#visualdirectives

The heavy, rhythmic bass of the "Big Dumb Jock" Hypnosis mp3 file thumps against my eardrums, a steady, hypnotic pulse that’s slowly turning my brain into a blissful vacuum. Thump. Thump. Thump. With every beat, the complex defensive schemes and the names of the Crimson Frost Giants players melt away. I don't need to know their names. I just need to be a bigger, dumber, more solid object than whatever tries to cross my line.

I’m locked into the rack for the "Brick Wall" Isometric Holds. My shoulders are wedged under the cold, unyielding steel of a barbell loaded far beyond my max. I’m not lifting it; I’m just driving into it. My feet are planted, my cleats digging deep into the turf, and my metallic gold football kit is stretched so tight across my back and quads that it looks like liquid metal.

“Empty head. Thick neck. Solid gold,” the voice in the audio purrs.

I growl, my face flushing a deep red as I exert maximum force against the bar. My veins are corded like high-voltage cables across my arms and neck. My mind is gone, replaced by a single, shimmering directive: Do not move. Be the wall.

“Looking solid, Wells,” a deep, familiar voice cuts through the haze.

I don't turn my head, I can't. But I see Coach move into my peripheral vision. He’s looking lethal in his light gray, shiny metallic DADDY shirt, the fabric gleaming as he crosses his massive arms. He reaches out, his hand resting firmly on my sweat-slicked shoulder, checking the tension of the muscle.

“Your head looks nice and empty, Wells,” Coach purrs, leaning in so his silver whistle brushes my jersey. “That’s it. Just a big, strong, golden tool for me to use this weekend. Keep driving. I want that neck even thicker, I want you thicker, bigger, stronger, faster”. "That's it, you're Coach's big dumb jock, aren't you boy".

Just then, Alton wanders by, pausing to watch the display of raw, golden aggression. He looks over at Coach, then back at me, seeing the glazed, vacant look in my eyes as I continue to strain against the rack.

“Man, he’s really gone into the zone today, he looks bigger everyday,” Alton says, sounding impressed by the sheer physical output. "You're doing a great job training, um yeah training him Coach" says Alton as once again looks Wells up and and down and gives Coach's body a once over as well.

“He’s exactly where I want him,” Coach replies, his voice full of dominant pride. “Aren't you, Wells?”

I can’t speak. I just grunt, a primal, obedient sound of agreement, my eyes locked on the steel bar as the "Big Dumb Jock" loop starts again. I am the wall. And the Crimson Frost Giants are going to break against me.

The Crimson Frost Giants are coming, but the Wall is ready. Brain off, mass on. Contact our recruiters to join the line: @polo-drone-001, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-166 or @polo-drone-125.