I Agree With This Message, Though I Will Go One Step Further And Say The Same Can Apply To All Men And

I agree with this message, though I will go one step further and say the same can apply to all men and boys. Don’t fit yourself into a box. Choose who you want to be and work to be that. Find what’s right for you. Don’t let others choose it for you.

Since I couldn’t get the old post uncensored, here’s the story again with the same image, which is CLEARLY FINE with tumblr guidelines. Hopefully it won’t get flagged this time.

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Off The Record

Day 1:

Well, here’s day one of my voice journal. I’ve officially been processed and am now a part of the new exchange program between Earth and Braün. My quarters have been set up, and I start my job tomorrow. Since I majored in biology and health sciences on Earth, I’ve been tasked with working at a gym with Braün trainers and dietitians to gain a better understanding of this world’s nutrition and eating habits. Since our two worlds are integrating at such a rapid pace, it’s good for Earth to know what Braünies like and vice versa. I can’t wait to see all the different kinds of cuisine this world has to offer. Who knows? Perhaps some of the food here will have unknown benefits for humans back on Earth. I suppose time will tell. Regardless, it’s definitely exciting.

Day 4:

I’ve gone through orientation and training. The boss has me working the bar for now. The healthy snacks they serve here are really high quality. Fruits, vegetables, smoothies, shakes, all designed with a healthy body in mind. You won’t find any artificial flavors or preservatives here. And they produce all this quality sustainably! I don’t know how they do it! Boss says it’s cheap manual labor from other worlds. Apparently, Earth isn’t the first planet they’ve had contact with that had people who wanted to work here. Go figure. I wonder what happened to them. I asked, but the boss just smiled and said they were around.

Day 6:

I’m really feeling the effects of this world now. I don’t know whether it’s radiation, gravity, or something else, but my body is swelling like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve gotten more than a few compliments from patrons on the changes, and my locker has been equipped with a scanner to check my measurements and dispense a uniform accordingly. I suppose after so many worlds with this effect happening, the Braünies have turned the effects into a system of sorts, or rather have formed a system around the effects. Smart planning on their part.

Day 12:

Can hardly believe so much time has passed. You’d think I would have gotten bored with my job by now, but it’s actually really engaging. Boss gave me some schematics highlighting Braünian anatomy. The similarities between our two races is astounding, though it appears that they have a more advanced culture from an intellectual standpoint. The average  Braüny brain is positively overloaded with furrows, and their neurons fire off at an exceptionally faster rate than the human brain can. It’s fascinating watching the file in slow motion.

Not only that. It’s clear that they have vast differences in their anatomy when it comes to certain glands found within the body and their digestive processes. They are literally able to eat anything they wish and burn the good fuel, while purging the excess. Their livers have a far higher tolerance than the human equivalent and purge the toxins via their sweat glands and other natural means. They can even spew these toxins as an emergency function the way we sometimes spew spit when we hit the gland under the tongue just right, albeit with more force and volume than we generate.

Their pituitary glands are larger than ours, but their skulls have developed in such a manner that this doesn’t prove a hindrance to overall brain function. As a result, these people are able to build muscle and libido at a startling rate. No wonder they look like Adonises. The natural radiation that emanates from this planet’s core has an effect akin to steroids. It forces the body to engage in a rapid form of evolution and regeneration of tissue, be it plant or animal. Think Darwinism at a highly accelerated rate. In short, this planet is a gold mine for anyone looking to heal or recover from serious diseases. The radiation not only kills cells that are cancerous and destroys decaying brain tissue, but forces the body to create new and stronger variations, based on the original template. Apparently, the majority of this world’s vast economic income is a direct result of this natural benefit, though they guard their planet’s ores religiously. They won’t suffer anyone to mine or trade in their minerals, save through the strictest security channels. I can’t really blame them, given the results I’ve seen in my own body over these last couple of weeks. It’s positively fascinating.

I can’t wait to learn more.

Day 20:

I’m so full of energy today. I think I’ve grown a good few inches, and my casual wear had become tight. It won’t be long before my old clothes from Earth are completely useless. Boss and others have noticed and compliment me regularly on my progress. It’s nice to be appreciated. I admit, I’ve been catching glimpses of myself in the mirror on the sly. I’m still not used to the spandex that I have to wear, but it’s not quite so embarrassing to me as it was when I first had to don the material. The rapid growth in tone and mass has certainly helped in that regard.

Day 25:

I’m starting to wonder if the gym owner is using me for eye candy. I’ve seen more than a few customers leer at me on the side when I’ve been making shakes. Nobody’s flirted with me or touched me inappropriately so far, but I wonder how long that might last at this rate. Thank goodness for security cameras. If anybody does try something, I should be able to substantiate my claims.

