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  1. Trio

    m/m Anídeos-Part II

    His father returned to the lab and saw the creature he unwillingly created. The creature then said, on a deep thick voice: "Hello father". "WHO ARE YOU?" "I am your son, Grant, or I used to be Grant, I'm not sure of my new name, now, I can't possibly go as Grant after this change, this metamorphosis. Thank you, Father, you did this to me, and I, in return, will transform you" "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT" "I must spread my seed, and you are bond to become my father and brother. I will transform you and you will become like me, only then can we become a family again. Only then can we be as equals. This research project is over, is a success, we will have long years to catch up, and this will be a new beginning, prepare yourself." Anthony first instinct was to run, and run he did, but Grant was faster. Grabbing his father, he gave him a hug, as if prepping his father for the upcoming transformation. Grant roared and siringes came from his nipples and into the body of Anthony. Much to his horror, the cock of Grant also injected his seed on Anthony's scrotum. It was painful and Anthony felt many things at once, as betrayal, confusion, anger, disgust. He wanted this to be over. It was a long minute, after that, Grant released his father, and said "It is done, you shall transform" And he did, Anthony couldn't handle the pain and went on his knees, crying, begging for mercy, asking why this was happening to him, Grant observed proudly. "You will enjoy this. Embrace your new being, father, you and I will be one!" The muscles of the man came to life, his pecs inflated, becoming like balls of so big, so strong, so powerful, so did his abs, every single ab enhanced and sculpted in a raw masculine way. He was roaring now, feeling pain, and resisting the pleasure. "FEEL THIS, FATHER, BECOME A GOD, EMBRACE THE TRANSFORMATION" The muscles of the man were a wonder to behold, his clothes were ripping now, slowly revealing an extremely powerful body, even more powerful than of his son. He was roaring, resisting as he could, but he knew it was a lost battle. His dogtag was revealed in the change, was hidden beneath his disappearing clothes, ripping sheets covering his powerful muscles. "YOU SEE THIS TAG, ANTHONY YOU ALWAYS WANTED THIS, EMBRACE, BECOME ONE WITH YOUR SON, WE ARE BROTHERS" "AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! UHHHH UGAH!!!!!!!!!!! I AM BEING REFORMED, I CANT RESIST ANY LONGER" "YOU WILL BE TRANSFORMED" "I WILL BE TRANSFORMED, SON" "DONT CALL ME SON, WE ARE NOT FATHER AND SON ANY LONGER, WE ARE SUBLIME SOLDIERS! CALL ME SATURN" "I WILL BE ZEUS" "YOU WILL BE REMADE" "I WILL BE REMADE" By each passing sentence, the voice of Anthony became octaves low. "YOU WILL IMPROVE YOUR PERFORMANCE" "I WILL IMPROVE MY PERFORMANCE" "YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE ENHANCEMENT WITHOUT WORRY" "TRANSFORMATION, I DEPOSIT MY LIFE IN YOU, CHANGE ME, I WANT MORE" "YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE ENHANCEMENT WILLINGLY" "I SHALL TRANSFORM" "YOU ARE EAGER TO BECOME AN ENHANCED SOLDIER" "I AM A SUBLIME SOLDIER, AND I AM ZEUS, UGAH!" "YOU ARE PROUD TO BE ENHANCED" "I KICK MY CHEST WITH PRIDE, AND I EMBRACE YOU, SATURN" "YOU WILL SPREAD THE SEED" "I WILL SPREAD THE SEED" "YOU EMBRACE THE CHANGE WITH PASSION" "I EMBRACE IT WITH PASSION" "YOU WILL ROAR" "GROOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLL" "ROOOOOAAAARRR" He tried to resist but he could not, and Anthony turned into Zeus. The transformation was over, and former father and son first bumped their chests in salutation, then hugged each other. They were reunited. Saturn knew Zeus had to release himself, so he dedicated of turning this into a rite of passage for his former father. Grabbing his huge cock, he masturbated his father with vigor, as he roared almost breathless, when he came, he licked his father seed, feeling stronger with every gulp.
