Mind Conrol - Tumblr Posts

To See The Light

“Hey, man,” Chris greeted you with a massive grin as he opened the door. “Come on in! Sorry I missed D&D the other night, but my old man and I were doing some real father-son bonding stuff, you know? S’the first time in ages we’ve actually had fun together.”

You were rendered speechless for a time as you gaped at the sleeveless muscle tee that draped over your friend’s form. His light brown hair jutted out beneath the bill of his snapback. A healthy tan had replaced the paler skin you recalled him bearing just a little over a month ago. Your eyes traced over the curves and definition he’d developed in his arms and chest.

“You okay, bro?”

You blink at the question. “Sorry, what?”

“You were kinda zoning out.”

“Sorry. It’s just ... you look ... different. Have you been working out?”

Chris let out a deep throaty chuckle. “Every day, bro. Dad and I have been going to the gym nonstop. Sure, I had trouble at first, but look at me now, man. I’m jacked!” He grinned again as he flexed a bicep to emphasize his point. “C’mon. I got everything ready for tonight. This party’s gonna be sweet!”

“You got the table set?”

“Table, drinks, snacks, the works. Today’s my cheat day anyway, so Dad won’t mind if I break my diet a little. He even got these new spot lights, so you guys can really see everything.”

“So he’s cool with you hosting tonight’s campaign?”

“It’s fine, bro. He said the more the merrier. Bros gotta hang out sometimes, am I right?”

“Uh ... yeah,” you said uncertainly as you followed him into the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement. Since when had he started talking like some sort of ignoramus? Seriously, he sounded more like some sort of meathead than he did the boy you remember having so much fun with talking video games and RPG elements. Sure, he’d always wanted to be big and buff, but you never thought he’d push himself this far. “Are you sure things are okay?” you finally managed to ask somewhat timidly.

“Better than okay,” he assured you.”Things are fucking fantastic!” His heavy steps thumped along the stairs as he raced down to the basement floor. “Dad and I used to argue a lot, but now it’s just ... better. We’re finally seeing eye to eye on things.”

The heavy clank of metal striking metal and the thump of heavy music echoed numbly through a door in the far end of the basement.

“And you dad won’t try to interrupt or anything?” You wince. “I know he doesn’t really like us that much.”

“He doesn’t like D&D, bro. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you guys. He just wants to make sure we’re all active, like boys our age should be.” He reached down and scratched at his crotch. “Gotta say, once I started, I kinda got hooked. It’s hard to stay still anymore. My body just keeps wanting to move, you know what I mean?”

“Not really, but I’ll take your word for it,” you say noncommittally as you look over the room. A deep-seated sense of foreboding had taken residence in your chest. That drastic of a chance to take place in just a month seems ... well, practically impossible. And the change in Chris’ manner and speech patterns was also highly suspicious, yet there was no sign of foul play that you could see just yet.

True to his word, a large table had been set up in the middle of a stretch of basement. The dungeon master’s divider had already been set up, and a dish filled with various bags filled with sets of dice had been prepared for each of the players, should they have forgotten their own. Another table had been set up at the edge, laden down with chips, dip, punch, soda, and other hors d’oeuvres.

Chris strode past all those to the window, where he closed the blinds and reached over to a nearby switch. Brilliant white light flooded out from two cylindrical sockets, bathing Chris in their light and causing his skin to glow as he raised a bicep and grinned.

“See? Gives a pretty damn good view, don’t it?” He chuckled and flexed. “Mmm ... what a pump.”

“Chris?”

A low blush flooded your friend’s cheeks as he turned his head to face you. “Dad and I like to spend time here after a good workout,” he admitted. “We ... sort of have a pose-off. I know, it’s kinda stupid, but ... I don’t know, it just feels good to do it, you know?”

“Not really,” you admit as you look down at your somewhat pudgier frame. “Don’t exactly have the figure for it.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, bro,” Chris chastened.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m not. You remember how Travis used to treat me till we got together in class.”

Chris scowled. His jaw became set as his traps flared and his shoulders tightened with his clenched fists. “He’s not picking on you again, is he?”

“No, no. We’re good for now. It’s just ... well, look at me. Fitness and I are like oil and water. We just don’t get along.”

Chris was silent for a few moments as he stared at you. Then he nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Come here.”

You approach slowly. “Um, why?”

“Just come on. I’m not gonna bite, you know.” Chris rolled his eyes in exasperation.

You couldn’t help but smile. That was the Chris you remembered. “All right,” you finally relent as you step over next to him.

“Now close your eyes.”

“Chris....”

“Close your eyes, man. We’re gonna have a little role play of our own, just you and me.”

Now you’re blushing as he seizes you and you feel a sudden warmth on your face. The light shines through your lids, and you know you’re standing under the two spotlights.

