Real Mens Journal Part 11

Real Men’s Journal Part 11

SUBJECT 56 PERSONAL JOURNAL

~DAY ???~

COACH came back today. He’s not MY COACH anymore, but he is still a COACH. He put us through the ringer. Mile run, pull-ups, weights, you name it. Course, we crushed it. Me n’ the bros. My BIG MUSCLE bros. Just kept calling me bro so much, I let it go. Too much work tryin’ to tell em my name, ya know? We’re all in this together anyways, so we’re all bros.

Coach brought some newbie. Said we’d be put against him for our tests. Wut wuz the guy’s name again? Brook? Wookie? Uh … Rookie? Yeah, Rookie. Think that was it. Wish he’d just get a number. Numbers are easier to remember. 100. 56. 13. You know. Numbers. Numbers are better to remember. So uh … does that mean they’re better than names? Maybe? I guess. Hard to think. So hard to think. It hurts. I just wanna BLANK OUT. LET GO. Forget about that stupid test.

What test? You know, the one with the numbers and all the hard questions on science and shit. It was so fucking stupid. I told COACH so when I turned it in. He just laughed! I wanna punch him in the face so bad. The jackass. I just wanna hit and keep on hitting and bashing and tackling and wresting and … and … fight. It’s good to fight. The more I fight, the clearer my head. Don’t have to think. Just let it all go. And … I feel good when I do it. Like I’m GROWing. Getting SWOLE. Have to go. Time to fight. Then we lift weights. The others said something about a special surprise. Said I’d enjoy it. Doubt I will more than my bulge. Or my muscles. Just can’t help but FLEX and grin a STUPID grin every time. It comes so easy. Just FLEX and grin and BULGE and SWELL. Can’t hold back much longer. Gotta fight. Wrestle. WIN!

DOCTOR’S BRO LOG

~April 20th~

BIG FUCKIN’ ROOKIE (You know it)

‘Sup, bros? So yeah, I took that test COACH told me to take. He had me sit in front of some screen first, just sorta look at it while it flashed in my face. Said it’d help me fit in more if I uhhh … rewrote my language synapses? I … think that’s wut he said. Hell if I know. I just LISTEN like a good JOCK, like a good ROOKIE should. A ROOKIE LISTENs to his COACH and let’s face it, that’s what I am to COACH. I’m his ROOKIE and he’s my COACH. I like it that way. Makes things simpler. DUMBs things down. DUMB. Yeah …

Uh … wut wus I saying again? Been spellin kinda funny lately too. But COACH says I have to act the part. Just like the rest of them. So uh … yeah, I been doin’ that. You know, spying and all that. Collecting STATS. Making GAINS. Getting SWOLE. Every once in a while, COACH has me watching that screen. Every few days. Keeps me FOCUSed. FOCUS on the screen. FOCUS on MUSCLE. I’m watchin’ it now, actually. So easy to just BLANK OUT and LISTEN as I FOCUS. FOCUS on GROWing. FOCUS on the screen. FOCUS on words. FOCUS on SPIRAL. Flashing. Swirling. Down. Down. Down.

Yes, sir. Write what I say. Write what I see. Repeat.

I LISTEN.

I OBEY.

Love my MUSCLES. Yes, sir. MUSCLES are good. MUSCLES are great. MUSCLES mean everything.

Everything GROWS. BIGGER MUSCLES means BIGGER BULGE.

Yes, sir. I love my BULGE. Love my MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Want to make it BIGGER.

Everything GROWs. I FOCUS on GROWing. Everything goes into my body.

Put my brain into my body. Yes, sir. Brains go to MUSCLE. Brains go to BULGE. Brain turn to BRAWN.

I OBEY.

I forget.

I OBEY.

I LIFT.

I OBEY.

I train.

I OBEY.

LISTEN.

OBEY.

JOCK.

OBEY.

CONFORM.

OBEY.

Don’t think.

OBEY.

Don’t question.

OBEY.

I don’t think. I OBEY. I don’t question. I OBEY.

OBEY my COACH.

ROOKIE obeys COACH.

COACH says FOCUS on sports. COACH says LOVE sports. I OBEY COACH.

I love sports.

Yes, JOCKs love sports. I love sports.

JOCKs love MUSCLE. I love MUSCLE.

JOCKs love bulge. I love my bulge. My MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE.

JOCKs OBEY COACH. I OBEY COACH.

JOCKs LIFT weights. I LIFT weights.

JOCKs get SWOLE. I get SWOLE.

Yes … JOCK. Becoming a JOCK.

More like a JOCK.

JOCKs work out. I work out.

Work out. JOCK out.

COACH trains JOCKs.

COACH trains me.

COACH trains me …

COACH turns me.

BIG COACH. Makes BIG JOCK.

COACH turn me. COACH make me.

COACH makes me BIG JOCK.

COACH turns me into JOCK.

COACH trains me into JOCK.

BIG ROOKIE wants to be a JOCK.

BIG DUMB JOCK as DUMB as rocks.

WEIGHTS and MUSCLE fill my head.

I’m BIG FUCKIN’ ROOKIE. Old doc is dead.

BIG shot doc to BIG FUCKIN’ JOCK.

BIG ROOKIE will report.

BIG ROOKIE will practice.

BIG ROOKIE OBEYs.

Just like the others.

Just like a JOCK.

Will remember nothing when I wake.

Yes, sir, COACH.

BIG ROOKIE OBEYs.

…

Lights out. Time to sleep. COACH says. I’ll tell ya about the test later. Night, BROs.

 ~June 24th~

‘Sup, BROs? Been a few days. Hard to write when there’s so much PUMP to get on, ya know? Been hangin’ out with my new BROs. We do everything together. LIFT together. PUMP together. TRAIN together. TRAIN with COACH. They don’t talk much. Hard to get em to start. But I’m getting’ used to it. Better at it. They like to flex a lot. Talk about their MUSCLEs. Admire their BULGE. Hell, I get in line with them, start to pose, I lose track of time. Watching my PUMP. My ABS. My fucking HUGE six-pack. My SWOLE biceps. … My BULGE. My MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Straining my JOCK strap. GROWing BIGGER. Feels so fucking good. Uh … wut wus I talking about again? I forget. But … I don’t mind. Huh.

Bin growin’ like a fuckin badass last few weeks. Feels so good. I feel … younger. So fucking heavy though. I could totally take anyone. Been thinkin’ bout wrestling. Guys do it all the time. 56 is champion right now. Think I’m SWOLE? Bros, he’s a FUCKING GIANT! Every time I’m near him I just sort of … BLANK OUT. I come to, we’re lifting. He’s spotting, and I’m rock hard. I smile. I don’t know why. He just looks dazed. His BULGE GROWs. My BULGE GROWs. And we both just smile. I’m still smiling. My BULGE is still growing. So much pl … pl … uh … can’t think of the word. Just … feels good. Real gud. Fuzzy up top. Getting fuzzier. But … I like it.

