Of Spies And Muscleheads Part 2

Of Spies and Muscleheads Part 2

Hunter could hear Subject Thirteen laughing, chuckling deeply. Such a low, empty voice. It guided him in the darkness. Hunter opened his eyes, and then, there Thirteen was. Hunter wasn’t in the pipe anymore. The castle was gone. Now he stood in Thirteen’s cell. The mammoth of a man was busy lifting iron, clanking weights up and down on the bench that had been provided beneath a single spotlight. He just smiled as he lifted, pumping for all he was worth and grunting all the while. He finished his set and sat up, staring with those vacant, murky brown eyes.

“A Meathead’s a meathead, head full of meat. Meathead must grow. Meathead competes. Meathead obeys. Meathead don’t think.” He chuckled again. “Meathead’s a meathead, bro. I know meatheads. I know you.” He laughed.

“You don’t know me,” Hunter growled.

“Know a meathead when I see one.” He laughed again. “Just gotta remember.”

“There’s nothing to remember, Thirteen. This is a dream, a hallucination, nothing more.”

Subject Thirteen shrugged. “If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up.” He flexed a bicep. “I don’t think you want to, either.” He smirked.

“I have a mission to accomplish.” Hunter reached for his watch controls, only to find himself bereft. He was naked, save for a pair of black compression shorts that hugged tightly to his frame. He tried reaching where his watch would be, and pressed the location of the emergency button to stimulate electronic shock. It didn’t work. There must have been a sedative in the water. He had to be dreaming. There’s no way a rescue team would have been sent to recover his body. If anything, he would have been captured, and placed in a holding cell. Either way, if he was stuck in this dreamscape, better to play along. At least for now. “What did you do with my things?”

“What things, Lil’bro?”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not your ‘bro.’ I’m not like you. I’m going to kill your boss.”

“Boss? Uh … didn’t know I had one.” Thirteen scratched his head with a meaty hand, the veins on his arms pulsing as the muscles twitched, accenting every curve, every bend, all the way down his arm to the thick slab of meat that was his pec. “Got a coach, but dunno why you’d wanna kill him. Meatheads love coach. Meatheads obey coach. Coach makes us big. Coach makes us swole.” He smiled, stood, and punctuated each sentence with a new pose. Then he stood up straight again, his frame towering over Hunter. “’Sides, you sound like Meathead already, bro.” He chuckled. “Just need the bod to match.”

“That’s my voice changer. This isn’t my real voice.”

“You sure?” He laughed again. “Don’t see none on ya.”

“This is a hallucination, nothing more. I’m going to wake myself up, and you’ll be back in your cell, while I’m working on killing your CRUNCHES.” Hunter coughed and cleared his throat. “What the hell?” His voice … it … cracked. That didn’t sound like Thirteen, but it didn’t sound like him either. And why did he say that word, instead of coach? Never mind. Try again. “Like I said, I’m going to CURL FOR COACH.”

Thirteen’s smirk turned into a sneer. “Sorry, what’d ya say?”

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it,” Hunter demanded, pointing a finger at the muscle man as Thirteen proceeded to pull out a dumbbell and perform some curls.

“Me? I ain’t doin’ nothin’. I told ya. I know meatheads when I see ‘em. You just covered it up, blacked it out. That ain’t right. You took my voice. My voice woke yours.” He pointed down at the compression shorts. “Now all that black’s comin’ out. N’so’s the real you.” He grunted as he began another set. Hunter’s compression shorts had begun to turn white around the knees.

“This isn’t happening. It’s not real.” Hunter shuddered where he stood as little veins began to push out of his legs. “Need to WORK OUT. No! Get out, not WORK OUT.” Hunter’s hands clutched at his throat, only they didn’t feel right. Looking down, he watched them tremble and shake as the little veins popped up there, too. Soon they cracked, swelling a quarter their previous size. Big hands. Strong hands. Like Thirteen. They clenched open and shut against his will. The veins continued to spread up his forearms, and they grew more defined, expanding as the muscle tensed, relaxed, and grew. All the while, the black on his shorts’ legs continued to pull up and away, revealing the blank white beneath.

“Gotta lift, bro.” Thirteen chuckled as he put down his own dumbbell, went to a nearby weight rack, returned, and proffered a new set of hundred pound dumbbells.

“Somebody help ME GET SWOLE!” Hunter gasped as his chest and shoulders expanded, the trapezius muscles bulging and thickening, causing the muscles and sinew in his neck to swell as well. Down below, he could feel something stirring as a tingling sensation took hold in his legs and crotch.

“See, bro? You’ll fit right in.”

“This is my house, MEATHEAD, not yours.”

Meathead boomed with laughter. “Bro, course it’s not yours. It’s coach’s. Come on. Lift with me, bro.” He extended his arms, offering the weights yet again.

“I’m not your BRO. Get that through your MEATHEAD. Damnit! How do I BULK UP?”

“S’easy, bro. You know how it’s done. Curl. One. Curl. Two. Muscles grow. Bring out the real you.”

“No. Stop! What’re you doing?” Much to his horror, Hunter watched as his arms took hold of the dumbbells, and began to follow the rhythm of Meathead’s chanting. His body shifted, so his legs were shoulder-width apart as he worked to curl. A fit of dizziness overwhelmed him as he watched a new spotlight flicker on over a gigantic reflective mirror. The two-way. But why was it floor length? Another spotlight shone on him, and he watched as the black began to bleed slowly away from his waistband as well. The tingling in his crotch grew more intense. “Can anyone hear me? Control, get me out of here. Control! Anyone! BRO ME! SHIT! Somebody HELP ME GET SWOLE! Wait, that’s PERFECT. MEATHEAD, WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?”

“What’s–”

“–UP, BRO?”

Meathead just laughed. “Bro, welcome home.” The room was suddenly flooded with lights as exercise machine after exercise machine appeared, each with an almost identical man working on them. As big as Thirteen, as focused as Thirteen, as vapid as Thirteen. They were all consumed with their workouts, earbuds plugged, screens flickering, watching rigidly, working to a synchronized rhythm. No wonder the clanking was so loud before. It wasn’t just Meathead working at a set of weights, it was a legion of meatheads perfectly synchronized. Smaller men twitched under helmets as IVs pumped something into their blood, and they grew, feet bursting from socks, torsos tearing shirts. One of the helmets raised to reveal yet another hulk, an almost exact duplicate of Thirteen. Hunter watched as another smaller person with glazed brown eyes was shoved into an empty chair. His long, shaggy black hair hung to his shoulders in a style reminiscent of some Japanese haircuts. A series of flashing buttons and lights flickered across multiple panels as he was strapped in. He looked so familiar. As the huge dome descended, the letters CONTROLLER.EXE stood out in bold red print. He watched the man twitch and shudder as his clothes began to tear. Then it hit. Jason. That man was Jason. With that sudden realization, Hunter’s head jerked violently back to Thirteen and the mirror against his will.