“Now we’re gonna imagine you’re not yourself, got it? Forget about Travis. Forget about what’s happened before. We’re putting you in the shoes of a big hulking barbarian. You know the type. Warrior class, lots of strength, plenty of charisma and constitution. A real brute of a man.”

“Chris, this is--.”

“I said to focus on your character.” His hand slaps firmly on your shoulder, while the other seizes your left wrist. “Picture it, man. Picture those broad shoulders, those wide lats, massive pectorals, a rippling six pack, and thick, powerful biceps. Imagine those muscles straining, bunching, tensing. They want to move. They want to be used. And as a warrior, they’re the first answer to everything. Because the warrior is just that, hired muscle.” He pulls your arm into position and pulls your wrist back slightly to force your arm to bend and tense.

“Chris, I don’t think--.”

“You’re right. You don’t. As a muscular barbarian, your task is to simply be the muscle. Now, you’ve been challenged to a pose-off. Some tiny man is challenging your masculinity. Such an insult cannot stand. You lash out. You punch.”

He forces your arm forward in a harsh jab and quickly pulls it back.

“He dodges. You raise your arms in a guard.”

Suddenly, you feel his arms pressing yours against one another in front of your chest. His bigger frame is against yours, and you feel incredibly uncomfortable, and ... just a little hot.

“You take a blow, then duck and strike. Your blow connects, due to your experience with brawling. Next, you give him a solid kick.”

His foot forces you to push your own out as he supports you.

“Chris...”

“Exultation floods you as your heart rate picks up. You have laid your foe low to the ground. You have defended your honor, and an intimidating scowl leads the cur to fleeing with his tail between his legs. You know what comes next, bro.”

You blush. “A victory crow,” you mumble.

“Exactly.” You feel your hands thump heavily against your chest, almost knocking the wind out of you with Chris’ machinations. “You flex your muscles to an adoring crowd of maidens and jealous men who wish to have had your courage, after routing the lout.

“Chris, I--.”

“Come on, bro. Just one little flex. Just one. You don’t want to disappoint all those adoring fans, do you?”

You sigh. “You’re not going to let me go until I do, are you?”

You could practically hear his grin. “Nope.”

You have a reluctant sigh. “Fine.” You raise your arms and proceed to tense your upper body. It was a paltry attempt, but enough to show you were trying. “There. Are we done now?”

“Not quite. Let me show you how it’s done. Gotta have the proper form.” He moved you around like a man would a doll, and you had to put up with it, because he was stronger. With every pose, he would praise you. With each new direction, he would twist you around to make sure the light highlighted the “best side.” It gets sort of monotonous after a while, so you just let him do what he wants. You’re not sure how much time has passed, when you suddenly notice the bottle cap waving in front of your face.

“Hey, kid. Drink up. You’re gonna drop from exhaustion at this rate.”

You blink slowly. “Uh ... wuh...?” Something feels ... different somehow.

“Water. Drink,” the big man said as he made exaggerated motions, then sneered.

“Dad!” Chris laughed. “Knock it off!” He punched the behemoth of a man lightly. 

You blinked owlishly at your friend. How long had it been? Your mouth felt so dry. You reach to the bottle and take a heavy swig of its contents. Seat has drenched your frame, and your clothes have ridden up against you. You notice a set of adjustable dumbbells laying on the table next to the D&D dice.

“What ... just happened?” you ask. Your head feels stuffed with cotton. Your voice ... is sort of dull, lower, like when you’re congested with a cold.

“You got a little too into character,” Chris said with a smirk. He popped a flex under the lights and you swear his shirt looked tighter than it had before. You gape in amazement when you see your free arm has followed his in almost perfect unison. A ridge had begun to rise out from the fat that had accumulated there. “I ... I have a bicep,” you finally manage to say.

“Everyone’s got a bicep, kid. Drink up,” Chris’ father instructed. You suddenly feel the bottle shoved to your lips. Cool water rushes down your throat and coats your tongue. You drink greedily and crush the bottle in your grip. It feels good to do that.

“‘Atta boy,” the man cheered. “You enjoy your little posing session?”

“Uh....” you respond, at a loss for words.

A heavy hand smacks you on the back. “Of course you did. Come on. Let me show you a few tricks. I’ve got the time, and your party won’t be starting for a while yet.” He smiled and guided you to the open door frame. The music pumped. More spotlights beamed overhead with their glare, flashing like cameras off the polished metal surfaces of the gym equipment. You hardly even noticed the sound of the door closing behind you as he planted you down and started running you through some basic exercises with a set of dumbbells.

“See, boy? It’s nice and simple. Your body knows what to do. You just have to let it move.”