Day 30:

I’ve brought up my concerns with my boss today. He was actually surprisingly understanding about it. He promised to have a talk with the patrons and put me on towel duty in the locker room in the meantime. I didn’t realize there were so many patrons here. Practically every hamper was full. I suppose it makes sense, though. A lot of people would probably come her to take a short cut to get in shape. Gyms are probably some of the most lucrative businesses a person can own on this world.

I admit I haven’t had much time to focus on my own body yet. There hasn’t really been much of a need with how things have been going, but I can’t help but wonder what might happen if I put in the effort on top of my usual work.

Day 40:

I tried a workout on my last day off. The difference is ... well, it’s incredible. I must have gained at least a good two pounds of muscle mass. The euphoria is incredible. I’d almost go so far as to say orgasmic. Could the radiation be effecting my brain chemistry? Maybe I should get a scan done....

Day 50:

Finally got the results back for my scan. The difference from my arrival to now is night and day. My body is raging with hormones. It’s almost like I’ve entered into a second puberty on overdrive. My pituitary glands are swollen, which explains the minor headaches I’ve been experiencing. Boss has given me a few days off to rest and adapt. Apparently, I’m experiencing their version of The Bends. Parts of my body are essentially pushing too quickly for the rest to catch up. I’m on strict orders for bed rest with no physical exertion of any kind for the next week, until things balance out again.

Fortunately, I won’t have to spend my enforced solitude in complete boredom. Boss was good enough to supply more files on Braüny anatomy and their typical dietary habits, as well as historical documentaries and videos about their cultural and technological development. He’s even got some audio files I can listen to if my headaches become too strong to focus on a screen. What a kind man.

Day 60:

I tried Belaragna today. Think of it like a sort of lasagna, but instead of a meat sauce, there are thin strips of meat cooked within the layers, and the pasta is made from a local vegetable that looks like a potato. Its texture changes in the oven when cooked to become exactly like the stuff from home. It’s incredible! And the sauce! Ohhhh, it is the nectar of the gods. Organic’s got nothing on this world’s produce. Rather than the usual tang you find in tomatoes, this one has a mellow fruity flavor that’s been augmented with a hint of vinegar and dill to pickle it before it’s blended and reduced to a base. This thing is a balanced meal in and of itself.

And then the smoothie! I don’t know how they got it so creamy and smooth, but the drink washed down my gullet before I could blink. I find myself wanting more, and my stomach agrees. Maybe there’s some sort of natural oils or something designed to speed metabolism?

Day 75:

Two and a half months already gone. Time flies way too fast here. I’m learning so much, though. It seems as though the planet was originally colonized by an advanced civilization a long time ago, but something happened to them, and they essentially were wiped from the planet. Eventually, the Braünians evolved from the primordial chaos. There are many instances of slavery throughout their history, but over time, the Braünians appeared to gain the upper hand. These people are exceptionally skilled at adaptation to the point of exceeding the most brilliant minds of their captors within a generation or two and then using that knowledge to free themselves. This pattern of conquest and conquered has repeated in an endless cycle, until the more modern era, where this race decided to start their own exploration and to offer their home world as a gift to others, rather than leave it open to be conquered. After all, if one has many who are interested in protecting the investment this world has to offer, it is far less likely for an enemy to try to take over. It really is a genius strategy, all things considered.

Eventually, they got an intergallactic treaty signed to the effect that they are to be considered a neutral world in which any race may take shelter for healing, training, etc., within reason. No war would be tolerated, however, and any found to be breaking the edicts of this rule would be punished harshly. When they discovered Earth and how readily we adapted to things on this world, of course they were ecstatic to have us. In a way, I suppose we’re kindred spirits. Humanity has faced their own struggles in this regard among themselves over the last several millennia. It’s ingenuity that allows a person to overcome those kinds of troubles and rise to a new plane, or plateau, if you prefer.

Oop, gotta go. Boss is treating me to dinner tonight. He wants to hear what I think of my studies so far.

Day 90:

Time has been passing so quickly! I feel like my brain is in hyper drive. I keep sopping up data and figures like a sponge. I’ve never felt so sharp before. I ask more questions, and Boss keeps offering more material. At this rate, I’m going to need to apply for authorization for membership at the local archives. Boss couldn’t have offered more encouragement if he tried. I love his attitude.

Day 120:

It took a while, but I finally got authorization. It’s astounding how many people were waiting in line. Based on the clothing they were wearing, they were contract workers, like me. I suppose they wanted to find out more about Braün, too. The way some of them limped away, though, I’m pretty sure not everyone was accepted.