“GOOD TO BE BACK. No! I’m not leaving HERE. Damnit! I’m not BIG ENOUGH, BRO. Gotta GET SWOLE.” Hunter stared, horrified as his face grew more square, his jaw jutted out, and his hair shifted into a perfect flat top, identical with MEATHEAD. Wait, no, Thirteen. MEATHEAD. No, … MEATHEAD, but that’s not … HIS NAME IS MEATHEAD, BRO. Hunter watched as his biceps blew up like balloons, while the room seemed to spin around him. The black on his compression shorts continued to dissipate, slowly being drawn from the back and sides to the front as it flowed towards his crotch. The more it did, the more he felt his privates press slowly outwards as his body expanded. “BIGGER BALLS, BIGGER DICK. MEATHEADS DON’T THINK ‘CAUSE OUR HEADS’RE TOO THICK.” Those words … they came out of his mouth! But he didn’t want to. What the hell?

“S’right, bro. You’re a meathead now. Just like me.” Thirteen chuckled with his low, empty voice, and pointed at Hunter. A familiar voice came out over the loud speakers in the PA system.

“Larger penis, larger testicles.”

Thirteen grinned as he struck a pose, and stared. As one, the room resounded. “BIGGER BALLS, BIGGER DICK.”

“BIGGER BALLS, BIGGER DICK,” Hunter’s new voice said with them. “No! I’m H–UGE MEATHEAD.” Hunter’s brow furrowed and pressed further out as his eyebrows grew bushier, and his body hair thickened.

“C’mon, meathead. Let’s pump that other guy outt’a your head.”

“COOL, BRO.”

“No, not cool. Not cool at all. And … wait, why can’t I talk?”

“CAUSE I’M A MEATHEAD, BRO, NOT HUNTER.”

“S’right, meathead. C’mon. Machine’s waitin’,” MEATHEAD said.

“You’re not getting away with this.”

“AWAY WITH WHAT? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DON’T BELONG.”

“This is my FUCKING body!”

“YUP. MY FUCKING BODY. SWOLE IS GOOD. JUST GO WITH IT, BRO. DON’T FIGHT. WE’RE THE SAME.”

“How are you doing this?”

“BRO. I AIN’T DOIN’ NUTHIN’. S’ALL YOU. I’M A MEATHEAD. YOU’RE A MEATHEAD. WE’RE ALL MEATHEADS.”

“We’re all Meatheads,” Meathead repeated. Soon the whole gym was saying it, echoing, repeating, beating it into Hunter’s head with every clank of the weights as they returned to their starting positions. A wave of pleasure washed over Hunter’s body. The black from his compression shorts had been reduced to a concentrated circle over his manhood spanning from one end of his waist to the other. He watched said manhood bulge further as the black circle shrunk. He saw and felt his still-expanding body flex one more time in front of an identical mirror to the one from before in time to the rhythm of the sets.

“We’re all meatheads.”

Clank.

“Big, dumb meatheads.”

Flex.

“Growing our meat.”

Clank.

“We follow the beat.”

Pose.

“The deeper we go,”

Clank.

“The bigger we grow.”

Flex.

“The more we obey,”

Clank.

“Grow dumber each day.”

Pose.

“Obey Coach’s voice.”

Clank.

“Don’t have any choice.”

Flex.

They dropped their weights as one, having finished their set, and stared ahead at their screens as they flashed and flickered. “Obey coach. I obey. We obey. Meatheads obey. We are meatheads. We obey. I am a meathead. I obey. I am a big, dumb meathead.”

Thirteen flexed, his eyes vacant as he posed next to Hunter, and stared into the mirror. Hunter followed his actions perfectly. “I AM A BIG, DUMB MEATHEAD,” the pair said together.

“Time to work out, bro,” Thirteen said, motioning to an empty weight machine. “Cycle starts again soon.”

Hunter felt his body shudder, then it patted his junk, shuddered again, this time in pleasure, and sat down where Thirteen had offered. Against his will, his arms reached out to grab a pair of earbuds from their position next to the monitor.

“GOTTA GET SWOLE, BRO.”

“I AIN’T going down without a FIGHT,” Hunter thought rebelliously, frustrated that the warbling had even followed him into the one free space he had left, his thoughts.

“BRO, I ALREADY TOLD YOU. YOU’RE ME, AND I’M YOU. YOU JUST LOCKED ME UP, BRO. NOT COOL. BUT I FORGIVE YOU.” Hunter heard the new voice laugh with his body. He wanted to scream. He couldn’t even grind his teeth as the buds were inserted into his ears.

“I am not a FUCKING PUSSY. I’m a special MEATHEAD chosen to infiltrate and CONVERT TO MUSCLE. No!” The voice continued to interfere. His body prepped itself. On the edges of his vision he could just make out the others staring blankly at their screens, breathing heavily as they tensed their arms. He could hear static filtering in through his buds, and assumed the others were hearing the same. Then came the music. His head began to bob. His eyes locked on the screen against his will. His arms reached up, and began to pull down on the cross bar, working his trapezius muscles as he pulled against the weight. A series of 1s and 0s cascaded across the screen for a time, mixed with the occasional flash of words and images too fast to keep track of. Hunter’s body breathed in time to the pump. In. Out. Up. Down. One. Zero. Zero.

One.

Breathe. Lift.

Two.

Feeling good.

And he was feeling good.

Three.

Falling. Listen.

Hunter could feel his mouth pulling up into a smile.

“BRO,” he heard his body sigh, “LIKE, WHY’RE YOU RESISTING? LIFTING MAKES US FEEL SO GOOD. DON’T YOU REMEMBER?”

“I remember TRAINING so I can kill. I don’t LIFT just for fun, BRO. Damnit!” Hunter swore in his mind. That … invasive voice was still interfering. He had to figure out a way to break its hold, take control of this dream.

Four.

Inhaling. Slowing down. Relaxing. Lifting is relaxing.

Hunter could feel his body slumping as he watched the screen. He could feel Th–MEATHEAD behind him. Why couldn’t he call him his subject number anymore? What … was his subject number again?

Five.

Breathing out. A hand on his shoulder. “Just have to remember, Lil’bro,” MEATHEAD said. Remember. Remember what?

