Lifting Up And Dumbing Down Part 16

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 16

Previous: https://omnitf.tumblr.com/post/174795146417/lifting-up-and-dumbing-down-part-15

“Damn, bro, you’re growing fast,” Duff said as he wrapped a measuring tape around your midriff. “Thanks again for helping me out with this project, by the way.” “No problem. What else are friends for, ‘bro?’” you ask as you smile down at him. His apartment was actually pretty sweet. He’d turned the majority of the studio into an at-home gym, complete with weight rack, dumbbells, a bench press, and a few other accessories. A broad floor-length mirror had been installed on one of the walls, and his kitchen counter was lined with protein whey, creatine, and all manner of other supplements, including a few familiar silver packets. “And how long have you been working on bulking up again?” he asked as he wrote something else on his clipboard. You look up at the ceiling and scratch your head for a moment. “You know what? It’s funny, but I can’t seem to recall the date.” You chuckle. “I’m usually pretty good at that sort of thing. I know it was around midwinter. I think a little before.” Duff shrugged. “I’ll just check the computers for your sign-in date.” “That’ll work,” you agree. “So, what other changes have been happening for you?” You blush. “Well, if we’re being honest, I’m getting a bit ... bigger downstairs, if you catch my meaning, and my voice has been cracking a little.” Duff nodded. “I thought you’d been sounding a little sick lately.” “I’m not sick!” you object. “I said sounded sick, not that you were sick, stupid.” He chuckled. “In other words, I noticed how your voice has been reaching towards deeper registers lately.” “Oh.” You frown a moment, trying to find some problem with that. You’re not quite sure why you are, but ... you are. You’ve been feeling a lot more confrontational lately. “I ... guess that’s okay, then.” You reach back to scratch your head casually. “Thanks for the weights, by the way. They’re a big help.” Duff chuckled. “I thought they would be. There’s nothing quite like a good lifting to work off some stress.” You smile dreamily as you raise an arm to flex. “Yeah, and the pump’s not that bad, either.” Duff smiled. “Sounds like someone’s catching the muscle bug.” You grin impishly, then strike a pose as you pitch your voice as low as you can manage. “I love lifting weights, bro.” Duff punches you in the arm as tears of mirth form in the corners of his eyes. “Stop it,” he laughs. “That’s my line.” He set down the chart. “Besides, you’re not anywhere near this yet,” he smirked as he pulled off his shirt and began to pose. “Are you challenging me to a flex off, sir?” Duff smirked. “And what if I am?” “You cheeky little--.” Soon you’re both posing and flexing like your lives depend on it in front of the mirror. You look curiously at yourself. Your bangs are brushing against the sides of your face, obscuring parts of your vision. You always liked your hair before, but now it just doesn’t seem very ... practical. And it’s a real pain in the a--you catch yourself, before you let that thought complete itself. Pain in the butt. It’s a pain the butt, when the sweat runs down off it and plasters it to your face, especially when it gets in the eyes. Maybe ... maybe it’s time for a change. Change is good. You shudder at the thought, a pleasure that’s redoubled by the sensation of your muscles rippling and shining under the lights. Your head feels sort of fuzzy, and you grin at yourself, before turning your head to stare at your friend. “Hey, Duff?” you ask in that huskier, stuffed-up sort of voice. “You know any good barbers?” Duff turns back to look at you with that same dazed smile. “I think I know a guy. I’ll see about hooking you up.” “Thanks, bro.” It came so effortlessly. Duff’s smile widened. “No problem, bro.” Then Duff shrugged his thick shoulders, and you were back to posing again, just a couple of bros having a friendly competition.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 22

