TRUE NORTH CALIBRATION
His white AirPods were synced. The Big Dumb Jock Hypno file was a droning in his ears, looping the command: Empty the mind… Fill the muscle… Solid Gold… True North…
Coach stepped into the rack, his massive shadow falling over Wells like an eclipse. He reached up, his heavy, calloused fingers brushing the white stems of the AirPods before resting firmly on the sides of Wells’ neck.
"Focus, Wells" Coach’s voice was a tectonic rumble, perfectly timed to the hypnotic beat in Wells’ ears. "I see that Red Leaf on your chest. It’s a symbol of where you came from. But today, we’re recalibrating what 'Strong and Free' really means. You’re free from the weight of choice. You’re strong because you don’t have to think."
Coach’s thumbs pressed into the base of Wells' skull.
"Stress? Dump it. Worry? Dump it. There is only the Gold flowing in your veins and the iron on your back. Give it all to me. Become the machine the North needs."
Wells’ green eyes went wide, then glazed over into a perfect, glassy stare. The "Alpha" remained, but the "Man" had been vacuum-sealed away. The Red Maple Leaf on his chest pulsed with his heavy, rhythmic breathing.
"Now," Coach whispered, his lips inches from Wells' ear. "Pump it."
Wells descended into a deep, agonizingly slow squat. The metallic gold of his tights flared as his quads exploded with blood flow. He didn’t feel the strain; he only felt the directive. He hit the bottom of the rep, the gold-plated iron groaning.
"Drive, Wells! Show me that Northern Force!" Coach roared.
Wells exploded upward, his teeth bared, his muscles bulging with a terrifying, mindless power. As he racked the weight, Coach stepped in front of him, gripping the front of Wells' shirt, right over the Red Leaf and pulling him close until their weightlifting belts were grinding together.
"Good. That’s the 'True North' standard," Coach purred, looking into Wells’ vacant, obedient eyes. He let his hand slide down from the shirt, his fingers hooked firmly and possessively into the waistband of the metallic gold tights, pulling him flush against his own frame.
"You've maxed out the rack, boy. Now your body is primed, your head is empty, and I've got a much more… rigorous way to use all this gold-wrapped muscle. Come on. I'm going to see exactly how much of this 'True North' strength I can claim for myself."
Wells' jaw went slack, a mindless, hungry look crossing his face as he followed the dominant tug of Coach's hand toward the empty locker room.
Are you tired of carrying the weight of your own mind? Let Coach lighten the load and find a better use for your mass. Report to the Golden Army Gym for your private evaluation: Contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-166, @franco-gold94, @polo-drone-125