“Stop FUCKING messing around with me!” Hunter screamed in his head. But … his mind … sounded strange. Felt … wrong. His body’s smile turned to a smirk.

“THAT’S IT, BRO. FEEL THAT ANGER. FEEL THAT RAGE. FEEL THE BURN! FEEL THE PUMP! FUCKING PRIMAL!”

Primal. So good. Roaring. Pushing past goals. Getting fit for service. Was that what he was supposed to remember? That feeling? That rush?

Six.

Listen. Watch the screen. Obey.

Not like he had much choice.

You have no choice but to obey.

No choice. Listen. No choice. Watch the screen. No choice. Obey. No choice. No … choice …

“Wha–? What’s happening TO ME, BRO?” Bro? But … he didn’t … think like that. … Did he?

“No choice but to listen, Lil’bro. No choice but to obey. Listen to us, Lil’bro. Talk like us. Think like us. It’s easier,” MEATHEAD said.

Listen to Meathead. Talk like Meathead. Obey Meathead. You are a meathead.

Lil’bro. Easier. Listen. No choice. Obey. Obey …

“But … but I don’t … WANT TO LIFT. WANT TO LIFT. Don’t …”

Seven.

Obey. Think like Meathead. Just like Meathead. Think like a meathead. Because you are a meathead.

Meathead loves to lift. Hunter loves to lift. Feels so good to lift.

Lifting is life.

Lifting is life. His life was always lifting when he wasn’t on a mission. Yeah.

Growing is gold.

Growing is gold. He loved to see himself grow in the mirror. Getting closer to his goal. Toning up for the next phase in training.

Training means listening. Training means obeying. Listen. Obey. No choice. Bigger Balls. Bigger Dick. Massive Meat. Smaller brain.

Massive meat. Bulging balls. Big brute. He could feel them. Heavy. Bulging. Swelling manhood. Tight. Close. Pleasure. Grinning. He’s … grinning. So hard to … think … head feels … funny.

Remember. Obey. Remember to obey. Think like a meathead, because you are a meathead. Meatheads are dumb. You are dumb. Dumb. Muscle. All muscle. All weights. No thought but working out and getting bigger. Bigger and more obedient. Remember. Remember to obey. Obey.

Yes. Remember. Remember this feeling. Remember pleasure. Obey and REMEMBER. REMEMBER to OBEY. OBEY. Think of meat. Meat is on the brain. Brain is in the head. Meat is in the head. Thinking of meat. Think like them. Think like a MEATHEAD, MEATHEAD.

“Watch, Lil’bro. Lift. Listen. Remember. Remember,” MEATHEAD said.

“REMEMBER.” Wait … did he just talk? Did he? Does it … matter?

“You’re a big fucking meathead, Lil’bro.”

“YEAH, WE’RE A BIG FUCKING MEATHEAD, BRO.” Lips moving. Not him again. But … maybe it is?

“Don’t … wanna be … want … wanna … WANNA be … WANNA BE … DON’T …”

“DON’T STOP,” his lips say, changing his sentence. Changing his thought. His mouth says. Not him. Or is it? Don’t stop. OBEY. No choice. OBEY.

Don’t resist. Listen to Meathead. Obey Meathead. Be like Meathead. Talk like Meathead. Think like Meathead. You want to be just like Meathead. You want to be a meathead. You are a meathead. Just a big, dumb meathead. So dumb. Brain clouding as you listen, becoming dumber. More obedient. Bigger muscles. Smaller brain. All meat. All meathead.

Listen to Meathead. Obey Meathead. Be like Meathead. Talk like Meathead. Think like Meathead. Just like Meathead. Want to … want to … “WANNA BE A BIG FUCKING MEATHEAD.” Sighing. His sigh. His words. He … said it. But … did he? Wasn’t that … the other him? Does he want it? Hunter didn’t know any more. Everything felt so strange. So bulky.

Pump.

Bulky is good.

Clank.

Bulky is good. But … is it? Watch. Listen. Watch. OBEY. Massive meat. Smaller brain. Smaller … uh … what is …? Hard to … to think. So hard … so … hard … hard … meat … big …

…

…

“M-My name … my name is … is …” Resist. Fight. Have to remember. Don’t let them take that.

EIGHT.

“Hunter … I … I am Hunter. I am … Hun … Uh … I am … I am …” Hard to think. Can’t remember. So damn foggy.

Strain. It’s heavier. More difficult.

Don’t remember. Forget your name, meathead. Fall into place. Listen. Obey.

Clank.

Don’t remember. Do not. No choice. OBEY. MEATHEAD. Must think like MEATHEAD.

You are horny. You are heavy.

“I … I AM H-HORNY … HEAVY … YES.”

Feels so good to pull down that weight now that he’s listening. Arms are heavier. Weight’s not so bad anymore.

Big balls. Big meat.

Clank. Release. Follow the rhythm. So easy to fall in with the others. Fall in and obey. Don’t think. Just move. Just lift. Just obey.

“BIG BALLS … Big … MEAT.” Did … did he really just say that? Sounds like …

Meat.

Meat … Meat … Mea–NO! Have to be strong. Have to remember. Remember who he is. “I … I am Hun … Hun…”

Switching to crunches. Press.

Massive meat. Tiny brain. Don’t think. Obey. I think for you.

Clank.

Massive meat. Bulging balls. Huge. Tight. Pleasure. Remember pleasure. Remember and OBEY. “Hun … I am Hun …” Don’t remember. Forget name. What is his name? It’s … starting with that sound. Can’t … can’t think … can’t … remember …

Like a horse.

Crunch.

“Hun–” Sounds like– Massive meat. Huge. Growing.

Clank.

Like a horse.

Crunch.

“Hung–” Yes. Hung. That was it … wasn’t it? Tiny brain. Massive meat. Bulging. Feels good.

Clank.

Like a horse.

Crunch.

“I am–” Can’t think.

Clank.

Hung like a horse. You are hung like a horse. Say it.

Crunch.

Obey. Say it. Talk like Meathead. “I’M LIKE SO FUCKING HUNG, BRO! LIKE A FUCKING HORSE!” Smile. OBEY. Pleasure.

Clank.

Laugh.

Must obey. Laughing. He’s laughing. Everyone is laughing. Switching to leg lifts. Eyes on screen. Don’t think. OBEY.

Deep laugh. Dumb laugh. Empty laugh. Deeper. Dumber. The more you laugh, the less you think. Empty your mind.

Lift.

Listen. OBEY. Lift. Relax. Laugh. Empty. Grow. OBEY. Deeper. OBEY. Dumber. OBEY. Empty.

Clank.

