Tag: Meathead TF

omnitf:

“Don’t look me in the eyes! Please. I don’t … I don’t want to … want … I … have to … no….”

“Are you okay?” You approach the man as he stumbles back. His hands are resting easily behind his back, his powerful frame tensing with his titanic exertion. His torso is thick and well carved with powerful muscle. A chiseled six pack sits under two slab-like pectorals.

The moment you touch his arm in concern, he strikes. Suddenly, your wrist is seized in an iron grip and you feel yourself being pulled against that torso to be held in a crushing embrace as he stares down at you with … what the…?

You see no pupils, only two sets of spirals, constantly spinning deeper and deeper.

“Unclaimed target identified. Initiating recruitment protocols.”

You’re suddenly starting to feel very warm as the spirals continue to swirl. You pant as sweat begins to form on your brow, chest and stomach. The man’s torso burns hotter and hotter against you as he continues to glare you down.

“This gym is for muscleheads only, by order of Coach. You will comply to Coach’s will. It is good to comply with Coach’s will. It is good to conform to Coach’s will. Conforming is complying. Complying is obeying. Obeying is pleasure.”

The spirals continued to spin and the behemoth of a man narrates in a low, dull monotone that gradually lulls you as he runs through his script and you watch on helplessly. By now, your shirt is thoroughly coated in sweat and it clings to your body like a second skin. You feel the tension of his biceps pressing against your triceps to pin you against his torso. His muscular torso. Such … beautiful … muscles….

“You cannot look away. But that is all right. There is no need to look away. Because muscle is good. Coach is good. Coach helps us grow muscle. We must obey to grow muscle. We must conform to grow muscle. Muscle must think for us. Muscle must act for us. Muscleheads do not think. You will not think.”

But ,… you….

“Thoughts are slowing now. Slowing as you go deeper, deeper into my eyes. Deeper into the spirals. Deeper into trance. Deeper and slower. Deeper and slower… Slower and dumber….”

That’s … that’s not… uh…. that’s…. 

You blink, and suddenly he’s jumped tracks. How long has it been? Does it … matter? You … you should listen. Yes. Listen.

“Muscle is meat. Your meat must grow. Your muscles must grow. Grow to conform. Grow to obey. Grow to be a musclehead, because Muscleheads obey Coach, and Muscleheads are dumb. And you are dumb, because you cannot think. So slow, so dull, so deep in trance as all your thoughts drain into the spiral, into your muscles, into your meat.”

MEAT.

You groan as you feel the heat build yet again. Your shirt grows tighter still and your legs part as you feel a greater mass and heft swelling between them. You heave deep breaths as your pectorals and shoulders take on more definition. Your jaw thickens as the fat recedes to reveal a powerful masculine square. A loud rip sounds as you continue to follow those eyes. You don’t even notice the fact you are nearly level with them now. You cannot marvel at the sudden surge of growth or the cool air that dances over your sweaty torso, carving new furlows that rapidly develop into well defined valleys along your abdominals.

“Our goal, our life, our purpose is to be mindless muscleheads for Coach. You will be a mindless musclehead for coach.”

The grip around you feels so tight now. It’s like he’s straining to contain you. But … that’s not right … is it? You breathe heavily as a dull tingle spreads down your thighs and through your arms, causing them to inflate and swell to match your captor.

…

No, not captor. Trainer. He is your trainer and recruiter.

You blink again. Cold air brushes over your recently trimmed hair. You feel new baggy sweatpants that you … had you been wearing them before?

…

Coach says wear them. You must wear them. It is not for you to question when or how.

Chest brushes chest. Torso touches torso. Bulge presses bulge.

Your voice has deepened with your thickening neck. It matches your trainer. You feel your mouth moving in time with his. You hear your twin stereo urging to Listen, grow, obey.

And then he stops. He releases you. He backs away.

You blink. You turn. You stare with your legs parted and your vascular arms behind in a parade rest. Your body is massive, each curve and ridge a testament to bodybuilding, to muscle, to your meat.

“To coach….” you whisper.

“What is your purpose?” your trainer asks.

You don’t miss a beat. “To be a perfect obedient musclehead for Coach. I am a good musclehead. I obey.” You shudder as you peer into your own new and improved swirling eyes. You have inherited the spiral, the constant drain designed to ensure you never think too much again. Every time you look in a mirror, every time you pass a reflective surface, those eyes will pull you back. those eyes will keep you a proper mindless musclehead.

You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder as your new musclehead brother turns you around.

“Come on. Coach says it’s time to work out.”

You are a musclehead.

You obey.

Time to grow some meat.

Of Spies and Muscleheads Part 6

omnitf:

“They’re swarming the compound,
Hunter. More than half have been converted already.”

“Why hasn’t anybody shot them,
damnit?” Hunter growled.

“We’ve tried. Somebody rigged
munitions. It’s all blanks.”

“How the hell can our entire armory
have been compromised?”

“Very, very carefully,” Stone said.
“I’ll have to thank Arsenal later. He should be waking any moment now. He’s
such a good meathead.”

Hunter groaned.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Agent
Hunter? Feeling a little heavy? Oh, but I bet it feels so good, doesn’t it?
It’s hard to resist all that growth, all that power. Why don’t you just … let
it go?”

“F–Fuck you,” Hunter said through
gritted teeth. Then he shuddered as the bulge in crotch increased.

“Ooh, you’re coming along nicely.
Just a matter of time now, Agent Hunter.”

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