Leaderboard

Before I go to the train, I post a short story. Muscle Growth in Plato’s Republic I see that you are awake. Hush. There is no reason to yell. You will only damage your ability to listen, if you yell that loudly inside your chamber, considering its lack of furniture, its lack of cloth and the fact that the walls consist of metal. Who I am, is not your business, but I am permitted to reassure you, that I speak on behalf of The Leadership. I speak to you through these loud-speakers. That mirror is actually a window. I watch you through it. Hello to you. There is no reason rant like that. What would you prefer? The old systems were apalling. One of them categorised persons after their pigmentation, and put some persons in ovens. Another one robbed persons working in agricultural production of their homes and working tools, boasted over alleged equality, while their leadership lived in an opulence that the productive classes were denied. A third one was ruled by the rich one percent. A fourth was ruled by skillful demagogues. Almost all of the old systems put too much executive power in only one person’s hand – a system waiting for to be abused. Seriously, do you really want to have any of these systems back? Ah. You are returning to more immediate questions? The reason for not remembering, is that you were anaesthetized during sleep. Your whereabouts… Let me return to that shortly. You can’t accuse The Leadership of that. Come now. Really? You ought to be well aware, that The Leadership lives in considerably more ascetic conditions than the Productive Classes. Moderation is a virtue. The Productive Classes are given the sort of housing they desire, the food they desire, credits to buy clothes of their own choice from the 156 different licenced brands, and unlimited access to all TV and film. They are given exactly what they want. How many of their forebears actually used their so-called suffrage before The Great Reform? Freezing? Yes, of course you are freezing. You are stark naked and strapped to a metal bench with a plastic cushion. Anyone would freeze under those conditions. Don’t interrupt me. Your new buzzcut suits you, by the way. But, as I said before, The Leadership lives in considerably more ascetic conditions than the Productive Classes. Equity! Prudence! Bravery! Moderation! The Productive Classes are allowed to have appetites. The Leadership are not. Or like that eastern writer, of whom our Founding Parents were so fond, put it: The Leadership shall show benevolence to the subjects, and put public duty before self-interest, while The Defenders and The Productive Classes shall show due respect to The Leadership. Is it too much to ask? We who belong to The Leadership do not own any private property, are not allowed to chose which clothes to wear, and our food is carefully calculated to be healthy, but not exactly tasty. I know the difference. As so many else of us, I grew up in The Productive Classes, just like you, but my achievements at the diagnostic tests in school brought me to the attention of The Supervisor, and I was transferred to a B-class for evaluation, and, when the evaluation turned out Code Green, to an A-class for further education. Do you know, that we have to study mathematics until age 30? We are not allowed to watch TV or films, since entertainment is distracting from duty. There are benefits and drawbacks with every position in society, but it is constructed in order to make all of us happy, regardless if you belong to The Leadership, The Defenders or The Productive Classes. Different personality types find happiness in different sorts of lifestyles. Nowadays I like the serene, uncluttered surroundings in The Leadership quarters, and find the over-decorated homes of The Productive Classes slightly tacky. My parents regard the lifestyle I have to lead is too stern and joyless, but the thing is: We find happiness in different sorts of things. Why is it important to wear a shirt with a particular embrodiery on one side of the chest and not another one? You are right. I talk too much about myself. I haven’t got rid of some Plebby traits enough. I have to consult my shrink tomorrow. Let’s talk about you instead: Transferred from C-class to B-class at a very early age, but was returned to C-class at age 14 when puberty distracted you. Performed well in social studies before age 14, but began to behave in rebellious fashion from that age on. Good results in PE. Produce less than average at your office employment. Your registered attendance at institutions for physical exercise is higher than average. Shows ability to sacrifice time and unhealthy food, for the higher goal of fitness. Your social life is mapped and evaluated to have a high exchange of known dissidents. Warmer now? Good. I thought it was just a matter of time, before you would feel better in your metallic surroundings. Of course we have to make use of surveillance of everyone’s life! Otherwise the terrorists will win. And we will have The Defenders patrol the streets, in order to ensure public safety and security. Personally, I admire the Defenders: These tall, powerful men in uniform, who serve to protect all of us. I definitely lack what it takes to become one of them. Wrong personality type. Not understand why anyone would join The Defenders? As I said before, our pursuit