I wus gonna tell ya somethin’. Uh … lemme think a bit. Hard to think. SO hard. So fucking hard. So horny. All the time. Gives me an edge when I work out. I love working out. Love to GROW and SWELL my MUSCLES with my MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Built like a FUCKING tank.

Built to FIGHT.

Built to LIFT.

Built to GROW.

Built to OBEY.

Yes, sir, COACH.

I’m your MAN, COACH.

Your young MAN.

Your boy.

Spy boy.

JOCK boy.

Your JOCK boy.

Time to LIFT.

I LIFT for COACH.

I GROW for COACH.

I OBEY COACH.

 ~June 30th~

Took a retest for COACH. Said the results were lost. I was pissed, but COACH said I had to to avoid suspicion. Test was so fucking BORING! I just stared at the page and I couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t stop thinking about the GYM. About that PUMP surging through me. So much. Made it hard. Hard to think. Do I … even want to anymore? I don’t know. … Don’t know anything.

I wus gonna tell ya about that test, right? The first 1? I did pretty gud on it. Guys were jealous. Got out of the test early. I fucking crushed it AND the fitness exam. Wus a little harder first time, but retest wuz E Z. Exercises were nothing. COACH says I did gud. Makes me happy. COACH just laughed. The others. Guess I know how they feel now. BROS belong in a GYM, not a class. Desks are too fucking small. Felt too close. No room to stretch. No room to FLEX. How do those nerds stand it? How did I stand it? I don’t burn fucking bunsons, I burn calories. Gotta get SWOLE with my MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Each time I say that. Each time I write it. My head feels fuzzier. And I want 2 wurk out.

Spelling’s not 2 gud anymoar, but that’s O.K. BROs don’t mind. Don’t have a mind. I’m a BRO too. So … I don’t have a mind? Let me … th … th … fuck, head’s all fuzzy. Gotta … can’t … LIFT. Gotta LIFT. So DUMB. Can’t do nuthin’ else. Won’t do nuthin’ else. Just LISTEN to COACH. LIFT for COACH. OBEY COACH. Cause I’m a good JOCK boy.

SUBJECT 56 PERSONAL JOURNAL

~DAY ???~

I am the fucking KING! Aint no one can touch me. They try, I WRESTLE them til they SUBMIT. Every time I win I feel BIGGER. BUFFER. SWOLE.

My BROs respect me. Call me Q.B. Even get to help Lil’ BROs adjust. Plug em into their ear buds n’ listen with ‘em. They don’t mind so much after the first time.

I’m so fucking HUGE. Love my muscles. My bulge. Just posing in front of the mirror. Workin’ with the new guys. This one guy, Rookie, he’s pretty legit. COACH said he’s been trainin’ on fast track. Dunno Y, but I can’t stop trainin’ with the guy. Build him up. Make him SWOLE. BIG n’ DUMB. Just like me. I didn’t like it at first, ‘specially when I failed COACH’s test. Then I got used to it. Just sorta went numb up there. Numb n’ DUMB. Hey, that’s catchy. COACH says my I.Q. is down. I say screw I.Q. Who the hell needs it?

I want 28. I want Kevin. I miss him. COACH sez I’ll see him again soon if I TRAIN real hard. Sez he’s WEIGHTing for me. WEIGHTing at the final phase, whatever the fuck that is. COACH sez we’re nearly there. Me’n the team. Got some more shit 2 watch’n listen 2. COACH sez we graduate after phase 3. Then we gotta choose sumpthin’. Final play, I guess. Days have bin hard 2 keep track of. We moved to underground. Don’t see the sun much. Don’t really wanna anymore. I’m actually pretty happy here. Things’re smooth, like my reps. Get up, shower, LISTEN to COACH. Scan. Eat. Wurk out. Zone out. JOCK out. Showur agen. Scan. Eat. Wurk out. Listen to COACH. Eat. Showur. Scan. GROW. Sleep. Repeat.

Balls itch so much. More I scratch em’ the bigger they feel. That fucking weight between my fucking legs, like a bull, BRO. A HUGE fucking bull, ready to charge. Smash. Beat. FUCK! Head’s so dizzy. Can hardly rite. Barely reed. But … that don’t matter much, does it? I’m fucking HUGE. I do wut I want. But uh … wut do I want? I … I don’t know anymore. Don’t know. Don’t know anything. Just … weights. Clacking. Clanking. Wrestling. Grappling. Fight. Burn. GROW. GROWin’s gud. GROWin BIG. BIG balls. BIG dick. BIG bulge. BIG MUSCLES. BIG me. BIGgur is DUMBur. And I’m fucking MASSIVE! A MASSIVE, MANLY MAN with a MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Can’t wait for fase 3. COACH tells me I want it. COACH sez I need it. Need to be a BIG DUMB JOCK. Need to OBEY. Want to OBEY. Want to be a BIG DUMB JOCK for COACH.

Huhuhuh. Funny word, DUMB. Makes my mouth feel all teengly. Sounds funee 2. DUMB. DUMB. So fucking DUMB. All I become, so fucking DUMB. Time to scan. Then I wurk owt.

 ~DAY ???~

‘Sup. Over seven feet tall now. Weigh like … fucking four hundred’r sumpthin’. Owtgrew my clothes. COACH gave me nu 1s. Thair sooper tight. Cling to my bangin’ bod. COACH sez I luk gud. COACH sez I should lyk em. Ges I do. They make me feel gud. Tingly. COACH even put my name on it. 56. In fucking HUGE numburs, lyk me. COACH sez he was real happy wen I wrote it on his test. Dunno Y he made me take it agen, but he wuz happy so that’s all that maturs.

I look like 100 now. Like my BIG BRO. It made me smyl. COACH sez I’m gonna make it BIG in sports. I believe him. I just wanna LIFT n GROW n wrestle n tackle. Feels so gud wen I do. Like a real man. A real JOCK. COACH sez I’m so gud, he wants me to help the noobs. So I bin doin’ that. Bringin’ shakes n’ helpin them lift. You know, make ‘em my lil BROS. Make em TUFF. Make em BUFF. Get em SWOLE. Bring out their iner JOCK. COACH sez I gotta make em all like me. Some try 2 fite. I just put em’ in a sleeper hold, TACKLE em’ to their bed, then plug in their headphones. They try 2 pull em out, so I hold their teenee toothpick arms 2gethur. Lil’BROs struggle for a bit, then they just sorta go limp. The rest of the lil’BROs join me n’we chant with em. Takes a time or 2, but the lil’BROs come round. They start 2 listen to their COACH. The rest happens cuz they see they want it 2. Lil’BROs get SWOLE, like me. GROW that MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Don’t need ta think with the JOCK in control. Just LIFT. GROW. Get fucking SWOLE.

Time 2 LIFT.