  2. Trio

    m/m Anídeos-Part I

    He was just getting out of his teenage years, but still was on his youth, Grant. Was young and had a delicate face. His life on the planet was an average one. Most people are homeschooled in this new world, so was he, and he grow to be quite the smart kid. Of course, with the father he had, the scientist, a brilliant one. But he didn't know much about his father's work. Anthony worked in the military facility of the Colony, there was much to be done. The human soldiers were powerless on this new environment, and the sooner the leaders of such colony realized that, they decided that only genetic engineering could save them from the hostile alien fauna, the miasma, and the other colonies. For many years, the project was based on creating enhanced humans from scratch. Since they were babies raised to be special soldiers, with special abilities. Anthony was from day 1 involved in the project, so he settled in the military district with his family. It was an irony that Grant and his brother grew on such environment, they could be further from soldiers, his father didn't want them to go on his direction, neither his mother, neither Both of them, dedicated to knowledge and culture from the Old Earth. Such was life for them. First the scientists tried to raised the would-be-enhanced-soldiers, but that turn to be extremely expensive for the colony, only 3 specimen survived the childhood, and neither of the 3, with their strong free will, wanted to go on the military path. This was not a dictadorship, so the enhanced humans grew to be scholars such as their "parents", the scientists. Then they decided to harvest them like crops, the enhanced humans, to skip childhood and teenage years, straight to mature soldiers ready to serve. This was more successful, though still incredibly expensive, and that didn't bare many fruits, something was missing, Anthony knew that. After many trials, for him, an idea started itching his mind, a dangerous one: to turn regular humans into super soldiers, sublime ones, even. He brought the idea to the council, and it was vividly debated. But even if it was being considered, something was missing: how to transform one into such creature, flawlessly? Genesis was the missing link. When Anthony heard of the story of the creature that came to visit its old base, that claimed to be the soldier once known as Topher, but that suffered such a transformation it became unrecognizably powerful, more than a man, a God, he had to go there and study the creature. Anthony quickly traveled to the location and talked to him, to Genesis. They had a revealing conversation, where Genesis told him that he was blessed by the planet on such way he was forever changed. The more they talked, the more Anthony gathered information, and a plasma sample from the God amongst them. It was revolutionary. The missing link provided the scientists with precious information for their studies, everything was held in secrecy, with key scientists being the head of teams of research. Anthony was one of them, his house became a secret lab, while Grant and his Brother lived there, the mother was gone at this point, she unfortunately was deceased at this moment in time. Anthony dealt with the grief by focusing even further on the studies. Thanks to his dedication, everything was advancing very fast, and by each passing week a milestone was reached. At one point, one prototype, a very delicate and secret machine, was brought into Anthony's lab, and entrusted to him. This is where this should end. But it's now that the story begins. Life shifted for Grant when his mother died and his father became further and further invested into the secret project. Anthony became increasingly alienated from his family. Grant and his brother, a younger version of him, called Geoffrey, were friends, but they missed their father. Once upon a time they were allowed to visit the lab and even to study there, a couple of years have passed and that was not the case any longer. Grant and Geoffrey missed their father. They were living under the same roof, but they barely could see each other. The situation was weird, and became unsuferable for Grant, who decided to investigate why such secrecy, even if his brother Geoff told him not to put his finger on stuff that could be potentially dangerous, Grant didn't listen to him. One day, for whatever reason, his father had to leave the laboratory, and forgot to close the doors. He wasn't expecting what happened next. As soon as Grant discovered that, he knew this was his chance to start investigating, he went to the lab and saw how things changed there, it was a darker place, packed with papers and formulas that he didn't want to touch, of course. Too much information for him at the same time. Then he saw it, the machine. It was glowing a blue light, and it consisted of a very heavy cilinder of the size of a grown man, it was begging to be analised closer, Grant, still studying the papers, went for the machine, he put the papers on the bureau closer and entered in it, studying it. He didn't know, slowly, the doors of the