The workout and practice were the best he’d ever had. He’d been so pumped and focused. His body responded to every order his Coach gave, half the time before he’d even had a chance to realize he’d heard the command. Man he loved the skin suit and Coach was right, it was going to change his life.
You say you’re so smart. Well, I need you to use your brain for a minute. Trust me on this one. I know you’ll like it. Use your supposedly big brain to figure this one out. Think about it, think about it real hard. I know you don’t want to, that it goes against what you want to be, but do it. This will be the last time you have to, I promise. I’m going to ask you a question and I want you think about it as hard as you have ever thought about anything before. Like it’s the hardest philosophical question you’ve ever heard. You know the kind, the one that’s just the tiniest bit too hard for your brain to wrap itself around. You’re scrabbling at the edges, but you just can’t figure it out.
What is stupid? Don’t tell me what it isn’t. Answer my question with what stupid is. Can you? Because it’s kind of like when you think of a word over and over and over and it starts to lose meaning. Stupid is a weird word, because it sounds kinda funny. Huhuhuh. The more you think about it, the harder it is to actually think about it. You keep trying to return to the point where you lost track, but it’s harder to think about where exactly that was – oh yeah
What is stupid? The definition of it. Don’t go look in the dictionary, don’t Google it. Okay, fine. I know you already did. “lacking intelligence or common sense.” But see, that’s doing it again – that’s telling me what stupid isn’t. I wanna know what stupid is. It’s an inverse quantity, it’s like a black hole, it sucks you right down into it. Before you know it, you’ve been staring at the screen for a full minute. Where did that time go? Stupid.
Not like it’s a virus or anything. Can’t catch stupid, even though sometimes you do hear people say that it can “rub off.” Wouldn’t that be funny, if stupid rubbed off on people? Kinda like if someone just bumped into someone stupid and said to you, “watch where you’re going, stupid,” and well, all you can do is laugh. Huhuhuh.
And now look how long you’ve spent trying to think of what stupid is, rather than what it isn’t. It’s been plaguing me lately, keeps popping up in my head as I go about my day, as I walk to work or eat my lunch, sometimes even on the job. It just floats into my head, casually, stupid. Or sometimes its cousin, dumb. Sometimes both of them at the same time, and then I realize I forgot to give the customer back their change, or I forgot where I was going, or what I was going to do. One of my friends the other day even asked what was going on. I seemed a little … preoccupied. I was. I was too busy thinking stupid. I mean, about stupid. I know that if I just use my brain to figure it out, I will figure it out. I mean, it’ll come to me. Stupid. Man, that really is a funny sounding word huh. Stupid. I like dumb too cuz when it hums when you say it. Dummmmmmmmb. Huhuhuh.
Fuck. What was I doing before I started this? I can’t remember. Goddamnit, stupid got me again. I’ll never get stupid. I’m too smart.
Or something.
Hard to believe there had ever been a day when he hadn’t belonged to the gym.
Hard to believe that he was ever so reluctant to belong to the gym.
Like staring into a foggy mirror, squinting, to see the blurry outline of himself in his memory.
Who is that guy?
Was, the answer comes back. Who was that guy.
Who cares, is his immediate reaction, shrugging it off like water droplets in the shower. He flexes and remembers who he is now, and how he got there. The face of determination and discipline. The same face he wears now. Started small, ended up big. His subconsciously-formed grin when he remembers the first comments he started getting when his gains began to show. “Oh my god, have you been working out?” That old chestnut. And, “holy shit bro, sun’s out, guns out!” Something he himself had taken to saying, tossing it out nonchalantly as he walked around his apartment or neighborhood in a tank. Before, it had always seemed stupid, such a dumbass phrase, but now he understood why it was so popular, why it had caught on. And every time he remembered that he understood, he was compelled to flex. Compelled is the wrong word for it. It wasn’t out of his control. The thought just came to him and he simply did it.
