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Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 31

You grunt heavily as you plant yourself down on the reinforced metal stool. The cool granite counter top soothes the burning in your forearms as you slot in next to two more of the gym’s regulars. The music throbs in your ear canals through your earbuds with that dull droning in the background. The barman approaches and grunts as he runs a drying cloth over a massive cup. “What’ll it be?” “Post workout,” you return. “Biggest size you’ve got.” The man nodded. “One muscleman special coming up.” You shudder and grunt as he turns to the blender, enjoying the high that surges through your system. Looking to either side of you, you notice the whole bar is full of regulars. Each of them sits mulling over a massive container of protein shake. Earbuds snake down their ears as they sip and stare intermittently. The loud whirr of the blender makes it impossible to talk, but for some reason, you know that even if they could, they probably wouldn’t want to. These guys were hard core body builders, after all. You were just a prissy model who came in for a gig. You casually tense your bicep as you watch it inflate. “Not so prissy now,” you mutter. The mug smacks down in front of you, and you look up in some surprise. Had the time passed that quickly? “Good hustle on the floor today,” the barkeep complimented. “You deserve this.” “Thanks,” you say. The keep shrugged. “Just tellin’ the truth.” You furrow your brow in confusion. “Do I ... know you from somewhere?” “I’m here every day, dumbass,” he deadpanned. You chuckled as that pleasurable fog rolled in. Dumbass. So funny. “Huhuhuh ... yeah. Sorry, man.” Then you frown again. “But seriously, haven’t I seen you ... you know, somewhere else?” He turned quickly away from you as he worked a cap off one of the many jars of powders the bar provided for its unique blends. You watched his shoulders tense and relase as he hunched forward, then returned to his full height, and suddenly it clicked. “Yeah ... weren’t you on the team that helped remodel my--?” “You really should be drinking your protein shake, muscleman.” And suddenly your body went rigid. Your eyes fell on the shake. Your mouth watered. “I ... I should....” “Drink your protein shake, muscleman.” Your hand trembles as you reach for the tall container. “You are what you eat. Drink the muscleman, become the muscleman, muscleman. You should drink the shake.” You blink your eyes slowly. Your head feels full of cotton. “Drink ... the shake?” You feel the cold from the cup seeping into your hand as the droplets tingle on your skin. It’s sweating, just like you’re sweating. And for some reason, that makes you smile. It’s good to sweat, after all. “Don’t think, muscleman. Just drink. That is what you are here for. You should drink your shake.” “It’s good to drink,” a gruff voice sounds to your right. “I drink the muscleman to be a muscleman,” the hulk on your left says. “Musclemen drink their shakes,” the counter says in unison. You smell the sweet scent as the cold beverage hovers under your nose. Your hot breath fogs the plastic on the cup. As one body, the men hold their cups to their lips as their eyes rest on you. “They’re waiting, muscleman. Drink,” the barkeep says. “I should drink my shake....” The words are out of your mouth before your addled head can even wonder. And then you feel that familiar, exultant sensation of thick, cold liquid flowing over your tongue, consuming your taste buds, flooding the roof of your mouth. And you feel your neck throbbing, bobbing, with every swallow. Up and down. Up and down. Your eyes look to either side. Thick legs are spread at a perfect symmetrical angle. Backs are straight. And Adam’s apples are bouncing with every loud gulp. Up and down. Up and down. Musclemen drink their shakes. Up and down. Up and down. Together..... Your crotch tightens with each gulp and you sigh, then belch in perfect time with the others as you all lower your cups to the counter top. Everything feels so ... muted, calm, empty. A massive hand claps you on the back. “Welcome to the club, muscleman.” Your response is immediate. “I am a muscleman. I grow my muscles.” The man looks at you calmly. “We lift things up and put them down.” You shudder in pleasure at the phrase as the pair of you clasp hands and he nods approvingly. “I look forward to seeing you on the circuit.” “When I am ready,” you respond. “Until then, muscleman.” He nods to you, and you nod dazedly in return as a smile crosses your face. “Until then,” you say. Then you turn back to the barkeep, who’s busy clearing away the empty cups. “So, what was it you wanted to ask me again?” he said. “Huh?” “That question. You wanted to ask me something.” It takes a moment for you to process that. “Did I?” The barkeep rolled his eyes, but smiled, despite himself. “Nevermind, dumbass.” You chuckle and pop a double bicep flex. “What can I say? I put it all in here.” “You’re a real meathead, aren’t you?” You take a few minutes this time as you tap your chin, flex a few muscles, bounce your pecs shamelessly against your tight tank top. “Yeah, ... I suppose I am.” You grin. “Just a big, dumbass meathead.” And every part of you sang at the phrase.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 36