“EMPTY …” He said it. Not the other. So slow. So deep. Like … like uh … something slow. Weird, usually has better quips than that with his tiny brain. So tiny … because of his massive meat. No time to worry about it. Don’t think. Don’t worry. Obey. Keep working.

Lift.

“THAT’S RIGHT, BRO. FEELS GOOD, DOESN’T IT?” Other him again. Maybe … maybe not so bad, though. Deep voice. Deep is good.

Clank.

Deeper. Deeper.

Lift.

“Good … What … What’m I …?”

Clank.

Deeper. Dumber. Don’t think.

Lift.

Deeper. Dumber. Don’t think. Can’t think. Listen. OBEY. Muscles. Grow. “YUH … GOOD.”

Clank.

Good and dumb.

Lift.

“Uh … Yeah. GOOD AND DUMB.” He grunts. In control again. Feels right. Pleasure. So relaxed. Up and down. In and out. So dumb. So hung. So much meat. Just like he says.

Clank.

Big and dumb.

Lift.

Yes. Big and dumb. Wait … what was …? Don’t think. OBEY. Hung. He is hung. So hung. Good and dumb. Big and dumb. He is hung.

Clank.

You are hungry.

Lift.

He is hungry.

Clank.

Hungry for muscles.

Lift.

“Hungry … I … want … MUSCLES, BRO. NEED MORE MUSCLES.”

Clank.

Good boy.

“Good boy.”

“GOOD BOY.”

The three sound almost simultaneous. Ringing in his ears. In his head. His empty head. Empty. Same words playing across the screen. Good boy. OBEY. Pleasure. MEATHEAD. OBEY. Dumb MEATHEAD. Dumb brute. REMEMBER. OBEY.

Lift.

Obey.

Clank.

OBEY. OBEY. Must … must … “I … I … I OBEY.” More pleasure. Stronger now. So strong. So good.

Lift.

“WE OBEY, BRO.” Other him again. But he’s like Meathead. Gotta listen to Meathead. So, uh, gotta listen to him, too. Obey. Empty. Don’t think.

Clank.

“Meatheads obey, Lil’bro,” MEATHEAD said.

MEATHEADS OBEY. OBEY. OBEY.

Set’s over. Stopping. Staring. Listen. Obey.

You are a meathead, a dumb brute with an empty head. You listen. You obey.

“O-BEY…” DUMB BRUTE. OBEY. EMPTY HEAD. YES. OBEY.

“You’re a meathead, Lil’bro. Just accept it,” MEATHEAD said.

NINE.

DUMB BRUTE. HUGE. HUNG. CARE ABOUT MEAT. MEATHEAD. MASSIVE MEAT. MUSCLE. DUMB. BRUTE. “I … I’M a …”

“SAY IT, BRO.” His lips again. Not him though. Other him. Or … is it? DON’T MATTER. LISTEN. OBEY.

“M–Mmmmm…” OBEY. OBEY. OBEY. “MMmmEAT …” Something … in his head. Must …

Be dumb. Don’t think. You are a dumb brute. OBEY. Convert to muscle. OBEY. You are meat. You are a mindless brute. OBEY.

Grinning. He’s … grinning again. Frown gone. Yes … feels … so good. To–

Listen. Speak. OBEY. Say what you are.

“I’M A … A …”

OBEY.

“TOTAL MEATHEAD, BRO.” Pleasure. So much pleasure. Rebounding. Rocketing.

OBEY.

Yes. So good to just –

OBEY. Lift. OBEY. Drain everything. OBEY. Serve. OBEY. Lift. OBEY. Repeat.

“MEATHEAD. TOTAL MEATHEAD. OBEDIENT. I OBEY. YES. GOOD TO LIFT. GOOD TO OBEY. DUMB BRUTE. MORE I OBEY, MORE DUMB EVERY DAY. I OBEY. EMPTY HEAD. OBEY. I OBEY. I OBEY. I OBEY.”

“We obey,” MEATHEAD said.

“WE OBEY.” PLEASURE. LIFTING IS GOOD. PUMPING IS GOOD. SO GOOD. HEART PUMPING. GROWING BIGGER.

Yes. Say it. Own it. OBEY. MEATHEAD. MUSCLE. BRUTE. OBEY.

“BRO … I FEEL … LIKE SO FUCKING PUMPED! PRIMAL!”

REMEMBER. OBEY.

“TOLD YA, BRO. WE SWOLE.” Other him. He likes other him. He’s a meathead, too.

SWOLE. PUMP. MEATHEAD. OBEY.

His shorts. So tight now. Feel ready to burst. Good. So FUCKING GOOD. Good to flex. Show off.

Make more. Repeat.

“MAKE … MORE.”

“YEAH, BRO. MAKE MORE MEATHEADS. JUST LIKE US.” He’s laughing now. Feels good to laugh. Head is so clear. No. Not clear. Empty. More he laughs, emptier it gets. Yes. Because he OBEYs. The more he OBEYs, the dumber he gets.

Empty your head. OBEY. Laugh it all away. REMEMBER. OBEY.

“I OBEY. Huh huh huh.” The laugh is deep, not the same, sortof dull. Kinda like it. He’s … sitting. Staring now. No new sets. Body not moving anymore. Why? Uh …

Stare at the screen. Watch. Listen. Obey.

STARE. WATCH. LISTEN. OBEY. HE OBEYS. HE IS A MINDLESS MEATHEAD. WATCHING. SEES A BLACK DOT. IT’S … BENT. CURVED AROUND SOMETHING.

Focus on the dot.

“FOCUS ON DOT … I OBEY.”

You obey, sir.

“I OBEY, SIR.”

Obey my voice.

           “YES, SIR. I AM A MEATHEAD. I AM A DUMB BRUTE. I OBEY.”

Remember my voice. Remember to obey.

“YES, SIR. WILL REMEMBER. WILL OBEY.” LEANING INTO SCREEN. SO HEAVY. GOOD TO BE HEAVY. HEAVY IS MUSCLE. MUSCLE IS GOOD. MEAT IS GOOD. BIGGER MEAT. SMALLER BRAIN. SHORTS SO TIGHT. DOT IS SHRINKING. CURVE … GETTING BIGGER. WHAT … WHAT IS IT? SOMETHING FAMILIAR … CAN’T REMEMBER.

Your old mind is the dot. Watch it shrink. Make it shrink. Focus. The smaller the dot, the smaller your mind, the more the muscle.

“SMALLER DOT, SMALLER MIND. YES, SIR. I OBEY.”

And?

“SMALLER DOT, MORE MUSCLES, SIR.”

Muscle is meat. Bigger muscles, bigger meat.

