Lifting Up And Dumbing Down Part 11

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 11

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

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

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 20

Harry whistled as he looked over your expanded frame. “Looking good, kid.” The sensation of the tape running over you again leaves you distracted. It always seemed to get so difficult to concentrate, when you were showing off your body, even for a routine checkup. “What was that, Harry?” you ask. “I said you’re looking good,” the man noted. “I like the new look. Fitness wear suits you.” Then you’re taking off your shirt for a proper measurement around your torso. You shrug your shoulders. “Nothing special,” you note. “Just gotta have the right gear for the job.” “And you definitely do,” Harry agreed as he eyed you up and down. You grunt and shrug. “It’s progress. Still got a ways to go.” You move to stand on a scale, as directed. According to the machine, you’ve gained five pounds. “Bodybuilders have more mass.” “How’re things with Hank?” “They’re good. He’s a great coach. I think I’ll keep working with him, after this gig is over.” “Do you mind?” the doctor asked exasperatedly as he looked up at you. “Hmm?”  “You’re bouncing your pecs again,” Harry noted. You look down at your bare chest to see the heavy muscle popping up, then relaxing again. You chuckle. “Sorry. It’s sort of a habit. I do it to pass the time, when I’m bored. If I didn’t flex something, I don’t think I’d be able to sit still.” The doctor sighed longsufferingly. “Would you at least try?” “What do you think this is?” you counter. You barely suppress the urge to laugh. Duff was right. This is fun. And judging by that smirk on Harry’s face, he’s enjoying it, too. And well, since you have such a captive audience, maybe you should put on a bit more of a show.

“Dude! You did that to a doctor?” Duff laughed as the two of you sat over your bowls of chicken and rice. “What? You do it for other stuff.” “That’s just priceless!” He thumped his hand on the table. You grin viciously. “I know, right?” “We should totally team up sometime.” “Oh, you know I’m up for that.” The both of you laugh again, and your voices echo in stereo. The constant exercise has not only helped to strengthen your body, but has altered your voice to pull it into the deeper registers. “Though speaking of team-ups, that reminds me....” Duff reached down into is gym bag and slammed a massive bullet cup on the table. “Time to up your dose.” Your mouth waters as you take the 32 ounce cup and lay it in your bag. “Finally.” “What, no grimace, no sound effects? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually like that drink now.” You shrug, and the tightness of the Underarmor as it clings to your shoulders sends a thrill of pleasure down your spine. “And what if I do?” Duff smiled knowingly. “Nothing, bro. Nothing. Let’s eat.”

You’re standing in front of the floor length mirror in your mini-gym again. You’re not quite sure why. Something just ... isn’t quite right. You narrow your eyes suspiciously as you scrutinize your body. Taut muscle twitches from the rapid pump of your heartbeat, after a good lifting session. Your eyes linger over the text that pops against your pectorals. EAT BIG LIFT BIG GET BIG The last of the three is divided by a heavily weighted barbell. You pop a flex, because you can, and you smile. You pat the bulge in your crotch gently, proud at the growth you’ve been able to experience there. But that’s not it either. Gotta stay focused. Even though it’s so tempting to just stand there and stare at your reflection. Stare. And flex. And stretch.... You run a hand through your sweaty hair to pull it away from your eyes, and it clicks. “You need a haircut,” you tell your reflection, and he tells you in turn. You smile again, proud that you were able to reach the conclusion and find what didn’t belong. In fact, you’re feeling so proud that you think you deserve a reward. You peel off the tank top and smirk as your pecs begin to bounce. First one, then the other. Up and down. Up and down. And as you watch them bounce, you feel that familiar emptiness returning, and you grin at your sudden realization. “Who needs a dumb recording?” You huff out another chuckle. “I’ve got muscle.”