“When I said center yourself, I didn’t mean jump headlong into the persona,” Doctor Schroder chided as she shook her head. “Did you go looking for other recordings, after I took mine back?” “Nope.” You lean back with a confident smirk as you run your hand over your bristling scalp. “I’m just really enjoying the new lifestyle is all. Lifting weights is fun now, and I keep wanting to push myself to be bigger. It’s not just for the sake of the job, and it’s not for the sake of the recordings. I actually, legitimately, want this.” “And the cognitive side of things?” You shrug. “Haven’t noticed too many changes. Sure, I get distracted at home, sometimes, but I’m learning how to find a new balance with that.” “Oh, really?” “When you wake up one evening and realize your entire apartment’s a mess from neglect, you don’t exactly have much choice. I make sure to add cleaning the apartment as a part of my workout routine now. It’s ... a little hit-and-miss sometimes, but I’m working towards that change, and change is good, right?” “It can be, if it’s really you who wants it and not somebody else telling you that you do,” Schroder noted. “Are you certain you want this metamorphosis?” “Doc, it’s not like I’m forgetting who I am and where I came from. I’m legitimately enjoying this. I feel more confident, outgoing, strong.” “And your change in wardrobe?” “If I’m going to focus on a gym-based lifestyle, then I need to wear gym-based clothing. I have a few more casual things for off days, if I want to wear them, and I’m seeing about getting a fitting for some new formal wear. Nothing too fancy, mind you. If I were to get a suit, I’d probably grow out of it in a few weeks.” “You’re putting on weight that quickly?” You shrug. “What can I say? Working out like this has increased my metabolism. And I wasn’t exactly the biggest guy on the block, before I started. I’m just unlocking my potential.” “The natural way, I hope.” All sense of humor drains from you at that comment and you sit up in the couch as you level her with a flat stare. “Hank’s not that kind of trainer, and I’m not that kind of builder. Duff’s already explained what that shit can do to you. There’s no way in hell you’d catch me using.” “I just wanted to be sure. There are those patients I’ve had in my previous work that weren’t willing to work hard for their ‘change,’ as you put it. Needless to say, things ended poorly. Though this does bring us to a rather important segue. You appear to have modified your mode of speech. Why the change to language?” You shrug. “It just feels natural. It slipped out one day, and after that, it just wouldn’t go away. It’s not like I’m cursing at every sentence or anything like that. It just sort of slides out at the right moments.” “And you aren’t feeling any uncharacteristic urges?” You shrug. “Not really. I mean, sure, my testosterone’s gotten a lot higher, so I’m dealing with more aggression and things along those lines, but other than that, I’m doing fine.” “And you’ve been keeping that in check?” “Duff’s been helping a lot with that. He and I usually have some sort of contest or something along those lines, whenever I feel the urge. He’s a good friend and a great competitor. We usually vent those urges with contests at the gym. Who can break whose record, that sort of thing.” “And that’s all fine with you?” “Why wouldn’t it be? We both know it’s just for fun, and we never let it get in the way of our friendship.” “And the haircut?” “Sweat kept streaming down the hair into my eyes,” you shrug, “so I got it buzzed.” “I see. And that’s the only reason?” “Pretty much.” “Well, you do still appear to have retained the majority of your original personality, albeit with certain minor alterations. I’m still not giving you any more recordings, but I think it’s safe enough for us to resume our regular voice coaching sessions.” She laid her clip board aside and curved one leg over the other as she leaned forward. “Now, then, let’s start with Schwarzenegger and move on from there, hmm?” You grin impishly at her as you flex a bicep. “I lift things up and put them down....”