You lumber through your apartment door with a dopey grin on your face. It feels so good to be back. The two weeks were such a blur, but it was a happy blur. And if you were happy, then there was no need to question it. Leave the money and stuff to Harry to manage. You drop your suitcases easily by the door and stomp your way to the kitchen for your protein shake and a healthy meal. You crash down into the reinforced steel chair by your new dining table and start forking your typical lunch of brown rice and chicken, while the siren call of the blender roars through your ears. Musclemen drink their shakes, and yours would be ready soon. It didn’t take long to finish. You rise about halfway through your meal, when the motor finally dies. You don’t even wait to start chugging the drink, and make your way to your chair to resume your meal. After all, muscle machines need fuel to run, to produce more muscle. You pull out your phone and check for messages, noticing some new voicemails. You stick it on speaker and continue to eat as you cue up the first. “Hey, lil’bro. Duff here. Just wanted to be the first one to welcome ya back. Been pumping at the gym a lot, since you left. The guys all miss you. Been wondering where you’ve been at. Think I had to remind a few of them a good three or four times, before they finally got it.” Duff’s dimwitted chuckle reverberated through your ears, and you couldn’t help but join in. What a bunch of dumbasses. “I’ve been making some gains of my own, since you left. Hank’s been helpin’ me out again, pumping my brain with anatomy as much as he does with lead, so I can pass my classes. Let’s hook up again at the gym for old times’ sake. Then we can hit up that restaurant for some teriyaki. My treat. Anyways, gotta go, bro. Those weights are calling my name.” He laughed a deep, husky bark of a laugh, then spoke again. “See you soon, lil’bro.” A big grin crosses your face as you think back to all those late night gym sessions with your best bro. Duff really was a great training partner. The guy would go pretty far, once he got his training certification and graduated. Then he could help build other muscle machines. You casually shovel another bite of your meal and chew as you access the second voicemail. “Kid, it’s Hank. You’d better not have slacked off during those two weeks. I’ll whoop your ass, if you did,” he growled. You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Good old Hank, always looking out for you. “No, Sir,” you mutter absently, after swallowing your food. “Anyway, the gym’s waiting for you. So am I. Don’t flake out on me. You know what’ll happen, if you do.”  Like you’d ever do that to him. You can’t help but smile at the concern you know is hidden under that gruff bravado. The man was harsh, but after all that time under his tutelage, you’d come to understand that elusive language all musclemen seem to share on a subtler level. Every word, every action held a hidden meaning. With those few short sentences, the man had communicated an ocean of questions and concerns ranging from diet to health and dedication to maintaining ties. “I missed you, too, Hank,” you say as you smile at your phone. Of course, neither of you would say that to your faces. Musclemen don’t do mushy. They banter. They bluster. Their muscles do the talking and the thinking. Every word said and not said is registered and interpreted in that secret language that’s becoming more and more natural to you with each passing day. You pop a double bicep pose and flex, grinning in that way that says, ‘I am healthy. I am happy. I am ready to return to work.’ “I want you here bright and early tomorrow morning. No excuses, understand?” You chuckle to yourself. Why put off for tomorrow the workout that can be done today? Besides, you’d like to see that stony face surprised for once, and what better way than to come unexpected? “I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.” The message clicked shut and your smile widened. You can’t wait to throw him off his game, just once. The third message had Harry’s familiar voice blaring out the speakers. “Kid, that last shoot was incredible! The camera loves you, and so did the photographers. They said you were one of their best models, bar none! I’ve got some paperwork I’ll need you to sign a little later for some last transactions and a few formalities involving finances. I’ll drop by the gym, and we can take care of it during your rest period. I’m telling you, big things are coming, kid. BIG!” You chuckle as you lift up your bicep and flex one more time, watching the muscle strain and pop against your skin. “Yes, they are, Harry,” you agree. “Yes, they are....”