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 24

You grunt as you press through your tenth rep and look up at Hank. “Think you can add another ten on the rack? This is getting too easy again.” Hank smirked. “Look at you, getting all cocky.” “Not cocky, confident,” you correct as he grabs two five pound weights and places them on either side of the barbell. “I want to keep progressing, so if this is getting too easy, then I know to up the ante. You taught me that.” “And you’re learning it well.” “Was that an actual compliment?” “Would I do that?” “I think you would.” Hank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, smartass. Now get back to work. Those weights aren’t going to lift themselves.”

You smile to yourself as you continue to pump with one arm, while you run your vacuum cleaner with the other. The surge of blood through your limbs has become almost addicting to you now, and you keep wanting to feel that pressure as your muscles press against your sides. Each strain is another surge of pleasure as the muscles on your side strain and flare in time. Occasionally, you bounce a pec, just for the sake of variety. You pause a moment, shutting down the vacuum to pose in front of the mirror. Your emerald singlet clings tightly to every piece of your body, defining the muscle as you let out that same deep-throated chuckle. “Who’s a muscle man?” You ask yourself. After a few seconds to change poses, you let out another groan of pleasure and relief as you stretch, shifting your hold on the weight to your other side. Then you reply, “You’re a muscle man, and damn proud of it.” You look down at the bulge pressing against the crotch of your singlet. The outline of the jock strap you’re wearing is prominent, and you smirk as you tromp over to your weight rack and put down the dumbbell, before picking up your cell phone. You turn it towards the mirror, and Flash. You look down at your phone screen. A familiar smirk stares back up at you. “Looking good,” you compliment yourself. You’re about to turn back to your vacuum cleaner to finish the living room, when a sudden lurching in your stomach yanks you back towards the mirror. “Maybe just ... one more,” you allow yourself. Flash. Show off that muscle. Flash. So good. Flash. To pose. Flash. Like the camera. Flash. Fängsla’s camera. Click. “Show me muscle man. Show me the djur,” his voice echoes in your head. Flash. “Let the djur out. Let the djur stay.” Flash A pleasurable rumbling grates its way up your throat and out your mouth as thoughts of cleaning fade into the background. “Stay,” you low, and are rewarded by greater pleasure. You look down at a dimwitted grin, then look at the mirror to see the same features reflected on your face. “Huhuhuh,” you chuckle as you reach up and rub your bicep. Flash. A shudder runs through your body as you pose again. The taste of vanilla is strong in your mouth, and you look down to see the image of your flushed face guzzling a huge bullet cup of protein shake. You belch, not even trying to contain it. “Nice one,” you mutter almost drunkenly as you kick the bullet cup out of the way and walk back towards your makeshift home gym. You lower your phone to the stand and grasp both weights. It’s time to work out.

... Like a beast. ... Like a djur. ... .. .