“YES, SIR.” HE SHUDDERS. HE FEELS IT. BODY SO FULL. BIG. GETTING BIGGER. DOT IS SHRINKING. NO BIGGER THAN A QUARTER NOW. HE SEES … MORE OUTLINE. WHITE FABRIC. CLINGING. WATCH THE BLACK. OBEY.

“I OBEY.”

“I OBEY.” OTHER HIM. HE OBEYS, TOO. FUNNY.

You are meatheads.

“YES, SIR.”

“YES, SIR.” YEAH. HE’S A MEATHEAD, TOO. SAME. OBEDIENT. HE LIKES THAT.

You are brutes.

“YES, SIR.”

“YES, SIR.”

You are one.

“WE ARE ONE.” MEATHEAD. ONE. ONE VOICE. ONE MIND. HE IS OTHER HIM. OTHER HIM IS HE. HE IS A DUMB BRUTE. WATCH DOT. OBEY. SO TINY. ALMOST GONE. WATCH. OBEY. REMEMBER. OBEY. GROW. OBEY. MASSIVE MEAT. OBEY. MEAT … MEAT … HIS MEAT … THAT’S WHAT IT IS! SOMETHING ABOUT … Turning … into … MEATHEAD. HE … DIDN’T … want … WANT … WANT MUSCLES. YES. MUSCLES ARE MEAT. WANT MEAT.

No fear. You love being a meathead. Obey. Serve. Remember. Love it. Let go. Surrender.

“YES. I … OBEY.” HE CAN SPEAK. HE’S … BEEN SPEAKING, BRO. NO TIME TO CELEBRATE. HE IS A GOOD MEATHEAD. HE OBEYS. HE MUST LISTEN TO SIR. MUST OBEY SIR. LET GO FOR SIR. SURRENDER TO SIR.

TEN.

BLACK SPOT GONE. HUNTER GONE. WHO IS HUNTER? DON’T QUESTION. DON’T THINK. EMPTY. BLANK. STARE. OBEY.

Can you hear me?

“YES, SIR.” SIGH. OBEY. LISTEN. GOOD.

You are mine.

“YES, SIR.” OBEY SIR. BELONG TO SIR.

You obey me.

“YES, SIR.” OBEY SIR.

You serve me.

“YES, SIR.” SERVE SIR.

Remember my voice.

“YES … SIR …” REMEMBER. OBEY. BELONG TO SIR.

I control you.

“YES. YOU CONTROL ME, SIR. I OBEY.”

I am your coach.

“YOU ARE MY COACH, SIR.”

You obey me.

“YES, SIR, COACH.”

What is your name?

NAME? DID HE … HAVE A NAME? He felt his massive shoulders shrug, his giant chest expand and contract. NOTHING. EMPTY. DUMB. DON’T THINK. “I DON’T KNOW, SIR.”

Good boy. You have no name.

COACH IS HAPPY. THAT MAKES HIM HAPPY. REPEAT. OBEY. “I HAVE NO NAME, SIR.” NO NAME. EMPTY. BRUTE. DUMB. NO NAME.

I will give you a name. You will remember it when you are called. Remember my control. Remember me. Remember who you are. Remember to obey your coach.

“YES, SIR …”

Your name is Brute.

“MY NAME IS BRUTE.”

You are Brute.

“I AM BRUTE.”

You are my Brute.

“I AM YOUR BRUTE.”

OBEY.

“I OBEY.” OBEY. OBEY. OBEY. BRUTE OBEYS COACH. BECAUSE BRUTE IS A MEATHEAD. A BIG, DUMB MEATHEAD.

When you are ordered to wake up, you will return to Brute. You will be only brute. You are brute.

“BRUTE WILL WAKE WHEN ORDERED. I AM BRUTE.”

You will wake when your controller tells you to remember.

“YES, SIR. BRUTE OBEYS.”

If I have need of you beforehand, I will call you. When you hear me call you by your new name, you will return to Brute. You will OBEY my orders and carry them out.

“YES, SIR.

Always OBEY.

“ALWAYS OBEY.”

Always SERVE.

“ALWAYS SERVE.”

REMEMBER. You are my Brute.

“I AM YOUR BRUTE, COACH.”

Watch the screen.

The screen flickered, then showed some weird video. Some twinky walking in with two MEATHEADS. He is thin. Nervous. NEEDS MUSCLE. NEEDS TO BE A MEATHEAD. MAKE MORE MEATHEADS. Twinky sits in a chair. IV gets stuck in his arm.

Remember, Brute.

The twinky is bulking up. He’s grinning. His eyes are alive. Then restraints slide out. He is held in the chair. A helmet lowers. He starts to struggle. He is scared. He screams. MEATHEADS just stare ahead. Helmet drops. It whirrs up. Helmet reads SLEEPER DRONE in big red letters. Screams stop. Body twitches. Body grows. Twinky isn’t a twinky anymore. Helmet lifts. Newbie is asleep. But … he’s not a MEATHEAD. Looks familiar.

Remember, Brute. Remember. Your trigger word is remember.

“… REMEMBER.”

It’s time to wake up.

“…WAKE … UP?”

Wake up … Wake up …

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 3

~Day 6~

Okay, what the heck just happened? I don’t remember anything after that scan. I walk around and the thugs just smile when they see me. And what’s with the other guys suddenly giving me pats on the back? Something weird’s going on here. I’m hearing more talk about football and baseball, stuff like that. It’s all half the guys ever talk about now. I suppose given this is a fitness related center they likely are restricting things that can be watched in the showers to sports. Still … I don’t know.

The camaraderie with the coaches is getting out of hand. They ordered a fitness test today to assess our progress. Abrams ordered twenty pushups, thirty crunches, and a half mile run. Naturally, I sat out. I know my limits. Some of the others though … they seemed a little too eager. Abrams would complement them, and they’d respond like we were in the army or something. “Thank you, sir!” Abrams would smile then and smack their butts or backs and they would just shudder and return it!

“Almost ready,” he said. I don’t know what he means by that, but I don’t want to find out. Kevin was one of the most zealous in the group, pushing his limits. At least that part hadn’t changed. I still decided to wait on the side, even as I watched. He grit his teeth, panting as he pressed on. The toned muscle paid off nicely. Abrams congratulated him, then touched something on Kevin’s pad as he entered a code. He did the same for a few others. They all just smiled as they got up, immediately accessing the new whatever it was Abrams unlocked. Kevin saw me and walked over. I looked away.

“… Uh … hey,” he said, sort of lamely.

“… Hey,” I said.

“You um … weren’t participating.”

“Asthma, remember?”

