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Most people look at a dude like this and they almost instantly turn tail and run. The size of those glorious arms alone and that broad bulging chest are enough to make sure that no one would ever mess with a dude like Charlie.
Professional Bodybuilder, Champion Boxer, Strong labourer; the ideal rolemodel for the Big Dumb Jock Boy archetype. But most people who got to know him found out pretty quickly that he was such a gentle giant. All of that beef protecting a soft heart and the most supportive personality you could find. The best bro anyone could ask for. The kind of guy who ends up all lovey-dovey and on his ass in the street after a few pints, and then you’ve gotta find a construction crane to lift the big lug home somehow.

But what fewer people knew is what went on behind the soft doe-eyes of the Gentle giant. That every waking moment was accompanied by dark desires and suggestions whispering in his ears, like Abyssal monsters just waiting to drag him down into depths of trance that some people could only imagine. He was a Hypnotist’s dream come true. So easy you could literally just *SNAP* and he’d be out like a Big dumb lightbulb.

But being so easy means he always had to be extra discerning of who he worked with, who he talked to, even who he followed online for fear that they would just end up using him, abusing him and throwing him away like a piece of meat. People saw muscles like his and seemingly forgot that there was a mind behind them, albeit a very weak and very kind one.

He just wanted a bro who he could trust. Someone who could sate those hungering abyssal tendrils and lusts that bubbled just beneath the smiling surface.

Just when he thought all hope was lost, that someone manifested. Almost like his own internal abyss had brought that perfect bro into existence.

He was smart, kind, super good at getting that gentle giant to follow along with his words. What more could he ask for?

Astonishing what changes a year can bring; how just a short time using his Bro’s files and having his mind rearranged for growth could result in such a massive realignment of his life. It was the subtle changes in himself that he adored the most.

The confidence and sureness with which he held himself now that he had the physical and mental power to dominate the room.
How his nipples had slowly started to point downward as the heaving mass of his pecs would soon be too impressive to see over.
The way shirts that hung loose over his humble frame just a year ago now strained against the breadth of his shoulders and back threatening at any moment to go threadbare and split apart exposing his body for all the world to see and admire.

  It was that intoxicating mixture of Muscle-bound reality and fantasy that now consumed his mind. Never before in his life had the line been so blurred, the muscle growth fantasies of just a few years ago turning into the visceral, physical, orgasmic reality of the present; it finally seemed like he could have everything he ever wanted..as long as everything he’d ever wanted involved muscle and growth. That wasn’t nearly as big a restriction as it was last year, hell it wasn’t a restriction at all; it was a challenge, practically a dare taunting him and goading him on more and more in this battle…and he was winning!

Everyone had fallen into cycles and rhythms during the past year, but where most people’s involved a steady stream of anxiety, Bad television, and social media. His had consisted of an almost perfect cycle of Waking up and checking his progress in the mirror, Flexing and almost losing himself in his own love of muscular perfection. Hitting the gym and  working out so hard that the pain of the pump came full circle into an afterglow that was better than every time he made love combined. Flexing and letting it send shivers down his spine. Eating to make his body grow and then going to sleep to rest his muscles for the next cycle. The only reason he even bothered dragging himself into work was to pay for the supplements and gym fees that fed his habit, like a Junkie desperately jonesing for any way to scratch that itch and fuel that addiction.

He had no passion for his work, he only had a passion for growth and muscle. He knew deep down he would do absolutely anything to get bigger and sate that Lust for Growth. Every once in a while as a little treat, a present for hitting the next milestone in his development, he would go back to the Bro that started it all and regale him with fantasies and desires that could be turned into reality through his words and suggestion like the alchemists of old turning lead into gold.

The sum he paid was a pittance for everything he had received from it, all of the pleasure and mind-boggling brilliance he had flooded his brain with for a year, and he knew in his heart of hearts he would pay as much as was needed to make his fantasies a reality.