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 15

“So, things have been going well?” Doctor Schroder asked. Once again, you find yourself sitting on that familiar couch, this time leaning back against it, rather than leaning forward nervously. You and the doc know each other well enough by now to be more casual and candid with one another, after all. “Yeah, pretty much. Working out is actually starting to turn sort of fun.” “Good. That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” She smiled at you then. “And your sleeping problem?” “Getting easier. Still takes me a while, but I guess it was just a matter of getting my mind used to incorporating it as part of my sleep cycle.” You shrug and sigh as you feel the material of your medium shirt riding up against your pectorals. “You look like you’re starting to get a little on the snug side,” Doc noted. “When were you planning to move up?” You arch your back to stretch it, spreading your legs wide to give you the best sensation possible. “Soon,” you groan in pleasure as your muscles send that familiar tingle up your nervous system. “You know, I thought this was going to be hard, but like I said before, it’s actually gotten a lot more fun over time.” “How so?” The doctor began taking notes again. “I don’t know. I guess having Duff has helped a lot. He’s a real firecracker, once you get past his shyness. And he really knows what he’s talking about. I guess you could say my training’s been sort of like a good cop, bad cop routine. Hank works me hard and barks orders, while Duff takes the time to explain what’s going on and why Hank needs me to adjust a position or move a certain way.” You blush. “The other day, he talked me into a chugging contest. I haven’t done something like that in years.” “And was that also fun?” You give a sort of half smile as you think back to the event. “Yeah, it ... kind of was.” You chuckle. “I don’t know why, but it was.” And suddenly you’re laughing. “It’s stupid, I know,” you say as you wipe a mirthful tear from the corner of your eye. “But I can’t seem to help myself.” She furrowed her brow. “Tell me, did you have many friends growing up?” Your laughter cut off instantly. “Why the sudden change in topic?” “Because I’m wondering about this interaction of yours with Duff. As you said yourself, your behavior with him seems ... unusual.” She jotted a few more things on her clipboard. “I’d ... rather not discuss the past,” you say evasively. She raised a brow, but remained calm as she jotted further notes. “If that’s what you want.” She shrugged. “I can’t force you. However, I will note that if you had an issue in making and keeping proper friends in your youth, it would explain your exuberance here, at least to a certain extent.” You want to say something, but a sullen silence grips at your throat. “Normally, I would suggest we change to practicing your voice acting at this point, but based on your expression, I think it might be best, if we paused here for the day. Take some time to think about what I said.” She looked up from her clipboard. “And remember that the past is simply the past. We make what we will from it. What really matters is what happens in the now, and if what you’re doing makes you happy.” A humorless chuckle escapes your lips. “How did this turn from a standard progress check to a therapy session?” “I am supposed to monitor your mental state throughout this transition, remember?” Schroder pointed out. “I don’t want you to turn into some sort of brainless meat puppet. That’s not my purpose.” You rise slowly from the couch and pick up your duffel bag. “I know,” you say as you turn and make your way towards the door. “See you next time?” “The usual appointment. Don’t be late.” You nod and close the door behind you. You can feel the old aches returning again, the loneliness. Was that why you hooked up with Duff so quickly? Were you really that desperate? You sigh and shake your head, then grit your teeth in frustration. You thought you’d moved past all this. Why here? Why now? If you couldn’t get rid of these emotions, what was the point of finding success in the first place? You just ... you just want them to stop, permanently. “You may not want me to be, Doc,” you mutter under your breath, “but ... maybe I want to.”

The pit only widened that night. You arrived at your apartment and sloughed your bag onto the floor. It was a titanic effort just to get yourself to the kitchen as you tore open the new packets and filled your upgraded bullet cup to the maximum fill line. You watched the liquid spinning as the blades forced powder and milk to become one. You listened to the steady grind as the motor forced the mechanism into action. But you weren’t really seeing that. You weren’t really hearing that. No, your mind was in the past as cruel faces and voices dripping with venomous barbs slurped in the darkness of your subconscious. “Fatass.” “God, you’re so pathetic. When are your fucking balls going to drop?” Even after you’d changed, it still hadn’t been enough. “Hey there, pretty boy.” “How’s the pansy doing today?” “Where’s your boyfriend?” You could feel the tears falling as the rage built in your chest again, burning the hole deeper, wider. “Damn it,” you growl as you slam your fist on the countertop with a heavy thump. Even after all this time, you still couldn’t let go. “Weak,” you hiss to yourself in chastisement. You practically wrench the cup loose as soon as you’re able and chug its contents. You don’t even have the time to register the flavor. You’re mind’s too busy with its own battles. You smash the cup into the sink with a thunderous clatter, and it bounces along the walls and bottom like some sort of deranged pinball, before spinning to a halt. You’ve already seized your duffel bag again and storm into your room. You drop the bag on your bed and stomp over to a rack you don’t remember seeing there before. A note sits on top.

For the days when you can’t stand doing anything else.

~D

Two bulky dumbbells sat to either side of the note. A pair of dials faced you, each numbered with what you assumed to be a weight setting. “Screw rest day,” you growl and seize the things with both hands.

You puff and growl like an animal as you pump up and down, up and down. The burn sets in, and you’re glad to have something to fight that surge of self pity. You stomp over to the bathroom mirror and glare at yourself as you continue your sets.