 ~DAY ???~

COACH sez I’m a fucking natural. All my BROs look up to me. I lead em in everything. In the showers. LIFTin’ weights. OBEYing COACH. Just followin’ orders, ya know? Don’t need nuthin’ else.

COACH sez time for football. Can’t fucking wait to SMASH those fucking pansies to dust. The nerds call me Supreme Ky. I told em the name’s gay, asked em to call me Super Ky instead. They got into it after a few uh … persuasions from me n’ my fist. Give em a few throws n’ they fall in line real quick. I love knocking the nerd outta them. They call me Q.B. Then they bulk up. Then they’re with us in faze 2 with our MASSIVE, MANLY BULGE. Learning to OBEY the playbook. And LISTEN to COACH. Have to go. COACH is calling. COACH sez report now. Sure thing, COACH. I OBEY. I’m your JOCK. I’m your Q.B. 56 reporting for duty. 56 is part of the TEAM. 56 is yours. Let’s play some fucking ball.

 ~DAY ???~

NUMBER 56 reporting.

56 is redee.

56 is MASSIVE.

56 is 1 with the TEAM.

56 is all for COACH.

56 lives for COACH.

56 OBEYs his COACH.

56 is COACH’s boy.

56 is COACH’s JOCK.

MASSIVE, BURLY, BIG DUMB JOCK.

56 is just a JOCK.

56 is BRAWNY JOCK.

56 is just a JOCK.

56 is perfect JOCK.

56 is COACH’s JOCK.

…

…

…

56 is redee for faze 3.

Are you open to requests? I have a bunch of ideas for inanimate tfs if you want some inspiration. Featureless mannequins, action figures, crash test dummy, training dummy, green army man, robots, figurines, statues, trophy, art...

I’m open to suggestions. That being said, I’m facing certain emotional difficulties right now, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to necessarily do huge quality writing at the moment or not. I’d have to take it a step at a time. I do have previous stories that I’ve written that I’ll be posting on my tumblr here for people to read, so don’t worry, there will still be content. I just need some time, before I’ll be able to run full speed again, if that makes sense.

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.

…

Real Men’s Journal: Part 6

~DAY ???~

           I … I don’t know what happened. I just sort of blacked out. And my last journal response … What the hell? Have they been hypnotizing me in my sleep or something? The quarters are full again, but … I don’t recognize anyone. My head is killing me. And I feel … heavier. My damn tablet won’t show me the date. Thanks again, Dick and Tracy, you dimwits. I wonder where Kevin is and how he’s doing. And Chris. He’s the one responsible for me being in this mess in the first place.

           Just got scanned. Damn, I lost that much weight already? And … wow, I’m taller too. But that’d mean I’ve been here for months. I’d have to have been. I mean, if I came back out of that stupor or whatever it was, then the chemical or whatever it is they’re using can’t have worked on me the same way it did the others, right? Crap, who cares? I just need to find a way out of here. And I need to um … take care of some business. I’ll uh … be right back.

           …

           Man that felt good. Nice shower. Real nice. … And stuff. I’m kinda worried. My junk looks a little bigger. Is it a natural effect from puberty? Or is it this process? And … where are all the newcomers? Place looks empty. Guess I’ll go look for em.

           … Damn, it’s a whole new class. I’m eating breakfast in the hall right now. There was a whole escort surrounding them. And I saw one wearing 100 on his back. Here’s the recording. Decided to try the video. You know, to mix things up a little. Recordings are a bit boring sometimes. You can see it when you want.

           ~ACCESSING # 56 VIDEO FILE 001~

           A large adult in his late twenties stares out with spiked raven-black hair. His uniform is a black spandex two-piece and strains against his bulging muscles with a 100 over the left pec. A bony, square jaw juts out as he scratches himself down below. His eyes are a cloddish brown with thick, lumpish eyebrows shadowing them. They’re practically simian. He seems to just stare off into space as he keeps a firm grip on a young boy with red hair and freckles. The boy is highly obese and his eyes are a bright green. He looks rather sad.

           “Chris? Chris, is that you?”

           The big man looks over with his thick muck eyes, a confused look on his face. He stretches his free large arm. As he does so, he flexes a bicep as big as a football. The camera pans down to reveal a heavy set of legs and a straining bulge that is clearly visible inside the jockstrap that must be beneath the material. The camera freezes there for a time before going down to the feet where a heavy set of cleats shows massive feet, digging into the earth and leaving imprints behind as the line moves forward. Then it pans back up to the man and his furrowed brow.

           “’Sup, bro? You uh … lookin’ for someone?”

           “Chris, it’s me, Kyle.” The camera rushes up and the lens is zoomed onto the left pec, showing nothing but the big zero at the end of the number and the black in its middle. The flesh is straining against the fabric, leaving a tight imprint.

           “Dude, seriously, too close for comfort. Back up, bro. I got a kid to watch.”

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

           “I look like I’m laughin, kid? Back up, seriously. I’m not … Groan … not Chris. Qu-quit screwin’ with me.”

           “Chris—WOAH!” The camera is suddenly shoved violently back as it shakes and the sound of hitting ground and scraping dirt is heard as the lens shakes at the sky. Then it’s readjusted to face the musclehead again, who’s heaving now.

           “I’m NOT Chris! I’m fuckin’ Heavy 100% muscle, got it, ya pussy? Go play with your toy. Let the real men do the work ‘round here. Fuckin’ lightweight. I’m a massive manly man with a massive manly bulge n’ that’s all I’ll ever be. Now buzz off!”

           “Is there a problem here, 100?” The camera turns to face an even larger man with a closely shaved blonde crewcut. His coach’s shirt hugs tightly to his chest and his dark blue eyes burn. “Well well, what have we here?” he sneered. “It’s you, is it? The troublemaker who messed with my 86? Hmmmm … not bad. Lost some weight, have we? Gotten a little muscle? It looks … nice.” He smirked.

           “I … Groan Th--thank you …”

           “No need to thank me. I’m just here to … chaperone.” He looked at the camera, then his face turned up towards a space ahead. It turned hungry as his eyes went up and down. “Hmmm … yes. Not too bad at all. Needs some … training though.”

           “Sir?” The big man holding the boy spoke up. “He makes my head hurt.”

           “Don’t worry, 100, just think about all those weights waiting for you once the escort is done. And that massive, manly bulge of yours you’re so fond of.”

           “Massive, manly bulge. My massive, manly bulge.” He chuckled and flexed an arm, shuddering in pleasure. The chant was soon taken up by the other men in the line.

           “Massive, manly bulge. Massive, manly bulge. We’ll grow and stretch and lift and swell with our massive, manly bulge…”

“Hey, q-quit it. That’s not … you’re not …” The screen begins to tremble as it turns to face 100. “S-stop it. This isn’t … my … feel funny.” The camera turns to a sneering coach.

“Here, boy, let me take that off your hands, hmm? You look like you’re about ready to drop it.” He chuckles as he reaches for it with his big, meaty hands. The lens is then turned to face a tall boy with a good average build. His loose shorts and shirt hang limply, but his arms look well-toned. His eyes are a light, cool blue as he clutches at his brown hair.

