Lifting Up And Dumbing Down Part 10

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 10

“There you are.” You look down at the small rectangular device Doctor Schroder has handed you. “That little thing will help you focus and make certain behavioral changes in your life to speed up the process as you change your body. As in all things with hypnosis, it will only work if you want it to work. The tracks are labeled, and I’ve included a master list here for you to know which tracks do what. They’re sectioned off by waking and sleeping. And as you can see, each of the waking tracks is further divided for different functions and actions: working out, diet, that sort of thing.” “And all I have to do is push the track number?” “Yup. The rest will take care of itself. I’ve also included a few temporary tracks for the sake of role playing. They’ll allow you to slip into various characters within the muscular stereotypes, while you’re at home. Take the time to get familiar with each of them. Once you find the one that fits you best, I advise you try leaning towards that. Then again, I’m not the director, so you may want to keep using all of them, in case the one you like isn’t the one the director prefers.” “And that’s it?” “Pretty much. From here on out, it’s up to you to brush up on each of the characters and learn how to talk and act like them. My purpose from this point onward is to simply help guide you to achieve the optimal expression of those stereotypes.” “And do we have enough time to work on some of those now?” “Plenty. Why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on thus far, and we’ll move forward from there?”

Duff cocked his head as he peered at you. You felt a little embarrassed at such scrutiny, despite how that was your main form of income. “You’re definitely different,” he mused. “It’s subtle, but I can see a little progress.” “It’s only been a week. How can I make progress that fast?” you counter. “I’m not pulling your leg, man. Just telling you my opinion.” “Sure you are.” “If you two are done chatting, it’s time for cardio,” Hank grated. “Move, kid.” The treadmill proved a refreshing exercise, after all the strain you’d put your body through the previous week. Duff pulled out an i-pod and laid it on a rest next to the controls, before threading a set of ear buds out and connecting them to the port. The rest of the run was sort of lonely as Duff stared ahead at the wall, but you couldn’t exactly blame him. The way Hank had you running, it wouldn’t have been too feasible to get a conversation going, anyways. After the warmup, he pushed you to your limits, focusing on endurance training once again. When all was said and done, you were ready to head home and shower again. You waved to Duff, but he seemed a little too distracted to respond. Some of the other builders were approaching him, and it looked like they were engaging in some sort of conversation. You shrugged it off and figured you’d text the guy later. It was only natural he’d have other friends in the gym, after all. He was a lot farther along in his progress.

That night, you peered up at the fathead of a vascular bodybuilder in a tight set of compression gear that clung to every meaty curve. You’d received it courtesy of Duff. According to the card info, he wanted to be able to give you something to work towards, but was too embarrassed to do it directly. Kinda weird for him to have done something like this when you’ve only known each other for about a week or so, but you weren’t about to argue about it. The guy was so sweet, after all. The builder smoldered down at you, an unspoken challenge in that harsh gaze as he pumped a pair of massive dumbbells. Your CHANGE IS GOOD sign stood out prominently on his chest. You look into those eyes one more time and chuckle to yourself as you reach for your lamp. “Goodnight, meathead.” You pause a moment. “Hmm. ‘Goodnight, meathead.’ Not a bad motivator,” you muse. You decide to print it up later. Then you chuckle as you flick off the light. Maybe you’ll dream again. As that thought crosses your mind, a familiar tingle runs faintly over your body. You can’t help but smile as you start to fade off. “I think I’d like that,” you yawn, then curl up on your side, and let the darkness take you.

Working Like a Thrall Chapter 2

Here’s the second chapter. By this point, I started incorporating our friend, the librarian into the story as a sort of pre-part, before going back into this “journal” of our protagonist. I hope you all enjoy it. P.S. What do you think of me linking PDF URL to my transformation stories, rather than putting the text directly in the post box? I can’t do it for all of them, but for those that I have posted elsewhere online in PDF files, I can. Please let me know what you think. Thanks! ~Omni

I totally agree one hundred percent. I may not like language much, but this artist has a point. One that, unfortunately, hits all too close to home for me. ^^;

It’s Not Fair

As someone pointed out to me tonight, and as something I have known for a long time and I know others know too, I’m just going to say it, even though it sounds childish:

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that the creators of our favorite shows are allowed to hang and display fan art of their shows on the walls, but they can’t even touch fanfiction.