machine were shut, and he was trapped. He was a calm guy and didn't panic, but he tried to break free, and he could not, he could do little, anyway, as soon as the doors were closed, a voice said "specimen detected, starting process". More curious than scared, his scientist side were at a hundred miles now, he observed as the chamber was filled with a very thick liquid. He was properly dressed, but when the substance reached his skin, it hurt like hell and he screamed. Now his scientist side was shut down, and he started to scream for help, beg for mercy, and to cry of panic, the liquid was rising slowly, and the process was agonizing for Grant, as he slowly observed the chamber being filled with the liquid and he skin burning with it. It was like the hair of his body was on fire with the contact with the liquid. When he was fully covered, Grant was convinced he was doomed, he was preparing to die. But he didn't die, even if it was still burning, he noticed, once the chamber was filled with the liquid, that he could breathe in the substance. Also, he couldn't see the exterior surroundings any longer, being like in front of a huge mirror. He could see himself and his clothes floating, and started to notice that his clothes were starting to dissolve, very slowly. It was like the machine was trying to convince him to be calm. Then it happened. A strong voice filled the chamber and a text was displayed on the "mirror", the voice said as it follows, over and over, louder and louder: YOU ARE AN OBEDIENT SOLDIER YOU WILL BE TRANSFORMED YOU EAGERLY ACCEPT THE CONDITIONING YOU WILL BE REMADE YOU WILL IMPROVE YOUR PERFORMANCE YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE ENHANCEMENT WITHOUT WORRY YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE ENHANCEMENT WILLINGLY YOU ARE EAGER TO BECOME AN ENHANCED SOLDIER YOU ARE PROUD TO BE ENHANCED YOU WILL SPREAD THE SEED YOU EMBRACE THE CHANGE WITH PASSION YOU WILL ROAR ... Meanwhile, electric shocks stroke Grant over and over and he transformed, too much information at the same time, he screamed in pain, in anger, in reject to every sentence the voice said, and he was being transformed, he felt pain as his muscles came to life, his weak body was slowly but surely replaced with the body of a monster. His pecs inflated vigorously, becoming enhanced by every minute, they became strong, large, imposing, defined, sculpted, and so did his abs, all 6, no, 8, no, 10 abs came to life, begging to come out of his skin, his burning skin, he smelled flesh as he was reformed, all of his body was enhanced by the transformation, his arms became huge and powerful, like the arms of the strongest soldier, his shoulders came to life too, becoming rigid and gigantic, his neck had to fight to survive on this environment, being swallowed by its pecs and shoulders. His face became enhanced, his delicate completion was no more, being replaced by a strong chin, powerful nose, vibrating eyes, square jaws. His hair did burn, and was reduced to a buzzcut, a very rudimentary one. Even his penis grew, because his production of testosterone was dramatically increased in order to sustain such body. His clothes were gone, he was a powerful machine of war now, in everything but his mind, as he refused to let the program in. But to his surprise, it was not his instinct who capitulated to the transformation, but his intelect, he thought: I am transformed. I am remade, I am no longer Grant, whether I like it or not. Look at my body, this is not what I wanted, but it's a gift from my father nonetheless. Look at my body, wow, look at the abs, at the pecs, at the arms, at the biceps! I'm not even flexing! Fuck, yes, fuck, I am a soldier now, I can swear all that I want. I feel... free! Look at my fucking cock, look at my fucking manhood! My balls, they tremble with sperm, my seed, ready to be released. I will spread the seed, since there is no way I can resist this change, it is done, forever, engraved, I shall embrace it with passion! In order to maximize my performance I should be an obedient soldier, I should be proud to be enhanced! Yes, this is my destiny, this is who I am now! I accept you, transformation, turn me into the beast I'm destined to become! And I will transform others too, I have the power to do so. The transformation ended, the liquid was absorbed by his body and a new strong skin was formed, covering his body like a soft blanket. The chamber was opened, and he roared in satisfaction, and not being able to contain himself anymore, he grabbed his cock and slowly masturbated, masturbated like he never had done in his life, he was free to do whatever he desired. He was thinking only of his new body and his vigor, his horniness, he was transformed, he masturbated, and then he came, gush after gush of cum came out of his cock, covering his body and the lab, the gush was strong, and the cum was thick and silver, he roared and licked the cum, as if believing that would enhance his new powers. His father returned to the lab and saw the creature he unwillingly created. The creature then said, on a deep thick voice: "Hello father".
