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Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Chapter 17: The Presentation February 10th, 2018 2000 Hours “Rose, dim the lights, and please – please leave us alone. Lock the auditorium doors behind you when you leave so we won’t be disturbed. Does everything have everything they need? Wi-Fi connection good? And Rose….tell Dr. Irving to bring the men upstairs to the lab. We’ll be ready for them in about 30 minutes.” A crisp response in the affirmative. The auditorium lights dimmed. There was a tapping of sensible heels, and the double doors at the back of the Valhalla Laboratories Assembly Hall opened and shut quietly. The lock clicked. Dr. Ira Zaftig cleared his throat, took a drink of water, and looked out serenely at his audience. He clicked his remote. The screen lit up, the light spilling out into the chrome and concrete bunker auditorium. “Are we ready, Gentlemen? Good evening. Welcome to Valhalla Labs.” The Valhalla logo glowed on the 20’ screen. Zaftig’s calm voice echoed darkly into the far regions of the room. “Gentlemen, I know you’ve had a long day. Flying in from Washington, checking into your quarters, touring the facility grounds, and now, after that splendid dinner, I know you’re curious to see the results of our mutual contract with the United States military and the Joint Chiefs. The unveiling, in fact, of our great 15-year initiative.” The five Officers in the front row murmured quietly. Out of courtesy, one or two nodded. Admiral Walrus, the Joint Chief Chair and Committee head, was seated dead center. He said nothing. He waited. Well behind the officers in the half-light sat a row of junior officers and young aides in attendance to the brass. “We here at Valhalla Labs know that we have achieved stunning success. We’re proud to be able to share it with you tonight.” Zaftig spoke easily, confidently. He clicked the remote again, and the first slide came into view. In their swivel chairs, the five Pentagon Officers sat back and turned their attention to the image on the screen. And then they stared. “Jesus, Zaftig, what the hell is this?” demanded Admiral Walrus. “Gentlemen, I give you Prototype 1-A of Project Herculaneum, Specimen Casey: Mr. Casey Rockland.” The image of an impossibly huge, muscled behemoth of a young man was on the screen, presented in four views: front, left, right, and rear. He was squared-jawed, thick-necked, blue-eyed, and handsome, with a deeply cleft chin and full, luscious lips. His arms hung at his side, and his legs were spread confidently well apart. His gaze was centered straight ahead, his jaw set firm with business-like grimness, his head erect. His waist was impossibly slender, given the mass above and below, perhaps 29 inches. His cobblestone abs rippled insanely. His posture was that of a classic anatomy chart. Every vein, every muscle appeared to pulse right off the screen. The young man was clean-shaven. He had a short blond military crew cut, but his eyebrows were thick, dark black, and lustrous. The left brow was slightly elevated with cocky arrogance. His face set him at about 19 years, but the muscle density of his enormous physique made it difficult to precisely age him. Seated in the dark behind the officers, Ensign Sam Victor, Admiral Walrus’ coolly handsome young personal aide de camp, looked evenly up at the screen and took in the image of the young muscleman with cool calm. The muscle boy’s skin – for he was, with his angelic face, little more than a boy, at least in years - was shrink-wrapped over the most astonishing display of musculature Sam had ever seen. Every muscle group, every vein, every cut, every separation stood prominently sculpted, in separate relief from the adjacent muscle group. He wore only the briefest of posing trunks, which sagged deeply to expose the gently curving, then plummeting, upper 6 inches of his tawny-colored, vein-lined penis. His oversized ball sac bulged ferociously in the heavy pouch. The Joints Chiefs were stunned. In the front-view image on the far left, subject Casey Rockland displayed hugely rounded, shining, mountainous pectoral muscles, gleaming with powerful deep furrows of striations, punctuated with thick dark brown, 3-inch sand dollar-sized nipples, poutily pointing downward. His broad shoulders, thick powerful traps and heavy delts looked as if the boy could easily carry a 600 pound bull around a corral. His lats spread almost horizontally behind him like the outspread wings of an eagle. The mighty 3-headed biceps were triple slabs of muscle on each arm, huge beyond all reasoning, the forearms laced with networks of half and quarter-inch iron thick veins. The boy held his enormous hands at his sides, his heavy fingers and thick thumbs crooked slyly inward towards his bulging crotch. Smokestack quads rippled and burst with muscle, and he was supported by a set of calves that ballooned behind him. His feet were enormous, with large thick toes and perfectly groomed nails. His tanned skin glowed with health. Sam assumed the subject’s teeth were probably perfect, too, but for the moment his gaze was leveled just below Casey’ rippling midsection. Well, well, he thought. Let’s just look you over, now. Just who are you, buddy? Superman? Captain America? Tiny Yokum? Johnny Holmes? Naw. This was no cartoon character. No porn star. But no superfreak that Sam had ever encountered before – and he had known many – could boast the cock this boy had. Between his legs in the front view hung a monster penis, less than half covered by the straining, flimsy Spandex posing trunks. The top half of Casey’s shaft was plainly visible. The trunks loomed heavily with the outlined round bulge and piss slit of his cock head. The generals were now murmuring loudly in shocked disapproval. Admiral Walrus just sat and stared. Behind them in the darkness, most of the aides and junior officers avoided one another’s glances. A few men gazed meekly down into their laps, looking up only furtively with appreciative eyes. A few stared outright. “This specimen, gentlemen,” intoned Zaftig’s voice out of the dark, “or, if you prefer, Private 1st Class Casey Rockland, is at present only one the world’s most perfectly-developed men. There are, of course, 19 other specimens.” Sam let out a low whistle. Ensign Tyler, to his immediate left, caught it. “There are 20 of these dudes?” Sam murmured to Tyler. “There’s a challenge for you, Sam. Never known you to turn your back on a challenge.” Tyler responded. “Shut the fuck up, Tyler, or no play time later.” Tyler smiled sardonically but said no more. Sam leaned back to enjoy the view. His brought his big hands behind his head, and leaned back in his seat to contemplate. He focused on the image of Casey’s crotch and allowed himself to dream, if just a little. Casey’s testicles bulged heavy and full in the sac of white Spandex, and the top quarter of the shaft of the penis spilled out and curved visibly downward before being enmeshed in the barely restraining pouch. The cock appeared flaccid, but no matter: the thickness was like tube of a flashlight, and the cock head bulged and pointed down with insistent heaviness. Under the thin sheath of Spandex, Sam could make out the long, curling, resting shaft, the rim of the bulbous cock head, the bulging cock head itself, the inviting piss slit, and the 2-softball scrotum. Curled tufts of iron black pubic hair spilled out from beneath the poser’s tightly hemmed edges. The poser straps strained mid-hips, threatening to burst from the weight. In the left and right side views, thick horseshoe triceps rippled along the battlefield-ready arms, their huge round sweep arcing backward. His pecs bloomed mightily, those taut brown nipples still tantalizingly pointing down. Lower, brick-like washboard abdominal muscles tapered into that impossibly slender yet powerful, vascular waistline. His obliques curved up and outward with menacing power. The roundness of the hard butt and the sweep of Casey’s hamstrings jutted past the back of the line of his head. In the rear view, his deltoids upended mightily blending into mountainous traps, soaring into a thick network of back muscle. His legs were spread wide. Two tight globes of thick, oblong gluteus muscle curved below a rock-solid butt shelf of power. His rocky butt glistened with sweat and oil: a blissfully full, solid, fatless furnace of power. Each splendidly ripped butt cheek appeared to be glancing slightly to the side, barely opening the center spread. Mr. Rockland’s poser was as inadequate going as it was coming, and unable to hide the deep red cherry butthole, which glowed invitingly around the right edge of the tight thin strap that traveled and sank into deep, darkened buttcrack. Below, the exponentially huge, shaped and separated hamstrings exploded, supported by freaky split calf muscles. Get a grip, Victor, Sam thought to himself. It’s just a picture. In his loose white Navy uniform slacks, Sam felt his own cock twitch longingly. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and reaching down surreptitiously beneath his regulation belt, his slipped his hand into his rapidly knotting underwear. He rearranged his package. Next to him, Tyler was doing the same thing. They caught each other’s eyes, and in spite of themselves had to suppress immediate blasts of explosive mirth. “Quiet, back there!” barked Walrus. Then: “We came here tonight to see a fucking muscleman?” he said dangerously to Zaftig. Tyler was suddenly seized with a fit of coughing, and Sam busied himself with his laptop, seemingly taking serious notes. Lucky he thought to bring it, he mused. It was covering a fierce erection, now pushing protestingly out of his tight uniform trousers. “I think you’ll find all the men interesting, Admiral Walrus. This specimen, Casey Rockland is 19 years old. He is 6’- 7” tall,” said Zaftig, now in full control. “He weighs 335 pounds. Casey was enrolled in the project formally only a few months ago, when he was just 18. Already he has made extraordinary gains.” Sam noted that the men on either side of him seemed to be breathing more heavily. His cock stirred heavily in his pants, and Tyler was still fooling around with something in his lap. He glanced down the line. Even in the half-light of auditorium he could see that all of the men were beginning to sprout fierce trouser trouts. Even the straight men. “Hmmm,” he thought to himself. “I wonder…” Zaftig continued. “Casey has 1.5% bodyfat. He’s in splendid health, his heart very slightly enlarged perhaps, but his blood pressure holds at an even 130/80. Casey’s lungs are clear. To our knowledge, he has never in his life smoked a cigarette. He can run almost 30 miles per hour for 2 to 3 hours at a stretch. He bench-presses 800 pounds, and can easily perform single arm curls at 160 pounds. He squats easily with 500 pounds, and has been known to do deadlifts of 600 pounds in a set of 25 repetitions.” Zaftig coughed modestly. “Casey is also an accomplished gymnast, and can hold an iron cross on the rings without moving for 5 minutes. His extreme flexibility enables him to land from a flying dismount into a full 180 degree split.” Baby, breathed Sam to himself. Come to daddy. He licked his lips just a little. Tyler was taking short, shallow breaths, as if he was hyperventilating. “Calm down,” Sam chuckled to Tyler, who was trying in vain to appear neutral. Tyler elbowed him sharply. “You calm down…” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Sam smiled and ignored him. “Go, man, go!” came a breathless voice from down at the end of the row. Clearly Sam and Tyler weren’t the only men excited by what they were seeing. Zaftig clicked his remote. A new slide appeared with Casey holding a front double biceps pose. “Casey has 26 inch biceps,” Zaftig continued. “His waistline measures 30” after a heavy meal. His quadriceps are 32 inches, and his chest, when expanded, measures a rather staggering 69 inches. His calves and his forearms are, respectively, 20 inches and 25 inches.” Yes, I was going to ask about Casey’s dimensions, Sam thought wickedly. He glanced right and left and observed his colleagues were probably wondering, with various degrees of personal interest, the same thing. “He eats 8 times a day, about 15,000 calories daily, a special diet of lean meat protein, clean animal fat, and low carbs. He drinks between 5 to 8 gallons of water during the course of a normal day. He trains 4 days a week, and the other three days he is required to remain at full body rest and in meditation, so that his body may fully recover and continue the growth process. His workouts are not shade less than brutal. Still, we are very careful not to overtrain any of the men, but because of Casey’s particular passion for heavy bodybuilding, in his case, we have to be unusually strict and watchful. He’d be in the gym day and night if we allowed it. Fortunately, over the years, we’ve learned better.” “I’ll bet you have,” thought Sam. “Casey’s also a black belt in karate and could be a champion extreme fighter – that is, if I ever let him out of the lab.” Zaftig smiled devilishly. “He has a mean left hook,” he added. “He can knock a 250 pound man unconscious with a single punch. His vision far better than 20/5 – what you can see at 5 feet, he can see at 20. Casey doesn’t drink or do drugs. And he has never in the three years we have worked with him here at Valhalla had so much as a gram of processed sugar. In short, gentlemen, Casey Rockland is a perfectly-developed male specimen.” One of the 1-star generals on the Committee blurted out. “Doesn’t do drugs,” General Needling echoed, as if appalled. “That’s a steroided physique if I ever I saw one!” he shouted. Walrus frowned. Another officer, General Wampum, added his harsh agreement. “He’s Ahhh-nold,” came a deep voice from somewhere in the junior officer row. “I’ll beeee beck.” Some chuckles, immediately silenced when Walrus, without turning around, sharply lifted an index finger to one ear. The men were clearly covering their growing excitement with feeble jokes. Zaftig continued. “On the contrary, gentlemen, there are no contraband controlled substances anywhere in Casey’s bloodstream. He’d test negative for any drug. No growth hormone, no insulin, no pain blockers. Nothing synthetic. I assure you there have never been any sort of street drug protocols at any time in Casey’s extraordinary development. Casey receives nightly injections of P-21, Valhalla Labs patented muscle-building enzyme, painstakingly developed by our technicians a decade ago, and unavailable to the general public. All of Project Herculaneum’s subjects receive nightly injections. There are no negative side-effects of any kind to P-21.” He paused for effect. “And it is not a steroid.” Zaftig let that sink in. Admiral Walrus snorted. He didn’t believe a word of this crap. He’d had enough, and the meeting wasn’t 3 minutes old. “What the hell are you talking about, Zaftig?” demanded Walrus. “Is this how you’ve been spending your Pentagon contract? Is this what you’ve brought us across the country from D.C. to see? A muscleman?! Some gym freak? Goddamn it, man!” “Admiral Walrus, sir, “ said Zaftig, his voice lowered to easy familiarity, “let’s just look at the facts. Casey Rockland is no ‘gym freak.’ He’s not simply “a muscleman.” Casey is the result of years of pain-staking research, protocols, hard-core training, and delicate systemic honing. He and the other 19 men we are presenting to you tonight are uniquely developed physically perfect beings. They are trained to exert control in all situations, and to follow orders to the letter. To the letter, I might repeat.” I can think of a few orders I could issue, thought Sam, shifting in his seat. Once again, his twitching cock was beginning to bind in his shorts. He mused if such wishful thinking might indeed have a payoff. The Generals murmured in low tones to Walrus, who nodded fiercely. “He looks – what did you call it?” Needling whispered again to Walrus. “He looks Photoshopped! How do we know this is real? No man looks like this!” Zaftig turned and faced the group. “Gentlemen, I assure you, there’s no trickery here,” he confided with a touch of theatricality. “Zaftig, this is a waste of our time.” Walrus started to get up as if to leave. The other officers stirred, hesitating. Zaftig resumed pacing. “Gentlemen, I confess, I’m disappointed. In fact, I’m speechless. You think this is all pure speculation?” He gestured at the figure on the screen. “Theory? Scientifically uncertain? Wish fulfillment, perhaps? Photoshop?” He paused for effect, and turned to a tall, lanky, owl-like man hovering at the end of the first row. “Dr. Shaft? Perhaps you might confirm to the Admiral…..?” He waited smugly. The Joint Chiefs personal physician, Dr. Shaft, was invariably called in as a paid expert on any matter remotely medical, for which service he balanced his time between coasts, living half his life with his annoying socialite wife of 35 years in an impressive Chevy Chase McMansion near the Washington, D.C. beltway, the other in a smaller, more secluded ocean-front home off the Pacific Palisades. Shaft had remained silent and withdrawn up to now. He turned meekly to Admiral Walrus, cleared his throat and spoke nervously. “Admiral Walrus….requesting your indulgence, sir, but Dr. Zaftig is quite correct. Casey – and the other 19 muscle specimens – does indeed exist. And his specifications and dimensions are just as Dr. Zaftig is presenting them to be tonight.” Walrus grunted. “After all, Admiral Walrus,” said Zaftig smoothly, “Dr. Shaft is your own representative in Project Herculaneum.” “And they’re all living here in this compound?” he demanded. “Now? Tonight?” “Yes, sir. They’re all in residence here at Valhalla Labs. You can see them for yourself in a few minutes, if you wish. In fact, we have planned on it.” A moment passed. Walrus resumed. “Get on with it, then,” he muttered. “It’s a waste of my time, but get on with it.” He snorted. “Admiral Walrus, sir,” said Dr. Shaft, placating him with superior charm. “Dr. Zaftig and the team at Valhalla are indeed introducing a species of super-beings. I have had the opportunity to personally review them myself in the not-too-distant past.” For years, Dr. Shaft had upon occasion enjoyed the discreet company of out of town young male visitors from Venice, California in his West Coast home, whose ‘careers’ on the bodybuilding competition stage he had generously funded. When Zaftig’s informant, one retired pro bodybuilder by the name of Miles Donovan, revealed Shaft’s little secret, Zaftig knew he had an ally, if an unwilling one, amongst the Joint Chiefs. He’d played his cards right, and covertly brought Shaft in months before for an unofficial unveiling. Shaft had been stunned into fawning speechlessness, and gratefully accepted a deal in exchange for support. Zaftig found the man useful but repugnant. And now - review the men? Is that what he calls it? “Let’s not exaggerate, Dr. Shaft. I haven’t created a species. After all, I’m not Victor Frankenstein,” Zaftig said humorously. “Aren’t you?” asked Dr. Shaft. “Who are they? Where did they come from?” asked General Wampum, glaring at Shaft. “They all came to me on their own at different times during the last 18 years,” replied Dr. Zaftig. “On their own, they were already splendid specimens, ranging in age from 18 to 40. Though I searched them all out personally, no one was recruited. Moreover, their dedication to this project is unquestioned.” Zaftig’s audience began to murmur. “This is crazy,” said Wampum. “Crazy?” Zaftig responded, his voice raising. “Crazy, you say? I assure you, General Wampum, these men are real and at the height of their development.” The officers all seemed to speak at once. “Perhaps, to satisfy your doubts, I might pause and take some of your questions now.” “They’re volunteers?” “Are they soldiers or civilians?” “What are their backgrounds?” “How about their general health? Are they medical freaks?” “Are they even Americans?” Walrus demanded to know. “Are they even human?” asked Wampum. “Dr. Zaftig, I have a question.” Sam raised his hand. Walrus half turned, but nodded, permitting the question. Ensign Victor may look like just a pretty boy, but he has brains and guts, Walrus thought. His gesture silenced the group, and he allowed the Ensign the floor with a slight nod of his head. “You haven’t mentioned I.Q. How sharp is Casey’s intellect?” For the first time so far that evening, Zaftig seemed to hesitate. He recovered instantly, but Sam caught momentary crack in the façade. “Casey has the normal requirements of intelligence for a gifted soldier,” he answered. Aha. “This man’s a soldier? He’s enlisted in the US Army?” demanded Admiral Walrus. General Wampum preened a little. “Casey Rockland holds the rank of Private 1st Class in the US Army,” repeated Zaftig, but offered no more information. “Dammit, Wampum, why didn’t you know this?” Walrus demanded. General Wampum stopped preening and slumped in his seat. General Needling came to his defense. “We didn’t know any more about this than you did, Walrus,” he growled. Zaftig turned back to the image of flexing Casey, resuming his presentation as if nothing had happened. He brought his pointer up, lightly touching the tip to the biceps of the left arm. “Note the triple biceps head,” he continued. “The unusually separated deltoids, and the dynamically thick trapezius muscles.” His pointer lightly tapped each muscle group as he spoke. “You see the unusually dense vascularity. Also, pay special attention to Casey’s thin skin. Men with this low bodyfat are often cold, their own bodies incapable of supplying sufficient heat, and their skin can be fragile. Casey is never cold. His metabolism prevents it. And his skin is as tough as rawhide.” I’ll just bet, thought Sam. Zaftig clicked through a series of images showing Casey stripped down in different posing straps, in a various array of training room shots and routines. He lingered on a final image of Casey in a deep leg squat, a barbell of several hundred pounds weight resting easily on his shoulders. His hams were so thick they almost touched the floor. Behind him his butt curved powerfully upward. Far from grimacing at the colossal weight, Casey’s handsome face appeared serene. The auditorium pinged with tense silence. The officers stared hard at Dr. Zaftig. Zaftig gazed calmly back, his mouth now a thin line of determination. Behind him at the head of the table, the screen was frozen with Casey in deep squat suspension, the only light in the dimmed room. Zaftig resumed airily. “Casey Rockland and the other 19 perfectly-developed specimens not only are living and training full time in this very facility, they’re thriving. Within this very complex, these 20 perfect men completed their second shift in another day’s hard training protocol 30 minutes ago. They’ve showered and changed two levels below us while we’ve been talking. In fact, they’re not more than 100 feet away from where you’re sitting now.” Sam’s ears perked up. Zaftig placed his palms on the dais table and leaned in towards the uniformed officers. “I am ready to present them to you now, if you wish.” He let the statement sink in for impact, and pushed away from the table. Behind the Generals and Admiral Walrus, the Junior Officers shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. All except Sam. This is getting interesting, he thought. “Perhaps I should do just that,” Dr. Zaftig said, “We might amend the agenda tonight. I think we need to break a little early. You all probably want to see the results for yourselves. Only then can you make an informed determination for your report.” He crossed toward the stage apron and turned to the group. “If you will all will be so good as to accompany me into the lab?” Confusion. The officers look dumbly at one another. Even Walrus said nothing. No one moved. Zaftig clicked his remote again, and the screen rose. “Dr. Irving?” he called out, climbing the stairs to the stage. “We’re coming into the lab now. Get the men ready.” He flicked some switches on a panel and the stage lights came up. At the back of the stage, a white-coated lab technician appeared, opening double doors. Beyond, the white glare of Valhalla Laboratories was revealed. “Admiral Walrus, Dr. Shaft, General Needling, Gentlemen: if you’ll all follow me.” Zaftig turned without a backward glance and crossed the stage to the opened lab doors. He turned and beckoned the group to follow him. A moment later the group rose, and with some uncomfortable putting away of laptops which had been hiding bulges, and with embarrassing shifting of slacks and trousers, which told the telltale signs of arousal, they crossed the stage and entered the lab. And with the notable exceptions of Walrus and Wampum, Zaftig noted with some satisfaction, that every man in uniform was sporting a straight-ahead trouser trout bulge. ******* Click below for the next chapter! "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed

The test Subject Yes, Sir, I do. Mmmmmmm. Yes! I can't believe this. How it feels. No, Sir, nothing against that at all. I'm excited. Never thought I would grow bigger. Never thought something like this existed. Experimental? yaya. Don't matter. You can't believe how ... Oh! Look at these abs, Sir! No fat at all. Just these Hard. Big. Insanely ripped. Abs. And the feeling of this Apollo's belt! I'm ... Oh! You are making me ... Oh! And my quads! Never thought I could grow quads like these! I'm, like, standing on elephant legs, like some sort of Strongman guy, or ... Uh! Yes! And these! Like when I cup my pecs, do you, Sir? Cupping my big, full, strong, bronzed pecs like this? Yeah, I agree, the sun tan cause my growth to look ... To look ... To ... Uh! Yes! Yes, Sir! More! Yes! More! Can't believe it! So much. The frequency. My mind. My body. The frequency. So much. So good. Yeah, it freaked me out initially, but now ... Now, I love how it feels. I can't get enough of it. I lap all of it up. My body does. My body assimilate those frequencies. Absorb them. Suck it up. Yeah, I thought you would. But hey, look at me, Sir! Look at what you are turning me into. The perfect symmetry. The perfect shape. The perfect ... Uh! Uhmmm! Uh! Yes! I love the feeling how my lats force my arms outwards, my triceps rubbing my back like that. Feel so wide now. Uh! yes! Even wider! My traps too. So wide now! Wider! I don't know, Sir. I never used that word about myself. No, I don't know if anyone else used to call me a jock, but now! Uh! Uh! Yeah! Look at this jock you are creating! Say what? If you like it, I can be your stupid jockboy. Would you like that, Sir? NO! What's that? I didn't mean it literally! I ... Wait? What's happening? Uh! So good! So ... SO ... Ugh! What's happening? Yes, Sir! So good. I'm your dumb jockboy. Feel stupid now. Yeah: Only think about workouts and my own hot body now. And sex. Yeah, I enjoy growing for you, Sir. Make me buff, Sir. Make me big. Make me HUGE, Sir. Uh! Uh! UH! What the hell? FUCK! No? What's happening? SIR! It is too much! I can't take anymore! Don't you hear me? TOO MUCH! IT'S ... (roaring) (roaring becoming deeper) (a moaning roar in a deep voice) Uhnnnn! Uhnnnnn! Yeah! These levels ... Couldn't have dreamed ... THESE LEVELS! Uhnnnnn! Yeah! What, Sir? No, Sir, I can take it. Reached a new level now, Sir. Couldn't of dreamed about it ... Impossible level ... Look at these biceps! Yeah, you are right, Sir: Basket balls, and they are still growing. Do you see that? They are still growing. Like the rest of me. Like my pecs. Wow. My hands ... My hands and feet are growing, too! Watch me cup these pecs. You liked that, didn't you? The oil you soaked me in beforehand, it wasn't just for science stuff, was it? Yeah, but not just because of science something, was it? I thought so, but look how it make me look now: The contrasts. This SHEER POWER. This ... This ... manhood. Speaking of it: Yeah. That, too. Do you like when I cup my balls and tool like this? You little pervert! You little insignificant shit! Don't dare to undergo The Process yourself, but love to ogle me when I ... Uh. UH! UH FUCK! What's happening? I can't believe ... can't ... not possible! Not more! What are you doing? No! Not more! I can't take anymore! I ... (a moaning roar in a deep voice) So intense! The power! So ... Look at this Alpha! Look at this Alpha, who soon will step out of your machine and dominate you, you little cunt, or should I say wanker? Yeah, look at you! Worship this Alpha! Watch me flex these! Uh! So good! The veins! And watch me flex these! More ... more veins. YES! I'm covered by VEINS! The hugest guys are never this ripped. The most ripped bros are never this huge. But look at me: Your bronze Alpha is HUGE and RIPPED. Watch me flex! Didn't see my back, before, did you? Watch this, you worthless tosser. Yeah, watch this! Why are you touching the controls instead of yourself, tosser? Do you really believe, that you could grow me bigger than this? To grow me bigger than ... UH! AHHH! AAAAARRRRRGH! Yeah! Alpha Monster Jock is the biggest there is! Alpha Monster Jock so strong now! Look at Alpha Monster Jock flex! Alpha Monster Jock soon make Sir choke on Alpha Monster Jock cock, but first Alpha Jock will reach his full size. Alpha Jock still growing! YES! Grow Alpha Jock! Alpha Jock live for lifting. Lift. Eat. Sleep. And sex. Alpha Jock HUGE! Grow Alpha Jock! YES! Bigger! More! Make Alpha Jock humungous! Mountain of BRAWN! The power! The Power streaming into Alpha Jock! Becoming one with Alpha Jock! Alpha Jock's muscular power. Power levels good. Alpha Jock feel good. So wide. Mountain of STEEL BRAWN! Mountain of POWER BRAWN! MORE! NEVER TOO MUCH! NEVER TOO MUCH! Alpha Jock ... HARD FLEXING PURE RAW UNTAMED ULTRA-MASCULINE POWER!!!!!!

Here is the second chapter in The Test. I honestly don't know where this idea is coming from, but I write and it just pours out of me. I have outlined a complete plot for the next five chapters, so I will continue to write them. I have already started on Chapter Three. Each of the chapters are pretty long as I don't want to leave anything hanging, and I always want them to include some sort of growth. Let me know what you think!! Enjoy!! The Test Chapter Two Chaos Asarualimnunna sat in the seventh plan of existence contemplating his good fortune at having so easily reached the simple mind of the human called Chad. As soon as the other had left the room and Chad had picked up the crystal, the connection had been made. Being in the eight plane made it difficult for him to speak directly with the human, but he placed a compulsive desire within him to help his friend discover the mystery of the stone at any cost. As soon as that was engaged, the rest had easily fallen into place. Now Asarualimnunna had broken into the seventh plane through the hole ripped open by the power set off by the human. His prison was a complex one, but not one he couldn’t unweave. Time had no meaning to him, and having been locked away for longer than 2,000 years was nothing more than an irritation. Soon he would be free again, and nothing would stand in his way. Of course, as before, he had to grant a desire like a pathetic djinn in order to achieve the amount of psychic power needed to break through the barriers, but so be it. There was always a cost in achieving ones aspirations. Asarualimnunna knew that only too well. This time it will be different, he thought to himself. This time when he took complete control, it would be through the worshipers he was creating. They would keep the humans at bay while he attained his purpose. The first was perfectly formed. He only had two objectives: muscle and sex, and that was what he created. Chad was the epitome of virility, and just like those pathetic Greeks, mankind would follow him blindly. He reached his will out to Chad once again, and discovered his disciple was about to bring the other human to orgasm. No matter how hard he tried, Asarualimnunna couldn’t reach Jacob. There was too much doubt, too many questions. Ultimately, he would fall; there was no doubt. He had hoped that by witnessing Chad’s transformation he would bow to the power of the crystal, but something still stopped him. It wasn’t fear… It wasn’t rebellion… It was something more. Asarualimnunna would have him… must have him… but that would have to wait. Scanning both for his next creation, he found the perfect candidate in a brief memory released by Jacob. Yes. This one was what he needed. This one would demand followers. Using a reserve of power, he set the plan in motion. It was easier now that he was on the seventh plane to control the human realm, and found the manipulation of the content on one zip drive was quite simple to alter. When had finished, exhausted, Asarualimnunna’s will, which held his body together, broke apart, scattering him throughout the seventh plane. One final suggestion implanted in Chad’s psyche, and the ball was rolling again. Before this mortal day was complete, Asarulimnunna would be existing on the sixth plane. Chad continued to tongue fuck Jacob. This was easily performed, and he was pleased that his friend was receiving so much pleasure from so little. He wanted to do more with his friend, much more, but he knew that in his present human form, Chad would easily destroy him. It would have to wait until Jacob took his place next to Chad as a God. Cum dribbled from Jacob’s penis as he cried out in ecstasy. Chad experienced compassion for his friend as he compared himself to Jacob. He craved deep down that Jacob would experience the cataclysmic orgasms he himself now had, instead of this this contemptible exhibition of pleasure. Nevertheless, Chad loved his friend, but he understand that in many ways he had left him behind. No! He refused to allow Jacob to maintain this pathetic quality of life. He would take him now to the stone and turn on the power. He would force Jacob if he didn’t want to do it… Chad felt an unexpected urge deep down in his soul. He had to fuck. He needed to fuck. He needed hundreds of men worshiping his body. Yes. That is what he required. Pre began to drip from Chad’s cock as he unwrapped his tongue from Jacob’s penis. Not wanting to waste the dribbled essence that had fallen to the floor, Chad quickly lapped it up, and retracted his tongue back into his mouth. He smiled down at his friend as he sat him on his desk. - How do you feel? - Incredible! That was magnificent! Jacob hoped off of the desk and moved toward Chad’s massive cock that grew from his crotch. Gently he began to caress the limb, stroking it, even daring to lick the massive head. - I want to satisfy you now. Tell me how. Tell me what I can do. - Unfortunately, and don’t take this poorly, it is nearly impossible for you to satisfy me. I want you, Jacob. Believe me. I want you badly, but if I took you now… it would kill you. - I’m sure it would. I don’t think anyone could take that and live. - If you want to bring me satisfaction, come with me. Let’s go where there will be many who can worship me. - How can you go out like that? Where will you ever find clothes that will cover you? With a simple thought, black leather pants formed around Chad’s legs. The leather was tighter than skin tight, and reminded Jacob of something a superhero might wear in one of those DC comic films. Chad’s immense penis was still evident, snaking down his right leg, and appeared even sexier behind leather than when he was naked. Leather armbands enfolded themselves around Chad’s colossal upper arms, and piercings materialized in both of his nipples. Black thick-soled boots formed on his feet completing the look. - Well? - You look like Tom of Findland’s wet dream. - Perfect. Let’s go. - Let me just put this away. Jacob crossed the room to the gem and detached it from where it sat. Still clear, the crystal now resembled the Hope Diamond he had seen once on holiday with his family. Moving to his desk, he released the bottom drawer and placed it back in the metal coffee can it had been shipped to him in. When he was finished, Jacob looked at his best friend, once again taking in Chad’s complete form. - Thinking about it now…I don’t know how you are ever going to get out of this building without destroying it. - Come here and grab onto my arm. Jacob did as he was told, and unexpectedly felt himself and Chad both evaporating into vapor. His consciousness still existed, but his form was totally gone. Declan Lease grabbed the Uber driver by the back of the head and demanded he drive faster. If he had been this worm, he would have pulled over and insisted Declan leave his car at once. To frightened to do anything but what he was told, the driver proceeded to his destination. Declan had been sitting at the airport terminal, impatiently waiting for his late flight to board. Something was apparently wrong with one of the lavatories, and this was a cause to inconvenience him even further. Determined not to waste any further time, he removed his laptop from his bag and began to skim the presentation Jacob had put together for him. As he read, Declan had to confess that it was good, though he would slit his own through before saying a word to Jacob. When he had first hired Jacob for his department, he had gone out with him and several colleagues for drinks, and found himself attracted, even charmed by the manner of the diminutive man. That night he had gone to one of the baths and face-fucked a twink boy that reminded him of Jacob until he was satisfied. Fourty-six, divorced, and with two useless sons, Declan would never reveal his desire for men, so his craving for Jacob turned to animosity. Not a day went by that he didn’t belittle him in one way or the other. At least he paid attention to him. Most men walked right by Jacob without even seeing him. As he flipped through the PowerPoint presentation, Declan noticed that some of the slides didn’t match up with the rest. Reading through these slides that were placed by accident in the middle of his presentation, it appeared that Jacob was analyzing a gem Elliot had discovered on his dig in Greece. Anger began to spew within Declan as he realized he would have to delete this information himself and reformat the presentation himself. The talk was tomorrow afternoon and he landed in New York tomorrow morning. He flipped through several other slides with notes on this gem when he came upon a video link. Without even pressing it, the link started playing. On the small screen, Jacob saw an extremely handsome and muscular man standing before the gem that had been described in Jacob’s notes. Offscreen a switch was pulled, and a beam of light went through the gem and into the man. The video jumped time, but what he saw made Declan lean forward and look at the screen closer. The man was standing directly in front of Jacob, and he was growing taller, broader, and hairier. The man was evolving right in front of his eyes. Just as Declan was beginning to get aroused, the video ended. Declan’s heart began to race as he questioned what Jacob had discovered. He flipped back through the presentation to read the notes again, but Declan realized that the every slide with information on the gem was now missing. Rapidly he returned to the slide with the video on it, and that too was gone. All that was left was the perfect presentation Jacob had put together for his meeting. Sitting in his chair, his pants straining against his errection, Declan began to contemplate what was going on. He had always prided himself on keeping fit, maintaining the rugby physique he had formed at university. Sure there may be a little more padding then he would have desired, maybe he had more of what they called a ‘Dad’s Body’ then he liked, maybe his brown hair had more grey in it then before and was thinning on top, but his age didn’t prevent him from showing off at the gym everyday in front of the younger men. He was even strong then most men his age, had better stamina, and more muscle mass then most of his friends. A doctor friend of his had prescribed a testosterone supplement, not because he needed it, but because he simply wanted it to keep young and virile. Somehow, Declan assumed, this gem had caused that man’s muscles to begin to grow…and if that man had it… Declan wanted it. Declan always got what he wanted. Declan left the terminal just as they were announcing boarding for his plane. He didn’t tell anyone he was leaving, and knew that his absence would more than likely cause the plane to be further delayed, but he didn’t care. All he cared about now was finding Jacob and seeing the gem for himself. He hardly remembered his journey to where Uber picked up. He was thinking of only one thing and one thing only…power. As Declan sat in the Uber craving for it to go faster, a message arrived to his Whats App. Grabing his phone from his trousers, Declan saw that it was from Jacob. What was Jacob doing sending him a message? How did he even get his number? Declan opened the message, and saw that it was a gif. Tapping on it, the image came to life. It was the same muscular man, now massively huge. A snake-like tongue was emerging from his mouth and he was fucking Jacob’s ass with it. Once again, as quickly as it played, the gif and message disappeared. What game was Jacob playing with him? Was he laughing at him… gaining everything he himself wanted? This was the moment that Declan grabbed the driver by the back of the head and yelled for him to drive faster. Declan jumped from the car and ran to the door of the dark building. It was locked, but thankfully, he had his set of keys. He had no need to worry about an alarm, as every thief in the vicinity knew that there wasn’t anything worth steeling in the century old building. An alarm had been placed, and the signs and bells were attached to the building, but there was no code and no panel on which to set it. Fumbling for a moment to find the keyhole in the dark, Declan threw the lock and swung open the door. He was climbing the stairs as the door closed behind him and the lock turned on its own. Scarcely out of breath, Declan made it to the laboratory on the fourth floor. He swung open the door and stepped inside, ready to confront Jared and his friend, but the room was eerily empty. Using the flashlight on his phone, Declan walked to the apparatus that had once held the gem and noticed that it was gone. Of course, that prick would hide it away, the thought. He knows what he possesses and doesn’t want to loose it. Now…if I were he… where would I put it? Would I take it home with me? No… it might get stolen on the way. It was safer to leave it here… but where? Declan turned around and around the room to figure out where to begin when one word entered his head: - Desk. Declan stopped and heeded what he had heard as if it has simply been a thought that had come to him. He moved quickly to the desk on the right of the room and began go through the drawers. Swiftly his hands moved discarded objects around the desk drawers until he heard an odd sound coming form inside an old Greek coffee can. Shaking as he lifted the can out of the bottom drawer, he removed the plastic lid and beheld the gem. It was clear as glass and simply beautiful. Slowly he placed his hand in the can and caressed it. The moment his hand touched the stone, it turned a dark ruby red and then black. Declan smiled as his pants tented again. Carrying the gem in his hand, he placed it in the apparatus he had seen on the film. He then walked over to a computer like surface where there were an odd amount of switches and knobs. Flipping one switch and then another, Declan powered up the laser. In an instant, a beam was shooting through the gem and into a spot on the opposite side of the room. Declan grinned. He first removed his overcoat and jacket, then his tie and shirt. One by one, he threw these items onto the floor until his hairy bare chest flickered in the light. Predicting the changes that were about to transpire, Declan proceeded to remove his shoes, his belt, his trousers, and then his socks. Proudly he stood in his black briefs, his thick penis slowly leaking, heralding his eagerness. With one quick move, he removed the briefs and walked slowly toward the beam. My world changes today, he thought as he moved his entire body into the path of the beam. The moment it hit him, his mind exploded into a thousand points of light and sound. He still existed on the corporeal plane, but he now could see all that had been concealed before. His grin grew larger as he felt thousands of fingers glide over his body, caressing him and welcoming him home. With his newfound sight, he detected that the beam itself was not merely ruby red, but red mixed with specks of black. He stretched out his hand to the beam and the light wash over it like a river of water. He moved himself so the beam was hitting directly onto his penis… the source of his own power. He felt so good… so alive. This is why he had been born. This was why he existed. Declan laughed aloud in the room and it seemed to echo, bouncing off the walls. What now, he thought? What happens next? He felt so good he never wanted it to end, but he also desired more. He called out to no one in particular. - What happens next? What do I need to do? Declan stood directly in the beam, being caressed by its brilliance when it went from red to fiery white. He shielded his eyes for an instant due to the overwhelming power coming from the gem. A voice rang out loudly in his head. - I called and you answered. Very good. - Who are you? - Call me Asarualimnunna. - Asarualimnunna. Who are you? - You’re new master. Declan grinned broadly. - We’ll see about that. - You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. I have been controlling your path for the past two hours. I believe that makes me the master and you the dog. - Why did you call me? Why send me all of those hints? - We have a bargain to make. - A bargain? - I can offer you what you yearn for, and you will give me what I need. - Like selling my soul? - Your soul is long gone, my friend. - I know. I’ve always been aware of that. I never needed it anyway. - Good. Now…tell me. What are you? Deep down… what are you? Images flooded Declans mind. He saw himself slap his wife when he discovered that she had cheated on him even after he had deceived her on dozens of occasions. He saw himself pounding the asses of faceless men, each one or no significance or meaning to him. He them saw himself belittling hundreds of individuals from wait-staff to friends, to his very own parents. He saw himself climbing the ladder of success and not caring anything for those he left behind. - You show me exactly what I know I am. - Say it. - I’m power. Unbridled power. - Exactly. And will you be my soldier, Power? - I’m no ones soldier. - Good. My warrior then? - I want to lead. I want to control. Give me the strength of hundreds of barbarians. That is who I am. - I have that and more within my grasp to give. Look deep within yourself and tell me what you are. - I’m Power. I’m Annihilation. I’m Plunder. NO! I know exactly what I am. Yes. I am Chaos. - Say it!! - I’m the God of Chaos. - So you are. The power of the beam became stronger as Declan felt it filling him up. It’s happening he though. I’m about to change. I am the God of Chaos. It’s time I took my rightful place. A cracking sound was heard in Declan’s ears. He looked down to where it was coming from, and saw his hands growing before his eyes. - Yes! He shouted. Both of his hands grew wider and longer, thicker and stronger. He placed his hands directly in the beam and watched the process speed up. - Give it all to me, Asarualimnunna. Give me every bit of your power. His hands continued to get larger before him. They were the strongest, most masculine hands he had ever seen. Black hair was sprouting on them and traveling up his fore arms, which were also growing and thickening. Declan willed the beam to inject more power into his arms, and he could feel himself pulling it from the source like a boy sucking a milkshake threw a straw. - Accept what I am giving you, mortal! Take only what I give! - You called me for a reason. Give it to me! I demand you give me it all!! Declan pulled harder, and suddenly the beam became thicker, filled with more light. Asarualimnunna fought to partially close the doorway between the two worlds, but this mortal was proving himself to be even stronger than he suspected. The two were in a battle of wills. Declan walked slowly toward the source of the light… the source of the power, the gem. His arms were exploding in size. Bigger and bigger they grew, veiny and thick with hair. His arms had surpassed the size of every pro body builder and every Mr. Olympia. - Give it to me, Asarualimnunna! I demand it! All of it is mine. Declan reached for the gem and the realms blew apart. Cracks appeared in each realm from the seventh to the 24th. Power flowed wildly out of the realms and into Declan. Fire washed over the human’s body as he screamed out. It was suddenly too much. What had he done? What was he becoming? Asarualimnunna tried to shut the cracks, but as one closed another ripped open. The will of this mortal was too strong. Soon all of the power of realm 24 fell… then 23… then 22. He was slowly draining all power from each existence. Declan looked down at his glowing body and saw that his torso was stretching taller and taller. He held the glowing gem in his hands as it deposited all of its power into him. His pecs burst with power, quickly gaining hundreds of pounds in a minute. Still he continued to stretch taller, his chest getting wider and wider. Asarualimnunna watched as Declan’s super human drain on the power of every realm continued. He had received the power of five so far and was eating his sixth. Chad had only received a fraction of this power when it had been given to him. Chaos did indeed stand before Asarualimnunna. As he feared his new creation, he couldn’t wait to see what it would bring. The man called Declan could no longer see over his powerful chest, but with his hands he felt it getting thicker and hairier. His abs were become like 4 inch plates of metal. A human could hide their entire arm within the crevices of his abs and not be able to see it. He gloried in what he was becoming. He welcomed it. Wishing to bring on more change faster, Declan he pulled harder, and more power entered his body. Near where his Adonis belt was growing grander and deeper, two small mounds began to erupt. Chaos moved his hands down to them, and felt the round hairy protrusions. Without realizing it, thick dark hair had covered the entire lower half of his body, and it was getting thicker. He turned around and saw his perfect ass and part of his back was entirely covered with the long stiff black hair. He had never been a fan of hair before, preferring to keep most of his body hairless, but now he welcomed the growth. He fingered his hole, and even that was filling with hair. With his hands, he felt his crotch and discovered that too was covered with an unusual amount of hair. He wanted to see over his pecs, but they continued to gain size and mass, nearly too heavy for his body to carry. Understanding that the evolution was swiftly moving out of control, Declan felt the protrusions began to get larger, and underneath something was beginning to stir and trying to get out. - What are you doing to me? What are you turning me into? - I am doing nothing, Chaos. This is all your desire. As soon as Asarualimnunna spoke these words, the mortal that had once been known as Declan knew it was true. He released all fear, all humanity, and allowed the powerful change to wash over him. Chaos shrieked an inhuman scream as two large stallion hooves emerged from the mounds. Thick black legs pushed their way further out, growing longer and more commanding than any Earth-born horse. Chaos grabbed onto the legs and felt that they were indeed his. A second inhuman screech emerged from his mouth, this time deeper and louder, as his human back broke, repositioning him onto his new torso. Chaos fell to the ground as his lower half grew grander, lengthier, and far superior to any stallion ever created. He was wracked with pain, but still he pulled on the power source. More words were being shattered to create this new creature. Thousands of souls died to give birth to it. Asarualimnunna watched as world after world was snuffed out. Chaos’s original human legs reformed themselves into the thick hind legs of a massive stallion. The beast he was becoming could easily hold twelve men on its back and still have room, he was so large, and still he continued to grow. Chaos stood on his four legs and saw that he was nearing the ceiling of the laboratory. Every muscle in his body screamed from the influx of power, but still he desired more. Quicker, more power poured from the gem into Chaos’ body causing his penis to elongate and grow. Thicker and longer, the phallus emerged from its thick hair covered sheath. No longer able to feel it with his own hands, he swiftly moved it in and out of the sheath causing pleasure filled friction. Make me more virile than any before me, he willed the power. Make my penis thicker, and longer till nearly nothing can take it. He thought the words and they rang true. His penis grew in size, massive veins feeding its magnificence. His testicles grew along with his cock sending even more sensations coursing through his body. Chaos lifted himself onto his hind legs, and then slammed his front two legs to the floor, forming a large crack. He could run for days now without getting tired. These four legs could leap over houses. His cock could pierce brick walls. He was the epitome of power… but now he wanted more. He wanted the world to fear him. With true power came fear… and Chaos wanted it all. Chaos’ will drew on the gem. His lats began to grow wider, thicker and larger then ever before. His arms were pushed away from his sides as his lats began to defy any source of known anatomy, and still they grew. He forced his arms to grown longer and broader, keeping in proportion to his inhuman lateral muscles. Chaos drew on the gem further and his back widened even more. The world will fear me he thought as he drew the power of the destruction of the realms into him. The world will cower in my presence… Two large black wings emerged from Chaos’ lats. Veins crisscrossed the surface and they extended getting lengthier and fuller. Far from being birdwings, they would remind the casual viewer of large bat wings, but even more powerful then that. That was merely a human comparison, and Chaos’ defied all comparisons. Nearly there, Chaos thought, as he pulled further power from the source. On the dock where a tail had never formed, a mass of muscle, tissue, and veins emerged. Thick and twisted, the mound lengthened further and further, resembling what one might have thought of as a half formed penis. Drool fell from Chaos’ mouth as he forced the newly grown appendage to continue to extend and thicken. Chaos enhanced the muscles in his magnificent glutes, adding hundreds more pounds, as the new appendage became nearly too substantial to hold up. Still it continued to elongate and stiffen, becoming harder and sharper as it grew. I can do this, Chaos thought as more power was thrust through the source into his growing appendage. Ultimately, it began to curve forward over Chaos’ back, become a colossal venomous scorpion singer. Beautiful was all Chaos could think, as he flipped his new extremity, and struck it into the floor, creating a three foot crater. Nearly perfect, Chaos’ thought and laughing at the creature he was building for himself. Drawing again on his own fantasies of what he always wished to be, Chaos pulled in more power and destroyed another realm. With this, his head began to grow in proportion to his massive body, and his chin became squared with a deep cleft in it. Thick black horsehair grew on his upper lip and around his mouth forming a perfectly groomed goatee. Closing his eyes and emitting a guttural moan of pain and pleasure, two mounds erupted from either side of his forehead. Pushing with all his might, two massive bull horns emerged, shiny and black, but with tiny specks of red in them. Each horn stretched up and to the right, twisting from their thick roots. Chaos’ neck sprouted denser with more muscle to enable him to hold the practically one hundred pound each horns that propagated from his cranium. Majestically lifting his head, he gouged out a enormous hole in the ceiling, permitting him further room for evolution. Standing over fifteen feet tall, Chaos posed a colossally erotic yet malevolent figure. His monumental wings extended nearly the length of the room, and his tail, when protracted, nearly doubled him in length. The black hair of his horse body traveled up over his cobble stone abs, and onto his meaty pecs. I am nearly perfect, he thought. Chaos opened his mouth wide in what resembled a yawn, but a cracking sound revealed he was breaking his own jaw to make it slightly longer. Baring his teeth, two large canines emerged, lengthening from their source into snake fangs. Not to be outdone by the memory of Jacob’s muscular friend, he stretched his own tongue out, augmentation it further. When it stretched two feet from his mouth, his mere will ripped the tip in two, creating a snake-like tongue. Yes. Now I am perfection, he thought. - Gaze upon my form, Asarualimnunna! Look what I have created! - Give me what you owe! Chaos’ penis quickly hardened, as a feeling of uncontrollable horniness filled him. From the end of the room, another male Centaur emerged. This new figure was not as large as Chaos, but still quite muscular and blonde. The creature walked up to Chaos and began to caress his massive pecs, playing with both nipples. Unable to control his animal lust, Chaos grabbed the other Centaur and began to kiss him deeply. Suddenly, and with all of the strength of his upper body, he forced the male around till he was in position to mount. With one graceful gesture, Chaos mounted the second Centaur and impaled him balls deep with his five foot penis. The blonde Centaur screamed out as he felt Chaos forcefully enter him, and tried to pull away, but he was no match for his strength and power. Chaos pounded the other Centaur’s ass harder and harder till he neared completion. In the final moment before orgasm, just when he began shooting his seed into the other’s ass, he dug his razor sharp teeth into the blonde Centaur’s neck. The poison traveling from Chaos’ teeth destroyed every cell in the others body, quickly reducing him to dust at his hooves. Seeing how easily he could destroy, Chaos shot more, destroying the wall into the sixth realm. Still cumming, Chaos destroyed the room around him. Flicking his scorpion tail, he reduced the apparatus to rubble, and with one powerful flick of his massive fists, destroyed the console that powered the laser. None will come after me, he thought. I am complete and ultimate power. - The humans will never accept you in this form. - They will be forced to submit to my will. - In this form you will never be worshipped like the other… the first of my creations. - I am my own creator!! I fashioned myself! - Let them come to you, then reveal your true form, like any other conqueror would. Chaos knew Asarualimnunna was right. With a thought, he went through one final transformation. Two of his thick horse legs evaporated as the other two became thick muscular legs covered by jet-black jean material. His large penis traveled down his left leg and sat just above his knee, always erotically visible. His hooves became size 18 length knee-high riding boots. His upper torso reassembled itself back into human form, yet maintained a 34” waist and 67” chest. His wings folded down into a long black top coat, and a simple black tshirt stretched over his massive chest. His horns laid down and became long black hair which fell to his shoulders. His tail retreated back into the curve right above his perfect ass. Only the venomous tip remained visible, now covered by his jeans. The canines retracted, but remained razor sharp and venom filled. The tongue he kept as it was. Chaos’ visage now resembled the soul that had always grown inside of him. Standing seven feet tall and weighing over a thousand pounds of muscle, he was power mixed with distinction. - Better. Good boy. Chaos smiled when he heard Asarualimnunna’s voice. Walking over to where the clear gem sat on the floor among destruction, he picked it up and held it in his hand. With no mere effort than what it might take to crinkle a sheet of paper, Chaos closed his massive hand around it, reducing it to dust. Letting the dust fall to the floor, Chaos called out. - Enjoy your prison in the sixth realm, Asarualimnunna! Now, the first thin he need to accomplish was to find Jacob’s friend have him submit to him. Then he would gather worshipers. Soon he would control this whole world. Reducing himself to mist, he walked through the wall and disappeared. Asarualimnunna regarded the retreating figure. Enjoy your prison, my friend. Though not in physical form, Asarualimnunna could still feel the pain where Chaos had taken him, and then the area of his neck where he had bit into him. It had all proven necessary as he examined the sixth realm. The seventh and eighth were still intact, but the others leading up to the 24th had been drained and destroyed to create Chaos. Yes, he had underestimated the human’s power mad will, but that would never happen again. With a pulse from his consciousness, the room reassembled itself, looking as if nothing had taken place minutes before. From the floor, the power reformed into the clear crystal. With one final pulse, Asarualimnunna called out to the next who would succeed in destroying the wall between the sixth and fifth realm. Soon… very soon… he would be free.