“Give that back. Give … give … M-meeee …. That … i-it’s my—my—mmmmmassive … so … massive.” He shudders and suddenly his eyes look more dense and a dimwitted smile comes across his face while he looks at the larger muscle-men with sheer adoration.

“That’s the spirit. What do you have to say to me now, eh, boy?”

“Wanna be a big boy. Wanna be a good boy. Big boys grow into big men.” He smiles.

“And big men have what?”

“Big muscles.”

“And what else?” The boy’s face widens to a grin. “A massive, manly bulge.” The camera pans down to his shorts where a small bump pushes.

“And good boys grow into big boys, don’t they?”

“Grow big. Grow massive. Massive, manly bulge. Massive, manly bulge. Wanna be a massive, manly man with a massive, manly bulge.” The bump grew slowly bigger.

“And what’s inside that bulge?”

“Huhuh-HU-h,” his voice cracked. “My … uh … my penis.”

“Your what?”

“You know … my privates. My massive, manly bulge.”

“Just call it what it is, son,” the voice sighed.

“Uhhh … I thought I did?” the bulge starts to shrink.

“Sigh, Just keep going, alright, boy? Follow the program. Listen to the recordings. I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, sir. Massive, manly bulge. Massive, manly bulge. Work out, be big, be buff, be swole, with my massive, manly bulge.” The bump grows again as he repeats the chant. When the men begin to stop, the boy follows with them and the bulge shrinks, but not as much.

“Take this, son. I’ll be seeing you later, mark my words.” The lens is covered by a palm and there is the sound of shifting air and the smack of the cover closing.

“Ugh … what happened?”

END TRANSMISSION

So uh … yeah. I guess that guy wasn’t Chris. He’d never have done something like shove me back or anything like that. I see him piling up his plate. Lots of eggs, sausage, and bacon. Guess you gotta have the protein to build that muscle. And when you’re their size, you must need a lot just to keep things the same. Found out the coach’s name was Stone. Guess that fits. He’s built like a freakin’ rock. Biggest mountain of muscle I’ve ever seen. The things I could do if I were built like that … but never mind. He’s kinda been eying me since I started breakfast and it’s really creeping me out. I’m not some slab of meathead … meathead … meathead. Gah! I can’t even write it properly!

But on the other hand, I have to admit, this food is still just as good, if not better. Everyone’s looking at me all funny, actually. The kids look scared and the meatheads, they look … eager. I’m a little scared of what’s going to happen. I blacked out again, and I feel horny as hell. It’s too soon. I shouldn’t, but I do. And I feel … Idunno, more snug down there, if you catch my drift. Whatever they’re doing to me must be accelerating. I have to find a way to fight back, to reverse this somehow. And … the others! I can warn them! I just … need to do … something else first …

 ~DAY ???~

The hell? I just woke up to my headphones plugged in my ears listening to some damn hypnosis file! Augh! What is wrong with me?! I feel like I want to punch something. And the way I am right now, I could probably leave a pretty good mark, too. I just hope I was able to warn those poor fellahs. Probably better check on them. It sounds like a few are in the showers. Maybe I’ll have a talk with them … after I take care of some pressing business. In the showers. In stall 56. In my stall. Yeah …

…

ACCESSING # 56 SESSION ASSESSMENT:

SUBJECT RESPONSE RATE:  65%

SUBJECT PROGRESS:  Minimal

SUBJECT RANK:  Beginner

REMOTE ACCESS REQUEST RECEIVED:  INPUT PASSCODE

*******_*****_*****

PROCESSING REQUEST …

PASSCODE ACCEPTED:  WELCOME, USER STONE.

PLEASE ENTER COMMAND:  ___ ACCESS RECORDING

CONFIRMED:  PLEASE SELECT RECORDING TYPE

1.     SUBJECT 56 PERSONAL AUDIO MP.3

2.     SUBJECT 56 PERSONAL VIDEO

3.     SUBJECT 56 PROGRESS VIDEO

CONFIRMED:  LOADING SUBJECT 56 PROGRESS VIDEO LIST

SELECT VIDO

ACCESSING VIDEO FILE 5

           “You’re doing it wrong, kid.” A green hologram the size of a human stands to the right. It’s as large as Stone was, but this one has slightly longer hair. “Tuck those arms in. That’s it. You’re not a chicken, so don’t flap.”

           “Yes, coach.” The brown haired youth from before is working at a press designed to work the pectorals and the inner arm muscles. He’s a sweaty mess, but looks eager enough as he works to press again. The camera zooms in on the weight and reads it at one hundred pounds before zooming out.

“Good. Now that’s proper form. Keep that up and try to make a set of ten, alright, Kyle?” The boy does so slowly and the hologram smiles “Excellent. Keep that up and you’ll be ready to progress in no time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You want to progress.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You love the burn as you work out.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then keep going.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when you’re finished here, get back to your recordings. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Yes, sir, coach.”

100 walks up and hands a protein shake to the boy after he finishes his set.

“Drink. It’ll make ya swole like me.” 100 sneered as the boy finished his set and began to down the shake.

“Gotta get swole,” Kyle murmured between sips.

“Good boy,” the hologram said. “Just keep focusing on building those muscles, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You only care about your muscles.”

“Yes, sir.”

           “Bigger Muscles. Bigger bulge. Bigger you. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

           “Bigger is better,” 100 boomed.

           “Buffer is tougher,” Kyle droned.

           “Good boy. Grow that massive, manly bulge,” the hologram said. Kyle shuddered, smiled, dropped his empty plastic shake cup on the ground and immediately went back to work.

           INSTRUCTION:  END RECORDING:  ACCCESS ADMINISTRATIVE SETTINGS:  HYPNOSIS

           END TRANSMISSION

           ACCESSING ADMINISTRATIVE SETTINGS:

           HYPNOSIS:

           SELECT PREFERENCE:

1.     HYPNOTIC SUGGESTIONS                  ON

2.     SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING                 ON

3.     POSTHYPNOTIC TRIGGERS                ON

4.     POSTHYPNOTIC SUGGESTIONS        OFF—ON

5.     BINAURAL BEATS                                OFF—ON

6.     MEATHEAD CONVERTER                   OFF—ON

7.     SCANNER AMPLIFICATION                OFF—ON

8.     DUMB JOCK.MP3                                  OFF—ON

9.     SPORTS CRAZE.MP3                             OFF—ON

10.  MUSCLE CRAVE.MP3                           OFF—ON

11.  GYM OBSESSED.MP3                           OFF—ON

12.  BODYBUILDER.MP3                             OFF—ON

13.  JOCK WALK.MP3                                   OFF—ON

14.  JOCK TALK.MP3                                    OFF—ON

15.  LANGUAGE.MP3                                    OFF—ON

16.  CRUDE DUDE.MP3                                OFF—ON

17.  BROAN OVA BRAYNES.MP3              OFF—ON

18.  DIMWIT.MP3                                          OFF—ON

19.  SCREW SCHOOL.MP3                           OFF—ON

20.  MANLYBULGE.MP3                              ON

21.  BIG COCK=DUMB JOCK.MP3             OFF—ON

22.  NARCISSUS.MP3                                    OFF—ON

23.  UNITY.MP3                                             OFF—ON

24.  ARROGANCE.MP3                                 OFF—ON

25.  BLOWHARD.MP3                                   OFF—ON

26.  BULKY BULLY.MP3                              OFF—ON

27.  RESPECT&OBEY.MP3                          OFF—ON

28.  TEAM PLAYER.MP3                              OFF—ON

29.  ONE OF US.MP3                                     OFF—ON

30.  NEVER GOING BACK.MP3                  OFF—ON

 LINK SCANNER TO CONVERTER?