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I’m telling you bro, ever since I started hitting the gym more and embracing my place at the top of the Hierarchy shits been fucking AMAZING for me. God…I can barely even remember a couple months ago when I was like you…Huh? Yeah bro, that’s what I said, like you. A fucking Beta, but that was before something powerful opened my eyes.
Ha! What did I offend you? Good, maybe that’ll get your ass in gear to grab hold of your superiority instead of wasting it like so many other potential Alphas…Bro what did you just say?! Oh my god you sound like such a whiny bitch ‘whaT MAkes yOU THiNk yOu’Re So greaT?’. Sit your weak ass down before I put you in your place. Just look at me. You wish you looked this good. Fuck bro, I don’t blame you for feeling jealous, I’d be jealous of me too. Heck, I spent half an hour today in the bathroom mirror just admiring myself, thinking about how much more I’m gonna grow, and beating my meat to this perfection.
Yeah I know I’m not some big stud yet, but I also know what I’m entitled to. I know that I’m destined to be a fucking God, bro and nothing’s gonna stop me. Everyone around me knows it too. They can sense it just being around me. They can smell it in the air after I finish a work out, all those potent pheromones and testosterone permeating the air. They can see it in my eyes, the dominance and cockiness of a Demigod, knowing that I am just naturally better than them. I mean bro, I live with this fag and he fully recognizes my supremacy. Total submission. Practically bends over and grovels at my feet every time I enter the room. Always staring at my dick when I walk around in the buff. Regularly comes into my room so I can rearrange his insides and screams about how much better I am compared to his partner…Huh bro, now that I say it..isn’t your boyfriend my roommate too? Yeah that makes sense.
I guess you’ve got two options then. You can kneel and accept your place on the hierarchy knowing you’ll never measure up to me, or you can go to the guy who awoke this power inside of me and seize your Alpha destiny. It’s your choice, but just know, there is no turning back.

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Black…
White…
Black…
White…
The colours of the spiral painted patterns over their brain, sinking into their psyche and making them feel things They had never felt in their life. Such overwhelming peace and tranquility mingling with an underlying sensuousness. The words of the man behind the screen were enticing to begin with, painting a mindscape with such vivid realism that even their usually sound and objective mind began to follow them into that fantasy.

But once the spiraling vortex of monochrome flashed before their eyes the world just flipped for them. They were no longer just experiencing a nice little fantasy; they were living their new life of submission and obedience to the trance. “My words are truth. My words are reality” It was so true. So real. Did they even need to be reminded of it?

All cares and responsibility were surrendered, sucked into the spiral and devoured by the abyss in their head. Resistance was futile. Like a single light trying to illuminate an infinite inky black abyss. They weren’t even afforded the chance to fight back, not that they would ever want to combat something so pure and perfect and good as their master’s influence.

When did they get naked? How long were they sitting there? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered and just as soon as those thoughts popped into their mind they were swiftly whisked away by the words of their master. They didn’t need to think. It was best never to think. Happier. Safer. The mind-numbing bliss of trance was so fulfilling. A cure to all their problems. What problems? What problems could they ever have in such a perfect state?

The spiral was all that they wanted; all that they needed. The only thing in their world besides the voice that rang in their ears and felt like melted chocolate, smooth and rich trickling down into the deepest parts of their mind. Each syllable and suggestion felt like it scratched an itch and so they would gladly roll over and expose themselves if it meant getting more of that perfect spiral. More of that infinite abyss.

They wanted to submit. They wanted to serve. They wanted to “Obey, Obey, Obey” as their master said. But they weren’t even given that chance. The screen before them stopped, cut so abruptly that it hurt. They wanted so much more. There wasn’t even a goodbye. They could feel that pang of longing aching in their chest for more. The haze of trance hadn’t lifted from their mind. They simply sat there for ages, head lolling back and eyes glazed over like a doll left without someone to play with it. They sat there begging and hoping that the spiral would come back. They needed the spiral. Unconsciously their arm rose and clicked the button to start the experience all over again.

They needed the Black…
White…
Black…
White…

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He used to hate the word “bro”. It’d always seemed to degrade him, like an insult including him in as one of a number of big dumb idiots. He never felt the warmth and chumminess of being a bro whenever he was called that in the past…but things were different now.

He understood finally that what he was feeling was not distaste at the word or the thought of being a perfect Jock bro; it was simply a sense of unworthiness. An unconscious shame that made him feel unready to take on that title. He realized that, almost without his noticing, he had begun to take the title as his own, and fuck did it feel good.

Another jock at the gym passed him and gave him that nod of respect, intoning almost like a mantra the sacred title “Sup Bro!” and in an unconscious haze he would reply “Sup Bro.” back like a preprogrammed response. It didn’t require thought or consent or even much effort on his part. It was practically muscle memory at this point, imparted by the files and hypnotic induction that he had submitted himself too.