Duff wiped away the tears from the corner of his eye as the mirth-filled laughter finally settled down. “Dude, I can’t believe you can pull that off!” He laughed again. “Come on, try one of his other lines. Do it!” You chuckle, shake your head, and roll your eyes. “Fine.” You clear your throat and tense the muscles along either side, then take a deep breath. “You are terminated.” The laughter resumed again. “I’ll be back.” “Bro! Bro, stop it!” Duff clutched at his sides as the bout of giggles continued. “You asked for it,” you point out. “Any misery you’re suffering is your own fault.” “What a marvel: a voice that can kill with humor!” “Yeah, yeah. Ham it up, why don’t you?” You roll your eyes as you stab your fork into another bite of your rice bowl. “By the way, thanks for the tip on the secret menu. You’re right, the brown rice makes it a lot better.” “Healthier for you, too,” Duff noted. “So, how’re things going with that contract of yours?” “I’ve got my next report photo op coming up.” You shrug. “I think they’ll like the improvements I’ve made.” “Give yourself a few more months. They’ll hardly recognize you.” “I hardly recognize myself sometimes,” you chuckle. “But then again, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” Your eyes drift idly over to where one of the waitresses is busy setting an order down. Her long blond hair cascades down her back in a loose ponytail tied by a hair tie, and her rich green eyes reflect the light like crystal, every time she turns her head. “Not bad at all....” The dull sound of snapping fingers finally brings you back around as you turn to face your friend. “What?” you ask. Your head is feeling that tingly sensation again as you take a sip from your ice water. “Dude, I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last minute.” A smirk pulled at his lips. “You’re crushing hard, aren’t you?” You feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “N-no,” you protest. Duff chuckled. “Bro, you’re worse than I was at the first lunch.” “Curse you and your perceptiveness,” you growl playfully. Duff shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve always been good at my rolls for initiative.” That raised an eyebrow. “You play D&D?” “I’m a DM.” He shrugged. “It helps to pass the time, after homework and workouts are done.” “I’m surprised you don’t have to deal with hostility.” “The guys know me. Just because I’m fit doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into some bully. They know that. And any who don’t know get just one pass. After that, it’s out of the group. We all agreed. We don’t have room for shallow idiots on either side of the spectrum. It’s one thing to role play such a character. It’s another to let that carry over into real life.” “Eegads,” you gasp. “Is that actual confidence I hear?” “Shut up,” Duff laughs as he punches you playfully. “You up for meeting at the gym tomorrow?” “Paired workout?” “Yup.” “Fine, but I call dibs on first run.” “Damn,” you swear, “you’re on a roll today.” Duff smirked. “It’s a gift.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah....”

“It’s a gift, kid. How are we supposed to say no?” The two of you are sitting at your small kitchen table as you look into each other’s faces. The warm air cycling through your ventilation system tickles across your bare chest as it swirls past. “Like this, harry. N-O. It spells no.” You slide the CD back over to him. “Unless it’s specifically stipulated in the contract that I have no choice but to play these tracks in my apartment, I don’t want them.” “But--.” “I’m doing fine on my own, Harry. Look at me!” You strike a double bicep pose and a shudder of pleasure passes over your body. “I already love this. I already want to keep building my muscles. I don’t need some recording telling me that every second of every day. I already know it to be true.” You shake your head. “And as for the acting part, you already know I’m keeping to the regimen. Like it or not, there’s no real need for this anymore.” “The company may not like it.” “The company can stuff it. Hank knows what he’s doing. I’ll be what they need me to be, by the time the filming comes around, but I’m not about to stop being myself either. I like blanking out as much as the next guy during my workouts, but I still need to function in the real world. I’m not about to let myself fall so deeply into the stereotype that I can’t live a normal life. I’m sorry, Harry, but that’s my final answer on the matter.” Harry sighed as he put the case back into an inner pocket on his suit coat. “All right. I’ll let them know. They may not like it, though.” “I think they’ll like what they see tomorrow. You’ll be there for the shoot again, right?” “Naturally. After all, you’re one of my best clients.” “Good. I’ll see you then.” You smile kindly. “Can I interest you in a smoothie, before you go? I found some great recipes online.” “I’ll pass, thanks. Got a date tonight, and I need to save room.” “Ooh, and who’s the lucky lady?” “That, my friend, would be my business.” You chuckle. “Harry’s got game.” You walk over and clap him on the back in congratulations. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” Harry rolled his eyes. “You had to use that one, didn’t you?” “An oldie, but a goodie,” you agree. Harry chuckled as he raised his hands in defeat. “See ya tomorrow, kid.”