It’s not fair that fan artists can be hired by authors and content creators to design content for them, but writers can’t.

It’s not fair that fan art gets thousands of notes, but fanfiction rarely hits more than double digits (all likes, no reblogs).

It’s not fair that we have to beg for responses to our work.

It’s not fair that people demand us for new updates moments after we put out a new one.

It’s not fair that if we charge “too much” for a commission, we don’t eat dinner that night, but I’ve seen fan art sketches get sold for over sixty dollars.

It’s not fair that every time a writer makes a post about how much it SUCKS to be a fanfiction writer, we get people in the comments saying “artists work hard too!”

We know they do.

It’s not fair that I have to put a disclaimer in to every post like this saying that I recognize how hard artists work, that I appreciate and adore them.

But fandom, every single fandom, creators included, is not fair to its writers.

And it fucking sucks.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 9

The familiar clack of weights echoes rhythmically in your ears as you pull the tethers, working at your lateral muscles. You feel your shoulders bunching and releasing as you pull down, then raise back up. The bar forces you to keep your arms apart as your neck muscles strain against the weight. “Lookin’ good, kid.” You look up in surprise. The man from the water fountain is staring at you from across the way. “Keep it up.” “Uh ... thanks?” you ask, confused at his sudden change of character. “It speaks.” He chuckles at you. “And here I thought you’d forgotten how.” “Excuse me?” “Leave him alone,” a deep baritone lowed from behind you. Heavy footfalls smack against the hardwood floor as Duff steps into view, but ... it isn’t Duff. It couldn’t be. The guy was monstrous! A massive sleeveless muscle tee barely held against the strain of his breathing. Everywhere you looked, you saw nothing but hard carved muscle. One glare from him and the other guy just scoffed and turned away, muttering under his breath as he lumbered to the fountain. “Duff?” “In the flesh, lil’bro.” He beams down at you. “Looks like you’re almost ready.” “Ready?” You furrow your brow in confusion. Duff just laughs huskily as he grabs the bar with one massive hand. “Come on. You’re done here.” He guides you to your feet and over to a floor-length mirror. What you see nearly makes your eyes pop out of your skull. A pair of compression shorts hugs tightly to calves the size of tree trunks. A hefty bulge presses comfortably against the crotch, and you gape at the size, before moving up the frame. A perfectly carved eight pack of abdominal muscles stares you in the face, followed by a set of firm, shelf-like pectorals. Your face is rigid and square, with no sign of fat to be found. The skin on your reflection glows in a golden tan that shines with sweat. Glazed-over eyes stare at you as the reflection grins. “I lift things up and put them down,” he says as he pops a flex and smacks his bicep firmly. It’s as big as a football, if not bigger. The voice was deep, distorted, and he sneered hungrily at you. You want to back away from that image as fast as you can, but you hit a solid wall and look up to see a grinning duff as he claps both hands on either of your shoulders and pushes you towards the mirror. “You lift things up and put them down,” he said. Your eyes widen, and you try to resist as your feet scrape and squeak against the hardwood floorboards. “No! I ... I’m not like that! It’s just a part!” you protest. “I lift things up and put them down.” “Please.” You feel tears streaming down your cheeks. “You lift things up and put them down,” Duff continues implacably. “We lift things up and put them down.” “We lift things up and put them down,” Hank’s gravely voice joins in. You turn in your head in surprise to see him grunting at the leg press, while lifting two massive dumbbells in either hand simultaneously. “We lift things up and put them down,” the gym goers began to join in, one after the other. Soon it was a chorus, rigid, united, almost mindlessly so. “You lift things up and put them down.” Soon you’re in front of the mirror. “I lift things up and put them down,” your reflection utters again. A warm feeling washes over your foot as it makes contact and the surface ripples as your doppelganger grins. “I lift things up and put them down,” he says more excitedly than before. You shudder as a wave of heat washes over you. “We lift things up and put them down,” Duff repeated mindlessly in your ear, “you lift things up and put them down.” “I ... I....” Your face is flushing. “Lift things up and put them down,” your doppelganger finished, even as your fingers touched the mirror and began to pass through, rippling the surface. “But....” Your breathing is coming more heavily now as your heart begins to race. You watch as the warmth spreads over your hand, and it suddenly expands before you, becoming almost half as large again. Your doppelganger looks at you with hungry eyes. “We lift things up and put them down,” the gym thundered. “We lift things up and put them down.” Over and over, the chant echoed and rebounded. You gasp as you feel a hand clasping yours through the mirror’s surface. “I lift things up and put them down,” he says, and you watch as your arm balloons with muscle, swelling to match the hand that had just grown. Your legs inflate as your feet snap and crack into gigantic plank-like things to support your growing weight. The weight of Duff’s hands suddenly leaves. The hand you’re holding isn’t pulling. You could leave. You could try to run. You should!

