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[b][u][center]Ephemeral Takeover: Deimos

Part 1

For Ratter

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Deimos grunted as he entered the gym, the tall, pale-furred bull huffing to himself as he tugged at his tie, his shirt, and the extremities of his suit. There was something off about the way that he moved, something slightly unconscious that went beyond mere habit. He almost looked like he didn’t know where he was.

Which he probably didn’t, considering the way that this whole thing had started. Deimos groaned, rubbing his head with his free hand as his shirt fell to the floor. He looked around his private gym, his eyes resting on the bench press, the shoulder pulls, and other machines that had been bought one by one. The CEO muttered something to himself, his mouth moving but no sound coming out.

Finally, he shook his head, making his way to the bench press in nothing but a pair of briefs. No, a jock; much clearer as he walked by, his ass cheeks hanging out, but so solid that they were more like…bouncing bubbles. Hard, firm, looking like one could bounce a coin off them and there would be scarcely a ripple. Much, much better than the side of slightly fatty beef that had been there before.

Deimos sat down, looking straight ahead. His eyes dulled for a moment, mouth hanging open -

“Go on…”

The whisper came from nowhere, and the bull sat up a little straighter. A faint hint of a bulge stirred beneath his jockstrap as he looked back at the barbells. The weights were…

Yes. They were right. Two hundred-fifty pounds in total, plus the weight of the bar itself. That had been his record before, and -

Clench.

Clench.

The bull’s pecs pulled tight, lifting up and falling down. His nipples pointed forward just as hard, stiffening in the cool gym air. He laid down under the bar, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t huff - he never did that anymore, not while he was working out - but just breathed evenly. Strong hands reached up, wrapped around the metal bar, and [i]pushed.[/i]

A soft sigh of satisfaction filled the room as Deimos pushed the bar off its resting point, the sudden flex of muscle and stiffening of hard tissue showing through his fur making all those gains so much more obvious. He stared dead-eyed toward the ceiling as he slowly lowered the bar, letting it fall bit by bit until it rested just over his pecs.

“Breathe in…”

The bull did. His chest rose, his pecs pressing against the bottom of the bar. A vein pulsed, popped, showed itself along his left arm.

“Breathe out.”

He let it out just as slowly, his pecs falling, but everything still stayed so…so beautifully obvious. Hard abs, thick arms, firm pectorals. His thighs clenched as he pressed down, adjusting himself ever so slightly.

“And…go.”

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Each motion was smooth as butter. Gone were the little tremors of effort that had once plagued the bull’s form, and forgotten were the little spasms of pain that came from the weights way back when. Two hundred-fifty pounds, plus the bar, was nothing to him now. It went up, down, up, down, with ease.

“Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Good.”

Deimos clicked the bar back into place. He blinked, staring at the ceiling past the metal obstruction. A bit of confusion danced across his face, a little twist at the corner of his muzzle as he tried to sort it out -

“Up.”

And then his face went blank again. He moved away from the bench press, taking the couple of steps that placed him right in front of the mirror. A pair of weights came off the rack - did he pick them up, or were they given to him? The bull clearly didn’t know.

“And squat.”

Deimos dropped, his ass cheeks almost touching the ground. He held the position, everything thrust back, his hands resting at his sides, his eyes fixed on his reflection.

And over that reflection, hovering out of sight of the bull’s vacant eyes, was the source of all the commands. J.A.P.T.S. stood there, ghostly, barely visible even to himself. The starry-furred feline was like a gaseous genie in shape, gaps in place between his forearms and his hands, and his lower half tapered off like a wisp of smoke looking for a gap to slide into. His hands trailed down the shoulders of the bull before him, tracing the lines and divots in the muscles that had been growing bit by bit over the last few months.

“Mmmm, this is wonderful…”

Deimos didn’t respond, of course. He wouldn’t until he had finished all his commands. Spacing in and out of reality, barely aware of what he was doing, let alone why. He came here every day after work, always looking for another workout, always looking for that next burst of power that came with it.

Strong.

Thick.

Hard.

Powerful.

J.A.P.T.S. enjoyed the show, of course, but the feline enjoyed the slow perfection of the body before him all the more. A few more weeks, and Deimos would be the perfect host for him. A wonderful, muscle-bound bull that just needed someone to nudge him on the right path through the world.

“Up.”

The bull grunted as he dragged himself upright again. Once, that movement would have utterly ripped through him, leaving him whimpering. The weights in each hand, at least seventy pounds each, would have yanked him right back down to a squat.

Now?

Now, he stood with practiced ease, his form perfect as he got back to his feet. He stared in the mirror, arm muscles standing out as he clenched and released.

“Down.”

Deimos was so good at following orders. He might not have been possessed just yet, but he still did everything he was told. Most hosts would have never fallen so quickly under someone else’s influence, but this bull almost seemed to want the guidance.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

The constant flow of motion was just short of being too fast. He would hit the bottom of his squat, his ass cheeks pushed back just enough to start spreading them from how muscular they were, only for him to push upward and rise to his feet before he could start bobbing and bouncing down there.

Up, down, up, down.

It didn’t take long to reach the end of a set, and as he always did, the bull stopped in his tracks. He stared at the mirror afterward, a hint of awareness coming back, a bit of that mind behind the muscles peering through.

J.A.P.T.S. wondered, sometimes, if there was a possibility that the bull would see him rather than just mindlessly through through the workout routine. He hadn’t so far, and he was honestly unsure if his future host could be aware of just how much he’d been manipulated. Not much there to be aware of; J.A.P.T.S. was very good at staying out of the way, and his work was always subtle, pushing things slowly, taking his time to get what he wanted.

Deimos, likely, would never know that there was anything different…despite the fact that he’d gone somewhere in the six-foot range to seven-foot solid, and had become a complete mountain of muscle. J.A.P.T.S. chuckled. He supposed that it was down to someone else to tell this bull that he’d changed, and from what J.A.P.T.S. had seen at the bull’s workplace, nobody was going to tell their CEO that something was off.

Not without getting some reprisal, at any rate.

“Again…”

He rested his disembodied hands on those firm pecs, enjoying the pulse, pulse, pulse of the other man’s heart. Deimos reached up for the barbell, staring past it with that same empty gaze as before. His fingers tightened, running through fur that he couldn’t quite touch, strands that his digits couldn’t quite disturb.

“Soon,” J.A.P.T.S. muttered. “Soon.”

It was almost tempting to reach down and kiss the other man’s cheek. He doubted that it would be felt, but there was something almost intimate between the two of them at this point. The fact that he was going to possess the other man in a little while meant that they were incidentally quite intimate.

It wasn’t being boyfriends, or anything close, but…there was something to be said about impending possession. One couldn’t help but feel rather proud and close to the person that would be one’s host.

He cupped the bull’s cheeks as he pumped iron, up, down, up, down, and he chuckled to himself as he did. Oh, what Deimos would say if he knew what was floating just over him.

“Soon,” J.A.P.T.S. repeated.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A bull is exercising without knowing why.

Tags: M/solo, Semi-Possession, Mind Control, Body Control, Bull, Feline, Ghostly Thing, Jockstrap, Muscles, Self-Improvement, Impending Possession,