Okay...this is my first story in years. Many...many years! But...I promised myself I would start writing again, and this is a story I've been working on over Christmas. I'm not sure if there is a Part Two or not. Let me know what you think...but be kind! Like I said... this is my first story in many years!!! The Test Chad hopped out of his jeep and ran up the twelve steps to Jacobs building. The lab was on the fourth floor, and no sooner had he entered the main doors, he was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Seconds later, he was bursting through the door. ⁃ Where were you? This is the third time this week you stood me up. ⁃ I left you a message on your phone. I said I was too busy with work to go. ⁃ Too busy to keep the gains you’ve worked on for the past 8 months? It was leg day...and we both know you can’t afford to miss leg day! Chad looked down at his friend and grinned broadly. They had been working out together for nearly a year now, ever since Jacob had joined the gym where Chad was a personal trainer. The relationship had been strained at first. Jacob was naturally shy and insecure in the gym, but once they discovered a common trait: their love for hot men, their friendship flourished. Since then, they worked out together, hung out together, cried a couple of times on each other’s shoulders, and passed from simple gym pals to best friends. Oddly enough, there was never any sexual chemistry between the two, and Chad felt it was best this way. He didn’t have the best track record with men, breaking several hearts in the time he knew Jacob, and sleeping with many many more. He didn’t even think Jacob knew what a complete man-whore he actually was. He never told his friend about his countless sexual escapades, not because he feared Jacob would think less of him, but more because he never really acknowledged what he was...a man who loved sex very, very, very, VERY, much!! Jacob looked up at his friend wearing the craziest pair of glasses/magnifying apparatus Chad had ever seen. ⁃ I’m really in the middle of something. ⁃ I can see that. What is that thing, an emerald? Jacob looked down at the large stone he was holding in his hand, exhaled a sizeable sigh of frustration, and took the optivisor off his head. ⁃ No. It’s not an emerald. We have no clue what it really is. It wasn’t even green this morning? ⁃ What? Really? Chad sat his large frame in the chair nearest his friend. ⁃ How’s it changing colours? ⁃ I have no idea. So far since it was excavated three weeks ago, it’s been orange, red, purple, yellow, and pink. No rhyme or reason for the colour change. It just happens. Usually over night. ⁃ Where was it found? ⁃ A few miles outside Athens. Some colleges of mine are on a dig, excavating what appears to be an ancient agoge. ⁃ A what? ⁃ An agoge...a vigorous training academy for the military. ⁃ Was the stone captured in a raid? ⁃ There was nothing with it except this piece of parchment. Since I’m a gemologist, they sent it over to me to examine. They had to sneek it out of the country by Fed Ex, shoved and sealed in a can of coffee grinds. ⁃ Why? ⁃ They have some idea what it might be after taking a look at this parchment that they found near it. But since they can’t leave the dig for another four weeks without arousing suspicion, they sent it to me to keep safe. ⁃ Trusting friends. ⁃ It’s actually my ex, Elliott. He knew I wouldn’t say no, and I like a good puzzle. ⁃ What do they think it is? Jacob reached over and pressed the space bar of his laptop. The screen came to life, and with a few clicks of his mouth, found the document he was searching for. ⁃ Here’s a copy of the parchment. From what I can translate...this figure is some sort of cosmic king. ⁃ Zeus? ⁃ No. It almost appears as if he’s beyond even Zeus. ⁃ An alien? ⁃ Maybe. I don’t know. Whatever it is, he’s asking this warrior a riddle. When the warrior gets the riddle right, a beam of light shoots from the gem into the warrior, transforming him into what looks like a magnified version of himself....the perfect soldier. ⁃ Damn. ⁃ Yeah. ⁃ I guess you need the alien king to make it work. ⁃ Maybe. I’ve tried sending light through it. Here...look... Jacob got up from his desk and moved to the center of the room where an apparatus was placed. ⁃ I’ve put the gem stone here, and sent light through it from here into several rats and mice, but nothing. No change. Nothing. I’ve tried every wave length you can think of, several different power sources, and even natural sun and moonlight, but nothing. I’m at a loss. I tried the light from a laser this afternoon, but the rat just sat there happy as could be. It must need a mediator of some kind to make it work, but I’m not sure what. So...you can see why I’ve missed the gym the past couple of days. ⁃ Yeah. Why work out when you can build your own warrior rats here. Chad got up and moved to near where Jacob was standing. ⁃ Why didn’t I go to college instead of joining the Marines? I could be working on interesting shit like this instead of waiting for lazy PhD no-shows. ⁃ I said I was sorry, ⁃ Did you? ⁃ I think I did...and besides I’m doing this on the sly. My boss has been driving me crazy, having me put together a presentation for him that he has to present at a conference. What time is it? I have to bring it to him at his house by six. Jacob and Chad both looked at the clock across the room. ⁃ Good. Only 3:40. ⁃ Buddy, that clocks wrong. After you, I had Mrs. Walsh, and I got done with her at 6. It had to be at least 6:30 by now. ⁃ What? It can’t be! Chad looked down at his watch and showed it to Jacob. ⁃ 6:45 actually. ⁃ No! No...no...no! Fuck!! It can’t be!! Fuck!!! Jacob ran over and grabbed a Zip drive from his desk. ⁃ He’s going to kill me. I’ll never make it over there in time. I only have my bike with me... Fuck!!! ⁃ Take my Jeep. ⁃ What? ⁃ Here take my Jeep . How far away does he live? ⁃ About 20 minutes by bike... ⁃ So you’ll get there in no time with my Jeep. I’ll stay here and when you get back we can go for a drink. ⁃ Oh my God. Thank you so much. ⁃ No problem. I have a spot right outside. Just calm down and be careful. ⁃ I will. I promise. I’ll be right back, Grabbing Chad’s keys, Jacob tore out the door leaving Chad alone in the now empty lab. He could never be holed up in a room like this, examining stones and rats. He was too much of a physical person. He needed to be out and about either working out, or jogging, or any other of his physical hobbies. He never had any interest in scholarly pursuits. To him the stone was just a stone...even if it did apparently change colours and come with a pretty cool backstory. Chad picked up the stone and looked at the computer screen one more time. ⁃ So...the light goes through the stone and into the rat... *********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************** Jacob parked the Jeep, turned it off, and got out slower then he wanted to. After that ordeal at Professor Lease’s house, he was both physically and mentally exhausted. He had to simply stand there as the older man berated him over punctuality, responsibility, and the qualities it took to be an adjunct professor in his department. Jacob has nearly cried as Lease went on and on and on. He would have continued even longer if his Uber hadn’t arrived to take him to the airport. The final insult to injury cane as Professor Lease passed Chad’s Jeep and said: ⁃ This is yours? ⁃ No. I borrowed it from a friend. ⁃ I didn’t think someone like you would drive something like this. Shape-up, Mr. Harrow. With that, he slammed the door to the Uber, and was whisked away. Jacob waved to the car as it quickly faded into the distance wishing he had the balls to give him the finger instead of this ridiculous display of false affection. Now as he opened the glass door to the building that housed his office/lab, he decided that he would take the lift up to the fourth floor instead of climbing each of the stairs. Nearly thinking about the climb in his current mood filled him with dread. It was while thinking these thoughts that he suddenly realized the foyer to his building was in complete darkness. Moving to the wall that held the light switch, he blindly felt his hand around until he found it. Click. Click. Nothing. There must be an outage somewhere, he thought, and gazing outside, realized it was only his and a couple of other buildings in the area that were bathed in complete darkness. Carefully taking each step that laid ahead of him, Jacob began the journey to the fourth floor. Chad must be sitting upstairs in the dark since he wasn’t outside to greet him, Jacob thought as he reached the second floor. Jacob smiles as he thought of his friend doing push-ups or sit-ups to keep himself busy as he waited in the dark. He wished he had his friends energy and drive when it came to fitness...but it wasn’t anything that ever really interested him. He never would have even joined the gym if it hadn’t been for the offer to have 300.00 pounds taken off of his private insurance with proof that he was living a healthy life. He would have quit a week after joining if it hadn’t been for being paired up with Chad for an offer of four free sessions with a personal trainer. Chad’s sexiness kept him returning for the four sessions, and just the thought of being able to hang out with someone like him had Jacob signing up for three sessions a week. Now that they were friends Chad told him he would train him for free, but Jacob refused. He knew that his friend needed the money, so He made up the excuse of not getting Chad in trouble with his Boss at the gym for continuing the payments. It wasn’t a lot, but Jacob was glad to be able to help his friend out. As he climbed the final flight of stairs that would take him to his office, Jacob saw flashes of light as well as what sounded like sexual moans coming from under his door. As he got closer, Jacob could hear his friend clearly as Chad let out a loud ⁃ FUCK!!! Jacob laughed quietly. Chad must have gotten bored waiting for him in the dark and decided to rub one out while watching porn on his phone, which would account for the flashing light. He thought he would wait outside until Chad finished up when he heard Chad calling out to him, moaning as he spoke: ⁃ Jacob! Fuck!! Come in! ⁃ I think you’re doing just fine on your own. You don’t need me. ⁃ Get in here!! Man!! I have a surprise for you! Fuck yeah!! Slight embarrassed thinking about what he was about to see, Jacob opened the door. What he actually saw far exceeded his imagination of what Chad has been up to. The laser was powered on, and the beam was first going through a magnifying glass that had somehow been rigged onto the apparatus, then through the stone which was rapidly changing every colour known to man. The beam continued through the stone, emerging as a multi coloured arrow of light hitting Chad squarely in the chest. Chad was shirtless, and the sweat that was pouring down his chest was highlighted in the every changing array of colours. ⁃ You made it just in time. ⁃ What the fuck are you doing, mate!! You’re crazy. Jacob ran over to the switch that powered the beam with every intention of turning it off. ⁃ Don’t!! As Jacobs hand reached for the switch, an arch of electronic energy erupted from the panel, shocking him into submission. ⁃ He won’t let you stop it. Not now. Chad’s moaning continued, and his breathing became more rapid. Jacob could see he was aroused from the obvious tenting of his shorts. ⁃ If you felt like I did, you’d never want this to stop either. I feel like I’m having thousands of orgasms all at the same time, and they keep getting more and more powerful... I can hardly stand it. ⁃ Who’s this ‘he’ that you mentioned? ⁃ I don’t know. He’s just a voice I can hear in my head. He told me how to wire up your laser and draw all of the power from the building. He said you were so close... you just needed a push. ⁃ You shouldn’t have tested it on yourself. We have no clue what it will do to you. ⁃ I still don’t. All I know is as each second passes, it’s filling me up more and more with power. Jacob leaned against the desk and watched his friend experiencing what seemed like pain and ecstasy at the same time. ⁃ I just wanted to help. I got the idea for the magnifying glass from what you said about it transforming the soldier into a magnified version of himself. Maybe the light just needed to be magnified. So, I rigged that magnifying glass there, set the rat on the table, and turned it on. Nothing. I then thought...maybe you didn’t need a rat...maybe you needed a guinnea pig. A human one. So I moved the rat and put myself there. At first Nothing happened, and then I heard a whisper in the back of my head, almost like a thought to take my shirt off...so I did. Once it was hitting my flesh, I could hear the whispering better. He told me you were being too careful...the rat would never work because it had no real cognizant thoughts. Then he said the power was too low. He had me turn it up and then step into the beam. The voice was getting louder...and he said that it still wasn’t strong enough, so he told me how to rewire the entire console, draining energy from this building and three more that surrounded it. He also had me put that failsafe around the switch because he knew if you came back you would be worried and shut it…Awww! Fuck…Jacob!!! Nearly there!!! I’m nearly entirely filled up. Jacob!!! I’m so filled with power I feel like I’m going to explode! I can’t even explain how this feels. ⁃ What’s going to happen next? What happens when you get entirely filled up. ⁃ I don’t know! All I know is… Chad stopped talked and appeared to be listening to someone speak. - You were wrong, Jacob. It’s not a riddle. It’s a test. - A test? What do you mean? - He wants to know what I really am. Deep down…what do I really believe I am? - You’re a human…like me… - He knows that! Deep down…what am I? - Chad…please…stop this now…while you can. - I can’t, Jacob. Not now…and I don’t think I want to. What am I deep down? We both know…don’t we? We both know what I am. Jacob realized Chad was no longer speaking to him, but to the voice only he could hear. - Exactly. I’m a sexual animal. That’s what I am. I’ve always known that. We both know that. Silence again for a few moments…and then Chad started speaking again. - What do I wish to become? What will I be? A sexual beast…a sexual conqueror… a sexual warrior? Jacob leaned forward as he saw Chad smile and then laugh. - Exactly. Why stop there. You’re right. That is exactly what I need to be. A God. A sexual God. Suddenly the room went silent. The beam from the laser shut off, and the only thing that eliminated the room was a glow from the stone…now completely clear. - It’s happening, Jacob. I can feel it. I’m changing! Oh, Fuck! My cock! Look at my cock! Jacob watched as the bulge in his shorts started to get bigger and bigger, looking as if someone was inflating a large balloon with air. Chad threw his head back and started moaning loudly again. - I can feel my whole body changing, Jake. What am I becoming? Jacob watched as Chad’s bulge proceeded to get bigger and bigger until he finally heard his underwear rip, and his cock flopped out the leg hole of his shorts. Fuck, Jacob thought, his cock is nearly down to his knee and it’s still growing. The shaft continued to grow longer and thicker, the head growing larger and meatier. - Fuck yeah, Jake! Fuckin take a look at me!!! Jacob couldn’t help looking at Chad as his penis continued to stretch and swell. Within a few minutes the massive shaft was nearing the floor. It was thicker than Chad’s own muscular arms, and just as veiny. The head was nearly as thick as two of Jacob’s fist together, and had a gaping hole he easily could have stuck several fingers into. - I’m getting so horny, Jake. I don’t think I’ve ever been this horny. Chad’s cock began to get thicker and longer as it got harder, defying gravity and rising up off of the floor. Soon there was a war between Chad’s penis and his shorts, and to no ones surprise, the penis won, first tearing the leg of his shorts, and then quickly destroying the rest of the material. Chad stood there naked, his eyes wild and filled with lust, his hands moving toward the shaft of his newly grown penis. Even with his long arms he couldn’t touch the head of it, and both hands were not enough to encircle the girth. Chad looked at Jacob and grinned. - Can’t wait to fuck with this thing!! - I’m not sure anyone will be able to take you with it. - Oh yeah? Take a look! As if Chad was willing it of his own accord, a river of pre began to flow from the hole at the end of his massive cock. It was like someone had turned a faucet on and walked away from the tap. Jacob looked at Chad, and watched him close his eyes. - Take another look. Jacob looked back down at Chad’s cock, and watched as pre suddenly began to flow from tiny pores all over his cock. Soon, the entire shaft was slick and dripping with pre. - Apparently I’m self lubricating now. Chad’s hearty laugh suddenly deepened three octaves as his hands cuped the testicles that sat in his sack. They were quickly enlarging to match his penis. Chad felt around his sack, cupping the two orange sized balls with a smirk that suddenly turned into a grimace of pain. Jacob looked down to where Chad’s hands had quickly gone to, and discovered there appeared to be a third testicle emerging. - What the fuck’s happening to me? Chad’s voice was so low now it was more like a grumble. Jacob could see a fourth testicle suddenly form in his ball sack, and begin to swell. Chad’s sack grew larger as the four testicles grew to the size of extremely large grapefruits. This sudden rush of god like testosterone hit Chad all at once, and hair began to sprout all over his body. Jet black hair began to take root around his lips and on his chin forming the manliest of beards. His bare chest was next as hair began to thickly coat his pecs. Like water flowing down a mountain, his abs, then crotch, and finally legs were covered in silky black hair. Chad’s hands felt his face and chest, marveling at the sudden carpet of hair that had grown there. Soon after, his muscular arms began to be covered as well, leading to his arm pit which grew a dense outcrop of hair. - What do you think, Jake? I always wanted to be a little hairier. The exploration of his new hairy body was cut short by a sudden jolt of pain. Jacob moved toward Chad, but his arm flew out and stopped him. - It’s okay, buddy. Don’t worry. I think I’m growing. Jacob watched on with concern as Chad’s body began to jerk and then convulse wildly. He feared Chad was having some sort of a seizure, but realized it was simply every muscle in his body pulsing with new found power. Jacob surveyed Chad’s chest where it seemed to be hitting with the most force. His already muscular pecs were pumping larger and larger as if it was ten years of solid chest workouts in one minute. - Look at these chesticles! I can barely see over them! Chad had barely uttered these words when his pecs flourished even larger blocking any view he would have of his lower body. Chad looked preposterous with these now 100 pound each pecs plastered to his body, but that appearance was to be short lived. Chad’s neck began to grow outward, thickening like a redwood. His shoulders erupted upward, becoming grander and more rounded. Jacob heard the cracking of bones and noticed both of Chad’s arms were lengthening as his biceps and triceps expanded and enlarged. Soon Chad’s hands scraped the floor, as his forearms thickened to the size of Jacob’s own thigh. Each finger lengthened and expanded, and the palm of his hand became as large as a manhole cover. Chad lifted his hands off of the ground and examined them. - I think I might have some trouble finding gloves to fit these mits! Chad flexed both of his long arms with a grin. His bi’s and tri’s erupted in size, becoming larger than Jacob’s head and still continued to swell. Chad dropped his arms, his huge hands slapping the floor. They didn’t rest on the floor for long as Chad’s lats began to expand like the rest of him. His back was growing wider and wider, and soon his arms didn’t rest against his side anymore, but were forced away from him. A rumble of laughter erupted from Chad. His cock had started leaking pre again, and his hands had begun to stroke the mighty shaft. Even with his massive hands, Chad still couldn’t complete grip his cock, and needed to use both to completely encircle it. One hand left his cock and moved to his pecs where he began to play with his nipples. Along with his chest, each nipple had grown and now were the length and thickness of Jacob’s own thumbs. His pecs had gotten so large that the nipples were forced downward, and the cleft between them could completely hide Jacobs foot. From his pecs, Chad’s hands went down to his abs which were beginning to grow along with the rest of them. Chad had an incredible 6 pack before, but now each abdominal muscle swelled to resemble thick body armor. The hair that had grown on his chest did nothing to hide the incredible wall of muscle that was emerging on his stomach. The sound of bones breaking and reassembling themselves began again, and Jacob watched as Chad’s legs began to grow longer. Where the man had once been at least 6 feet tall, his height skyrocketed to seven feet and then closer to eight. In moments, Chad’s head had hit the ceiling, bringing plaster down onto his body. Not to be left out, Chad’s feet ripped from his sneakers, and soon began to cover three of the 12 inch floor tiles, and then proceeded to eclipse a fourth. Chad screamed out in pain and reached for his ball sack. - Fuck!!! I’m growing another set again! The growth of the third set of testicles brought a further wave of testosterone through Chad, causing his body hair to become even denser, and swelling his quads and calves until his legs were thicker than redwood trees. Chad had to adjust his stance several times as his thighs grew more and more massive. A further cry of pain brought his hands back to his balls. - What now??!! To Jacob’s eyes, it appeared like the six large balls were moving around on their own inside Chad’s ball sack. - They’re merging! Jacob watched in awe as the six large testicles merged into two of the largest balls he had ever seen. They didn’t appear out of place on Chad’s massive body, but next to a mere human, they would be as large as ostrich eggs. Chad’s massive hands flew suddenly to his head as he cried out again. Slowly, Chad’s head and face were expanding, getting large to fit in proportion to his body. His mandible cracked as his jawline squared off, somewhat hidden by Chad’s new beard, but still obvious. - This is it pal! This is it!! Every part of Chad’s body grew even larger than it had been before, gaining hundred more pounds in muscle and size in minutes. With his bearlike paws, Chad grabbed his cock and began to frantically jerk it off. The second round of growth continued faster as Chad fell to his knees as to not go through the ceiling. Even on his knees, Chad was taller than Jacob. Pre was flying everywhere as Chad proceeded to masturbate with fervor. He’s going to explode, Jacob though, watching his friend getting far larger than anything he could imagine. Suddenly, Chad stopped all action. Jacob wondered what was next, and realized Chad’s focus was now on his cock. Longer and thicker it swelled, finger sized veins criss-crossing the length of it. The head swelled even larger still, and with the power of his giant testicles, Chad began to ejaculate. Cum erupted from Chad’s penis, hitting every object in the room, including Jacob. Shot after shot were fired, until it seemed there was no end in sight. Chad grabbed hold of his cock again with one hand trying to control where it was firing, but only succeeding in exciting himself more. Sweat ran down Chad’s face as an eroma of male musk emerged from his body. Jacob came in his trousers simply from seeing and smelling his friend. Chad lifted his arm and smelled his own armpit. Smiling at Jacob, he proceeded to squeeze his massive right nipple, and let out the lowest moan of ecstacy Jacob had ever heard. Seven more shots of cum erupted from Chad’s penis, and then there was silence; cum dripping quietly from the massive hole. - It’s done, Jake. - You’re massive. - How big do you think I am? - I don’t know. Probably close to 9 feet tall and thousands of pounds. Your damn head is as big as my chest… both heads… and even after cumming for nearly 10 minutes your cock is still hard. - I’m still horny. I don’t think I’ll ever not be horny again. Jacob laughed. - I can’t wait till the world gets a look at you. - What do you think of me? - You’re incredible. So far beyond human. - I ceased being human about twenty minutes ago. He gave me a choice for my shape…and for a moment I thought of becoming a two-hundred foot dragon. What do you think? Chad closed his eyes, and through only his will, two large amphibious wings ripped from his back. They were as wide and masculine as he was. Chad breathed, and fire erupted from his mouth. His eyes became those of a snake, and a moment later, fire erupted from the head of Chad’s penis, proving to Jacob that he was indeed more God than man. - You’re magnificent now, but I’m more at ease with how you were before… - I could destroy you with a mere thought if I wanted to…reduce you to dust with a single wish. Jacob knew every word Chad was saying was true. But, when Chad smiled down at him, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Chad’s wings folded into his back again, and his eyes reverted to their customary look. - He wants to know when you’ll join us. He wants you to take your place among the God’s. - He still talks to you? - No. He’s silent. He’s waiting for you. - I don’t know… this might all be too much for me. I don’t know what kind of God I’d be. - Deep down you know what you are… just like I knew what I am. Jacob did know what he was, but he was afraid to admit it. Afraid of what he would become. - But first… I need to thank you. Chad blew, and every stitch of Jacobs clothes disappeared. Chad grinned, and opened his mouth, revealing his tongue. As Jacob watched, his tongue lengthened and proceeded to move snakelike down his body until it wrapped itself around Jacob’s cock and balls. Before he knew it, Chad’s tongue was slowly jerking him off. The tip of his tongue licked his cock head, and teased the opening. Just when he thought he couldn’t take amymore, Chad effortlessly lifted him off of the floor until they were eye to eye. Chad grinned a wicked grin, and his tongue proceeded to lengthen again, making its way toward Jacob’s asshole. Within moments, he was being both jerked off and rimmed by the God that held him. Chad’s tongue entered Jacobs hold, sending shockwaves through him. What will I become…Jacob wondered as his friends huge tongue proceeded to enter him further and further, thickening as it went, and proceeded to start fucking him. What will I become? He knew it was far from human… even further than his friend had come, and that scared and excited him.

