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Coach's recruits


Hialmar

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Coach's recruits

Chapter one

Cyril felt silly. The thin-limbed 20 year old student in literary studies felt embarrassed over his own insecurities. Why would an intelligent boy like himself -- having just left adolescence he still shunned to call himself a man -- accept the stereotypical ideas about masculinity the marketing world and the film industry tried to sell him? Aren't we all individuals? Why would he allow someone else to dictate to him, what male existence was supposed to be? Wasn't he a free person -- free to make his own decisions, free to find his own truth, free to explore his own mind? He was more introspective, than the jocks that had surrounded him during high school. Although he had escaped bullying, his interaction with the high school jocks had been superficial and ambivalent. They were not all bullies, and a few of them had been decent acquaintances in some cheerful, plucky way, but it had been impossible to discuss anything that mattered with them. And yet. The way they took care of their bodies. Their confidence. That something, lurking inside them: Warm, friendly, and yet threatening to burst into something else than friendly. Was he coded by society to fall into traditional patterns? On the other side, society didn't approve of meatheads. Actually, the entire society was ambivalent: Extolling perfect bodies in films and on TV, but disapproving of beefy men at workplaces and in academia. There was a lot of talk about "toxic masculinity" nowadays. Sometimes it could sound like all masculinity was toxic, which was a bit unfair.

He watched the box he had been foolish enough to order. A few adhesive patches and a sort of pod with earbuds. He had fallen for the marketing tricks: "Want to be more of a man? Improve gains at the gym? Explore your innate masculinity?" Ridiculous. He could have flushed the money in the toilet, and got the same results. There are no magic methods. Well. Worth a try. Probably nothing would happen.

Bedtime. He read the instructions, pressed the patch to a spot below his armpit, put the earbuds in his ears and reclined in the bed. He pressed the button.

"You have ordered this product, because you want to improve something in your life. To improve yourself."

The voice was deep, reassuring and commanding in a nice way, but Cyril's sense of irony was still alerted. It sounded slightly too much like the exaggerated deep voices in film trailers and after shave commercials, to allow him to take it seriously.

"You are able to improve your life and improve yourself. The ability is already inside you."

"The usual self-help rhetoric.", he thought sleepily.

"By using the patches according to schedule, and by listening to this audio file before sleep every night, you will gradually improve your life and yourself. I will guide you to a deeper state of mind, and you will carefully listen to my instructions."

There were some sort of humming sounds in the background -- several of them, layered -- and his body began to feel relaxed and nicely warm.

"By reaching a deeper state of mind, you open yourself up for positive change. The deeper state, the more change. I will now count from ten to one, and by each step, you will go deeper and deeper into yourself. ONE."

It felt like he was a recruit given a command. It felt good to be the recruit. Recruited to improve himself. Given the command: ONE. His mind obeyed. Deeper. It felt good to go deeper.

"TWO."

His consciousness dwindled away into his mind. The deep voice continued to count: Three, four, five.

Six, seven, eight. It actually felt quite nice.

"TEN".

Sunlight shimmered behind the curtains when he awoke. To his surprise, the audio file was still running.

"TWO. And when I say 'one' you will be fully awake and relaxed, and the things you experienced tonight will begin to manifest in your everyday life ..."

"ONE. Good luck, and you will listen to this audio file again next night, or even more often."

Weird. He hadn't expected the audio file to last for hours, and he didn't remember anything since he fell asleep last night. He had probably fallen asleep during the countdown. Disappointing to not remember the actual content of the mind-training.

He felt hungry. He felt hungry for porridge. Porridge without sugar. He cooked some porridge. 

He finished his meal. He hadn't used his gym card for two weeks, but he suddenly felt in a good mood for exercise. Yeah, exercise would be a good idea. He looked for his training trunk, and to his surprise he found it already prepared for a workout. Strange. He couldn't remember preparing his bag for the gym. Anyhow, it made things easier. He was on his way.

* * *

It had been a week. Everything had effortlessly become like a clockwork: Workouts. Meals. Laundrying his workout clothes. Putting the new patch in place. Listening to the audio file.  Falling asleep at a decent time. Sleeping well. He felt well. He felt energised.

He had tried to listen to the middle part of the audio file, but found, that he always had to listen from beginning to end, and he didn't remember much (or anything) after the counting. He only knew, that the counting felt good. Thrilling. Exciting. Because what would follow, would help him realise and manifest what he wanted. And he wanted gains. He wanted muscle. He craved it. Desired it. A sort of deep seated urge, which had been there all the time, had stirred. Awakened. Asserted itself. 

* * *

Three weeks had passed. He got an e-mail in his inbox. An e-mail from the company: If he enjoyed the first month, he was given the offer to subscribe to a two-month follow up, which aspired to assist him in his goal to grow bigger.

The urge stirred in the depth of his belly and in the depth of his mind.

Follow up.

Bigger.

If he enjoyed the first month? This dedication! The dedication he had experienced when he returned to the gym was amazing. If the follow up was half as good as the first month, he would gladly subscribe. And so easy! Just to click the link: 

Edited by Hialmar
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  • 4 weeks later...

I am glad, that my readers enjoy this humble beginning. When I am able to make the effort, and am in a story-telling mood, I will write the continuation of this story (and other stories to be revised or continued).

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