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.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 10

“There you are.” You look down at the small rectangular device Doctor Schroder has handed you. “That little thing will help you focus and make certain behavioral changes in your life to speed up the process as you change your body. As in all things with hypnosis, it will only work if you want it to work. The tracks are labeled, and I’ve included a master list here for you to know which tracks do what. They’re sectioned off by waking and sleeping. And as you can see, each of the waking tracks is further divided for different functions and actions: working out, diet, that sort of thing.” “And all I have to do is push the track number?” “Yup. The rest will take care of itself. I’ve also included a few temporary tracks for the sake of role playing. They’ll allow you to slip into various characters within the muscular stereotypes, while you’re at home. Take the time to get familiar with each of them. Once you find the one that fits you best, I advise you try leaning towards that. Then again, I’m not the director, so you may want to keep using all of them, in case the one you like isn’t the one the director prefers.” “And that’s it?” “Pretty much. From here on out, it’s up to you to brush up on each of the characters and learn how to talk and act like them. My purpose from this point onward is to simply help guide you to achieve the optimal expression of those stereotypes.” “And do we have enough time to work on some of those now?” “Plenty. Why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on thus far, and we’ll move forward from there?”

Duff cocked his head as he peered at you. You felt a little embarrassed at such scrutiny, despite how that was your main form of income. “You’re definitely different,” he mused. “It’s subtle, but I can see a little progress.” “It’s only been a week. How can I make progress that fast?” you counter. “I’m not pulling your leg, man. Just telling you my opinion.” “Sure you are.” “If you two are done chatting, it’s time for cardio,” Hank grated. “Move, kid.” The treadmill proved a refreshing exercise, after all the strain you’d put your body through the previous week. Duff pulled out an i-pod and laid it on a rest next to the controls, before threading a set of ear buds out and connecting them to the port. The rest of the run was sort of lonely as Duff stared ahead at the wall, but you couldn’t exactly blame him. The way Hank had you running, it wouldn’t have been too feasible to get a conversation going, anyways. After the warmup, he pushed you to your limits, focusing on endurance training once again. When all was said and done, you were ready to head home and shower again. You waved to Duff, but he seemed a little too distracted to respond. Some of the other builders were approaching him, and it looked like they were engaging in some sort of conversation. You shrugged it off and figured you’d text the guy later. It was only natural he’d have other friends in the gym, after all. He was a lot farther along in his progress.

That night, you peered up at the fathead of a vascular bodybuilder in a tight set of compression gear that clung to every meaty curve. You’d received it courtesy of Duff. According to the card info, he wanted to be able to give you something to work towards, but was too embarrassed to do it directly. Kinda weird for him to have done something like this when you’ve only known each other for about a week or so, but you weren’t about to argue about it. The guy was so sweet, after all. The builder smoldered down at you, an unspoken challenge in that harsh gaze as he pumped a pair of massive dumbbells. Your CHANGE IS GOOD sign stood out prominently on his chest. You look into those eyes one more time and chuckle to yourself as you reach for your lamp. “Goodnight, meathead.” You pause a moment. “Hmm. ‘Goodnight, meathead.’ Not a bad motivator,” you muse. You decide to print it up later. Then you chuckle as you flick off the light. Maybe you’ll dream again. As that thought crosses your mind, a familiar tingle runs faintly over your body. You can’t help but smile as you start to fade off. “I think I’d like that,” you yawn, then curl up on your side, and let the darkness take you.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 21

