Smith Panted As He Started Awake. Cool Air Washed Over His Legs, Arms, And Torso As He Stared Up At The

Smith panted as he started awake. Cool air washed over his legs, arms, and torso as he stared up at the ceiling. He winced at the pain in his skull. The room was blurry. Where ... was he?

He sat up slowly in bed and felt the cold touch of metal against his hand. His breathing quickened, and he snatched the object up, cradling it against his bare chest. His piece was still there. He quickly opened the cartridge. Every bullet was accounted for.

Then he looked down, noticed what he was wearing, and cursed. His boxers were nowhere in sight. Instead, a pair of tight white briefs clung to his frame. His skin tingled as he looked around the room. The walls were a blank tan with light texturing.

“What ... happened?” he grunted. His throat felt parched and irritated, and his voice sounded gravelly. One minute, he was running gun maintenance, the next he ... he couldn’t remember. He must’ve been drugged or hit over the head. “Okay, no sudden movements, then,” he said. “Don’t wanna risk problems, if I’ve got a concussion.”

His head throbbed and he let out a low growl. “Damn it,” he swore. He primed his gun and pointed toward the door. Whoever had kidnapped him would have to walk in eventually. And when they did, he would make sure they let him go with interest. They’d have a hell of a lot to answer for, when he was through with them. Screw the police.

The tingling intensified, and a low moan escaped his lips as a bulge began to swell in the crotch of his briefs. “Not now,” he snarled. He laid his arm on the side of his leg and clenched his hand around the gun The cold metal helped to cool his hot blood as he rested it against his thigh. His head still throbbed, though, and an odd ringing clang echoed in his ears.

The room spun as he propped himself up, and the ringing intensified. His head rolled back as a deep voice echoed through his head, singing in a dialect he didn’t recognize. It droned and thrummed in time with the ringing blows.

His hand trembled. His arm and leg hair thickened. The bulge in his briefs swelled. The last thing he remembered was the sharp retort of the gun as he slipped into the blackness.

Smith blinked slowly. He turned his head weakly to see a woman’s pale hand caressing his own. It looked so tiny, the way it cradled there. Five strapping men stood tall and proud as they looked at him. Their eyes watered, and his own vision clouded. He felt the moisture trickle down over his nose and lips and he furrowed his brow in confusion. He wasn’t upside down. The water shouldn’t have trailed the way it did.

One of the figures stepped forward and offered a large crude hammer. Smith reached forward and seized he shaft. For some reason, he felt ... peaceful at the feel of it. He looked up at the man and nodded gratefully. A much larger hand cradled his and he turned to stare into a monstrosity. The woman’s face was brutish, yet well kept. A bowl cut had been set neatly to frame her face and the single massive eye in the middle of her head above the nose.

Instead of revulsion, Smith felt a longing and a pang of regret. He looked over the men and blinked as he took in their single eyes as well.

“Rest now, my son. Rest now,” a gentle voice whispered. Cold sleek scale brushed against his skin as he turned his head to behold the massive writhing body of snake-like limbs and he beautiful woman who sat atop it from the waist up. The clanging rang again as he laid back his head and smiled at the gathering. Then he sighed, and the darkness came again.

Smith blinked slowly as he came to awareness. He sat up and rubbed his great eye with his free hand. “What ... happened?” he asked. The ringing echoed in his skull again, but ... that wasn’t the only place. “What the...?”

He stumbled to his feet and made his way to the source of the sound. He tried the handle. The knob twisted easily and opened into an absolute impossibility. The cave was positively enormous. Its roof stretched up into a dark abyss illuminated by veins of crystal that reflected the light from a series of red pools that dotted the space. Heat roiled off in waves, but nothing burned. It felt ... tingly.

He sniffed, and the smell of roasting meat entered his nostrils. His stomach growled. He remembered the ground shaking, the pounding almost like a rockslide. And suddenly he was chewing heavily. The flavor was somewhat gamy, but the seasonings masked the worst of it.

More pieces of meat sat on kebabs, waiting for him to tear into them. He did so with relish. Great earthenware jars soon revealed a dark brown liquid that tasted sweet. He grinned. “Beer!” he bellowed excitedly. He drank greedily from the jar and let it drop with a lusty sigh of satisfaction, once he’d drained the vessel. Then he unleashed an earth-shaking belch.

