Troy wasn’t exactly the sharpest guy when we first met, but back then, at least he could form full sentences. He was my college roommate—a six-foot-four, gym-obsessed wall of muscle who somehow balanced his protein-shake-fueled lifestyle with being a student. Well, tried to, anyway. It didn’t take long before he started asking me for “help.”
“Bro, I need to get bigger,” he had groaned one night, staring at himself in our dorm mirror, flexing his arms. “But, like, I dunno, bro… I feel like I ain’t doing enough, y’know?”
I adjusted my glasses and leaned back in my chair, hiding my smirk. Oh, I know. I had been waiting for this moment.
“You need a system, Troy,” I said. “Someone to guide you. Someone… smart.”
His eyes lit up. “Like you, bro?”
I nodded. “Exactly like me.”
And just like that, I had him.
The plan was subtle at first. I started with supplements—my own special mix, designed to boost his energy, accelerate his gains, and, well… gently suppress his higher thinking. The changes crept in slowly, so Troy never noticed. But I did.
He stopped questioning things. If I told him to do something, he’d do it—no hesitation.
“Skip that lecture. You don’t need it.”
“Yeah, bro, waste of time.”
Each day, he lifted heavier weights while his thoughts got lighter. His sentences got shorter. His vocabulary shrank. But he felt great, and that’s all that mattered to him.
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At first, I had to be careful. There were still traces of thought left in that thick skull of his. I learned that the hard way when I got too bold too soon.
One day, while he was sitting on his bed scrolling through his phone, I took the opportunity to get a little… hands-on.
“Damn, Troy,” I murmured, moving closer. “You’ve really packed on some size.”
He smirked, flexing his arm. “Hell yeah, bro. Feels tight.”
I reached out, letting my fingers graze over his biceps, testing their firmness. Perfect.
“Uh, dude?” His expression shifted, uncomfortable. He pulled his arm away. “Kinda weird, man. Like, chill.”
I forced a laugh, raising my hands. “Hey, just admiring the work, dude.”
He gave me a wary look, then shrugged it off, going back to his phone. But I made a mental note. Too soon. There was still something in him that resisted. I’d have to fix that.
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By the time we hit week three, Troy was skipping every single class. His idea, of course—or so he thought.
“Dude,” I said one morning, watching him struggle to put on a tank top that barely fit his swelling torso. “College isn’t really for guys like you, y’know?”
He frowned, his thick brows scrunching. “Huh?”
“I mean, look at you, Troy. You were born to lift, to grow. You really think wasting time in lectures is gonna help you get swole?”
His lips moved slightly, like he was trying to process what I’d said, but I could see the gears in his head turning slower than before.
“Uh… yeah, bro,” he finally said, nodding. “Yeah! You right! I gotta, like… focus, bro. Just—just LIFT. Get BIG.”
And just like that, Troy stopped attending College entirely.
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By week five, he had completely surrendered his decision-making to me without realizing it. He thought he was in control.
“Bro, should I eat this?”
“What do you think, Troy?”
His blank stare lasted a second too long. Then: “Uh… I think… I dunno, bro. You think for me.”
He nodded, beaming, completely unaware of how empty his own head had become. I had done it. Troy wasn’t just dumb anymore. He was mine.
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6 months has passed since then, and now? Now I could touch him as much as I wanted.
“Hey, Troy,” I murmured, running my fingers along his thick arm. “You cool with this?”
Troy blinked, his dopey grin unwavering. “Huh? Uh… yeah, bro. I don’t mind.”
I squeezed his bicep, watching the way his muscle flexed under my grip. Perfection. “Why’s that?”
He tilted his head, slow to process. “’Cause… uh… I’m just… muscle, bro.”
I smirked. “That’s right. You’re just muscle. Just a big, strong body. No need to think, right?”
Troy’s lips parted slightly. “Yeah, bro. Just… body.”
I ran a hand down his chest, pressing into his pecs, feeling their firm weight. No resistance. Nothing but dumb compliance. My fingers brushed under his arm, grazing the warm, musky skin of his armpit. The scent hit me instantly—strong, masculine, overpowering.
“Man, you really are just a muscle,” I murmured, inhaling deeply. “Crazy, right? You used to think this was weird.”
Troy’s slack expression didn’t change. “Huh? Uh… nah, bro. Ain’t weird.”
I chuckled. “Oh, but you did think it was weird before. Remember?”
His forehead scrunched slightly, trying to think. “Uh… nah, bro. I don’t… remember.”
I grinned, giving his pec a playful squeeze. “Of course you don’t. Because a muscle doesn’t need memories.”
Troy nodded slowly. “Yeah, bro… just muscle.”
“Just a muscle that belongs to me, huh?”
There was a pause. Then, with a slow, stupid nod: “Yeah, bro. Yours.”
I smirked and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “You don’t need this, do you?”
Troy blinked, watching as I pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. His bare torso gleamed under the light, thick with sweat, pulsing with heat.
“Just a big, dumb toy for me to play with,” I murmured, trailing my hands across his chest, his stomach, his arms. “And you’re fine with that, aren’t you?”
Troy’s lips curled into a mindless smile. “Yeah, bro… fine with it.”
I dug my fingers into his flexed bicep, relishing the way he didn’t even flinch as I placed my fingers dip into the crevices of his bicep to his armpits...
This dumb muscle hunk is really far gone. all his work, all his excursion, all his efforts to build this majestic body, all of it is all mine.
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