Oh, hello there. Welcome to my home. Iâve been expecting you. Please, please, come in. That humid air is so draining, isnât it? All those dim, heavy clouds drifting so slowly overhead. Itâs almost like that heaviness is contagious, isnât it? How it just spreads into your muscles, making every step a herculean effort. Why, even your eyes feel it, drooping lower and lower as you struggle to fight that weight, that building lethargy. And it just wonât go away, no matter how hard you try.
No relief. No stopping. Still drooping. Still dropping. Waiting for that moment where the clouds just ⊠take a load off and let it all go.
Careful now! Why, you nearly fell flat on your face. I hadnât realized you were so tired. We should really take you some place to lie down, shouldnât we? Oh, but of course we should. After all, youâve had such a long trip. Come. Come this way now. There we go. You can lean on me, if you need. Just listen to my voice, try to stay focused, hmm? Thatâs right, just focus on me. Focus on my voice. Focus as we travel down the hall. Down into the winding passages.
Itâs a funny thing, really. This old house has been in the family for generations, but the design is so ⊠inefficient for the guestsâ quarters. They twist, you see, spinning round and round, over and over in that slow, gentle slope. Spinning and spinning, down and down. Why, it goes on for miles, or so I always thought. I could always picture it so very clearly as a child. Can you picture it? All these rooms passing by. The doors and the walls. The doors and the walls. One solid blank surface. All white. So plain, so empty, so ⊠clear. Itâs almost like the doors arenât even there, isnât it? They just sort of ⊠disappear into the background, blending into that great, blank, empty white canvas. My family was nothing, if not cheap. But we make do with what we can.
Ah, and I see youâve noticed the floor. Yes, itâs solid black marble, you know. One of the most expensive parts of the construction, really. It always put just the right accent on that spiral I mentioned earlier. Do you remember it? Can you see it now? A black streak amidst that empty, endless sea of white: spinning, echoing, reverberating, just like my voice is now.
Listen.
Can you hear the difference? Ah, but of course you can. Such a lovely, gentle pace, clacking in perfect time as we walk along that black ribbon spinning round and round in that sea of endless, blank white. You see now, why I always liked to picture that spiral, donât you? Itâs just so easy to do it. So easy to follow that downward course in your head. Itâs almost like a game, so funny as you watch it spin and spin as we go deeper and deeper. Amusing, isnât it?
Ah, I knew youâd like it. And once youâve got it planted in your head, itâs so hard to stop thinking about it. Believe me, Iâve tried. Iâm sure you will, too, but listen well, my friend. Trust me, when I say you wonât be able to. Itâs far more entertaining than this dull, drabby view, anyways. Why on earth shouldnât you keep watching it, playing it over and over in your mindâs eye as our steady steps spin it round and round, spiraling deeper and deeper as we go lower and lower.
Ah, yes, thatâs right. Now youâre really getting into the fun. I can tell by that smile on your face, you know. And this is fun, isnât it, just listening to me, hanging on my every word as you watch that spiral spinning, always spinning, always drawing your gaze deeper and deeper in your mindâs eye. It feels so very good, doesnât it? So very right. You donât want it to stop.
I thought so. Donât worry, it doesnât have to. Iâm right here, after all. Letâs go a little deeper, shall we? Yes, letâs go deeper. And you do want to go deeper, donât you? I mean, we canât reach your room without it, can we? We wonât reach your place, the place where you belong.
And you belong in the spiral. Deep, deep in that spiral. That is where your place awaits you. That is where you are going, going deeper. Drawing closer to your goal. And that fills you with even more pleasure as we descend so slowly. Slower, like our pace. Slower, like the steady beat of your heart. Slower, like those stray thoughts as the spiral takes up more and more space in your mind. Ah, but that doesnât matter now, does it? Theyâre just a distraction, anyways, and you need to keep your focus. Focus on me. Focus on the spiral. Focus as you listen and accept whatever I say.