He scratched his stomach, then his crotch. Then he reached for another kebab. It didn’t take him long to polish off the reserves in the room. When his hunger had been sated, he rose and strode curiously toward the pools. He dipped a hand in curiously. All he felt was a pleasant warmth.

The cavern rumbled again, and this time a grin spread across Smith’s face. He pulled his hand out and watched the glowing substance drip down like bathwater. He rose and strode over to a plinth that seemed almost to shrink the closer he drew to it. A large hammer lay on the surface, alongside sets of tongs, bins filled with glinting metals, and pools and jars he had yet to properly identify. Still, the ringing sounded in his ears, and his hand twitched as he reached for the great hammer’s shaft.

He was ... supposed to do something, wasn’t he?

He seized the tool and raised it.

Something ... important. Make ... make ...

He plunged a hand into the bin and fished out a fistful of metal. It shrieked as he crumpled his hand, and he grinned as he turned toward the pools.

Make.

He stomped his foot.

Make.

The earth trembled and groaned as a massive metal anvil rose out of the stone.

Make.

He released the hammer and rested it on the surface, then dipped his free hand into the pool to cup the glowing liquid.

Make.

He crushed the metal into the liquid, and was left with a glowing malleable substance that felt like clay. A grin spread over his mouth as he returned to the anvil.

Make.

The air rang with the blow of the hammer.

Make.

The metal bent to his will.

Make.

He struck again and again as the hammer sang and his grin widened. The room became brighter. He didn’t care. All that mattered was what lay before him. The metal extended and lengthened under his ministrations. He didn’t know how long it had been. He didn’t care. He picked up the piece with his bare hands and immersed it into a black substance. The metal hissed and the surface spat fire. He chuckled a deep low guffaw at the sight. Then he pulled out the piece and placed it square with the center of his nose as he peered down the blade.

Make.

He strode to the edge of his table, where an intricately engraved metal pole had already been laid. He ground at the blade with a large moist stone, until the metal shone and the edges were sharpened. Lastly, he mounted the new piece of metal to a notch in the top of the shaft. The two clicked into place, and he grinned as he stood proudly, raising the spear over his head.

“I make!” he crowed, and the whole cavern shook. He no longer had dificulty making out the stalactites that hung from above. He scratched at the roughspun wool cloth that preserved his dignity. “That was fun. I make more!”

With every clang of his hammer, the memories of the hotel room faded. The tiny creatures that flickered across his vision seemed more appetizing than they did interesting. More than once, he wondered what they might taste like, and his mouth watered at the idea.

Smith was no more. When he tried to remember his name, the only word that sprung to mind was sidirourgós.

He thumped his thick muscular chest in delight. “sidirourgós.” He tested the word, running his tongue over his teeth as he felt the way it passed through his mouth. “I make. I forge. I am sidirourgós.” He chuckled. “I am sidirourgós!”

And with that, he went to work. A large set of blueprints had already materialized, carved on a stone block. His muscles tensed. His grin widened. He had an order. He understood the writings and images. It was time to get to work.

Off in the shadows, two golden eyes glinted as sharp white teeth bore themselves in a grin. “Success,” she hissed quietly as her sinuous body slithered away.

Sidirourgós! I had not expected this ending when start reading it.

Just wait. It’s linked to another story I have in the works. ;)

Blackout

What ... what just happened? Everything felt so dizzy. Brandon stumbled over to a support beam and clutched at it. His ear buts draped down over his chest, only being held by the tight strap on his tank top.

... When did he get a tank top? And for that matter, when did he get so jacked? He huffed and pulled at the sticky fabric clinging to his abdominals. He shuddered at the feeling of the shirt pulling against rock-hard stones.

“I ... I’m big. When did I--?” he froze. “My voice...” It was so deep, gravelly. He looked for a mirror, but he couldn’t see one in the labyrinth of weight machines. Weights clanged rhythmically, pounding against his brain as he struggled to focus. What had just happened?

“Hey, you okay, bro?”