I have to access the data in these specialized booths. Kiosks is more accurate, I suppose. I’ve also been given what equates to a data holder arm guard for my forearm. It communicates with the system for me and shows my progress on each of the media. It even has reminders for due dates to return to the kiosks by. Useful little gadget. Love the voice recognition software, too.

Day 140:

I’ve just come across the information on the power supply for this world. Apparently, they use all manual labor to produce it. The men must be absolute titans to be able to endure that kind of abuse for such extended periods. Boss tells me they perform in shifts, so there’s no abuse, just productivity. I still find it odd, though. Then again, with the sheer volume of production this world has in produce, etc., I suppose they can afford that kind of burden without having any major loss. Still, to produce enough energy for a whole world, these people must be beyond anything a normal person could produce.

Day 160:

I caught some customers salivating while I was making their drinks. Maybe they had too much to drink the night before? It helps having a better understanding of Braüny anatomy. Still, I never expected to draw so much attention from customers. I mean, I know I’m stronger now. I’ve been taking a few selfies to document my changes as I grow, but still....

Day 170:

I’ve been reading into how physical exertion affects the body on this world. The cellular reproductive rate makes it so a person can exercise almost every day without fear of the usual slow aching recovery back on Earth. I’ve begun salivating a little more often myself, lately. I wonder if my body is developing a similar system to purge itself of toxin buildup. If so, it could explain some of the more *ahem* aesthetically pleasing changes I’ve experienced. My body can grow uninhibited by the lesser technologies and additives Earth provides. Mmm ... wonder how I’ll look in a couple more months.

Day 180:

Decided to visit a power station today and get to know some of the providers. The lunch room is public territory for visitors and workers alike, so I had the opportunity to approach a few of the men and ask about their experiences.

From what little I was able to get out of them, the work and pay are, “Good. Paid to work out. Living the dream.” They aren’t very big on talking. They hardly seemed to recognize me, really. I suppose they’re just a tight-knit group. Their eyes are glazed over when they look at most of the room, but when they lock gazes with another worker, it’s different somehow. It doesn’t matter what race or species they are. They each seem to communicate on a different level. Perhaps it’s some form of tech they’re fitted with to make the job easier as they cooperate with one another? After all, if they all work together to provide the power, then that means they would need to be able to work in unison, right?

I asked one of the newer employees. He hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of the group yet, so he was more talkative, albeit not quite so helpful. “Uh, ... I guess,” was about all I could get out of him before he took a massive bite out of a burger or patty of some sort. “We just ... sort of do it.” I still remember that guffaw of his. “I don’t really know anything. Just, ... lift n’work. Huhuh. Lift n’work...” I didn’t get much farther than that. One of the behemoths in a larger uniform sat down next to him, and I vacated the vicinity. I noticed a close form of body contact, though, and the two shared their laughter as they ate and conversed about their weights and other duties. I suppose the titan must have been his supervisor or trainer or something. He even shoved another tray full to the brim with food in front of the guy. He didn’t even question it, just dove right in.

I admit, I can sympathize with their need to consume so much food. If they work all day while their metabolisms continue to burn hot, it only makes sense that they’d need a massive amount of calories to fuel their bodies. I’ll also admit, seeing them eating filled me with a certain amount of hunger pains, myself. Maybe I’ll sneak in a few shakes while I’m at work.

Day 195:

Harvest season is coming up. Boss says it’s a time that everyone on the planet enjoys. There is little information on the database about it. Some sort of festival is involved for native culture only. Not even naturalized citizens are allowed to participate. I suppose it has to do with the planet’s heritage. Clients have been pretty tight-lipped when I ask them about it at work. On the plus side, at least we’ll be getting more food soon. I can’t get enough of this planet’s vast and rich abundance of produce. It’s incredible!

Day 210:

I appear to have developed either a photographic or eidetic memory. Travel guides, encyclopedias, history books, science textbooks. It keeps flowing in. I visit the kiosks more and more often. Some days, I don’t even leave the booths. My head keeps clinging to more information. I can name diets, diseases, treatments, natural remedies, battles, conquests, technology, fitness, chemical formulae, important historical figures. So much. So, so much. How far will this go? I ... I don’t want to risk breaking my brain. But ... I can’t seem to stop. I ... I want to listen. I want to learn. I need it almost as much as I need the fourth meal I’ve added to my regimen.

What is happening to me?

Day 230:

I feel so much heavier lately. It’s like the more I absorb up top, the bigger my body gets. My libido is through the roof, and everyone seems to notice. It’s making me exceedingly self-conscious. The scanner in the locker room provides me with new clothing, but I can’t wear anything else now. I can only wear my uniform, because of how quickly I outgrow things. At least the computer on my arm still fits. I guess its designed to adapt. Good thing, too. My voice is so low now! The voice recognition must take a sample from me daily.