As I slowly opened my eyes I also began to wake up. Yes, there's a double entendre there...well let me explain. He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at me. To say this beast of a man was huge was belittling any word that would be akin to describing his immense presence. Colossal is another word that is an injustice to him. He was the size of a God. Yep, like the ones in mythology, or the latest superhero movie. He was literally bigger than any man I had ever seen anywhere, let alone have known...and I'm all about huge muscular men. He was the size of the largest of grizzly bears and almost as furry as one. Even though he was, sort of, hunched over and sitting, I would fathom that he was at least 7...no...maybe closer to 8 feet tall. He upper body, which is what I could instantly see because his sleeveless flannel shirt was completely open , exposed a series of enormous hills and valleys of muscle that were swollen, comic book style, that seemingly took over half of the room. The weight of his chest made his nipples point toward the floor...and his nipples, Jesus; they were literally the size of a baby bottle nipple, but dark and covered with hair. My mouth began to water as I studied and began to imagine sucking on them. As I said, his plaid shirt was open, but I imagine it was for comfort more than showing off his body to me, since I would imagine that most clothes would barely fit this God. Even his pants were "mostly" loose, but I'll get into that in a moment. His arms and torso were covered in tats under his thick coat of fur and they lifted and shifted like images making love every time he moved or even breathed. I looked at his face, only for brief moments in between my raping stares of his body, to see one of the thickest, darkest beards where my tongue would get lost in its forest of density after sucking and kissing his plump thick lips and large mouth. His eyes were dark and intense as they seemingly bore a hole through me, deep into my soul. I could see that his forehead and the rest of his exposed skin had beads of moisture over him as he seemed to gleam with perspiration. As I watched one of the beads begin to trail down his neck, then to his chest and down the pec valley toward his navel, another sense...the sense of smell reminded me of the pure sexual nature of this beast. The musky smell of him was incredibly overpowering, but not offensive. He smelled like a man in every way, but not a dirty unclean man...more like a man who had just finished a huge workout and his testosterone was in overdrive. But this was not a normal man; I had to remind myself that I was not in the presence of someone normal. He was more, so much more. In fact, to retrace my thoughts a bit, as I woke up I had taken a large inhale of him even before my eyes were open and his pheromones hit me like wall which caused me to moan in an orgasmic bliss that took over my body and caused my cock to lightly shoot precum onto my belly. As of now having the realization that I was naked, spread eagle with my legs and arms tied to the bed posts. My cock was already rock hard and pulsating from the normal amount of inhaling his scent while I was unconscious. I also realized that I must have been precuming a lot since I could feel the wetness of small puddles that my pubic hair was soaking in. The fact that I loved bondage was only heightening my thrill and euphoria. My hole puckered on and off as well, begging to be violated, which like my cock was entirely uncontrollable. There was no denying that I was already under his spell with only two of my five senses being taken over. I longed to hear him speak, taste his body and feel him inside me. As I looked down further on him, he had on a green belt that was holding up blue nylon workout pants. While they were very loose around his mid-section his thighs and calves pushed the nylon fabric to a taunt unwrinkled smoothness, even showing the definition of them through the fabric. I exhaled out a hmmpf as I realized that his nylon pants looked more like spandex on him. My asshole puckered again. As I looked closer at the fabric, I noticed that the threads were beginning to tear, but not so much in a burst out of the clothes sort of way, more like they had been stretched to their limits so much that the nylon was beginning to unravel and rip. I'm sure if he would have wanted to, he could have just flexed and exploded out of them, but as with his shirt, i believe he wore these, not to impress, but to actually live in. By the looks of it, the shirt and pants might have been what he wore most all the time. As I said, I just can't imagine where a God like this would find normal clothes to wear. He was much larger than a 5XL or even an 8XL...Hell; I bet his actual size was more of a 15XL. But ALL of that wasn’t even the most amazingly and scary thing about him. Coming down his left leg, from his crotch, like a fully fed python, was a tubular mound that was at least as round as a 2 liter bottle and close to 2 feet long, possibly 20 inches. There was no mistaking that it was his cock, as it’s thick bulbous head could be seen through the fabric, but an even more amazing thing was that the nylon pants at the end had a wet spot that continued to become moistened by a flow coming from his cock head. The threads here were the most worn and I could literally see skin beneath. Following up the Drain pipe I marveled in the size of his balls that filled his crotch area, like a small animal in a bag that moved and pushed its way to get out. I imagined that the production of sperm was enough to fill a gallon jug every time he came. I took another large breath in as I gasped at the size of his cock and the thought of the amount of sperm and it hit me, like a train. My asshole clinched hard, my stomach tightened up and I screamed out in ecstasy as I convulsed in the strongest and longest orgasm of my life. A large glob of cum hit his left pec, dripping down onto his nipple and then down onto his massive thigh. The 2nd shot arched up and over my head, while the 3rd, 4th and 5th shot covered my face, “covered” being the optimal word. The last remaining ropes landed on my legs and torso. As I came, I knew that I had never had such an intense and copious amount of cum in my life and I continued to cum a strong flowing river, as my orgasm took almost a full minute before it was over. After I calmed down, even though my cock was still as rigid as a board, he began to speak and the sound of his low booming, but non-threatening voice satisfied my third sense, and possibly forth sense, as I could feel the vibrations of the words resonate inside my body. Every consonant, hit me like an inward motion of a fuck thrust penetrating me and filling me with warmth and I realized this was yet another way that he could literally make me cum if he were to speak louder. After the last orgasm, I was in need of a rest. He told me his name was Jake and, thankfully, he softly continued as he told me that he had found me floating in the river behind his house. It seemed I had crashed my car into the ravine and had been thrown from it. I tried to remember what had happened, but with 3 or 4 senses being controlled, my mind was not in much use to remember anything other then what was in front of me. Jake said he pulled me out of the river and had stripped me of my clothing so he could look at me to see if I had anything broken. When he realized that, physically I was okay; he picked me up and took me inside his house. Since he had already taken off my wet clothes, he noticed that my cock began to harden and he knew what was about to happen, so he put me in his bed. As soon as I was in bed he said that I began to flay about with my arms and legs as I began my "state of bliss" as he called it, so he tied me down, so I wouldn’t injure myself. That’s when my cock began to shoot precum and he couldn’t help but stare at me. He said he was sorry that he was getting excited watching me and that his body pours a very heavy amount of pheromones into the air, when he gets horny, which he slightly moaned and said was almost constantly. That moan, caused electrical currents racing through me and my cock began to fountain again. This time, luckily, it wasn't as huge of an orgasm as before, but nonetheless, it was the second most powerful one I had ever experienced. When I finally calmed down, he turned to look away from me and then, he looked down, as if he were almost sad and said that he knows he is an outcast and that no one would ever be able to love him. Jake said that they only use him and he hates them for it. I asked him if he could tell me more about it. He told me that he has lived alone for the past several years and that his only outlet is when they come to take him to the base to use him. I asked him why and he hesitated, but then began to tell me that about 5 years ago, he used to work at the biochemical plant over the mountain ridge and there was an accident one day. He told me he was one of their chemists and they were working on a new formula using the sun and some airborne chemicals from space and animal, most Bull, Bison and Bear hormones, to help grow plants to provide added nutrients for the world hunger population. They were crossing it with a new type of laser that breaks down the space and "3B" particles when there was a leak in the containment unit holding the particles, sunlight and hormones. He was asked to suit up and go in and fix the leak before the continued. He said that when he went into the containment unit there was an explosion and he was exposed to the combined elements, which must have changed his chemical makeup and caused him to grow to be like he was now. From the moment he awoke after the explosion, he could feel his body changing, but he wasn't sure what was going on as he was still very foggy and his vision was clouded. He got up and walked over to the exit of the containment unit but that his colleges wouldn't open the door to let him out. He said the look on their faces were of awe and fear. That's when he realized he was naked and huge. He said that almost instantly, his sight improved and he could feel the power inside him rise. Jake said that every sense, emotion and physical trait that a person could have, accelerated and gained 100 fold inside him. He became smarter as his mind and thoughts expanded. The first sense that he realized was at a pinnacle was his vision. It was so good, that he could see through things as he realized he was able to see his follow colleges though the steel wall separating them and he could see them looking at the monitor as they watched him. Jake knew his brain was at about 85% enlightenment, unlike that of only 10% of what a normal human would use, as he actually felt what his three friends were feeling. Alex was in shock, but also in bewilderment. He was envious of Jake and his new body, but he was also fearful. Johnathan was frightened as well, but he was sad and upset about what was happening to Jake. He was immediately thinking of ways to reverse what had happened. Then there was Stu, who was Jake's best friend. Stu was feeling awe and fear as the other two were, but Stu also had a huge desire for Jake. He could feel Stu getting aroused and he literally felt his own cock harden as Stu's did. Even though Stu had a wife and 2 kids, he couldn't help his attraction as he reached full erection and came in his lab pants. Jake looked up at the camera and smiled. He knew that he had caused this and he wanted the other two to feel the same. That's when he felt the power of inhuman strength course through him and knowing that he was strong, probably stronger than anyone on Earth, that he grabbed the door, pulled it off like a piece of scotch tape and flung it aside. He walked out into the same room as his colleges and noticed that even though Alex and Jonathan had begun to run away, they had to cross in front of Jake and his scent hit them. Immediately the two men fell onto the ground, writhing in orgasmic bliss as they both exploded their seed. Jake as well as his colleges had never been homosexual before, but at least for his colleges, there was no escaping Jake's pheromones and sexual dominance over them. Jake himself, hadn't turned gay, but was now Omnisexual or better yet for a lack of word, Alphasexual as there would be no one in the world that if he was attracted to, was completely under his spell and willing to be his sexually. He literally could make someone cum on command either using his mind, body, or scent. After Alex and Jonathan came, both men passed out. Because Stu was so infatuated with Jake, he walked up to the new Alpha and asked how he could please him. Jake decided to use Stu as his first lover. Over the course of the next 3 hours, Jake gave Stu numerous orgasms and was in complete control over the man. That's when he decided to change Stu as well. He now, instinctively, knew that his cum would change Stu to become more like himself, but he knew that if he were to fuck the man, that he would kill him. That's when he began, 'the process" as he called it. He would regulate the amount of cum that Stu would ingest orally causing Stu's own chemical make up to change and grow, making it possible for Jake to enter Stu and fill him with a full load to change Stu completely. After Stu's last oral intake, he was ready to receive Jake's cock. Just as they were about to begin, Jake felt a small pain in the back close to his kidneys. Then as the room began to go dark, he saw a group of military men with Hannibal rifles, which are enough to stop a rhino and he knew that they had used them on him, to tranquilize him. As his powers were still novice, the tranqs seem to do their job. When Jake awoke, he was undergoing a series of tests and over the course of several months; he was the military's guinea pig. They probed him and took samples of his blood and cum. Most of the time, they used machines to get the samples, as Jake's body and existence caused any human in the room to become his plaything. Sure he couldn't fuck them, but it was fun for Jake, when a new soldier had to go in the same room as him and they'd lose all their ability to resist him. He would make them cum over and over, until someone could pull them out of the room. When they had realized that he would cooperate, they released him from his "prison' and began testing "the process". Within a week, the military had been using his cum to grow men at their compound. In less than a month the had an army of over 1000 of Jake's "minions". The one thing that they couldn't do was control them. That was completely up to Jake. He is still larger and he was their master. When he would stay at the compound for a week at a time, he would constantly be "upgrading" his men...upgrading was the word the military used for fucking them and filling them with his growth cum. This also benefited Jake, to which his sexual appetite was always in overdrive and if it wasn't satisfied almost every day, Jake would become easily agitated and his anger would cause issues...broken equipment, broken jeeps, broken building but most importantly, broken humans. You see, when Jake wasn't physically and sexually satisfied, he was an unstoppable fucking machine, fucking and killing those that have not gone through "the process". That's when Jake realized he wanted or needed a partner, a lover, someone to care about. He hadn't seen Stu since the fateful day he changed and as far as he knew, Stu had left the area. Jake wanted someone that actually was in love with him and that he could return that love. That is why he was sitting on the edge of the bed, when I awoke, looking at me like I was his. I would be the one that would be with him and love him and he loves me. It was just that way. Plainly, he just knows things and he knows that when he saw me, that I was going to be his partner. It's just as simple as that...or so he thought. I looked up at him and I was angry. Angry to what had happened to him, but angrier that suddenly, I felt as though I was his project. I was the one that was going to make HIS life better. What about my life? Did he even care about what I wanted? Were my desires and wants in life going to even matter? Sure, I was completely smitten over him, but Hell, I had a mind too. I wasn't just going to be his love slave, his concubine. I wasn't just going to be his Cum Reliever!! FUCK THAT!! And then I began to do my best to get out of the restraints that he had me bound with. At first nothing happened and Jake just looked at me and smiled. I figured he knew that he had me, but it only made me angrier. I began to tug and pull on them and began to hear wood beginning to splinter. I surprised myself when I was able to tear off one of the bed posts with my left leg. Then the right one broke. A new feeling began to take me over; A feeling of strength. I felt a power in me rise and I felt my body expanding. Snap, the left arm tight broke off. I could feel my muscles growing and I looked at myself as my body began to transform. My cock was expanding as well, in length and girth. What once was a proud 8 incher was now already 11 inches long and about 8 inches thick. I felt my testosterone level go through the roof and SNAP, the right arm broke free. This one snapped like I had just broken a spider web, there was no effort involved. Then, Jake put his hand on my chest and held me there as I grew. At this point, even with all the strength that I was gaining and the growing size I was having, I couldn't move out from under him. Then he leaned down to me and kissed me. Electricity ran through my entire body, charging me up even more, causing me to grow even more and faster. Immediately I began to uncontrollably cum again as I had never felt so close and in sync with someone in my life. It was his bare skin against my skin and that's when I knew, I loved him. He took his hand off of me and as soon as I was free, I climbed onto him, feeling his immense cock below my ass and we embraced. My newly rock hard ass was quickly drenched in his precum as he began to shoot it out and I moaned again as I reached a third climax, covering our torsos between us. I told him, that I wished that he could fuck me, and he smiled. He said that he would, but first he asked if I would put my mouth over his cock to take in his cum. He said that he had given me my first amount when I was unconscious and he needed to complete the process so we would be able to make love after I did that. I climbed off of him so that he could take off his pants and his shirt as well. As he did, I kissed and licked his massive muscular arms and I sucked on his nipples, continuing to take in his musky scent causing me to almost lose consciousness this time as I shot another load. At this point, my growth had ebbed, but not my desire, which only increased. I began to cum without stopping. It wasn't spurt after spurt, but more of a consistent oozing pouring out of my cock hole. Still, internally, I was completely in a constant state of orgasm. Jake sensed this and he picked me up off of him so he could get his pants off and he laid me on my back, with my face under his crotch. Before removing his pants, he chuckled and said “poor defensiveness boy, as soon as you take my 2nd load of cum, you’ll be able hold your orgasms until you want to release them.” He added, “I’m going to change you and make you grow, not with just the muscle and size that you have already, but your mind will expand and your body will be do things no other human on Earth will do...not even the men at the base. I have held this back for the one who will be my partner. I know you think you will be my slave, but I do not want that. I want you as my equal. I want us to be the only God's on Earth. Even though you are now much stronger and bigger and you could take me inside you, I want you to have the complete enlightenment that I have. Yes, like the men at the base, you will become mine...a part of me will be you and all of you will be me. But, you will be different than them...you will be more...more of everything. More like me...more than just a human....more than a human...you will be a god and anyone who comes in contact with you will desire you. But you will be my mate...your life as you know it is no longer. We are omnipotent. I will control you and in turn you can control me...all of you!!! Do you wish this?” I nodded yes as I asked him, how this is even possible. That it felt like a dream or some wild fantasy of mine coming true and he laughed as he pulled down his pants showing me his massive cock as it sprung out showering me with his juice and the second it hit me, I again, orgasmed uncontrollably. By this time, I was just about dried out and only small darts of cum escaped my cock. Still the feeling was just as incredible. A steady flow of clear liquid came from the huge mushroom head, dripping down onto my lips. Then he asked if I was still dreaming. I told him....no...I pleaded for him to let me complete the change. He told me to open my mouth as wide as I could and I did. I tilted my head back and up and put my mouth over the slit in his cock head as he lowered it into my mouth. The slit was so large that my lips barely covered it with my open mouth. Then he told me to brace myself, by hold onto his ass or legs and to not let go. I did and soon I could feel heat rising up his cock shaft... ...Chapter 2 begins below

Marketing In the past, he had once underwent a CT scan. The machine reminded him of that experience, when the movable bunk entered the cylinder. His lean and fragile body rested on the removable paper-blanket, and his naked body was exposed to the dry and cool laboratory air, except for the camo-patterned jockstrap one of the sponsor companies had donated en masse to the lab --- the logotype ostentatiously visible on the waistband. His ears had blushed, when he entered the lab from the locker room, only dressed in this underwear, a surgeon-green blanket and flip-flops, exposed to the gaze of Dr. Bulgakova, Mr. Gruffydd, the Brigadier and Mr. Wolfensteen. Dr. Bulgakova was a stern, but professional, head of research of the project, but, despite her professionalism, he felt embarrassed to be almost naked in the presence of a ten year older woman: Too young to be of his mother's age, young enough to be interested in more appealing men of his own age, and he felt inadequate. Mr. Gruffydd was a lab assistant of his own age: A shy and cute nerdish little boffin. Gruffydd was ok. It had been a boost to his self-confidence, when Gruffydd asked him for training advice, which was a first. The Brigadier was terrifying and impressive at the same time, and, in a sense, it was flattering, that the armed forces were interested in the experiment, but the knowledge, that the Brigadier encountered much more fit and much more strong men every day, caused an awkward feeling to flutter in his stomach. Mr. Wolfensteen caused a similar reaction inside him: The head of the marketing department of a company producing sport nutrition wasn't the average pen-pusher, but a suitable public face for a company helping (or pretending to help) gymrats all over the world to attain their goals, and Mr. Wolfensteen's shirt struggled to keep its wearer's shoulders and neck inside. It was a relief, when he let the flip-flops go, Gruffydd removed his blanket, and he could hide from their gazes inside the machine. The bunk moved, he entered the cylinder, he was surrounded by the machine. It was too late to change his mind now. He had been given the opportunity to opt out, but he had signed all these forms, and now he had to undergo the experiment and stay silent about it. It had sounded so good: "Want to get big? Apply to testing. Generous pay." Years after years at the gym, and still remaining like this. Get his studies payed for testing growth supplements sounded appealing. Too late to change his mind now. Surrounded by the machine. Lack of knowledge caused him to be worried. He knew enough to feel expectant, excited. His heart rate increased. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Big. His willy grew in his jockstrap. Not knowing enough. Fluttering in his stomach. What would actually happen? What would actually happen to him? What if there were dangerous side-effects? He was the prototype of ... He didn't finish his line of thought. The humming began and intensified quickly. Though he hadn't felt a thing, when The Formula had entered his bloodstream an hour ago, he now felt his blood vessels burning painfully, and he had to struggle, to not let out a scream. Burning. Painfully. And he heard a sick cracking noise, like bone grinded to bone, which it actually did. He let out a yelp. Something was wrong with his spine and his clavicles. Sick. Cracking. Noise. His arms. Legs. Sick. And for an unknown length of time he blacked out. Sick noise. But another one. Not cracking. Not cracking anymore. More like ... like someone stuffed raw beef inside a leather sofa. And no pain anymore. Actually felt rather good. Yeah, good. SO GOOD! His veins were still warm, but not burning anymore, like a painless, delicious stream of electricity flowed through his system. Painless. Delicious. Power stream. Through him. All of his veins. All of him. Power stream. His traps. Traps felt good. Bigger now. Power stream through his legs. Wow. Quads now. Power in his hamstrings. Power in his calves. Felt broader, wider ... Delicious power stream through his entire back. Humming sound. The sound became louder. Humming and buzzing sound. His body felt like it was buzzing, too. Fuck, yeah, so good. Becoming a real bruiser. Buzzing power stream through his biceps, triceps and forearms, making him more massive. Fuck, it worked. It really worked! It wasn't just scientific guesswork ... It. Made. Him. Bigger. YES! WORKED! BIGGER! BUZZING! POWER! "Intensify the settings, Dr. Bulgakova." "There are safety protocols to consider. We must evaluate this experiment, before we go further." "Our shareholders want to see results. What happens beyond next three-month-report is of no consequence in business. Results now. Intensify." "My scientific conscience dictate ..." "My company is able to withdraw financial support, and what would happen to your scientific project, then?" The machine continued what it was made to do. The voices outside either fell silent, or were drowned in the loud humming sound of the machine. Delicious. Humming. Sound. His body hummed, too. And buzzed. Empowered. His pecs felt meatier, stronger, more powerful. And they buzzed, too, above his granite-hard six-pack. His neck turned into a bull-neck. He moaned. The buzzing. The power. So good. Bigger and bigger. The machine hummed louder now, and his body hummed more intensely, too. FUCK! Yeah, grow this gym-lad. Grow this bruiser you are creating! Give me more! Cram more of it into me! Make me your thuggish brawn-titan! I want ... UHNNNNN! Felt better than anything he could ... UHNNNNNN! Yeah! More! THIS is what I need! THIS is what masculinity feels like! THIS is what it is like to BECOME masculinity! Wild and savage instincts awoke inside him, hidden and repressed deeply inside him, but he knew, that the machine hadn't created them, just released them and amplified them. Amplifying ... YES! AMPLIFYING HIS RAW STRENGTH! HIS MASS! The machine hummed even louder now. He couldn't control himself now, and writhed in growth-frenzy and pleasure. His cock was a steel-hard power-rod tenting inside his camo-jockstrap, and his entire muscle mass had achieved steel-hard qualities. His now bulging mega-mass was covered in veins, and every vein pulsed of humming, buzzing POWER. His steel-rod throbbed. His pecs, biceps and traps throbbed. His entire body throbbed, engorged by forced, voluptious hypertrophy. When the feeling increased even more, he couldn't stop himself from roaring in unrestrained, confident, asserting, ecstacy. Outside the machine, Mr. Wolfensteen lit a cigarette. Dr. Bulgakova watched in fear. The Brigadier had fallen silent in awe. Mr. Gruffydd had a wet blotch around his fly. Mr. Wolfensteen enjoyed the show. The test subject was now bigger, than any roid-head Mr. Wolfensteen had ever encountered in his career. The behemoth of a lad inside the machine, would be the perfect poster-boy for his company's new product line, if the Armed Forces would allow it, and they would. Money talks. This test result would soon become very good for marketing. Probably a good idea to book the photo shoots and video shoots already. They would become a marketing success, he was sure.

Preface Yes. It is another short story without continuation. There are other sorts of stories than multi-chapter ones. Yes. It is another one in an army setting, as so many other stories of mine. I repeat myself. Yes. It will be dark and dystopian, since this technology would always be abused, if it existed, which is a pity: I would have preferred a bright and colourful world of plucky, cheerful Captain Norways, Captain Luxembourgs and Captain Canadas full of high ideals. You have been warned. The Antaeus protocol He could feel the familiar scent of the hypertrophic solution. The odour made him think of wounds tended by iodine, swimming pools kept clean by calcium hypochlorite or chemistry lessons from school years, but, despite the similarities, the hypertrophic solution had a unique and unmistakeable scent of its own, and by now Sergeant Scott could recognise it anywhere. No one would say, that it smelled good, but, by now, Sergeant Scott had begun to associate it with Project Ultramarine, and most things with Project Ultramarine made him feel excited. Most things. He could vaguely recollect aspects of the Project, that didn't make him feel excited: The simulated interrogations, the simulated torture, the abrupt wake-ups at 3 or 4 a.m., but those things beside, he felt honoured, that he had been chosen for the Project, and he felt excited every time Doctor Ohm scheduled him for The Chamber. It was almost as something out of a comic book: Scott had joined the Royal Marines, been re-assigned to SAS, done well in things related to endurance, marksmanship, diving, HAHO/HALO and intelligence, but he was scrawny, and had weak results in anything related to heavy equipment. One of his superiors had re-assigned him to a top secret project: Project Ultramarine. Sergeant Scott had increased six inches in height and 55 lbs in weight – none of it bodyfat, all of it muscle mass. Scott felt like a different person, and he liked to be one of the chosen for the project. He wanted to serve in the armed forces in order to protect civilians, and Project Ultramarine increased his ability to perform his duty. Just a few weeks ago, he had marched with heavy equipment across the Cairngorm Mountains with a medium speed of 18 mph despite an intense snow storm. He turned around a corner. Brigadier Smythe-Fforbes had invited a handful of high-ranking officers, but it was not of Scott's concern to know any details. Need-to-know-basis. As usual. The scent of the hypertrophic solution was now mixed with whiffs of the dry air and scent left by anabolic radiation. Not exactly like the dentist's, not exactly like a tanning bed, but, despite the traces of hypertrophic steam, the air felt dryer than normal, and it tickled in his throat. He entered the Lab. Quite a few men sat on chairs or stood small-talking, when he entered. Doctor Ohm and Evans, the lab assistant, were the only civilians, and were easily recognisable in their white lab coats and black rubber gloves. He saluted and stood at attention. "Stand at ease, Sergeant!" Scott stared straightforward, but his enhanced senses had already identified an unusually high number of generals, admirals and marshals among the gathered men. For a few seconds his mind drifted – drifted back in time to his first exposure to The Chamber. Doctor Ohm had only exposed him to a low amount of anabolic radiation at that time, but, since it was his first bath in the hypertrophic solution, he hadn't known what to expect, and the experience had been overwhelming. The energy blast had hit him like a blow, and his wiry physique had began to fill out in a very pleasant way, that had taken him with surprise. He had become empowered, he had felt his strength increase, and the formula given to him 45 minutes before treatment had been released by the relentless onslaught of the anabolic radiation. After his first submersion in The Chamber, Doctor Ohm and Evans had permitted him three consecutive exposures, weeks of tests and evaluation apart. Doctor Ohm was reluctant to increase the formula, the concentration of the solution and the intensity of the radiation, and only increased them in small steps, after what seemed like careful consideration. Sometimes, Scott had noticed traces of impatience in Evans' face, but didn't give it much of a thought. He had also observed seemingly inactive lenses in the walls of the chamber – the radiation came from below and above. The Brigadier had been giving a speech, and Sergeant Scott's attention returned to the Lab. "And as you have read in the handouts, Gentlemen, the effect is very promising. Before we proceed, I will let you observe the test subject's present level of ability." The Brigadier waved in the direction of the weights. Scott had been told beforehand, that he should demonstrate his strength before the guests. Scott lay down on a bench, removed the barbell from the stand, and began to press the weight of 660 lbs up and down, up and down: Nine times. He could feel blood rush to his newly trained pecs. It felt good. He rose and stood at ease. The officers were whispering. The Brigadier continued. "As you may understand, this neglected branch of research is in need of further funding, and, as you have seen and read, the results are very promising. But this is not all. You will also witness the next step of the test subject's enhancement. Doctor Ohm? Mr. Evans? Sergeant Scott!" "Sir!" "Please proceed to The Chamber, Sergeant." "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Evans stood at the landing, and helped Scott with the facial breathing mask and the electrodes at his temples. Scott descended down the steps in the still empty chamber. Evans closed the lid. Normally, Scott would have undressed before entering the chamber, but, as he understood it, The Brigadier would give the guests a show, in order to ensure funding. The glass was too thick to allow him to hear all noises from outside, but his enhanced ability to listen would allow him to receive a few fragments, at least. The Brigadier gesticulated outside, and seemed to continue his speech. Doctor Ohm turned to the console, and Evans stood ready by the switches for the gas and the solution. A hissing sound began, and Scott eagerly inhaled. It had become better and better by each time, and he couldn't guess how much better it would be this time. A silent murmuring sound, he now was familiar with, grew in intensity, turning to a hum, and, as the murmur increased into a humming sound, Scott's anticipation increased, too: The anabolic radiation device was heating up, and he was soon going to be exposed to something, that would improve his endurance, increase his strength and enhance the size of his muscles. He swallowed. A whispering sound combined with a slight dizziness witnessed, that the formula was spreading in his body, and it was ready to react to the anabolic rays. The chamber felt dry, and the hair on his forearms bristled like the first time. Like the other times. Any second now. He swallowed. Unconsciously, he tensed his muscles in anticipation of the oncoming flow of energy, and his dick awoke inside his pants and camo trousers. He became acutely aware of his bodily extension: How his feet were enclosed by green socks and boots smelling of boot polish. His camo trousers smelled of moth repellant, and the olive-coloured t-shirt felt snug and tight on his hard and built torso. He could feel the pump in his pecs, from the bench press a few minutes earlier. The humming increased. So did his blood pressure. He wouldn't call it fright or fear, but each step of enhancement was a step into the unknown. He was the prototype. It hadn't been done before. No one could know with certainty, that each latest step was free from risk. Even if the experiments had turned successful in the past, the new factors introduced at this step could have unforeseen consequences. He ran the risk of bodily harm or even lethal effects, but on the other side, if it worked, the positive effects might be far beyond their expectations. He hoped, that Doctor Ohm knew what he did, but the almost exaggerated cautiousness, by which the scientist had proceeded during Project Ultramarine, comforted Sergeant Scott in his doubts: The Doctor didn't take any risks. Any second now. The breathing mask hissed. His throat felt dry. He swallowed. He could hear his pulse in his temples. His dick throbbed against the fabric of his pants. Evans had mentioned something about high testo levels. The Chamber hummed more loudly now. He braced himself. Then it erupted. The rays beamed through him, penetrating every muscle fibre in his body, and there was nothing he could do to protect him from it, had the effect been dangerous. But it felt good. He could feel his muscles react to the radiation, feeling more than pumped, sore and heavy and powerful at the same time, and he could feel the hem of the t-shirt slip out of his trousers, and slide upwards over his waist and belly-button, revealing his cobble-stone six-pack and his steel-hard obliques. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, and only absent-mindedly aware of the splashing sound of hypertrophic solution, that, with increasing force, began to fill the chamber. The t-shirt felt ever tighter, and the anabolic rays empowered him, more than ever before. With a yelp, he flexed his arms, and the short sleeves of his shirt ripped apart. With a moan, he did a crab, and the remaining fabric fell into the solution, tumbling around in the bubbling liquid. Though cargo trousers are supposed to be wide, the camo-patterned trouser legs could no longer contain his growing – nay, expanding! – quads and hamstrings, and the tatters, that once had been trouser-fabric was soon floating together with the former t-shirt. The Brigadier said something. The audience looked amazed. The level of the liquid rose quickly, and Scott felt relief, when he became fully surrounded by it, floating in the hypertrophic solution, that increased the effect of the anabolic rays tenfold, twentyfold. The boots felt uncomfortable around his feet. It had been a bad idea to keep them for propaganda purposes. They actually felt quite painful and too tight! And then his growing feet forced themselves out of the army boots, which sank to the bottom of The Chamber. Only his pants remained, and they were made of some sort of stretchy fabric, that felt comfortable against his bum and dick. Wet. Elastic. Expanding. Keeping his rod in place. Adapting. He was adapting, too. He floated with closed eyes in the warm solution, and he allowed his big, growing hands explore the slabs of power-beef he once had called his pecs. His shoulders were increasing too: Hard! Bulging! Still growing! Each one of the three shoulder muscles clearly separated – which also was true about the two heads of each biceps. He let his index finger touch his biceps and run along the separation between the two muscle heads. His palm squeezed his tensed biceps. It felt hard and good, approaching the size of a handball now. Size of a handball! His dick twitched. Size-of-a-handball-now! The liquid turned the thick glass into a mirror. He could watch his own reflection, and it amazed him, but the thick glass made it hard to hear what happened outside. He thought he could hear fragments of an argument. A few tumbling chairs? Raised voices? The Brigadier? One of the generals? Doctor Ohm? ".... No! Safety precautions..." And then gunfire. A few shouts. An unknown voice: "... proceed... ...increase... ...activate the Antaeus Protocol." "No! Not the Antaeus Protocol! Too dangerous! ... untested..." "... increase..." He felt alarmed for a few seconds, but then something happened. Something amazing. Something that defied all description. The electrodes used for programming of brainwave-pattern activated, and they activated with heightened intensity. It was not like any of the gradual and mild programming sessions he had experienced before. He was overwhelmed. The promise of mental and bodily pleasure made him eager to learn new abilities, and the Antaeus Protocol taught him to kill without remorse, erased his conscience and turned him into an obedient combat-machine. There was a second or two of hesitation and surprise, but the human instincts and hesitating conscience were soon quenched by the unbending and relentless Antaeus Protocol. His resistance was broken. He accepted the Antaeus Protocol, and, in the same second, the anabolic radiation increased in intensity. His eyes widened. His entire body spasmed for a few seconds. He could feel his cock rip the fabric of his pants apart. Testo levels! TESTO POWER! The surrounding hypertrophic solution bubbled intensely now, increasing the effect of the rising anabolic radiation manyfold. It went far beyond any of the earlier experiments, and Scott was now unaware of his surroundings, lost in the overwhelming experience of extreme, unlimited GROWTH. The unknown lenses he had observed before in two of the walls began to lit up, and flashed into life. The chamber, the liquid and anything inside the chamber were now exposed to two different types of power. The effect of the hypertrophic radiation was multiplied by the synergy of the unknown power. Scott's arms and legs thrashed around uncontrollably in the energised, bubbling liquid and his moans increased into bellows and roars: Bellows and roars of pleasure, bellows and roars of unbridled aggression and bellows and roars of a nameless ecstasy going beyond them both. He grew uncontrollably now, but he didn't want to control it. He just wanted more. He wanted all of it. He wanted uncrushable brawn and indestructible muscle mass. In the mirror-like surface of The Chamber he could see his physical appearance transcend all formerly known limits of the human physique. He must have been 6'10'' now, and he was still increasing rapidly in height. His muscle mass was like some unknown matter which was boiling over, but there was nothing random or deformed with his shape: The expanding steel-hard beef was shaping itself into the most well-proportioned and efficient icon of strength beyond strength, masculinity beyond ultra-masculinity. The gigantic shape of a titan emerged. A powerful titan bulging and throbbing of muscular strength. Scott felt the mounds – no, mountains! – that were the building blocks of his body, and increasingly more power was still ever crammed into ever fibre of his being. He could tangibly feel himself grow, and then he saw something, that looked like a liquid metal, like mercury, and shiny like a mirror, form around his body. He could feel the substance surround him and enclose him, and, when the process was finished, he felt entirely invulnerable. He felt indestructible, like a titan of yore. He was undefeatable, like Antaeus. Come hell or come high water, he would obey every order. He was the prototype of the Antaeus Protocol.