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 37

You smile as you arrive at the gym. The sun is setting, painting the stone along the building’s outside a fiery orange, and that only makes you feel more fired up for the reunion and workout to come. You open the glass door, gym bag in hand, heedless of the fact the sign has been flicked to closed and the illuminated one turned off. It’s not your first time arriving close to closing. You smile as the familiar clank of the weight machines in full swing rings through your ears. Hank must’ve decided to get in a little pump of his own, after shutting things up for the night. After all, people knew better than to try to break into a gym frequented by bodybuilders and run by one of the greatest personal trainers the circuit has ever seen. You make your way easily to your usual locker and quickly pull out your combination lock. After you grab what you need from the bag, you stow it in the locker and click the lock shut. You drape your hand towel over your shoulder and start to guzzle your protein shake you prepped before coming down. You already feel the familiar tension in your muscles as the surge of your heartbeat rages in your ears. That same dimwitted smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you passed through the locker room door and back into the entry point. You flip the cap shut on your mixing cup and strike into that double bicep pose you’ve been practicing as you let that smile pull into a confident grin and step onto the main floor. “Yo, Hank, I’m--.” Hank wasn’t on the floor, but the gym was packed with some of the most chiseled and buff men you’ve ever laid eyes on. Barbells bent with the sheer weight some of these men were repping with as rippling muscles strained against their singlets. “--back,” you finished lamely. Nobody responded. Nobody stopped. You strode into the fray, watching as the builders and lifters pushed in eerie silence. No cursing, no growling, no roars of rage or triumph. You felt almost like a ghost as you passed through their ranks. Those who weren’t at the machines stood in a perfect line in front of the floor-length mirrors. Their bronze skins shone slickly under the lights, whether from sweat or those oils you’d heard Duff gushing about, you weren’t sure, but the sheer synchronization of their movements was incredible. They switched as one man, fluidly, from pose to pose. It was almost like a dance, pure poetry in motion. You couldn’t help but give a sympathetic flex of your own at the sight. This. This was the ideal. This was what you were training to become. Perfect strength. Perfect symmetry. Poetry in motion. Over at the drink bar, a familiar flash of red drew your attention. Stocky builders would walk to the counter and grab the cups lying in wait along the counter’s surface. You approached and smiled at the familiar face of your lifting buddy. “Yo, Duff. What’s up?” Duff continued about his business as if he hadn’t heard you. He mixed the powders with the proper fluids, then closed the lids and started the blenders, before turning back to you again. When he noticed you hadn’t moved, he strode over, picked up a cup, and shoved it at your chest. “Please drink and return to your workout,” he said in a peremptory tone, not unlike those robo recordings you used to have to deal with when you had to call about your banking and stuff. Man, were you glad you didn’t have to worry so much about those things anymore. “Duff? Big bro? Anybody home?” you asked as you waved a hand in front of his face. He didn’t have the chance to respond as a group of the hulking giants came over and shoved you aside to drink lustily from the cups. Once again, Duff sounded the refrain. “Please drink and return to your workout.” When the drinks were finished, they slammed the cups down on the countertop and rose from their chairs. “We have finished our drinks,” their voices echoed in unison. “We are returning to our workouts.” And that was it. Duff took the dirty cups to the wash station and cleaned them up, without saying a word, while the men returned to the main floor. Then he dried and refilled the cups to place on the counter top again. “Uh ... okay, then. Guess I’ll catch you later,” you say lamely as you lumber away from the bar. This wasn’t exactly the welcome back you were expecting. Practically all the weights and equipment are being hogged by the titans, and there’s still no sign of Hank in sight, so there’s nothing you can do about it. You sigh and decide to poke around a bit. Maybe some of the equipment will get freed up in the meanwhile. It was worth a shot. You’d hate to waste the trip, especially after that letdown with Duff. You wander over to the door marked STAFF ONLY. Maybe Hank is back there. You test the door and find it unlocked, so you pass through into a long, broad hallway. A series of doors stand on either side, just waiting to be explored. A smile pulls at your lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be a wasted trip to the gym, after all. And if you did get into trouble, well, you were just looking for Hank, after all. Surely, he could forgive you for that. You pick a door at random and test the knob. Much to your pleasant surprise, it’s unlocked. The room inside is dark, so you flick a switch to get a better idea of what’s inside. A series of speakers have been mounted on all sides of the space, while a single large monitor sits atop a desk. A mounted camera in the corner stares sightlessly at the opposite side, clearly inactive. You shrug and withdraw, making your way to the next door. You continued your search, finding more of the same. After the tenth one of its kind, you were getting exceptionally bored. You decide to try one last door, before you turn back. The handle shifted as easily as the others had, but when you cracked the door, this time, you saw something different. The light was dim as you stepped through, save for the glow on the monitor highlighting the familiar face of your landlord. A sandy shirt clung tightly to his frame, highlighting the beginnings of a perk in his pectorals that you knew only too well from when you first started your journey of growth. His eyes were completely locked on the screen, his pupils wide as the light flickered over his face. A thick set of headphones had been mounted over his ears and as you drew nearer, you could just make out the familiar camouflage pattern of military style fatigues and the heavy duty boots that lay beneath them.  “Collin?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. You walk around behind him to see the rapidly flashing images of tanks, missiles, heavy duty weapons, marching soldiers, men saluting, ancient soldiers fighting in their armor, battle scenes, all superimposed over a flickering spiral and words that flit in and out along the screen at random points. Finally, he lets out a sigh, followed by a, “Sir, yes, Sir.” Since when had he gotten all gung-ho about the military? You get closer and pull one of the earphones off slightly, leaning in close to pick up on whatever is playing. “That is good. You’ve identified your commanding officer. And you will listen to your commanding officer at all times, won’t you, soldier?” “Sir, yes, Sir,” Collin said dully. You reel back from the headphone as it plops back into place. That voice. That was Harry’s voice. “What the hell...?” That was when the door came open and a heavily breathing Hank stared at you. “Hank, what’s going--?” “Sleep, muscleman,” he ordered. And suddenly, everything went dark.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 39