is to assure that everyone in society will be happy. The Productive Classes wish to consume commodities, even if that mean that they will not enjoy suffrage. The Leadership enjoy unlimited information, the opportunity to use of our minds, and responsibilities in government, even if that mean we have to refuse property and close relations. The Defenders… Have you noticed… Oh. Sorry. Do you feel well? That spasm looked uncomfortable. No? You are fine? Good. You must have noticed how badly performing children are demoted to The Productive Classes if they are evaluated Code Red in school. And you must have noticed how children from The Productive Classes are transferred to A-classes if they are evaluated Code Green in school. Our Founding Parents was adamant, that we were not supposed to become a caste society. Meritocracy and mechanisms, to ensure movement from one state of life to another, were the foundations on which this Republic was built. But have you ever noticed anyone to be recruited to The Defenders in school? Or have you ever met a child of Defender parents? My questions are rhetorical of course, this fine art, which Cicero was an expert of. The problem with the police and the armed forces in the old systems in the bygone world, was that they sometimes attracted the wrong sort of people. Someone, who would be prone to abuse his power, would be unsuitable as a Defender, but in the old systems the position as a Defender attracted that sort of people. There existed dutiful and idealistic persons too, of course, but, despite that some of them sincerely wished to serve and protect, there was a risk with the old system. I don’t know if you remember the ancient state called Turkey, for instance. Several times its army toppled the democratically elected government. Similar things happened in a state called Burma, but I don’t know if you read about that in C-class history lessons. Even in C-class you must have read about the atrocities committed by Gestapo and Stasi? Oh my! That looks uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do? No? Good? Feels so good? That sounds fine and dandy. Nothing to worry about, then? What is happening to you? Actually, I was just on my way to explain that. That muscle tone suits you, by the way. Oh, yes! The Defenders, then. The conundrum for every state, is to be sure that persons guarding the state and the general public against enemies without and within, don’t abuse their power. A state like ours, for instance, could risk to be toppled by The Defenders, and turned into a military dictatorship, and we can’t have that, can we? The solution our Founding Parents choose, was to ensure that The Defenders don’t have offspring, and actually is the least free of our inhabitants. That doesn’t mean that Defenders are not happy. As I said before: There are benefits and drawbacks with every position in society, but it is constructed in order to make all of us happy, regardless if you belong to The Leadership, The Defenders or The Productive Classes. Different personality types find happiness in different sorts of lifestyles. And I now come to the question: How would you find happiness? Your outspoken views about The Leadership are misguided, and easily corrected by the mind-control program that is running in your brain just now. Your wariness of power-abuse, on the other hand, is a useful virtue in a society like ours. It ought to be encouraged, especially in a Defender. Not a Defender? Oh come now. At this stage you must understand what’s going on. Defenders are not born. They are made. I read your psychological profile. You like to be re-programmed. Thinking of it: I don’t any longer have to read your psychological profile to see that you like the re-programming. Some gymboys work out in order to compensate for something, but I notice that that reason don’t apply to you. Shouting abuse despite this high frequency of brainwave re-programming? That means that you have a strong will. Good. That’s another virtue of a Defender. The warm feeling, which drives the cool temperature away in your chamber, is caused by the injection you received while asleep. Based on your height, weight, age, and the time which has lapsed since the injection was administered, I would make an educated guess, that it is still intensifying in effect. If you enjoy this feeling, I can bring you pleasure by informing you, that the enhancement of your body tissues and physique has just began. When this process has reached its goal you have become a Defender. That’s the spirit! It seems like some inhibitions are removed? Yes, you are right. These biceps are indeed ’fucking big’. And yes, these abdominal muscles are very hard, but don’t you think that overuse of the word ’fucking’ is emptying it of its rhetoric impact? Yes! Give in to it! You know that you like re-programming! Ooops. Not all of the recruits shout that much. So. So. Just breathe. It breaks you in order to rebuild you into a stronger being. Yes, just like that. That sounds confident. Yes, I agree, these vein-covered quads and thighs are, as you put it, ’awesome’. I’m literally full in awe over the muscle mass you are achieving, and it seems like you are, too. I know, by experience, that it is best to inform you, that the process will now enter the next phase. Yes, that’s right. This is just the