All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RMBwDf7UPA6P6UR9YNSBADC-9ObDd7aj3TdkN4uYk2Y) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, SPECTRI, RANSIS, & IREEAN IREEAN GO AWAY All comments and critiques are welcomed here and on my Google Docs(https://drive.google.com/open?id=1RMBwDf7UPA6P6UR9YNSBADC-9ObDd7aj3TdkN4uYk2Y) For other chapters, I will post them on here later. But you can find the archives on my FA and Tumblr with pics included. FA: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/ecchimultiverse/ Tumblr: http://ecchimultiverse.tumblr.com/ For first looks and more illustrations, check out my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ecchimultiverse First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter SPECIAL THANKS TO MY PATRONS: DONALD MORGAN, ANDREW L, SPECTRI, RANSIS, & IREEAN IREEAN GO AWAY Chapter 22: Two of Cups Pink cherry blossoms danced in the warm breeze, as the door to a roof access was wedged open. Sunlight illuminated the robotic figure stepping onto the simulated Japanese high school rooftop. The Soulem, cladded in a zaffre-colored fundoshi and red rectangular glasses, slowly trudged towards two muscled men hugging beneath a cherry blossom tree. Gemini coughed, “Um, hey guys.” Marvelous Man and Gene broke their embrace from each other. The musclebound superhero could feel himself blushing at being caught hugging the Totochtin prince. He wanted this intimate moment to stay private; especially from it being crashed by his soured love interest. As he and Gene looked back at Gemini, he saw the Soulem avoiding eye contact with mood rings flushed pink. “Sorry to interrupt, but the magical researchers need to talk to you,” said Gemini. The Soulem reported, “Something about upgrading your silver balls...which I’m pretty sure isn’t a sexual euphemism, but it could probably go both ways with you involved, heh.” “Yes, I can see the humor in your insinuation, Gemini. Thank you for telling me. I will take the leave.” nodded Gene. The Totochtin prince began his walk towards the simulation’s exit. As he passed by the cherry blossom tree, he stopped in his tracks. Gene turned around to face Marvelous Man. The rabbit superhero smiled, “Remember the wisdom I have imparted, Marvelous Man. You must make the effort to bandage it up. And when you are ready, I will happily partake in the fruits of the intercourse with you.” Marvelous Man could feel his body emit an extreme amount of body heat, that it felt like his own flustering was cooking him alive. He and Gemini watched the bunny demigod continue walking towards the rooftop access door. As Gene approached the door and exited through it, Gemini slowly shuffled about to face the musclebound superhero. The Soulem said nothing, while avoiding Marvelous Man’s eyes. The hulking bodybuilder did the same. “So…” hesitated Gemini, “This is awkward…” Marvelous Man replied, “Uh-huh…” The muscle demigod felt like this was his moment to say something. To make the first move in repairing their relationship. But...could not find himself to say anything. Every part of him wanted to either curl up into a ball or fly away. He then heard the Soulem speak up. “There’s...kinda a lot I want to say, but it’s actually hard to figure out where to start. Which is kinda funny...ya know, cause I got a computer mind and all. So it should be easy to figure it out...Sorry, I’m yammering,” said Gemini. He continued, “I guess I should say congratulations. After thinking it over, I’m glad you picked Gene. He’s...a lot nicer than how I’ve been. And I know he can make you happy, since he can detect emotions and all. I don’t even really know the guy, so I can’t just make off-handed assumptions about how he truly feels about you…” “Oh, no. It’s not like that,” corrected Marvelous Man. Gemini held up his hand, “Sorry, Justice. Please just let me finish. Before I lose the guts to say all this...or I might go back to being how I was,” The bulky android paused for a moment before taking in a deep breath. As he released his held breath, his shoulders sagged. Gemini then began to lightly pound his fists together; knuckles against knuckles. “...You were right. I was being a Dickasaurus Rex. I’m sorry,” admitted the Soulem. He explained, “And the more I look back on what I did with you, the more I realized how fucked up I was being. I forced my feelings on you and bullied you. And that’s not real love...and that’s not what a true friend does. Back in Sunnysville, I tried to understand your life...but I didn’t ‘get’ you. Ya know? Hell, I was being such an ass with Gene. Bet he didn’t even know what was really going on, huh?” Marvelous Man shook his head, while Gemini stared up at him. In the space of a nanosecond, a thought whispered in his mind. Was it wrong that he never said a thing to Gene about his relationship with Gemini? “No, not really,” he replied. Gemini walked towards the cherry blossom tree and laid his back against the bark. His cybernetic eyes briefly wandered up at the tree’s pink canopy before flicking back down at his hands. The gentle pounding of the bulky Soulem’s fists against each other continued. He sighed, “And then...after you called me out on my shit. It didn’t exactly click, cause all I felt was broken...inside. I ran back to my dad. Hoping to fix my pain. But all he did was try to explain love and stuff. That it’s not like those movies and books and whatnot.” The fist pounding ceased immediately. Gemini grasped his elbows as if he were hugging himself, while mood rings on his cheeks turned a deep blue. Teardrops began to form at the edge of his eyes. “And that’s when I got the call about your...disappearance. You were gone for two whole days, and...it was...I was terrified. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and whether you were alive or not. So that’s when I thought about if you never came back. I just...I’m not sure if I could handle that. Just a world without you, Justice,” said Gemini. He paused to wipe his eyes of the tears. The Soulem smiled, “And then a miracle happened! You came back. It was at that point that I realized it didn’t matter if we weren’t boyfriends. I just wanted to be with you. I-in your life, I mean. Being friends with you was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Stepping away from the tree, the robotic being gazed up into his overly-muscular friend’s eyes. The bulky Soulem’s mood rings flashed to rose red, while his face became serious. His arms shifted; one drooping down while the other held onto the relaxed elbow. “A-an-and! I know that all that stuff I did and how it hurt you...I know we can’t ever go back to being how we used to be. Things are different now, and I get that...but that doesn’t mean we can’t go back to being friends again. Maybe not on the same level, but we can still try to get close to that, right?” Marvelous Man felt stunned at what he heard. His friend’s disposition seemed to have flipped on the opposite side of the spectrum. The muscle demigod knew his friend was right...but he could not help but feel guilt at what happened. It was a mix of both feeling like he enabled his friend to have bad behavior and also hurting Gemini’s feelings. The hulking bodybuilder smiled, “Yeah, I forgive you. And I honestly do want to be friends with you again.” The Soulem’s mood rings flashed the color of sky blue. “Great! But, uh, just so you know...I’m still a work in progress. I’ll still be an asshole, but I’m trying to be better. Just call me out on it, okay? Can’t keep using my new body as an excuse for what I do,” grinned Gemini. Marvelous Man nodded, “I will. I’m just glad we could patch things up.” “But, ummm, Gene and I aren’t a couple,” he corrected. Gemini’s mood rings became grey, “Huh?” “He broke it off with me,” said Marvelous Man, “He realized he couldn’t love me the same way I loved him...it was for the better. I’m pretty sure I’m the one that’s supposed to have a broken heart, and, uh, I still kinda do. But I think he was more broken up about it than I was.” The bulky Soulem paused for a second; his face projecting dumbfoundedness. Gemini’s mood rings shifted to white, “Oh...You okay?” “I think so. He said some things that put it into, uhh, perspective. I wasn’t any better than you when it came to love,” sighed Marvelous Man. He mentioned, “Plus, I kinda went through some traumatizing shit that having a wrecked love life isn’t so bad.” The robotic being looked away. “Oh, right...the kidnapping,” recalled Gemini. Marvelous Man slowly nodded, “Yeah, that...and some stuff that happened after…” “Did you want to hug it out and cry about it?” suggested the Soulem. The musclebound superhero smiled, “Naw, I’m all cried out right now. And I think I sorta reached some state of numbness...again. If that makes sense. But...I think I could use a close friend to talk about all this heavy stuff.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “Wow...that’s some heavy shit right there,” remarked Gemini. The two friends sat at the bench beneath the blooming cherry blossom tree. Marvelous Man stared out at scenery beyond the roof’s metal fence. He sighed, “Yeah.” “But why do you call your opposite healing power a poison? I mean, you know what it means, right?” commented Gemini. The muscle demigod looked down at his friend. A part of him wanted to explode in the frustration of being questioned. Apollo had trained him in the ways of medicine and drilled into him the many facts of what is poisonous, toxic, venomous, etc...But he knew it would not do good to be so volatile at a newly repaired relationship. Marvelous Man’s eyebrow flexed in confusion, “Uh, yeah, I do.” “Just saying, it’s more of a venom than a poison, cause you’re directly inflicting it on someone,” said Gemini. Marvelous Man corrected, “That’s only when you’re injecting it into someone. Mine is more like...a secretion.” “Eh, having that dark power stab into people’s eyes to cause mental trauma sounds more like a venom. Besides, it sounds cooler,” shrugged the Soulem, “Oh! You should call it, Soul Venom!” The hulking bodybuilder giggled. He had missed moments like this. Events where he and Gemini just hung out as Justice and Gemini to talk about random things. Stupid things. Things that were childish but always had an odd depth to it. Even if it came down to talks of what color would they want grass to be. Or if the fetishism of creating a Soulem version of oneself and having sex with it is masturbation. Marvelous Man hummed, “That does sound cooler.” Seconds ticked by in silence. Neither being moved, as cherry blossom petals danced in the breeze. The mood rings on Gemini’s cheeks slowly changed to purple. “So...you have a unique celestial element, huh? And it’s supposed to help you win against the Skeleton Lord?” questioned Gemini. The muscle demigod nodded, “Yep. But it was more like I had a better chance of winning if I figured it out what it was.” “And it’s a virtue type of element, sooooo that’s gonna be harder to figure out,” noted Gemini. Marvelous Man sighed, “I guess. And it’s connected to my parents’ own celestial elements. My mom said it was a seed...whatever that means.” “So we got war, love, and...light? Or is it medicine and athletics?” said the bulky Soulem. Marvelous Man replied, “Heh. My dad just considered himself as complex. But I saw him as more of an art god when I tried to put a label on him.” Gemini’s mood rings flashed orange. “...How the hell are supposed to figure it out with such a mixed bag like that?! War isn’t even a virtue! It’s the opposite if it were trying to be in the same category somehow,” he grunted. Marvelous Man shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe if we tried to see the good side of it, it’d make more sense.” “And just what positive aspect do you see in war that isn’t connected to the profiteers of it?” said Gemini. Marvelous Man looked at the ground, “Well...maybe...I dunno...passion? Like, people only go to war to protect the ones they love and their nation. And love is, like, a chemical reaction for people to fight harder or just keep going at something regardless of difficulty. And it’s when it gets harder that a person refuses to give up.” Gemini looked at his friend with a stupefied look for a moment before staring out at the scenery. The color within his mood rings shifted back to white. “It’s so weird how you have such a unique perspective to things. It even shows in your fighting style. Well, either that or you just like being super extra...But even though what you said is a complete stretch, I wouldn’t say you’re wrong. True virtue is being able to give your own positive feedback no matter the challenge. Kindness instead of wrath and whatnot,” he replied. The Soulem continued, “So something that is connected to love, passion, and...art. Feels like it should be something super easy to figure out. But it’s like when you’ve looked over something you didn’t feel was important that when you really need it, it’s just not there. Sooooo...I dunno, soul? Since the soul can be linked to emotions and all. Seems like that’s what it is given how your powers seem to work with the venom and supercharge.” The muscle demigod thought about what his robotic friend said. It almost sounded like it had made sense...but his instincts told him that was not the answer. “Naw, it doesn’t feel like that’s what it’s supposed to be,” frowned Marvelous Man. Gemini sighed, “Well, shit.” The uncomfortable silence made its way back; filling the void of unsaid words. Marvelous Man felt he was going in a spiral that was slowly going down to an unfortunate end. Every time he tried to find a way to break from the pattern or forget about it, the feeling would always pull him back in. Ugly and numbing emotions would creep back in; never doing anything but always making themselves aware since the second encounter with the Skeleton Lord in the subway. It had been easy to immediately ignore such nasty things back then. But after his confrontation with his parents...the emotions had now started to pounce on the musclebound superhero. And with every second he was aware of them, they would gnaw at the core of his optimism. Marvelous Man needed to be rid of such things. He gambled everything on his friend. If not being about to exterminate the vermin feelings, then at least Gemini could help take some weight off of the negative emotions. His lips trembled. “Have you...ever wished you didn’t exist?...Or maybe...that people would be better off without you? Maybe even the world?” he asked. Gemini immediately glared up at the hulking bodybuilder. His face was completely flabbergasted, while his mood rings flared a bright yellow. “WHAT?! NO!,” exclaimed Gemini, “Justice, why would you say that?!...What’s-are you alright? Bro, where’s this thinking coming from?” Marvelous Man looked away, “It’s just...I don’t know...something I’ve just been thinking about for a little while...maybe even more since shit went down…I know I try to stay happy, but it’s been getting pretty hard right now. All I feel now when I’m alone and just thinking is guilt.” “ And...well...It’s cause it feels like all I’ve done so far is make everything worse for everybody else. And now...that feeling of not being able to shake off the bad stuff just keeps coming back. It’s like, it doesn’t feel fair that I’m alive when so many people are dead. Even when they’re not completely innocent or something, I’m not sure. I’m going through a lot of stuff so fast my head is just flying off and I don’t know how to feel anymore other than considering...not...existing,” he continued. Gemini placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Bro, are you feeling like that right now?” “I guess…” shrugged Marvelous Man. Gemini spoke, “Take a deep breath right now, okay? Just do it.” It was an odd request from the Soulem, but the hulking bodybuilder complied. Taking in a deep breath of air, his meaty pectorals slightly expanded. Marvelous Man’s pecs then deflated back to their normal state upon exhalation. The muscle demigod could not explain how, but it felt as if the stress he was carrying had been slightly relieved. “Now listen, it’s okay if you want to think that, but don’t ever believe in it. We can’t stop the thoughts we have and should just go through all the, ya know, processes of it. But it’s dangerous if you give thoughts like that the power to become truth, okay?” lectured Gemini. The Soulem continued, “I know a lot of crap went down. And whether you were part of it or not, it still would’ve happened. Those homeless people still would’ve died back at the subway and the crack den, but you were able to stop the Skeleton Lord from causing more harm. Hell, Gene is still alive cause of you. Oh! And those people at the park too! They would’ve bled out if you weren’t there.” Marvelous Man thought back to those events the Soulem listed. His friend was not wrong. Things could have gone a lot worse if he had not been there to heal his friends and the innocents. And now that he thought about it, if he had not been kidnapped by the PB&J Gang, the Skeleton Lord might have arranged Gene to be kidnapped instead. “I guess you’re right,” he nodded. Gemini spoke up, “Yeah, I am. I mean, you even managed to befriend Sugar Skull and bring him into the D.A.B.! Who else but you can do that? Though I think he might not be happy right now with Puzzles ‘stern talking to’ if ya catch my drift.” “And even if you weren’t Marvelous Man right now, you changed people for the better as Justice. Look at your parents. They’re...well...the stories always projected them as batshit insane gods, but you talk like they’re overbearing parents that love you too hard!” he exclaimed. The Soulem threw his hands up, “That’s a complete one-eighty if I’ve ever heard one! I know you said and did some things to them, but I’m sure they’ll come around if you give them some time.” Gemini paused for a moment; his mood rings turning pink. “And, well...I met you by chance. We became great friends, and you helped awaken me by being there for me. Maybe things didn’t turn out so well after that...but in the end, we made up...just right now though, heh…” he babbled. Gemini sighed, as his mood rings turned white. “My point is, your very existence makes all the difference and don’t you forget it. The positive things you provoke in people may be small compared to what you expected, but it all carries the same weight. Even if it’s as small as being their friend or even getting someone to try a new thing. And superhero or not, your existence inspires change in the people around you,” he said “But look, I’m no therapist, and I really think you should see someone about this. I’m currently pulling therapy articles from the internet for what you’re probably dealing with as we speak, but all I’m doing is putting a band aid on the situation.” Immediately after Gemini’s speech, the entire simulation shook with the intensity of a strong earthquake. While lasting for only two seconds, the quake was vigorous enough to upset the Soulem’s balance. Gemini fell forward, as an overly-muscular arm reached out to him. Marvelous Man leaped upward and swept his arm around his robotic friend; catching Gemini in the process. Steadying the Soulem upright, the musclebound superhero’s thoughts shifted from concern of his friend to the quake. His mind quickly pieced together that there must have been some outside force to cause such shaking. “What just happened? Was that an earthquake?” he said. Gemini held his fingers against his head, “Not sure. Give me a sec. Scrolling through social media.” The Soulem’s metallic eyebrows furrowed. His eyes seemed to look glazed over, as he streamed through data. Seconds after, he blinked his eyes back into focus. Gemini’s face expressed only horror, while the mood rings flashed to a bright yellow. “Oh my gosh...no no no nonononono…” he muttered. Reaching into the brown satchel strapped over his shoulder, Gemini pulled out a glass smartphone. He tapped on its glowing screen a few times before holding it up next to his face. The Soulem turned away from the muscle demigod; pacing back and forth in a frantic motion. He mumbled, “Come on, come on, come on! Please, oh, please pick up.” Gemini came to a sudden stop, as his face was instantly washed over with shock and then relief. “Dad! Oh my gosh. Thank goodness, you’re alright! Why aren’t you at work today?...You got the flu? Oh, thank fuck that happened...S-sorry, Dad. I-I’m just really scared right now, but at least you weren’t at work today...It’s-I’m, uh, not sure how to say this dad. There was an explosion at the Arkos Division, and it was so powerful that it just shook the D.A.B. headquarters right now...No, I’m fine…I love you too, dad...” he rambled. Marvelous Man’s eyes went wide upon hearing Gemini’s side of the conversation. He felt himself nearly reacting to what he heard, as a telepathic message interrupted him. The musclebound superhero heard his field analyst’s voice. Fairuza announced, “Gene, Marvelous Man, please report immediately to the Director’s office. If you spot Gemini on the way, please bring him. I tried contacting his phone, but it’s busy.” >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> “Seven minutes ago, an explosion occurred at the Arkos Division headquarters,” reported Puzzles, “It is not yet certain if it was an act of terrorism, but it was most definitely an attempt to distract us heroes.” “And the reasons as to why we know this is because at the same time of the explosion, our magical alarm wards placed around the Skeleton Lord’s fog had detected a spike in activity. A monster and two humanoids with undead features have been seen exiting the fog. A, uh, pardon the term, skeleton crew of drones and police officers placed there have been able to stop the intruders. Recordings of the intruders have yet to be released.,” he continued. Director Skye sighed, “We were lucky so few appeared. Any more than those three, and we definitely would have to send over some body bags.” Sugar Skull shuffled about in one of the office’s cushy seats. “What happened to the invaders?” questioned the ghoul. Puzzles pawed at his tablet, “They were immediately killed. The humanoids were armed with firearms. Once they aimed their weapons at the police, law enforcement attacked in self defense. The monster was also killed. Assumed to have been caught in the crossfire of bullets. Let’s see...no bodies were found. Upon death, the suspects had instantly disintegrated and left behind a distinct bleach odor.” Sugar Skull concluded, “Which is what the creatures of Limbo smell like. Uh, ummm...OH! Guaranteeing that the fog really is a gateway for the Skeleton Lord to exit through.” Marvelous Man felt both of his hands being grasped, as he felt nausea begin to overtake him. The surprising, tight sensation caused his queasiness to recede. Within each hand, the muscle demigod held Gene and Gemini’s hand. A warm, rubbery feeling in one clutch, and a soft hand that emitted flecks of anger underneath concern in the other. Elbows on the desk with fingers intertwined over each other, Director Skye leaned forward. He closed his eyes momentarily, as he exhaled a long, audible sigh. His eyes then flicked up at the team members; scattered about in either seats or standing in the center of the room. “Without collecting all the conclusive evidence, it’s too early to arrive at that kind of destination...Sadly, I am inclined to agree with you, Mr. Skull. I cannot ignore such a coincidence to occur soon after our earlier meeting,” said the master witch. The soft closing of a book echoed in the tension-filled office. Marvelous Man looked down to see Fairuza recently finished running a magical scan with her book. The field analyst had an apprehensive look on her face, as she shifted in her chair. Fairuza slowly raised her hand into the air, “Director Skye, sir, I’m afraid I have some more bad news. It’s about the explosion at the Arkos Division headquarters.” “...And what foreboding information have you discovered?” said the Director. Fairuza disclosed, “Multiple casualties discovered so far, and the explosion caused half of the facility to collapse. It’s unsure how many more are buried underneath the rubble. Survivor injuries has ranged all the way to critical. Medigel they have present had been greatly reduced due to the explosion and only have a handful on hand. Paramedics arriving soon.” Fairuza swallowed. She had a pensive look on her face. Her eyes gazed downwards as if she were carefully choosing her next words. “I was able to scan the area and find the login information of a security guard for their cloud’s security feed...They will no longer be needing it. Um, in any case, I’ll be accessing their cloud right now. Director Skye, where can I broadcast?” she finished. The Director’s hand began to glow blue with magic, as it casted multiple gestures at his wall-mounted paintings. What had been colored brushstrokes on the canvases were now a black screen with a runic symbol illuminating in the center. With the magical alteration complete, the master witch pointed at his modified painting with an opened palm. She gave a slight bow, “Thank you, sir.” Setting her yellow book on her lap with the front facing down, the mystical field analyst placed her index finger upon the center of the hardcover’s back. The tip of Fairuza’s finger began to softly radiate with magic. She then traced her glowing finger in a circular motion; causing the back book cover to shine a small magical seal. Fairuza then lifted the cover; revealing a square gap sliced into the page. A glint of a shiny object gleamed from the tiny chasm, as it rose up into view. The object exposed itself to be a crystal sphere made of an indigo rock that was freckled with white patches all over. The rising then stopped, as a pedestal made of paper could be seen holding the crystal ball. The crystal ball seemed to be perfectly sized for Fairuza’s palm, as she cupped her hands around it. Fairuza’s hands glowed a faint blue before the magical energy seeped into the indigo-colored sphere. The mystical field analyst stared into her crystal ball, as the enchanted painting’s image across from her flickered. With the runic symbol on the canvas completely dissolving, the login page of a website took its place. Fairuza continued gazing into her magical sphere, as the blank boxes of the login page had begun to fill with text. Everyone but Marvelous Man turned to the screen. The musclebound superhero kept switching attention from the screen back towards the mystical field analyst; confused by the interaction of magic with technology. Marvelous Man bent down to whisper at Gemini. “Ummm…” he asked, “So how is she…?” Gemini explained in a hushed tone, “There’s a computer chip in her merlinite crystal ball. And with the runes grafted inside the ball to interact with the chip, she can affect technology. But the magical capabilities of that can’t hack the government or anything. It’s more like a magical universal remote.” The mystical field analyst slowly exhaled. Her hands slightly trembled, as the skin stirred. The moving skin split open; revealing eyeballs flickering about before focusing on the orb. Marvelous Man flinched at the sight, while everyone else continued casting attention towards the painting. “NGHUH!” reeled the musclebound superhero. Gemini clarified, “She’s fine. I guess the inside of her crystal ball is laced with spells to multiply her consciousness. I wonder what it’s like to look at 4 different screens with one mind...FYI, each of her eyes are a copy of her mind. Can’t imagine what her migraine will be like after the fact.” Seconds passed before Marvelous Man managed to force his gaze away from the disturbing eyes breaching from Fairuza’s hand. Turning his stare towards the magical painting, he spotted a new update to the canvas. The screen had transformed into four different camera feed screens; each one fast-forwarding through a timeframe before skipping to another scene. Marvelous Man tried to watch, but the images moved faster than he could comprehend. Fairuza continued scrying her crystal ball in silence. After a minute had flown by the fast-paced images turned to black. The eyes on her hands then began to shut; withdrawing into her body. With the last magical eye closed, Fairuza looked up from her crystal ball. “It wasn’t an accident,” she said with a neutral tone. The Director inquired, “By whose hand?” “A man in Aztec-styled clothing. Putting him on screen,” Fairuza replied. It had been too much of a coincidence to think someone else would be running around in such a specific style. Marvelous Man kept his mouth closed; it was obvious who it would be but did not want to assume. The musclebound superhero continued watching the black canvas, as he gripped the arms of his jacket. The black painting changed its image; shaping into another recording. The camera feed showed two lab-coat workers standing in front of two glass pillar-like containers with unrecognizable technology attached to parts of it. The glass structures held two figures within; obscuring their faces by huddling down with their faces casted at the ground. As the scientists were making their rounds with checking on the computers attached to the containers, an unseen force pulled one of them back. The yanked scientist then bent himself backwards; standing on the tips of his toes as if possessed by an evil spirit. The neck’s left side of the attacked scientist then split open, as blood started to spurt from the wound like a sprinkler. The other scientist stood in motionless shock at the scene in front of her; unflinching even after being bathed in the splatters of her coworker’s blood. The male scientist was then released from the invisible grasp and landed flat on the floor. As it happened, a figment began to materialize next to the downed scientist. It started reconstituting as feet; tanned as dark as mocha. The building blocks of the visible being continued construction of the legs with the edges of a red cloak that was outlined with teal. As the materialization created a red-knotted loincloth with a teal outline, the musculature of the mysterious being appeared to be slim like a professional athletic runner. The man came armed at that time, as a bow and quiver came into visibility and slung over the shoulder. The entirety of the head and face was covered; topped with a snake-shaped wooden headdress like in the Aztec illustrations Marvelous Man had seen in world history textbooks. Sugar Skull crossed his arm, “So the watchdog has come to collect.” The video paused, as the Director looked towards the Limbo being. “You know him?” questioned Director Skye. The ghoul nodded, “That’s Itzcóatl. He’s one of the Skeleton Lord’s guardians and right hand man. He showed up at the Skeleton Lord’s newest hideout when I rescued Marvelous Man. He’s a hunter that hides in the fog like a shark.” “And to make him more annoying, he can become, ummm, invisible. The Bruja also told me his quiver is enchanted to make copies of his arrows. Haven’t fought him yet but seeing this shows he’s probably the most deadliest out of all of them,” added Sugar Skull. The rabbit demigod released his hand from Marvelous Man’s, as he turned to face the ghoul. Gene frowned, “But how did the Itzcóatl manage to invade the Arkos Division headquarters? The building should have been warded to detect the magically invisible.” As Sugar Skull opened his mouth, he was interrupted by an electronic voice. “Not if that guardian’s power is supernaturally-based rather than a mutation. They’re a superhero company based on only science. And because they’re so sure their machines can detect and quarantine magic, that they refuse our help or even do basic warding. It’s why their supernatural captives keep breaking out, and their machines are very limited at detecting the various frequencies magic has. Until it’s figured out what the base frequency of magic is, they can only detect the handful of spells or supernatural powers made public,” sighed Gemini. Puzzles spoke up, “Fairuza, continue the footage.” Everybody turned their attention back towards the magical painting, as the security recording resumed. Itzcóatl pulled out a dagger with a black blade that appeared to be made of obsidian glass. The guardian pointed his weapon at the injured scientist before switching the dagger’s attention to the female scientist and then towards the glass containers. The footage did not seem to have any audio recording capabilities, as the female scientist nodded while mouthing a reply. With shaky hands, the female scientist placed her face in front of one of the containment unit’s computers. The device appeared to be an apparatus designed for eye-scanning identification. Upon completing the process, the Arkos Division worker typed away at the keyboard. The glass container reacted to the input by melting a rectangular doorway on the side of itself. The female scientist then ran to one of the drawers lined against the wall and opened it. Pulling out what she needed, she scurried over to her bleeding partner. While the worker was applying what appeared to be a salve from a soft tube onto her partner’s wound, the prisoners within the confinements exited the two glass containers. Marvelous Man recognized first one; Zareb, the African guardian of the Skeleton Lord who commanded electricity with the twin axes. The other was a knight, who was defeated before the musclebound superhero arrived at the scene. Zareb raised his hands into the air; his hands wiggled about as if it were calling out to something. Black smoke similar to the fog ebbed from his forearms and flowed into his hands. The whisping miasma then shapeshifted into Zareb’s iconic axes. Clanging them together, the runes grafted onto the enchanted weapons glowed. Lightning emanated from the magical axes; shocking nearly everything in random arcs before striking the recording camera. The camera feed became black, as the lightning shot into its eye. “My best guess is that Zareb, the Skeleton Lord guardian with the lightning axes, caused some sort of negative reaction with his continuous voltage and...triggered an explosion. Until we know more, that’s all I can say,” reported Fairuza. The Director questioned, “And who is the knight? What exactly can he do?” “Other than wielding a glaive-type lance, I don’t know, sir. But he’s not as dangerous, if he was captured so easily,” replied Fairuza. “Not unless he wanted to be captured. Same goes with Zareb,” said the master witch, “And what about our guest?” Puzzles stated, “Gilgamesh is still on ice, Boss. Not taking chances with this one. He’s tried a couple of times to get out whenever he’s been thawed for questioning, but our wards have made sure to keep him caged. We’ve also made sure to enchant the time capsule spell he’s in with a curse to put the freeze on anybody that didn’t undo the spell properly.” “Good. With the Skeleton Lord’s muscle out of the game, it’s made things easier for us. Double down on invisibility jamming spells. I do not want that ghastly rat getting in here at all,” said Director Skye. Puzzles bowed, “Yes, Boss!” “Gene, you go to the fog entrance and be on standby. Until we get barriers up, you’ll be the first line of defense against the invading ghouls and all those Limbo monsters,” commanded the Director. Gene nodded, “I acknowledge.” “And take Sugar Skull with you. Maybe this time, he can actually benefit us,” added the master witch. Sugar Skull placed his hand over his chest, “Ah. I’m touched.” “Marvelous Man, I need you to head over to the Arkos Division and help the injured folks with your healing abilities. Use that expansive healing of yours. The supercharge one. If anybody is alive under the rubble, it could be their only life support until they’re rescued. Gemini, you go with him. See if you can dig up any information in regards to...well, anything. I suspect you and your father’s relationship with the A.D. could give you some leeway in attaining such,” ordered Director Doug. “Yes, sir,” said Marvelous Man and Gemini in unison. The musclebound superhero felt pride course through his body, as he remembered what Gemini said to him earlier. He might not be able to save everybody, but he can make a difference in saving some lives. It was time to focus on what he can do and give it his all. Director Doug leaned forward; fingers interlaced with one another. A bead of sweat began to form on the master witch’s brow. He gave a quick sigh before looking up. He declared “Mark my words, people. This is only phase 1 of what is about to come. Dismissed.” Next Chapter

Hello everyone. I'm really sorry, I've been busy the last couple of weeks and didn't really know how I wanted this story to continue. But I have an idea of where I want this story to go, don't worry. If anyone has any suggestions, then please let me know as I love hearing your ideas . Thanks again for waiting and I truly hope you enjoy! Part I Part VI Part II Part VII Part III Part VIII Part IV Part IX Part V Part X Changing my Life Part XI We explained everything to the doc. from the incident that happened at the party, to the growth that happened in the shower. The doc listened to every detail. Afterwards he told us that he was shocked to hear about Max taking all the pills. He also warned us that there was no way we could end his growth now. He wanted to see Max for himself. He made us an appointment for the next morning. After our conversation, Max and I went to bed. After the shower incident, I had no problem falling asleep. Neither did Max. That night I dreamed about Max and me, lying on the sofa in the living room. I was lying on top of Max’s thick legs. We were both looking at the television when all of a sudden, I heard him moan. I looked up to see his face. He was biting his lips and closing his eyes. Looking down, I saw his shirt tightening and I felt my head tilting higher and higher. Was he growing? I asked myself when I heard an all too familiar sound… Riiiiiiiip! His bulging pecs pushed the fabric to its limits and exploded out of them. His head was rising up and up, whilst his muscles expanded in every direction. His veins were visible again and they too grew thicker. His moaning increased and he started sweating and panting at this point. I sat up to see his beautiful growing body. I could hear the sofa creaking underneath his growing form. “I can’t take it anymore!” he said when he ripped of his tight shorts off. It didn’t take long before he started working on his growing dick. It seemed to be three times the size of my own. And I was already big down there. His balls expanded and started swelling, making room for gallons of cum to eventually erupt out of a mammoth sized dick. His head was now pushing against the ceiling and with a loud crack the sofa broke. Max’s giant arse was now digging into the floor whilst his head was breaking the ceiling. I still sat on a broken sofa, looking up at a magnificent beast. There wasn’t much I could do then to stare in awe and work on my own growing member. Somehow, I didn’t feel as scared as I used to be. It felt like this was something that I wanted to happen just as much as he did. I got my dick out and started stroking it. It was already painfully hard and leaking pre. Then I heard a loud crash in front of me. Max’s feet tore down the walls to make room for a still growing body. Max’s head eventually broke the ceiling and grew bigger and bigger! “I need some help here babe!” he said in a deeper voice in-between moans. I got up and climbed on top of his bulging legs. Finally, I was in front of the most beautiful dick in the world. I didn’t hesitate and ran up to it. My tongue was worshipping his giant meat. “Oh god, I love you so much!” he screamed looking at me. I got so horny looking at his gorgeous face mounted on to a hot bodybuilders body. He got his giant hand up flexed for me. “You like that babe?” he said whilst winking at me. I came looking at his giant biceps. My cum looked like a little drop compared to his huge drops of pre. It didn’t take long before I heard him scream one last time before a hose of cum hit the ceiling and landed on top of me. He didn’t show any sign of stopping and the floor became a white, hot pool of cum. His legs disappeared and shortly after, I found myself swimming. I looked behind me to see that his giant dick was still erupting cum. Then I was just centimetres away from the ceiling. I held my breath before the cum completely filled the room. I jumped up in bed when I awoke from my arousing dream. I first looked next to me to find Max, still at the same height as before (well you know, still the big version). I looked the opposite side to look at the window. The sun was rising. Beams of light hit my face. My phone buzzed as I saw a notification, reminding me that we had our appointment within 3 hours. I tossed my blanket and wanted to stand up only to find out that my underpants were drenched in cum. I smiled at the sight and walked across the bed, where Max was sleeping. I kneeled in front of him and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “Good morning, sunshine.” I said smiling at him. He awoke with his gorgeous smile on his face and said in his manly deep voice “Morning beautiful.” He tossed the blankets aside only to show me his wonderful body. Glistering with sweat, his bulging pecs were bigger than ever, his abs were even deeper and broader, his titanic sized arms were bigger than I remembered, veins popping up all over his body! He slowly sat up straight on the bed. The wooden frame creaking under his enormous weight. Placing his feet on the ground, I noticed just how big they were. One leg was almost as big as both of mine together (I think I mentioned that before but still)! Not to mention his big dick… it was as long as my forearm! And it wasn’t even hard yet! As he stretched his giant frame, he stood up… and up… and up. I couldn’t get my eyes off of him. He was so big and handsome. To think that this gorgeous figure was my boyfriend, MY lover, it was beyond my beliefs. Still mesmerised at his body I couldn’t speak; “I erm…. I g… got a noti…” before I could finish my sentence, he added; “Yeah I know, I heard your phone too.” Then he walked towards me and tossed his meaty arm around me and squeezed my ass before giving me the most passionate kiss. I could just feel how much more dominant he has gotten in the last couple of weeks. I don’t mind it though. The thought of him being bigger and stronger but still being so gentle and kind, turned me on so much. After the kiss he looked me in my eyes and said “Do you know how happy I am to have you in my life?” I just melted when he said it, my feet were like jelly. He grabbed me, lifted me up and carried me downstairs. I made him a very big meal, starting with 3 eggs, bacon, some sandwiches, sausages, yoghurt and a glass of milk. He ate all of it and afterwards grabbed some leftovers from the fridge. More and more I was feeling pleased with him growing. Seeing him devour so much food was so delightful to watch. When we were finished, we went back upstairs to freshen up and get dressed for our appointment. Max, however, had trouble containing his strength. He broke the doorframe when entering the bathroom, he broke his toothbrush and comb, knocked the light fixture to the ground and broke the handle from the wardrobe. It was exciting but scary at the same time. Being unaware of his strength even made him a bit frightened. In the wardrobe, I helped Max dressing up. The clothes I bought for him that were once loose enough for him, now seemed just big enough or skin-tight. His socks were stretched out and his briefs didn’t hide anything. His dickhead was poking out of them whilst his derrière ripped them off every time he sat down. His trousers were fine, the buttons were hard to close but it worked once we put on his belt. Shirts weren’t an option. The buttons flew off like his pecs were firing them right at me. So we tried just a regular T-shirt. It fitted him nicely. Finally we added some Nike shoes and his look was completed. I backed up for a second to see his entire body with his clothes on. He looked good but you could definitely see that he was no ordinary man. You could easily mistake him for an athlete or a bodybuilder. I must have been staring to long because Max said; “Is my personal shopper pleased with his choice of clothing?” I laughed and replied “You look good Max, you really do.” He walked up to me and kissed me once more. “Thanks to you babe.” I blushed and smiled at his gorgeous face. We packed our stuff and were on our way to the doc. In the car we listened to some of our favourite music. Max and I had different tastes in music. He liked listening to rock whilst I enjoyed pop music. Though we both enjoyed some Michael Jackson, Meghan Trainor and Britney Spears. Singing along was one of the things I enjoyed doing in the car. It made the trip more enjoyable. Max, however, had to put on a show. Singing ‘Hit me baby one more time’, he raised his voice to mimic Britney’s. But due to his much deeper voice, it made for a laughable performance. These were the moments I looked into his eyes and realised that, even though he’s still growing, he’s still that sweet childish boy I fell in love with. Soon we entered Mr. Petrov’s house. Not much has changed since the last time we were here. I knocked on the door and heard from the other end a familiar voice, “I’m coming!” The doc. said. He opened the front door and let us enter. When we entered, I could hear the wooden floor creaking under Max’s weight. I knew that the house was old so I was somewhat worried that Max might break something. However we didn’t spend much time in the doc.’s living area. He directed us back towards his lab. When we entered his lab, there was a chair in the middle of the room with some cables above it. I saw Max’s face. He seemed frightened and sad at the same time. I tried to comfort him by resting my hand on his massive shoulder. He looked back at me and smiled once again. we walked up close to the chair. The doc. asked him to remove his clothes except his briefs. Afterwards he Max looked at the doc. for further instructions. “Max, please take a seat.” The doc. ordered. Max did what he was told and the doc attached the wires to his body. Placing them on his head, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, back, … “What is going to happen to me?” Max asked in a sad tone. “I’ll have to take some samples and check your body in order to know what is going to happen with you Max.” The doc said in a serious tone. We exchanged looks and shortly after he asked me to go into the room behind me. I looked around to find a small door with a mirror besides it. “Max, Jake and I will be in that room over there checking your condition. You’ll feel a few shocks but don’t worry it’ll only hurt for a second okay?” the doc. said. Max nodded and looked back at me again. I walked up to him and caressed his cheek. “You’ll be fine babe, I know you will.” I said before giving him a long kiss. I was guided to the small control room where the doc closed the door and turned his head towards me. “Listen Jake, after you told me all about what had happened, I had to bring the both of you here.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “The Max that you know and love, won’t be the same after this treatment.” He said sitting down on the chair opposite the window. “Why! What is going on doc.?!” I was getting really mad and confused now. The doc. sighted and continued; “The encounter you had in the shower with Max, those will only become more aggressive and they’ll happen more frequent. It’s one of the side effects that can occur during this procedure. He would have been able to control this urge by only taking one pill. But since he took all of them, he probably won’t be able to in the future.” He said looking down at his notes. I had to sit down and think about what he just said. I was speechless and sad. Tears began to form in my eyes. “Can’t he learn to control this urge… or can’t you give him some medication to calm him down when it happens?” I started asking, trying to find a solution for his problem. “Listen Jake. He’ll only become stronger and bigger. There’s little we can do about it now.” He said starting his computer and connecting it with this machine in front of us. “Let’s check his body first.” He said. I looked in up to see that the mirror actually was window from the other side. I could see Max all wired up and anxious. I felt like I could scream. If it were true that the Max I know would turn into a beast or a lover that could kill me, was just devastating. I could hear a ding sound and looked down to see a body image on the doc’s computer. It was already recognizing Max’s body and it showed where the cables were connected. I don’t know a lot about technology but it was quite impressive to see. In the left corner of the screen, I could see his blood pressure and his heartbeat along with his weight and height. “I’m going to give him shocks on the places you see here on the screen. I’ll be able to make a rough sketch on how big Max will grow. If you don’t want to look, I understand.” The doc said looking at me. I was a bit confused as to why I didn’t want to see Max but shortly after my answer was given. The doc. selected the dot on the shoulder and it automatically gave Max a shock. I saw him scream and closing his eyes whilst his body was fighting against the pain. Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I saw my boyfriend being tortured. I wanted it to end and walked towards the door but was stopped by the doc. “You can’t leave Jake, I know that this must be killing you inside but try to understand that I only want to help you guys.” He said holding my hand really tight in order for me to stay put. I hesitated but eventually nodded and walked back to my place. However I couldn’t watch Max. It was too painful to see him in this state. After the doc. finished, the computer was loading some kind of a chart along with some percentages. I didn’t have time to find out what it said as the doc. placed the computer on his table and took out a syringe. “Is he afraid of syringes?” he asked before walking out. “A little but I’ll calm him down.” I said wiping away my tears and exiting the chamber. As I walked towards Max, it was so hard to see him. He looked exhausted. “Max are you okay?” I asked trying to hold my tears back. “Yeah, I’m okay now.” He said positioning his big frame in a more comfortable position whilst the doc. detached the wires. He looked at me and I looked back at Max. I knew what was coming next. “Okay babe, the doc has to take some blood to run some tests okay. Can you be brave for me?” I asked. I knew he was brave enough already but I also knew how much he hated syringes. He took my hand and squeezed it whilst the doc took his blood. He squeezed my hand so much I had to get down from the pain. “Ah! Max please you’re hurting me!” I screamed. Max looked shocked and released my flimsy hand. When the doc. had the sample he told us that the results would be completed once he gave the machine Max’s blood (or something like that I don’t know exactly what he said). He went back into the chamber and gave us a moment alone. Max tried standing up but he was so tired that even that was hard for him to do. So instead I sat down on top of him and hugged him. “I’m so sorry.” He said and started crying “I never should’ve taken all those pills at once.” I couldn’t hold back and started crying too. “It’s okay babe. I understand why you did it. But we have to be strong now.” I said in between sobs. Then it was silent. We were both so comfortable in each other’s arms that we didn’t need to talk. We were there for each other. That was the most important right now. The doc. returned shortly after and looked surprisingly happy. He approached us with some papers and started talking to us. Max’s body seemed to be growing steadily and would probably reach a height of four to six meters! This was a bit hard to take in. However his body also seemed to have very healthy blood cells. Every time they found a virus or an illness they eliminate them… he believed it had something to do with a self-healing process. “Max, I had my doubts but I think it’s safe to say that you are going to be fine.” He said smiling at the both of us. I never felt this happy in my life. My boyfriend would be okay! I hugged him and kissed him. We started crying again but this time they were tears of happiness. “However, I still want to warn you!” The doc. said in a more serious tone again. “You have to learn to control your strength. If you don’t, you might end up hurting the ones you love.” He said looking at me. I knew exactly what he meant but before I could say anything, Max started talking. “I will doc. I don’t want to hurt anybody. Especially not this little one.” He said playfully squeezing my ass. “Good, now I will keep in contact with you and will require a weekly check-up.” He said leading us back to the front door. I thanked him and told him we would update him on Max’s transformation this time. He thanked us and told us that if we needed anything or needed any help, we could always contact him.

Hey everyone and thanks again for all the support on the previous part. This part is a little bit shorter than the previous parts but it is the last part without any growth. In the next part the fun will begin… Part I Part II Part III Changing my Life Part IV The doc stood up and walked over to what seemed like a wooden panel mounted on the wall. He turned his back to us so we couldn't see what he was doing. “DOM!” With a loud noise, panel opened up. Max and I were kind of scared about what was to come. “Well come on in!” the doc said inviting us into the dark chamber. We slowly raised ourselves off of our chairs and approached the room. The doc turned on all the lights for us to find that this dark chamber was in fact a humongous laboratory. It was filled with a kinds of machines and screens with buttons, cabinets with bottles in all different colours and so on. He invited max to sit down on a large chair with chains and wires plugged in to it. Max sat down and the doc got a syringe out to take his blood. He gave Max a small stress ball to squeeze in and as he did, the blood was being drawn. After that he gave Max some juice and put the blood into a vile and put it in a machine. He then started asking max some questions regarding his health and physical performance but Max was healthy and in a good shape so there was nothing to clarify. “That is just fantastic.” The doc said as he pushed some buttons. We heard the machine rumble. “So what happens now?” I asked. “The machine will start making the pills based on Max’s blood. That’s all.” He said. “Are you sure you want to continue this?” I asked Max putting my hand on his shoulder and looking at him terrified. “There is no need to worry.” The doc said. He walked over to the other side of the room where another door was located. He unlocked it and asked us to come and take a look. In this room I was shocked to find a mouse, but not just a regular one, but one 10 times the size of a regular one. “This is Jerry, he is the latest test subject that I gave my latest pills. And you, my boy, will be getting the same pills as Jerry.” The doc said. The mouse was big. It had muscles all over its body even in its tale. Its paws where bigger than my hands and its head was wider than my chest. “How many pills did you gave him?” Max asked excited. “4 in total but the progress isn’t done yet. He still has a long way to go.” The doc said pointing to a small jar. The jar was filled with 6 more pills and me and Max knew exactly what they were for. “Ding” We heard from behind us. “Ah they are ready!” the doc said walking back into his laboratory. He walked over to some sort of microwave and opened the door to find a small jar filled with pills. He took the jar, closed the lid and gave them to Max. “Why do I only get 5 pills?” Max asked somewhat disappointed. “Because I didn’t know if 10 would be too much so we’ll start with 5.” The doc said. “Now I must warn you. There are some strict rules you must follow otherwise it will not work.” He said in a more serious tone. “What rules?” Max and I asked. “You must only take one, once a week, don’t ever take more as the results may be unpleasant, take them in with some water and then there is the most important part. Usually people think that they still have to work out, but that’s where their wrong. You see these pills get ‘confused’ when your body creates more proteins and growth hormones by itself.” The doc said in a dramatic tone so that it would stick in our head. “Here you might find that this is useful too.” He said ones again handing me a paper with some more information, along with the information he had just given us and his contact info. “Thanks doc!” Max said shaking the man’s hand. “Oh and if there happen to be any problems, just call me or send me an e-mail and I’ll reply as quickly as possible.” He said walking us out of the lab and into his living room. Before walking us out, he quickly said “And I’d like to see the results when they show. Send me some photo’s along with your stats so I know if it works.” We knobbed and walked out. The entire ride home Max was constantly talking about how happy he was, what might change in his life, how people might react … all the while, I was thinking about the negative things that these pills might contain. He could be dead by the end of next week. But thinking about that one mouse being that big, cooled me down a bit as it still looked normal. Only bigger and more muscular. Arriving back home Max immediately ran to the kitchen, ready to take his first pill. He poured himself a glass of water and gulped the pill down into his body. He ran back to the entrance to look into the mirror. Waiting for something to happen, but there was nothing. We both looked at each other “How is this possible? Nothing’s happening.” Max said looking at himself in the mirror. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that it just takes some time before you can see some results.” I said trying to make sense out of this situation. “Yeah you’re probably right.” Max said frowning. “Now that that’s out of the way, I wanted to ask you something.” I asked. “Okay shoot.” Max said curious. “Mr. Jones is hosting a celebration next week for his new addition and he asked me to join. So now I was wondering, would you like to come with me?” I asked. “Sure, anything for you babe.” He said grabbing me by my waist and pulling me closer to give me a kiss.