You never thought wearing your jock strap could ever feel so good, but after spending a good couple of days in the hospital in little more than a gown, it felt so right being reunited with one of your favorite undergarments. You pat the pouch fondly as you look down at how full it is. It actually feels almost snug now as it cradles your privates. The rest of your clothes were a little tricky with the bandaging and dizzy spells, but you managed, with a little help from a couple of nurses. Duff grinned at you from the receptionist’s desk. “Hey, lil’bro. What’s up?” You chuckle. “Oh, you know, the usual.” “Now, remember to keep resting for at least another week,” the receptionist said. “The doctor left those instructions specifically for you. Give that bruising enough time to heal, before you even think  about using those weights again.” “That’s gonna be a little hard,” Duff snarked. You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself. “Lifting’s about all we ever really think about.” You both grin at her cheekily. “We lift things up and put them down,” you recite together in perfect unison, then laugh again. The receptionist rolled her eyes, but held her tongue and proffered a clipboard your way. “Sign on the line below, and we’ll release you to your friend’s care.” You quickly sign, then you’re home free, walking to a large charcoal-gray van and the familiar towering shape of Hank. He smacks you on the back and smiles. “Welcome back, muscleman.” “Good to be back, Sir,” you say with a mock salute. “Smartass,” Hank said gruffly, even as he smirked. “No, Sir. I’m a total dumbass. Ask anybody in town,” you say with a smile. “Huhuhuh,” you chuckle. “All right, dumbass, let’s get you home, then.” You smile. “Sounds good.” “You and I are going to have to have a long talk, later,” Hank said as he pulled open the sliding door effortlessly. “There are some things I need to iron out with you.” “I thought iron was for lifting.” Hank stared silently at you for a few moments. “Was that a joke?” he finally asked. “No, Sir. It’s healthy for a muscleman like me to pump iron. I love to lift things up and put them down. It’s right for me to lift things up and put them down. I need to lift things up and put them down.” You know you’re repeating yourself, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It all feels so good to say. It takes a few moments, before you realize your arms are tensing as your pectorals pop back and forth. “Recovery first,” Hank insisted. “Then we’ll see about the lifting.” “But--.” “No buts,” Hank growled. “That’s an order.” You sigh dejectedly. “Yes, Sir.” “Now let’s get you settled in.” A few moments later, you’re sitting in the middle of the bench seat behind the driver and passenger’s chairs. Hank smiles into the rear view mirror as Duff slides into the front and clicks his seat belt home. “I’ve got a little treat for you, though, since you can’t lift right now. Call it a consolation prize,” Hank said. He pressed a few buttons and suddenly the vehicle reverberates with a familiar whirring as the speakers kick in. Your mind immediately slows as a big grin plasters itself all over your face. Then the screens mounted on the backs of the driver and front passenger seat both flicker on, revealing a pair of spirals and images flickering faster than your severely retarded thinking process can track. “Now just listen to the recording and watch the movie, muscleman. I made them especially for you.” “Yes, ... Sir....” you drone as you fade off into the nothingness again and revel in it. You grin, unable to help yourself as you murmur, “It’s good to obey.”