... But you don’t. And ... you’re not sure why you don’t. Duff has lumbered over to a weight rack, and is now pumping in time to the all-encompassing chant. He grins at you knowingly. “We lift things up and put them down,” he says simply. Then his gaze grows distant, and he seems to be more muttering it out of habit than out of any form of encouragement, so engrossed is he with the pump he’s building. “I lift things up and put them down.” You shudder as you bring your gaze back to peer into your doppelganger’s face. There is an unspoken invitation in those eyes, in that phrase. You groan as a wave of pleasure flows through your body and you feel the distinct heft of a new weight between your legs. Your breathing becomes panting, which metamorphoses into grunts. “I....” Do you ... want this? “I lift things up and put them down.” “I....” It feels so good, but ... what happens, if you accept? “We lift things up and put them down.” “I....” You don’t know. And it’s getting harder to think through the pleasure. You feel the surface of the mirror against your abs, licking away at your skin. It feels almost like a bath. Your doppelganger looks seriously at you as your shoulders jerk and crack to either side, expanding with your widening back to make room for a thicker, broader torso. Your jaw clenches as stronger muscles in the throat swell and expand to strain against your skull. You feel your adam’s apple bob as you swallow reflexively. Your other arm expands to match its mate. “I lift things up and put them down.” The mindless quality is gone. It’s like he’s taking you more seriously now. Two hands clasp two hands and both of your muscles tense at the strain, the sensation. Another wave of pleasure rides through you. You are enjoying this. “I ... how ... what...?” Your doppelganger just shakes his head. The chorus continues to ring in the air around you and through your skull. He looks at you intently, as if to command you. As if to say, Decide. “I....” Lift things up and put them down. “I....” LIFT THINGS UP AND PUT THEM DOWN. “I....” LIFT THINGS UP AND PUT THEM DOWN! You shudder. You groan. And finally, you voice your reply. “I lift things up and put them down.” Your eyes roll in the back of your head as a veritable tsunami of pleasure washes over you. You hear a distinctive crack, completely oblivious to how your jaw has shifted to its new block-like appearance. You step through the mirror. You embrace your doppelganger. And damn, does it feel good. You hear the sound of shattering glass. You look around. Duff is there, proffering you his dumbbells. A smile pulls at your lips as you take them from him, and the phrase slides so naturally out your mouth. “I lift things up and put them down.” Duff grins and replies, “We lift things up and put them down.” And suddenly, that was all you wanted to do. And it was okay.

You gasp as you come awake in a cold sweat. The dream had been so vivid. You shuddered at the memory, even as you turned to look at your alarm clock. 4:00 AM You groan and turn over in your covers. Had that really been you? Did some part of you actually enjoy all of this? The dream had certainly been enough to get certain bodily functions running hot. Could it be that you actually ... wanted to build all that muscle? You shook your head. More likely than not, it was just your subconscious trying to remove the trauma you’d experienced over the last week. All the same, ... you could still feel that familiar tingle, and your breathing still felt somewhat labored. You tensed and released your muscles a few times. The soreness had mostly faded. Wet dreams aside, you felt pretty good. Maybe there was something to this regimen, after all.

The (former) Companion

We spoke just the other day.