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 Chapter 18: Inside Zaftig’s Lab: The Musclemen Revealed February 10th, 2018 2020 Hours “Are we all here?” asked Zaftig. “Get on with it, man,” said Admiral Walrus testily. “We haven’t got all night.” “Of course. Dr. Irving, are the men ready? They are? Good. Then bring the subjects in.” Dr. Irving moved quickly to another set of double doors that were marked “To the Showers”. He opened the door, and a red light next to it began to signal. “Come in, gentlemen,” he called. A few moments passed. A few in the assembled ranks of waiting officers and adjutants shifted nervously from foot to foot. The sound of distant footsteps, growing closer. The Twenty entered the room in single file. Their audience gasped involuntarily. The Twenty were an awesome sight. All were dressed in tight white t-shirts with “Valhalla Labs” printed across the chest. All wore insanely tight white jeans, white socks and tightly laced black leather Army boots. The men marched across the room to the left in perfect cadence, snap-turned and faced the Officers at full attention. The sight was ungodly to behold. The men were of different nationalities and ages, and they varied in height. One or two were of average height, and one was unusually short. Three were as tall as Casey. The black man at the head of the line was the tallest and biggest of all, nearly 7’-0”. Four others were black, two Asian, the rest Latin or white. Each man was unusually handsome and clear eyed. All boasted extreme mass and astonishing muscularity. Their shoulders were broad and wide, their traps sloped down from thick necks, and their powerful chests rippled with power in their tight t-shirts. They all held their heavily sinewed arms at their sides, again with thick thumbs slightly crooked inward, as if pointing at the looming, floor-pointing bulges pouting behind the flies of their skin-tight white jeans. “Project Herculaneum reporting for inspection, Dr. Zaftig,” barked the tall black man. “Thank you, Sergeant Moster,” said Zaftig. “I think we’re all here. Private Rockland, will you step forward, please?” Sam looked down the line-up. There stood Casey in the flesh, the fifth man down. He looked over at Zaftig, and then shot a quick, questioning glance at Sergeant Moster. He seemed surprised and a touch uncertain to have been called out, looking slightly right and left at his fellow musclemen. No one else moved. He stepped forward. “Sir,” he said, quietly. “Come here, Private.” Casey started to cross the room when he caught sight of Sam, who was watching him evenly. His step never slowed, but eyes lingered a moment on Sam’s face. Sam was all attention. “Strip down for us, Casey.” “Yes, sir.” Unhesitatingly Casey stripped off his tight white Valhalla Labs t-shirt, which popped slightly and deflated with a rush of air when released from his mammoth shoulders. He turned away momentarily and bent over to unlace his boots. All were drawn to the mountainous glutes, the double pockets strained over rocks of muscle, the seam of his jeans sharply marking the likely deep butt crack beneath. Casey stood, turned back, and undid the top button of his jeans. He unzipped the looming zipper. With difficulty he pulled his pants down over his thick quads, looking up a little embarrassed at his clumsiness. “Casey has troubles undressing sometimes,” explained Zaftig with a paternal smile. “He needs clothes that vanish at the push of a button,” muttered General Needling. “Boots next, Private,” said Moster. “Yes, sir,” said Casey. Sam thrilled at the sound of his deep, resonant, mysteriously shy voice. Casey stepped out of the boots, pulled the jeans down the rest of the way, and kicked everything away. He was wearing the white Spandex poser, which fully revealed the top 6 inches of the shaft of his massive organ. His huge penis spilled forward a few inches before disappearing into the smooth synthetic mesh pouch. Now Sam could see that the fabric was translucent, and the shadows of heavy cock veins pressed outward. He wondered for a moment why Casey bothered to wear it at all, but conceded it was probably a pale gesture towards some feeble sense of modesty. Or perhaps more likely, his big baseball balls were just so damn heavy he could use the extra support. Wow, he thought to himself. “Show our guests some poses, Casey,” said Zaftig. Casey nodded, took a step away, and complied. Standing before the Officers, Casey opened his huge arms wide. He balled his hands into fists and angled them toward the group and held the pose a moment. Then he slowly stepped right, and spreading his mammoth legs wide apart, he slowly curled his arms up into a freaky double biceps pose. “Thank you. Hold that pose, please, Casey.” “Yes sir.” Casey stood motionless, his arms steady and upright, his biceps flexing mightily. He didn’t quiver. His eyes flicked back in Sam’s direction for an instant, and then he returned his gaze front. Jesus H. Christ, thought Sam. He’s flexing for me. He grinned lazily across the lab floor at Casey. Casey didn’t respond, but after a moment he pivoted ever so slightly towards Sam. He raised his square jaw just a mite. His massive biceps rippled a little, and grew even a little more, slowly gaining even more size, glowing more intensely, bulging all the more fiercely. Sam smiled. Casey turned his eyes away and resumed his gaze straight ahead, as a single creek bed of sweat appeared in the split head of the flexing left biceps, making its molasses-slow, thick journey down the front of the rocky peak. “Project Herculaneum has been entirely financed by a few private anonymous investors,” Zaftig was saying now. Sam roused himself back to attention. “No public moneys have been siphoned to create the magnificent specimen you see before you now. Casey – and indeed, all these other 19 men we have laboriously trained and developed here at Valhalla Labs – hasn’t cost the United States government so much as a thin nickel.” “I’m interested in his other dimensions,” came a comment, seemingly from nowhere. Sam looked around, wondering who would dare at this moment to refer to the obvious. The other aides froze with tension, but it wasn’t clear who spoke. “Who said that?” screamed Walrus. Two or three of the musclemen smiled a little, and one, an unusually short pretty boy, snorted. Sergeant Moster glared at them, and their smiles faded instantly. Zaftig beamed. Dr. Irving pushed his heavy glasses up his nose, and fumbled with his clipboard. Walrus turned back to Zaftig and then spluttered. “Damn it, no man should be this big! And why the hell are you showing him to us with no goddamn clothes on?” His aides twittered nervously. Emboldened by the ownerless comment, the room lit up with flashes from a few iPhone cameras. “Goddamn it!” roared Walrus, turning around. “This is supposed to be a secure meeting! Turn those damn phones off!” The phones promptly went dark. I should have made them check their phones at the door, Zaftig thought with a sardonic inner smile. He turned to his audience and smiled, all innocence. “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice bubbling with feigned surprise and ill-concealed glee. It was all going just as he had hoped – that is, except for the question of Casey’s I.Q., a subject he fully wished to stonewall for the evening. “I apologize. I didn’t consider the fact that you might be offended. I wanted to personally display Casey for you in his full magnificence.” His eyes glinted towards Dr. Shaft, who was pulling nervously at his tie. “What do you think, Dr. Shaft?” he asked. “Impressive. Most impressive,” Shaft mumbled. Zaftig took a few steps around Casey, who towered over him. “Casey, front lat spread,” he ordered quietly, and Casey’s pose shifted, his fists tucked in his sides, his pecs raising up, and his impossible lats flaring wide. He still gazed straight ahead. “Side chest.” Casey pivoted sharply left on his heel and brought his left arm up behind him. He caught the wrist of his right arm at the small of his back and cocked the heel. His triceps ballooned as his pecs expanded. His cock had quivered a little with the turn, and it slowly swayed and came to rest. “Casey’s chest measures 68 inches. Let’s see your back, Private,” Zaftig went on. Casey pivoted again, and there they were – the huge glutes, huge, hard and full. He tucked his hands into his obliques and his blew his lats to their widest expanse. Next to Sam, Tyler was fumbling a little with his fly. Sam didn’t even bother now to arrange his package. His erection thumped in his slacks, poling outward. He glanced at the other aides. Growing bulges were appearing in all their trousers. “Thank you, Casey, you can turn back now. As Casey turned around, Zaftig paced casually. “I see you all may have noticed Casey’s unusually large, well-developed organ,” Zaftig said offhandedly. “Casey, and indeed, all of the men you see here tonight have been blessed in much the same way. Do you feel blessed, Casey?” Private Rockland, surprised to be spoken to again, snapped into attention. “Sir, yes, sir,” he said, his eyes straight ahead. Zaftig turned a little and winked at the group. “And you’re blessed for what reason, Casey?” Zaftig asked. “Sir, that I have a big penis, sir,” said Casey. Holy Shit, Batman, thought Sam. Next to him he could see Tyler staring at Casey as if hypnotized. Zaftig laughed. “An unusually big penis, Private Rockland. Sergeant Moster?” he boomed suddenly. From 1st place in the line up, the Prototypes leader, the huge black super heavyweight, who had entered the room first, stood at sudden attention. “Yes, Dr. Zaftig!” he barked. “Are you blessed, too, Sergeant?” “I am even more blessed than Private Casey, Sir!” “And why is that?” “I am more blessed because both my muscles and my penis are even bigger than Private Casey’s, Sir!” “How much more blessed are you than Private Casey?” “Much more blessed, Sir!” Moster shouted. “Splendid. Thank you, Sergeant Moster. Men?” “Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison. “Are you all blessed, soldiers?” “Yes, sir! We’re all blessed, sir!” This is too much, thought Sam. I’ve died and gone to heaven. He shot a look to Walrus. The old man can’t take much more of this, he thought. “Casey, please demonstrate with a full routine of mandatory poses. Start with front double biceps.” “Yes, sir!” Casey complied, silently reeling off pose after pose. “You should all be aware, gentlemen,” Zaftig went on, “that we have remanded Casey – and all of the men, in fact - from any sexual encounters of any kind.” Behind the posing Casey, the musclemen stared straight ahead, and made no move. No one even snickered. No sex? What was that? Hunh? Sam turned and stared at Casey. He hadn’t wavered, but again he turned his eyes full on Sam. His face was blank, his look impossible to read. Was it an invitation? A threat? Or nothing at all? Sam just didn’t know. He glanced down at the impressive cock filling out the tight spandex posers, and brought his eyes back up. Casey, now in a most muscular crab pose, shot a quick look at him, and glanced down at his own package shyly. His gaze returned, quizzical, wondering. “Sexual relationships are a distraction. Because the men all have needs, as do all humans, we have organized regularly scheduled periods of masturbation. Dr. Irving and Sergeant Moster lead these sessions, under the most extremely controlled laboratory settings. The necessary psychological stimulant material for each man varies, of course. The confidential information has been determined by Dr. Irving in collaboration with Sergeant Moster, and is applied to each subject through headphones and situational simulating helmets calibrated individually. These sessions are critical, as each man has an average ejaculation proponent of the equivalent of six quarts per week.” “Okay, now I know that’s goddamn impossible,” grumbled Walrus. Sam was dazzled. The rest of the group was too stunned to speak. Sweat was now pouring down Dr. Shaft’s face. Ensign Tyler turned beet red. Two or three aides were taking frantic notes. The others just stood and stared and tried to ignore their crotches. “The men you see before you all have Casey’s extreme gifts. In different proportions, different heights, weights, and ages perhaps, and at different bodyweights. But all have the same superbly developed physiques and physical skills. Men!” he said suddenly, turning to the group. “Strip down, please.” The men seemed to hesitate. All looked to Sergeant Moster. “You heard the man,” he growled. “Kick ‘em off!” He began to unbuckle his belt. At his command, all of the men remaining the line-up began to strip. The tight t-shirts popped as if in unison as they were released from the massive upper body of each man. The boots were unlaced and pushed away. 19 belts hit the floor, and 19 pairs of skin tight white jeans followed. Beneath, all wore the same barely restraining white Spandex posers. Cocks and balls bulged forth, each man spilling half a foot of visible cock into barely sheathed pouches. Sam felt a dribble of precum shooting in his pants. “Arms behind backs!” barked Moster, clearly now the leader of the group. He turned to the audience and became one with his men. The Twenty placed their hands behind their lower backs. “Spread legs!” All spread their legs wide, shooting their right legs out in choreographed unison. In front, Casey did the same. “Prepare!” Fists clenched, crammed in solid obliques. “Front double biceps!” All arms slowly rose. And 40 cannonballs of enormous power ball biceps snapped into ungodly peaks. The men faced straight ahead, all eyes high and level, as if gazing into infinity. “Jesus,” breathed Walrus. He fumbled with his watch a moment. The lineup of 20 men stood before the small group, all flexing with massive front double biceps power. “Sergeant Moster, step forward please,” said Zaftig. “Next to Casey. The rest of you, hold the biceps pose.” The black muscle god brought his arms down strode slowly across the room. As he moved, his half-covered organ swayed heavily from side to side in his posing pouch. Behind him, the lineup of men continued to flex without wavering. He stood next to Casey, and impossibly, appeared to tower over even him. Casey didn’t glance at Moster. He stood gazing straight ahead, his arms up and steadily holding biceps pose. “You’ll note that Moster is taller than Casey. He is, in fact, far and away the biggest man here – so he has become this squadron’s de facto leader. Moster is the old man of the group – how old are you, Moster?” “44, sir!” barked Moster. He stood beside Casey, flexing. His arms looked to top 29 inches in girth. Sam reacted with some surprise. Moster appeared to be no more than 27. “I have been working with Moster for more than a decade,” said Zaftig. “He weighs 390 pounds and is 7’ tall. When he first came to me a decade ago, in 2015, he was already an Olympian. It took us years to get the poison of those primitive muscle-enhancing drugs out of his system. But the results have enabled him to realize a depth of definition and a degree of strength unachieved as of yet in any of the other men. Moster,” he asked, turning to the sergeant, “let’s all see a little demonstration of your strength.” “Yes, sir!” Without hesitation, Moster brought his arms down and walked purposefully across the room to the doors marked ‘Showers’. He grabbed a single door and quite effortlessly ripped it from his hinges. Then he turned, door tucked under his right arm, and approached the group. Everyone backed away just a little. “This is circus stunt, Zaftig,” sneered a retreating Dr. Shaft. “Any circus strongman could do this. And how do we know the door was not prepared in advance?” Moster said nothing, but walked straight to Dr. Shaft. “Good evening, Dr. Shaft,” he said, winking. “Nice to see you again.” “Er – good evening, Rod – um, Sergeant. I didn’t mean anything personal…” “I’m sure of it,” said Moster. He flexed his left biceps for Shaft and smiled. Shaft stared at it and, not quite knowing what he was doing, licked his lips nervously. Moster rotated his fist back and forth and popped the biceps head a little. Then he brought his arm down, and offered the door. “Would you like to hold this, please?” He offered the door to Shaft. Shaft tried to take it, but the weight of it was too much for him. He dropped it to the floor, barely able to hold one corner. “How heavy would you estimate this door to be?” he asked politely. The others watched, slightly stunned. The musclemen remained serene. “I…I don’t know…. 80 pounds?” “This door, with hardware, weighs 108 pounds. How thick would you say the wood to be?” Moster’s questions were politely posed. “Two inches?” “The door is actually 2-7/8s inches thick.” Moster took it back from him as if taking a feather. He held it up before him with both hands. Zaftig suppressed a smile. He knew what Moster had planned. Sergeant Rod Moster began ripping the door in two, just as if he was tearing paper. The wood roared in protest. Rrr-ii—ii-pppp! In 10 seconds he was done, each thick hand holding a splintered shard of door. In what seemed a single move, he suddenly hurled each section of the door away from him – in opposite directions. Each door half flew 20 feet across the room and slammed into the floor with echoing clatters. It was too much for Zaftig’s audience. Ensign Tyler moaned, and Sam knew the jerk had just shot a load in his pants. He wasn’t alone. A few quiet cries rose from the group. Sam held back. He always did have great control. He grinned and winked at Tyler, who at least had the class to grin back and shrug. “Shit happens,” he murmured to Sam. Sam chuckled. “Not to me,” he said. The rest of the crowd was in something like mass hysteria. “Damn it, Zaftig,” shouted Walrus. “You’ve gone too far!” “Why?” asked Zaftig calmly. “After all, it was our door.” Behind him, the 19 other men did not move, frozen, legs spread wide, holding their mighty biceps pose. Sam knew they couldn’t have helped but realize that about 10 men watching them had just cum in their pants. The men in the audience looked miserably down at the cream spreading across their uniformed trousers. Tyler glanced helplessly at Sam. And still, Sam had not cum. He had more control. He grinned at Tyler. Tyler shrugged and smiled. Oh, well, he mouthed. Admiral Walrus was not one of them, either. In fact, he had had it. “Zaftig, I want to talk with you!” he screamed. “Now!! In your office. Gentlemen, you will accompany me.” He turned to the enlisted men. “Men, wait for us outside. And,” – he couldn’t help himself - “it would seem that a couple of you babies need to go clean yourselves up. Ensign Victor! You stay here.” “Relax, Men,” said Zaftig. All brought their arms to their sides. “Men, get dressed. Sergeant Moster, take the men back to their rooms. We’re done for this evening.” The shooters in the audience were humiliated but relieved at the same time, more than half of them looking around a little sheepishly. “The rest room is down the hall,” said Dr. Irving. Eight men, Dr. Shaft among them, headed to the door. "Shaft, you're going nowhere," barked Walrus. Dr. Shaft stopped in the door and waited, shifting from foot to foot, the cream from his shriveled little cock melting into his skinny thighs. “You heard the man,” ordered Moster. “Pick it up! Let’s get moving!” The musclemen relaxed, Bent and gathered their clothes. Adjusted huge cocks in posers. Casey turned slowly and walked back to his own pile of discarded clothing. As he went, he absent-mindedly scratched the back of his head. Sam watched him go. His glutes rolled his boulders as he paddled, bow-legged, across the floor. Sam watched his mammoth, perfect butt as he went. It’s all a little confusing, isn’t it, Casey boy? Sam thought to himself. Don’t you know what just happened? Is it all a little more than you can understand, son? Casey picked up his clothes and shambled back into line with the others. He glanced again at Sam, and for the first time Sam noted that Casey was just a little bit cross-eyed. “Why, you poor dumb baby,” Sam said softly to himself. “You’re just a kid, aren’t you?” The musclemen filed out of the lab through the splintered empty doorway. Walrus grabbed Sam’s sleeve and took him aside. “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I sure as hell intend to find out,” he snarled, looking back at Zaftig, who was conferring with Dr. Irving. He turned to the Ensign. “Sam, you’re smart. I want you to slip away from the group and track down some of these guys. Start with that blond big boy. Find out his story. What the hell is he, a test tube baby? Zaftig’s lab rat? No grown man should be walking around this goddamn bunker wearing only a little white handkerchief with his fucking balls hanging out, flexing and posing for himself in the mirror.” “Yes, sir. I don’t see any mirrors, sir.” “Damn it, man, don’t take me so literally. That’s what this big bodybuilder guys do, just walk around all day long flexing their muscles for themselves in the mirror. It’s goddamn gay, that’s what it is. The military doesn’t need that –“ “Actually, sir –“ “Don’t interrupt me. Okay, it doesn’t matter if he’s gay or not, if you’re going to get all P.C. on me, but I want to know who the hell these men are and what Zaftig has them doing. These aren’t soldiers from any regular Army I know about. They’d be hopeless in the Navy.” “I believe Zaftig is also in talks with the SEALS.” “Is he now? Is he now? Fine, let it be their problem. But in the mean time I want to know what this so-called protocol is. It isn’t natural! It isn’t even human.” “They looked pretty human to me, sir.” “Project Herculaneum. My ass. Group discipline shot to hell. Go ahead, get moving. I want you to follow these men and find out something about them. Even if it isn’t taxpayer money, this facility ought to be shut down. Goddamn it!” Sam wondered for a moment why the old man was so enraged. Old man sure has a bug up his butt. Hmmm. What’s that about? He let it go for the moment, filing it away as back-story, to be continued. Zaftig approach. “Admiral Walrus. Shall we go to my office? I believe you want to discuss what you’ve just seen.” Behind him Dr. Irving was unlocking a drawer and pulling out files, checking them hurriedly. I wonder what he’s looking for, thought Sam. “You’re goddamn right I want to discuss it. Men, follow me.” Half his retinue had already left the room for the nearest men's room, to take care of cleaning up - and perhaps more business. “Goddamn it!” he swore again. He started to head back to the auditorium. "Shaft, you're coming with me!" "Yes, sir," said Dr. Shaft weakly. “Admiral Walrus?” said Zaftig with preternatural sweetness. “This way.” He started toward a far door. “My office is just through here.” He walked to the door without looking back. The others hesitated and glanced at Walrus, who stared for a moment, and then stomped after Zaftig. Drs. Shaft and Irving followed hurriedly behind. As Walrus went he turned back to Sam. “Get moving, Ensign.” “Yes, sir. With pleasure, sir.” "I mean now!" "I'm on my way, sir." And he went through the door down the long, white corridor, where only moments before, the twenty muscle giants had disappeared.

Most recent chapter: Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped Chapter 15: Casey’s First Interview with Sergeant Moster In the main building, Gunst, dressed in regulation baggies and sweatshirt, was waiting for Casey and Moster with a set of keys. As directed. “Good morning, private,” said Moster. “Good morning, sir.” “Hey,” Gunst said to Casey, a little cool. “Hi,” said Casey. Right away he was intimidated by Gunst’s size. “Got everything?” Gunst asked him. “Wha-….yeah. I got everything.” “Take him to his quarters,” said Moster. “Casey, come to my office after you’ve moved in. 3:30. I want a few minutes with you before you meet the men this afternoon. My office is over there. Red door. I’ll see you then. And don’t be late.” He strode away, without waiting for an answer. “Yes, sir,” said Casey meekly, watching him go. Gunst gave him a hard smile. “Let’s go, then. To your new home.” He turned and walked to the end of the main hall. Casey stared, hypnotized by his thick traps, his broad batwing lat spread as he strode away, and then coming back to himself, hurried to catch up. Gunst led Casey down several long corridors. They turned right, turned left, passed about 10 doors, turned right again. Casey began to worry that he was going to get lost in this huge place. Then Gunst stopped. He unlocked a door. “Welcome. Your quarters. Enter and sign in.” He held the door open for Casey, who hesitated. “No, after you.” “Okay.” Gunst went in, and Casey followed him, his heart beating wildly. His new room was a single. Though it was not the first time in his life he’d had a room to himself, this one was big, and it was all his. The ceilings must have been 12'. All the ceilings in the Home were that high. But this was different. He was speechless. There was a main living room with two deep comfortable sofas, a wall of full-length mirrors, a large posing dais with lights, a big dinner table, a desk and four deep, cushy chairs. There was an entirely serviceable open kitchen, a broad glass door to an outside enclosed private terrace, a sizeable bedroom, and big bathroom with an extra-large shower with about 100 different nozzles and spigots, and what looked like an second, somewhat squat toilet. That, he couldn’t quite figure out. “What’s that?” he asked Gunst, pointing to it. “Your bidet.” “My wha-?.....” “Cleans your butt. You’ll need it.” “I keep clean.” Casey was offended. Did they think he was an animal? “Trust me.” The bed was a super king, broad and deep, with a mirrored ceiling so he could see his muscles as he woke up in the morning. The bright terrace continued outside the bedroom with a second entrance, and was open to the sky. The rooms were filled with light, but there was no view. No one would have been able to see in. Casey was a little disappointed. He’d hoped he could see down the mountain, and maybe even the Pacific roiling in the distance. In the corner opposite the terrace door stood the 6 8’-0” 3-paneled mirrors, in front of the dais. Overhead, spotlights were aimed at the dais. In front was a brand new video camera on a tripod. Casey regarded it a moment. “Wow. A camera.” “Yeah. We all get em. Record your progress. Tape your posing.” “This is no bullshit,” Casey breathed, stunned. “No, no bullshit. They’re serious. It’s all about muscle and getting bigger. Hop on, sport,” said Gunst., indicating the dais. He switched on the overhead lights. Cool spots of filtered white-rendered LED light shone from above. Casey stepped onto the dais and gazed at himself in the center pane of the mirror. In his reflection, his t shirt clung sweatily, his superhuman muscles rippling powerfully. He was transfixed at his reflection. “Wow,” he said, whistling. “Ain’t you seen yourself before?” “Not like this.” “Well, you’re big, dude. Real big. Big and hard. Zaftig and Moster got special plans for you.” He paused a moment while Rockland raised his arms and slowly flexed a front double biceps into the mirror. Shit, thought Gunst. His arms look bigger n’ mine. Fuck. His eyes drifted down to Casey’s perfect bubble butt, covered by his grey baggies. A deep butt crack pulled the loose fabric tightly into the shadows of his ass. “Awesome glutes.” “Thanks, man.” Casey now at work, working his way through his mandatories. He glided from pose to pose with ease. Gunst half-smiled, and took a step towards the door. He’s just a kid, he thought. A superhuman huge kid made of muscle, yeah, but just a kid. “You know how to work the camera?” “No,” said Casey, admitting it, humiliated as he always was at being so dumb. Gosh, I’m dumb, he thought. “It’s easy. Come down here.” Casey stepped off the platform and moved close to Gunst. As always he was intimidated, standing next to muscle bigger than his, but he said nothing. Gunst felt the heat wafting off the kid but studiously ignored it. He showed Casey the video cam. “Switch on here. Battery will always be charged. They’ll do that for you. Open the LED screen like this.” Gunst pushed a button and the screen flipped open, a little blue wall with menu items printed. “Then push this.” He pushed another button and the red blinking light and the REC menu appeared in the window. “Awesome.” “You following this?” “Yeah.” Actually, he was. After all, this was how he was going to record his own muscle. Of course he was following. “It’s aimed and focused to the dais and set for the proper lights. Switch off the room lights when you use it for best res.” “Okay.” “Got it?” “Yeah.” Gunst doubted it. “Okay, man, I’m gonna split now. You settle in. Be in the gym and ready to work at 1600 hours.” “Okay.” Casey studied the camera and then thoughtfully stepped back on the dais without switching it on. “That’s 4 PM.” “Okay.” “It’s noon. You got four hours before training and three and a half before you meet Sergeant Moster for debriefing in his office. Remember where his office is?" "Yeah." He didn't. Gunst smirked a little. "Go out the door, turn left, head to the main corridor, turn left again. Walk to the bulletin board past the cafeteria entrance. Turn right. Red door." "Okay." Casey was looking at himself in the mirrors. He wanted to pose some more. He thoughtfully flexed a powerful forearm, inspecting cables of veins. Gunst gave up. After all, it was his ass. "Eat and get some rest. Check out your refrigerator. They prepared some meals for you. Have a couple of steaks and a few chickens.” “Okay,” said Casey, already dreamily posing for himself. He hit another double bi. He was headed back to his distant mountain on his private planet. Gunst watched Casey as he hypnotically posed. Damn, the kid looked good. Casey slipped out of his shirt and threw it on the floor and hit a crab shot. Gunst, impressed in spite of himself, shook his head, and headed for the door. “Don’t wear yourself out, dude. Four hours. Three and a half, really.” “Okay.” "Take a shower. You stink." "Okay." Gunst started out. “Can I ask you a question?” Casey asked shyly, stopping his posing a moment. “What?” “How much you weigh?” Gunst smiled, hard faced. “375,” he said. “Shit, man.” “Yeah. You?” “310.” “So I’m bigger.” “Yeah,” said Casey. Gunst turned to go. “For now,” Casey added. Gunst looked back at him and grunted noncommittally. He left the room, closing the door, leaving Casey alone to ponder the wonders of his own physique. “Damn,” he breathed quietly to himself. That dude is huge. But then again, Casey hadn’t entirely realized that he looked this good. Good, yes. But not THIS good. As Gunst walked back up the corridor to his own room he felt a sudden impulse to run off to the gym again and spend the next hour doing punishing curls. For now?? The little asswipe actually had the balls to say this to him? But he knew it was true. It was just for now. This kid could surpass everyone. Including Moster. P21 may have been a miracle drug, but muscle recovery was still necessary, and as it was Gunst had spent a good hour just the night before curling hundreds of pounds. But damn. That kid’s biceps were sick. Sick. Unreal. He had to get his bigger. Bigger, harder, more vascular. He had to dwarf the kid’s arms when, on some inevitable future date when Moster lined them up next to each other barked out FRONT DOUBLE BICEPS to both of them, Gunst could raise his arms to the almighty skies and curl up a walloping huge double bi’s that would force the musclepuppy Casey into a shameful corner. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Casey was just too big, too hard, too perfect – and only 18. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Gunst went to his room and stretched out on his bed, suddenly depressed. A few minutes later he got up and ate six chicken breasts. And then lay down again, resting, willing his arms to recover, to get bigger. Shit. Damn. Fuck. After about 10 minutes of posing, Casey, innocent of the turmoil he was already causing in the quad, felt both hungry and thirsty. He stepped off the platform, gave a last look at himself in the mirror, and did a side chest. Pop. Pow. Yeah. He wandered into his kitchenette. A surprisingly good-sized, double door industrial grade refrigerator (stainless steel, reflecting, naturally, so he could see himself) was center in the wall. He opened it up and was surprised to see three 5-gallon water bottles, shelves of Tupperware containers filled with cooked, cold bloody rare steaks and cooked chicken breasts, some prepared salads and tuna salad. He grabbed a whole steak and gobbled it in three bites, then drank a full quart of water. He opened the vegetable drawer. Unlike other young bodybuilders - stupid assholes - who turned their noses up at vegetables, at anything 'green', Casey craved fresh veggies. The drawer was full, he happily noted. He fished around and found some tomatoes and fresh celery stalks. He popped four whole tomatoes - "Vitamin C!" as Miles would have said - and began gnawing on a stalk. He closed the door and gazed thoughtfully at his reflection in the stainless steel. Miles. He really missed him. He hadn't seen him now for - what? - a year? More? Miles would be so proud of him. Maybe he could get out some time, go to Raw Weight, see Miles, and maybe pose a little with him? He sure hoped so. And....maybe something more, too. He belched softly and headed back into the main room to start unpacking. He raised an arm, sniffed at an armpit. Yeah, he did stink. A shower would come next. A knock came at the door. He answered it, the gallon water bottle still in his hand. It was Private Lang. He was dressed in an-all black skin-tight bicycling suit and was carrying a helmet. He dripped with sweat. “Hey,” said Casey, eyeing Lang evenly. He too was handsome, and he too had a heavy sagging cock bulge in front. Casey guessed they all wore clothing to show themselves off to their best advantage. But why did they all look like male models? Even Gunst, big and broad and homely, looked like he belonged in a magazine. Or on the movie screen. Or on TV. “Hey. Welcome. Listen, haven’t got much time. Moster will be here in a second. Want to warn you about something.” Casey was annoyed and awed for a moment by Lang’s two-day scruff and perfect hair. Damn. Fucking good looking dude. Shit, now what? What did he just say? Something else he had to worry about? “Come on in.” The heavily muscled Lang gazed briefly up and down at the shirtless Casey, lingered his gaze a moment on his bulging crotch, considered a moment, but then said, “No, thanks. Another time. Believe me.” “Sergeant Moster’s not coming. Come on in.” “No. Another time.” “Okay. So what’s up?” “You gotta watch out for Tiffany.” “Don’t I know it.” Lang fumbled in his fanny pack and pulled out a small pill bottle. He handed Casey a white capsule. “Something else, too. Take this before the workout.” Casey played dumb. “What is it? Drugs?” “Naw. Well, yeah. I guess. We all take ‘em. They’re not toxic and they’re not hallucinogens, but it’ll make you feel stronger and more confident, and they free up your…..well, natural inhibitions.” “Haven’t got any.” “Bullshit. You’re scared as hell, even Hension can see it. Hell, if I can see it, then, dude, you’re scared.” “I’m not fucking scared.” “Anxious, then. Nervous. Anyway, you should be.” “Why should I take this? What is this, anyway? You guys all trying to punk me?” “No! Trust me, dude. Take it. By the time the workout is under way you’ll be ready for anything. What do you normally single-arm curl?” “170 pounds.” “Take one and you’ll curl 220. Single arm.” Fuck! Casey grabbed for it, popped it down his mouth, and took a chug of water. Then he grinned. “Thanks! Sure you don’t want to come in a moment? We could pose together.” “Yeah…..I would…..but later. Gotta go.” He looked nervously down the corridor and scooted away. Casey closed the door. He unpacked some muscle magazines, his new jockstraps and do-rag, his iPod and laptop, and started to set up his new video camera on a tripod. He liked to record his posing practices, and with the dais and the mirrors and the new lighting he was already excited. He dropped to the floor and reeled off a fast150 push-ups. He needed to jerk off soon, but was interrupted by another knock at the door. This time it was Waring. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower, his hair slicked back, his clothes tight and plastered against big muscles. “Whassup, dude?” he asked. “Welcome.” He extended a calloused hand. Casey leaned against the door and crossed giant arms. Another handsome dude. He didn’t shake. He blew out air, looked at him levelly, and just waited. Shit. After all, all these dudes had shot their cum all over him just 12 hours ago. Didn’t they remember? It was kinda weird they all seemed to have either forgotten, or just didn’t care. Or maybe they did it all the time to each other? Whatever. He was here to get big. There was a long pause. “Okay, I guess you’re just settling in and not ready to receive guests. I got something for you anyway. House-warming gift.” He held out a fist, opened it, revealing a capsule. Casey looked it and gazed at him, not taking the bait. “Don’t you want to know what it’s for?” “Lemme guess. My inhibitions? Give me a boost? I can curl 3,000 pounds? Protect me from Tiffany? Make me millions?” “Okay, who was here before me?” “I don’t remember his name. Good-looking guy with black hair. You’re ALL good-looking guys with black hair.” “Some are blond, some ginger, some bald. How old?” “Old. I don’t know. 27?” “Mustache?” “No.” “Bicycle clothes?” “Yeah.” “Lang.” Waring looked around. “Did he give you one already? Did you take it?” “Yes, and yes.” “Good.” He held out the capsule. “Keep it. Take it anyway. I took two once,” he added, and smiled to remember a particularly hot ‘Pose and Approve’ session with both Alvarez and Lang, after which, unfortunately, he was not invited to return. Not yet, anyway. “Sure you don’t want to come in?” Casey gestured ironically, but he wouldn’t have minded. A little double-posing practice would be a good workout. But once again, all he got was the once-over. Waring paused a little and grinned, his face turning pink, but shook his head. “No, I gotta run. Bye.” And he loped off down the corridor. Casey closed the door. Whatever. All these dudes were weird, muscle or no. He took the second White Caps, flexed a few more minutes in front of the mirror, waited for something to happen. Nothing. Suddenly he was tired, so he decided to grab a nap. He went to his room, kicked off his boots, tore off his sweatpants and jock, and sprawled naked onto the huge bed. He was instantly asleep, dreaming vaguely of his muscle planet. When he woke up, the light in the room had changed, but he didn’t notice it. All he could think of was his dick, hugely and almost painfully hard. He was ready to go, now. The caps? Maybe. He masturbated on his bed, formally initiating himself to his room. He watched his reflection in the ceiling mirror as he pumped his big shaft. Within 30 seconds he came, his cum spurting high and splashing the glass of the mirrored ceiling and plopping down onto the sheets, staining them deeply with pools of cum. “Shit,” he said. He got up went into the bathroom and closed the door. He shat heavily and pissed about 2 gallons with heavy ropes of piss splashing into the toilet. He stared suspiciously at the bidet, and then at the shower. There were the seemingly dozens of jets and spigots and controls, but after a few minutes of carefully testing, he got it to work. He showered for about 10 minutes, washing himself off carefully, loving the jets of steaming hot water that hit every angle of his physique. He stepped out and grabbed a huge towel off the rack. It was warm to the touch, as if it had just been taken out of the drier. Damn, it felt good. He draped it around himself and went back into his room. His sheets had been changed. The ceiling mirror was clean. Fuck. Who the hell had been in here while he was in the shower??? And his workout clothes were laid out on the bed. Oh well. Guess he had invisible maids, too. He changed, and went to the kitchenette to get a bite of chicken and another jug of water. On the counter there was a note: I let myself in. Hope u don’t mind. Take this pill. It will help. C U later in the gym. --- Hension Next to the note was another capsule. What the hell? He took it. He looked at his watch. 3:40 PM. “Shit! Shit!” he shouted. Late again! He tumbled into his sweatshirt, and ran off to meet Moster in his office. ******** 15 minutes later, Casey stood at attention in front of Sergeant Moster’s desk. “Well, Cadet,” said Moster. “Late again. Very late. At ease. Let’s talk awhile. Have a seat.” He gestured to a flat bench used for bench presses. Casey dutifully lowered his bulk onto the bench and leaned forward anxiously, resting his elbows on his thighs. Sweat rolled down his torso. He wiped his eyes and stared ahead of him. He wasn’t going to get punished for being so late? He had run all the way from his quarters to the office and got lost six times. He finally had to ask some Puerto Rican kitchen kid – oh, yeah, the kid who was there last night, sucking all the musclemen’s cocks while he wrestled Abdul – where the hell Moster’s office was. The kid had stared at him hungrily but Casey wasn’t about to get into it. “Down there,” he’d pointed, and Casey ran off. This time he found it. He saw none of the other men. Moster came out from around the desk and approached, looking him over. “Rockland – I mean Casey … - I’m going to get right to it. You show great potential. Big muscles, lots of strength, good flexibility, tall, young, still growing.” “And I got good bones. You and Dr….” He paused. He couldn’t recall the dude’s name. “Dr. Zaftig.” “Yeah, Dr. Zaftig, you both said so last night.” Didn’t Moster remember last night either? Fer crissakes. “Yes, and good bones, yes.” He stood in front of Casey. “Do you have questions?” Casey looked up at the Sergeant plaintively. About a million of them, actually. But he said nothing, and shook his head. His eyes roamed up and down his CO’s massive physique. Moster’s shiny black biceps exploded out of his white t-shirt, with veins thick as snakes, lining the peaks and networks of pumping blood vessels criss-crossing his forearms. His hands, resting lightly on his hips, were enormous, with thick fingers, white, trimmed fingernails and long, powerful thumbs. His neck was impossibly huge, and his traps sloped powerfully into massive deltoids. His lats flared out almost horizontally. Casey had never seen so much muscle. And in his pants, his package drooped casually from his fly down along his right thigh in his uniform trousers. The massive bulge extended nearly to his knee. Casey gulped and licked his lips a little. He could see the mountain of cockhead corona and make out the deep piss slit, even through the thick fabric. Moster’s gaze never left his eyes. “Well, Casey?” “Sergeant Moster, what is this place really about? Why are we here?” “You’ve been on campus two years. You should know. We’re Valhalla Labs.” “Yeah, I know that. But what is it? Really is it?” “Valhalla Labs is a unique training facility. Here we build and train the finest specimens of men on earth.” “But just bodybuilders.” Moster looked down into Casey’s eyes, slightly startled. “Yes, just bodybuilders,” he confirmed. “There are other kinds of men who get built. Gymnasts. Swimmers. Football players.” “Yes.” “So why just bodybuilders?” Moster paused a moment. “Son,” he said, pacing, “don’t you want to be here?” Casey fell all over himself replying. “Oh, yes, sir, I do want to be here, sir, and nowhere else!” “So….is there a problem?” “No, sir, no problem AT ALL. But….why are we here?” And he still didn’t ask, pointedly, about the wrestling and the cum job and all the craziness from the night before. Moster paused again, and spoke in a measured tone. “The Nineteen – and now, with you, The Twenty – are potentially the finest specimens of male musculature on the planet. Most bodybuilders, power lifters, weight lifters, look mighty impressive, but, you know, they have all sorts of internal problems. Bad hearts. Very bad livers and kidneys. Bad skin. Small testicles. High cholesterol. Bad blood pressure. Boils, scars. They smell bad. No endurance. And…..too often….they have very tiny cocks.” Casey had to admit it was true. “But not here. Here we build men who will last. When you, son, reach your 50th birthday, you’ll look much the way you do now. When you reach 70, God willing, you’ll look like a man of 40. Do you know how old I am?” Casey paused a moment. “28?” he ventured. “I’m 48. 49 next month.” “No shit.” “No shit. Let’s see your biceps, son. Remove your sweatshirt.” Casey complied and meekly flexed his guns. He smiled hopefully. “Are they okay?” he asked nervously, flexing, looking from arm to arm, glancing hopefully at the dancing triple peaks of each biceps. “You know they’re better than just ‘okay’. Or you should know. Good God, you’re still reticent?” “Re- ti – what?” “Still shy? Don’t you feel strong, son? Don’t you feel huge and powerful?” “Not next to you, sir.” Moster was touched in spite of himself. “Stand up, son,” he directed, peeling off his shirt and heading over to a broad expanse of mirror. “Come over here and join me.” He bent and began to unlace his boots. Casey got up and trotted over to join Moster at the mirror. Instinct told him it might not be a good idea to tell him just at present that he had recently taken three white caps. So far he hadn’t felt anything unusual. But then, he’d had a long nap, too. Maybe you weren’t supposed to take white caps and then immediately go to sleep. “Kick off those shorts. Your jock, too. Strip down.” Casey did as he was told, pulling his jock down shyly. Moster unbuckled his belt, peeled down his trousers, kicked off his boots and rose, ripping off his t-shirt. His massive muscles bloomed with gigantic power. He was wearing a powerfully knit bright red posing suit underneath his trousers that magnificently displayed his bulging tool. “All our posing suits are privately made. Otherwise, they won’t fit. See?” First he grabbed the side straps and pulled up. The pouch loomed magnificently, full of Moster’s massive penis and balls. He moved from side to side, showing the strength of the suit. “Actually there’s some steel mesh in there. You get used to it.” Then he pulled down the poser from the side straps and, one foot at a time, stepped out of it. His cannon firehose flopped out and down heavily and loudly slapped his quads. “Face the mirror, Cadet,” said Moster. Casey obeyed and turned, and together the two musclemen stood naked in front of the mirror. Wow. Casey knew he had never seen – no, nor imagined – bigger muscles, nor a bigger engine like the one Sergeant Rod Moster was sporting between the walls of each diamond-shaped quad. He stared at it, slack jawed, his mouth dangling open, amazed. From the beautiful muscle jewel-setting that was Moster’s lower rectus abdominus to the ridge of shrink-wrapped muscle from which plunged the massive, thick shaft, Moster’s massive, huge, perfect monster penis was a thing of beauty. A few moments passed, and Casey finally spoke. “You have a very big dick, sir. Begging your pardon.” “Yes, quite the tool, isn’t it?” Moster said expansively, waggling it from side to side. “It might even be the biggest in the world. Anyway, no recorded penis has been found to be bigger.” He looked down appraisingly at Casey’s organ, “Yours appears to be almost as big, I see.” “No, not, really, sir.” “Oh, yes, I think it is. Close, anyway. Let’s see you wave it back and forth. Like this.” He began to whip his penis noisily from side to side. It slapped loudly on his quads. “Go ahead. I know you can do it. I saw you do it for the boys in your room this morning.” Casey was mortified, remembering. “Try it, cadet.” “Okay.” He waved it back and forth timidly. “No, throw some energy into it. Be a man!” Moster continued to slap his cock against his quads. Casey gulped and began to whip his engine a little faster, a little harder…..and suddenly he was surprised to hear slaps as loud as Moster’s coming from his own extremities as his ample cock made contact with his muscular quads. Moster reached down and grabbed Casey’s member in a powerful fist and began to squeeze. Casey was stunned. “Sir!” “Relax, Private. I know you’re a grower. I want a demonstration.” He began to powerfully stroke the penis, and in his grip Casey immediately became erect. “Very nice indeed. 12 inches? More?” “I’m not sure….” “Zaftig sure knows how to find them.” Casey was getting dizzy. A heavy glob of precum appeared from the piss slit, ran over Moster’s fist and dripped onto the floor. “Nice,” said Moster. “Good boy. Have you masturbated yet today?” Casey was mortified. He took a step back and his thick penis popped from Moster’s enveloping fist. Moster let it go. “Yes…..” “How many times?” “Just once.” “Right.” He walked back to his desk, his penis waggling mightily as he walked, and hit a key on his laptop, which dinged. He read a message, looked up and smiled. He returned. “Yes, I see that you did, about 25 minutes ago.” “Wha-a-a-a-a- t?!!?” “The cleaning report came in.” Cleaning report?? Christ, the sheets. They file this stuff? “Are you guys spying on me?” “We’re going to monitor your activity, yes. We do this for all the men.” “Do they know?” “Yes, of course they know. Many of them relish it. The men like to be on cam. Is this going to be a problem for you?” Casey decided to change the subject. “Sir, it embarrasses me. I have to jerk off about 5 or 6 times a day.” “Seems that you’re off schedule then, if you have only masturbated once so far.” “Well, it’s been a weird day.” “Don’t let me stop you.” “I’m not gonna do it now!!!” Casey was getting more and more mortified. What was all this, anyway?? “No, of course not. You still have the societal blockers in place that prevent that. So do the men, actually, in my presence. They wouldn’t do it either while in this office. Of course, at meal times, in the gym, on the track outside, wherever or whenever they feel they have to, they whip out their dicks and go for it. You saw that last night, actually.” Finally. “Last night was really, really weird,” said Casey. “You’ll get used to it.” “I will?” “Yes, and with talent like yours, the men will be very eager for you to start joining them in priapic exercises.” Hunh? “You’ll find out. In time. Meanwhile, you should be very proud. Your penis is one of the finest specimens I have ever seen. And I have seen thousands of the best of the best. Yours is….well…..it rivals mine.” Shit, thought Casey. Really? Sudden he got a little coy. “Gee, and I have always been ashamed of my big dick.” “Really. Why?” “I can’t….hide -… it….” Casey colored deep red and looked down at himself. There it was, looming out from his body, huge and solid. “And why would you want to hide it?” “You hide yours!” Casey blurted. “Or you try to.” “That’s different. I’m in command. And the men all know now about my superior tool. If I showed it all the time, it would lead to all kinds of problems.” Moster bent and pulled up his posers and trousers, carefully wrapping his giant engine securely in the folds of pants fabric. He squatted slightly, reached into the waistband of his slacks, and positioned the shaft so that it lay, lazy and secure, against his right quad. Then he went back to his desk. “Get dressed now. But hang on.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small vial, then walked back to him and leaned in quietly. He spoke low into Casey’s ear, and raised his palm surreptitiously. In his hand was a single white capsule. “Take it,” he said. Not again. He was already feeling – well, not high, exactly, but close. He was dubious – after all, he had already taken three – but what the hell. He pretended innocence, and he made his face appear anxious. “What is it? Drugs? I’ve never done drugs.” “This is pure P21. The drug of choice. Take it.” “Will I be okay?” he asked, wanting to trust him. I hope so, Casey thought. I took three of those little suckers. “You’ll be fine,” assured Moster, and he meant it. “Frankly, yes. It is a drug. It will not hurt you - but it will do something to your perception of yourself. Take it. Now.” “Okay.” Casey nodded dumbly and bolted it down. Inside he was elated, excited, wondering if this new mystery supplement was a new kind of steroid, able to produce great surges of strength and growth. Then he looked up hopefully at Moster, now sitting back at his desk, easy in his chair, his legs wide before him, open to the world. “Meet us in the rec room after your shower for post workout eval.” “Yes, sir,” said Casey. Inadvertently his gaze lowered to the Sergeant’s lap. He stared at the bulge. Wow, he thought again. Damn. “Good. Now get to the gym and get started. Some of the men will be there. You have some serious lifting to do. I’ll join you presently.” He pushed an intercom button. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes?” came the voice on the squawk box. “Get the camera ready and head to the big gym. You'll find everything you need in the locker room. Dr. Irving is there ahead of you. He'll set you up. Get moving now.” “Yes, Sergeant Moster.” "And don't dawdle." He checked his watch. "You're already 20 minutes late. The men were expecting you at 16:00 hours. They don't like to be kept waiting." "Are they all there?" "By now, yes." "They gonna jerk off all over me again?" Moster smiled. "No, not tonight. Frankly, you have them all a little too worried about themselves to pull anything like that again so soon. Besides...." Casey waited for it. "Besides what?" Moster smiled. "Nothing. We talk again after your workout tonight. Then dinner and then bed for you. Get going now." Click click click. Moster was typing. Casey stood still, uncertain. Moster looked up. “I said get going, Casey.” Casey nodded, dumbly wordless. Gee, he types fast, he thought. He pulled on his sweatshirt and scampered out the door. After a moment he was back. “Sergeant Moster?” he asked, shy and frightened. “Yes, Cadet Rockland?” “…um..….which way IS the gym….?” Moster had to smile in spite of himself. He pushed back from the desk and rose. “Okay. We'll go together.” He approached Casey, looked him over with brief approbation, and nodded to himself. This kid was something else. Just what he had been waiting for. Just right for his plans. Just right for the big picture. The picture Zaftig wasn't aware of. Yes, everything was going smoothly. He headed on down the corridor. Casey followed him, submissively scampering a few steps behind. It was going to be his first workout as one of The Twenty. He felt both scared and powerful. And just a little pissed off, as the White Cap began to work on him. Those dudes weren't gonna jerk off on him again, any time soon. He'd see to that. He knew what he had to do. Okay. Time to go train. ********** Want to reread "The Twenty" from the beginning? Click here for "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Precis, Introduction, and Chapters 1 & 2