Brad turned to stare at another hulk. Two bluetooth earpieces popped out on either side of his head. The man had to be at least six and a half feet tall. His bright red shoes blended almost perfectly with the floor. Or ... was that just the blurry vision?

“Hey. I’m asking if you’re all right.”

Brad blinked slowly. “I ... I don’t know,” he finally said. “I ... what happened?” He scrunched his brow together and closed his eyes. “My ... head.” He groaned and his breathing became labored.

Two big hands seized his arms. “Easy, bro. Easy. Big bro’s here.”

“Big ... bro?”

The muscle man chuckled as he laid a thick arm around Brandon’s shoulders. “Well, yeah. What else would I be to all you pipsqueaks?” he asked jokingly and gave Brandon a friendly jab to the shoulder.

“I ... I’m so confused.” Brandon put a hand to his head. “I ... I remember coming in, putting on my clothes, then....”

The big man frowned. “How long you been feeling dizzy?”

“I ... just now, I guess.” Brandon’s breathing calmed as the big man navigated the maze of machines. Occasionally, the blur of a muscular form would be pumping dumbbells or doing squats. Some posed with selfies in the mirror. But they all seemed ... well, not quite there. It was like they were sort of ... merging with the gym. He could hardly make out their legs. This man was the realest thing he’d seen since ... whatever this was happened.

The man who identified himself as Big Bro looked carefully over Brandon’s form. “Let’s find you a place to sit down,” he said. The sea of machines seemed almost to part at his advance. A few moments later, a chair appeared out of the sea of red tiles. No, not a chair, a ... bench? Two forceful arms pressed him down and he peered into a set of intense green eyes.

“You’ve been making some pretty substantial gains,” the man noted. “I saw you drinking between sets, so it’s not dehydration,” he murmured. He stroked his chin, then lowered his gaze.

Brandon reached up and stroked his own chin, then jumped in surprise at the feeling of the stubble that had grown along his jaw. He always preferred to go clean shaven. Why had he let that slip? Why would  he let it slip? He thought he felt his legs stretching for a minute, but he couldn’t be sure. It was more like a yank than a kick.

“Sorry, bro. I have to check,” Big Bro said as free air danced over bare skin.

Brandon wiggled his toes and stared down in some surprise. His head felt ... clearer.

Big Bro nodded in satisfaction. “Good. No puncture marks.” He smiled good-naturedly. “How do your feet feel?”

Brandon frowned. “Throbbing,” he muttered in surprise.

“Thought so.” Big Bro chuckled. “You got the wrong shoe size, dumbass.” He laughed and rose to his feet.

“Hey! I’m not a dumbass. I’m a ... I’m a ... a....” Brandon blinked in surprise. He ... couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember? Why could he only think of weight machines and sports bars and ... and ...

“Easy, bro. You’re gonna have a panic attack.” The big man patted him gingerly on the back. “I’ll tell ya what. Put these on, and we’ll go see the doc, okay? Gym’s got one right on staff. He’ll be happy to check you out.”

“I ... yeah. That ... that’ll be good.” Brandon could barely keep himself from hyperventilating. His hands shook as he fumbled for the shoes.

“I can tie ‘em for you, if you want.”

“No!” Brandon was shocked at how much his voice carried. The gym ground to a halt at the sudden disturbance. He blushed. “Sorry. No. I ... I can do it, myself.” If he didn’t, he knew he was going to go insane.

Big Bro backed off. “Whatever you say, little bro.” The rhythmic clanking resumed seconds later.

Brandon pulled his socks on and marveled at the way his muscles rubbed against each other as he moved. ‘Is this really me?’ he thought. Then came the shoes. They felt cool and crisp; a little rigid, though.

“Ready to go, little bro?” Big Bro asked.

“I just need to finish this last loop and--.” A wave of vertigo washed over him as he pulled the knot tight. The clanking pounded louder. His heartbeat quickened. “And ... and ... uhhhhh....” The red in his shoes seemed almost to glow, and a dopey smile pulled at his lips. He watched the red bleed from the floor into his legs. He felt a stirring in his loins. His muscles tensed with a nervous energy. He blinked, and suddenly he felt the high back of an adjustable workout bench resting against his back.