  3. Trio

    m/m Becoming 0605

    Hello to you who may read this story, first of all I would like to thank Hialmar and DieselMass for the wonderful pieces and for inspiring me to write this homage to their style. Second, I was torn between making the story a full dialogue or fully description based, this is the final result, let me know if it is confusing, but well, hope you enjoy it ——————————————————— He wakes up on this cylinder, naked and there is this dog tag posing on his pec, with the number 0605. Panic rises fast.. -Hey? What is this? Why am I trapped here? What is this on my neck? Why am I naked? Let me out! LET ME OUT! PLEASE! SOMEONE!- The place appears to be desert, he keeps on screaming for help even so. Soon the cylinder starts to be filled with a thick liquid, the contact with his skin hurts him. -UGH! AAH! THIS BURNS! LET ME OUT LET ME OUT! He keeps on screaming and the liquid slowly fills the chamber. This one is dense, at a certain point it becomes hard to move, the substance slowly burns his skin and he keeps on screaming until the chemistry on the substance makes him quieter. The room is quiet now, he is floating on the center of the cylinder. It’s like he’s back into sleeping, but he’s wide awake. It all happens on his mind, where his ears start to capture sounds. -INTERNAL DIALOGUE- ”You have been selected for the program”. What do you mean, selected? I want to get out. ”Negatory, you will be made useful by the process.” Process? ”You will obey” I don’t want to obey. ”You soon will obey” I doubt that. Ah this hurts! “The process is being felt by 0605, it begins” This hurts so much! Agh! What is happening to me? My whole body, I feel stronger! My muscles, I feel them. ”You will be made present” What do you mean? Ahh! My pecs! They burn! My skin! If I could just move! Ugh! Ah! ”You will be remade” My abs! What is happening? What is this?! It hurts! Ahh! ——————————————————— He feels pain as his body transforms, and the voice keep on going. He feels pain, as his pecs expand, his abs come to life, his traps are remade, his quads become stronger. He is transforming. Ah! This hurts so good! Aahh!!! Aaaaahh!! Aa augh ”You enjoy the procedure” This is starting to feel good! Agh! My pecs, they are getting bigger! If only... Ah! My abs! I wanna feel them! ”You become the soldier” I become the soldier? ”Reprogramming your mind” Agh! This is getting better! I must... I must fight this! I need to return to... my life! Ugh! Such... pleasure! My penis is getting... is it expanding too? Ugh! It feels... stronger now! I am... a soldier! With a body like this... I should... Gah... indeed be a soldier... it’s getting... It’s getting better! Must... fight... Look at my arms! My arms! So big! So strong! Ugh! Ugah! Oh... I am... a soldier! Oh Fuck! Look at my... cock! It’s huge! I want to... fuck! My abs! My fucking cock! I need to... transform. My body! Ugah! Uhh! Uhh! UHH! I WANT MORE! I WANT TO GET BIGGER! I’m becoming... a fucking God! Tremble... humans! YES! I WANT MORE! I WANT... 0605 WANTS FUCK!!! LET ME FUCK! ”iniciating metamorphosis” WHAT THE... AAGH!!! FUCK! MY SKIN! BURNS! AGHHHH!! BOILS!!! Reform. My bones, AGAH! Expanding! Must, be, more. Must, be, monster! 0605 wants fuck! ——————————————————— He is transformed, his body is expanded, his muscles are glorious, his horns are powerful, his metallic skin increases his potency. Only one desire on his mind now: to masturbate, and masturbate others. The liquid soon is absorbed by his body and the cylinder opens, he is able to move. He jerks off furiously and groans on a thick dense voice. UGHH UGHHH FUCK MORE! 0605 A GOD! UGH UGAH! He masturbates strongly and when he comes he roars vigorously, after that, he licks every drop of cum he can, like a starving beast. He is reformed, and ready for action. He is Soldier 0605
  4. 111dash111

    no sex ESP Enhanced Solder Programme

    I’m new to writing on this forum so here goes. “What have I got myself into?” Jeff thought to himself as the drill sergeant was screaming at the platoon. Jeff had decided he would join the army awhile back as he had always wanted to be big and feel strong and needed a way to motivate himself whilst giving back to the country. Jeff was a short and skinny 5 foot 4 guy and weighing just 110pounds, a drastic difference from his brothers, all naturally lean and muscled. He had always wondered why he was the runt of the family and felt it was just him not putting in the effort. “NOW LINE UP AND HEAD IN FOR YOUR ADDITIONAL MEDICAL TESTS!” shouted the drill sergeant. They took his height, weight, fat percentage and blood, which was odd considering he already had his medical done weeks before his enlistment date. One by one the recruits did their medical, and lined up outside the medical facility. Basic training went on as normal for the next 2 weeks and Jeff had felt himself slowly get stronger with all the PT he was doing. Whilst he was doing a standard obstacle course, 2 huge muscled guys approached his drill sergeant and pointed at him. “ RECRUIT JEFF! GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS OVER HERE”, “please follow these men” the sergeant said. “Oh gosh what have i done? Did I get caught for something?” Jeff thought to himself as he followed the 2 huge guys toward a black van. One of the guys spoke and said “You’ve been chosen for a new elite squad” “There’s gotta be some