 YES/NO

           SAVE CHANGES AND AUTHORIZATIONS?

                       YES/NO

           SAVING … SAVING … SAVING … CHANGES SAVED. REINITIALIZING.

           SYSTEM RESTART. ADMINISTRATOR LOG OUT.

           REBOOTING SYSTEM.

~DAY ???~

Damnit, I had to start a new entry. Guess I took too long at the showers. On the plus side, I think the others know now. So that’s the good news. And that shower was so good, too. I really needed to relieve myself in there. You know, stress and all that. Man, it just helped me to RELAX so much. I should shower more often. Anyways, it’s lights out time now, so I’ll write again later. Night.

 ~DAY???~

           Woke up this morning for the first time in ages without a headache. It’s so great! The newbies seem to be going through some of the symptoms I was facing, but overall, they’re adjusting alright. Went and said hi to the guys from the showers. I uh … couldn’t really remember their names, but they didn’t seem to mind. They said they were picked up at a gym their fathers went to.

Based on what they told me, their dads must’ve been through The Process already. Most of them had high-end jobs until about a year ago. They left on a supposed retreat and when they came back, they were ripped and muscle-driven. Ever since then, they sort of let their old jobs slide and started working out at the gym instead. To make ends meet, they became personal trainers. They certainly had no lack of customers after showing off just how swole-errr, big, they’d gotten. The kids and their mothers were more than a little concerned for the men with such a drastic change, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. As a father-son activity, their dads brought them to their recreational gym to work out together. For a bunch of muscleheads, they were surprisingly logical about the whole thing. To avoid any issues of work getting in the way, each had chosen a gym they didn’t work at to get a membership with:  one of those newer chains that’ve been popping up lately. Muscle Hustle? Muscle Fever? Muscle Lift? Muscle … muscle … ah to hell with it, I can’t remember and I really don’t care all that much. A gym’s a gym. You work out, get sweaty, bulk up, and get swole through mindless activity where you just BLANK OUT, then WORK OUT, then JOCK OUT. The rest was history. The boys blacked out when they were getting into their gym clothes and they woke up here with me. They were kinda scared of me after some stuff that happened at the cafeteria and the gym. They didn’t want to talk about it much, but I got past that eventually. Their names are Josh, Cooper, and Trent. Nice guys, actually.

They’re planning on going places with jobs like their dads used to have. Computer programming, Business Management, Typists, you know, stuff like that. You know, for supposed nerds, these guys actually aren’t that bad off. They’re fairly average in build and it looks like they’re pretty fit already. I wonder why they were taken in the first place. Most other targets were picked for being flabby, lazy, and addicted to junk food. This batch looks more … diverse. Aaaaand there’s the headache again. Great, just great. Guess it was too much to hope for just one FUCKING DAY where I don’t have to deal with this FUCKING MIGRAINE! Screw this! I’m goin’ to bed.

 ~DAY ???~

           ACCESSING # 56 VIDEO FILE 002

           Weights are clanking in the background as Kyle focuses on leg lifts using a weight machine. His arms are crossed over his chest and he continues to push, breathing heavily and grunting regularly.

           “Hey. So, uh, I guess you’re wondering why I’m recording and working out. Turns out when I lift, my headache does too. See what I did there?” He laughs. “But seriously, it’s actually not all that bad. I’m not so sore anymore, and I have more energy now that I ever did before. It’s weird. I expected to collapse by now from an asthma attack, but it’s not coming. I wonder if that chemical changed my lungs. If it did, I guess that’s one thing to be grateful for. Remind me to ask Coach Stone later. Turns out he’s taken over my case after all. Either he overlooked that assignment function, or he deliberately wants me to know. I guess I’m what’s considered a stubborn case, and that’s what Stone deals with on a regular basis.

           “So yeah … the week’s been going pretty good. My body’s metabolism is through the roof and I’m eating as much as a food disposal. Seriously, I feel like my stomach’s never going to get enough at this rate.” He pauses to wipe a towel over his forehead and face as a loud gurgling emanates from his stomach. A big muscle man with a large 100 blazoned on the back of his shirt and another smaller one on his left pec smiles as he approaches, entering the camera’s range.

           “’Sup, little man?” he chuckled.

           “Hey 100, sorry about the mixup before. You just really made me think of my old friend, Chris, ya know? Well … a bigger, swoler version of him anyways.”

           “S’cool, lil’bro, don’t worry about it.” The big man looks impressed as he views the weight count. “150 already? Damn, bro. Took me two fuckin’ weeks ta get there.” He hands Kyle a plastic cup filled with a brown protein shake.

           Kyle shrugs. “Guess I just never knew my strengths is all. Couldn’t really do working out before. Every time I’d start, I couldn’t breathe.”

           “You’re shitting me.”

           Kyle takes a long draught from the cup, emptying it about half way in one go. “Nah, man, it’s true. I’m an asthmatic.”

           “A what?”

           “I have asthma. It’s a disease you’re born with, makes it so you have smaller air passageways in your lungs and they swell when you work out or run. Sometimes they block up even when you’re doing nothing. It sucks.” He takes another swig.

           “But you’re okay now?”

           “Yeah, I guess. Don’t know why though. It’s like I never had it. I’d be ecstatic if I didn’t know you people are trying to brainwash me.”

           100 flinched.

           “Don’t worry, I’m not holding it against you, big guy. It’s the coaches I’m mad at.”

           100 smiled, then frowned. “But Coach is just tryin’ ta help.”

           “By keeping me prisoner?”

           “By trainin’ ya. You know, with the holograms n’ shit. Help ya get swole.”

           “Look, 100, I’m glad to be getting more fit, I really am. But the fact that I was kidnapped from my home, my family, my friends, isn’t exactly going to disappear anytime soon. And no amount of working out, bulking up, getting swole, or getting a—” He broke off as if remembering something as his eyes widened. He cleared his throat. “--Getting more junk in the trunk, will change how I feel about that. I want to go home. I’ve wanted that ever since I got here. My parents are probably worried sick right now.” He sighed, deflating as he slumped on the bench of the machine. “And thanks to those dickwadds, Tracey and Dick, I can’t even tell how much time has gone by since I was taken.” He took another sip from the shake before swirling it around in his hand as he watched the viscous substance turn into a sludgy whirlpool.