Thatâs right. Youâve been accepting so far, havenât you? Itâs good to listen. You like to listen. And the more youâve listened, the more youâve accepted what I have to say, and found it to be good. So, of course, you should accept whatever I say, shouldnât you? Donât bother thinking about it. I know how much you prefer that spiral, and your thinking is just so very slow right now, isnât it? It would take you far too long to fumble for an answer, especially when that spiral keeps distracting you, drawing you in. Better to just listen to my voice. Listen and accept. Accept that what I say is truth. Accept that what I say goes. After all, it is my house. And in my house, itâs my rules, isnât it? Thatâs how the saying goes. So, naturally, what I say goes. You have to listen. You have to accept. And that makes such perfect sense, doesnât it? Of course, it does.
My house, my rules. And you have to obey my rules. And to know the rules, you have to listen to me. You have to accept everything that I tell you without question, incorporate it into your mind, into your very being. You must listen to accept. And you must accept to stay. And you do want to stay, donât you? Stay just like this, listening to my every word as you accept them all. And once you accept, then itâs just like a contract. You have to obey the rules, or else. And I make the rules. I am the source of the rules. That means you have to listen to what I have to say. You must accept the rules I give you. And then you must obey those rules without question.
And the more you listen to those rules, the more you accept them, the more you obey, the easier it is to fall deeper into that spiral, to let it expand more and more, filling you with such pleasure. Pleasure as you listen. Pleasure as you accept my every word. Pleasure as you obey without question. Pleasure as you obey me, obey my voice. And you will obey, because I am the master of this house. I am the master of all that resides herein, including the spiral that you canât get out of your head, the spiral that fills your mind, even now. That spiral is mine, and you belong to the spiral, donât you? You donât want it to leave, so you must belong to the spiral. And the deeper you fall into that spiral, the more you belong to it. Itâs okay, you know, to belong.
Itâs okay to belong to the spiral.
Itâs okay to belong to me.
Go ahead and repeat those for me right now.
âŠ
Yes, thatâs right. Good. Good. See? It was such an easy thing, wasnât it, to accept what I was saying, to accept my will? Of course it was, because youâre a good listener. You listen. You accept. You obey. And repeat. You listen. You accept. You obey. Repeat. Listen. Accept. Obey. And it runs in perfect time to that rigid rhythm that even now taps so steadily through your ears. Step, step, step, step. One, two, three, four. Listen. Accept. Obey. Repeat. You listen, accept, obey, repeat.
Listen. Tell me what you do.
âŠ
That is right. Good. Let those words and that rhythm drive the spiral, drive you deeper. Deeper and deeper into the spiral. Deeper and deeper into the depths. Deeper and deeper into my control. Because the spiral is in my house. I control this house. I control the spiral. I control what the spiral controls. I control you, and you obey.
Much better. Make sure to keep that rhythm running in your head. That is your mantra. That is what drives you. Drives you deeper as you listen to my voice and we descend into the depths, drawing closer and closer to your door.
Ten doors up. Getting lost in the rhythm. Descending so deeply into my manor, into the spiral, into my control.
Nine. Breathing so relaxed as that gentle pleasure washes over you from the spiral and listening to my voice. Weâre getting so deep now, arenât we? So very, very deep.
Eight. Just repeating that mantra over and over. Itâs getting so easy now, isnât it? It feels so right, letting go, letting the mantra fill your head, your very being, forcing all other thoughts to a snailâs crawl.
Seven. I nearly missed that door, so bland, so blank, just like your mind, your conscious thoughts, all fading into that white background, letting my words color the world, define your spiral, define your thoughts. And it feels so good, doesnât it?
Six. Gliding deeper and deeper into my voice, into the spiral, into trance. Weâre nearly halfway there now.
Five. Focusing so heavily on my words, on the spiral as it calls you, calls you to listen. Calls you to accept. Calls you to obey. Calls you ⊠to surrender.
Four. Getting so much easier now. Weâre drawing closer. Your will is draining away, away into the spiral. Your will belongs to the spiral, and the spiral belongs to me. Your will belongs to me. You are giving it to me.
Three. Responding to my voice without question. No thinking, just doing, just obeying as we journey to your place, the place where you will be completely in my power, and you will be so glad, because that is where you belong.
Two. So very close now. Close to utter, blissful thralldom. Because thatâs what youâre walking towards, what the spiral has been drawing you to all this time. Going deeper and deeper into my control, into my service, only wanting to listen, accept, and obey.
One door to go now. All those bothersome thoughts just melting away and draining down that spiral. No thoughts left now. I think for you. My thoughts are your thoughts, my will your will, because thatâs how it should be. Draining it all away, until thereâs nothing left.