He had developed a fetish for sneakers, for hats, for gear, for brands, but before, it didn’t make sense on him. There was a disconnect. His “Beast Mode” and “Education is Important but Big Biceps Are Importanter” tanks hung loose on his frame, like listless flags run up a pole. His Nike sneakers and wristbands seemed just somehow out of place on him, but he had such a longing, such a need. He even started turning the brim on his baseball caps backwards, yet couldn’t explain why. Those were all signs, he knew now. He was acting out, he was surfacing. The last step was to belong to the gym. It took him a little longer than it should have, but with the help of a fellow jock (fellow jock! the first time he was called that, and the giddy falling-away of things, the excitement & anticipation of becoming, of transforming!) he signed up and began. The surge he got on that first day of the gym was electric, popping and zinging in his muscles, a stinging, hot burn, and he was exultant the entire day after. His slightly obsessive personality latched on to the gym almost immediately, and it wasn’t long before he had moved up to bigger and better weight sets, developed a routine. Confidence flowed in, high tide. How he walked changed. Even how he spoke mellowed, relaxed. Soon enough, from confidence sprouted swagger. Swag. Another dumbass phrase he suddenly understood. One of his t-shirts reads “Swag Recognize Swag,” and that’s true, he thought. He does, and can, where he couldn’t, before.
Now, things are so much different. His routine is entirely changed, and for the better. He lives for that span of time in the day when he goes to the gym. He belongs to the gym. Everything else seems like it falls away when he goes to the gym, plugs in his earbuds, and gets to lifting. Things matter less outside the gym. The rest of life is a little paler when he’s not at the gym, though life is illuminated when someone asks him about his routine, or his gains. He comes to life, blooms like a sunrise in time-lapse. He can talk about the gym for hours, if you let him. And sometimes you do, because there’s something about his story that you just get, something that rings true for you. Maybe it’s how much he’s changed, and you know you need a change in your life, too. You should tell him that. You guys could be bros.
You’ve always wanted that, haven’t you? Huhuhuh, sure you have. Talk to him. See what happens. What’s the worst that could happen? Sounds pretty fuckin good, right? I mean, look at the guy. He’s fit, he’s walking with swagger, he’s easygoing … sure, he’s a bit, uh, I guess you’d say dumb, but who cares, right? Listen to that little voice inside of you, the one that speaks in italics while you go about your day.
Pretty soon you, too, will be saying to yourself, Who is that guy?
Was, the voice inside will correct you. Who was that guy.
Yeah huhuhuh who the fuck was that guy?
Another nerd got lost in one of those T. F. Gyms. He was simply walking home from school and wanted to check out this place to maybe get some muscles. He goes inside looking around and sees the weights you can rep one handed and tries to do 100. “ok here we go” 10 reps. He feels his shirt sleeves are a little tight. 20 reps. His shirt sleeves burst. 30 reps. He takes off his now tight shirt with big muscles. 40 reps. His bulge gets bigger. 50 reps. his calves grow. 60 reps. his feet are size 13. 70 reps. His butt gets plumped out. 80 reps. his mind dumbs down. 90 reps. He’s talking off all his clothes and now naked jacking off. 100 reps. He blows his load all over himself. “fuck yeah gotta get ripped for ma girl!”
Ah, radiation in 60s comic books. Was there anything it could not do? It gave you super powers, made your kids mutants and let you hypnotize a god. Almost seems the only thing it didn’t do was to give folks cancer and kill them.
At least here it is being used for an excellent cause: Putting a hunky muscle man under.
It was the pecs that gave it away. They swelled up so fast… just as his brain swelled down huhuhuhuh
After sipping the spiked Gatorade, the players slipped into a mindless trance…..then they were gagged, shackled, and stacked in a pickup truck….and transported to the Stud Farm facility….where they will spend the next 3 years being milked 4 times a day….
Relax, Tom…….The drug takes a few minutes to work…..The video camera will record your transformation from a mild-mannered straight man into a hog-wild, cock-hungry, gay sex pig….
The thing is that you don’t even see it coming. Or maybe you do. Inhale, exhale.
Slower than that. slow it down. easy now.
Don’t you know what you’re in for? We all get the same warnings. Drugs are bad. Drugs are scary. You could die. You could fuck up your life. That’s the scariest thing, you could fuck up your life. Inhale, exhale.
That’s much better. good job.
You could end up somewhere different.