“Didn’t stop you yesterday,” he said. There was an awkward silence where we both weren’t willing to say anything. “Uh … guess I’ll see you later …” With that he left as he pulled out his tablet and plugged in a set of headphones. He hit play and walked off, joining with the few chosen ones as they gathered together. They don’t know how good they have it. It’s dinner time now. Stomach’s growling. I’ll just grab a bite to eat, scan, and go to bed. After all, I gotta update my stats. Even if I don’t want to. *sigh*.

 ~Day 14~

Hey, sorry I haven’t updated in a while. Not much to report except more of the same until now. The barracks are feeling empty today. Our special group of golden boys have officially gone off to who knows where. Abrams said it was the second tier in their training. With the looks on their faces, you’d have thought they won the lottery. Kevin looked a little worried towards me, but even then, he still smiled like a fool as he picked up his tablet with the others and filed out. He took one last look back at me, waved sort of timidly, and then the door sealed shut. I’m pretty much alone now.

I’ve been dealing with annoying offers to be workout buddies, and received endorsements for recordings. Seriously, you’d think these guys were traveling salesmen or something. I’m just glad I’m not the only one being targeted. When I refused, the men just shrugged and walked to the showers. I could hear the water running as the TVs blared.

They sure have been taking their sweet time. Water’s still running, TVs are still going, and that stupid smell is still wafting in the air. Seriously, either these guys need to invest in a better air filtration system, or they need to let us get some air fresheners. I made a joke out of it and got a few chuckles. Most of the others just sort of looked at me funny before turning back to their tablets. I’m bored, so I might as well do something to relax. Since I have no idea what could possibly be so attention grabbing for the other men, I might as well take a shower and see what all the fuss is about.

…

What the heck are they doing to us? Seriously, I’m scared here. I went in, snuck to my locker number and pulled out my shower supplies. I’ve decided to use the Old Spice Wolfthorn body wash since it’s the fruitiest. They have these Axe exfoliation pads we can use to get the stuff over our skin without wasting so much. As for hair, well, I’m more of a head and shoulders kind of guy, myself, but that’s beside the point. Sorry, that gas was making me light headed. At least I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of gas. It’s the only thing I can think of.

Anyways, like I was saying, I snuck into the showers because I didn’t want anyone teasing me or approaching me while I was in the nude. I walked past the curtains as the sound of the speakers blared through. They were all watching a football game and I felt like it was pounding into my skull as I walked past. All the men were just standing there in the mist and the water. Nobody scrubbed up, nobody lathered. They all just stood stark still, straight as boards. It was … eerily quiet when I think about it. I didn’t even hear any cheers when a touchdown was made. No groans of disappointment either. Just silence. Then came the creepy part.

“Yes, sir …” I heard. I wondered why they would’ve said that.

“Will study …” A second said as I walked past.

“Will grow …” came the third.

“Will become …” said a fourth.

I could hear the heavy slap of feet on the tile as one of the men who’d been sitting on their beds messing with their tablets walked in with dreamy-looking eyes. He didn’t even acknowledge me as he walked past and into a shower. He closed the curtain, took off his towel, and turned on the flow as he stared into the screen. His longer black hair dripped around him as the television flicked on to the same game the others were watching.

“The team is all,” he said as he stared, his legs splayed as the water cascaded over him. I watched as the others suddenly shuddered in their stalls, immediately mimicking the first man’s actions.

“The team works as one. We fight for the team. We act for the team. We live for the team. The team lives for coach. Bigger is better. Buffer is tougher.” I watched as they flexed in synch like a choreographed ballet. “Massive. Manly. Bulge. Massive. Manly. Bulge.” They repeated again and again and again. Louder, faster, flexing all the while as they shifted poses and positions. Then they yelled, groaned in pleasure, and stood there as the game broke for a commercial. A few minutes later they reached out, grasped their scrub pads and body wash and lathered up like nothing had happened. I heard cheers, whoops, hollers, and groans, and everything seemed to be normal again. At least until they were done.

When they stepped out, all of them had a good layer of stubble on their features. Their fat had receded from their necks and chins, leaving their faces more angular and square. They smirked at me, even as they swaggered off. One of them smiled blankly as he flexed a bicep.

“Mmm. Man it feels good to flex. This program ain’t half bad.” He smacked me on the butt, which led to me jumping in the air. He frowned momentarily. Then it cleared. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it, too. Enjoy the shower.” He walked off. Half way through, he removed his towel as he casually went to his locker. I immediately turned away as I got into a stall and turned on the water. As I said before, something is definitely up. There’s no way these kinds of results can happen so quickly. And the whole blank voice, unison thing? Seriously creepy. Next thing they’ll be wearing jockstraps and slinging slang like a bunch of meatheads. A bunch of big, dumb, meatheads.

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.

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 2

~Day 3~

Well, all I can say is I told them so. Just as I thought, this morning everyone woke up sore. Everyone who worked out anyways. On the plus side, that gave me the chance to get to the showers first. Easy in, easy out. I was ready to go before anyone else could get out of the showers. I heard a lot of sighs in those stalls. I’m not too big a fan of them myself. There’s a weird smell in there. Probably mildew or something like that. Maybe it’s B.O. Either way, I don’t like it. Though they do seem to have some type of video screen there for us to watch programs if we want. I could hear some of the static as they were flicked on. But enough of that.

So I performed “the routine” and brushed my teeth, combed my hair, ordered my drawer to open. Yet again I was met with a nice pair of shorts and a workout shirt. Augh. You can imagine my mood. I tromped my way out of the room after my “mandatory scan” and made my way for the mess hall. At least they have some decent food here. I grabbed a cinnamon roll and a glass of milk with a side of toast. Whole wheat of course. Have to keep my fiber up. Doctor’s orders.

Kevin greeted me cheerfully.

“Hey, Kyle. How’s it going?” I shrugged.

“Can’t complain. Looks like you’re not doing so well, though.” I saw how slowly he was moving his arms and legs as he ate. The kid was nice though; he bowed his head and said a prayer before he ate. You don’t see that much in today’s society.

“I’m doing alright.” He smiled at me. “The soreness is part of the change. I’ll get over it in a few days.”

“No bullies yet, right?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice. All I get is support. I even have a personal trainer on my journal to help me learn and grow.”

“Don’t you mean unlearn?” I asked, laughing. “By the time they’re done with you, you’ll be just like them.” I put on my best vacant expression and did a fake flex. “Like, gotta get swole, bro. Can’t focus on school no more. School’s for nerds!”

