“Smile for me,” Geoff said.John bared teeth, but it was no smile. His sprawling back arched, every ridge bright beneath the lights. Gay porn John had once believed in abundant capitalism; Joe Rogan told him hard work paid. Now accept forgiveness.”It was now Muskelone’s turn to kneel. The crowd winced. Each abdominal block surfaced. You’re a caught animal,” he said, low and flat. A mesh harness fired from overhead cannons and wrapped him mid‑stride. Marching songs thumped against his ribs, gilded slogans flashed across his torso, and a smiling mouth hovered between flexed slabs of muscle. Sparse tufts clung to a blotchy scalp.Beside Bezos’ lean clone, Muskelone looked like a hospital waste bag stitched to kitchen hardware. With federal grants gone and stock crushed by executive tweets, the fallen mogul rebuilt himself in secret labs, swapping promise for spare parts. The program offered one escape: performance. The hunks face contorted with conflict as he lifted his muscled arms to strike the monster. A warm pulse flickered in his asshole, the Loop’s reward for flawless form. “We finish the count today,” he promised.He dropped into a single kneel with rehearsed jock ease, quads flourishing.