           “They’ll let ya go back, ya know,” 100 said. “They give ya a choice when you graduate. Hell, you can even come back n’ work part time. Be a mentor, ya know?”

           “We don’t even know where the hell we are!” Kyle threw his cup on the ground, sending shake all over the floor. 100 sighed as he moved to pick it up.

           “Don’t need to know, lil’bro. Ya just gotta grow. Listen, I’ll leave ya to yourself for a while, okay?” He placed a giant hand on Kyle’s shoulder, then walked off. Kyle just put his head in his hands and sobbed.

           “It’s happening, isn’t it? They’re really getting to me.” Then he broke down completely.

           END TRANSMISSION

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!

Real Men’s Journal Part 12

Here it is, folks, the final chapter in our great meathead odyssey. It’s been quite the ride, and I’m glad to have shared this piece with you, grammatically flawed though it is (I was too lazy to go back and edit, after I’d learned how. :P). So, I hope you all enjoyed the characters. And don’t worry. Coach Stone will be back soon enough, with a new bevy of obedient meatheads at his beck and call. You’re not gonna want to miss it. ;)

MASSIVE MANLY BRO LOG

BIG FUCKING ROOKIE

~July 15th~

Bin workin’ hard every day. Wurkin’ for COACH. He put me with 56. Super Ky. He’s the fucking best partner a guy culd ask for when he LIFTS his WEIGHTS. COACH asks ‘bout 56 all the time in the showurs. I LISTEN to him there. Sit back. Report. OBEY. COACH sez higher-ups want me 2 stay. Keep watching 56. Keep working with him. Watch him GROW. GROWING’s gud. GROWING BIG. GROWING BRAWN. GROWING BUFF. GROWING BULGE. GROWING SWOLE. GROW 2 fit his DUMB JOCK role. They say I can leave after. I’m … not sure I want 2.

I luk at 56 and I feel … jelus. He’s so BIG. BIGgur than me. And I can’t stop listening 2 him. Evry1 calls him Q.B., so I do, 2. Cuz, U no. Spy. But … it feels gud when I say it. Lyk when I say I LISTEN to COACH. Makes me feel kinda fuzzee up top. Makes me smyl. The guys LISTEN to him lyk COACH. Lyk we’re a TEAM. Gess the brainwash WURKs. Not on me tho. I’m a spy. I act lyk the rest cuz I have 2. 2 blend. Fit in, ya no? Talk lyk them. Rite lyk them. LIFT lyk them. Act lyk them. Just like COACH sed. Then I report. Report in the showurs. I don’t remember much, but I don’t worry cuz COACH sez not to. Cuz I’m his ROOKIE. He’s my COACH. And ROOKIEs LISTEN to COACH. ROOKIEs OBEY COACH. I OBEY COACH.

I OBEY.

 ~July 30th~

DUDE! 56 is so fucking ripped! He just shredded his fucking clothes today, man! COACH had to give him new stuff. Sumpthin’ like a … suit of some kind? All black. Two piece. Shorts and top. Looked fam--uh … lyk I seen it B4, ya no? But … can’t think where. Can’t think. Head … 2 fuzzee. I … why? Supposed 2 B spy. But … don’t feel like 1. Feel lyk 1 of the guys. Wut wuz I saying again? So hard 2 think. Gear’s 2 tite. So fucking horny. Can’t concentr8. Feel so hevy. My BULGE … it’s GROWing. I … must record … sounds. COACH sez. … Rite wut I say … GROAN … COACH … wut’s happening 2 me?

Abrams … COACH Abrams … he … he wuz wearing … wut 56 is wearing. They … used 2 be … difrent. More smart. … I used 2 be more smarter 2. GROAN so fucking horny. Can’t think. But … have 2. Sumthin’ about … hypnosis. A … program? Some kinda … trigurr? Oh god it hurts to think. Hurts my dick. My huge … fucking dick. So huge … so DUMB … I … no. Have 2 focus. Sumpthin’ 2 do with my JOCK strap. My … BULGING … straining … BIG DUMB JOCK strap. For BIG DUMB JOCKs. JOCKs lyk 56. JOCKs lyk 28. JOCKs lyk me. Redy 2 snap. … snap. Snap? I … think (god that hurt to rite) has 2 do with snap. Sumpthin’ bout … uh … bout … no turnin’ back. Lyk uh … That’s it! Snap the strap n’ subjects furget! Makes em focus more. Snap the JOCK, unlock the JOCK. Become more JOCK. … Reinforce training. … Uh-oh … Shit, someone must’ve falsi … fals … fal … FUCKING FAKED MY RESULTS! But … who? Why? I wuz a gud JOCK … gud JOCK … SHIT! Didn’t mean 2 rite that.

Gud … gud … so fucking gud. BULGING. GROWING. STRAINING. I feel it. So close. Gonna BUST my fucking JOCK. Be a DUM JOCK. Gud DUM JOCK 4 COACH. Cuz that’s wut I am. All I am. BIG 4 COACH. FLEX 4 COACH. DUM 4 COACH. JOCK 4 COACH. Gud JOCK.

NO!

Can’t break my fucking JOCK if I take it off. Gotta hurry. Can’t let it …

…

…

…

REMOTE ACCESS INITIATED

SYSTEM OVERRIDE AUTHORIZATION CODE ACCEPTED

SYSTEM COMMAND: ACTIVATE RECORDING SYSTEMS

ACTIVATING RECORDING SYSTEMS

“Coach, wut’re you GROAN doin’ here? I … I gotta do something. Please. Go away.”

“I’m sorry, Rookie. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Coach. Please.” The voice catches.

“Just relax, Rookie. I’m right here. Calm down. We’ll work through this together, just like we always have.”

“No, coach, we can’t. I can’t let what happened to Abrams happen to me. I won’t. I can … can still … think. GROAN.”

Easy, Rookie. Let’s not be hasty here.”

“Coach, I’m almost out of time. I have to do this. If I don’t, I’ll … I’ll ...”

“Turn into a muscle head? Grow into a jock? Didn’t you want those things?”

“You knew? You knew what was happening to me?”

“Of course I know. You wanted it to happen. You told me so in our meetings. Don’t you remember?”

“M—meetings …”

“Yes. Our sessions. It was all you could talk about. Growing, getting bigger muscles, your bigger ‘equipment,’ all of it. And you sure as hell loved your new sex life.”

“I’d never … I … I wouldn’t …”

“You would. You did. Hell, you spent half a workout bragging about your conquests. I have your paperwork right here. You signed on to become a part of this program. You wanted this.”

“That’s a lie!”