“Shut up!” He said, laughing as he shoved me. We both had a good laugh as we finished our breakfast and made our way to the gym. I decided to sit and watch Kevin this time as he worked out. Every once in a while his virtual trainer would chastise him for losing form, instructing him how to adjust until he got it right. Naturally, the holo-simulation showed Abrams’ lovely mug. About half way through the workout one of the thugs brought a protein shake in and handed it to Kevin.

“Thanks, 36,” he said.

“No problem, lil’bro. Just keep pumpin’ those weights,” the lug said, smiling vacantly as he flexed a bicep. “You’ll be as big as me one day.” He didn’t even bother looking at me as he walked past, his shoulder knocking me back. So much for that kindness. I rubbed my arm as I walked up to Kevin where he sat on the bench, his shirt drenched in sweat.

“Where’d you meet tall, dumb, and ruthless?”

“He’s not that bad, Kyle.”

“Maybe not to you. All these Neanderthals seem a little too eager to ignore and look down on me.”

“You’re just being paranoid. I’m sure once they get to know you it’ll be better. After all, we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t mind a guy like me. They do. You’re working out because you can. I can’t, even if I did want to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I get sick every time I try. I have asthma. If I don’t black out from exertion, I throw up on the floor because I get nauseated when I work out.”

“Oh.” Kevin took a swig of his chocolate swill and shuddered. “That does kind of make it tough, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. And all the popular kids singled me out because of it. I don’t have physical strength, so I made use of the gifts I did have and worked on the one muscle I knew wouldn’t be effected by exertion,” I said, pointing to my head. “Gossip and labeling took care of the rest. High School life. Ya gotta love it,” I said, sighing.

“That does it, then.” Kevin said, smacking his drink onto a nearby platform. “I’m going to get big and strong. And then once I do, I’m changing things at my high school. People like us deserve a chance to be treated equally. I’m going to make that happen.” With that, he slid his finger over the touch screen on his journal and stared intently at the holographic projection. “Okay, coach. Tell me what to do.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this kid’s determination. It’s one thing to say you’re going to change something, another to actually do it. Still, I wish him luck. The worst that could happen is he gets popular for being fit. I watched silently as he pushed through set after set, clacking barbells and dumbbells, doing leg-ups and crunches, whatever the program told him to do, he did. I had to grab him a few drinks from time to time, but whatever made him happy was good enough for me. Kevin’s sudden spurt caught more than a few passing eyes as meatheads and coaches alike viewed his determination.

When workout time was done Abrams came and personally congratulated Kevin, smacking him on the back. Kevin just huffed and swayed on his feet. He looked a little out of it. Must’ve been from watching that hologram for so long. I’m pretty sure having a green light glowing in my face all day shouting at me would leave me the same way.

“Thanks, Coach,” he said, smiling.

“Keep this up and you’ll be ready to advance in no time.”

“Sure thing, Coach. That’s what I’m working towards.”

“That’s the spirit!” Then Abrams smacked him in the butt. Kevin jumped, immediately reaching back to grab the point of impact while Abrams placed a meaty hand on his shoulder. “Easy there, tiger. It’s just an expression here. Means you’re doing a good job. High fives, fist bumps, chest bumps, and head butts are also common ways to express approval and friendship here. You’ll get used to the idea in time.”

“Oh. Um … okay,” Kevin said uncertainly. “Still not sure I like it though.”

“Just give it time. In the meanwhile, go hit the showers. You’ve earned yourself a big meal tonight.” Kevin’s rumbling stomach agreed heartily. The two of them laughed together, and while I did not join in, I couldn’t help but smile. This coach may not be the nicest guy in the world, but at least he was willing to help Kevin achieve his goal. Maybe I should give him a break.

 ~Day 4~

Hello, Journal. It’s me, yet again. I decided to hit the sack early last night and see if I couldn’t beat the stupid alarm clock. As it turns out, I was actually successful today. It’s a bit dark as I’m typing here, but fortunately I’m a skilled touch typist. Thank you, key strokes lab. What would I do without you?

So anyways, last night we all had a great meal and I cheered Kevin on as he ate. The accomplishments he’d managed that day were positively insane. I was shocked he hadn’t pulled a muscle or something with all the work he’d been doing, but somehow he pulled through. Our enforcers slapped him a few good times on the back, knocking his food out of his hands and making him choke once or twice. Fortunately, it wasn’t too serious. He just coughed it out. I scanned the mess hall. Most of the men in sight were beginners like us. Still, the hall was rather spacious, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they had a schedule shift for the meatheads. Maybe a different mess hall, too. Who knows what else is down there in that abyss of a gym? But I digress.

After we finished with our dinner, Kevin said he was going to take a shower. I immediately and heartily seconded the motion. We laughed as we walked back together, two kids, one broad as a barn, the other skinny as a rail. Alright, I’m exaggerating a little, so sue me. Kevin actually looked like he was starting to pack on a little muscle and I admit I was jealous. Still am, I suppose. But I’ll get over it. He took his sweet time in the stalls, though. The sound of hissing hot water saturated the locker room and slowly spread into our barracks. Hey, I call it as I see it. That’s basically what we’re living in right now.

Anyways, the others came in. A good quarter or so went straight to their beds and started fiddling with their pads, having chosen not to work out, like me, for various reasons. The rest of them shuffled into the showers like the walking dead with tired smiles. Soon a chorus of cascading jets joined Kevin’s solo, causing steam to billow out the portal and into our living quarters. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as that same odor I first smelled this morning assaulted my nostrils. Like I said, I don’t like it all that much. The collective chorus of groans and moans told me just how much these men really looked forward to their showers. I can’t really blame them, I suppose. If I were covered in sweat and grime and reeking B.O. I’d probably want a shower too. Not to mention the relief the heat would give to sore and torn muscle tissue.

Then the whole barracks turned toward the showers as an unmistakable sound assaulted our ears. Music, static, voices, car screeches, and sports commentary filtered through the mist like a forgotten dream. That’s right. They have real television here. What a novelty … in the bathroom. Idiots.

The men filed out a few at a time as showers slowly cut off and TVs died. Some smiled triumphantly. Others cried because of memories invoked either of family or their pasts before being dragged into this nightmare. Then there were those silent few who just sort of glided their way past as they made their way to bed. I saw one or two of them tap something into their pads. Next thing I knew their drawers were popping open as they pulled out a gangly pair of ear buds. They plugged them in, shoved the buds in their ears, lay down on their beds and tapped something before they lay their pads on their footlockers/dressers. I could just make out a play bar. It was probably some sort of MP.3 file, most likely to relax a person as they tried to fall asleep. Either that or it had some sort of instructions to help them improve in their workouts and they were listening to pass the time before lights out. Whatever. Anyways, I curled up in my sheets as I waited for darkness to claim me, the curious buzzing of the fluorescent lights gradually lulling me to sleep. The last thing I thought I heard was the familiar click of a dresser followed by the sound of the scanner.

