By AbsMan420

It was an orgasm that brought me back to my senses - as usual.

I'd lost track of time. It could easily have been an hour later, a day later, next week for all I knew. Eons - time had stopped mattering. When I wore the helmet, when I was under the spell of Dr. V's mind-control device, the blackness was a comfortable place, timeless as the womb. The thing did its work on me as I sat there in Woody's living room. Like a VR-helmet, it blocked out extraneous light and sound, forcing the wearer - me - to see and hear only what the programmer - they - chose.

And, at first glance, it didn't seem to show much - just what appeared to be static with a small, red laser dot in the center. No music, no deep, hypnotic voice, no dirty pictures to reinforce dirty behavior, in terms of dramatic presentation, it was fairly lame. As a matter of fact, for the first few impatient minutes, I kept anxiously waiting for something to happen. When was I gonna be hypnotized? When would I notice? Would I realize I was "under?" So many questions.

Just the red dot, I thought. Just look at the red dot.

And then, something... sort of. I just looked at the red dot and after a while, there was like, a mudslide in my brain. The questions I had, the concerns I harbored, the fears I carried, they all just seemed to slop down into a muddy pile that just... drained as neatly as sluice. The more I relaxed and allowed it, the better it felt. Cleaner.

I couldn't move my limbs. I was aware of that, but it didn't bother me - just the opposite. I was excited about the idea of something happening. This thing might actually have been hypnotizing me - and not in that Las-Vegas-act-like-a-chicken way, either. It felt... deeper than that.

Relaxed. Content. I heard something beneath the static of the screen - a voice? Instructions? Was someone planting instructions in me? Why was that exciting me?

I was being hypnotized - programmed - living an erotic fantasy! It's no wonder I became erect. I just couldn't lift my limbs to touch myself.

No. I controlled my dick - my dick didn't control me. That's why I was a man, not an animal - not some horny bottom. I was in control. Control - Muscle before Cock.

The red dot never moved - the static never changed. Consistent and comfortable, I just couldn't stop looking at it - I knew what it was doing to me, but I couldn't stop looking at it. I didn't WANT to stop. I was lying on the beach as the surf came in, waves of pleasure and knowledge crashing over me, then another, another, each receding less and less, until the water of the ocean enveloped me and I sank beneath the pleasurable, sexual tide. I loved it.

Voices amidst the static - the red dot intensified - faster now, like water filling my lungs. The pleasure built - an erotic crescendo, an entire orchestra playing a tune that only my subconscious could hear - the giant kettle drums centered in my balls, pounding their way to the climax. Let it in. I just have to let it in.

And then I shot - a massive, crippling orgasm from dead legs and still hips. No thrusting, no shifting of weight, I was still unable to move my limbs, but I felt my cock let go. And I felt the wads of wet moisture on my torso as I screamed, as I gave myself over to the programming. That was all it ever was - giving over. All I EVER had to do was give them control and I'd feel like this. Rewards.

Mirroring my orgasm, as the last drops dribbled out, as I caught my breath, as the pleasure faded, so too did the screen on the helmet. The red dot dimmed, and the static frittered away with electric spasms. It was finished - I'd been hypnotized.

Wow. How 'bout that?

There was part of me that expected to hear a recorded voice - "Please exit the ride to your left" or some such nonsense - that was how the moment felt. But I had control of my body again - if I'd ever really lost it in the first place. Interesting how the rational mind immediately searches to create denial, isn't it?

Okay, THAT was philosophic! Clearly, I hadn't gotten any less intelligent.

Whew! Another fear belied.

I slid the helmet off my head and set it down on the sofa next to me, taking a brief second or two to examine it. It didn't LOOK evil. I chuckled at my own joke, until I noticed the IV still in my arm. I'd forgotten about that. Nearly empty, the bag dripped the final bits into my bloodstream. "Just... protein," Woody had said. Why the pause?

Oh well, if it was gonna get me bigger, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered except getting me bigger.

Instead of moving, I just leaned back in the sofa, enjoying my post-orgasmic haze and allowing the IV-bag to completely empty. With my free hand, I rubbed my excessive cum across my muscular torso, making it shine like I was about to go on-stage in a bodybuilding competition, like I had the most incredible canvas for finger-painting. It entertained me for several minutes. I was so proud that I'd given over and gotten so much cum out of it.