sort of mistake, I’m the smallest skinniest guy in my platoon, and I am not a smart guy either” “No there’s been no mistake, you are special, one of the few” piped up the other muscled man. “Should I get my stuff then?” Jeff said worryingly. “No, you won’t be needing your old stuff, you won’t fit into them very soon.” Jeff stepped into the back of the van and they sped off. The van had no windows to see out from the back and he had no idea where they were headed. Each minute felt like hours for Jeff but they finally arrived at the destination. It was an underground facility, with a very high ceiling all painted grey, like a huge hanger but all out of concrete. Just round the corner there were at least 20 other guys, all skinny like Jeff. He was puzzled as to how this could be an elite squad, everyone was small and skinny. “Get into the formation” the muscled guy ordered. Jeff ran over and joined the formation. A big guy in a lab coat had walked in front of the platoon and started speaking. “You all must be wondering why you’re here, what makes me different to be standing here, all these will be answered in the next few hours. For now, just follow my instructions and do as you’re told. Now follow me” The man in the white coat started walking and everyone followed. “Sorry I forgot to introduce myself, I am Major Hollows, but you can just call me Hollows. I am the head of the Enhanced Soldier Programme, or ESP for short. And we will turn you into the finest soldiers this earth has ever seen. You will become the fastest, strongest, and most deadly soldiers ever created.” They soon walked into a bunk, with names on the end of each bed. On each bed were brand new uniforms, a set of boots, PT kit and what appears to be a black coloured neoprene drysuit. Here are your sleeping quarters, everyone head to your respective area, there will be a form on top of the new kit we’re giving you. Sign that and pass that to me, I will give you further instructions. Jeff headed to his bed, and picked up the form. It was a contract extension to 10 years to serve the army, and attached was a waver. “Yes, 10 years is a long time, but you will love your elite position in the army and 10 years will be too short” Jeff signed it, knowing he had nothing else better in his life to look forward to, so as every other recruit in the room. “Alright, everyone’s form is in, now it’s time to put on your new gear.” Jeff opened the box of boots,it said size 16. “This must be a mistake” he thought. He looked through the rest of his kit and saw everything was far too big, the shirts, the underwear, the pants, the socks. Only the drysuit looking thing was correctly sized. “Sir, these boots are far too big, in fact everything is too big” “There is no mistake, everyone put on your black skin suit, also known around here as a drysuit” “Once you’re done bring one set or uniform and the boots along and line up outside.” Jeff picked up the drysuit and immediately felt turned on “Quickly, take off your clothes in here and just put on the suit, you’re going to see each other for the next 10 years, so don’t feel embarrassed. Jeff hurried up and quickly put on the snug drysuit and rushed to line up with his oversized kit. “Alright, everyone follow me” They walked down a narrow corridor and through a huge thick metal gate with radiation danger signs on them. There was sure to be something dangerous inside this room. They entered a large all white room. There were many glass chambers inside this room. Each chamber was on a 45degree angle with a flat bed with straps on it. “Pick a chamber, and stand next to it, someone will assist you into the chamber. “ Jeff picked a chamber and stood next to it, there was what appears to be a diving helmet with a ball dangling inside. He also saw some hoses inside “That would explain the ports on the suit” he spoke to himself. A man in a lab coat came to Jeff. “Put on your uniform and boots then lay on the bed. Put on the helmet and fit the ball into your mouth as well” “This will supply you nutrients and there will be oxygen supplied within the helmet for you to breathe.Also, don’t worry about not being able to see out, there’s a screen inside it.” Jeff layed on the bed and placed the helmet on, following the instructions. He felt his arms being strapped down as well as his feet. This felt weird as the boots were 8 sizes too big for him. He then heard a hiss, and felt the chamber door closing in on him. The bed then angled itself to be level with the floor and the ball inside his mouth also began to expand.The screen in the helmet turned on and read “Standby” About 10 mins later, the screen switched to a video feed of Hollows with subtitles underneath. “Alright, time to explain what is happening. Your drysuit will begin filling with a liquid, so don’t panic whilst I talk. You have been selected to become an enhanced soldier as your DNA tests show you were suitable for this programme. Our programme will enhance soldiers by making your muscles grow and making you taller, with super strength and agility.” Jeff was suddenly super excited, and was really turned on. This was what he had been fantasizing his whole life, wanting to be bigger and stronger than his brothers. “Has the liquid been pumped in fully? Yes? Alright.’ Jeff felt the liquid slosh around inside his drysuit, following the empty spaces of his oversized uniform. Okay soldiers this is what will happen, there is liquid muscle inside of your drysuit that will become active once radiation is exposed. They will penetrate your skin and cause your muscles to contract, making microtears within. They will then attach themselves to your muscles and repair those microtears, becoming your muscles. This will also require lots of nutrients as your body grows, so you will be pumped into your stomach directly. This will also inevitably cause your body to grow taller as a side effect, thus the oversized uniform. It will hurt but you will be the best soldiers this world will see. There will be a countdown and the procedure will start, see you on the other side. ” The screen switched to black and the countdown began. 5 4 3 2 1 Initiating Jeff felt something flowing out of the ball in his mouth, it began gushing into his stomach, tasted like lemons. It began to fill him, until he felt like he was going to burst. Then, it happened. His skin started to tingle and his muscles started to contract, it hurt like nothing he had ever felt but it felt so good. Then the contractions became stronger, the straps holding him back from just flailing all over the place He felt his full stomach shrinking, and felt tight, his arms and legs felt extremely tight as well. He felt the drysuit shrinking, but it was actually him growing into the drysuit. His feet slowly growing into the size 16 boots. The pain began to subside, and began to fade out of his nirvana of pleasure. He felt the drysuit firmly on his skin and the uniform had fit him snugly. The screen turned on Initiating enrollment
  5. brstealth13

    Enhancements (Updated with Part 14)

    Enhancements: Part One The Beginning It had been six months since Chris's life had changed forever. A nineteen year old college student, Chris's body had always been unremarkable. He was a wiry, average-height boy, his pasty, acne littered skin stretched over his bony, muscleless figure. He was mostly hairless, save for the few stray hairs poking out of his chest and nipples and his pubic hair, which he kept mostly trimmed. His butt wasn't anything special, either; although it wasn't flat, it was nothing compared to the asses on the porn stars that Chris loved jerking off to. It was on that day, 6 months ago, in fact, that Chris had sat in his desk chair, beating off and watching porn, when it happened. He had just returned from a short jog. It wasn't that Chris hadn't been trying to get physically fit- it was just that his fast metabolism and poor eating and exercise habits needed to be overcome in order to see real progress. He wasn't bad looking, either - just altogether average. Chris thought maybe if he could get a little more muscle onto his frame, he'd be a catch. But on that day, after his run, sweaty and a little horny, he returned to his single dorm room and decided to watch some porn and have a little private fun. He shut his dorm door, which locked automatically, and pulled off his mesh blue athletic shorts and his sweat through boxers. In exchange, he put on his white Bike No. 10 jockstrap - too chicken yet to wear it out on a run, but wanting to feel how his ass and cock felt nestled in the tight straps and pouch. After sitting down, he opened up his laptop and grabbed a bottle of lube, pulling up his favorite porn video and beginning to rub at his crotch through the knit fabric of the jockstrap. As he dreamed of being as big and muscled as the studs he was watching suck and fuck on the screen, he slid the jockstrap off, lubing up his 6" cock, beginning to stroke. Moans and groans of intense pleasure filled his ears as his headphones transmitted the sounds of sex from the porn video. Chris took his jockstrap up his face, gently inhaling his own musky scent, imagining instead that his own jock belonged to one of the muscled boys from down the hall. Through this blissful fantasy, Chris didn't realize he was ignoring the loud knocks on his heavy dorm room door. It was only after he decided to change videos - he wanted to look for something to satisfy his fantasy of getting fucked in a locker room - that he heard the loud knocking and shouting from the hall. "C'mon man, I know you're in there, I saw you just got back from your run," came the voice from the hall, accompanied by more loud knocks. "I really, really need to talk to you." Chris signed, recognizing the voice. It was Evan, a guy from down the hall. He pulled his earbuds out, looked down at his lubed up erection, back to the computer screen, and finally at the door. "Can it wait?" he hollered. "I'm in the middle of something." "No man, please! I'm having a crisis here." Chris sighed. Evan was a close friend, maybe even his closest; he wanted to know what was the matter. He quickly pulled on his jockstrap and shorts, wiped off his hands as best he could, and walked over to the door, his erection quickly subsiding. He opened the door, shirtless, to a similarly shirtless Evan. "Come in, then," he motioned to his hallmate. Evan did, then sat down on Chris's black futon, which was positioned in the middle of the tiny room, facing the 32" LCD that Chris had atop his dressers on one side of the room. His lofted bed and desk were on the opposite end of the room, against the far wall, and behind the futon. Evan leaned back, spreading out on the futon. Unlike Chris, he was a muscular guy, with nice, beefy pecs and thick biceps, outstretched