Bob was always on the hunt for a good workout music mix, something that would keep him going, but nothing that would draw his focus away from his workout. He’d been working out for a few months now, and he liked the progress he’d made, dropping some weight off and gaining some energy, but the weekly routine was starting to wear on him. He tried a few playlists over the next week, but he didn’t really enjoy any of them until he found a link to a “Zone Out Mix” on a weightlifting website.

He gave it a try during his next workout, and zone out was definitely an accurate description. He accidentally ended up staying at the gym for an extra hour, and he hadn’t even noticed. He couldn’t actually recall what the music on the playlist had been, and the thing came as one long playlist, so he couldn’t break it apart. Still, it became his regular workout track, and before long his four days at the gym had become six, and his hour and a half routine had grown to three. In fact, the gym had started cutting into some of his friendships, and he ended up cutting off his girlfriend of two years. She’d been harping about him going to the gym all the time, but he needed to get bigger, right? That was all that was really important.

It was soon after he’d broken up with her that the insomnia started. He was getting maybe two or three hours of sleep a night, and it was getting hard to focus at work, and the zone out mix was the only thing that kept him going to the gym. Now, he could barely remember being at the gym anymore. He’d put the mix on as he left his apartment to jog to the gym, and would come to back in his apartment three or four hours later, exhausted, every muscle on fire.

On one sleepless night, on the internet, he found another file by the guy who’d made the Zone Out Mix, a track designed to help people sleep. Desperate for a good night’s rest at this point, he downloaded it and listened to it on his earbuds, and had the first restful night he’d had in weeks. Thankful, he also found a second Zone Out Mix, and downloaded that as well. Before too long, his periods of lucidity were growing fewer and farther between. He woke up in the bathroom staring at his muscular body, and saw that he’d shaven off all of his hair–all of it. His scalp, his beard, his body, his pubes. Still, it looked real damn good.

Another time, he came to on his bed, a thick, seven inch dildo rammed deep in his ass. He yanked it out, terrified of what he was doing, but zoned out again almost immediately, and came to hours later, coated in his own cum, and from that moment on, going without something in his ass was nearly impossible. He never met his master–eventually, he simply zoned out so deep that he never came back. He abandoned his apartment and moved in with his master across the country, just another muscle beast working out all day, and pimped out to wealthy men every night, eyes empty, mouth drooling around the parade of cocks that were rammed down his throat, happy as could be.

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