You stare at the poster on the wall, uncertain as to which may prove the best style for you. There were so many to choose from! You knew you wanted short. That much was certain. But just what kind of short would really suit you? Did you want the high and tight, the flat top, a simple buzz cut, maybe some kind of crew cut? Whatever it was, you knew you wanted short. It was just so hard to choose with all the possibilities! The comforting buzz of electric razors at work hummed cheerfully in the background as they sawed through hair follicles to the tune of soft jazz. You could already feel a sympathetic tingling in your scalp as the sound permeated through your ears. Then came the sound of smart shoes clattering against the laminate tiles as Harry approached from behind. “So, you decide yet, kid?” he asked. You shake your head mutely. He whistled. “Sure is a lot to choose from, isn’t there?” “Don’t remind me,” you reply glumly. Your long-sleeved Underarmor shirt hugs tightly to your frame and you take a certain amount of comfort in that constant embrace. Every time you moved, it was like someone was giving you a massage, rubbing over each muscle, and it felt so very good. You couldn’t understand why you’d never had more of these shirts in your wardrobe to begin with. Harry chuckled, and the crown on his head shone as he wagged it back and forth. “You know, kid, you could always ask the barber what he thinks would look best. He is a professional, after all. The company recommended him specifically for you.” You furrow your brow a moment. “Why ... would they do that?” “Do what?” “Why would they recommend a specific barber? There are plenty of others out there. Why this one, in particular?” Harry shrugged. “He may not look it, but the guy’s trained in more than barber school. He’s a former stylist for all sorts of events. Fashion week, Couture, movies. You name it, he’s done it. The man’s a genius. He always seems to know just the right look for his clients to get into character. You sway on your feet as a bout of dizziness overwhelms you. Were it not for Harry’s swift reflexes, you probably would’ve faceplanted. You’re dimly aware of the steadying arm wrapped around your own as you’re led, stumbling, to a padded leather chair. You feel a gentle breeze on your face, and something is shoved into your moth. You clamp onto it and suck, filling your mouth with the familiar taste of vanilla and cinnamon. “Easy, kid. Easy,” Harry soothes. The dizziness subsides. “That’s it. Relax. Just relax.” You gulp heavily, until the familiar rapid staccato of air rushing with the last dregs of liquid pounds through the room. You sigh as you fall back into the chair, and are pleasantly surprised to feel a head rest cradling your neck as your shoulders slump. “What just...?” you ask slowly. “Dizzy spell. You’re all right now,” Harry promised. “Barry here’s gonna take care of you. You can’t help but chuckle. “Harry and Barry, huh?” Harry smiled. “He’s gonna be okay.” “Good. I’d hate for my client to have to run, before I even get the chance to handle him.” You feel your chair swivel, and suddenly you’re facing a veritable Adonis. His golden hair was perfectly coiffed with a natural wave that formed on his right side to jut up into the air. His skin was a healthy tan and his face was rounded, almost heart-shaped. His white teeth practically radiated confidence as he bore them in a smile. His long white sleeves are rolled up around his biceps to highlight the light dusting of golden hairs along his arms that accentuated each curve of well-toned muscle perfectly. His deep blue eyes were an incredible sight, the kind you might have killed for, back when you were more focused on your modeling career. Well, it’s not like you aren’t still focused. It’s just ... not on those aspects anymore. You’ve been too busy focusing on your body. And ... well, the results speak for themselves. You can bench a good 140 pounds now. The repetitive clank of the weights, the