across the back of the futon. He too, was mostly hairless, save for a few curls of chest hair and thick tufts of armpit hair, which Chris could easily see due to Evan's provocative pose. All in all, Evan was about 6', maybe about 185 lbs. It was he who Chris had been trying to get workout tips from, although their schedules had not really lined up much to be able to go workout together. Evan was straight, much to Chris's dismay- and Evan knew that Chris was attracted to him, as Chris was the first person he had come out to, back at the end of freshman year. But it was sophomore year now, a full summer behind them to clear the awkwardness of that conversation back in May, a full summer for the unrequited advances of Chris to fade in his mind. If you asked Chris, he would tell you that he didn't have feelings for Evan any more, but deep down, he knew that he was still deeply infatuated with him. And now, on this late September Saturday afternoon, Chris groaned, "So what's wrong." "Did I interrupt you beating off?" asked Evan bluntly. Chris sighed and pressed the question. "What. Is. Your. Crisis." Evan looked up at his friend. "Well. You being the expert on gay things and all..." He looked up at Chris, who was until these words sweaty and annoyed. "I need advice." Chris raised an eyebrow. He had gotten his hopes on Evan misinterpreting signs like this before and he wasn't about to let it happen again. Evan, on the other hand, looked like was going to throw up. He didn't know how to interrupt the feelings he was having, let alone tell Chris, a guy whom he had upset deeply for not being gay, this new development in his sexuality. "Well," Evan said, gulping. "I was trying to hook up with this girl, Ashley, last night over at Sig." Chris rolled his eyes. Sig was a frat they had gone and partied at a few times as freshmen, taking advantage of the free booze offered to freshmen the brothers thought might rush. Chris and Evan did not, and Chris had not been back since. Evan, on the other hand, had friends in the frat from high school. "And it was going great," he continued. "Until things started getting, well, serious. I just couldn't 'do' anything! I mean, it was like I wasn't attracted to her, at all. Like suddenly it clicked that I wasn't doing this because I thought she was attractive, but because I felt social pressure!" "So you had whiskey dick, big deal," retorted Chris, his arms folded. "You've gotten off with girls before, haven't you?" "No, it was more than that. I wasn't even that drunk. And no, if you must know, I have not gotten more than a BJ from a girl before." This surprised Chris. Really, for all that talk, Evan was a virgin? "So what do you need me for?" Chris groaned, thinking back to the porn he was watching and how much he'd so rather be masturbating. "Well... this morning I was really thinking about it. So I tried to jerk off. I pulled up all the porn I usually watch. And I realized that all of it had really, really good looking dudes in them. I mean, big, muscley guys. I think I've been jerking off to them all along." Chris sighed. He really, really could not let himself be Evan's experiment. After all the strife and sadness he went through the last time, when he came out to Evan, he couldn't do it again. "I know, I know what you're thinking," said Evan. "But this is different. Just now, I pulled up some actual gay porn. And Chris, it was hot. Like, crazy hot." Chris's cock stiffened a little to hearing Evan say this. But he knew better. "So you thought you'd come over to me, who you know wants your hot bod, to see how real these feelings are." This whole time, Chris's computer had still been playing the porn he had been watching, but just now, it must have reached close to the end, as the quiet tiny sounds of men screaming sounds of intense pleasure could be detected, despite being played through tiny Apple earbuds still plugged into the computer. "Go on then, bring that over here," Evan said. "I'll show you." By this point, Chris was too horny to protest or keep his guard up. This was a real, actual chance to see Evan, not just naked, but jerking off? He grabbed the laptop, putting it down on the floor in front of them. Evan pulled down his own shorts, revealing his thick 6.5" cock. He lubed it up, looking over at Chris. Evan was hard as a rock. "Damn, this is hot," he moaned. The two spent the afternoon jerking off, kissing, and sucking each other off. That fateful afternoon was the beginning of their relationship. A few weeks later, they would explore each other further, Chris and Evan losing their virginity together, as Chris rode and bounced on Evan's thick member. And now, six months since Evan learned his true sexuality, the two boys were going to take their relationship to the next level. --- It was a frigid February Friday morning. Evan and Chris had driven in to the city, taking advantage of their long 4 day winter weekend, to celebrate this milestone in their relationship. After parking the car in a large garage, the two boys walked out into the quiet streets of the city gayboorhood and approached their destination. They looked up at the sign of the nondescript shop front. In blue block letters, it read "Andro's Men's Clinic". In the window, a small sign read "Enhancements available here!". "This is the place," Chris breathed, pushing the door open, leading him and his boyfriend inside.