“You--.”

Up.

“--Are not--.”

Down.

“--Weak!”

Up.

“You’re strong!”

Down.

“Getting stronger,” you grunt.

Up.

“With every pump.”

Down.

Sweat started to soak into your good shirt.

You didn’t care.

Up.

“You are strong!”

Down.

“You are muscle!”

Up.

“You are proud of your muscle!”

Down. “Growing muscle,” you grunt.

Up. “Big.”

Down.

“Bulky!” Up. “Brawny!” Down. “Muscle!” Faster.

“Now quit feeling sorry for yourself and forget those fucking bullies once and for all, you stupid meathead!”

Faster, meathead.

You’re panting now.

Bigger, meathead.

You’re plowing through.

Stronger, meathead.

Something is starting to tear.

Stupid meathead.

And suddenly you feel cool air billowing over your your back and shoulders. Your chest is heaving. Buttons are scattered across the vanity. You’re not sure how long you’ve been pumping. You just know you’re coated in sweat. You finally lay the weights down with a tremendous clatter as you calm yourself. The seams along the shoulders of your casual long-sleeved shirt have ripped open. The buttons on the cuffs of the sleeves have come undone and multiple buttons have been torn from their places down your front. The sleeves can hardly contain the mass of your arms at a full pump, and they constrain against the blood flow, as if in some vain effort to staunch the growth you are so avidly pursuing.

“Not anymore,” you growl. “Not anymore.” You look deliberately at your reflection, raise up an arm, and flex with all the effort you can muster. Finally, you hear a tiny pop, followed by an easing of the pressure. You look down with some distaste as you tear the remainder of the seam apart with your free hand. “I’ll break through next time,” you swear as you hold up the ragged piece of cloth. “I will be free.” You let it flutter down into the sink, then grasp the weights and turn to stomp back towards your room. “I will be stronger.” You feel an unearthly calm as you drop the weights back onto their stand and break out your player, heedless of the scraps that still hold to your frame. You have more important things to focus on. You flip to the role playing folder and select a track at random. “No matter the cost.”

You just barely have enough time to read Muscles4Brains on the display. Then the music starts to play. You hear Doctor Schroder’s familiar voice guiding you down, and the world begins to change.

“No matter the cost....”

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 18

You grunt as you thrust repetitively at the weight on your shoulders, squatting up, then down. Up, then down. Your new compression shorts feel tight against your thighs and glutes, letting you feel every last piece of tension in your muscles as you continue to press. And tight is good. You’ve already gained a good three pounds of muscle from the last few weeks, giving your lithe body a thicker build as the circumference of your muscles began to increase. You weren’t anywhere near the other builders yet, but you’d made a good start, and the fact Hank wasn’t yelling at you so much implied you’d made some progress with your discipline. “Gotta admit, kid, I didn’t expect you to stick with it this far,” Hank grunted. “You’re not the first model they picked, ya know.” “So, what, you’re telling me they were scraping the bottom of the barrel, when they chose me?” You feel the now-familiar smolder in your chest as your anger begins to rouse. But you’re in the middle of a set, and you know better than to interrupt that, so you push it into your muscles, instead, to power through the exercise. “I wouldn’t call it scraping the bottom.” Hank shrugged. “You’re just number ten or so, I think. The others wimped out, after the first couple of weeks. But you, kid, you’re different. It takes real dedication to keep up this kind of routine. Not many would. I’ll admit I didn’t think you’d have what it takes, but here you are, proving me wrong.” You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “Okay, what’re you trying to butter me up for?” Hank couldn’t help but let out an explosive guffaw. “Kid, you’d have made one hell of a linebacker, with that attitude.” “Not a footballer,” you grunt as you round out your second set. “I’m a body builder.” A sudden shudder passes through you, and a familiar tingling spreads from your crotch. Hank cocked his head and stroked his scruffy chin, passively flexing his massive bicep and pectoral. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Not yet,” he said, after a good ten seconds of silence, “but I think you’re going to be.”