Boss has me working out on the floor. I suppose it makes sense. I seem to be bigger than most of the patrons now. I give them the drive to push forward with their own progress. Cleaning the equipment and floors is simple enough, and I usually finish the job quickly. Towel duty is a real chore, though. I can’t begin to tell you the number of times I’ve had to run to the laundry chute and back again.

Things are getting snug behind the drink bar counter, but many patrons still prefer me and my service. I think it’s more my body that must draw them, though. Maybe humans are more attractive for some reason? I don’t know. At this point, I could probably take any one of them on, if they try anything funny, so I let the looks slide.

Day 250:

I’m up to five meals a day now at at least double portions from my original state. At this point, I feel closer to the incredible hulk. It’s so hard to sit there and tend customer orders by the counter. My body wants to move now. I’ve started using the equipment after closing. It’s the only way I can fall asleep at night anymore. That, and the surround sound my bedroom provides.

Day 260:

I’m so tired lately. It’s hard for me to focus some days. I have to read over lines a few times now, before I can get the information to sink in. Not that there’s much more I really have to study on the planet. My body continues to weigh me down, yet there is pleasure in it. The bigger I grow, the more compliments I receive, the greater pleasure I feel. It’s almost like a chain. Almost as if I’ve been ... programmed ... that... [DELETE FILE: Y/N]

...

...

...

Y

Day 265:

I’m the most popular employee at the gym. Everyone keeps wanting me to serve them. I’m not sure why. Boss just tells me to go with it for now. He’s sure things will die down eventually. I’m not so sure, but he is my employer, and I’m under contractual obligation to serve him and this place for the next year and a third.

The way they chug down their drinks, you’d think their lives depended on it. Boss has to shoo customers away from the counter. It’s sort of funny, in a way, watching them act like that. I don’t know why, but I’ve come to like watching them. They seem so greedy, almost desperate. I’m not sure why.

Day 270:

Harvest is in full swing. The Braünians are all out in force. I remember having to call the police once, when someone plastered a new arrival on the ground at the park. I tore that sucker off the kid and glared him down. He looked high or drunk. It didn’t take long for the authorities to sort things out and cart him away. Since then, Boss has been more protective of me. He says I painted a target across my back when I called that mobber on his BS. Not really sure how or why, unless the guy was part of a gang, but since Boss is Boss, I kind of have to follow his policies as he sees fit, provided they don’t breach my contract. He spots me now, when I work out. Then I do the same for him. I guess it’s cool. He has this weird sort of snort when he breathes in, says it has to do with part of his anatomy. Was that the weird flap I saw without a label on that anatomic diagram, then? I suppose it must be. No other explanation I can think of.

Day 280:

Oh, the pump feels so good. I love my job so much. I don’t know what it is. I just feel ... Idunno, euphoric? It’s so easy to just relax around these people now. I know them by name, and they love hanging out with me by the counter, when they can. Sometimes I just sort of lose myself when I’m making a shake, you know? All that sipping and snorting sort of falls by the wayside and I’m just ... there, you know?

It’s a weird feeling, but ... I like it.

Day 290:

Chowing down more food than ever. My body just won’t stop. It’s like I’m not even driving anymore. I read, but I just get so ... sleepy. It’s like the words don’t even matter anymore. I listen, but the sounds sort of pour through my ears. I guess my brain finally had enough soaking. Needs to be squeezed.

Yeah.

Squeezed. That’s funny.

Huhuh.

Day 300:

Boss pulled me aside today. Told me to take a break. I’ll take that break, all right, break that plateau I’ve been stuck on all week. I’m not done growing yet, not by a long shot.

Oh, that felt so good, just to say it. You can’t even imagine how it feels when it actually happens. I eat, and I grow. I eat, and I grow. I eat, I work, I grow.

And it just ... feels so good.

Day 310:

Bros, I ... I’m so big. So fuckin’ heavy. Can’t ... can’t stop ‘mirin in the mirror. I look back at my old photos and I’m like, who’s this fuckin’ twig, bro? It’s like ... like it’s not even me, y’know? Like ... like, uh ... out of body ... dream ... uh ... you know what I mean, right, bros?

Huhuhuh ... Sorry. Been kinda ... spacin’ out like that lately. S’like ... Idunno, like my thoughts just ... aren’t there anymore, y’know? S’like, all my thinking’s just ... swirling and blending and sucking right out a straw. Hey, just like those shakes i make! Huhuhuh. Yeah. Just like uh, like uh....

...

...

Oh, hey, Boss. ‘Sup? Nah, just finishing my voice journal. S’all good. Nah, I’m finished. Ready to work out?