Then I heard Woody's shower turn off.

A few minutes later, he peeked around the corner of the hallway. When he saw I was done, he smiled and stepped into the room, a towel wrapped around his thick waist - he could barely get the ends together, which he held with one hand, one of his massive legs exposed in the split. "How'd it go?" he asked. "How do you feel?"

I shrugged. "Like I'm the same guy I was an hour ago," I said, indicating my orgasm, spread across my torso. "Except I'm covered in cum. Aside from that..."

He laughed, taking the helmet from the couch next to me and carefully putting it away. "You ARE the same guy you were an hour ago," he said. "Except now you'll have an easier time with your motivation. I'll prove it to you. Here are your options: we can stay here and go play in the wrestling room where I'll fuck the livin' shit out of you, OR we can go to the gym and workout. Maybe arms. What do you think?"

"Let's go to the gym," I said, without a moment's pause. "We can fuck when we get back."

He smiled, that big, wide, dopey grin. "See?" he said. "That proves what I was sayin'. Tops always pick the workout - bottoms always pick the sex. You're one of us now, Strong! Congratulations!" He flexed a big double-biceps which made the towel fall away. Woody stood before me, naked and massive, his cock not totally erect, but ready.

Yeah, I wanted to be just like that.

It didn't take me five minutes to clean up - a damp cloth across my belly and balls and I threw on some sweats. "Did you get a singlet?" Woody asked, his gym bag across his shoulders, wearing a pair of cotton lounge pants and a white t-shirt. I pulled it out of the store bag and tossed it to him. "Ah, Aesics," he said. "Classic."

It wasn't until we got to "Apollyon," walking through the busy midnight streets of the city, that I thought to ask, "Has it been twelve hours yet? Don't we have to wait twelve hours between workouts? Will security even let us in?"

Woody laughed. "It's not like goin' swimming after lunch, Strong. I mean, yeah, you're supposed to wait between amps, but it won't kill you if you don't. Besides, I got a Trainer's Card, so I can override the system."

It turned out that he had to do just that. Although the computer accepted his membership card without protest, when I scanned mine, the synthesized voice-module said, "Access to Apollyon denied. Access available in... TWO-point-THREE-FIVE... hours for member... STRONG."

Woody snorted and ran his membership card through the slot again then typed a password into the keypad. "Trainer Card Override... ATWOOD... accepted," the computer intoned. "Please look in the retinal scanner."

It wasn't until I had my face pressed into the eye-piece that I wondered if it was really a security device or some sort of hypnotic activator. I didn't know if any of the other doctors utilized hypnotism with their charges. My guess was no, not if Dr. V had all the three-hundred pounders. Damn, I wanted to see evidence that I'd been through something other than just uncontrolled orgasms. I wanted to see a change of behavior, or a realignment of thought, like in the stories. I wanted to suddenly find myself a different person - I mean, THAT'S erotic!

On the other hand, I HAD gained twenty-five pounds of muscle in a day, so maybe I should just shut up.

"Positive match," the voice said. "Welcome... STRONG. Have a good workout."

At nearly midnight, the gym was nearly empty, though I could hear someone over in the leg area. "Palumbo," Woody said, nodding toward the sound. "He's pretty much here all night every night." Shaking his head, he added, "Brainless freak."

I remembered my own experience with Palumbo, my second time on the gear, when he got me to cum just by STANDING next to me. To think that I would soon be his equal - c'mon, Jeff, his BETTER - would they think me a freak, too?

Did it matter?

Woody's locker wasn't all that terribly far from mine - we could still see each other and hold a conversation in a slightly above-normal tone. From his gym bag, he pulled my black singlet out and tossed it to me - it still had the tag from the store dangling from a plastic lead. Woody had a black singlet, too, so old and worn it surprised me that it held together at the seams. The crotch and ass had literally been rubbed raw.

"Leave the straps down," he said as he slid his own singlet up over his heavy thighs. "It's sexier."

That's all we wore - no underwear or t-shirts, no socks or shoes, just the black singlets with the straps pulled down. (Well, Woody wore a thick, gold necklace, but other than that...) I caught our reflection in the mirror, two bodybuilders - one big, one huge - plodding along to the meds room. At first, I didn't realize it was us - I'd forgotten how big I'd gotten.