burn as you feel the muscles working to tear and repair over and over again. That same process over and over.... “Hello? Earth to,” Harry calls your name. You blink blearily as you turn to face him. “Huh? Oh, sorry, Harry. Was kinda lost in thought.” Well, not so much lost as visiting a happy place. You never thought you’d consider all that effort as enjoyable, but now you find yourself almost longing for those exercises. A body is a machine, and your machine was designed to LIFT. “One of those, is it?” Barry asked in a bored tone. “It is what it is,” Harry said with a shrug. “Bosses want him to look the part.” “Well, he’s certainly well on his way to acting it,” Harry mused as he stroked his smooth chin. “How long?” “He’s been training for about the last two months.” “And how much has he gained?” “See for yourself.” You watch in that twilit sort of daze as Harry passes a phone to the man. He passes his finger along the screen a few times, and Barry lets out a whistle. “He has potential.” “That’s what I told them. Kid’s a hard worker.” “What can I say? I love to work out.” You shrug your shoulders casually. Barry pursed his lips as he considered you. “I see.” He walked over and stared at you closely, occasionally cocking his head to the side. “I’m going to touch you for a moment. Please don’t get upset. I just need to check your facial structure to be sure.” “Sure?” “Of what types of styles would work best for you,” he clarified as he reached forward and started probing at your cheeks, your neck, your jaw. “Hmm ... yes, yes. I think I have it now.” He withdrew and started stroking his chin again as he paced. “You, my friend, are most definitely a square type.” “Hey!” He rolled his eyes. “Square in facial structure, not in the insulting kind of way.” “Oh.” You chuckle nervously. “Sorry.” You’re such a dumbass. That dreamy smile returns again as you think that word, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Hmm. Yes, I think I know just the kind of cut you need,” Barry mused. “Something ... simple, low maintenance.” “I like simple.” “Of course you do,” he says offhandedly. “Um, excuse me, Barry. Can I pay up now?” A smaller, more reserved young man with black hair and a smooth part that shone with pomade looked timidly up at the man. A simple sweater vest hugged over a creamy white long-sleeved shirt. “Oh, but of course, Alexander. Forgive me. I completely forgot.” “N-no problem, really. I don’t mind waiting, if you need me to,” the boy said hastily. Barry’s smile widened. “Nonsense. A good young man like you deserves to be treated fairly, after that terrible ordeal in juvie. You’re a proper reformed citizen now, aren’t you?” “Yes,” Alexander said dreamily. “A proper reformed citizen.” He held out a twenty dollar bill, which Barry was only too happy to pocket.  “And do try to remember to stay with the right sort of people this time, won’t you?” Barry asked. “Of course, Sir.” Alexander’s smile widened into a dopey grin as he clicked his polished leather boots together and gave a smart salute. Barry chuckled. “Off you go now, my boy. I’m certain your parents must be anxious to see you again.” “Oh, right. Thanks again, Barry!” Alexander waved happily as he snatched his jacket off the coat rack and made his way out the door into the snowdrifts to a waiting sheriff's car. Barry sighed happily. “Ah, youth. I love seeing them make the right sort of choices again.” Then he turned back to you. “Now, then, let’s get started on your haircut, shall we?” He clicked a button on a remote and the lights dimmed as a familiar whirring began to play over the speakers. The buzzing of the razor left you feeling loopy as the vibrations carried from the first contact, seeping deep into the nerves along your scalp and neck. You roll your eyes back in delight as the room starts to spin. “In the professional circuit, we like to call this style the induction cut. Why don’t you just lean back, relax, and I’ll tell you all about it....”