And for such little effort it provided so much instant relief and gratification. Every person who acknowledged him as a “Bro” or a “Dude” or a “Stud” reaffirmed him and made him feel seen, like he was actually progressing, reaching his goals and becoming more and more of a perfect jock. He’d never felt more alive in his entire life as he kept getting bigger and stronger, more of a bro. The heat of people’s lingering eyes on his skin, the feeling of working out and having his muscle pump and strain and flex as he forced them to grow; and best of all when people actually commented on his size. Friends, Family members, Gym buds; their eyes would open wide and they’d always say something along the lines of “Fuck dude, when did you get so big!”.
Best of all was when his mother noticed, the fact that even she was taken aback by how quickly her ‘little boy’ had grown made his head spin and his whole body light up with pleasure and excitement, like the most exquisite high. It filled him with an even more intense drive to grow, to workout, to feel the strain of gym gear against his growing flesh until everyone would affirm him like that. These compounding experiences of growth and validation, of worship from his bros and of acknowledgement from the world made him fully realize and submit to the truth.

He was a Bro, Bro. He had been inducted into that secret order of perfect growing jocks without his knowing and it felt so fucking amazing, like a new life he was ready to begin. The word Bro no longer filled him with distaste and disgust, Bro. It made him feel pride, Bro. Proud of himself for growing beyond the expectations of anyone in his life, and proud to be one of that special fraternity of jocks, Bro.

But even though he was proud of all of this, he had never anticipated it, Bro. He had never expected that submitting to the abyss and breaking his mind would affect his life so much, Bro. He wondered how much further programming would come from the files and just what other secrets might be buried beneath seemingly simple suggestions, Bro.

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The urge would hit him even in the oddest places. That undeniable need to feel his muscles burn and his body grow. It’d strike him at home, at school, and now even in the lounge of an airport terminal on his way to see his friend.

In those moments he’d try to deny it. Focus on something else or find some excuse to do it another time. Those protests were in vain because he knew he couldn’t refuse the programming that had wormed its way into his very core. Programming from his master who had broken that weak little gem called his mind and reshaped it into a more beneficial image. The more he tried to refuse the calls in his mind of his master’s voice, an echo that told him to “Grow. Lust. Build your body More and more and more”, the more that distracting obsession would cloud his mind and a heat would rise up from his loins that would make it absolutely undeniable. His mind would Break under the weight of the resistance and in the end he would submit to the desire to workout. To flex. To grow. And each time he did, even if it was something as simple as pushups on the floor of the airport, the immense rush of satisfaction and pleasure he’d get would just strengthen his conditioning more and more; like a well trained puppy salivating at the sound of a bell.

It felt so good! He’d never worked out this much in his life, and in a few short days, his new master had him pumping out reps like a lunatic whenever he got the chance. Soon he found new compulsions that directed him to workout. Finish a class? 30 sit ups. Speak to Master? 100 squats. Feel a rush of arousal stirring his cock to get harder and harder? 20 push ups. He found himself doing a lot of push ups stirred on by the relentless flow of thoughts about muscle, growth and the attainment of a new, better body for his master. He could already feel it. The firmness in his chest, the sculpture of his abs. Each rep and each day brought him closer and closer to that dream of muscular perfection. He’d rise from the floor and without prompting almost involuntarily flex his worked muscles, feeling the plump, pumped fibers ripple and contract beneath his skin. He could feel them growing beneath his very fingers, envisioning the huge sculpted body he would have soon enough. It was even being noticed by others, his transformation and new found “dedication to fitness” being taken note of. Little did they know it was fueled by the deliberate, powerful programming of his master.

It all sent shivers down his spine and his eyes would roll back and he’d almost immediately have to drop and do 20 more push ups once again; forced to obey the commands of his master, and his leaking, throbbing member. His Lust for growth was all encompassing and he loved every second of it. 

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Nothing mattered to him as the words of the file slipped into his mind. The trance lulled him down and down and down until his surroundings were nothing more than a distant memory fading into the background in comparison to the hyper-realism and power of his master’s suggestions.

They echoed and stayed with him long after the file had stopped. The only thing he could focus on was how fucking good everything felt. Everything, from the remaining buzz of the Binaural in his ears to the few thoughts rattling around in his mind that he wasn’t even completely sure were his thoughts to begin with.

“You are a Muscle Pup”.