“He actually said that to you?” Duff balked as you sat at your usual seat by the restaurant. Your new jeans felt a little on the loose side, after moving up from your previous size, but that was the point of the workouts in the first place. They didn’t call it body building for nothing. You fidgeted uncomfortably in your new large shirt. The sleeves kept brushing against your skin and the sight of the folds when you tucked it into your waist with the belt left you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. It was uncomfortable before, but ... you find yourself missing the feeling of those old clothes pulling so tightly against your body. “Yeah,” you reply as you sip from the tall glass of water the waitress left you. You’d quit drinking sodas a while ago. Too much sugar. You already got enough from the shakes and what you find naturally in food, so why take more than you have to? “Dude, do you have any idea how many bodybuilders would kill to be in your shoes right now?” “It’s not that big of a deal,” you brush it off casually as you look over the menu. The burger was always good, but you had a hankering to try something new today. “Not a big deal? He’s all but offered to be your personal coach!” You shrug. “Isn’t that what he is right now, anyways?” Duff smacked his forehead. “I mean after your contract’s done, stupid.” “Who’re you calling stupid? I’m not the one who zones out every time he lifts weights.” “It’s called mental training, dumbass,” he shot back hotly. “What’d you just call me?” “You heard me.” That did it. The loud screech of metal legs on wood sounded as the both of you stood at once to butt heads. “There’s just one way to settle this,” Duff snorted. His whole body was tense, his muscles pulsing from his increased heart rate. “What?” you snarl back. The smoldering in your chest had been fanned into a virtual inferno. Duff slammed himself back onto his chair and scooted it up to the table. Then he removed his cup and placed it on the floor, before ramming his upper arm on the table’s surface at an obtuse angle. His hand laid open expectantly. The gauntlet had been thrown, and you weren’t about to back down from a fight. You follow his example, prepping the table for what was to come. Your eyes narrow as you wiggle your fingers menacingly. “Are you two ready to--?” “Teriyaki and rice,” you both echo in stereo, never breaking eye contact. “Oh, um ... right. Anything ... else?” The two of you turned to fix your angry glares on her. She got the message and beat a hasty retreat. “What happened to your burger?” Duff asked as he leaned more heavily on his arm, adjusting his position in final preparation. “Wanted to try something new.” You shrug as you work your arm a few times, pumping it to loosen some of the stiffness and increase circulation. “Seemed a good choice, all that lean protein. And you said the sauce was good stuff. Thought I’d see if the hype was all it was cracked up to be.” “You’ll see soon enough.” He narrowed his gaze in an attempt to sharpen his glare. “Come on.” “Oh, I’m coming.” You grit your teeth in an angry snarl and clasp your hand to his, wrapping your fingers around the back of his thumb, even as he did the same with yours. It wasn’t much of a fight. You’d been making great gains, but Duff had been lifting longer and he had more training. You managed to hold your ground for a whole fifteen seconds, before the strain became too much and Duff gained the advantage. Your arm trembled as you struggled to push back against your opponent, but despite your zeal and your valiant attempts, your trembling hand finally touched the end of the table, and you let out an explosive breath as Duff lets go. “Fuck!” you curse. Then your eyes widen as you realize what you just said and quickly put a hand to your mouth. “Sorry.” Duff chuckled. “I wondered how long it’d be, before you finally stopped being so formal, dumbass.” “Quit it,” you grumble sulkily. Duff smirked as he reclaimed his water from the floor. “Whatever you say, bro. Whatever you say.”