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 12

“... You’re slipping now. Slipping down and down as you listen to my voice. Down and down. Deeper and deeper. And it feels so very good, so very relaxing as you listen. The more you listen, the better you feel. The better you feel, the deeper you go. Letting go now as you descend into that muted darkness, into that peaceful trance. “Ten. Feeling so good.” You find yourself sighing heavily as you hear the familiar thock of the metronome echoing over and over in your head. “Nine. Slipping farther as your legs stop wanting to move. So heavy. So relaxed as you go deeper and deeper, feeling better and better as you listen to my voice.” And you are feeling better. Thock. Relax. Thock. deeper. Thock. Listen. Thock. Deeper. Each stroke is so rhythmic, measured. It reminds you of the weights clacking at the gym. “Eight. Deep breaths. You want to listen to me. Listening as that heaviness spreads to your lower body. It’s getting harder and harder to remain upright. How about you just lay back against the couch? It would be so much easier than sitting up, and then you can listen more, without all that weight, without all that strain to distract you. And it will feel so good when you do, won’t it? Like when you collapse into bed, after a long workout.” You’re not sure when you started letting your body sag against the back of the couch, but you shudder in pleasure as a flood of relief flows through your limbs. “Seven. No distractions. No worries. Just listening to me. Just listening to the sound of my voice as I guide you deeper and deeper. And it feels so good. You don’t want to stop, do you?” “No,” you sigh. “That’s right. You don’t. You want this. You want to listen. You love how good I make you feel. And that means you should keep listening to me, because I make you feel good.” “Yeah....” “Six. Feel the tension flowing out of your body. Feel your thinking slowing, slowing as it’s flowing, flowing out your body. Flowing away with the stress. Flowing, like my voice through your ears as you listen. Flowing louder as you fall deeper. Flowing until it’s all you can hear, all you want to hear. “All I ... want....” you mumble as the world retreats into that strange twilight sort of place. Her voice echoes and babbles in your ears, like water flowing through a cave. “Five. You love the sound of my voice. It’s good to listen, isn’t it? You want to immerse yourself in it, don’t you?” “Yes.” So good. Feels so good. “Four. Flowing over you as you fall deeper and deeper, flowing like a river over you as you descend, washing away all thought, all fear, all hesitation. You are giving in to the current. You are letting it take you where it wants, and it wants to go deeper, so you want to go deeper.” By now, you can hardly hold your head up. “Deep...er....” “Good. Three. No longer resisting the flow. Letting go as I speak to you. Listening to my guiding voice. We are flowing to that perfect place, that place of absolute stillness, where your mind is perfectly open, open to me, open to my voice, open to listen, open to obey. Because when you listen to me, you are obeying me. And listening feels good, so obeying also feels good.” “Good....” Her words are lapping over you like a massage, and it feels heavenly. “You will obey.” “I will ... obey....” Obedience is listening. Listening is obeying. Listening feels good, so obeying feels good. Makes sense. The flow is taking you where you want to go, and where you want to go is where the voice is taking you. “You will obey me. Can you repeat that for me?” “I will obey you....” A new thrill of pleasure washes over you as your body slumps further in the couch. You can’t even feel its fabric anymore. You’re floating, and it feels so good floating, listening, letting go.... “Two. So close now. Letting go of all conscious thought, all will. Surrendering it to me, because you listen to me, because you obey me. You’re nearing a final curve in your downward slope. We’re almost at that perfect spot. Slip deeper. Listen harder. Relax. Obey.” And you do obey. You can hardly muster the effort to bob your head as it slumps forward, lolling over your chest. “One. Turning so gently, so slowly, into that final curve. Slow, like your mind, slow like your breathing. Slow and deep. Deeper and deeper. So deep in my voice that you can’t possibly imagine leaving it without my help. Floating into that sea of my voice, that gentle place that laps against you in waves, caressing you, filling you with pleasure to just listen and accept, listen and obey.” It feels so right. A dull smile pulls at the corner of your mouth. “Zero.” You’re floating, surrounded by that beautiful, sweet voice lapping at your ears. You are immersed in darkness, that quiet nothingness that feels so good as you just ... exist. No need to think. No need to act. Just relaxing. Just sitting. Just waiting. “Tell me the truth. Can you hear me?” A command. Must listen. Must obey. “Yes,” you say in a low voice. “Have you been listening to your recordings?” “Some. The pre-workout tracks make me feel excited. I enjoy those.” “And the night tracks?” “Tried a little. Haven’t done much with ‘em yet.” “How come?” “Noise makes it hard to sleep. Brain keeps stayin’ up. Used to sleep, but now my body’s adjusted, I’m not that tired anymore.” “Listen closely,” the voice ordered. “You will listen to those tracks every night. They will no longer bother you. In fact, they will help you sleep.” “But ... they don’t.” “Not yet,” the voice corrected. “The more you listen to them, the easier it will be to sleep with them. Every night you will listen to them. Every night, they will help you to sleep. Every night, you will fall asleep sooner with the track, because you are adjusting to it. It is natural. It is a part of your nightly routine.” “Natural ... routine....” “Every night.” “Every night,” you repeat. “Tell me, what must you do with the tracks?” “Play them every night.” “Because you want to.” “I ... want to....” “Every night.” “Every night....” “You want to every night.” “I ... want to ... every night....” “Good boy. Now then, let’s get to work on a little motivation....”