Sweet!

Day 311:

Got some new bling on my duds today. Big ol’ black n’yellow buckle. Boss says it’s sort of like a weight belt. Keeps an eye on my body, makes sure I don’t overdo it. Like I could overdo anything with guns like these! Still, gotta do what boss says. You know how it is. Told him I didn’t wanna, but he just told me to wait n’see. He kinda stressed the first one a little heavy. Not sure why. Thought he might’ve had a cough or somethin’. He just said forget about it, so that’s what I did. Still kinda weird, though.

...

...

...

Pun...

Oh my....

Huhuhuhuhuhuh-- I’m such a fuckin’ dumbass!

Day 313:

Walked past the embassy today. Saw a big picture of me plastered next to this wimp of a kid. Thing was labeled Before and After. ’N I’m just like, Bro, is that even me? Like ... there must be some kind of mistake, right? ’Cus, like, I don’t remember ever bein’ that small. S’gotta be like, for uh, .... wadaya call it, a comparison. Don’t even look like me.

Huhuh. Yeah. S’not even me. ... Not even me.

DELETE FOLDER: PROGRESS PICS? [Y/N] Y

Not even me....

Day 320:

I keep wondering where all m’bros went. Bar’s so quiet. Boss said harvest’s over, so things’re gonna be sorta ... empty for a while.

...

I like empty.

It’s good ... to be ... Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......

“Good boy. Just relax and let me finish those last few drops of knowledge.... Mmm, what a fruitful venture you were, little tree. You’ll do very well at the power station, won’t you?”

Huhuhuhuhuh.......

INITIATE ADMINISTRATOR OVERRIDE RESET: [Y/N]

Y

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Day 1

Hello, Planet  Braün! ....

Saw a little of this on twitter. So glad to see a fuller version. This is totally worth the reblog.

Parasite and Girl

Please support me by donating on my Ko-fi or Patreon.

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Undo

Richard tapped frantically at the keys on his laptop. The apartment was calm and quiet. His roommates were out partying up at a D&D session, so he wouldn't have to worry about any interruptions for the next few hours. It had been like this for the last couple of weeks now. He’d either retreat to his room or work in the living room. Occasionally, he’d sneak to one of the school’s recording studios after hours. A procedure like this needed all the finesse he could conjure. Fortunately, nobody seemed to question him.

The device chirped as he slammed the enter key and ran the newest soundbite through his program to check for any errors before adding it to the track’s layers. His head whipped back around his shoulders for what had to be the thirtieth time as he turned to face the hall door behind his desk. A subtle creak of the floorboards, the heavy thump of footsteps in the apartment above, any number of noises had set him off. This time was no different. The portal yawned into the dark stillness beyond. Once again, no one was there.

It still didn’t make him feel any better. “Almost over,” he breathed in a low whisper. He shook his head and grit his teeth. “How could I be so stupid?” He reached for his water bottle and squeezed a stream of liquid down his throat. Adrenaline had dried the passage, and he found it needed almost constant lubrication if he breathed through his mouth. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help himself in this state. Pressure never was his thing. He gasped after satisfying his craving and worked to moderate his breathing in an attempt to calm his heart. “Just a little longer and it’ll all be over. Then you can fix this mess, undo what you did, and everything will be back the way it was.”

Richard stiffened when he felt a sudden weight clap down on his shoulders. Thick veiny hands stretched on either side of him. His throat closed to the barest hint of a passage. The lubrication he had only just applied vanished.

“Watcha workin’ on, bro?” The deep voice resonated through Richard’s chest as thick sculpted arms freshly pumped from a workout bent on either side of him. He could hear the heavy breath, smell the overpowering scent of Old Spice body wash mixed with AXE body spray. They gripped tighter than the hands and left Richard’s head spinning.

“Dick, ... I wasn’t expecting you,” he croaked, then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“It’s been awhile. We hardly see each other anymore. I’m always working out, and you’re always nerding it up. Speaking of, aren’t you supposed to be with the guys tonight, roomie?” A heavy hand slammed a music player on the table, then raised itself slowly to clap the shoulder again, this time in a companionable pat. 

“Special assignment,” Richard muttered. He eyed the player on the desk. “You been, uh, listening to your tracks?”

“On loop, bro! I can’t get enough of ‘em!” Dick’s diaphragm heaved with a deep dull laugh that left Richard’s frame bouncing like a pogo stick.

“You mean you don’t take any breaks?” Richard squeaked.

“Just when I sleep. Why should I, little bro? You know what that chick said in Hair Spray (though I think Hair Gel would’ve been a better name). You can’t stop the beat. Those tracks just leave me so fuckin’ pumped! I mean, sure, it was kinda weird at first, but now I don’t know what I’d do without ‘em! I mean, look at these guns!”