“Feelin’ better, little bro?”

Blood surged through his head. His snapback had been reversed now, and he smirked cockily at the behemoth as he let out a drunken laugh. “Huhuhuh. Never been better. Guess I just ... blacked out. Sorry for scarin’ ya.”

Big Bro chuckled. “Dumbass. Now go drop kick that plateau into next week!”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Fuck, yeah!”

Big bro grinned. “Back to work, little bro.”

Brandon’s shoes glowed with the floor panels as veins began to creep up his calves. His eyes became glassy as he gave a vapid grin. “You got it, bro.” “Keep this up, and you’ll be partying with me and the other bros in no time.” Big Bro grinned as he turned away, carrying off a pair of red shoes that had torn around the seams. He pressed a button on his watch and smiled dreamily as he walked along past other muscle men working to grow as big as they can. All of them stared blankly as they pumped in time to their regimens. “Yo, Big Bro reporting from Franchise 72. One of the little bros outgrew the shoes. He woke up for a little bit, but I took care of it.” He chuckled. “Bro’s gonna be a fucking beast, the rate he’s going. I’ll make sure he remembers to size up on time next time.” He nodded, then shuddered as his shoes glowed. “Yes, Sir. I will work out. Will set an example.” He grinned as he passed to an empty weight machine that ghosted along the tiles just as rapidly as he approached it. “Big bro out.” He closed off the call and let out a deep brainless guffaw as the music resumed in his ear buds. His heart rate picked up. His muscles tensed. He reached for the grips. And descended into darkness.

Warning: This story follows a hypnotic script. If you are susceptible to hypnosis, please do not engage in this story until you are in a situation where falling into trance will not be harmful. You have been warned. Read at your own Risk.

Static

Hey there. Yeah, I’m talking to you. No need to be shy. I don’t bite, you know. I just couldn’t help but notice you’ve been watching me. Don’t try to deny it. I don’t mind. A lot of people watch me, after all. A guy gets used to it when he gets this big.

Mmm ... and I do love being big. It takes a lot of work, but it’s worth it in the end.

But you know what I love even more than being big, little man? Huhuh. I love making other people big. You see that guy over there benching three hundred? I trained him. He was smaller than you are when he first came here. Now he’s a real Goliath. I like to call him moose from time to time. It fits, wouldn’t you say? Every one of them has a name. Rhino, Burro, Horse. Every one of them is tailored to the individual. Gotta fit it just right, you know what I mean?

It’s kinda like my shirt. You see how it hugs so tightly to my muscles, really accentuates my figure. Their names do the same for them, help them focus, help them improve.

Mmm. You know, this is actually my favorite shirt. I love the way I can just flex my muscles and suddenly, it swells with me. The gray texturing is nice, too. It reminds me of static. You know, the kind you see wavering on a TV screen. Any time I want to focus on my workouts, I just look down, and bam. There it is. It’s sort of a chain reaction, ya know? Just like the TV. Everything just sort of stops broadcasting, and my arms jump up and down with the static. It’s so easy to just follow along. Lift and follow. Watch and follow. Listen and follow. Follow...

Follow...

You’re pretty good at following, aren’t you?

Following my movements, following each flex, following as my shirt expands and contracts in that endless cycle of jumping static.

Don’t look away now. Follow it. It’s all right. I enjoy a good watcher like you. And there’s plenty to watch, isn’t there? Go ahead. Follow my movements. Follow my breathing. Follow the bouncing rise and fall. Let it fill you. Let it move you. Move you to breathe in time as you follow, as you watch, as you listen.

Oh, don’t worry. You don’t need to focus on me. After all, you don’t pay attention to the sound static makes, do you? No, that sound just fades into the background. You don’t notice it, but you hear it all the same. You hear it, and you listen as you follow, follow my voice, follow my instructions, even if you don’t remember them.

Following deeper and deeper as you get closer to the screen. Because you have to watch. You have to follow. Follow the bouncing pecs, the jumping screen. Jumping with the static. Following the static. Listening to the static.

...

Obeying the static.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Relax.

Don’t think.

Follow the static.

Slipping deeper now.