You do. And a dull chuckle pushes its way out your mouth as you fall into that simple pattern. You watch a television screen in front of you showing a transition video and you smile as you watch the person pump in time to the beat. You watch the muscles inflate. And you chuckle as a tan slowly creeps over his pale skin. A high and tight cut replaces the old bowl cut from before. The jaw becomes more chiseled and defined. A low, “Fuck yeah...” echoes and reverberates in the room as you stare with glazed eyes at the screen and the changing teen staring back at you.

Chris’ father sneered as he watched you continue to work, heedless of the changes taking place in your own body, despite the mirror he’d planted you in front of. He chuckled as he watched a series of security monitors mounted next to a control panel. Chris was already lumbering to the front door, where another boy waiting to be educated on the joys of fitness stood.

“One down, four to go,” he purred.

“Fuck yeah, bro,” you low absently, completely unaware what you’re praising in the rush of endorphins and the sheer mindless ecstasy of the repetition. All that mattered was the work and the lights warming your skin as you shredded your muscles to get swoll.

The muscle man chuckled as he watched second guest gradually became enamored by the fixture. It was so good to help them see the light.

Book Worm

“I know that look. You’ve been working out more lately, haven’t you, Travis?”

“Uh ... yeah, but that’s healthy. You saying there’s something wrong with me?”

“You’ve been sitting there, staring into space for the last twenty minutes, Travis, and your pecs are bouncing.”

Travis blushed as the muscles stopped popping. His waxed hair lay combed back in an easy style that highlighted his more masculine features, including the tighter edges of his jawline. Once blue eyes had taken on a grayer cast, and veins snaked their way down his forearms and hands. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Well, it’s not like you’re breaking any rules, but I thought you ought to know.” The librarian sighed. “I’ve seen cases like yours before, unfortunately, and I’ve learned to read the signs. I thought I’d had the library sprayed.”

“Sprayed?” Travis asked, confused as his voice pitched a little deeper.

“Yes, sprayed. We librarians hold a high standard for our books and a great regard for our patrons. I assume you’ve heard the colloquialism referring to a sudden interest in building one’s body up that is known as the muscle bug, correct?”

Travis nodded. “Yeah. Who hasn’t?”

“To be perfectly frank, it’s not a bug. It’s a worm.”

“A ... what now?” Travis gaped disbelievingly at the librarian.

“You heard me. Book worms are an exceptionally dangerous breed of parasite. They multiply at an astonishing rate. Think about ring worm. Now, instead of a large red circle on your body that itches and shows, think of a long slim creature that swims through your bloodstream and forces your veins to expand. They feed on brain cells and secrete a substance many have jokingly come to call Jock Juice. It deliberately stimulates the pituitary gland to mutate and swell, so your body produces an overabundance of testosterone and other hormones. These provide the ideal conditions for the creatures to reproduce.

“Of course, they know better than to simply kill off their hosts. They’re a symbiotic creature. They eat enough cells to reduce your IQ, while still keeping you functional. They return the favor by the stimulation I mentioned earlier. Old synapses and connections are quickly broken down and the stimulation forces new ones to be forged exceptionally quickly. The ones pertaining to motion, to activity. Whether it be walking, jogging, lifting weights, or some other form of physical activity, your brain is gradually reprogrammed to make that your focus, your very life. I’m afraid there’s no cure, but it’s extremely vital that you don’t allow any bodily fluids to have contact with others. Promise me, Travis. Travis, are you even listening to me?”

Travis blinked slowly. “Huh? Oh, uh, sorry. What were you saying?”

The librarian sighed. “Just go, Travis. You’re not going to get much done here.”

Travis looked down at the book, then back at the librarian. For a few moments, he looked torn, conflicted. Then more color drained from his eyes. His shoulders slumped. “Yeah ... I’ve gotta go....” The book clattered uselessly to the floor as Travis made his way out from the library. The librarian grabbed a set of gloves and picked up the book gingerly, then put it into a special sealed metal container.

“That poor boy...”

Travis scratched his crotch as he leaned back in the school’s benches by the garden. Twin earbuds snaked down from his ears, and his gray eyes stared unseeingly at the passersby. A tight sleeveless muscle tee clung to his vascular frame as he laid back and let the sheen of sweat cool to evaporate. His hair had been cut into a high and tight parody of his original style. He let out a deep husky guffaw as he reveled in his size and bounced his pecs to show off to the passing ladies. When he’d had his fill of showing off, he rose to his feet to run back to his dorm again and shower.

He crashed into another runner along the way and knocked him over. “Sorry, lil’bro. Won’t happen again,” he promised as he reached down to help the kid up. 

The freshman grimaced distastefully and strode purposefully away from the musclehead.

Travis didn’t recognize the expression, and smiled broadly at the kid’s back as he noted a distinct change in the young man’s gait. Then he chuckled deeply to himself. “See you at the gym, lil’bro.”