“I’m looking,” Richard said weakly. His face had gone pale.

“Seriously, though, thanks for making so many for me. I know you said it could bruise my brain and all that if the same stuff kept going all the time, so having all these different things to listen to really helps. And, I mean, variety is the spice of life, am I right?” Again, he chuckled.

Richard hunched and waited for the storm to pass. “Right....”

“So, what’s this one about?”

“I ... guess you could call it a biography of sorts? It’s a track that’s supposed to cement an identity, you know?”

“Bro, you wanna clone yourself? That’s sick! Who’s gonna be the subject?”

“I don’t know about cloning, exactly, but ... yeah, I suppose it might have a similar effect. Cementing a mind doesn’t necessarily have to involve turning it into something else, though. It could also be used to fortify a person’s subconscious and make them more confident in their current state. Think of it like an armor of sorts.”

“So, you mean like football pads?”

“Exactly. They shield a person from an opponent trying to tackle their subconscious into submission. Do it right, and it can even reverse the effects of previous trances.”

“Damn. You’re smart, little bro.”

Richard’s shoulders started to ache. “I try. Did, uh ... you want to listen to some of what I’ve got so far?”

Dick peered at the file and whistled. “That’s a lot of layers, bro.”

“I wanted to make it iron clad. I’m not gonna make you sit through the whole thing, but here.” Richard highlighted a clip and clicked the play button, and the recording began to play over the speakers.

I am Richard. My name is Richard. Richard is my name. Richard is smart. You are smart. Richard loves hypnosis. You love hypnosis. ... Love recording ... Listen ... Deep down ... Study ... Sleep ... Repeat ...

The snippets flowed like a babbling brook with the tones that Richard had chosen, leaving only fragments, but the few that could be made out pressed a shudder through Dick that forced Richard to vibrate with him.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” Dick swore.

“You’re biased. You’ve already heard my voice. It’s easier to drop you in trance with it.”

“So? Bro, you were able to put me in trance, me. I mean, sure, it’s easy now, but you and I both know the first time took, like, what, uh.....?”

“Three months, approximately,” Richard supplied quickly. The soreness was spreading into his neck and a little down his biceps now. He rolled them uncomfortably. “Uh, do you mind?”

“Oh, sorry, bro. Had a killer workout. Hardly even feel anything now, ya know? I just ... lift. It’s what I do.” The weight lightened as Dick adjusted his stance and he sighed. An odd tingling spread over Richard’s shoulders as Dick’s fingers started kneading the flesh.

Richard shuddered in response. “How are you doing that?”

Dick huffed that same chuckle again. “Been taking a few classes on the side. Figured if I’ve got the bod for it, might as well learn how to use it and take care of it, right?”

Richard moaned. “Massage therapy?”

“Yup. Clients are butter in my hands.”

“I ... I really shouldn’t.”

“Relax, bro. You earned it.”

Richard’s eyes rolled as his muscles went limp. He didn’t even notice the computer chime. He smiled as he came out of the treatment to behold a snarl of anger that practically jerked him from his chair before a hand forced him back down. And then he heard it:

You are not dumb ... Work your brain ... Brawn to brain ... Nerdy Dick ... You are not a jock ... Not a dick ... Wake up ... Go back ... Go back....

Richard swallowed as the deep bass reverberated, until a heavy finger clicked forcefully on the mouse to pause the track.

“I trusted you,” Dick said in a husky voice.

“This isn’t the real you, Dick,” Richard objected.

“And whose fault was that, I wonder?” Dick roared. The wood on the desk creaked under the force of his fingers as they clenched the edge. “I gave up my friends, my major, my life for this. And just when I’m finally settling down, when I’m enjoying myself more than ever, when I’m happier than I’ve ever been, built a new life with new friends, you go and decide you can play god and tear it all down again?”

“It’s not real,” Richard said weakly.

“It is to me!” The desk leg creaked ominously under Dick’s heavy blow. “You think getting my head shaved was a dream? You think Duke isn’t real, that Travis is some kinda mirage, that Coach Sorensen didn’t offer me a place on the team? I fucking brought them to the apartment, introduced them to the guys, went out and got fucking drunk with them! Those happened. Those are real. My time in the gym was real!” He flexed his bicep and smacked the dense mound that had risen out of veiny flesh. “And this,” he said as he struck it again for emphasis, “is real.”

Richard shrank into his chair as best he could.

“You said I would have the power. You said that I would get to choose. You promised.” He jabbed his finger into Richard’s chest. “Well, I decided, bro.”

“Dick.” Richard’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Please.”