Ringing Out the old Ringing in the New

Augh. Where am I? “Jim, allow me to introduce Christopher Williams, one of our most successful beta testers to the program, by far. Christopher, why don’t you say hello?” “’Sup, bro?” Wait, did I just say that? “James, are you insane? This man is clearly engaged! We told you, no outside attachments!” “And there are none, if you would just let me explain. The ring is a symbol of being bound to one’s love, essentially making the connection to a particular entity more permanent, yes?” “Obviously.” “Good. Now watch. Christopher, could you tell me who your first love is?” “Uh, the gym? Is this like a trick question or something, Prof.?” The hell...? What am I doing here? Why am I sitting in front of these men? And ... why are my clothes feeling so tight? “And why are you wearing that ring?” “Guys and girls keep askin’ me out. It’s kinda annoying.” “And why is it annoying?” “’Cause I love the gym. Pumping reps, breaking goals, making gains. It feels so fuckin’ good.” Am I ...? Oh no. Please don’t ask me to stand up. Actually, please just pinch me or something. Wake me up! “Thank you, Christopher.” “Uh, Prof., can we just drop it to Chris?” Excuse me? “If that’s what you want.” “I do. Can I go back to the gym now? I was in the middle of a set, when you called me here.” Gym? What’s he ... I ... talking about? I only just started the program. “Not yet, Chris. Jim needs a demonstration of your progress.” Why am I smiling? “Wadaya need?” “Could you perhaps give us a bit of a show?” “Huhuhuh... Brought me to show off, huh? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” What’s happening? Am I...? HOLY CRAP! Is that me? What the hell? Well, I guess that explains the clamminess in my armpits, but ... whoa. I look like a freaking bodybuilder! I ... I can see my fucking pectorals! ... wait. Fucking? “Fuck, that feels good.” “As you can see, the subject takes immense pleasure in the current state of his body. Put him in front of a mirror and his sense of vanity will reinforce the positive effects of his changes.” “How do you like this, Prof.?” Holy--! My arms look like a soccer ball and a softball had babies! I’m-- “I’m ripped.” “Yes, Chris, you are.” Ohhhhh ... fuck, why does it feel so good to flex? “You’ve been ripping for a while now, haven’t you?” “Uhuh....” “Getting shredded.” “Yuh....” “Shredding and repairing, tearing and rearranging.” “Fuckin’ ace. Huhuhuh....” What’s huhuhappening? “What are you, Chris?” “A gym-obsessed musclehead, sir.” I’m a what now? “And what do you do?” “I flex and I grow. It feels so fuckin’ good to work out. I wanna be bigger.” “And nothing else?” “Uh ... what else is there?” Try reading a ... Um ... Okay, how about ...? Will you just--?! O-oh.... ohhhhh... do that again.... “Then you’ll keep going to the gym, even after this trial is complete?” “Uh, ... yeah. Why shouldn’t I?” Fitness is good, but ... Mmm ... what was I ...? I was saying ... Fitness is good. Yeah. And then ... uh ... uh ... Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......... “Fitness is good.” “That’s right, Chris. Fitness is good.” “The subject appears to have difficulty holding sophisticated discussion, James.” “Better that than dealing with being obese.” Fitness is good. Flexing is good. Muscle is good. So ... so fuckin’ good... Good to... I need to... Can’t... Must--! “Uh ... can I go back to the gym now? I need to work out.” “The drain in IQ is a bit much, isn’t it?” “I think he’ll do fine.” “Is there any way we can lessen it?” “Not at this time. That being said, he’s been the most diligent of all our subjects. Perhaps we simply need to reduce exposure.” Flex. Grow. Muscle. Flex. Pump. Flex. Lift. Lift. LIFT! “Chris, what are you doing?” “Gotta lift, Prof. Huhuh. And you make a perfect dumbbell. Huhuhuhuhuhuh...” Huhuhuhuhuhuh.... “... Perhaps I gave him a little too much love of the gym.” “No, you think?”