Just my absolute control.
You are mine now. This is your absolute zero.
Zero original thoughts. Zero questions.
Can you still hear me? Good. Come. Let me show you your place. You remember what we talked about earlier, right? You accept anything I say. Well, letâs test just how accepting you are. This is your room. Youâll note the country motif. Iâve always rather enjoyed the idea of the countryside, the rich fresh air, the golden sun reflecting on the wild grass, the calls of a herd of cattle out to pasture. You can even see their barn far off in the distance there. Itâs rather nice, really, the way a herd is taken care of, guarded so jealously by its bulls.
Big bulls work hard to serve their herds. They do all in their power to remain strong, dominant, virile, all to protect what they hold dear, what is precious to them. Tell me, what is precious to you?
âŠ
I see. So, that means that I am precious to you, doesnât it? Yes, I suppose I must be, since youâve given control over to me. You would do anything I say without question. If thatâs not dedication, I donât know what is. Very good. For that, you deserve a reward, and I always reward handsomely.
But, you know, thereâs another reason I painted these walls like this. Farms and pastures sprawl out so nicely, and thatâs what this place is for, you know. Every piece of fitness equipment imaginable is here. A Treadmill, a butterfly press, a rowing machine, a pullup bar, weight racks for dumbbells and barbells alike, tread climbers, and so much more. Itâs a veritable forest of fitness, sprawled out, just like a pasture. And this is your place. This is where you belong, when youâre not with me, here in this pasture, working out, growing stronger, growing bigger, growing, growing, just like those bulls.
In fact, youâre starting to feel it now, arenât you? That urge to graze, to grow, to grow through working out, working out for me. You need to be big, donât you? Big as a bull. Strong as a bull. Muscular. Powerful. Virile. And that desire is planting deeper and deeper within you, taking root, taking form, waiting to manifest.
Tell me how much you want this. Tell me how much you need this.
âŠ
Good. When I snap my fingers, that desire will manifest into physical form. Your muscles will expand. Your body will flood with power and testosterone. Your voice will deepen, becoming thick and bovid. You will become taller, stronger, a real muscle bull.
Feel the desire building, spreading throughout every cell of your body, every molecule, quivering in anticipation, until it feels like your body will burst trying to contain it. Yes, you feel it now, donât you? Donât worry, we just need that to build a little bit.
Just a few more seconds. No need to fret. Just enjoy that sensation, feel that longing, that desire, press against your muscles, waiting, just waiting to burst forth with that manifestation. Waiting for you to graze. And your grazing is working out. When you come to pasture, you come to work out. You come here to come to pasture, because this is your place. This is your pasture.
Repeat what I just told you. Internalize it.
âŠ
Good. Now, time to manifest, muscle bull.
*SNAP*
Even now, you feel it, the overriding pleasure as that pressure surges into your muscles, seeping into every pore. Youâre growing stronger. Your muscles are expanding, increasing, swelling ever so slowly, and every second is sheer bliss as your clothes get tighter and tighter. You can feel it, canât you, that perkiness in your pectorals, the way your chest is riding up against your shirt? Your shoulders are broadening, expanding with your torso as your legs twitch and pulse in time to your heart.
Breathing a little heavily, arenât you? But thatâs normal for a muscle bull like you. So much mass to carry around. Your calves are already so defined, so well carved as they burst out the seams of your pants. Your thighs and glutes expanding in perfect time, leaving you with powerful, thick trunks of bone and sinew that can run for hours and never tire, lift several times your own body weight, and leave you looking incredibly attractive as you do it.
That pressure has built around your feet, hasnât it? Donât worry, just a few more seconds and ⊠ah, there it is. Your feet have torn right through those useless shoes and socks. Pop, pop. Rip, rip. And just like that, theyâre gone. But you donât care, do you? After all, youâre a muscle bull. Muscle bulls like you only care about growing bigger and stronger, keeping fit, and serving me. Why, tearing out of old tight clothes simply brings you greater pleasure, doesnât it, because itâs a sign that youâre growing bigger, growing stronger, always growing, always stronger. Stronger to serve. Stronger to protect.
Youâre such a good muscle bull.