Someone said “… Gotta update my stats.” Then I lost all consciousness.

I um … have to go take care of something real quick. Be right back.

There, all done. The alarm system seems to be kicking in again. But it looks like the lifts are slowing down this time. They didn’t even have to go up all the way before half the people were out of bed. I guess there are some things the body learns to adapt to quickly. Oh, gross! Some of the men here are scratching their unmentionables like it’s nothing. Actually, a lot of the guys are looking a little flushed today. They rushed over to the bathrooms faster than I’ve ever seen anyone go before. I could hear the showers running and happy sighs of relief followed by guttural grunts. Probably morning stretching to loosen everything up.

Those darn TVs are on again. Are they trying to drive us up the wall? Do they seriously think that this will make me do what they want? All I can do is pretty much walk, and even that I can’t do very well for extended periods. I wish they’d just see that already and send me home. Why the scanner didn’t pick up my asthma, I have no clue. Oy, there’s that stupid smell again. Don’t these men know how to turn on a fan?

Wow. It’s been like a half hour and they’re still going in there. Well, some at least. Guess there really is such a thing as a TV addict. I think I’m gonna go talk with Kevin. See how he’s doing. I’ll turn on the audio for this one.

ACCESSING #56 AUDIO FILE 002

“Hey, Kevin. How’s it going?”

“Huh? Oh, hey Kyle. Just booting up my schedule for the day. Wanted to see what coach had signed up for me next, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. How’re those muscles doing today?”

“Actually, a lot better. Those protein drinks really do a great job. Missed you in the showers last night.”

“Meh, didn’t need one. I wasn’t a sweaty mess like some people in this room.” (I laughed here. Kevin knows I’m not the snobby type and he soon joined me.)

“I noticed you were in bed before lights out. You aren’t trying to earn brownie points with coach and the others are you?”

“What, are you kidding? I’m just trying to survive in this place. I’d rather not die from a broken neck after these deathtraps fling us into a wall.”

“Well, at least we’re all alive and healthy. That’s what really matters right now. Things could be a lot worse for us.”

“You always look on the bright side of things, don’t you?”

“Of course. How else do you think I have the motivation to work like this? I had to forgive coach first. Trust him. You know. He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“Yeah … still not gonna do that just yet. Maybe later, if he proves himself. Maybe.”

“Well he already has to me. Hate to cut this short, but coach assigned me some recordings to listen to before I go work out. We’ll talk more at breakfast, alright?”

“Fine by me, jock boy. Just be careful.” (I winked at him as he groaned and rolled his eyes.)

END TRANSMISSION

…

I didn’t see Kevin at breakfast. He wasn’t in the gym either when I checked in. I did a slow walk on a treadmill, just to get those glaring guards off my back. I did alright. Was a little hard pressed for breath by the end, but at least I didn’t have an attack. I went over to the weights, but still didn’t see Kevin, so I went back to the barracks. I was about to scan in when the doors disengaged and out stepped the very boy I’d been looking for. He blinked a few times and swayed on his feet.

“Kevin?” I asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?” he blinked again a few times before his eyes came back into focus. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s the matter, got tired of waiting for me?”

“Well yeah, it’s been nearly three hours.”

Kevin laughed. “Three hours. That’s a good one.”

“… It would be. If I were joking. Breakfast is already way past. I even walked on the treadmill a little. You missed it.”

“What?” he exclaimed, shocked.

“Yup.”

“That’s great. Working out’s good for you.” He smiled. “You’ll be making friends out of those thugs in no time.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. But seriously, what were you doing?”

“I was … um … listening to a file, I think. Then next thing I know I’m sitting all alone.” He blushed. “I um … may have taken another shower, too. And maybe watched some T.V.” He rubbed the back of his head and I was assaulted by the scent of Axe body spray. I took a step back.

“Phew, too much, Kevin. Way too much.” He blushed sheepishly.

“It was either that or let the B.O. seep through. All that sweat’s making me reek like a stale side of ham.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad.”

“Look, I just need to wear it okay? So drop it.” The aggression in his voice was enough to make me back off.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” The rest of that day was all silence as he worked and worked and worked some more. A scowl stood out on his face as he pushed as hard as he could, glistening in the fluorescent lights. By the time he was finished, he stomped off, leaving me behind.

“… Sorry,” I said, paling. I looked around to the others. Weights clanked, grunts sounded, heavy breathing filled the air, and every once in a while I heard a “yes, sir, Coach.” I sighed and made my way out of the gym and back to the barracks. Not like I had much else to do with all these people glaring at me. My one friend’s too angry to speak to me now anyways. Like clockwork, the men entered the room and made for the showers. A couple of them are busy posing in front of their mirrors, flexing a bicep and grinning like idiots. Then they sit and plug in their ear buds, staring at nothing. I sighed and got ready to sleep once more as the sound of music playing combined with sports commentary drifts over from the shower room. I’m not all that hungry today. I think I’ll skip dinner and just sleep. Goodnight.

 ~Day 5~

It’s quiet this morning. A few more are wearing their headphones as they sleep. Probably some of those subliminals designed to help people focus more on their goals. Maybe they’re self-help tapes. I don’t know. I’m still not feeling any better about what’s going on after yesterday. Sleep came pretty hard for me last night with those TVs echoing from the shower stalls. I wish they had some sort of a mute button or a sound proof wall or something. It’s seriously annoying. That and the men starting to admire themselves in the mirror. I mean, seriously. I understand if it’s a teenager like me, but adults? They’re grownups for crying out loud. I thought they were supposed to be past the vanity stage. Sorry for the rant.

I’m looking over at Kevin’s bed. He’s lying flat on his back, his breathing steady as he smiles. The kid actually doesn’t look half bad. He’s been getting a little more toned over the last week. No major gains yet, obviously. That’d be ridiculous. But he is getting there. Even after the whole argument yesterday, I’m glad he still has the chance to get what he wants. I wish I could.

I’m getting up for my scan now. Might as well get it over with. That, and apparently, my “code” won’t work if I don’t check myself into the scanner at least once or twice a week. In other words, no scan, no freedom. I’m sighing now as it runs over me, typing this to pass the time. It seems to be taking longer for some reason. Probably finally picking up on my asthma, at least I hope. Maybe then I can go home and I won’t have to bother Kevin again. Feels kind of tingly.

…