Part 1 Jack had been living with his Uncle Roy ever since his parents died in a car crash 2 years ago. Uncle Roy was Jack's only living relative that was still in the area. All of his cousins and relatives had moved away from the small town of Bulger, PA. There were only 400 residents in the in the area of Bulger as most had moved away from the once bustling mining town, to nearby Pittsburgh. The mine was gone and all that was left were farms, most of which had falling into poverty since the land had turned sour due to the mining. Uncle Roy had been living alone on the family farm since his parents died 20 years ago. He never married, but dated a few women here and there, but they always left to better and brighter futures. Time had not only taken it's toll on the farm, but on Roy as well. He was now 62 years old and his health was failing to the point that he could hardly work on the farm. This past harvest season had been especially bad for Roy since there had been somewhat of a drought and combined with the hostile ground, his crops were the worst they had been in over 30 years. Both Roy and Jack were barely getting food on the table. Jack had taken on a job as a custodian at the local off site branch of Slippery Rock College that was in town. His initial plan had been to work to get enough money to go to learn at the main campus which was an hour north, but since the issues with his Uncle's farm he was only able to get enough to keep them afloat. Then tragedy struck. One night, the branch where he worked had an explosion and burnt down to the ground with Jack and a few others still inside. Luckily, Jack wasn't hurt, but his one and only friend where he worked, Dr. Jason Braun, who worked in the lab as a Naturopathic Physician, had barely gotten out alive. He had been burnt over 60% of his body and was in intensive care at UPMC Mercy Burn Center in Pittsburgh. Roy was incredibly thankful that Jack had made it out without a scratch, but Roy and Dr. Braun had been school mates growing up and were very close. The two of them were inseparable as youths and as adults, their bond was as close as two heterosexual men could have been without being lovers. Roy was devastated when he heard the news about Jason and even though they barely had money to put food on the table, Roy suggested that they take a ride to UPMC Mercy Burn Center in Pittsburgh to visit their friend. They could leave in the morning and be back the same day so they wouldn't have to leave the animals on the farm for too long. Once they arrived at UPMC they waited for almost 8 hours before being told that they could not see their friend that day. Both men felt destroyed as they began to leave the center to drive the hour back to the farm. Before they got to off the floor, one of the nurses stopped Jack and asked if he could talk to him in private. Roy seemed a little annoyed that the nurse didn't want to talk to them both, but he told Jack it was okay. The nurse, a man named Glen, took Jack into a empty patient room and told him that Dr. Braun had come too, but he didn't want any visitors at the moment. He said that he had had heard that Roy and Jack were there and to find Jack to let him know that he would be okay. Dr. Braun then told Glen to go into his briefcase and take out a brown bag to give to Jack. He said that it was something he had made in the hopes that it would help Jack and his Uncle's crop situation. Then Glen reached into his pocket and brought out a small brown burlap sack. Jack opened that sack to see inside that there were about 30 small black marble-like seeds in it. Glen explained that Dr. Braun didn't explain much about the seeds other than Jack needed to go home and put them in a jar of boiling water and steep 3 tea bags until they evaporated and then pour that immediately into the fertilizer for their crops. Glen also said that Dr. Braun told him that under no circumstances was anyone to ingest the liquid. Jack thanked Glen and he rejoined his Uncle who was now waiting in the truck to go home. "What was that all about?" Uncle Roy asked "Nothing really. I guess Dr. Braun wanted me to have a bag of seeds that he had been working on in the hopes to help our crops." "Wow, even in the face of death, Jason is thinking about us. I really love that man." "What?" "You know what I mean. He really cares about both of us. Well, I don't care if we don't have the money or not, I think we should come back to see him, when he is ready for some visitors. Whattya think?' "I think that's a given, sir. Dr. Braun and you are the only family I got and yes, I think of him as not just a friend. He's family." "Good boy!! I've always thought you had a good head on your shoulders. You're gonna go far, son." It was night by the time Roy and Jack had gotten back to the farm and as soon as they set foot in the house, both men went immediately to bed. The next morning, when Jack got up he grabbed the sack of seeds and went into the kitchen to put on the boiling water. Uncle Roy was still fast asleep in bed. Jack thought that the hardships of yesterday had taken their toll on his Uncle so he let him sleep. While the water boiled, Jack decided to make breakfast as well. He made some eggs and bacon with toast, enough for the both of them. The water on the stove started to boil so Jack took the seeds and put them into an empty glass mason Jar that they had for canning. As soon as the hot water hit the beans they began to bubble and the water turned a dark brown. Jack figured that it would probably be awhile before the seeds evaporated so he closed up the jar and set it on the kitchen counter. Then he went to make some coffee, but it looked as though they were out. Knowing how much Uncle Roy loved his morning coffee, Jack decided to walk over to the neighbor’s house, almost a half a mile away and ask if he could burrow some just enough for his Uncle. Mrs. Apow was the sweetest neighbor and she gave Jack her whole can of Maxwell House that she had left. She said she was going to the store and asked if Jack needed anything else. He politely told her no, but thought, that he would love a nice juicy burger. Once back at the house, Jack walked into the kitchen to find Uncle Roy sitting at the kitchen table eating the breakfast that he had prepared. Uncle Roy thanked Jack for letting him sleep in and for breakfast but he wanted to talk to him about something that had been on his brain for a long time now. Jack walked over to the counter and put the coffee canister down. He asked his uncle how much coffee he would like and Roy said, that he didn't need any more coffee, that he had had enough and that maybe they should stick to using the coffee maker instead of doing it on the stove next time. Jack's eye's opened wide as he looked over to where he had set down the Seed mixture and it was gone. Horrified he turned around to see his Uncle downing the last drop of Seed mixture from the Mason jar down his throat. "Oh Shit. That’s not coffee Uncle Roy....that's the seed mixture for our crops from Jason!!" "What?!?!" "That's the seed mixture that Dr. Braun gave me for the crops. It was supposed to go onto the fertilizer and help our crops to grow." "Well, dammit, why didn't you tell me? It tasted like coffee, but BAD coffee." Roy started to feel a little dizzy. "Maybe I should go lie down, just in case." Uncle Roy got up from the table and went up to his bedroom to lie down. Jack grabbed his uncle by the arm and shoulder and helped him to his bed. His Uncle seemed so heavy and stiff as he assisted him to his room. Then once he got Roy safely into bed, he told his Uncle, "I'm gonna call the doctor and see if they can pump your stomach or do something!" “Okay, but hurry, son, I’m feeling really warm all over and…and…and my skin hurts!!!” Jack ran back downstairs and called the doctor’s office, but it was a Wednesday and they weren’t open until noon. “FUCK!!” he blurted out. He thought for a moment and since there was no one else to call other than the hospitals in Pittsburgh, he figured he would call the one person who might know what to do. Jack ran over to his coat pocket and fished out the number of the Burn Center that Dr. Braun was at. He dialed. “Hello, I…I …need the room for a Dr….er…Jason Braun. Please hurry, it’s an emergency!” “I’m sorry, sir, but Dr. Braun is not able to receive phone calls at this time. Who am I speaking too and I will get a message to his room to see if someone can speak to you on his behalf?” “It’s Jack…Jack Pilar. I worked with Dr. Braun. He knows who I am. Please tell him that my uncle drank the seed mixture and I don’t know what to do.” “Alright sir, just one moment and….” Suddenly, Jack heard his uncle scream and then there was a large crash followed by the sound of an explosion that shook the house. He dropped the phone and raced upstairs, tripping on his way up. Once he got to Roy’s room, he stopped dead in the doorway. His uncle was gone. All that was left was a bunch of torn clothing and a bed that had broken in half long ways down the middle. The window to Uncle Roy’s room was broken out along with a good chunk of the wall around it. Jack ran to the huge new opening in the home and he saw an enormous muscular figure darting into the barn. My enormous growls and screams came from within and then he could hear a low deep moaning followed by loud, wet splashing noises like a fire house hitting the insides of the barn. A few seconds later he noticed a white liquid start to seep out from in between the cracks of wood in various places on the side of the barn. Then it was all quiet again for a few moments. Jack stood there, completely dumbfounded and bewildered. He thought to himself, that the huge figure looked like his uncle from the back, but it couldn’t have been him. It just couldn't have been. Still, the figure was such an impressive site that Jack felt a longing in it. His thoughts changed from horror to honor. Suddenly, a whiff of something extremely pungent, musky and very pleasurable entered Jack’s nose and without even thinking another thought, he became consumed with intense desire and an arousal that caused his cock to go instantly hard which took him immediately to the point of orgasm. So much so, that he had to back up against the desk in Roy’s room as his cock shot uncontrollably hard with numerous waves of ejection and the orgasm must have lasted at least half a minute. He came and came, completely soaking the inside of his shorts and pants. It was one of the most erotic and pleasurable orgasms he had ever encountered. As well, during the orgasm, visions of the huge figure he had just witnessed took over his mind. An incredible longing and complete desire for the giant hulk consumed Jack for the duration of his orgasm and then when it was over, Jack regained his mind and himself. Jack steadied himself and walked dazed back down to the kitchen. He went over to the phone he had dropped and put it to his ear. He could hear a lot of commotion in the background with crashing noises, screams and silence. Then as he continued to listen, there was the sound of various men in the throes of ecstasy, just about the same as he had just experienced upstairs. He listened intently as his cock started to get hard. Passion again, built up inside of him. Jack had never thought himself gay, but what he had just experienced and the lust that he was now feeling just from hearing men in a sexual realm, made him wonder. Just then his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. “Hello?” “Jack…Jack is that you?” The voice on the other end was extremely low with so much bass in it that it sent shivers of excitement through him, causing his cock to twitch even harder. “Yea…Yes…it’s me. Who’s this? “It’s Jason…Dr. Braun. I need you to get out of the house right now. The nurse told me what happened with Roy and for you own safety, get out of there now and get in your truck and come see me…IMMEDIATELY!! Also, stay on the phone with me. I need you to do exactly as I say. Do not look back and do not make contact with your uncle. He’s changed and he’s dangerous. He won’t want to hurt you, but he will nonetheless. Get out of there, NOW!!” "I'm coming, Jason!" Jack dropped the receiver of the other phone, keeping the cellphone to his ear and ran toward the door. “Okay…Okay…Jason. SIR, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, SIR!” Jack knew he had to leave, but he was torn. He longed to get to Jason, but he didn't want to leave his uncle either. Confusion, remorse and excitement were all running through him on top of a growing yearning and arousal that was getting harder and harder to avoid. He ran outside and once inside the truck he turned the key and when the truck started there was a loud crash in the barn. Jack jumped in his seat and yelled out, “FUCK!!” “What’s Wrong, Jack? What’s going on?” Jason yelled over the phone. “I think my uncles in the barn and I...I....think he’s HUGE. He seems to be tearing up the barn from the inside and he…OH SHIT!!” Jack dropped the phone as he hit a pothole and it went outside the window, smashing on the road below as he heard another huge crash from behind him. He was again, alone with no help. He looked in the rear view mirror as he was driving away and saw the barn doors had smashed open as his uncle crashed through them. His uncle, or what used to be his uncle, stood outside of the barn, naked and enormous. He could see from the thickened face that it was his uncle and Jack was mesmerized as he put on the brakes to stop the truck and marvel at this new being he had helped to create. Uncle Roy's cock was fully hard and dripping large drops of his cum onto the ground below, creating a puddle of a translucent thick liquid. Given the size of the barn, Jack could tell that his uncle must have been at least over 15 feet tall and almost 8 feet wide and full of muscle. His cock was well over a foot long but he wasn’t sure. He watched, transfixed in his rear-view mirror as his uncle began to grow about 2 feet taller and pack on more muscle and cock. The being that was there, enticed Jack and since he had experience the orgasm up in Roy’s room, he wasn’t afraid of his uncle, he was actually drawn to him. Without even realizing it, he sat in his seat watching his uncle grow and he had opened up his pants and he was stroking his cock. The intense longing and desire began to build once again. Then he saw his uncle smile as he began to cum in huge amounts that shot out of his cock for yards and yards, denting in the earth in front of him and the surrounding trees. One of the blasts hit one of the small tractors and tipped it onto its side. He could hear his uncle roar in ecstasy as his sprayed the land. Since Jack was about 200 feet away, he didn’t know that another wave of his uncle’s aroma was fast approaching him yet again. The moment he began to smell the familiar smell that caused him such euphoria before almost took over his mind, but with Jack’s last shred of himself, he came back to reality and he threw the truck back into drive and tore out back on the road. As he drove away, he noticed that his uncle was screaming at him as he ran off into the fields. He didn’t look back again and an hour later, Jack arrived at the Burn Center. When he walked into the hospital everything seemed normal, but when the elevator doors opened at the wing where Jason had been, he noticed that there didn’t seem to be anyone around. The floor was completely in a wreck and it was eerily quiet. Then, as before, there seemed to be a faint but pungent smell coming from down the hall. The door closed behind him and Jack’s cock twitched. PART 2 COMING SOON (Please let me know what you think so far!)

In chapter three, I take a closer look at one of the former minor characters. As usual, I hope that you will tolerate my unintentional linguistic errors. Chapter One is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/ Chapter Two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6609-project-defender-–-chapter-two/ DISCLAIMER This story do contain an element of internalised homophobia, at least in the beginning. If you are offended by this, please read no further. Project Defender - Chapter 3 He always wanted to be huge. But he wasn’t. Kowalski had grown up in a small municipality just outside Warsaw. He had been bullied in primary school, but when he entered secondary school he joined a gym, and although his results were modest, his newfound muscles kept the bullies away. His parents – especially his mother – were devout Catholics, and he joined them, when they attended Mass on Sundays. He felt like having two minds when it came to physical exercise. On the one hand, it felt amazing in the end of each training session, when his body released all those relaxing substances, and blood pumped into all his newly trained muscles, causing him to feel hard in a very good way. On the other hand, he felt uncomfortable that he often became horny after workout. He had tried to mention it to his vicar during confession once, but Father Wójcik had reacted in horror: ’You are having dirty thoughts, young man. Do you hear: Dirty! The only normal thing to feel aroused by is your future wife. I hope you will find a suitable girl sometime during Technikum. Now avoid to think dirty thoughts again. I absolve you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’ He hadn’t dared to mention the topic again. During his studies at Technikum, he had to go by bus to Warsaw each day, and he joined a bigger and more well-equipped gym inside Warsaw. He must have been eighteen when he found out that one of the adult guys at the gym was a British Jesuit, teaching in the capacity of Guest Professor in astrophysics at the university for a time. Father O’Kelly seemed to enjoy exercise himself, although he mainly used the treadmill and the step-up-machine, so Kowalski dared to take up his embarrassing worries. O’Kelly laughed somewhat, and had a much more relaxed view on Kowalski’s perceived problem: ’Listen, son. Now and then in the history of the Church, a few people have – mistakenly – believed that the human body is something bad. It isn’t. Evil is only able to harm things. Evil is not able to create and nurture life. Some saints were wrong about some issues, and a few of them were anorectics or neurotics. We do good if we try to do the same sort of good deeds those saints achieved, but we ought not to follow their mistaken personal opinions or quirks. The human body is an amazing thing: Our brain and our hands cooperate in a way that made engineering and art possible. The human body functions the way God intended – perhaps not perfectly, since we have a free will, but the basic processes are there, because it is for the best. St. Paul writes that the human body is a temple for the Holy Spirit. That isn’t something bad or evil, is it? Men like you try to make their temple as fitting and embellished as possible, and there is nothing wrong with that, at least if you don’t become obsessive about it, and forget the needs of persons around you. Excessive vanity would make the life complicated for you, but in the right amount it is just confidence, and confidence is good to have. Human sexuality is a strong feeling, that sometimes blur peoples judgment. Those consequences of a blurred judgment are sometimes evil, but not sexuality itself. God created it. I would advice you to exercise more, not less, since exercise helps to diminish exaggerated arousal, but I would also advice you to thank God for your ability to feel good. In the future you will probably find a cute girl. If sex had been something intrinsically bad, matrimony wouldn’t have been regarded a sacrament, would it?’ After his discussion with Father O’Kelly, Kowalski felt much better. He continued to work out at the gym, and achieved a lean and very hard physique, but he wasn’t able to become big and burly the way professional bodybuilders looked. During Technikum, some of the girls had found the combination of his short stature, ripped physique and cream coloured downy hair irresistible, and he had snogged a number of young women, but nothing serious. Since his early childhood, his favourite saint was St. Michael the archangel. The church his mother attended had several smaller adjacent altars, and his favourite one was dedicated to St. Michael. A broad shouldered statue of St. Michael was there, his enormous wings outstretched protectively, and his big chest decked with chainmail, a sword in his muscular arm, trampling the devil underfoot. It was an icon of masculine heroism, and Kowalski wanted to be a hero. To protect people, and defend them. When he graduated from Technikum, he first applied to the fire brigade, but his application was rejected since he didn’t fulfill the regulated minimum height. He then applied to the Armed Forces of the Republic of Poland, and was accepted. He scored very high on endurance tests, and he managed to lift heavier backpacks than men his own size usually did. He was very good at diving. He was extremely good at parachute jumps, but one part of his test results differed significantly from the rest: He scored low when it came to the ability to lift really heavy equipment, and he felt frustrated over this. Now and then, he shyly asked himself if he possibly could be gay. The Church’s position on the issue was clear, and that made him uncomfortable: He liked attending Mass now and then, and he appreciated to slip into an almost empty cathedral in the middle of the afternoon, experiencing the soothing silence and stillness. The Army officially maintained a non-discriminatory policy when it came to sexual orientation, and had always did, but the personal opinions among some of the senior officers and some of the other squaddies was another thing. As far as he knew, no-one had suspected anything. He knew that he often became horny when he read magazines about bodybuilding or watched action films with muscular heroes, but he wasn’t sure if that was a desire for the men themselves, or if it was rather a lust for becoming just as huge and ripped as them, excelling in masculinity. Gays are not masculine, are they? When TV news reported about Gay Pride parades in Warsaw, he didn’t feel anything for the men who walked by on the television screen: Trannies trying to look like women. Soft and wimpy men with rainbow pennants, some of them with glitter on their faces. They looked happy. He wished them luck with their everyday lives, but he didn’t feel attracted to them in any way. They seemed uninteresting. He had nothing in common to them. So he couldn’t be gay, could he? He had nothing against gays, as long as they didn’t hit on him. The Army became like a second home for him. He liked being challenged to achieve feats beyond his former limits. A couple of years went by. Then the Space Attack occurred. His family was evacuated from the Warsaw area to the countryside. He was sent to the Pan-European Military Research Facility, since he had been deemed suitable for experimentation. He had felt excited when he became aware of the purpose of The Program. De Vries had been a pain in the ass, but most of the international guys had been pleasant enough to work with. Among the scientists he felt most comfortable with the Norwegian one they called ’Viking Guy’, who had been friendly and polite. Coach was so well-trained, that he made Kowalski feel small in comparison, and there was something with the tiny Englishman, Smith, that made Kowalski feel awkward. He didn’t know what. He missed Soares. They had met the first day at the Facility, in the gym, and found a common bond in how much they liked workout and their disappointment with being hardgainers. Soares had a good sense of humour. Under cheering sounds from the other squaddies, they had sometimes wrestled at the living quarters, pitting each other’s strengths against each other. They had shared stories about their home countries and their worries for their families. Soares was also Catholic, so Kowalski had given him his St. Michael pendant as a gift of brotherhood. Soares had a good heart and kind eyes the colour of hazel nuts. And now he was comatose, because of an experiment gone wrong. Kowalski had sat beside Soares sick bed at Infirmary every evening since the accident happened. He felt angry at the scientists, but he also felt a bad conscience for his anger, since Viking Guy had told him that they worked on a treatment. He couldn’t sleep. He clothed himself, and tied his boots. The Infirmary lay in darkness, with the exception of a single lamp at the desk. To his surprise, neither Johansson’s nor Soares’ bed were there. After the initial surprise, he found Fischer, the night working nurse, tied to a chair. ’The recruits! They wheeled the patients away to the Lab.’ As soon he had freed Fischer from the chair, Kowalski jogged to the Lab, walking silently in suspicions the last distance. He peeked carefully into the Lab. Jones was there: He was a funny one, with a good sense of humour, at least when Kowalski could manage to understand his dialect. And Varga! Varga had behaved as an elder brother to Kowalski and Soares. Why had they of all persons disobeyed orders? If they actually had disobeyed orders. Weren’t they programmed to behave as perfect soldiers now? And who was the tall and muscular uniformed man typing at a screen? No! It couldn’t be… Doctor Smith? It’s impossible! He was so tiny, bespectacled and plump yesterday. This is like magic. He’s even bigger than Varga. And Boffin! And Viking Guy! And… O saint Mary in heaven: Coach was humongous now! What were they doing? Kowalski noticed the movable sickbeds. Empty. And the Chambers were activated. It dawned to him that Soares and Johansson were inside the Chambers, so it seemed that they tried to cure them from their comatose states. Cautiously, he stepped inside the lab. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED][AND RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Cpl. Soares Weight: 56 kilo grammes Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Height: 168 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Chest: 91 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Waist: 70 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Arm: 34 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Thighs: 56 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] ’Brain activity detected and intensifying.’ ’Pulse, breathing and temperature stable.’ Soares had grown inside the chamber. Muscles bulged and protruded from him. He was far from the size of the men in the Lab, but it was obvious that he was still growing in the golden shimmer. ’Kowalski? What are you doing here?’ Viking Guy had noticed his presence. The other large men looked in his direction. He felt uncomfortable. ’I was worried for Soares. Why did you tie Fischer?’ ’Did you tie Fischer, Jones? Why?’ ’Ah dinna thought mooch abuht ed. Ah wanted ’im to be outovva way. The Program kicked in.’ ’But why in the world would Fischer want to hinder us from curing the patients? Although it is in the middle of the night? Which is – ahem – unconventional.’ A short and confused discussion took place, but the safety for the patients soon redirected the focus of all present to the Chambers and the persons therein. Fischer peeked inside the room, but, although some of the men probably noticed him with their enhanced military senses, they all focused on the patients. Since Fischer didn’t have any patients to guard any longer, he sat down on a stool. ’Good to have you here, Kowalski.’, Doctor Green said. ’I know that you have sat beside Soares’ bed several nights. He knows you well. You are friends. He would listen to you.’ ’Yes?’, Kowalski asked. ’There is no damage to his brain. Whatever may have damaged himself before is perfectly healed by Morphogenetic Fields by now. I suspect that a psychological factor would help him to awake, under the condition that he remain in the Field during awakening. Human contact. You were scheduled for The Procedure the day after tomorrow, I believe. Would it disappoint you very much, if we rescheduled your treatment till tonight, instead?’ ’You mean. To become like you? Now?’ ’I understand that it comes of a sudden, but I really think that Soares would benefit from you talking to him, while you both go through The Program together.’ It came so suddenly. Kowalski felt confused. ’He is very close to awakening, but something delays it, and I believe there is a human factor to this. Your voice and your presence would hopefully lead him back to consciousness, but since that would expose you to The Program, you need to go through it all, with nano-inhalation, nutrition-IV and everything.’ Although it was buzz cut, Kowalski felt the hair on the back of his skull raise. He felt a pleasant shiver at his back. A lump emerged in his throat, and his mouth became dry. He silently observed the absurdly titanic men in the Lab – even the scientists looked like imaginary super-soldiers by now. He watched the growing Soares and Johansson in the Chambers. He should join their ranks tonight already. Everything felt unreal, like it was one of his silly teenage fantasies coming true. Absentmindedly, he answered: ’Yes. Of course I accept a reschedule. I want to help Soares. And it is – ehrm – actually quite exciting.’ He blushed somewhat, and untied his boots. The T-shirt fell on the bench. The trousers as well. Socks. Pants. It still felt unreal when Green applied the IV and the neuro-helmet. ’May I have a glass of water before I enter?’ Varga handed over a large plastic mug filled with drinking water. Kowalski devoured it. Green tied the breathing mask over Kowalski’s face. ’There is a microphone in the mask. If you feel strange, you may tell us. Most of the guys who have went through this Process have felt very well. Thank you for helping us to awaken Soares, and good luck inside.’ [CONNECTING] [ACCESSING DATA] [AWAITING SPECIMEN] Cpl. Kowalski Weight: 57 kilo grammes Height: 169 centimetres Chest: 91 centimetres Waist: 69 centimetres Arm: [AWAITING DATA] Thighs: [AWAITING DATA] CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED BY 2 SPECIMEN][AND RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL] [CONCOMITANTLY TO] [PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL][MULTI-THREADING] When the inner sluice opened, his entire body was struck by a violent wave. It caused all his bodily consciousness to tingle and buzz, in a way that was impossible to describe. He stepped inside the chamber, and the feeling became more intense. For a while it shut out all his other impressions. He tumbled into an intense vision of golden flashes and flares, in which his physical body ceased to exist. In its place he consisted entirely by raw, primordial power. Buzzing. Crackling. Emitting bolts. Devouring bolts. A voice which was not his own was saying something inside his mind. He didn’t actually hear it, since it was in his mind. He couldn’t hear clearly: It was not audible. It was more like a thought – an implanted thought. The intensity of the implanted thought increased: Do you accept The Program? He was rather strong minded. He couldn’t be forced to accept. Do you accept The Program? But it was because of The Program he was here. This reminded him of something a drill officer had said during basic training: ’I will break you down, in order to rebuild you!’. This was something similar. Do you accept The Program? Far, far away, he was vaguely aware that his physical body was involuntarily mumbling and grunting random words, but he didn’t pay attention to it: He was deeply immersed in his inner experience of integration into The Program. Do you accept The Program? He would become like the unbelievably huge titans outside the chamber. He shivered unintentionally in delight. Do you accept the Program? And he was here to help Soares. But what would happen if he tried to refuse The Program? You will accept The Program Fear arose. His instincts told him, that, if he accepted, he would no longer be entirely the same. From a certain point, he would no longer be himself. The instincts of fear became stronger. You will accept The Program You will accept The Program Damn it! It was his duty to endure this process, in order to help mankind. It was his duty to become… Becoming Defender Yes. To defend his fellow men against the invasion, and to defend his brothers-in-arms in danger. Becoming Protector Yes. To protect the weak and innocent… You will accept The Program Yes. To become a part of the same Program as the other optimised lads. United. Together as the first generation space marines. United… in… the… same… Program. You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will ac ’SIR! YES, SIR!’ CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED BY 2 SPECIMEN][AND RUNNING NEURO-REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] [CONCOMITANTLY TO] [PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL][MULTI-THREADING] A small part of him knew, that the experience he re-lived wasn’t his own, but borrowed from someone else, like the one just before, and the one just before, but it felt so real, and it felt so much a part of his own experience… It was like he had been through this for years, by now: Years of painstaking exercise to perfect his ability to… …triumph in close combat… …swiftly and effectively handle weapons of innumerable types… …make tactical decisions… …defuse explosives… …hack into computer technology… It went on and on. He re-lived the lives of countless experts in their fields, and all were implanted and coalesced in him. Becoming consummate individual unit His confidence exploded and went off the scale. Nothing would ever make him feel awkward or uncomfortable any longer. Neuro-Reprogramming Protocol aim achieved Neuro-Reprogramming Protocol accomplished Closing according to Program Running: Physical Reprogramming Protocol [undivided] … [both specimen] [according to same matrix] Enhancing He was awake. He was present in a cylinder with another man. O, yes! The Chamber. The Process. Soares. His friend Soares. It felt good to be close to Soares. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED BY 2 SPECIMEN][AND RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL][iNTENSIFYING] The fluid around him was crackling with power discharges, and it caused his entire body to tingle in an incredible way. The power was crackling around Soares too, and he had grown amazingly big and well-defined, still pulsating of growth. Now, the same power surged through Kowalski, making him grunt with uncontrollable pleasure. An ugly sound of bones breaking and reforging was transmitted through the fluid. Kowalski was dimly aware of pain, and for a while his consciousness drifted away into darkness. When he awoke, he felt different and elongated in a strange way. The power emissions buzzed: in the fluid, on the surface of his skin, and through the essence of his entire body. He concentrated, and managed to speak. ’Soares. Wake up. It’s me, Kowalski. Please, Soares.’ And Soares opened his eyes. ’Kowalski? Oh. It feels… Mmmm.’ ’You are awake!’ ’So they continued to… Mmmm. …physical phase anyhow? Oh, this is good… Uh!’ Soares shivered in delight. He contracted his arms and tensed his abs. His dick awoke. Soares shivered again, and closed his eyelids again. His grunts revealed that he hadn’t drifted back to unconsciousness. Kowalski was so relieved that Soares had awakened, that he let his dogged determination go. His awareness tumbled into the flashing, buzzing, bubbling experience of bodily change, of transformation. The irresistible power surge… The Field… The radiation… He felt himself pack on meat in an incredible speed. His back broadened, became more massive, and his shoulders too, filling out, full, round, meaty powerful globes of human flesh. There was nothing he could do to stop it, but why would he want to do that? He was programmed to do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. To enhance himself. To augment himself. And Soares. His legs felt like they were able to support incredible amounts, tree trunks widening, pillars of uncrushable steel, voluptuously huge calves. It was like pump, but intensified, and instead of just feeling like they grew, his muscles actually became larger, harder, more defined. His traps and pecs contracted in a deliriously delightful way, while they swelled up into uncrushable ridges and mounds, and he revelled in the feeling of his hyper-charged biceps and triceps, and of the vein covered steel cords, which once had been his forearms. His abs and iliac furrow burnt intensely while they became more and more well-defined, but the feeling gradually changed into the same buzzing and brimming feeling of power which filled the rest of his body. His firm gluteus had filled out into diamond hard orbs. [ACCESSING] [sPECIMEN DATA] Cpl. Kowalski Weight: 220 kilo grammes [AND INCREASING] Height: 215 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Chest: 228 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Waist: 114 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Arm: 100 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Thighs: 120 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Cpl. Soares Weight: 220 kilo grammes [AND INCREASING] Height: 215 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Chest: 228 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Waist: 114 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Arm: 100 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Thighs: 120 centimetres [AND INCREASING] [iNTENSIFYING] [according to same matrix] He didn’t become what he had ever dreamed of: He became something beyond the limits of his wildest imagination, and he diverted himself in the mindless roar of anabolic ecstasy. When he closed his eyes he heard the rushing sound of his pulse and of his blood stream transporting growth enhancing substances to every fibre of his pleasantly convulsing body. He grew in a way beyond what he could comprehend. He was a living battery, charged with the power current from a high voltage line. The power of vitality itself filled him limitlessly. Nuclear bombs exploded inside his body and inside his mind. The ineffable powerblaze stormed in every atom. He brimmed of unlimited and unconquerable might. Suddenly, he could feel Soares' hand on his left pec. It felt good. Soares’ hand had grown in size, but so had Kowalski’s pecs. Soares’ grip had increased, and a man of softer build would have been crushed by this, but Kowalski was no ordinary man. His pec resisted steel-hard the squeeze of Soares'. It felt good. Actually, it did feel amazing, since the empowering current of force, which made him grow, now streamed through him with redoubled intensity. It was like the power current streamed through him twice, and he could hear from Soares’ roar that the effect worked in both directions. He grabbed Soares’ incredible pulsating shoulders with both of his hands. His touch gave Soares a start, and for a couple of seconds Soares upper body went rigid. Then he relaxed – as far as the convulsing and pulsating state his muscles found themselves in could be called relaxed. Soares let his right hand move to Kowalski’s left bum, and the left hand soon followed. The hypertrophic power current now streamed through them again, again and again, in a heightened state of intensity. The Chamber bubbled of liquid. Thunderbolts of morphogenetic power struck their inner cores. The breathing masks hindered them from kissing each other, but both opened their eyes. Staring deeply into each others eyes, Kowalski’s ice blue eyes into Soares’ hazelnut brown ones, they could see how the heightened energy state began to affect their tissue. Golden power sparks arose in Soares’ eyes, and Kowalski could feel a strange, but pleasant, buzz arise in his own eyes. Then their eyes became interconnected to each other by two sparkling power currents of golden fire. Something happened at their groins, and the pulsating steel rods between their legs suddenly became interconnected by a similar crackling power current. Their muscular fibres became more and more unyielding. Their bodies became ever more covered in uncrushable brawn. They shook in pleasure. When Kowalski thought it couldn’t become better, more pleasurable, more ecstatic, the feeling intensified further. They both became monstrously titanic behemoths of ultra-masculine perfection. They roared. They raged. They bellowed, and hugged each other in steel hard embraces, but when the transformation process of The Program reached its climactic optimum, they both fell into velvet black unconsciousness. When Kowalski awoke, he found himself lying in a hospital bed at the Infirmary. Soares was lying in another one, and, since he was reading an e-book, any suspicions about a relapse into coma were dispelled. Two weeks ago, they had been the smallest of the recruits at the Facility. Now they both looked enormous. The story continues in https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7121-project-defender-chapter-four/