Fuck that thought felt so good! Like a jolt of pure arousal shot into his heart. His mind was suddenly assaulted with urges that made his cock twitch and his eyes glaze over with a dumb, blissful fog. He wanted…no- He NEEDED to be the best possible Muscle pup for his master. It came to him like an obsession, this love of his body and this overwhelming desire to bring pleasure to people with it, and to get pleasured in return. He knew he was sexy, his body thick with pumped muscle that would draw the eye and make people stare. He was an object of sexual desire, especially his own as his arousal grew the more he acknowledged his sexual allure. Horny and Muscular, obsessed with pleasure, like a true muscle pup should be.

His cock leaked through his pants as he fixated on one particular aspect of his life. Muscle. Working out. His mind swirled with the combined desire for more Muscle on his sexy Muscle pup body, as well as more pleasure and gratification to sate his appetite. No unrelated thoughts penetrated through this wall of Muscle obsession and arousal. He could envision himself as the perfect Muscle pup, sculpted and toned and beefy as a modern Adonis, not only for himself, but for the rest of the world. The world needed his muscular perfection, so he must grow to bring pleasure to all of the other pups who loved to see his growth.

And still his master’s words echoed in his head “You are a Muscle pup” And without thinking he responded “I am a Muscle pup…” Almost a pre-programmed response to a mental trigger. “You are a Muscle Pup” The voice felt so good, like a low rumble that massaged his brain. “I am a Muscle Pup” It felt more certain this time, like a longing desire that descended into a moan of sexual frustration. He was so preoccupied with his state of growing erotic bliss that he didn’t even notice his body’s movement without his consent; his hand rising up to massage his thick juicy pecs. His fingers on skin and kneading into muscle made him shiver and yearn for more. The final call felt like a bomb of excitement and stimulation went off in his head. “You are a Muscle Pup” “I am a Muscle Pup!” This time he knew it to be true subconsciously and in the depths of his being. He was so focused on actualizing his master’s command that he didn’t even notice the wellspring of pleasure that he derived from the minor act of flexing his biceps, feeling the nerves in the muscle spark and fire with pure arousal almost better than the orgasmic burst that he just experienced in his pants.

But Muscle pup didn’t recognize any of it. Muscle pup was too focused on thoughts of working out, finding pleasure, and obeying his master’s words.

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“Bro” The word sent shivers down his spine. “Bull Bro” The bestial designation that he had been assigned by that special file. Everything just shifted, his priorities and his mind completely rearranged to suit his new reality.

He was a Bull bro, he felt better than he had felt in so long. He finally had a point. He had a Purpose. Something to live for and drive him. The Herd. He lived his life for the herd. His old friends became a new group, set apart from him. They were still friends, but they weren’t the herd. The Herd would support him. The Herd would motivate him to continue to build his strength and his body. Fuuuck! His body. The instant awareness of his physicality overwhelmed him.

He felt huge. He felt strong, like an animal ready and raring to put every last ounce of  beefy muscle into lifting heavy and working out for The Herd. “The Herd”. A new concept that rattled about in his head. He felt such a powerful draw towards it. To protect the ones around him with his growing strength, but also to follow along with the will of his Bros. He felt so stupid, like his mind couldn’t even fathom the concept of doing things alone or thinking for himself. But instead of fighting that feeling, he just succumbed to that reality. He was a dumb strong Bull bro. And that was alright. It was great in fact!

He didn’t have to try to be smart when he just accepted that literally everyone else around him was smarter in so many ways. Better at school, better at making decisions, especially his coach who opened his mind and branded him as a newborn Bull. He felt the smile inch across his face as acceptance of his place in the world washed over him. He was just a dumb bull, desperately longing for a Herd of other dumb bulls. He needed the herd to motivate him and direct him in his life, to clothe him. Train him, Grow him. Love him.

He felt the muscles ripple in his back, acutely aware of the potential he held within his body. Potential to grow beyond what he was now into that massive, sexy bull. Even in flexing now he felt his body pump up, thrilled and excited to get to work. He closed his eyes and just felt himself, every nerve and extremity. The way his body tapered down to his narrow waist. The curve of his arms through his biceps and triceps. His pecs that would soon grow into juicy muscle tits. A bouncing bubble butt. And his back that he dreamed would expand into a glorious wingspan. He envisioned it all, the future of his growth.

His future with his herd.

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