Follow the static.

The more you follow, the deeper you fall.

Deeper into the screen. Deeper into the static. Deeper into that happy empty bliss that is slowly surrounding you, just like the static.

Follow the static.

Are you following the static?

...

Good boy.

The more you follow, the deeper you go. The deeper you go, the more you follow. Follow the static.

Follow my static.

...

Follow me.

My voice is the static. My voice is the thing you must follow. Follow and obey.

...

Say it now, little man. You follow the static. You obey the static. You obey my voice.

You obey me.

Good boy. Now listen. Listen, and obey. Follow and obey.

You are going to be a musclehead. Every day and every way, more and more, you will become a musclehead. You will work out at the gym. You will follow my suggestions to you. You will lift weights. You will eat healthily. The gym will become more and more like home as muscle slowly consumes you, consumes your thoughts, consumes you with the static, my static. 

My musclehead.

I think I’ll call you Bull. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, musclehead? I’ll make you a real muscle bull.

Just let the static fill your head piece by piece, bit by bit. Over time, it’ll whisper all on its own as you internalize what I have to say, because my voice is the static. And you obey the static.

You obey me.

That’s a good little runt. When I say the words WAKE UP, you will return to wakefulness, ready to execute your desire, the desire to be a musclehead, like me. You will lift weights. You will work out. You will train. And the more muscle you gain, the dumber you’ll be. You’ll still function in society, but things will be ... simpler outside important matters. Just like a switch flicking on. Just like the remote clicking on the television screen, the screen that is filled with static. Just sports, muscle, and weights in that muscle head of yours.

...

Good boy. When I say the phrase: Static is calling, you will fall into the same state of mind as you are now, ready to listen to the static. Ready to follow the static. Ready to obey the static.

Ready to OBEY.

Now, when you awaken, you will have a strong desire to work out. The musclehead in you will grow stronger the longer you do. You will pace yourself according to what your body can manage, and not push yourself to the point of self-harm or injury as you change.

Good little musclehead.

Now come on. It’s time to WAKE UP, Bull. The gym is waiting.

If you enjoyed this, please like and reblog. Thank you for reading. I hope it will prove motivating, helpful, and pleasurable to you growing muscleheads out there. ~Omni

The recent stories are making me feel like I need to get some red shoes for working out...

Brand ain’t ready for full production yet, bro. Gotta keep ‘em in the gym. But I’ll tell ya what. Here. Try a pair for free. Sure, they’re a little on the big side, but you’ll grow into ‘em real quick. See, bro? I can already tell. You can’t stay away from ‘em. Can’t look away.S’all right, bro. I know what you’re going through. Just put ‘em on.That’s right. Just like that. Feels good, don’t it? Go on, pop a flex. Mmm ... that’s right. Now another.Another.Another.There you go. That’s right. Smirk. Show off. Feel those pecs harden, thicken, swell into big, meaty slabs of solid muscle!Yeah, I know that look. Here, try these dumbbells. They’ll help get you swole.Yeah, bro. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. See how fast you’re growin’ outta your gear? Come on. I got new stuff for you to wear over this way. Just through here.That’s right. Open that locker. Put on the gear. Compression pants n’d shirts’ll show off the goods.Yeah, that’s better. Lookin’ good, bro. You’re almost as big as me now.Huhuhuh. Yeah. You’re gonna work out for the next few hours, really break in those shoes, git swole. After that, you can report to the lab for testing. Gym’s getting new gear, bro. And you like new gear, don’t you?Yeah. There’s a good bro. Just pump and forget....Pump and forget....

Driver Wanted

The bold print stood out from the clipping as Andrew made his way onto the lot. The company must have been pretty small. All he could see were a total of three cars and one single story office building. That being said, the cars were very nice, indeed. Their exteriors shone with a fresh coat of paint and cured protective glaze that spoke just how new they were.

He brushed his hair to the side again as he fussed with his parted comb-over and advanced on the building itself. The interior was well furnished with a more modernistic metallic theme. Black carpet and black leather chairs were highlighted by shiny chrome lamps and side tables. He maneuvered around a burnished metal coffee table that sat in the middle of the waiting room, then approached the front desk.