You never left me after.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 11

You groan as your alarm goes off and you open your bleary eyes. No dream this time, or at least not that you remember. You scratch at your chest and slowly rise to pull the earbuds out. Then you look up at the fathead again and offer a brief salute. “Morning, meathead.” You get up and scratch at your crotch as you make your way to the bathroom mirror. You yawn as you stretch, then flex your arm the same way you have been for the last two weeks. “One more day, and you’ll be a proper habit,” you mutter. You put on that easygoing smile you’ve been practicing and let out a chuckle as you relax your gaze, letting your eyes appear to glass over. You pitch your voice lower (you find that so much easier in the morning) and pat your bicep. “Morning, meathead.” A shudder passes through your body, and you feel a slight stirring below. Ever since you started on those recordings, that’s felt better and better to say. You still don’t think you’re nearly big enough to qualify, but time and effort has at least yielded some results. You see a bit more perk in the bicep than you had expected, and the surface is less yielding than it had been when you first started, giving off less of a smack and more of a dull thump on impact. After you’ve showered and dressed in your gym clothes, you make your way to the kitchen, where you fix a massive pile of blueberry pancakes to go with your protein shake, or whatever it was. Part of something called the bulk cycle. You eat a lot of carbohydrates, mostly healthier ones, and then use them to build up mass that you turn into more muscle. At least, that’s how Duff had described it, after Hank gave the order. It went against everything you had come to know as a model, but since this was for the sake of bodybuilding, you had little choice but to trust the experts. You ate ravenously, using the shake to wash down the quick bread, and finished in just a few minutes. You piled the frying pan into the sink and loaded up the dishwasher, taking just enough time to dust in some soap and start the cycle, before running back to grab your keys, wallet, and gym bag, then make your way out the door. You run the pre-workout pump track through your ears as you jog to the bus stop. Your heart races and you feel the surge as the recording goes into full swing. By the time you reach the bus stop, you feel too energized to stop, so you jog in place, while you wait. It’s been getting harder to just sit around for any period of time. If it weren’t for the music in your track, the bus ride would be absolute murder. By the time you arrive near the gym, you’re practically blowing through those doors, where a smirking Hank stands waiting. “Leg day,” he noted casually. You just smirk confidently, the music thumping in your ears. “Bring it on.”

“Damn, man. You plowed through those exercises today,” Duff noted as the two of you passed through the gym’s doors and into the frigid air. Then he laughed. “Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes next time. Hank’s just gonna up his game, you know.” “Hey, I made it through the worst of it, didn’t I? I could’ve stopped coming, but I didn’t. If I can adjust to this, I can adjust to whatever he throws at me.” Duff shakes his head and chuckles. “Try to keep that in mind, when you’re going through hell.” “Shut up,” you laugh and punch him softly on the arm. “Seriously, though, I’ve gotta ask. What’re you listening to?” You shrug. “Custom tracks to help me focus as I work out. It’s part of the contract.” “Mandated?” “Pretty much. If there’s anything I don’t like in the script, I can take it back to the doc no problem.” You shrug. “It’s actually pretty cool. She put me in a carousel once, while we were testing to find the right blend for me. It was pretty cool.” “And you trust her?” “She’s a professional, and she strongly advised me against allowing the role to define me as I grow into it. All the tracks are designed to do is give me motivation and help me get into character for brief periods of time. Come to think of it, I haven’t tried one of those yet.” You tap your chin. Duff blushed, even as his lips curled into a smile. “Let’s just say you’re in for a surprise, then.” “A good one, I hope.” “Depends on how much you enjoy it.” Duff shrugged. “I like it, myself. It puts me in the right frame of mind when I’m working out.” “That reminds me, actually. When I first came in, Hank called you a beginner. If you’ve been working in the gym for so long on building up, why’d he say that?” “Probably because I haven’t really bulked up much yet. I’ve been sort of stuck at a plateau for a while now. I think it’s why he’s let us hang out so much. He probably wants us to train together, once you’re at a point where you can handle it.” “Handle it?” “Your body’s only just adjusting to the strain of a more serious workout on a regular basis. I work out almost every day now, both as part of my fitness program and my training here. It’s going to take a couple more weeks at least, before you’re ready to pump that kind of iron on a regular basis.” “But I will be able to one day.” Duff looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “You sound almost excited about it.” “Determined. There’s a difference.” Duff smirked, then chuckled. “Not much. Think I might be able to watch you? I’m curious to see how you act.” “Think you can handle if I act like a total jerk?” Duff shrugged. “You don’t have to be, if you don’t want to be.” “Touche.” “I’ll take that as a yes.” “Hey!”