So I hopped on the scale outside the meds room, just for confirmation's sake. The last time I'd weighed myself - this afternoon when Woody and I'd met - I'd been two twenty-six. Here we are now, ten hours later, and I was two sixty-eight... WHAT???

Then I looked down and saw Woody's foot pressing on the platform, fucking with me. He smiled a wide, wide grin - a devilish grin - then removed his foot.

Okay... two thirty-one. Still, five pounds heavier than I was the last time I weighed myself. I wouldn't mind seeing an increase of five pounds every time I got on a scale.

"Wow," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "That's just unbelievable."

Woody snorted. "Wait'll a hundred pounds from now - THAT'LL be unbelievable!" Reminiscing his way into the meds room, he added, "I remember the day I broke three-hundred. I was so freakin' cocky, the first thing I did was challenge Palumbo." He rolled his eyes and laughed. "THAT was ugly. I didn't make that mistake again for a while."

He tossed me a dart and kept one for himself, breaking the seal while I got the alcohol pads. "Actually, you know what?" he asked, after having thought about it. "Lemme give you yours first so you can do me the same way, okay?"

I shrugged, trying to pretend that didn't excite me. "Okay," I said, as I started to pull my singlet down.

Woody waved me to stop. "No, no," he said. "Not going in your ass." He grabbed me by the shoulder and made sure my back was to him - I felt him swab the back of my arm. "This is gonna sting," he said, and poked the needle into my triceps.


"Told ya," he said, and I could hear his smile. "Now, you can't go too deep - this isn't your ass, but you gotta make sure to break through the epidermal layer. Half in this arm..." Then I felt him pull the needle, press the wound for a second, and move to the other arm, where he swabbed, re-poked, and deposited the rest. "And the other half in the left," he said. "See how I did that? Now do me."

"May I ask why we're doing it like this?"

He shrugged and nodded. "We're workin' arms," he said. "And if you inject the gear directly into the muscle you're working, you'll get a better growth-response out of it." He smiled. "It's an advanced technique - how does that make you feel?"

"Like I'm about to get some big arms."

Turning his back to me, he said, "Don't worry, you'll work for 'em," but I could still hear the excitement in his voice, the anticipation. He was getting off on my growth as much as I was - maybe more. I was so caught up in seeking anticipated mental changes in myself, I kept forgetting the physical that had already happened.

To think that I was gonna be as big as Woody - hell, I was gonna be BIGGER - it was all I could think about as I rubbed the alcohol swab on the Clydesdale-like horseshoe of his right triceps. Maybe it made me a little too aggressive as I stuck the dart in his arm. Woody inhaled sharply through his teeth, but didn't say anything - he clearly knew it was my first time. "Sorry, bro," I said.

"Just get it done," he stated flatly. "Before I forget I asked for it."

His left arm was a bit more of a challenge - in reaction to my first attempt, I didn't poke the needle quite so hard this time, and I didn't break through to the subcutaneous level. So I had to give it a little... extra jab to get it into the muscle of his triceps. "You are so bad at this," he said while I deposited the rest of the gear, but still had a hard-on when he turned to face me immediately afterward. "Okay, we got about ten minutes. Stop looking at my cock."

I smiled and tossed the used syringe in the medical waste bin, then adjusted my own burgeoning hard-on beneath my singlet. "Can't help it, Woody."

"Well, you better," he said, reaching down and adjusting himself. "This is about NOT giving in, Strong. Remember? The longer you resist, the bigger you get."

"I know. I know."

"Okay," he said, nodding. "Let's go stretch. There's a couple more things we need to talk about."

After a quick stop at our lockers, where Woody slipped his unlaced army boots on his feet and I did the same with my black wrestling shoes, we went out onto the main floor. The stretching area was small, unlike the rest of the gym - few guys really STRETCHED before working out, content to make their first set their "stretch set" - but there was one of those "Stretch-Mates" - you know, that thing with a metal frame and what looks like a bungee-cable spider-web on it - and a few mats on the floor, so we took advantage of them.