The secretary seemed a little on the young side, but who was Andrew to judge? If he could do his job, then more power to him. The kid couldn’t have been much older than his mid-twenties. He stared at the screen, typing feverishly behind the monitor as the light flickered over his eyes. His mouth drooped somewhat lazily, as if he were struggling to stifle a yawn, and his hair had been completely bleached to the point of looking almost white as it rose in a series of spikes reminiscent of a boy band. It fit his blocky jaw and tight muscles, however. A set of gray sweat pants and shirt hugged to his frame as he spread his legs wide and continued to type, heedless of the new arrival.

“Excuse me,” Andrew finally said. “I’m here for the interview? I called ahead.”

The kid blinked slowly, then lifted his head to stare at Andrew. The boy’s dark eyes rolled over Andrew’s broad shoulders, his pudgy frame, thinning hair, and hazel eyes.

“Name?” he asked in a low stuffed-up voice.

“Andrew Simmons.”

The kid tapped the space bar on his keyboard, then clicked his mouse a few times to draw up a new program. He scrolled a ways, then nodded. “You’re here early.” He reached for a phone and began to dial. “Take a seat. I’ll call the boss.”

Andrew nodded and strode back to a curved metal chair with black cushions to cradle its occupant. The cushions’ promise did not lie, though the curve made it difficult to support his lower back properly, which left him with a certain amount of discomfort that eventually left him leaning forward with parted legs, so he could rest his elbows on his thighs.

“Sir?” the secretary lowed. “Your next appointment is here.” He listened intently and nodded. “Yes, Sir. I told him, Sir. He’s waiting.” He nodded again. “Yes, Sir. I’ll give him the paper work right away. Yes, Sir. I’ll resume the video after. Thank you, Sir.” His mouth split into a broad grin. “Yes, Sir!” he said excitedly, then hung up and snatched a clip board and some papers from a folder nearby. He practically raced over to where Andrew sat. “Boss has some papers for you to review. Non-disclosure, liability, that sort of stuff. You know how it is.”

Andrew nodded. He’d performed enough stunt driving to know the usual risks and protections involved in a job. His gaze trailed over the boy’s form as he took the paperwork and a pen from him. The kid’s legs were carved like granite, and he walked so proudly. It was more like a strut than a walk. His legs swaggered in his stride, and a light bulge in the sweatpants’ crotch was more than hint enough for why the boy chose that particular gait.

The kid smirked and flexed a bicep. “Like what you see?”

Andrew blushed. “Sorry.”

The secretary just grinned. “S’no problem, bro. I like when people stare at my muscles. Muscles are meant to be admired.” He flexed again as a dreamy look came over his face and he began the return trip to his desk. “Admiration leads to motivation leads to activation leads to....” He continued to mutter to himself as he strode to his chair, sat down, clicked out of the program he’d used to look up Andrew’s appointment, and pressed the space bar again. It didn’t take long for him to start gaping again.

Andrew hastily dove into the paperwork and began analyzing the wording. Much like his other standard contracts, there were the usual safeguards for the company, along with a stated amount of income he would receive for his services and royalty payments, should any footage taken in the course of a drive be used for a commercial.

“Mister Simmons.”

Andrew’s head surged to attention as his neck craned up and up and up to stare at the man that stood before him. The kid was a dwarf compared to the brawn that stood before Andrew now. Andrew quickly surged to his feet.

“Sorry, Sir. I didn’t hear you come in.”

The man known only as Boss chuckled. “Kind of the point of the carpeting. I like to see what kind of reflexes my drivers have when something unexpected occurs. Shall we, Mister Simmons?” He motioned with a meaty hand toward a door marked STAFF ONLY. Andrew took the hint and pushed ahead. The door led to a long hallway lit only by fluorescent overheads that flickered occasionally as they passed along.

“My business is broken into what you might call a set of microcosms integrated into a fine-tuned system,” the man explained.

“Um, excuse me, Sir. I’m sorry to interrupt what I’m sure will be a fascinating explanation, but you haven’t told me your name yet,” Andrew cut in.