This chapter will be very, very dark, since it does explore the mind of Cpl. De Vries, who is a well-known nuisance from earlier chapters. Chapter One is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/ Chapter Two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6609-project-defender-–-chapter-two/ Chapter Three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7120-project-defender-chapter-three/ DISCLAIMER The following story do contain heavy amounts of racial slur, homophobia, several forms of prejudice and mental images of violence. Please do not read this if you are offended by anything of the aforementioned. The author do not condone any of the opinions or values the character expresses. Project Defender - Chapter 4 De Vries sat on his bed, already awake, although it was several hours until reveille. When he had looked at himself in the mirror before the experiment, he had seen an Aryan, just as his dad used to say. When he had looked at himself in the mirror after the experiment, he had seen a perfect Aryan. He was big now. And strong. He cupped his left pec with his right hand. But he was surrounded by idiots. Idiots that held him back. There was a war raging out there, and the idiots went on about safety concerns, correct procedure, democracy, scientific method and other civilian bullshit he wasn’t interested in. He wanted to smash space squid. But first he wanted to have his revenge on the idiots. And the midgets. And the monkey boy. And Major Murphy. And the disgusting little fag. No-one should stand in his way. He had made his decision. He rose and walked through the empty corridors to the Lab. It was dark, but a LED helped him find the switch. The air in the room was strangely humid and warm, like the machines had been used several hours later than usual and not cooling down the way they normally did in night time, but he didn’t think more about it. The screens were turned on, but the screen savers were activated. Idiots. Under other conditions, this could have caused a security breech. Do they know nothing about computers? But now, this would make his revenge easier: Just what boffins leaving their computers on deserve. He watched the screens, and pushed some of the keys, first curious, then excited. They had held him back on purpose, the sanctimonious nerds. They could have pumped him full of a much larger dose of that what-it-was-called, and they could have increased those golden rays and things much more. He remembered the intense pleasure the Field and the Rays had given him, when he had bathed in that otherworldly non-burning golden fire. The hair on his forearms and his back-hair tingled pleasantly and he felt how he became hard. Yes, he had liked it, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more of it, and he wanted to be bigger than anyone else in the project. He stared at the screen. Once a test subject had absorbed the nano-bots, it was obviously possible to reprogram them further by IV, if the subject underwent a repeated treatment. He didn’t need a new dose of nano-bots, just air and an IV. He had found the display of the two anatomical charts and found the log about his present enhanced physique. He copied the green chart of his present build, and made it into a new blue chart: the starting-point for something even more amazing. He could feel how his engorged dick pulsated against the inside of his shining black, leathery uniform trousers. The engineer who designed these trousers must have been another fucking damned fag, but he had to admit that they were very comfortable, and they actually made him look aggro when he saw himself in the mirror, so it wasn’t exactly a catastrophe. He concentrated on the screen again. Ah! It was possible to click on the sketch in green lines, in order to mark which muscle to design. And then these boxes and numbers… His back-hair tingled again and he salivated. He could design exactly how he wanted to look! Every man want insane biceps. And an even bigger chest sounds good. And traps. He clicked on a number of different muscles, and changed the numbers in the boxes. A cartoonish figure drawn in green lines began to form. The ridiculously broad-shouldered man in the sketch was built something like the comics character The Hulk, but with a much more exaggerated physique. Another man, and probably all women, would have considered the sketch ugly and monstrous, but De Vries stared on it longingly: With muscles like that, no-one would be able to stop him. He wasn’t a science guy, but 1000% level of Hypertrophic Radiation sounded good - yeah: really good - and a target level of 1000 milli-sheldrake sounded like it matched the other figure. He had chosen the alternative ’auto-procedure’, so no-one else was needed to oversee the process. This amazing machine would follow his wishes and demands, and make him into what he wanted. He pressed enter. Modified settings not available under present symmetry protocol ’Deactivate symmetry protocol.’ Are you sure you want to deactivate symmetry protocol? What the bloody hell? ’Affirmative.’ Symmetry protocol deactivated That was a relief. The computer behaved just like the idiots, but it was possible to subdue it to do one’s will. Enter. Modified settings not available under present functionality protocol Rage was rising from the inside of his mind. Crawling. Erupting. ’Deactivate functionality protocol.’ Are you sure you want to deactivate functionality protocol? ’Affirmative.’ Functionality protocol deactivated It isn’t possible to reason with computers. Just give it what it wants. Enter. Modified settings not available under present safety protocol ’Deactivate safety protocol.’ Are you sure you want to deactivate safety protocol? ’Who the hell designed this bloody damn interface – Microsoft?’ Negative … The Program was designed by [Dr. Gruber] by the help from [Cyberdyne Systems] and [umbrella Corporation] He sighed, and tried to control his temper and impatience: ’I am sure, that I want to deactivate safety protocol.’ Safety protocol deactivated Enter. Something happened on the screens. He didn’t bother to read it. Shivering of anticipation, he undressed, laid the uniform – rigorously neatly folded – on a bench and stepped into the sluice. He didn’t need the neuro-helmet, and wore the breathing mask just for air. The IV was, however, necessary to pump him full of the high dose of viruses, the super-supplements, the reprogramming stuff and the super-gear-thingy. He stepped into Chamber 1. The fluid level rose. The warm, comforting fluid surrounded him. He fell into an analgetic half-dream state, only dimly aware of something happening to his bone structure. He had a list of those who deserved punishment. The Britse, who wasn’t able to speak his own language correctly, thought he was so tough with all his tattoos and all, chattering all the time like an old shrew, but De Vries was going to make him kneel and then put the thumbs in his eyes, listening to him screaming like a little girl. And then rip out his balls and tear off his willy, and ask who’s tough now? And he was going to let Monkey-boy watch. What was British armed forces thinking when they sent a black man to do a white man’s work? De Vries grandparents had moved to the Netherlands from South Africa in 1992, only to find that there were a lot of Arabs in the Netherlands. He distrusted Arabs. And Jews. De Vries had seen a star in the neck chain of Van Gelder, the other Dutch recruit. He distrusted Van Gelder. De Vries was going to torture The Britse and his monkey-boy friend before hunting the midgets down. The midgets didn’t deserve to undergo this enhancing treatment, and the turnout of events showed that one of the shrimps hadn’t been affected by The Program, but swooned like a little girl instead. Not like a real man. Not like himself, who had got brawny like a good test subject. Yeah! Really, really brawny. He wished he had been able to show his dad what he had become. His dad had been so disappointed when he slapped the neighbourhood children down as a kid. Dad used to chasten him with his belt. The same happened when he had smoked perfectly legal marijuana. And when he only came second in the swimming competition. And Fridays. De Vries had shown him what he was able of, by joining the Armed Forces, making dad proud. He was going to crush the heads of the shrimps with his heavy boots. He was going to torture Major Murphy, since he had become an inconvenience… De Vries slowly awakened from his reveries by the voluptuous feeling of growing muscle fibres. His already superhuman physique had already began to transform even further into unknown anatomical territory. He had liked how his muscles had filled out and increased in meaty firmness the last time, and the same feeling was rushing through his entire body now, even stronger than the last time. Doubling, tripling, quadrupling in intensity, like a wave of energized liquid, bubbling of raising power levels. Raw strength itself was forced into his growing, ever-hardening brawn, at a much higher power-level than the last time. He was almost unable to handle this extremely increased level, and doubted for a moment if he had chosen the right settings on the screen, but, in a mixture of voluntarily abandonment and forced surrender, he let his body and mind go into unrestrained and uninhibited transformation. Under the influence of the incredibly high doses of hypertrophic radiation the reprogrammed nano-bots, the high doses of the endocrine formula, and the now extremely modified DNA, he approached the goal desired according to the tampered Field settings. De Vries roared in pain and lust, but wasn’t aware of it any longer. The heightened levels of testosterone now stoked two primal fires in his mind – sex and aggression – and in his present state he could no longer separate one from another, leaving out all other mental activity. He felt his power to break and crush, dominate and humiliate, revel and wallow in ecstasy increase without limit. His physical form increased in heaviness and might. An ecstatic feeling of expanding in every direction, of hardness increasing beyond all restrictions, and of an energetic power level beyond all comprehension brought him to an orgasmic state lasting for hours without any relief or outlet. When he awoke he was lying in a puddle on the Lab floor, surrounded by glass splinters and a few screw nuts, unaware how he had got there. The Being looked at its hands, and noticed that the cuts were already healing, and that in an almost visible rate. The Being looked in the direction of the Chambers, and noticed how Chamber 1 had shattered. It was of no concern. The Being was hunting. Hunting such targets as midgets, a monkey boy, a faggot, the tattooed one and the one with many signs on its clothes. The hunt wouldn’t end until the prey had been crushed and destroyed. * * * AFTERWORD It took me almost six years, but I finally was able to write next chapter, which will be found HERE.

The Testosterone Effect Part III: Intensity Blake reflected on the events of the past few days as he walked across campus to meet Sampson at the lab. First it was the huge display of manly masturbation he put on at the lab. He reflected on how he felt during that time... it was as if some force had come over him and taken over his mind, making him unable and unwilling to do anything other than furiously beat his dick off in a sexual frenzy. And it was the same way with Matt, too, except that something else had happened to make Matt full of lust and desire. It was like Matt saw him sitting there, naked and erect, and was so overcome with sexual desire that he couldn't resist Blake. But ordinarily, Blake thought he would have rejected Matt's advances - they were roommates, and friends, and didn't want things to be weird between the two of them. But when Matt came over to Blake, that force again took over. It was weird; Blake thought hyper-testosterone would make him aggressive and want to fuck Matt, not the other way around. But in a way, he DID feel hyper-aggressive; it was just that his aggression was turned towards being fucked. All of the thoughts made Blake's cock twitch and tighten during his walk to the lab, and he struggled to hide his boner as he made his way across the quad. "Yikes, this is so ridiculous and embarrassing," he thought, but was turned on at the same time by the prospect of doing more kinky sexual experiments with Sampson. He arrived at the lab and was directed to Sampson's office. Sampson further elaborated on his theory about Blake's condition: "You see... the average adult male's testicles produce testosterone at a base line level, all the time. During times of arousal and sex - or masturbation, they start producing more testosterone, to a level about 10x the base rate. However, during your test, we measured a base testosterone of 5x higher than that... if you've done the math, your base production is 50x that of the average man. We weren't able to measure production while you were masturbating, but..." his voice trailed off. "But it was probably insanely off the charts," Blake replied. "Yes. Your body is producing testosterone at a tremendous rate. And judging by your reply to my e-mail... it has an interesting effect on other men as well. We are extremely interested in studying this and I'm sure you are, too. If that's the case, we should set up a schedule for more experiments." Blake agreed. "This is all sorta overwhelming... but I have to admit, it's really hot, and I can't imagine the regret I'll feel later if I don't take this opportunity." The two men talked over a schedule and plan. "We'll be doing more tests to measure your testosterone output and how it affects your body," Sampson reasoned. "We can start today, with a test not unlike the first one we did. Only we'll be using more intense stimulation." Blake agreed and was eager to get started, so Sampson escorted him out of his office and downstairs to the examination room. "We've made some upgrades in anticipation of finding subjects of interest," Sampson told Blake. "This time, you won't need to wear any leads; we've got state of the art biosensors in the panels of the walls now, which should give us even more data and interfere a lot less." Blake entered the pure white room and sat on the hard plastic bench in the middle of it, as Sampson retreated upstairs to the control room. His voice filled the room via intercom. "Alright, Blake, we're ready to get started. Go ahead and disrobe, completely." Blake got naked, throwing his clothes into a corner of the room. Several thousand white lights twinkled on the walls around him: the biosensors flared to life. "Hold still," Sampson ordered, "we're doing some base calibrations with the sensors, now." The sensors blinked for a while, and about a minute later, faded from the wall. "Alright, we're ready to begin in earnest, now. A few things to note: for this test, we won't be able to give you privacy, I'm afraid. We'll be recording what goes on and saving it on a server in the lab, so we can review it. The server is internal and not connected to any external networks, so it'll be totally secure and private, only accessible by our research group. We'll also be showing you some porn on the screen as before... any preferences?" "Sure," Blake laughed. "How about some muscular jocks? I've got kind of a sports fetish lately..." "Coming up," Sampson said. Four videos flicked on to the wall, each covering up a quarter of its surface: first were two men sitting in jockstraps in a locker room, next came three guys playing football shirtless, third came two guys nearly naked in a weight room, and finally, a group of guys participating in a wrestling tournament. Blake recognized a few of the videos (he was a horny college kid and average porn watcher, after all), and became a little turned on already. "We've also got something to stimulate you a little more than just the videos..." Sampson said. A panel in the rear wall of the room opened up, and a machine moved out from the wall and towards the back of the bench. Attached to the machine was a large dildo mounted on a motorized rod. A bottle of lube sat next to the machine. "Is... is that ok?" Sampson asked. "Fuck yeah," Blake commented, staring down the sex toy with lust. The experiments really were kinky. He couldn't wait, so he grabbed the lube and squeezed some onto the toy, coating it in a thick layer, and fingered himself to prepare for the huge dong. He sat hands and knees on the bench, staring straight ahead at the front porn wall, and spread his ass cheeks apart as the dildo moved into position. The thick 7-incher pressed up against Blake's ass, slowly inching forward, uncaringly pushing into Blake's hole. "Fuck!" Blake screamed. The large dong moved further and further into Blake, causing him to wriggle and writhe in a mix of pleasure and pain. After it was fully inserted, the toy began to vibrate and pulse, and slowly fucked Blake. His cries devolved into grunts, his voice deepening as his body's extreme hormone production began to take over. He felt his muscles tighten and thicken slightly. Next, he felt his mind slip away as the primal feelings of sex took over. Blake began to sweat profusely, and although he couldn't notice it, the room was filled with a thick musky smell, intoxicating to anyone who encountered it, as glands in his pits and crotch worked overtime to pump out pheromones into the air. Blake noticed a few hairs begin to appear on his chest; the testosterone was tightening its control over his body. The images of muscular hunks on the screen in front of him were pleasing, but a huge wave of lust took over his emotions. The dildo in his ass, fucking him hard and fast, now, wasn't enough. Just a few minutes ago even the slow pace of the machine was nearly too much for Blake to take, but the hormones now controlling his body craved even more. His cock was fully erect, 6.5" inches of thick meat pulsing and trying to grow larger. From the control room, Sampson watched Blake's body stressfully trying to grow. It was apparent that Blake's body was pushing itself to the limit, trying to produce muscle and tissue to grow bigger as his balls churned and worked overtime to produce more and more testosterone, and cum. "He seems to want even more," an intern commented, looking up from a computer screen collecting and collating all of the biosensor data into a summarized chart in real-time. "We're already at the highest speed and intensity," Sampson commented. He turned toward the internet, a 5'7" guy with light brown hair. "We'll leave him at this setting for a while, and in the meantime, we'll need to figure out something else to stimulate him even more for the next experiment. Max, can you start making plans?" Max the intern nodded. He was a pretty athletic guy himself, although he paled in comparison to Blake even before sex with Matt grew his muscles. Max was curious about how much more stimulated Blake could be, and what the results would be. The stud downstairs was already a primal sex beast, craving more and more- wait. Max grinned and had an idea. "Sir, if we're leaving the subject on this stimulation level, can I step out for a moment? The computer will collect the data automatically." "Yes, go ahead." Max nodded and exited the control room, bringing his universal access key card with him. As he hurried downstairs and into the hallway, his heart rate soared and his cock twitched at the idea of what he was about to do. Max approached the door of exam room, which was sealed tightly and had a red "IN USE" light angrily forbidding access. Max gulped and inserted his key card into the door, then typed the four-digit override code. Blake's bestial screams were muffled by the door, but Max heard the grunting and howling and became very turned on. The door shutter quickly rose to admit him access, then slammed behind him loudly. Blake screamed, "FUCK YEAH, I NEED MORE!" at the top of his lungs, as he intently glared forward at the porn projected on the screen as the huge dildo was relentlessly pounding his ass. Max took a deep breath, and at the instant Blake turned over and saw him standing at the door, he inhaled a massive dose of pheromones. "Holy fuck," Max muttered, instantly intoxicated by the smell. It was like a drug... the feeling of it was so intense, he was overcome with a desire, not just to enjoy more of the smell, but to get to the source of it and completely immerse himself in the masculinity it represented. Max instantly ripped off his shirt and pants. His 5" cock was fully erect, pitching a tent in his tight briefs. Blake moaned and howled, crawling away from the dildo machine. He stood upright, his cock now swollen to 7.5" and muscles nearly double their size when the test began. Blake ran over to him, and the two began making out, their cocks pressed up against each other. From the control room, Sampson slammed on his desk in rage. "HOW DID HE GET IN THERE! I told you I wanted the door locked and un-overrideable!" "S-sir... it's a safety precaution. We can't fully shut ourselves out from the exam rooms," stammered another intern. "Fuck! We weren't ready for testing with another man yet!" Back in the exam room, Blake was now lying on the table, the dildo machine pushed away, its purpose fulfilled. Max was on his hands and knees above Blake, his muscles and cock thickening and growing slightly, now 5.5", dangling over Blake's face. His own face rested in Blake's crotch as he sniffed and inhaled straight from the source of Blake's musky scent. Max ran his tongue up and down Blake's huge shaft and across his balls, slurping up sweat and precum. After some teasing, he wrapped his head around the tip of Blake's cock, slowly sucking on the huge meat, unable to take even half of it into his throat without gagging. At the other end of the table, Blake was sucking Max's cock furiously, deepthroating its entire length, feeling it grow and lengthen in his mouth. The two men were obsessed with each other, unable to stop having sex even if their lives depended on it. After some time spent 69'ing, Max stood up and grabbed the bottle of lube, which had been knocked to the floor in the commotion. He furiously lubed up his ass and Blake's cock, then squatted down and pushed as much of it into his ass as he could. The men fucked for a while, Max impaling himself with Blake's massive member, riding the dick with abandon. All the while, their bodies were producing more and more testosterone, resulting in a huge increase in muscle size. Max, who looked pretty strong, but nothing too out of the ordinary, now looked like a huge stud, definitely the strongest guy at any average gym. And Blake, who previously was a huge guy, was now resembling more of a giant muscle god, 7' tall and over 275 lbs of pure muscle. Finally, Max and Blake couldn't take any more, their bodies begged for release. Before getting up off of Blake's cock, Max unleashed a massive load all over Blake's chest, squirt after squirt of hot seed coating Blake's pecs, abs, shoulders, and face with white cream. It pooled up in the crevices between Blake's muscles and looked incredible. Blake lifted Max up off his dick, commanding him to kneel on the floor. The smaller man complied, and Blake unleashed an even larger torrent of his jizz all over Max, the force of which was almost enough to send him recoiling. The cum hit him with the force of a super soaker, spraying everywhere and pooling up on the floor. Blake screamed and yelled as load after load came gushing from his massive cock. Max, who got a little taste of cum from one of the earlier blasts, was positioning himself to be hit and covered with the most cum possible, and after Blake's orgasm had subsided, he was greedily licking his body, the floor, and Blake himself for every last drop of cum. There was far too much for him to finish, so he resorted to lying down on the floor, covering himself in it. Blake laid there with him, embracing his partner and kissing him intensely. The two men's muscles slowly shrunk, but settled on a resting point still quite a bit larger than they had begun the day with. Blake's cock, before softening, was around 8" long, having begun the day at only 6.5". Sampson surveyed the room from the control area. "Jesus Christ," he commented. "This is much more intense than we could have imagined." He commanded the interns to cycle the room's air several times before entering, incase of any lingering hormones, then to collect the now unconscious men and separate them into two different recovery rooms. "We have a lot of work to do," he concluded. Author's note: Dang, this was a hot part to write. The next part of the story will turn its attention to Matt, who's been changed in more than a few ways since his experience with Blake. Continued here! https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6435-the-testosterone-effect-part-iv/