Risen from the foam

Body a day - #17: Foam

It had been a life-long struggle, always being the weakest, the skinniest.

I've always dreamt of having a strong body, but I just couldn't do it, I don't know what I did wrong, where all those my own age around seemed to naturally develop bigger and stronger physiques, I just stayed as this pathetic twig, that nobody paid attention to. I don't blame them though, why would they.

When I got older, I tried to go to the gym, and it improved somewhat. I got stronger and more enduring, but then I hit a plateau, progress stalled, for months and months I trained, but even after all this, I was still a scrawny teenager.

Who would believe I had gone faithfully to the gym for three years, and that was the result? I didn't want to admit it to anyone, but it bothered me - deeply. I was tired of being small and weak, tired of feeling insignificant and powerless.

I suppose it may make me sound superficial, and I suppose I am. I yearned to feel confident and powerful, but it seemed like a hopeless dream.

After a long break from the gym, it felt like it didn't matter if I went there or not, I decided to give it another go.

I also tried to see if some sort of product could enhance the results. Like protein bars, powder and shakes, most of it not looking too appetizing.

Then I came across a website, that sold a new 'muscle-stimulating bodyscrub'. I needed some new shower products anyway, so I decided to try it. At the time I thought that bodyscrub and shower gel was the same thing, I know now that it isn't. But it was a lucky accident.

Several days later it arrived by post, but when I unpacked it, I realised the mistake, it wasn't shower gel, but a bodyscrub, something I've never used in my life.

Though it was quite expensive, I didn't want to return it, and I thought, that I should probably just learn to use it, and just use it up.

I went to the store to buy some shower gel, then when I came home, I showered my scrawny body, then began to read the instructions on the bodyscrub bottle, it was a very promising description.

Muscle-stimulating bodyscrub.

Ingredients: Aqua, bla, bla, bla...

Uses:

For best results, it is recommended to eat a big protein-rich meal before application...

Apply to moist and clean skin, but not soaked...

Do not apply to face, head and genitalia...

Apply on body and rub it in till completely absorbed...

Only use moderate amounts on hands and feet, apply whilst wearing latex or nitrile gloves...