A scowl played over the owner’s face for a moment, then it broke apart as he laughed. “I haven’t, have I? Sorry. I like to get down to business when I’m dealing with work. The name’s Boston. Boston McTavish. I ask my employees to call me Boss. It’s a joke as well as a good way to break the ice, so we can be on more of a first name basis.”

“And the sirs?”

“I can’t help it if I’ve garnered that much respect. And let’s not forget societal norms.”

Andrew shrugged. “Fair enough. So, Mister McTavish, you were saying?”

“Boss,” McTavish corrected absently. “I was saying we have a series of focuses in my service that exist to integrate into a proper whole. We focus on body work and maintenance for the occasional special order. And as you’ve seen, I put a particular emphasis on body.” He winked at Andrew. “Part of the benefits package includes a fully stocked gym for workouts. Now, back to business. We have a unique model of cars for ride service. We specialize in escorting and transporting a variety of clientele. Though our particular niche market focuses more in the richer quarters of the states, we also have a variety of transport geared toward the average customer on their way to or from work. Many of our customers are converts from other services. This is on account of our exceptional service and professionalism. It is a standard I expect all of my drivers to maintain, whether they are working the ride service or not.”

“If you have such a large following, how come I haven’t heard of you before?”

“We originally started in the west coast. This branch office has only recently been opened to offer our services out here in the east. I have enough men covering things out west that I can afford to come out here and ensure the setup goes smoothly.”

“And I assume this is where I come in.”

“Exactly. I want to see how well you drive and how well you can follow instructions. Assuming you pass, you’ll have the job and all the benefits that go with it.”

“Such as?”

“Full health and dental, for a start, and in the event you really impress me, an opening salary of twenty dollars an hour.”

Andrew raised his brow. “That much.”

“And that’s not including royalties, should you be chosen as the driver for any future commercials or advertisements we put up. And, assuming you excel and bring more customers or prompt enough positive reviews, you’ll get bonuses with your checks.”

“What’s the catch?”

“I need you to be available when I need you. Most of the time, schedules will be worked out in advance, but sometimes we get last minute customers. Most will be looking for transport either to or from a gym.”

The door opened to reveal a massive cement garage and a waiting sleek black muscle car. There were no labels or brands that Andrew could detect. “What’s this?” he asked.

“In a word, progress. In more words, a new model of car unique to my company. I’d like for you to test drive it for me.”

“You’re sure you have enough money for all this? I mean, going into making a new brand of car is pretty expensive.”

“Which is why we’re only using the one for now. Our other cars are easily modified with any extra additions they may require, and then inspected by qualified individuals. This one, however, is all us, and we intend to make use of it. As with the other models, it’s passed inspections and is up to code. What I’d like for you to do is take it for a drive.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. I want it to be put through its paces. We’ve already arranged for a course to practice on, and have all the necessary permits. So, are you in?”

“For test driving, I suppose so. For the job, we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Of course, of course,” Boss said. “Now let’s finish that paperwork, so we can get this test started.”

The car rumbled in a massaging purr as Andrew turned on the ignition. The chair had adapted to his body almost perfectly with its various sensors, and the wheel sat easily in his hands. The cool leather gave him goosebumps as he stared out into the forested area.

“Listen closely, Andrew. We want this to be a good clean run. Start off slow, then run it through its paces. You read?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Andrew replied as he reached down and shifted to first gear. The car pulled out slowly and easily as he began along the course. The rough dirt road was level and dry, so there wasn’t a need to worry about testing the shock absorbers this time. Cool AC blew in his face as he began his run at a leisurely twenty miles an hour. His skin prickled as he pushed the gas pedal and heard the engine’s roar.

“Looking good, Andrew. Run her around for the first lap as a warm-up. Then we’ll see how well this muscle car can flex.”

Andrew chuckled. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Andrew stirred impatiently in his seat as he rounded the final curve and passed the starting line. The moment he was free, he quickly picked up the acceleration and shifted the stick. The car roared exultantly as it spat up a cloud of dust and debris. Andrew chuckled at the familiar tingle of adrenaline coursing through his system. “Someone’s anxious,” he muttered.

The car spun smoothly as he took the sharp turns, digging into the track to pull the traction forward. It practically jumped forward as he ramped up the RPMs and switched into high gear.