The Teaser for this story is found here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/5008-teaser-for-the-new-story-project-defender/ DEDICATION I dedicate this story, which is my first, in gratefulness to all the persons who have given me advice: Scriptboy and Alexdrake who assisted with the translations in Chapter 2; Jocaflo, who taught me about Portuguese name customs; Arpeejay who gave me advice on stats (although I only followed most, and not all, of them); gecko888 who declined to let the French become main protagonists, but taught me a few thing about the French Armed Forces; and T. and W. who proofread (you know who you are). All quirks and oddities are the author’s own. Since English isn't my native language, please send me a message, if I am incomprehensible. Some things may have become corrupted in translation. DISCLAIMER The following Chapter do contain descriptions of verbal abuse, nakedness and sexually aroused men, a military-industrial environment, speciesism, a library scene with religious and atheist books, jokes about national stereotypes, a smaller amount of uncouth speech, together with a lot of Northern European irony and sci-fi references probably best understood by the age range born 1960-1990. If you may take offence of anything aforementioned, you are hereby strongly reckommended to not read further. Please, go away. You have been warned. DON'T PANIC Oh, and another thing: If the complicated background (which is two thirds of Chapter One) tire you out, you can jump right to 'It was afternoon again. Lamarck and Gospodinov had beeen unusually...' after three stars ***, in order to come to the growth bit, but you wouldn't understand the sci-fi-scientific lingo then. Added in 2021: For continuity reasons, I have edited a few details. Project Defender – Chapter 1 My heart sank in my breast, and I felt a feeling of foreboding coldness in my belly, when the army jeep entered the slope leading down into the subterranean tunnel. On our way there, I had watched the skies nervously for any vessels, but the Pseudo-Crustacean Extra-Terrestrial Organisms had seemingly chosen to attack another part of the European mainland that day, so we arrived unharmed. When we had passed through the Outer Perimeter a few minutes earlier, I had heard conversations in Finnish, English (with an Irish accent) and a handful of languages I didn’t recognise among the rugged, camouflage-painted snipers around the smoking wood-fires. Several days later I was briefed, that Finland, Northern Ireland, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia and Ukraine had volunteered to man the Outer Perimeter. I didn’t envy them, but sent them my thoughts of gratitude, since it was their dangerous duty outside, which made my assiduous work inside possible and undisturbed. The jeep continued on its way downward in the asphalt-coated meandering tunnel. On two consecutive levels we had to await the opening of armoured steel gates painted in black and yellow. Outside the first gate, the air was moist, and smelled of gasoline and rubber, but inside the gate, the jeep switched into electric mode. Silently purring without any fumes, the vehicle took us to our destination. I wasn’t surprised to find out, that my phone-watch didn’t work under the surface. The Inner Gate at the end of the Parking Hall (a natural cavern, enlarged and carved into rectangular shape by human hand) was connected to a keypad lock with microphone and speaker. ’Doctor Skrefsrud reporting for duty.’ I hoped that I used Army Speak correctly. University research teams were not environments, which trained for dealing with servicemen. ’Welcome, Doctor Skrefsrud.’, answered the metallic voice of the speaker. The gate opened for me and the driver, revealing a man-sized concrete passageway leading into Research Facility B. It was at this facility we had been ordered to assist in the defence against the Extra-Terrestrials (or PCETOs), by ’improving the performance of military human resources’, as the classified report preferred to express the purpose. All of it wasn’t classified actually. Certain parts of the scientific tools had been reported in newspapers, and an early undefined Pan-European plan about ’space marines’ had been debated in public several years ago, but nothing had happened then. And now a space invasion occurred. If the Project had been led by the European Union, several states, such as Iceland, Norway, UK (what was left of it), Albania or Ukraine would have been unable to participate. Likewise, Switzerland, the Republic of Ireland, Finland and Sweden would have refused to participate if the initiative had been taken by NATO, but since the Project was now launched by an entirely different international European body, they all agreed to do their part. The member countries had reacted in very different ways. France enthusiastically backed the project financially, and sent us their two required test subjects according to the letter of the agreement, together with a chef. UK told us, they should ’explore other means beside this laudable initiative’, but sent us lots of medical supply, two officers with a past in the SAS, a physicist and a sports medicine physician. The German negotiators obliged to take the major part of the financial burden for the Project, but informed us, that they declined to send any men at all, due to domestic political concerns. The Italian negotiator – a former Prime Minister – assured that Italy was willing to support the Project financially in many small amounts of money delivered according to a long-term plan, and tried to convince the coordinators, that a much larger share of Italian test subjects would be reasonable, ’since Italian men are more masculine than other Europeans’. I later heard a rumour, that the Spanish and Greek representatives tried to leave the negociations in an angry hurry at that moment, but our coordinators (Norwegian and Swiss diplomats, together with military officers from Ireland and Ukraine respectively) politely declined the offer: The Italians had to send just their agreed number of two men, and the placated Spanish and Greek representatives remained at the meeting until it closed. We had no fuzz with the smaller countries, but were somewhat surprised, when Liechtenstein, Andorra, San Marino and Monaco sent two test subjects each. Iceland have no army in the ordinary sense, but sent two coast guards instead. Vatican City informed us, that we ’served in a just war, if we defended the innocent’, but, due to a treaty, Vatican City was hindered to send any participants itself. Switzerland was constitutionally hindered to send any combatants on its own behalf, but sent us two Swiss Guards on the behalf of the Vatican instead. None of us on medical staff complained: The healthy, weapon-trained twenty-five year olds, sent by the Swiss, were probably more attuneable to the Project, than a pudgy, middle-aged, non-combatant, retired Ethics professor, a clerical office boy, or whatever the Vatican otherwise had been able to spare. I was met at the entrance of my new environment by Doctor Smith, an acquaintance from an international research conference. I didn’t know him very well, but, a couple of years ago, he had presented an interesting paper about Morphogenetic Fields. ’Nice to see you again, Doctor Skrefsrud. Let us skip Army Speak, while we are among fellow scientists. You will see, that the Research Facility keep us in three different areas: Military personnel at Hall 3-6-1, administration and nurses at 3-6-2 and us clever ones at 3-6-3.’ I followed Smith through the corridors carved into the stone. Research Facility B was a very vast complex of cavernous halls, coldly lit by old-fashioned fluorescent tubes. We passed an office hall with desks, computers and folders, staffed by the coordinators, Hansen and Müller, Novák, the Amanuensis and Andersson, the Registrar. ’Initially, Sweden and the Czech Republic – who had been given responsibility for the bureaucracy – wished to send women as office staff, due to equality concerns, but the European level decided against it – being worried about the risk of harassment, I suppose. Actually, several countries wished to send one male and one female soldier, but that was vetoed by Gospodinov, our endocrinologist. It was something about oestrogen balance and bad experiences from female shot-putters, back in the days. I didn’t listen attentively, I’m afraid, since endocrinology is not my field. We are only men here, now. An unusual environment, compared to my usual Oxford lab team, but I do not complain.’ Then we entered the mess hall. ’Since the Project is such a small unit, hastily gathered together in an emergency situation, there is no reason to uphold the difference between several different mess halls. I suppose the presence of us civilians has contributed to upset the ordinary structures somewhat. They didn’t know how to organise us, really.’, Smith said. ’But Major Murphy and Captain Melnyk usually sit at the short table close to that wall – reminds me of Refectory back at St. Cynhelm’s, actually – and the entire scientific department is allowed to sit there, if we wish. We have been given some slack, and we are allowed to eat together with the office staff or the test subjects if we wish. I don’t expect the grunts to read Einstein, Hawking or Vera Rubin, though.’ Smith pointed out the corridor leading to the test subjects’ living quarters, the corridor leading to the officers’ and office staff’s living quarter, the laundry, the gym, the showers, Inventory, Infirmary, meditation room, and the corridor leading to the research area. ’We have eighty-four test subjects at our disposal, organised into eleven smaller squads. Even if the result wouldn’t be optimal at the first trials, it wouldn’t take too long until we understand how to facilitate the procedure to maximum extent, or so I hope, anyhow.’ Smith was of slightly short stature, and, despite the years still left until his fortieth birthday, a somewhat rotund belly had began to grow at his mid-section. I was a few years younger than him, and had achieved my doctoral degree at the age of 31, some years before. When he brought me to the scientists’ living quarters, I found out that Smith, Green (the British sports medicine physician) and László (the hunky Hungarian nutritionist and trainer) and myself were scientists in our 30’s, and that the remaining three scientists all had passed their 60th birthday. We were assisted by four male nurses in their late twenties. We arrived at the living quarters for scientific personnel. I put my belongings in a locker, washed my face, and brought a handful of files with me to the lab. *** The following day I was focussed on directing the engineers while they unpacked most of our scientific equipment, but – to the consolation for all of us – the Dark Matter cyclotron had arrived and been installed long before my own arrival. I was therefore not fully aware that the corridors began to echo of arriving recruits, the youngest of them recently promoted to the rank of corporal at the instance they accepted the assignment to this very specialised company – the first of its kind. The briefing took place in the evening. Each of us had been instructed to give extremely short lectures in laymen’s terms – not necessarily an easy objective for a bunch of persons so accustomed to University. Major Murphy ordered silence, and in very few words presented The Program, and Captain Melnyk presented himself for the sake of the late arrivals, who hadn’t met him yet. They then assigned the scientific team to present the different aspects of The Program. ’Gentlemen. I am Professor Gruber. My area is brain physiology. My field of expertise is an entirely new way of imprinting new knowledge and new habits into the brains of persons, and enhance the speed of such things as reflexes and tactical decisions. I look forward to work together with you.’ The gaunt and bald Austrian neurological expert in his very strict grey suit, looked out over the audience with his penetrating ice-blue eyes, and ended his short speech. Gruber’s dry, aloof and abrupt style of addressing non-academicians only served to enhance László’s more relaxed and humorous style, when the latter spoke to the soldiers the same way he was accustomed to address footballers, weightlifters and bodybuilders, when he coached them: ’Hi. I’m Doctor László, but you may call me Csaba. The politician and the footballers are no relatives of mine, if you wonder.’ He chuckled. Only the two Hungarian test-subjects laughed. Under his lab coat László was dressed in a sweatshirt, tracksuit pants and sneakers. A stopwatch hanged around his neck, and he wore a heart rate reading device around his wrist. ’I am sorry that your meals will be measured with precision, and you will not be allowed to eat more than what I and my colleague here, Doctor Green, will allow. The meals will follow a planned and calculated pattern, with larger servings some days, and smaller servings some days. I assure you, that this is not at random. Theoretically, the pattern of your nutritional intake will cooperate with the other augmentation factors of The Program, to make you the best of the best. Every morning the nurses will take blood samples, urine samples and check your blood pressure. I will give you a training programme for physical exercise, and – as those of you who arrived early already have found out – we have an excellent gym at the Facility. Each one of you will see me and Doctor Green at least every eight day during the project, and the training programme will soon become individually tailored. The good news are, that servings at the meals will become larger for those who have undergone the procedure, and that it was decided that France and Italy would be responsible for sending chefs to The Program.’ Cheering from the Italians and the French. No-one else seemed to disagree, however. I looked out over a crowd of men of almost every European nationality. All of them had finished at least basic military training and served a few years, but, beyond that, their years in service ranged considerably. The youngest were 21 years old, while the most experienced of them were in their mid-30’s like László, Smith and myself. They had been sent here, not because of their age, not because of their years in service, or their military rank, but because of their performance ratings. A slender, clean shaven and rather tall man past his sixtieth year, dressed in the latest fashion suit under his lab coat, took the microphone. A moderately short carpet of dark grey frizzled hair covered his head elegantly, and a scent of a luxurious after shave was unavoidable to notice. His dark, sad and thoughtful eyes looked out over the audience. His pronunciation of English words was humming with the slightest French accent. ’ I am Doctor Lamarck. I research in genetics. The biological genetic makeup of each individual is a factor which determines the way he looks, many of his abilities and the way he reacts. Some diseases are not contagious but hereditary. In our research to cure hereditary diseases, we have discovered mechanisms, which could potentially be used to enhance physical prowess in healthy individuals. The limits of how fast, strong, enduring and quick thinking an individual is are determined by genetic factors, but we now believe that we are able to remove these limits. ’Most of you have heard about viruses, like that which cause the common cold. Besides bad viruses, which causes diseases, there are useful viruses. There are also neutral viruses – as it were – which neither cause good or bad effects on us. Modern genetic studies use such neutral viruses as a sort of vehicles or carriers of the sort of modified human DNA we hope will cure a patient. The patients’ immune systems will remove the viruses after a couple of days, but the modified DNA will stay and multiply. This method may also be used in order to enhance speed, endurance, strength or quick thinking. ’A more recent method use something called nano particles. The patient inhale the particles, which are programmed to rebuild the genetics of the patient. This is still on an experimental stage, but my team has researched for a long time, by now, how to use viral treatment and nano treatment in tandem. I have read that all of you are very good soldiers. I will rebuild you into perfect soldiers.’ The audience was murmuring excitedly for a few seconds. The sight of the men confirmed the impression I had gathered by reading their files: They were all very fit, but that common characteristic didn’t mean that they all looked the same. Far from it. Many seemed to enjoy frequent time at the gym, but without any considerable interest in fat loss or competitions. Some slim and lean (but very hard, sinewy and defined) soldiers, like the little Portuguese and his Polish friend, had very good ratings when it came to endurance tests and extremely long marches with lighter backpacks, and looked like what sprinters or fitness competitors would have looked, if they had developed more functional physiques. More than a handful of the test subjects were into bodybuilding. One of the Icelanders had competed in Strongman competitions, and had an entirely different type of physique. Some of the test subjects were under average height, but most of them were slightly above average. A handful of them were very tall – among them the Icelander and my fellow Norwegians, I proudly noticed. Doctor Gospodinov was a Bulgarian endocrinologist, close to retirement age. His hair was a formless tufty mass of grey and white, trying to escape in every direction. He was a broad shouldered man with dark brown eyes, somewhat under middle length and with a pot belly. He had unusually large cheeks, looked tired (which wasn’t surprising, since all of us had worked hard with the engineers to make the prototype chambers working), and was puffy under his eyes. He was dressed elegantly in a timeless three-piece suit under the white lab coat, and, while the rest of us had left watches and phones behind us years ago for contemporary phone-watches of different brands, he had an old-fashioned pocket watch in his waistcoat. He gave the impression to dislike the public speech situation, especially since the audience wasn’t composed of medical students. ’I am Doctor Gospodinov. I teach medicine, and I have researched on athletes my entire life. I will not bore you with giving you a full lecture in medicine. The reason that you were all surgically given a subcutaneous implant before arriving here – and as a matter of fact all of us were, although by different reasons – was to ensure easy access into your venous systems. The viral treatment by Doctor Lamarck and the hormone treatment by me will be administered through the membrane under the skin of your chest. If you want to enhance the performance of a man, it will not do to just tinker with one of the hormones, and it may even be counterproductive. A heightened dose of one performance-enhancing chemical may lower the dose of another useful and beneficial chemical. You need to take all biochemical substances naturally produced and used by the human body, and make them all interact in the right direction, in a concerted effort. If you believe that my job in this Project is to inject you with any new super-steroid, you are wrong. The negative side-effects of such a substance, if it existed, would outdo any positive effects – I suppose some of you may have heard about the bad complications of overuse of cortisone against inflammations? My job in this Project is to stimulate your own bodies to permanently produce the optimal balance of all the body’s own performance enhancing substances. After the initial treatment with this new stimulating formula – the exact composition of which is actually classified – you will not need any ongoing medication, and the effect will come from within yourselves, not from any injections or pills. The effect will remain the rest of your lives. Doktor Skrefsrud?’ Gospodinov had misjudged how much medical knowledge the recruits possessed, and he had lost most of them, despite his attempt to dumb down the subject. The awake and intelligent glimmer in the eyes of a lean and small Pole and his wiry and slim little Portuguese buddy did, however, show that not the entire class was asleep. It was my turn to speak now. I cleared my throat, and felt intimidated by standing before this sort of audience. A Dutch test subject had a very arrogant body language, and looked intently on me and the other scientists in an unnerving way with his green eyes. I cleared my throat. ’My name is Doctor Skrefsrud, and I am a physicist, just like Doctor Smith here. I will not go into any boring details, but I guess, that you will feel easier about what’s going on, if I explain the basic idea about what you will endure. You have all read about the Big Bang in Science Class at school, I suppose. The Universe expands at unfathomable speed. All visible material things are composed by a sort of matter we call ’baryonic matter’, since it is built by particles called ’baryons’: We can easily observe it, weigh it, measure it. What is less known, is that the Universe behaves in such a way, as there ought to exist another sort of matter: not easily observed, not easily measured. The expansion of the universe would render asunder the galaxies, if this other matter didn’t exist. We call it ”dark matter”, but please do not attach any importance to the word ”dark”. It is just a figure of speech.’ I had become accustomed to be perfectly clear on this account, when I educated undergraduates. The most silly and unfounded ideas could be spawned by the randomly chosen word ’dark’. It doesn’t mean ”bad”. ’There also exist ”dark energy”. For many decades, dark matter and dark energy were only hypothesised by the means of mathematics. Then, quite recently – in the early 2020’s – dark matter particles were observed by revolutionarily new means of observation. If you read science-fiction stories or comics in childhood, you know stories where the heroes get strange powers by radioactivity. In real life it doesn’t work that way: Too high amounts of radioactivity would give you cancer, not super-powers.’ The audience chuckled in a low voice. ’But dark energy radiation is not the same thing as radioactivity, since it is not baryonic.’ The audience abruptly fell silent. ’My mentor’s team has researched in several years on the probably beneficent effects of certain dark matter particles and radiation frequencies, in the hope to apply it medically. We are already in the early stages of successfully curing muscular dystrophy. In the future, we hope to help people who’ve lost a limb to grow a new limb. I know it sounds like science-fiction to you, and we haven’t reached our goal yet, but we have reason to believe, that we have the means to make Earth’s defenders against the PCETOs much better soldiers: More fit, more physically persistent, more powerful. I call this technology ’Hypertrophic Radiation’. Doctor Smith will now tell you more about how physics may help us in the war.’ Hair colours of all sorts gleamed in the artificial light, short-cut in different fashions: Buzz cuts, flattops, jarheads, short mohawks or shaved entirely. Ash-blond and fair brown seemed to be the most common hair colour among European men. Neither ’black’ nor ’blond’ are very good words to describe the variety of other actual hair colours: The glossy ’black’ of the Portuguese lads was something different from the velvet ’black’ of the two hunky Hungarians. Although you may have called the rye and golden hues of some Scandinavian test subjects ’blond’, these were actually two different colours, and these two colours also differed from the cream-coloured or almost white ’blondness’ of the two Estonians, one of the Ukrainians, one of the Finns and one of the Poles. Three of the test subjects were ginger: One of the Norwegians, one of the Britons (who stood there side by side to his Caribbean-British colleague) and one of the Irishmen. One of the men sent by France looked like he was of Polynesian-French descent. Since performance trumped everything, they didn’t share exactly the same background. Some of them were recruited from Special Units of several sorts, some from frogman units, paratroop units or marines, also depending on the various ways armed forces were organised in different European countries. ’Besides the discovery of hypertrophic radiation, which Doctor Skrefsrud just mentioned, the breakthrough in Dark-Matter-research, after a while, also confirmed the existence of Morphogenetic Fields, or Sheldrake-fields, as they also are known. Rupert Sheldrake had hypothesised about Morphogenetic Fields back in the 20th century, but very few scientists took his hypothesis seriously. That changed when Dark-Matter-research grew out of its initial phase. Now you ask: What is a Morphogenetic Field? We already knew the importance of the biological genetical makeup of each individual, as Doctor Lamarck already has described. Secondly, potential personal traits and abilities may blossom or lay dormant, dependent on outward factors such as education, physical exercise or food. But besides these two groups of factors, we now know a third group of factors: Morphogenetic Fields influence our physical development. It also seems like Morphogenetic Fields would contain and guide Hypertrophic Radiation to stimulate brain tissue, skeletal and muscular growth in certain ways. It seems like we are now able to control in which ways the Morphogenetic Fields form an organism. Each of the factors we work with in this scientific team would, on its own, enhance and augment your capacity, but the combined effect of all these factors together is so much greater. If you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to ask me after this briefing.’ *** The interviews began the following day. At the end of the day, I was exhausted by interviewing twenty-four of the men, and so were all my colleagues, with the notable exception of the inexhaustible Professor Gruber. It took us four days to interview them all. By then, László and Green had given them their individualised training programmes. The individualised meal-plans would reach the Mess Hall Kitchen next morning. Although the Project was officially meant to be performed in English, French and German simultaneously, it didn’t took long time, until we found out that it would be more practical to use English as main spoken language (although notes were written down in all the three languages). The Polish and Czech test subjects spoke German much more fluently than I did myself, but anyhow seemed reluctant to speak German. I tried to be polite, when I interviewed the Belgian, Swiss, Luxembourger, Andorran and Monegasque test subjects, and so using French, but they seemed to enjoy an opportunity to practice their English, especially one of the Belgians (who spoke Flemish at home) and the Swiss, the native tongues of whom happened to be Arpitan and Romansh. The French test subjects listened very amused to my stumbling pronunciation of the French vocabulary, and then proposed that the interview ’should continue in English, perhaps?’ The Liechtensteiners and Austrians (including Professor Gruber) would have preferred German to anything else, but since everyone else spoke English, they quickly adapted. It made the work much easier, not only for me, but also for Andersson, the Registrar from Sweden, who – although he read both languages – was reluctant to speak German or French. When I interviewed the two test subjects from UK, Jones and Taylor, I found out that they, too, were relieved when the trilingual rule was softened: None of them spoke anything else than English, and they had initially felt sheepish when they had been addressed in French or German. We worked much longer working days, than the usual eight hours, since time was essential, and a swift breakthrough in our experiment could mean life or death for so many persons. The four nurses were initially scheduled with extra recreation, since we knew that they had to be rested when night hours at Infirmary began. We needed, however, some sleep and recreation in order to think clearly, in order to not put the test subjects at risk. I found out, that our elder colleagues kept together in our free time, and seemed like fish out of water at the Facility. It took less than three days, until Gruber, Gospodinov and Lamarck began to keep together outside working hours. Most of the time they sat in the living quarters at 3-6-3, but sometimes they gathered in the Lab, since Gospodinov had a habit of smoking his cigars under the fume hood. The alternative for the four of us younger researchers, was to spend free time together, or together with some of the test subjects or office workers, either at Mess or at the Gym. *** Green and László had mainly worked together with athletes during their professional careers, and both maintained an overall healthy life style even privately. It was easy for them to befriend those among the test subjects who were interested in weight training (although that was far from all). Despite my resultless experience of weight training, I had nothing against following Green and László to the gym during lunch hour. ’Have we heard anything more from the Yankees or the Russians?’, Green asked László on our way into the gym. ’No. It seems like the transatlantic cable broke and several satellites went down quite early in the attack from the Space Squid. Kiev lost telephone- and web-connection with Moscow and Beijing. We don’t know what happens elsewhere. It is up to us now. This experiment got to work correctly, and that soon.’ László changed subject, and eyed me professionally: ’Have you worked out before, Skrefsrud? I see that your body fat is low?’ ’Actually, I worked out at a gym during my graduate studies, in order to give it a try,but since I didn’t achieve any visible results, and continued to be scrawny, I quit the gym, but continued jogging. Is the word ”hardgainer” a current one? Some of my fellow students used that word about me.’ ’Oh yes. It is a rather common situation. Some people have to eat incredible amounts in order to achieve any muscle gain. Perhaps you followed the meal plan of dieters or a baseline one. It is useless for ectomorphs.’ The scent of steel, subtly corroding of salty sweat, filled the gym, but was mixed by whiffs of talcum powder, rubber carpets and cheap anti-perspirants like Lynx. The clang and clink of weight-plates hitting each other or steel bars hitting power rack stands echoed among the stone walls, only slightly subdued by the rubber carpets. Some of the recruits had made themselves at home in the gym from Day 1. László stopped at a leg curl machine, used at the moment by two British SAS-officers: The ginger Lieutenant Jones and the Jamaican-British Lieutenant Taylor – the latter with the good looks of a young Cassius Clay. I listened absent-mindedly for a few seconds, but thought it a good idea to say hello to the men at the nearest bench. It happened to be the rather tall Polish frogman Sergeant Zielinski, his compatriot, the short paratrooper Corporal Kowalski, and the short Portuguese, Corporal Soares. Soares was lifting a bar of probably his own weight. Many of the test subjects were rather clamorous and boastful individuals, but the 21 year old Kowalski was unusually silent and reserved. Almost shy. He had a lean physical constitution, witnessing an ability to persevere and endure in extreme conditions. I had noticed that he worked out very seriously at the gym, but, despite this, he hadn’t achieved any typical bodybuilder-physique. The downy stubble on his scalp was cream-coloured and almost white. A silver pendant hung around his neck in a rather heavy chain, but I wasn’t able to see what it depicted. Corporal Soares was of the same age and same body-type as Corporal Kowalski. When he had restored the bar to the stand, he observed his surroundings with an alert and humorous gaze. ’Two other hardgainers.’, I thought for myself, and felt sympathy for them. I had finished my scheduled exercise for the day, and was on my way to the showers with László and Green, when we heard shouts from the calf raise machine in the corner. ’Who the hell brought the small fry to this project? How do you think you could meet the Space Squid in battle, or be useful subjects for these tests? Midgets!’ It was Corporal De Vries, one of the Dutchmen, who stood leaning over Kowalski and Soares. Kowalski answered less noisily, and I couldn’t hear what was said. De Vries gripped Kowalski’s t-shirt and lifted him up in the air, saying things I couldn’t hear from this distance. László was already on his way to the corner, followed by Taylor. I couldn’t hear what was said, but Taylor gripped De Vries by the shoulder. De Vries put Kowalski down, and László said something heatedly to De Vries, of which I could only hear: ’My gym. My rules.’ When Kowalski and Soares left with Taylor and László, De Vries gave them the finger behind their backs with an angry expression on his face. *** When I arrived to the Lab after lunch, Smith and Gruber were discussing their fields of research, respectively. ’Is the breakthrough of your’s recent, Professor Gruber? I’m not sure that I have heard anything about it before.’ ’The first breakthrough was with mice in 2014. We cured them from depression, by stimulating their hippocampus and reward centre simultaneously. By developing the neuro-helmet a few years later, it became possible to stimulate various parts of the brain without any cranial surgery.’ ’But what will happen now, when the same technology is applied militarily?’ ’I have scanned the brain-wave patterns of a great number of expert soldiers, and brought them together in a standardised high achieving pattern. In layman’s terms, you could say that I will implant memories or habits into the specimens, by using recordings, as it were, from other individuals.’ ’Are there any dangers to it, Professor Gruber?’ ’Not any I am aware of. Nowadays we even have equipment to translate mildly hypnotic verbal suggestions into brain wave patterns, by the help of an AI, and it has worked very well to treat insomnia and stress disorders in individual civilians. A military application is something new, and will probably need some milder adaptions and adjustments before working optimally.’ ’So it is the first time you apply it for a military purpose?’ ’Yes, and it is the first time I try to use it in this scale. How does your own part of The Program work, Dr. Smith?’ ’Initially, we had to program every detail of the Emmeffs from scratch, and in the process we blew up a lot of fruit flies and some mice, I’m afraid.’ ’Emmeffs?’ ’Oh, sorry for that. Morphogenetic Fields. It takes so long to say, so, within the team, we call them Emmeffs. After a while the mice were lucky and survived. Anyhow, later on, the computer engineering department assisted us in simplifying the programming of the fields. We had a grotesquely large prototype programming device, which determined how a standard mouse should look. We put a poor little fellow in the Chamber – he suffered from muscle dystrophy – and, voilá! – he was cured. And he didn’t explode. Later on, the engineers were able to slim down the size of the Programmer – which was a great relief, since the Black Matter Cyclotron was space consuming as it was, without the Programmer competing for space. From then on, the experiments behaved a little more – eh – standardised, I would say. One of my colleagues performed a series of experiments on a dystrophic hamster, and later turned it into a birthday present to her nephew, who called it ’Hulk Hamster’. As you see on this display, we have a sketch of a man here…’ He pressed a button. A drawing of an average man, sketched in blue lines against the black background, glow on the screen. The drawing was anatomical, and each muscle was marked in fine detail. With another button Smith could display the inner layers of those muscles who consisted of several layers. ’which is the starting point of The Process, and then…’ He pressed a third button. Another line drawing lit up on the screen – this one in green lines. It was only slightly larger than the blue drawing, and looked like it was projected outside and around the first man, enclosing him. ’…this one, which is the desired goal. It is possible to grow the green chart proportionally…’ He pressed another key, and the green man became taller and wider, but retained his average physique. ’… but it is also possible to click on each muscle, and redesign the way he looks.’ Smith moved the cursor, clicked on a number of individual muscles, and clicked some boxes. ’Ooops. This combination of changes would make him deformed. It is important to maintain symmetry and functionality. We have some templates approved and authorised by the Command. Let’s see…’ Smith’s fingers danced at the keyboard, and a green anatomical chart popped up on the screen. The depicted man was huge and looked dangerous. If anyone looked like that, he would probably have good chances to win a weight-lifting competition, or perhaps bodybuilding. Smith shut the machine down. ’I would prefer if we begin with the Neuro-Reprogramming Phase. If he becomes physically enhanced but without self-control, we could have a situation here. We don’t want to endanger The Project, would we?’, Gruber suggested. ’Who’s the first one in the pipeline?’ It happened to be Corporal Soares. The fit little Portuguese was briefed about the process, and told that his physical conversion wouldn’t occur, until we were sure the Neuro-Reprogramming worked correctly. He left his boots, cargo trousers and T-shirt on a bench, and took somewhat shyly off his socks and pants. On the top of the pile he put a silver pendant in a heavy chain. I noticed that the pendant depicted St. Michael the Archangel. Gruber put the neuro-helmet on his head and the breathing mask over his nose and mouth. ’Good luck! And just relax!’, László said, when Soares stepped into the sluice, and reached the cylindric chamber, built of glass and steel. ’Synthetic amniotic fluid activated’, Lamarck said, while the light blue liquid began to fill Chamber 1. ’Body temperature 37,4 Centigrades’, Green reported from the body scanner. I still feel worried and disappointed about what happened the following hour. A few minutes after Gruber had activated the Neuro-Reprogrammer, Soares screamed in agony and fear. His pulse and body temperature were abnormally high, and we had to abort the process. When Chamber 1 had become sufficiently emptied of liquid, László and Nurse Dubois entered the sluice and carried the unconscious Soares out of the Chamber, and put him on a paper-covered medical bunk, before moving him to a moveable hospital bed. László and I were shaken, but luckily Green kept his mind cold, and gave Soares a physical exam. He consulted with Gruber, but the diagnosis was outside my own field of expertise. Somehow, the reprogramming had caused Soares a comatose state, but his life wasn’t endangered. Green connected him to IV-nutrition, and Dubois wheeled the hospital bed away to Infirmary. The following day came. Morning was scheduled for interviews and medical tests as usual, but I felt worried over the afternoon experiment. Would that go wrong as well? This time it was one of the Swedes, Corporal Johansson, who sat waiting in the waiting room. Johansson was somewhat over medium height and robustly built, although not conspicuously so. His golden hair was cropped, his nose slightly upturned and his eyes sky blue. ’We will not lie to you: The Program is still in a prototype phase, and may be dangerous, although not lethal. It would be unethical to keep this information away from you.’, Green said. A worried expression came and went in Johansson’s eyes, but he answered: ’Give it a try. I was aware that the Project was experimental when I agreed to go here. Do your best. It is my duty to give you a chance to develop The Program, isn’t it?’ He left his clothes on the bench. The neuro-helmet, the IV and the breathing mask were placed where they should be, and the experiment began. The Preparation Phase for reprogramming took almost forty-five minutes. Tranquillising and analgesic formulas devised by Gospodinov and Lamarck circulated in Johansson’s blood vessels, and Gruber had modified some settings in the Neuro-Reprogrammer. This time we would try to change both the mind and the body of the test subject. ’Do you hear me, Corporal Johansson?’, Green asked into a microphone. ’Mmmm, yes… So sleepy…’, came the answer from the microphone in Johansson’s breathing mask. ’Do you feel okay?’ ’Oh, yes. Go ahead.’ ’Initiating Neuro-Reprogramming.’, Gruber reported from his corner. A low humming sound was heard in the Lab. ’Pulse increasing’, Green reported from the body scanner. We could hear how Johansson’s breathing becoming faster. ’No. No, no, no. NO!’, he shouted into the microphone. I felt uneasy. ’No, it… no, um. Umngh.’, the protests subsided and changed gradually into moaning or grunting sounds, until a sudden change in mood seemed to have occurred: ’Yes. YES! I will comply! All orders will be executed! Becoming integrated into The Program!’ ’Pulse decreasing’, Green reported. The breathing was still faster than normal. Now and then Johansson mumbled. ’Brain activity as expected’, Gruber said. Fifteen minutes later, it seemed that the neuro-reprogramming had went well this time. ’Initiating Physical Reprogramming’, Lamarck reported. ’Endocrinal stimuli working’, Gospodinov answered. ’Viral activity increasing. Nano saturation increasing’, Lamarck echoed. ’Twenty millisheldrake, and increasing.’, Smith reported from his screen. ’Hypertrophic Radiation 110% and increasing’, I answered from the screen in my part of the Lab. The hypertrophic radiation (although invisible when projected in gas, vacuum and most liquids) became visible when it was projected into the specially devised synthetic amniotic fluid together with the Morphogenetic Fields. Slowly we increased the stimuli. After a while it was obvious for the naked eye that Johansson had become visibly more muscular, but suddenly something went wrong: ’No! This is not my body! Where has my body gone? I can’t move my legs! I can’t feel my arms!’ The frightened screams increased, then suddenly fell silent. Gruber reported that the specimen had become comatose. The events from yesterday repeated themselves, and the setbacks took their toll in most of us. Their upbringing helped Smith and Lamarck to keep up a polite and neutral facade, but unlike the unperturbed Gruber, they seemed anyhow to feel concern for Soares and Johansson. The rest of us were unable to hide our feelings of worry, concern and guilt. I had honestly believed that the safety level of The Program’s each component was higher than this. What had we done to these young men? The next morning, it was impossible to keep what had happened a secret. Major Murphy told the recruits during breakfast that Soares and Johansson were unconscious in Infirmary. Someone called Gruber ’Doctor Frankenstein’, and someone threw a paper cup in the back of Smith’s head. László was avoided by his training buddies at the gym. Corporal Kowalski stared accusingly on me without a word. The mood at the Facility deteriorated. The ginger haired Lieutenant Jones complained over how László had planned the meals: ’Yuh’ll be kidding me! No bloody jipper ter the veggies?’ We cancelled any scheduled afternoon experiments, and went through all readings and notes again and again.Gruber asked all of us in the scientific team to record our brainwave patterns, in the presumption that we all had ’healthy brainwave patterns’, whatever that meant. *** I went to bed early, but couldn’t sleep, since Lamarck and Gospodinov were drinking wine in the neighbouring room. I drifted into the Lab again. It must have been after midnight, but Gruber worked late. I heard him talk into a microphone in a way which reminded me of relaxation sound files a friend of mine had used: ’You will be in perfect control of your body. You will be in perfect control of the abilities you have achieved by integrating into The Program, regardless of how much your physical form changes. You feel calm and relaxed. Your physical performance will be enhanced. It feels good to enhance your physical performance. You are in perfect control. You are perfectly present in your body. Everything will be fine. You will obey The Program. You will integrate everyone attuneable into The Program. You will obey the direction to protect the military unit and all civilians. You will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of yourself and of The Program. No-one will be permitted to abolish or limit the aim of The Program. You will attune perfectly. You will become enhanced. You will become augmented according to plan.’ Gruber pressed a button. A metallic voice answered: Vocal instruction translation into brainwaives initiated executed and accomplished The recording translated from speech into a brainwave pattern visible at one of the screens. Gruber pressed some other keys on the keyboard. A pattern labeled ’Smith’ flashed on the screen and was mixed with the first pattern. A pattern labeled ’László’ was glimpsed for a moment, until Gruber mixed it with the other two. I left the Lab, since I wanted to be alone. Somehow, I drifted into the Infirmary. It was Nurse Dubois who served at nightshift. A single lamp was lit close to Soares’ bed, in the light of which a silver pendant glinted on the bedside table. A plastic bag with nutrition hang from a stand, connected to Soares’ IV with a thin plastic tube. He wasn’t alone. Kowalski sat on a chair, looking sadly on Soares. I felt my bad conscience return, and I left the Infirmary silently. Since I was an Agnostic and a non-practicing member of Church of NorwayI hadn’t felt any reason to peek into the Meditation Room before, but I did it now. First, it lay in complete darkness, but a dim point, turning out to be a LED, guided me to the graded switch. At 50%, the grey ovoid concrete room rested in a soft and calming illumination. The floor consisted of polished stone. No images were to be seen. No chairs, but concrete benches fixed to the wall and surrounding a moderately large open space. Right. Le Corbusier meets IKEA. Ceiling-high cabinets were folded into the wall at some places, alternating with the grey concrete. In one part of the room, close to the entrance, the cabinet doors were made in dark oak, but gave place to several shades of gradually lighter brown woods in the middle, and with fir panels at the opposite end. ’Obvious committee work’, I thought. ’The British and the Greek had probably voted for oak, and the Norwegians and Swedes voted for fir. But the architect solved the problem tastefully. Probably someone from France or Switzerland.’ I continued to explore the room. In one cabinet I found bookshelves: The Christian Bible in thirty languages. Three books with the title ’Chumash’, which turned out to be the Hebrew Bible with translations into English, German and French. Six translations of the Koran in several languages. A highly decorated book in Greek, which I couldn’t read, and two similar ones in two eastern European languages I couldn’t identify. A German book called ’Gotteslob’. A number of booklets with latin text and several vernaculars in parallel columns. A handful of small A6-booklets in bright colours announcing: A Common Eucharist and Evening Prayer: As agreed upon by the member churches of the Porvoo Communion. A handful of similar booklets in duller – or perhaps more serious – colours with the title: Gottesdienst in Kriegszeiten. Ein Leuenberger Agenda für EKD, SEK, FEPS und GEKE 2021. Bhagavadgita in English, German and French. A slightly damp-damaged booklet with the title Sandhya Vandanam. Samyutta Nikaya – what on earth is that? Oh – Buddhism in English translation. The Lotus sutra. Platform sutra. Guru Granth Sahib – hmm… Oh – Sikhism! Dawkins: The God delusion with a sticker: ’Donated by the National Secular Society’. Russell: Wisdom of the West. Oh, there seem to be something for everyone here! Someone has been thinking. We didn’t have any permanently stationed chaplain at the Research Facility, since the stay was – hopefully – expected to be short, but preparations had been made to facilitate devotions according to several religious beliefs or non-beliefs. I riffled absentmindedly through the pages of Bhagvadgita. I wasn’t Hindu, and only knew it by name: ’Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ Not uplifting, but hadn’t I heard these words before? Read somewhere… No. I couldn’t remember. Another cabinet contained a number of prayer shawls, two types of chalices for Eucharist, and a number of foldable carpets. As a matter of fact, a few of the uppermost carpets were folded slightly more carelessly than the lower ones, so probably they had been used more recently. A timer. A Byzantine icon of Christ folded in protective velvet, and a copy of Our Lady of Czestochowa, similarly contained. An electric fake candle. A lighter. Batteries. A crock filled with sand. A cylindric aluminium box marked ’Spaghetti’. Spaghetti? I opened the box, and a scent of sweet wood of some sort greeted my nose: It contained incense sticks, which reminded me of the habits of a former girlfriend. Most of the space in that cabinet was, however, consumed by small foldable meditation benches in different sizes. When I observed the polished stone floor, I became aware of a very subdued mosaïque, which informed the directions of East, Mecca, and North. Why North? I was puzzled. Both the southern wall and the northern were equipped with handles in waist height, which made me curious, but it turned out to be two foldable altars. Why two? Whatever belief anyone had – or not – the room was soothing, at least when the cabinets were closed and the altars folded back to the walls. I sat there in the stillness for more than twenty minutes, until I returned to my bed. *** It was afternoon again. Lamarck and Gospodinov had been unusually silent and gloomy in the morning, and didn’t melt until lunch, when they had consumed unusually large amounts of mineral water and buttered bread. Smith and Green absent-mindedly looked through their notes again, and László emitted whiffs of Lynx. ’Nice Einstein hair-do, Gospodinov!’, was the first words, when Lieutenant Jones entered the Lab. Jones, it had come out during the interview almost a week earlier, had a long time background in SAS, and was divorced. During childhood he had moved around frequently with his divorced mother between several places in the north: Liverpool, Manchester, Blackpool, Wigan, Bradford, Newcastle… – a litany of place names. His head was covered in a red haired buzzcut, and his ears were more protruding than in an average person. He was of pink composure, and built like a human version of a pitbull terrier. His military tattoos made him look perilous, but towards the scientific team he behaved protectively and irreverently in a humorous and good-natured way. It seemed that László and Jones had bonded well at the Gym already, and that helped to make Jones cooperative, despite of the sour mood in the Mess Hall. ’Ah dinna thought tha’ the avvy would come so suuhn. After wha’ ’appened ter Soares and Johansson, we all feel a li’l bi’ worried abuht the effects, out there. Wharryl ’appen ter us inside the Magic Boxes?’ Smith and Green seemed to understand Jones’ argot well enough to answer him, but for me, who was only familiar with schoolbook English and TV-programmes from BBC sent by Norwegian broadcasters, Jones was incomprehensible. The elderly scientists also seemed to be confused by Jones’ version of English. Smith explained: ’The Program is still in a prototype stage, but we believe that we may have fixed the bug now. If you two react well, and we have reasons to believe you will, the readings from your transformations will probably help us wake Soares and Johansson from their unconscious states.’ Corporal Bjarnarsson had stood silent near the doorway from the waiting room, looming. He was a twenty-seven year old giant of a man, with a past in strongman-contests. ’Ah. Corporal Bjarnarsson! For you the Procedure will probably cause less strain. The change will be lesser in extent, since you are in such a good shape already.’ For a millisecond Jones eyed Bjarnarsson somewhat enviously, but then changed back to his usual irreverent humorous chattiness. László took their measures, as befitted their coach. Curious, I peeked over László’s shoulder in order to see the Pad connected to The Program: Ltn. Jones: Weight: 95 kilogrammes Height: 186 centimetres Chest: 115 centimetres Waist: 91 centimetres Arm: 40 centimetres Thighs: 66 centimetres Cpl. Bjarnarsson: Weight: 156 kilogrammes Height: 199 centimetres Chest: 160 centimetres Waist: 104 centimetres Arm: 60 centimetres Thighs: [AWAITING DATA] ’When Ah was rather nuw in the Service, abuht fifteen years ago, or thereabuht, me an’ me mates went ter cinema an’ watched th’film ”Captain America”. ’s like being in the middle uvv something similar ’ere, innit. Please duhnt knock me uuht like yuh did ter Corporal Soares an’ Corporal Johansson.’ Jones continued to talk while the IV, the neuro-helmet and the mask were placed on him and Bjarnarsson. Bjarnarsson was reticently silent. Then they moved into the sluices and the Chambers. ’Tranquillisers and analgesics distributed.’, said Gospodinov, looking at a monitor governing the IV. ’Forty millisheldrake, and increasing.’, Smith reported from his screen. ’Hypertrophic Radiation 125%, and increasing’, I reported. ’Endorphins activated. Myostatine blockers activated. Testosterone production rising. Oestrogen moderated. Adrenalin moderated. Kortisol moderated. Somatropin level rising.’, Gospodinov said. ’Viro-treatment active. Saturation level of nano-particles increasing’, Lamarck echoed. Something looking like ghostly flames in a strange golden hue flared and filled the entire cylinders, surrounding Bjarnarsson and Jones. Something looking like electric bolts (although we knew they didn’t have anything to do with electrons) hit the defenceless bodies of the two test subjects. Gruber attended their Neuro-Reprogramming. It went well this time, but it was too soon to triumph and feel relief. Soon both bellowed lustfully their acceptance of, and obedience to, The Program, and the Competence Programming was encoded into their brains. Meanwhile, the analgesics, the endocrine treatment and the DNA-altering formulas circulated in their bodies, preparing the way for the upcoming Physical Reprogramming Phase. They fell into oblivion for a while, when their bone tissue adapted with an ugly scraping sound. They regained consciousness. Their breathing became heavier. They clenched their fists. Their shoulders and legs tensed. Their manhoods awakened. An eerie pulse of force caused their muscles to tense and relax, tense and relax… A change occurred in Bjarnarsson. The already very huge man didn’t become taller, but his body composition went from big-bellied to what my student-day gym-buddies would have called ’ripped’. Any unnecessary body fat was burned away by the altered metabolism induced by The Program, and Bjarnarsson’s already well-developed muscled swelled. The changes of Jones were much more tremendous. When he entered the Chamber, he was padded of tight but undefined muscles like an overstuffed Chesterfield, but now his brawn was growing, and when body fat burned away, his muscles became visible like protruding spheres and bicones of terrifying strength. ’Uh, uh! Ah! Oh, it’s so fuckin’ unbelievable! It’s so friggin’ brilliant, innit! Duh yuh hear me ouht there? … Oh yes! Really ace! All hard flesh… meatier… Am beefing up! … the feeling! It’s… oh, OH! Am connected to this amazing power surge, nnnn, mmmm, aah! Charging me! Powerload! Powercharge! POWERHOUSE! Um! Nnng! Ah! Yes, yes! Yes! Um! Nnngh, nnngh, AH!’ We lost verbal communication from Jones, since his words devolved into incomprehensible excited moans and grunts. His body was not easy to see by now, since the golden shimmer from the rays enfolded him, but, from what could be visibly observed and from the growing blue digital chart of his body, his physique quickly adapted to the extreme ideal of the green digital chart of the Field. In the other Chamber, Bjarnarsson emitted similar noises as Jones. A pulsating pump raged in every muscle of Jones’, but, unlike pump at the gym, this actually increased his muscle tissue here and now. His back muscles contracted, relaxed, hardened and swelled. Incredible back muscles protruded increasingly, forming a map of valleys and ridges. His lats broadened. His glutes formed into globes, and then globes indented, forming ’C:s’ patterned like spruces. His shoulders became boulders. His neck filled out into steel wires plaited into cords, forming an uncrushable bull neck. His calves became insane rugby balls of rock, defined by a valley into twin ridges. Both the front and the back of his thighs swelled into jaw-dropping vein-ridden monuments of masculine might. Deeply defined abs formed an unconquerable brick-wall of warm flesh, and his chest was composed of two expanding shields of engorged bulbous brawn, radiating of vigour. Under the influence of the treatment his vein-patterned triceps, biceps and forearms, fortified by hypertrophic power, were ever hardening, bulging and toughening. When The Program reached its culmination both test subjects shouted in hypertrophic bliss, bellowed in anabolic ecstasy, and roared in testosterone-fuelled power-craze. Green noticed that both specimens ejaculated. He looked at Gospodinov, who answered: ’Probably a side effect of the extremely heightened testosterone-production. The nurses have to clean the Chambers before next experiment.’ Nurse Fischer looked up from his notes with a disgusted expression. For a few seconds both test subjects passed out, and for a while we were all very worried that our failures would repeat, but Jones and Bjarnarsson soon regained consciousness, while the fluid receded. As soon as possible, László and Nurse Fischer opened the sluice doors and helped the subjects out. They actually could walk by themselves, but seemed elated and dizzy-headed. While they used their towels, we could notice that they transpired a lot of sweat. Worried, Smith asked: ’How do you feel?’ ’Ah feel really boss, nuw. Gobsmacked, really. Yuh duhn’t have ter worry abuht me, Doc. Am really made up. Feeling buff as hell. Wha’ stonking arms!’, and, eyeing his new complection he added: ’An’ its the first time Ah got a real bronzee, mate. At vacation in Ibiza and Lanzarote, Ah uhnly got pink, scolded and peeling. Dis’s unusual. But Ah can’t stan’ ’ere starkers all day. Yuh said something abuht a nuw sorta uniform?’ Calmly, Bjarnarsson said something about feeling fine. Green took measures of Bjarnarsson, while Smith took the measures of Jones,in order to assure that the data on the screen were correct: ’Oh by Jove!’ Ltn. Jones: Weight: 180 kilogrammes Height: 200 centimetres Chest: 188 centimetres Waist: 97 centimetres Arm: 76 centimetres Thighs: 96 centimetres While László was ransacking the Inventory for the new prototype uniform, Smith explained: ’The prototype uniform was engineered for several reasons. Since a traditional uniform would probably risk to either fray or to be a chunky inconvenience in action, something adaptable and stretchable was needed. Since the PCETOs seemingly use IR-perception as their primary sense, it was important to use a fabric which conducts excessive body heat in an unnoticeable way, while still warm enough. A new way of arranging carbon atoms has been demonstrated to hold the capacity to protect from projectiles and edged weapons. Since some of your future operations probably will take place in space, the uniform had to be easily used in combination with conventional space suits and the new prototype space armour. The same material is actually used in the tarpaulins at the Outer Perimeter, in order to camouflage the wood fires.’ László returned from the Inventory with a number of items of clothing. I hadn’t seen the new uniform myself, so I was as astonished as the recruits themselves. The stuff was black and glossy, with no hints of spun threads. Most of all it had a sort of leathery surface, but it had pliable qualities, and formed after the wearer. ’Dis pura kecks is tuh tight. Du yuh ’ave any larger pair uvvem? A’ve no’ any sparrer legs, anymore. Lewk at these ’amstrings an’ calves!’ László had a broad grin on his face, and handed over a larger pair of uniform trousers. It turned out that size 11 boots were too small, and we all waited while Jones tied the bootlaces of his size 12 army boots. When Jones and Bjarnarsson had dressed, we inspected the results. The uniforms looked painted on them, but, regardless of this, there seemed to be no risk of fraying or rips at the seams. The black, glossy and leathery material cling in a snug-fitting way to their enormous shoulders and pecs, saliently enhancing the presence of the shoulder straps with insignia and the breast pockets – the short sleeves leaving the forearms bare. The shirt buttons were designed to be non-obstructive and easy to button. The trousers were snug around the calves, but were tailored like cargo-trousers around the thighs, in order to facilitate the typically useful pockets. The trousers were reinforced over the groin, in a way bringing anti-riot equipment to mind. The belt buckle was adorned with the heraldic crest of this prototype Company. There was something vaguely intimidating to the rather high bootlegs, but, despite being advanced in ways which went over my head, the boots looked like typical military boots designed for practical usefulness rather than looks. They were smoothly polished, but with the new material the entire uniforms had the look of being polished by military standard shoe polish. The results were stunning. The uniforms didn’t hide their muscular physiques, but revealed and highlighted them. It felt somewhat unsettling to be in the presence of the uniformed and huge recruits. ’Yuh ’aven’t given ed a thought to take a trip into the Magic Boxes yerself, Doc? It luuk like yuh could ’ave use fer ed, eh? An’ yuh, Coach? Yuh would certainly like ed. Mooch be’er than slapping the monkey.’ Smith looked away with an embarrassed expression. His ears and cheeks were purple. Green interrupted: ’You will need some rest in the Infirmary. Later tonight or early tomorrow we will go to the gym and measure how your performance has increased.’ When Jones and Bjarnarsson had left for observation in Infirmary, Smith commented our conversation with Jones: ’There is something you mainland Europeans don’t understand: That UK is a kingdom divided by a common language.’ Chapter Two is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6609-project-defender-–-chapter-two/

I haven't posted any story before. The purpose of this teaser is twofold. It will give readers a vague hint of the setting, and I will become familiar with how this forum handles text layout-wise. Please tell me if something looks funny on your computers. There are so many things that may go wrong with computers and internet. In another thread, the text I posted was perceived as white letters on white background for some readers. Thatwas not intentionally, and I hope to avoid such problems. DISCLAIMER The teaser doesn't contain anything worth warning for, with the possible exception of slightly derogative designations of citizens of the USA and the Russian Federation, but some of the chapters of the finished story will. Do not read this if you find any of the aforementioned things offensive. Project Defender – The Teaser Janssens felt an icy chill in his chest. Earth was under attack. Communication with the Yankees, the Russkies and Beijing was lost, the satellites down and the trans-atlantic cable broken. Europe was on its own now, and the Space Squids annihilated city after city. He knew his duty. He had been hand-picked by Forces Spéciales and sent to the International Pan-European Research Facility B as a test subject. But to know one's duty and to feel relaxed were two different things. The results of The Program on some of his brothers-in-arms were as remarkable as the results on some were disastrous, and The Program was still on a prototype stage. Even if Doc, Viking Guy, Boffin and Coach did their best, none of them, nor he himself, could know for sure what would happen to him in the cylindric Chamber 1. Do you accept The Program? He hadn't been able to imagine how the Neuro-Reprogramming would feel. First, he reacted in fear. Do you accept The Program? No! No, no, no! It pressed its influence against his mind, trying to control him. You will accept The Program No! The fear of losing himself, the fear of becoming something else, something machine-like, something... You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will ... something monstrous, something without control, something... accept The Program You will accept The Program You will accept The Program ... something totally amazing, something totally obedient, something totally martial... You will accept The Program You will accept SIR, YES SIR! And when the Phase of Neuro-Reprogramming was accomplished, the Phase of Physical Reprogramming was initiated. The inividual unit formerly known as 'Janssens' would never be entirely the same as before, but humankind would have another Defender. Chapter one will be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/

Check out Part 1 if you need a refresher on the story: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2496-the-facility/ Two years had passed since that day back in the city. Both of you managed to get out and found refuge in a neighboring community away from the chaos that ensued from that crazy day. Remarkably though the force that consumed the city only managed to affect a small amount of men from outside its borders and never made it to this town they made it to. Even more amazing is the fact that both you and Howard returned to your normal sizes just a few hours after entering this new community. You were both found and taken to a place that was being run by a doctor by the name of Ross Bloodstone. He was intrigued by both of your circumstances and started running very elaborate tests on both of you. After determining that you and Howard were both born with genetic gifts, the doctor decided to organize a team to go investigate the building you spoke to him about and find out exactly how this whole thing started. He recruited you to go back and search to where this force was being housed inside the facility where you and Howard both originally changed. The search team was to wear protective gear that was implanted with an oxygen tank so they could breathe clean air and not worry about some freak accident from happening. You lobbied hard to get Howard put onto the search team, but Dr. Bloodstone decided against it and sent him to go work with a research company to help develop a new type of protein supplement. The doctor had occasionally spoken to you about people he had worked with in the past that would make you think that perhaps this experimental facility was somehow put together as part of one of his studies. You decided to keep it to yourself so he wouldn’t get any indications that you might question his motives. After some last minute planning, you got the search team together and shuffled them into an armored van that was meant for tough missions like this one. The drive back to the city was about three hours away from this community. The men were also told to eat something before they left to avoid the possibility of having to expose themselves to the air. The team was made up of five guys, all of different sizes and all had different levels of expertise. The one that was assigned to stay with you at all times was Brisco, a stunningly handsome former marine with a thick powerful build. From day one at the safehouse you had resided in, this man helped you cope with the after effects of the reversion process and stayed close when your lover was not available. Howard never truly understood why this man latched on to you so quickly so he tried to stay close to you to make sure that nothing unusual would happen. It is perhaps the main reason why he was assigned to another location to avoid getting into the middle of whatever Brisco’s assignment was. The other three vary in size from the lanky type with the technological skills, Marshall, to one with medical expertise, Evers, and the other one was a monstrously huge brute with the strength to fend off whoever might have come along. His name was Hery, a South American former superheavyweight bodybuilder that at one time was going to compete for the Olympia competition before all hell broke loose in his homeland. Once you arrived back inside the city, you were shocked to see that there was a substantial amount of dead men lying everywhere. It seemed really strange that not a single man survived from this catastrophe, but that there must have been a reason for this to occur as well. The team managed to find the location of the facility and parked the van directly in front of where both you and Howard emerged from just a couple of years before. You started to get out of the vehicle until Brisco ordered you to stay put while he went inside to search. The rest of the team followed closely behind him. After they made their way inside the huge opening in the facility wall, you managed to sneak out the driver’s side door and peeked in before stepping inside. The darkness inside the testing area reminded you of what had transpired just a few years before. Nothing had changed except for several portions of the ceiling which were falling down from the lack of maintenance. You got a flashlight out from your suit pocket and looked over and noticed that Marshall was already inside the control room checking out the machinery that still remained slightly intact despite the carnage that occurred from that crazy day. Both Evers and Hery had apparently gone somewhere else inside the facility since they were nowhere to be seen. You managed to find your way over to start discussing what may or may not have led to the development of this powerful force. You were trying to formulate in your mind of whether or not he was just doing things for Dr. Bloodstone or if he really was interested in figuring out how this may have gotten started on his own free will. You eventually decided to let Marshall continue his examination of the machinery and went searching throughout other sections of the building. You could hear both Brisco and Hery discussing something in the gym area not far from the main entrance of the building as you entered the long corridor that led to the front part of the facility. It seemed as if Hery was more interested in finding out if the force was still activated in the air than ever protecting the team from anything they may have encountered. The two men argued for several minutes before Brisco finally said that he wasn’t going to be part of whatever decision Hery was going to make. He even threatened to kill him right there if he decided to take his helmet off. Before they said anything else, you quickly jumped in between them to resolve whatever conflict was going to transpire next. Brisco told you to get out the way, but you refused since you figured he wouldn’t hurt you considering how he has been with you over the last several months. The huge bodybuilder made a few more taunts before unlatching his helmet and threatened to pull it off. You pleaded with him to take a few minutes to think about what he was going to do, but it didn’t work as he immediately pulls his helmet off. He took several deep breaths inhaling the air and grunted in his low South American voice. Within seconds, both you and Brisco could hear his body reacting. His suit was inflating to its limits as his muscles were expanding at an alarming rate. The marine pushed you out of the way and started shooting at Hery numerous times hitting the growing behemoth in his chest and legs. The blood from his wounds was slowly pooling out the holes in his suit before his bloated muscles started tearing their way out of the fabric and pushed the bullets out and onto the floor. He was yelling quite loudly at Brisco as he continued to swell inside up the suit as the fabric quickly gave way to the mass that continued to grow on top of the immense muscle he had already on his bulging torso. You got back up and attempted to get the marine away from Hery, but he wouldn’t budge as he tried shooting the swelling behemoth again. The bullets barely pierced his olive flesh as the expanding muscle layers pushed them right back out. At this point, the South American’s suit completely fell to the ground. He continued to expand as he grew even taller and was about to reach the ceiling above him. You decided to high tail it out the back of the gym area and into the locker area. You peered around the corner to listen from the locker room entrance and could hear Hery’s immensely deep voice rumbling against the walls as Brisco yelled in fright. The ceiling was heard crumbling as the facility shook several times forcing you to brace yourself against the wall you were standing beside. You decided to find another way out of the locker room in case the giant decided to come looking for you. This was a part of the facility that you were not familiar with since you were immediately sent back into the test area when you originally arrived there. Perhaps there was a door in the back where you could find a way out. After a couple of minutes of searching, you did find a door and opened it. You quickly rushed inside and closed it. When you were trying to turn around, you were immediately met by Evers who attempted to try and knock you out. You avoided his blow and retaliated by punching him in the faceguard of his helmet which knocked him backwards. He started to fall over but you managed to catch him before he landed on the ground. You didn’t want his helmet to come off somehow. He tried to get back up but you ended up sitting on him to restrain him while you asked him questions about his motive and what the doctor wanted him to do at the facility. Evers refused to answer any of his questions and said that he was willing to kill himself if it was needed. You knew that you couldn’t let him off that easy by taking his helmet off so you forced him up to his feet and sat him over in a chair by a window that was located close to a door which went outside. You found some thick medical tape lying close to you and wrapped his arms up in it behind his back as well as around the bottom part of his helmet to avoid any kind of accident from possibly occurring. This room appeared to be some kind of lab area with various bottles of chemicals and gases lying everywhere. You scanned the whole area and came to the conclusion that perhaps Evers was sent back here to possibly work on getting another virus developed. You heard noises coming from behind one of the walls and went over to investigate. You could hear something powering up and quickly jumped backwards to avoid the blast that ended up coming through the wall. A huge crater appeared as Evers went flying into the wall behind him. Someone came through the crater and grabbed you by the arm before standing you up. They immediately noticed that a crack was forming on your helmet and patched it quickly before any of the air entered. As you came to your senses, you noticed that it was in fact Marshall who picked you up from the ground. He told you that they needed to get out of there to avoid being found because he realized that they were being used by the doctor and most likely other members of the search team. Still a bit groggy, you nodded in agreement as the man opened the door that led outside and felt yourself being dragged away from the facility. More sounds were heard emanating from the complex behind you as the two of you went inside a nearby building to take shelter. You collapsed into Marshall’s arms once you found a safe place inside that was secure and passed out. Need to catch up on Doctor Bloodstone?: Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3533-introducing-the-muscle-doctor-part-1-of-2/?hl=%2Bintroducing+%2Bthe+%2Bmuscle+%2Bdoctor Part 2: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3600-introducing-the-muscle-doctor-part-2-of-2/?hl=%2Bintroducing+%2Bthe+%2Bmuscle+%2Bdoctor