“Nah, bro. I’m in charge now. You’re done.”

Richard panted in the still air. Something was pushing against his chest. It felt so tight. “N-no,” he rasped. His voice cracked.

Dick shook his head. “Say it with me, little bro. ‘Nah, bro.’”

“N-nnnnnnnahhhh....”

Richard clenched his teeth. The room spun. His shoulders felt cold. Something brushed his scalp.

“You’re just a big Dick,” the deep bass said in a cocky tone of smug superiority.

The retort rose hotly in his chest, before he had time to stop it. It blew out from his diaphragm with the force of a conflagration, but it flowed smoothly, naturally from his lips, as if he’d been saying it for years. “Nah, bro.”

A vapid grin pulled at his lips as he opened his eyes. The small chair creaked under its owner’s bulk. That dull, familiar ache coursed like a drug through his arms, chest, and sides. Today was upper body training, and it had felt so good. He took a shuddering breath and moaned at the feeling of fabric brushing up a perfect set of well-carved abdominals. The tight hug of his black tank top complemented the familiar brush of rough fabric from his snapback. Thick arms as broad if not larger than footballs rested lightly on the wooden desk. He took his time to admire the masculine appendages, the huge mitts that his hands had become, the prominence of his veins against the muscle he’d worked so long and hard to grow beneath.

“I’m me.” He laughed exultantly. “I’m fucking me!” He whooped as if he’d just seen the school team score the winning touchdown. “I’m big fucking Dick!” He pumped his arm and danced in the chair. Then the computer monitor caught his eye. The program was still open. He reached for the lid and rested his massive palm on the now-familiar indent where he had laid it so many times before during his transformation. He loved sports. He loved weights. And he loved dominance. And now he’d just come off the ultimate domination by asserting himself against his old personality. He could leave it at that, delete the file, close the program, never think of it again.

“Or....” A smirk pulled at his lips as he looked over the laptop’s files. He still had the old copies of the recordings from his metamorphosis. It wouldn’t be that hard to record over the pieces that needed changing, and the walls were thin. He should be able to mix a few tracks. After all, even jocks and meatheads had fun with programs like garage band. The smirk turned into a sneer as he pulled out the mic and finished recording the beginnings of a new track. “Wuddup, Bro? Welcome to Jock School, where meatheads rule and bein’ a jock is fuckin’ cool. Huhuhuhuh....”

WHEN WILL PEOPLE FUCKING REALIZE THAT

MEN

ALSO

ARE

GIVEN

UNREALISTIC

EXPECTATIONS

DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA

HOW IMPOSSIBLE IT IS

TO LOOK LIKE THIS???

IT’S 100% FUCKING ILLOGICAL TO EXPECT MEN TO HAVE THIS RIPPED SIX-PACK ABS AND BE SKINNY AND HAVE PERFECT SKIN AND FACIAL COMPLEXION!  MEN ALSO EXPERIENCE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE WITH OUR BODIES ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME.

This story is a call back to an old series I never completed and need to continue, and since I haven’t done anything military in ages, and I promised a proper military story to @armybrute​ for the help he gave me. I hope that this will suffice as a good and proper story while I ponder how to move forward with Military Daze again.

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Ten Hut

“You’ve been doing such an excellent job.” You hear the voice echoing in your ear. You’ve heard it for so long now. Even when you’re not in class, it follows you. All you have to do is look into the mirror to see how much you’ve changed. Your sweat pants cling to your trim waist, while your swollen muscles press so prominently against your shirt. Army green. It’s almost as though the two were one. “Well done, Private.”

Your parents couldn’t afford to send you to the prestigious academy, but the United Armed Forces Military Academy (UAFMA) was willing to offer you a place in their new Remote Officer program. The school website had a digital library with all the materials you would need to study in order to graduate with honors. They even had audio files to listen to on the GO ARMY.

“Thank you, Sir,” you reply. CO’s voice was kinda scary at first, but once you got used to it, really accepted the fact he was your Commanding Officer, things got easier. You weren’t a troublemaker, and he knew you weren’t a troublemaker. He knew you were there to learn, to listen, to excel.

And boy did you excel.

Hours passed in front of that computer screen like minutes. Tactics, mathematics, history, science, English. Your CO was with you every step of the way. His voice. His smile. That flat buzz cut. It was deep, soft. But it rang with authority, an authority he wasn’t afraid to use if you messed up.

Your parents expressed concern over the fitness portions of your credit. Naturally, this was a military academy. They weren’t about to overlook that necessity.

Drop and give me twenty, maggot!

You could barely manage one the first time. You weren’t sure why you kept trying. Maybe you feared expulsion. Maybe you were tired. Or maybe it was something about his voice. You just had to do what he told you.