beginning. No, there will be more. No, I’m not kidding. Yes, you don’t have to ask for it. I will ’bring it on’. You can trust me in that regard. You start and wrench unusually much. Are you okey? Never felt better? Good. I hoped that you would accept the process at last. Proud to be a Defender? Good. Yes, I hear that you think it’s good, too. Too good to be true? But it is true. Wait for phase three. Yes, there are further phases. Can’t take any more? I’m sorry, but the procedure must go on, when it has started. Safety protocol demand that we finish this. Oh, look at those lats! And your traps and shoulders! You respond unusually well to the treatment. Yes, you are unusually big, already. I can’t imagine how you will look when this is finished. I don’t need any encouragement. I’m already looking at you. And what a sight you are! That’s my cocky lad! If that is a good expression at your age. Damn. I am beginning to sound unusually emotional. I must see my shrink tomorrow. If I can’t compose myself, I might be demoted to the Productive Classes. If I'm willing to pay that price for watching your humungousness? I… I… I don’t know. Oh, aren’t you a miracle? Those hard pillows of a chest… Becoming like basket balls now. Yes, I would moan too, if that happened to me. Initiating Phase three. I thought, that you just said, that you can’t take any more? Give you all? Yes. Everything in due time. More? Yes, you will have more. I adjust the controls here manually, to quicken the process somewhat. We can’t hurry too much outside the ordinary parameters. No one knows what would happen to your organism then. ’Beef?’ That’s a word for it. ’Powerhouse’. Yes, that’s another one. Oh, my! You broke your restraints. They were for your own safety, you know. A lot of subjects shake so violently, that they risk to harm themselves. Yes, I’m looking at you. Oh. Yes. Definitively as volleyballs. And these football shoulders! You are not supposed to do that. Hot? Well, ehrm… We in The Leadership are not supposed to think about such things. Initiating Phase Four. No. I can’t. Oh. I’m not supposed to… I’m here to guide you through the process, not watch you in another capacity… Oh! Oh, uh! No! I can’t… Don’t tease me like that. Goddammit, I’m a doctor, not a … And those veins! Covering your legs and your chest… I don’t believe my eyes! A behemoth of raw untamed power! And the monumental calves of yours, protruding, bulgingly, still pulsating… The hypertrophic powerfield surrounding you… stimulating you… No! No! I said, don’t tease me! I don’t… You insanely ultra-masculine brute, you don’t understand, I can’t… Oh! Uh! Join you? No, I can’t… No, I can’t, oh… So this is how the sluice works? What am I doing here? I’m not supposed to… I return out of this sluice. It’s too dangerous. I’m not evaluated… I’m not scheduled… I don’t fit the personality test… Uhn. Enter. YES! TOGETHER WITH YOU! BECOMING A DEFENDER! THE POWER! THE ALL-CONSUMING POWER! TOO MUCH… I… OH! YES! UHN! UHN! COMPUTER: INTENSIFY PROCESS Process intensified, and increasing

TROY “There you are, you fucking wimp!! Hey! Don’t try to run… Ok, fine, you want it the hard way. There, see? I told you not to run. I caught you pretty fast, didn’t I? Looking at these monster quads of mine, you might think they’d make me slow and awkward, but hell, no! They’re like fucking steel springs; so fucking powerful, I fucking fly across the ground! Not like those fucking sticks you walk around on. Put any fucking strain on those things, looks like they’d snap. Haha. “Hey, hey, don’t fucking struggle, you goddamn stick-boy, I don’t want to hurt you. Yeah, that’s right, for once I don’t want to hurt you… Besides, no way you could break my grip. See those wide-ass rippling forearms with those thick veins running up them and straight over my fucking huge, 18-inch, chiseled biceps - that’s one inch for every year I’ve been alive, haha– they’re way too much for your puny, soft, weakling body to fight against… But then you know that. I’ve shown you often enough, throwing you around like a fucking rag doll, before mashing your face against my stone-like abs. So, stop struggling cause if I want to fuck with you, there ain’t nothing you can do about it. “There, that’s better. I’m going to let go of you now. Don’t try running cause I’d just catch you again. You run like a fucking girl, you know that? There, that’s good. Now you just sit there and listen to what I have to say. “Hunter, Jack and I were sitting around talking about genetics… yeah, you know Hunter and Jack, don’t you? I can tell you’re scared of them, too. Haha. Well, we were talking about how all three of us had great genetics ’cause we’re all pretty fucking jacked for 18-year-olds. Haha. I see your eyes bugging out every time I flex this fucking 18-inch bad boy bi o’mine. He’s fucking awesome, isn’t he? Anyway, we’ve all got pretty fucking big arms and huge-ass legs, and pecs like cannon balls, backs like walls and stomachs like cement… anyway, we got to talkin about how some dudes probably have great genetics but never do anything with them. “That’s when you came up. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a total stick-boy. Jeeze, it’s embarrassing how skinny you are. But if you worked at it, and I mean hard, I think you got the potential to be a fucking beast. “Hunter didn’t agree with me. He thought Ralphie Bennet had the most potential. Yeah, Ralphie’s a friend of yours, isn’t he? I mean any dude can put on some muscle, but looking at the way you’re put together vs him, I think you could out class him easy. “Don’t fucking blush, wuss, I’m not gay for you or anything. I just think you’ve got better genetics than Ralphie Bennet. Jack picked Simon Philips, if you can believe it. Philips? There has never been a more natural born wimp! “So we all got into a kind of argument over it, and that kind of turned into a bet. So now we each have until graduation to put muscles on our dudes. Then we see whose boy gets the biggest. “Don’t shake your head at me, loser, this is the best thing that ever happened to you. I’ll make a man out of you! You’ll be able to walk down the street with your head held high in a fucking man’s body, not a fucking stick figure. And you’ll do it because while you do, you’ll be under my protection and no one will fucking mess with you. I can see you like that. And if you don’t do it, I’ll make your life hell every single day for the rest of high school. Is that understood? “Good, good. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s see what we’ve got to work with. Take off your shirt. Take it off, damn it! Listen, maggot, you have to do what I tell you, whatever I tell you, whenever I tell you to do it if we’re going to pull this off, understand? From now until graduation, I own you! Your ass is mine! So, take your fucking shirt off! I’m not going to tell you again! “Ok, you asked for it! “Yeah, I ripped your fucking shirt off! What are you going to fucking do about it? That’s what I thought. Next time I tell you to do something, do it or I’ll rip your fucking head off! Got it, Maggot? “Good! Now let’s see what we’ve got… Jeeze, you’re fucking pathetic. Stick-thin flabby arms, no fucking chest at all, and you have a fucking paunch. You’re 18 years old; how do you have a fucking paunch? Don’t shrug you’re skinny-ass shoulders at me, Maggot. I’m going to take off my shirt. Check this out! “Look at my fucking bulging striated pecs! Look at my cobblestone abs! Feel them, Maggot. Stick out your skinny little fingers and feel them. Feel how hard they are? Like fucking steel! Check out the V taper of my thickly muscled back! You’ve already seen the guns, but I’m going to give you another look. Bam! There they are, Righty and Lefty. Righty’s a bit bigger, but Lefty’s struggling to catch up. “You’ve got these same muscles buried deep somewhere in your skinny little carcass, and I’m going to bring them out, each and every fucking one of them! How does that make you feel, Maggot? Does it excite you? It should. I remember the first time I saw a big dude on TV when I was about 8. I knew I wanted to be just like him when I grew up, wanted to feel all that huge, thick, powerful muscle all over me, and now I do! Didn’t you ever fucking want that, Maggot? I don’t know how anyone can stand to be like you. You’ve got a body like a twelve-year-old boy. How can you fucking stand to be like that? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Soon you’ll be bigger, a lot fucking bigger. You’ll be a fucking muscle dork. You’ll be the biggest, strongest fucking muscle dork this school has ever seen. And if you’re not, I will fucking kill you. Brian’s Journal Day 1 Oh my god, what do I do now? Troy Watkins, the bane of my existence, wants to make me his… his monkey-boy. I guess that’s the best word for it. He wants to train me so he can win some stupid bet he made with his wrestling buddies. His trained monkey… I’d say fuck that, but I don’t really have any choice in the matter. Jesus, the arms on that dude. I’ve never seen anything like that; they’re like fucking grapefruits bulging out of his arms, vein covered, rock-hard grapefruits! I mean I always knew he had to be jacked, but shit… I didn’t know guys our age could get arms that big! And the rest of him… his muscles are monstrously huge! His body looks so fucking powerful… Jeeze, I’m starting to get hard. That’s weird… but his brick wall abs and his massive chest… He could squash me like a bug… damn… oh fuck… And that powerful stone wall of a stomach… heaving in and out as he breathed…I’m so fucking hard right now… brb… That’s better. Damn, guess my hormones are out of control or something. Anyway, Jack Colby is doing the same thing to Ralphie. I called him when I got home and sure enough, he got pretty much the same speech from Hunter that I got from Troy. We’re both kinda fucked. And I guess the same thing is happening to Simon Philips, although neither of us really knows him. We tried to think of a way to get out of it, but the only thing that either of us could think of, is to get these douches to choose someone else for their little contest. So we came up with a list of guys who aren’t jocks, but who look like they could be. And tomorrow, we’re going to drop a few of these names and see what happens. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it. Link to Part 2

DHalden you are an EXCEPTIONAL writer! You take the usual muscle story trophes: growth, mysterious pills/potions/shots/magic/whatever and add HUMOR! That is VERY hard to do, and you do it so awfully well! The next installment of one of your stories never disappoints! Now, having said that, don't feel ANY pressure -- or anything!