You could end up someone different.
We’re all changing all the time anyway, though, so maybe that’s not such a bad thing, right? To be someone else isn’t really that far-fetched a statement, considering that when you wake up each day, you’ve changed a little. Your hair has grown longer, your nails, even the very particles of your skin have changed, been sloughed off as you roll around in bed, unaware of what is happening to your body. You age, you change. You are time-lapse in slow motion.
It’s all natural. Just like breathing. Inhale, exhale.
You lose some things along the way. Sometime these are things that have been with you forever, things you never thought you’d part ways with. Years down the road, you look back and laugh, huhuhuhuh, because of how ridiculous that seems. Huhuhuhuh.
Did you just laugh? Maybe it’s because you can already see yourself, years down the road, looking back and laughing, huhuhuhuh, because of how ridiculous the things you have now seem. Whoa, trippy. Inhale, exhale.
Maybe those things encompass this one thing, which is how you see the world. You look out through glasses, maybe. You hate them, obviously. Maybe they make you look smart. Maybe they are a part of your identity. But underneath, you hate them, because they’re “extra.” You have to put them on. They are a handicap. No one likes that sort of thing. Years down the road, you laugh, huhuhuh, because you can’t believe how long you went without getting contact lenses. Just a thought. Maybe you don’t wear glasses. Maybe you just see the world through fear-tinted lenses. Years down the road, you laugh, huhuhuh, because of how easy it was to overcome your fears. Being dumb isn’t something to be afraid of, bro. It’s just the way smart people look at you. And after awhile, you won’t care how they look at you. You’ll just be who you are. It is what is, right, bro? Here. Take a puff. An imaginary puff, of this fucking killer joint. It’s a special blend, and it’s smooth as silk, bro.
Inhale, exhale. Holy fuck, bro, I mean, come on. Imagine that smoke just sauntering through your system, starting in your lungs. Then it’s suddenly in your veins. In your fucking muscles. Try tensing them, just a little, even if you don’t have a lot yet. (You will.) You can’t deny that squeezing them feels amazing. No, not squeezing.
Flexing.
Can you imagine how amazing it would feel if you had more muscle to tense? To flex? Sure you can. The Nu weed is helping out. Oh, I didn’t mention that this was Nu weed? Well, it is. It’s fucking good though, isn’t it, bro? You want another hit? Sure you do. It’s all yours.
They say pot is a gateway drug, and it is. It makes you look at the world differently. You can see things from another angle, you can re-evaluate. Different thoughts start floating into your mind. Maybe you’re in a store, and you’re walking through the electronics department. Maybe that gigantic, overwhelming wall of TVs has got the game on. The football game, bro. You’ve never really paid attention to it before, not really. It just kind of exists on the edges of your vision. You have other things to do in that store. But this time, it’s different, you’re attracted to it. Maybe it’s the colors, or the blur of motion as someone snaps the football across the wide green grass, you find your head turning, you find your eyes locking on. Maybe you stand there for a long time, maybe it’s just a couple of minutes. Maybe it’s only thirty seconds. But after the first second, bro, it’s all there. You chose to pay attention. And even if you walk away after thirty seconds, bro, you made the decision to turn, and to look. Like a catchy song you hear the chorus to just once, it’s stuck in your head, like a rock in your shoe, you feel it, all day, until you unlace your shoe, wobble on one foot, and shake it out.
How do you feel? Ask yourself, because I’m asking you. How’s the Nu weed feel? It’s nice to be high. A little fuzzy around the edges. A little like having your brain wrapped in cotton. Just muting it a little bit. Dampening thoughts that would ordinarily be painfully bright, like hot, violent sunlight reflecting off of brushed steel. Now it’s more like the dim light of a 40-watt bulb. Isn’t that so much better? I can’t blame you if you want it all the time, crave it all the time. Inhale, exhale. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your shoulders look so relaxed, bro. This is exactly what you needed, isn’t it? And you didn’t even know you needed it. Well, you knew you did, on some level, I’m sure, but you never expected to feel this way.
And it’s as easy as that. Letting go. And letting yourself grin. Man. You’re gonna fit right in.
Muscle Tf Lover 