If in contact with eyes... bla, bla, bla... safety warnings, et cetera, et cetera...

I had eaten a good lunch with plenty of protein, not exactly a weightlifter's diet, but hopefully enough to live up to the recommendations.

Following the instructions I pulled on some disposable latex gloves, before eagerly pouring a handful of this intriguing substance into my palm.

A light aquamarine foam poured out of the container, I began to distribute it all over my body, especially the parts I really wanted to grow.

I rubbed it across my flat chest, my flat stomach, my twiggy arms and my bony shoulders and neck. Rubbing it out, it was slowly absorbed into my skin.

The remainder I applied to my thighs, legs and feet, following the instructions carefully.

I pulled off the gloves, just to get just a bit of the foam on my hands as I massaged the residual foam thoroughly into my skin. My skin began to turn red, itchy and warm.

It felt mostly like an allergic reaction, and I began to panic, had I done something wrong? It was like a rash, my blood was pumping, my heartbeat increasing, my body swelling.

The pain intensified, but then to my surprise and elation, I saw it was working. It was working! The swelling was just the beginning, I could hear my bones crack, and my skin and muscles creak as they expanded.

On my stomach I began to notice some nice abs developing, my arms were growing too, both biceps and triceps slowly inflating like balloons.

My chest developed a slight crease as two perfectly shaped pecs began to grow before my very eyes. My shoulders widened and the previously very visible bones were covered by smooth muscle mass.

Looking in the mirror the difference was striking, I felt instant gratification, achieving full manhood as I stared insatiably at the hot body growing before my eyes.

And this was MY body! Looking down my swelling arms I began to laugh, a fiendishly, satisfying laughter, that barely expressed my delight.

I've never felt better in my life before, despite the redness and itching, it was unbelievably satisfying to watch these muscles grow, feeling myself getting stronger by the minute.

It was an incredible sight, smooth, well-developed, lean, athletic muscles, now I could rival even the strongest of my classmates.

The growth began to slow down, the creaking began to fade, the itching began to stop, and the pain and redness disappeared. I flexed – long and hard, feeling the power and confidence surging through me.

This was truly the best I've ever felt. I snapped a picture of myself in the mirror, internally drooling over this massive, divine body I now possessed.

I grabbed the bottle of this godly foam and studied it closer. It didn't actually say, if the effects were permanent or if they would wear off. I needed to either hit the gym or get more bottles, that was for sure, I would not risk losing these muscles – ever.

I will never go back to being skinny again, I want to stay a gorgeous hunk forever.

Just like Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, I too had risen from the foam. If you are planning to buy any of this bodyscrub, it’s unfortunately out of stock at the moment.

Becoming whole

Body a day - #28: Whole

This feel so right, I finally feel whole.

You lacked the brains, I lacked the brawn, but you were going places, I wasn't.

When I pressed my lips against yours, it wasn't a declaration of love, quite the contrary. You began to fade, while I became more real. I needed you to complete me.

I sucked everything that is you, right out of your mouth; Your strength, your confidence, your courage, your charisma, your looks – everything, until I had drained it all, and what remained crumbled to dust.

Your sculpted body will change my life, our lives. With your body shaping me, I’ll be taking your name as my own, as well as your clothes and all your other belongings.

For what it's worth I am sorry, but this world eats nice guys like me for breakfast, it's survival of the fittest, with your body and my mind I can get really far.

I am finally whole.

Beefcake

Part of the new prompt-based writing challenge, hosted by @max-the-many

Body a day II - #1: Flour

To make a beefcake, you need the right kind of flour…

Six weeks ago I was skinny as a twig, but this stuff works wonders. It’s not your average protein powder, this is something far better, far more potent, so it has to be administered carefully.

With a little patience, the results will show soon enough. You can almost hear the sound of the muscles expanding, feeling your body grow ever so slightly. Looking down at your arms as they inflate is incredibly satisfying.

I’ll soon have reached my goal, my ideal body, then I’ll only need ‘the stuff’ to maintain my bulk.

Then the beefcake is done.