“That’s the honest to god truth, Rookie. Look at you. Look how you’ve changed. The Process regenerated you. Rejuvenated you. You’re young. And thanks to your latent desires, you’ve unlocked your hidden genetic potential. You’re a perfect physical specimen. A teenager who has yet to hit his peak. Just like you wanted. If you don’t believe me, then read the papers yourself. I have them right here.”

“Why … can’t I remember?”

“Plausible deniability.”

“… What?”

“You volunteered for a new form of the process, a different formula. But you wanted to keep working, too, helping 56 progress. We agreed so long as you could remain professional. But the organization needed to be able to deny any charges you might make while you forgot. And it needed to be able to observe each stage as if you didn’t know about it. So we wiped your memory and left the subconscious commands intact. … I see you still don’t get it. Damn, that stuff works good. Basically, it was so we could say we didn’t do anything bad to you and had no idea what was happening.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because it acts as a distraction.”

“Distract—oh crap! Let go of me!”

“Sorry, Rookie, I can’t do that. Not until you’ve finished this phase.”

“Coach, stop!”

“Just let it happen, Rookie. Stop struggling. I know how badly you want this. How much you need this!”

“I need to stop this! I never wanted this! Let go! I don’t wanna be like them! You’re lying, you have to be!”

“Listen to me, Rookie! We know that’s not what you really want. What you need. You need muscle, power, strength. You need to be a jock. Cocky. Powerful. A man. A real man. A massive man with a massive bulge. Can’t you feel that? Feel it straining. Growing. Swelling. Just like your body. You reek testosterone. Why? Because you’re a jock!”

“St—stop it!”

“A huge jock.”

“Coach …”

“A massive, brawny, meathead obsessed with weights.”

“No…”

“You might as well let it happen, Rookie. It’s too late to turn back. You’re my Rookie and I’m your Coach, remember? And a Rookie always listens to his coach.”

“…”

“So listen to me now.”

“… Coach …”

“Just relax and listen to my voice, Rookie. Let it go.”

“Coach …”

“Let it go.”

“… Let it … go …”

“Relax.”

“Y-yes … sir.”

“Good boy.”

“…”

“Can you hear me, Rookie?”

“… Yes.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“… Coach.”

“Do you know who you are?”

A breathy sigh is heard. “Rookie.”

“That’s right. You’re my Rookie.”

“Your Rookie.”

“And Rookies listen to their coach, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir. Rookie is listening.”

“Good boy. Everything I say is truth. Understand, Rookie?”

“Yes.”

“You will accept everything I say without question.”

“Yes, sir, Coach.”

“And you’ll obey everything I tell you to do, right?”

“Yes, sir. Rookie listens to Coach. Rookie obeys Coach.”

“Good boy. I’m going to get off of you now. I want you to stand up slowly and not run or do anything else. You’re just going to stand there and listen.”

“… Yes, sir.” There is the sound of shifting bodies and the heavy tromp of cleats on cement.

“That’s a good boy. Now, Rookie, tell me, do you like your muscles? Do you like how much you’ve grown?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You like how easy it is to lift?”

“Yes.”

“And you like watching those muscles grow in the mirror.”

“Yes.”

“You think about weights a lot, don’t you?”

“… Yes.”

“What do you think about most?”

“… Lifting. Getting swole. Muscles. Chicks. My dick. Fuck, It’s so massive. So tight. So … bulgy. Like me. Growing. So big. Fucking huge.”

“*Whistle* That thing is growing pretty fast, isn’t it?”

“*Grunt*”

“Now listen to me, Rookie. You want it to grow. You want to keep growing. Just like your training said.”

“… Yes, sir, Coach.”

“You love your size. You love your body. You love what you’ve become.”

“Love my size … love my body … love what I’ve become.”

“Good boy. Tell me, what is the square root of 81?”

“Uh … Give me a sec.”

“Take your time.”

“I … I know this. I … know … this … *Groan* … god, I can’t think!”

“Relax, Rookie. It’s not a problem.”

“It’s … not?”

“That was a test. You passed. You weren’t supposed to know.”

“I … wasn’t?”

“You don’t care about math, remember? The only time you use it is when you’re focusing on your stats.”

“… Yes. That’s right … I … I don’t care about math. Don’t care …”

“Math is stupid. You said so yourself.”

“Course it’s stupid. Math’s for nerds.”

“That’s right, Rookie. And you’re not much of a nerd anymore now, are you?”

“Fuck no … I mean … maybe a little.”

“*Chuckling* Don’t worry, that won’t last long. All you want is to keep growing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Growing boy. Growing body. Growing bulge. Growing brawn.”

“Yessssss …”

“Remember what happens the bigger you get?”

“Dumber I get.”

“That’s right. And you want to be big, so …?”

“I wanna be dumb.”

“That’s right. You want to be dumb. You were tired of being smart.”

“Tired of bein’ smart.”

“No room for smarts anymore. All that brain’s being filled with pure muscle. Pure brawn.”

“All muscle. All brawn.”

“That’s right. All those smarts are going to your manhood. Everything. Make you a massive, manly man with a massive, manly bulge.”

“*Groan* Massive, manly man … Massive … manly … bulge …” There is the sound of straining fabric.

“That’s right. You love this feeling. You love being big. And you want more. You always want more.”

“*Grunt* More massive … *Groan* More manly … *Grunt* More bulge.”

“Just like 56.”

“Just like 56.”

“Just like 28.”

“… Just like 28.”

“Just like Abrams.”

“… Just … like … Abrams.”

“Just like a jock.”

“… Just like a jock.”

“Because that’s what you’re becoming: a big, dumb jock. My big dumb jock. And you want that.”

“… Becoming a jock. A big, dumb jock. Want to be a big, dumb jock. … Your big dumb jock, sir.”

“That’s right. Good jock boy.”

“*Groan* Rookie is your jock boy, sir.” A sudden echoing snap breaks across the recording, followed by a deep, dull laughter. “Wanna be a big, dumb jock. Rookie will be Coach’s big, dumb jock. Getting’ buff n’ getting’ swole. I’m big fucking Rookie!” The sound of shredding fabric is heard.

“Big Rookie is right.” The coach’s voice echoes as he laughs. “At this rate, you’ll be ready for phase three in no time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s get you dressed, Rookie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Spandex, I think. Something tight to show off your body. Is that alright with you?”

“Fuck yeah. Who wouldn’t wanna see this jock bod?”

“Good jock.”

“Yes, sir, coach. Rookie listens. Rookie obeys.”

END TRANSMISSION

 ~August 30th~

Been LIFTING like a fucking BEAST, like COACH told me 2.

I see COACH in the showurs. Evury day.

COACH sez I’m speshul.

COACH sez see him 3 tymes a day.

ROOKIES LISTEN 2 COACH.

ROOKIES OBEY COACH.

So I OBEY.

COACH gives me special proteen. Sez it’ll make me SWOLE. I lyk SWOLE. WURKS OUT. I’m Fucking HUGE. BIGGur than 56.