"I gotta say," I said, pulling on the Stretch-Mate, "I'm really curious to see when this whole hypnotism thing is gonna manifest. Like, when do I start clucking like a chicken? When do I 'become' this cocky muscle-top?"

He chuckled, trying not to hurt my feelings with his laughter. "You've been reading too many stories, bro. Hypnotism don't work like that. You can't... you can't... MAKE someone be something they're not, you know? You can't change someone into someone else. Otherwise, everyone who went to this gym would be the same person."

"Then what's the point of that helmet-thing? Is it just for fantasy's sake? I FELT something when I had it on, Woody. I didn't imagine that."

"No, you didn't," he said, shaking his head while pointing his left elbow straight up, pulling on it with the other hand to stretch the triceps. Woody's arm was wider than his head. "Obviously, you had a successful experience."


He smiled and traded arms, stretching the other one. "Yeah," he said. "Bro, you CAME - you had a freakin' orgasm all over yourself. See, it rewards you when you give in."

"But give in to what?" I asked, leaning toward him. "What did it do?"

He shrugged, again acting as if it had been no big deal, regardless of what the thing had done. "The first couple times, not much," he said. "It's sort of just laying ground work, getting you used to giving over to it, training you to easily go into that state where it can implant its subliminals."

"But, WHAT subliminals?" I asked, perhaps a little impatiently, which I immediately regretted. "That's what I'm trying to get to, Woody. What's it putting in there?"

He came close to me and spoke confidentially, as if there were more ears than just ours in the vicinity - the only other person in the whole gym was Palumbo, and we could hear him screaming out the reps on the other side of the leg area. Adjusting himself yet again, Woody said, "Okay, I'll tell you one thing it implanted. When you feel yourself about to lose it, you know, after a set, when you feel like you're gonna blow your load and end the buzz, make eye-contact with yourself in the mirror and say the phrase 'Control. Muscle before Cock' slowly and distinctly and then see what happens. You can really only use that once during a workout, sort of like a 'Get Out Of Jail Free' card, so don't waste it too soon."

"Like if I'm going into the second stage?" I asked. "I mean, is that the appropriate time?"

He nodded slightly and sighed, weighing his thoughts. "I'd like to take you into the second stage tonight," he said, looking directly in my eyes, "but there is something you need to know about it. For all its advantages - the rapid weight-gain, the aggressive motivation, the ego-ride - there's a cost. See, Strong, it... uh... it kills brain cells. So the longer you maintain that second-stage buzz, the... stupider you get - to put it bluntly."

Suddenly, from the other side of the gym, we heard Palumbo moan and scream in what was clearly an orgasmic battle. His deep expletives emerged as bass grunts and one-syllable, guttural barks.

"As if on cue," Woody chuckled. "There's the perfect example. Did you know that when he was recruited, Palumbo was a stock-broker with an MBA?"

"You're shitting me?"

Woody shook his head. "No, seriously. I think they were hoping to take advantage of his market experience and have him do some investing for them, but um... Palumbo got addicted to the second stage and now... well, I don't think he could SPELL MBA anymore."

"That's horrible."

Woody snorted. "Until you get fucked by him," he said. "Then you might think differently. Look, he's a lot happier working for Apollyon than he ever was on Wall Street - and he's making a lot more money. So what if he's as intelligent as a foot-stool? It was a choice he made."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I admit, I've done it more than a few times. Can you tell?" He smiled, flicking his eyebrows. "Really Strong, you don't notice a difference right away. It's a cumulative effect. It's not like every time you do it, you lose ten IQ points - although, the longer you stay in that state, the more dangerous that threat becomes." He shrugged and continued. "Ultimately, it wasn't for me - I like being in control too much. Still, I think it's important to experience, and you're not gonna tell me you've never tried any drugs before, right? Personally, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you - you got brains to spare. I'd just go for it."

I nodded. "How about we see how I feel when we get there?"

He nodded, too, sticking his lower lip out. "Fair enough," he said. "I just wanted you to know everything. If you're gonna have free will, Strong, then you need to understand the consequences. You CAN get there quickly, but there's a price. Now, come on, we've stalled long enough. Let's get this workout started!"

"Big arms!" I said, and we tossed each other a little flex, striding our way deeper into the gym.

Palumbo's suffering moans led us like predators on the hunt. •

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