And boy was he brutal.

Any time you showed a lack of effort or improvement, he’d be on you. You learned how to explain yourself quickly and effectively. You had to. Otherwise, he’d order you to do more exercises. Debates were encouraged when appropriate. You’d just be checking,

One, two.

One, two.

CO would respond. Back and forth, back and forth.

Got kinda hard to focus sometimes, though. especially when you talked about the pros and cons of various fitness styles. Strength training, cardio, aerobics, anaerobics, diets, supplements, all that stuff for getting buff.

And damn did it feel good to be buff.

You usually lost those debates.

Actually, you hardly even ... remember ... those....

...

What were you thinking about again?

Radio ops was some of the most fun you had in the courses. Analyzing sound waves, crossing signals, identifying codes. Nothing advanced, but it was something ... stimulating. Defending your methods when they were challenged helped to sharpen your tongue, but you didn’t really have the balls to go against your CO for a while. Not till your body really started growing, anyway.

And people noticed.

Old school bullies tried to intimidate you, but they were nothing compared to your CO. Took a good beating for that little adventure when you told them as much. That was when your curriculum changed. Nobody beats up a member of UAFMA and gets away with it.

CO had you in the gym every day. You’d lift weights, jog, squat, do burpies, whatever he wanted. And the whole while, you’d be following along. Sir, yes, Sir. Three square meals a day. Four upstart teens to teach respect. Five sets in every exercise.

Tic toc. Tic toc.

It became easier and easier to keep up the pace. 

Order and discipline became your creed. Follow the program, get the results. It’s that simple. Always is in life. Constant study made finding answers simple. You retained the pertinent tactical data. You hadn’t used your X-bo in months. You had a schedule to keep, after all. You had to build, had to defend the honor of your school.

Honor. Integrity.

Service. Duty.

Obedience. Sacrifice.

Stick to the mission. Stick to the mission.

And you had.Your six-pack was harder than steel, your biceps sculpted pistons, your chest a mighty bellows, your shoulders broader than mountains.

Combat training came at the dojo. CO would arrive personally to ensure you knew how to handle yourself. And you followed his commands to the letter.

“Ours is not to reason why....”

You straightened your shoulders in response and snapped to attention. “Ours is just to do and die.”

You do. You do. You do.

You do your exercises. You do the work. You do the planning. You do the learning. You do the following. You do the obeying.

Don’t blink. Don’t think.

Do.

Do.

DO AS YOU’RE TOLD.

“Yes, Sir,” you say in your deep, deep voice. Deep, like your CO. Deeper and deeper every day. That’s what he’d said. And it happened. Because a good soldier obeys. A good soldier does as he’s told.

Seventy times seven, the bible says. Your study in numerology taught you that was meant to mean perfection. And you had to be perfect for this op. Seven times, you practiced. Seven hundred. Seven thousand.

Study. Train. Prepare. Repeat.

Eight months you worked. Eight months you slaved. Eight months, you grew into the stud you see before you now. You’re fit for service. Fit to dispense a little justice, and a little lesson in discipline.

“Are you ready, Private?” Your CO is asking you a question, and you feel the growl rising in your throat.

“Sir, yes, Sir.”

The buds are already cupped in one hand, the players in your pocket. All you need is the command.

“Report for the op.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The squad was professional and focused. Your fellow cadets fell in line for debriefing, which you presented flawlessly. There was no room for weakness or fear in the academy. Courage would win that battle time and again.

The fight had been a short one, in a secluded corner of town where there wouldn’t be any witnesses and no cameras to record the incident.

Nine squad members marched onto the lot. Eight cut off the exits. Seven seconds passed to get the offenders’ attention. Six more to explain the retribution to come. Five combatants stood off against each other. Four juvenile delinquents were easily defeated. Three were tied up and plugged into the players. Two leaders faced off, until one was restrained.

You watched with a cold satisfaction as the manic light fled from their gazes. Their shoulders relaxed. Their breathing deepened and steadied. Finally, they slumped forward with gaping mouths and hooded lids. A curt order had them released them from their bonds. You smiled briefly as you looked to your men and they to you. These boys were in for a rude awakening, and you were going to give them hell as their CO. You braced yourself, took a deep breath, puffed up your chest, then roared at the top of your lungs.

“TEN HUT!”

Twelve fell into line as your CO drove up in the unmarked van. You salute him and grin. A massive hand claps you on the shoulder.

“Good job, Soldier.”

The pleasure and pride were overwhelming as you straightened and clacked your heels together. “Sir, thank you, Sir!”

He chuckled, then looked at the former bullies with a wicked sneer. “Let’s get these recruits oriented. You’re about to get some new classmates.”