fluoride1337
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In the dimly lit dorm room of Clavicular, a looksmaxxer known for his intense bonesmashing routines and frequent bouncermaxxing stories, a storm was brewing. His posts on looksmax.org—the sacred forum for all those who sought to ascend to god-tier looks—had attracted the wrong kind of attention. Unbeknownst to Clavicular, a lurking rival had screencapped his threads and sent them to the most feared figure in the school: the Dean.
The door burst open, and Clavicular, with his meticulously sculpted jawline and bulging muscles from months of roidcel stacks, stood frozen.
Dean-sama walked in, his presence overwhelming. "Clavicular-kun," he said, voice stern yet almost fatherly, "I’ve received some... troubling reports."
Clavicular clenched his fists, the veins in his forearms bulging like the twisted branches of an ancient tree. His bonesmashing hammer lay quietly in the corner, the tool of his nightly rituals to achieve that chiseled, warrior-like visage. He tried to play it cool, but the beads of sweat betrayed him. "W-What reports, Dean-sama?" he asked, his voice wavering.
Dean-sama raised an eyebrow, pulling out a stack of printed forum posts, each one marked with Clavicular's signature name and avatar: a gif of a chad clubmaxxing. “These,” he said, flipping through the pages, "are your posts on a certain looksmax.org forum. ‘Bouncermaxxing for the win, roidcel gains incoming’? ‘MTB slay report’? Do you deny these are yours?"
Clavicular's heart sank. His dreams of being an elite bouncermaxxer, hooking up with stacy-tier women every night, and becoming a god among men—all that could be ripped away in an instant. “Dean-sama, y-you don’t understand. It’s all part of the grind! The looksmaxxing life is a small price to pay for...for ascension!”
Dean-sama sighed, deeply disappointed. "Clavicular-kun, this school has rules. And not only are you publicly advocating for dangerous, unethical practices—bonesmashing? Really?—but we had reason to suspect you’ve been... enhancing your looks with illegal substances. That’s why your room will be searched."
“No!” Clavicular yelled, his hand reaching out dramatically. “Dean-sama, please! You don’t understand! Bouncermaxxing is the only way! I need the edge, I need the roidcel gains! The steroids are part of the—”
But before he could finish, the door slammed open again, and a group of security officers entered. They tore through his meticulously arranged supplement stacks, flipping through bottles of creatine and protein powders. And then, hidden underneath his normie supplements, they found it. The stash. Several vials of steroids, syringes carefully packed next to his lemonbottle and PDO threads.
One of the officers held the vials up, and Dean-sama shook his head. "Clavicular-kun," he said, his voice now laced with authority, "I'm afraid this means your time at this school has come to an end."
Clavicular dropped to his knees, his perfectly chiseled chin trembling. “Dean-sama... No… This was supposed to be my year! I was gonna bouncermaxx to new heights, crush the normies, hook up with the most stacy-tier girls on campus! The roidcel life was—"
"Silence!" Dean-sama interrupted, eyes narrowing. "You’ve not only violated the school’s rules but betrayed the spirit of true ascension. Looksmaxxing isn’t about shortcuts, Clavicular-kun. You’ve walked a dark path, and now you must face the consequences."
Tears welled up in Clavicular’s eyes as the officers took him away. He looked back at Dean-sama, his final plea spilling out: "But Dean-sama...without the roids...how can I ever become...true adam"
Dean-sama turned away, a single tear gleaming in his eye, perhaps out of sympathy, perhaps out of regret. "Clavicular-kun... true beauty... comes from within."
As Clavicular was led away, the room felt emptier than ever, his dreams of bouncermaxxing and roidcel glory shattered like the fragile bones he had once sought to
strengthen through relentless smashing.
And thus, the legend of Clavicular faded, his quest for god-tier looks undone by his own ambition. He would forever be known as the one who tried to rise... but fell to the wrath of Dean-sama.
THE END
The door burst open, and Clavicular, with his meticulously sculpted jawline and bulging muscles from months of roidcel stacks, stood frozen.
Dean-sama walked in, his presence overwhelming. "Clavicular-kun," he said, voice stern yet almost fatherly, "I’ve received some... troubling reports."
Clavicular clenched his fists, the veins in his forearms bulging like the twisted branches of an ancient tree. His bonesmashing hammer lay quietly in the corner, the tool of his nightly rituals to achieve that chiseled, warrior-like visage. He tried to play it cool, but the beads of sweat betrayed him. "W-What reports, Dean-sama?" he asked, his voice wavering.
Dean-sama raised an eyebrow, pulling out a stack of printed forum posts, each one marked with Clavicular's signature name and avatar: a gif of a chad clubmaxxing. “These,” he said, flipping through the pages, "are your posts on a certain looksmax.org forum. ‘Bouncermaxxing for the win, roidcel gains incoming’? ‘MTB slay report’? Do you deny these are yours?"
Clavicular's heart sank. His dreams of being an elite bouncermaxxer, hooking up with stacy-tier women every night, and becoming a god among men—all that could be ripped away in an instant. “Dean-sama, y-you don’t understand. It’s all part of the grind! The looksmaxxing life is a small price to pay for...for ascension!”
Dean-sama sighed, deeply disappointed. "Clavicular-kun, this school has rules. And not only are you publicly advocating for dangerous, unethical practices—bonesmashing? Really?—but we had reason to suspect you’ve been... enhancing your looks with illegal substances. That’s why your room will be searched."
“No!” Clavicular yelled, his hand reaching out dramatically. “Dean-sama, please! You don’t understand! Bouncermaxxing is the only way! I need the edge, I need the roidcel gains! The steroids are part of the—”
But before he could finish, the door slammed open again, and a group of security officers entered. They tore through his meticulously arranged supplement stacks, flipping through bottles of creatine and protein powders. And then, hidden underneath his normie supplements, they found it. The stash. Several vials of steroids, syringes carefully packed next to his lemonbottle and PDO threads.
One of the officers held the vials up, and Dean-sama shook his head. "Clavicular-kun," he said, his voice now laced with authority, "I'm afraid this means your time at this school has come to an end."
Clavicular dropped to his knees, his perfectly chiseled chin trembling. “Dean-sama... No… This was supposed to be my year! I was gonna bouncermaxx to new heights, crush the normies, hook up with the most stacy-tier girls on campus! The roidcel life was—"
"Silence!" Dean-sama interrupted, eyes narrowing. "You’ve not only violated the school’s rules but betrayed the spirit of true ascension. Looksmaxxing isn’t about shortcuts, Clavicular-kun. You’ve walked a dark path, and now you must face the consequences."
Tears welled up in Clavicular’s eyes as the officers took him away. He looked back at Dean-sama, his final plea spilling out: "But Dean-sama...without the roids...how can I ever become...true adam"
Dean-sama turned away, a single tear gleaming in his eye, perhaps out of sympathy, perhaps out of regret. "Clavicular-kun... true beauty... comes from within."
As Clavicular was led away, the room felt emptier than ever, his dreams of bouncermaxxing and roidcel glory shattered like the fragile bones he had once sought to
strengthen through relentless smashing.
And thus, the legend of Clavicular faded, his quest for god-tier looks undone by his own ambition. He would forever be known as the one who tried to rise... but fell to the wrath of Dean-sama.
THE END
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