“Whatever you say....” you mutter dreamily as you stand before a floor-length mirror, staring into your reflection. A towering bodybuilder stares back with that familiar intensity you’ve become so accustomed to seeing at the gym. A pair of compression shorts clings to stocky calves and bulky thighs, while a massive sleeveless tank strains against his bovine torso. The thing had to be at least a XXL. “You are a big, dumb bodybuilder,” he says in that bovid voice. “You lift things up and put them down.” “I am....” “A big, dumb bodybuilder.” “A big, dumb bodybuilder....” you parrot. “You lift things up and put them down.” “I lift things up and put them down.” “That is all you do. Lift things up and put them down. Lift weights up, drop voice down.” You feel a sudden weight in your hands. “I lift things UP,” you crack, “drop voice d-OWN.” Another crack and suddenly, your voice is huskier, deeper. “Up and down. Up and down.” You start pumping in time to the voice. “Listening up as your thoughts slow down. Pumping up and dropping down. Deeper and deeper. Deep, like my voice. Slower and slower, like your thoughts. Because bodybuilders don’t need to think. Bodybuilders need to lift. You lift things up and put them down. You pump muscle up and put brains down. Because you don’t need to focus on big thoughts right now. You need to focus on big muscles. Big muscles grow by lifting. Lifting up and putting down. You’re beginning to feel it now, aren’t you? The more you lift, the bigger you get, the less you think ahead. Because you don’t need to think ahead. You just need to lift things up and put them down. All you want to do is lift things up and put them down.” “I....” “And the bigger you get, the stronger the urge becomes to lift things up and put them down. Because you are building muscle. You are pumping it up into your brain, burning those useless thoughts away like so much fat. Replacing them with what you really need to know, what stands at the core of your being, the real meat that’s left behind. “You are a big, dumb bodybuilder.” “I ... am a big, dumb bodybuilder.” “You want to be a big, dumb bodybuilder.” “I want to be a big, dumb bodybuilder.” “You lift things up and put them down.” “I lift things up and put them down.” The repetition feels so wonderful. And all the while, you’re pumping, pumping. “You don’t think. You act.” “Don’t ... think.” “Because dumb bodybuilders like you aren’t supposed to think. You just do what your coaches tell you to do.” “Do ... what I’m told....” “Up the weights, up the gains. Put down old thoughts. Put down the brains.” You can’t help it. A dimwitted chuckle escapes your lips, and it feels so right. Your reflection is lifting with you now, and he’s pumping some serious iron. You hear the clank, look to your right. Now you’re pumping some serious iron. You hardly even noticed how your arms were suddenly bare or how tight your pants had become again. You smirk at the mirror, and your reflection follows your example. “I lift things up and put them down,” you say in stereo, and you laugh again, because it feels right. “I really am a dumbass,” you guffaw. “Huhuhuhuh.” You enjoy that feeling for you don’t know how long, before a strange sort of fog descends over your mind. Everything fades away. You blink once. Twice. Three times. And suddenly you’re back in Doc Schroder’s office. You look down at your diminutive frame in disappointment. Compared to what you were in trance, this is just a sliver. But at least that fake you gives you something to work towards. And you are going to work for it. “Welcome back,” Schroder says. “Tell me. Have you gotten a better feel for your character yet?” You chuckle, still feeling the familiar tingle from the hypnosis-induced dream. “You could say that.” “Good. I thought you might. In that case, it’s time we focused on practicing in real life. I don’t think you’ll need me to put you under anymore.” You frown. “But I liked that.” “Most of my patients do,” she noted, “but I’m not here to give them pleasure. I’m here to help them achieve their roles. I’m here to help you achieve yours.” She looked seriously at you. “You’ve been getting a little too comfortable with the bodybuilding stereotype of late. I’ve seen it in the way you talk, the way you move. You need time to focus yourself again. Until you do, I don’t feel comfortable putting you through any more hypnotic sessions. And besides that, if you’ve already achieved the voice range that you’re looking for, then there’s no further need of it. I’ll be expecting those files back next session, young man. No ifs, ands, or buts.” “But--.” She raised a stern hand, and her eyes flashed as the light above turned her hair into a fiery halo. “I mean it. Make sure to bring it in. If you don’t, I’ll have to take measures.” You sigh in defeat, slumping your shoulders as you lean back against the couch. “Yes, ma’am.” “Good. Now, then, let’s go over those lines again, shall we?”

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 9

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

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

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