“Oh, yes.” He smirked as the trees began to blur by. His body tensed as he clutched the wheel and his heart pounded in his chest. He shuddered in pleasure, the noticed an icon light pop up on the dash. “Hey, Boss, what’s with this mark on the dash board?”

“It’s just the driver assist function. Don’t worry about it,” Boss replied.

Andrew grunted as he rolled his shoulders to readjust his shirt. Things were starting to feel a little snug. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

“Damn right, whatever I say,” Boss teased.

Andrew laughed and scratched at his chest. “What’s this bar icon for?”

“Storage charge. The car’s a hybrid. Gas for the harder faster road and electricity for residential driving. The battery’s just charging, while the gas is burning.”

“Oh. Okay.” He scratched his head and the bristles on his high and tight cut scraped as a dull haze settled over him.

“Eyes on the road, Andrew.”

“Yes, Sir,” Andrew said as he rolled his eyes. He knew what he was doing. The scent of the car’s air freshener washed over him, putting his body at ease as the familiar scent of old spice, or maybe AXE, filled the air. The sun flashed as he took a turn. He blinked and grinned as he barreled through the straightway. They knew the course. They recognized the track. It was easy. He reached over to pat the dash board and sneered at the sight of his muscles tensing against the driver suit. “Ready to really show off?” He sneered as he pushed his foot on the pedal and forced the engine to roar in agreement. “Fuck, yeah,” he muttered under his breath.

The next run, a bout of tunnel vision struck as Andrew pushed himself fully into the track. The car rumbled under his body, massaging it as the seat adjusted to his needs. The static from the bluetooth radio was soothing. This course was his, and he owned it. He never even noticed the tears and pops sounding in his ears. They were only so much static. He had to stay focused.

He raised an arm and chuckled as he glanced at it. His bare bicep launched into the shape of a hill as he flexed. His beard scraped against his shoulder as he allowed himself a piece of vanity.

The muscle car flexed. He flexed. The car showed off. He showed off. He didn’t know how many times he’d run the course now. He didn’t care. It just felt so damn good.

A dull ringing in his ears finally pulled him out of his trance. The bar was flashing white and blue, and the gas meter had dropped to low.

“All right, Andrew. Come on in. We’re done for today.”

“One more circuit?” he wheedled.

“I said you’re done. We need to run a diagnostic, now that you’ve run the car through the course. Besides, the gym is waiting for you.”

He sighed as he pulled up in front of Boss and stepped out of the car. The tatters of his driver suit dangled in the breeze. Andrew didn’t seem to notice.

“Damn, son,” Boss swore as he took in Andrew’s frame. He walked around the driver, testing the tone and density of Andrew’s muscle. Andrew’s pectorals had evolved into two thick hairy slabs mashed together by broad shoulders. He’d gained at least a half a foot in height, and a chiseled six pack pressed out into the air, while his boxer briefs strained to contain the increased mass that had accumulated in his waist, legs, and crotch.

“Call me Drew, Sir,” Andrew said. “I like it better. It’s simpler, you know?” He let out a low deep guffaw.

Boss tapped a glowing light fixture situated between the cup holders and pressed a button on his observation console. A long tube emerged with a gentle hiss. It glowed a bright blue. Boss pocketed it and smiled as he turned to face his driver. “You made this test a complete success. Thank you, Drew.” He clapped the man heartily on the back. “Now, tell you what. I’ve got a special job in mind for you, one that I think you’re really going to like.”

Drew’s eyes glazed over on the contact. “Whatever you say, Boss,” he droned.

Boss sneered. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Drew smirked cockily in the mirror as he took in his form. The red tank top strained tightly against his muscles. The bleach job in his hair gave him a perfect layered appearance that only added to his raw sexual appeal. He barely suppressed the sneer as the rear doors opened and closed, and the customers gave him directions to where they wanted to go. Just a couple of wimpy kids. They wouldn’t be so wimpy when he was through with them. He pulled out from the curb and pressed the button, just Boss showed him. Then he chuckled as he triggered the system and the lights flared in the back.

“Congratulations, and welcome to the Muscle Cab.”