BROS don’t talk much eneemore. Don’t need 2. We LISTEN. We OBEY. We LIFT. We GROW. We SWOLE.

Sum talk, but we GROW ther BULGE. Make them MASSIVE lyk us. They fall in lyn. They JOCK out lyk us. Don’t talk much after that. It’s bettur that way. Easyer 2 LISTEN 2 COACH. Easy 2 OBEY.

56 left. Coach sez he went 2 faze 3.

I’m in charj now.

New clothes feel so fucking gud. Wear em all the time.

Shows off all my MUSCLE.

I am MUSCLE.

MUSCLES do what they’re told.

MUSCLES OBEY commands.

I OBEY.

MUSCLES don’t think.

I don’t think.

MUSCLES GROW wen they WURK OUT.

I GROW wen I WURK OUT.

ROOKIE is MUSCLE.

MUSCLE is ROOKIE.

COACH gave ROOKIE a new name.

ROOKIE is Number O-000.

ROOKIE is Zero becuz ROOKIE is nothing.

Nothing but a JOCK.

A BIG, DUMB JOCK.

ROOKIE is a BIG, DUMB JOCK.

ROOKIE is COACH’s BIG, DUMB JOCK.

ROOKIE OBEYS COACH.

ROOKIE GROWS wen he OBEYS.

GROWS BIG. GROWS DUMB.

ROOKIE is STRONG wen he OBEYS.

ROOKIE OBEYS wen he is STRONG.

ROOKIE OBEYS.

Zero OBEYS.

I OBEY.

OBEY.

OBEY.

…

 ~September 5th~

Yes, sir, COACH.

ROOKIE is 0

0 OBEYS COACH.

0 does not think.

0 is DUMB.

0 has 0 brains.

0 is DUMB.

0 OBEYS.

0 is MUSCLE.

0 FLEXES.

0 OBEYS.

0 LIFTS.

0 OBEYS.

0 is SWOLE.

0 OBEYS.

0 is BIG.

0 OBEYS.

0 is JOCK.

0 is COACH’s JOCK.

0 is a BIG, DUMB JOCK.

0 OBEYS.

0 GROWS.

0 is MASSIVE MANLY MAN with MASSIVE MANLY BULGE.

0 is just like the TEAM.

0 is 1 with TEAM.

Yes, COACH. 0 will go.

0 OBEYS.

0 will go to faze 3.

0 is redee for faze 3.

ACCESSING SUBJECT 56 FILES

~DAY???~

LIFTING gud.

Thinking bad.

56 wants to LIFT.

COACH sez 56 shuld rite tho.

56 OBEYS.

56 LIFTS with the TEAM.

56 rites with the TEAM.

56 chants with TEAM.

56 is 1 with TEAM.

28 WEIGHTed for 56.

28 and 56 were happee.

TEAM wuz happee.

Now 56 is just lyk 28.

56 and 28 R BROS.

Fucking HUGE.

GROW for COACH.

OBEY COACH.

LIFT.

DUMB.

LIFT.

BIG.

LIFT.

JOCK.

56 doesn’t need recordings.

56 heres COACH all the tym.

56 is part of TEAM.

56 OBEYS with TEAM.

56 doesn’t think.

COACH thinks 4 56.

COACH thinks 4 TEAM.

Yes, sir, COACH. 56 heres.

56 OBEYS.

I am 56.

56 is drone.

56 will GROW TEAM.

JOCK now. JOCK 4ever.

MASSIVE MANLY BULGE.

56 will chant with TEAM.

TEAM is home.

Home is TEAM.

56 is home.

Lyk … wut’s the play, COACH?

SUBJECT O-000

~September 30th~

0 is part of TEAM.

0 WURKS OUT 4 COACH.

0 GROWS 4 COACH.

0 is COACH’S JOCK.

0 is BIG DUMB JOCK with MASSIVE MANLY BULGE.

0 knows his place.

0 is OFFENSE.

0 FIGHTS.

0 makes BROS.

0 OBEYS.

0 will make JOCK BROS.

0 will GROW the TEAM.

0 will be COACH’s point guard.

0 will be assistant COACH.

0 OBEYS.

END TRANSMISSION

RESEARCH NOTES: OMEGA PROJECT FORMULA

C.E.O. SIGN IN: VICTOR STONE

The program has been hitting some snags of late. Those with a high enough I.Q. have been able to resist The Process to the point where some have been able to hold on for several months to their original psyches. This was unacceptable. So, of course, I had to fix it.

Number 56, formerly known as Kyle Matthews was the last straw. Abrams had been failing for too long. He was too sympathetic, too gentle. I fixed that. Now he’s the most aggressive offensive lineman you’ll ever meet. As for 56, well, I simply pushed him in the right direction. Even with my skills though, the boy was still surprisingly resilient. It took me too long to break him for comfort. I immediately authorized initialization for The Omega Project.

This new and improved formula for The Process is specially designed for the higher I.Q. It drops the test subject down to a basic grunt. I called in Doctor Seroyan for testing and gave him his own office. Little did he realize the special ingredients I included in his food and drink. He didn’t take long to show signs of change. Within the month, he was already beginning to crack. The subliminals from the lights helped of course, but a lot of it had to come from the treatment itself. Notes from my other workers revealed similar results in isolated test subjects throughout the compounds.

I got him hooked on working out and the rest was history. I kept conditioning him alongside 56 so they could interact when the time came. I wanted to see if I could incorporate him into the system without him knowing. After all, that’s the whole point of the Omega Formula. That, and of course, it breeds a stronger, more obedient jock drone. Best of all, it’s completely undetectable. Seroyan became my subject zero. And he’s perfectly happy fitting his new role as my personal assistant. I’ve given him free reign over 56’s team while I’m away and designated a new coach to keep tabs on him while I’m gone. I’ve given specific orders not to interfere, though. Omega Zero has potential to be a great coach once I’ve taught him how. Until then, I’m having him run over exercises with the team as they practice and play their programmed sport. More than a few of them are going to enter the N.F.L., that’s for sure. I love seeing my boys making me money.

We’ve come such a long way from when my project first began. I’m so glad I blew up my lab all those years ago. Hell, the results were definitely worth it. I still haven’t been able to fully replicate the accident that made me this way, but that doesn’t matter much. I like being the alpha. And once I got our investors to try my … unique product, they were happy to fall in line. They signed over ownership to me, obviously, and pursued their own careers in their respective muscular fields. I still get a monthly check from them after they’ve won a big competition or something along those lines.

Next phase will be accelerating the process. I want to have nigh instant results. When I’m not working as a personal coach for my jock force, I get back to the lab to work with the boys on progression. Now that we’ve found a compound that breaks past the I.Q. barrier, it’s only a matter of time. Soon enough, I’ll be everybody’s coach in a perfectly healthy, masculine muscleman society. I can’t wait.