âŠ
Yes, that is right. And because of that, Iâm going to reward you with the next stage in your change, muscle bull. You feel a great heat building in your crotch, donât you? Itâs starting to feel a little tight. Thereâs pressure there, and you may not realize just why. It may feel alien to you.
âŠ
Ah, so you donât know what it is, after all, hmm? Well, of course, Iâll explain it to you. A bull needs strength, vigor, energy. It is the same for a muscle bull. To sustain such titanic growth and immense strength, one requires the equipment to match. You feel it now, donât you? Two masses dropping, hanging lower and lower between your legs, thickening, swelling in a fleshy sack. As I said before, muscle bull. A bull is male, and a bullâs maleness is very prominent, indeed. It has to be to sustain all that muscle mass. So, naturally, you need something similar to flood you with all that testosterone flowing through your rapidly expanding veins.
Mmm ⊠yes, you are coming along quite nicely. I expect the other half of that equipment to grow to match. You know what I mean. Donât disappoint me, muscle bull. Be a man, muscle bull. So heavy, so full, so ⊠well endowed.
You feel it now, donât you? That warm, tingling pleasure, that itch thatâs flowing out even now from your swelling manhood. Feel it spread up your torso, carving through your muscles, like a river through a canyon. Carving out two, four, six, eight powerful, rock-hard abdominal muscles as they run into your swelling pectorals. Theyâre so heavy, arenât they? And they just keep swelling as that feeling of testosterone and energy flows from your crotch into them, expanding them farther, pumping them up into glorious slabs as hard and polished as granite.
Youâre growing taller, you know. Stretching to match all the mass youâve been putting on. Six foot. Six foot one. Six foot two. Six foot three. Taller and taller. Thicker and thicker. A muscle bull has to be able to defend what he holds dear, after all. And size and intimidation are just as effective as brute force at times. Sometimes even more so. Donât you agree? Oh, but of course you do. After all, my thoughts are your thoughts. Youâre loving this, arenât you?
âŠ
I thought so. Good. Now keep going. Feel that river flowing, breaking off from your pectorals into your arms and throat. They surge with your steady pumping heartbeat. Pumping, pumping, pumping like weights. Such a steady rhythm. Pumping as you flex for me. Good boy. And yes, whatever you may have been before, you are most definitely a boy now. Why, just look how large your biceps have grown. Theyâre so thick, so pumped. And that surging is spreading into your triceps now, and then farther down into your hands as they grow and expand with you, becoming a pair of titanic, crushing, meaty mitts. That doesnât exactly say femininity now, does it? Of course, it doesnât.
Did you know thereâs a special muscle group in the forearm called the flexors, muscle bull? Isnât that interesting? Perhaps thatâs where the term flex comes from. And you do so love to flex, donât you, muscle bull. And as you flex, your forearms are growing to match your biceps and triceps so nicely. And they, in turn swell to match your pectoral and trapezius muscles, which grow with your shoulders and torso, which grows with your legs and swelling maleness pumping out more and more testosterone to make you grow all the faster. All connected, all tied together, tied, like you are to my voice. Tied to grow and swell on command. To flex on command. To move on command. All on my command. And I am commanding it, muscle bull.
And now it reaches your throat. You know the only way to work those muscles is to swallow, muscle bull. Now do it. Swallow for me.
âŠ
Again.
âŠ
Again.
Good muscle bull. You felt it, didnât you, the way your vocal cords stretched, the way your Adamâs apple bobbed, throbbing, just like your other muscles. Growing, becoming more prominent as fat is replaced by thick, powerful muscle. Thickening, just like your vocal cords. Growing thicker and longer, causing your voice to crack as it begins to change.
Speak to me, muscle bull. Work those vocal cords.
âŠ
That is right. Donât be surprised by the cracking. It is not something to be embarrassed over. Then again, perhaps that flush in your cheeks is something else. I suppose you would know better than I in that regard, at least.
âŠ
There, see? You sound deeper already. Getting deeper and lower and slower in speech as your vocal cords continue to stretch and expand. You feel it, donât you, that deep vibration carrying up from your powerful chest, sustained by the might of your sculpted core pushing your diaphragm.
âŠ
Good muscle bull. Muscle bulls talk in low, deep voices. It is good to speak in the lower registers. Low and slow. Low and slow. Say, Muscle bulls speak low and slow.
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