  6. For you who like army experiments and science-fiction techno-lingo just as much as I do (but as far as I can remember, there is not yet any need to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow). This continuation could probably need more proof-reading, but here goes. Dr. Skrefsrud, the timid Norwegian, is still the narrator. That may change in following chapters. Chapter One is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/ DISCLAIMER The following story do contain a small amount of racial slur and homophobia, a small amount of violence and sexual innuendo. Please do not read further if you are offended by anything of the aforementioned. The author does not sympathize with what the antagonist in the story may do or say. Project Defender – Chapter Two We kept Jones and Bjarnarsson for observation at Infirmary overnight, and Green agreed to take the night watch. Their results in the Gym had been impressing. They lifted amounts of weight probably no other living man on the planet was able to lift. Restoring a barbell to its stand, Jones looked at Smith and László part cockily, part beaming. Bjarnarsson lumbered around after the exercises with a smile, but was able to restrain his reaction to a larger extent than Jones. All samples looked more than perfect, so we let them eat breakfast at the Mess with the others. Jones and Bjarnarsson were greeted by cheers in the Mess, and during the following meals, I found the atmosphere less hostile against our scientific team. The nicknames used by Jones began to spread among the crew, which probably was a sign of acceptance. Some of the men stared at Jones and Bjarnarsson. ’Nice of y’u ter let us leave de ozzy. Ah feel ready ter hit the iron at the gym aftah brekkie.’, Jones informed us. ’Hey, Viking Guy!’, shouted Varga – a 33 year old Hungarian test subject – ’Can you assure us, that your experiment will not shrink our balls? I want to keep mine intact!’ The men at Varga’s table laughed. ’It is rather Gospodinov’s area of expertise, but as far as I understand, the formula doesn’t replace your own production of hormones, but increases it. Why don’t you ask Jones or Bjarnarsson, if you dare?’ I smiled. Varga’s table roared with laughter. I put down my tray besides the nice Poles, Zielinski and Kowalski, and sat down. Kowalski stared impressed on Jones and Bjarnarsson. Zielinski and Kowalski were eating their egg white omelette with spinach. I had a bowl of porridge. I chatted with the friendly and polite Poles until, suddenly, a loud quarrel disrupted our concentration. It was De Vries, one of the Dutchmen, and Taylor, the Caribbean-British test-subject, who quarrelled. By the look of it, it seemed that De Vries had bumped into Taylor. The latter’s breakfast lay at the floor. ’Watch where you’re going, monkeyboy! I thought this was a project for Europeans? Who let the apes out of the cage? My granddad didn’t leave South Africa for the Old Country for this, I can assure you.’ The initially calm Taylor froze rigidly, and his gaze changed into a burning mode. The Dutchman stared arrogantly on him with his green eyes, but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. ’That’s not acceptable, corporal.’, Major Murphy said. He had swiftly left the table of honour, when he became aware of the situation. ’This is a warning. Never behave like that again. Is that understood?’ De Vries looked down in the floor, with a surly expression. ’Is that understood, corporal?’, Major Murphy roared. ’SIR! YES, SIR!’, De Vries answered. The other Dutchman, Van Gelder, approached Taylor with a concerned expression: ’I’m so sorry. Most of us from The Netherlands are not like him.’ ’I know.’, Taylor answered, ’It’s not your fault.’ The breakfast-eating men returned to their meal. Van Gelder invited Taylor to his table. De Vries had left the Mess Hall in a hurry. As usual, morning hours were full of scheduled interviews and medical examinations, and when the research team returned to The Lab after lunch, I looked at the list with disappointment. ’O no!’ Smith, Lamarck and Gospodinov looked up, surprised. ’What is it?’, Smith asked. ’Look at the list of test-subjects scheduled for this afternoon. De Vries! The man who behaved so badly in the Mess at breakfast, and was a nuisance at the gym some days ago.’ When the event happened, Lamarck and Gospodinov had already left the Mess, so I and Smith told them what had happened. Gruber lurked unseen behind the screen in the corner at the neuro-programmer, as usual. László returned from the gym, still sweating. ’The Schedule was determined long before this happened. He has to be processed sooner or later, anyhow.’, Gospodinov said. A few minutes later, Green checked the waiting room. Corporal De Vries and Sergeant Varga sat there, waiting. ’Ah. A fellow countryman! Hungarian brawn!’, László joked with Varga. The joking manner in which it was said, aside, it was very true. Like László himself, the thirty-three year old Varga seemed to be very interested in physical exercise, and genetically blessed, at that. A hint of envy could be seen in De Vries’ eyes, when he looked at Varga. We repeated the process which Jones and Bjarnarsson had endured, with only slightly enhanced settings. Gruber attentively studied the brainwave patterns of the test subjects. ’Oh! Um. Um. Um… nagy, nagy,! Ummm. Igen. Nagy. Mmmm… …Jól! Oh, um… kiváló… Mmmm… Ungh, ungh… nagyobb! Oh, oh, oh! Több. Több, több, több: IGEN! … Uh, nagyobb! NAGYOBB! Ough, oh, um, nnn, erősebb! Umngh… hatalmas, umngh… roppant, umngh… erőtejlesnek, umngh… óriásiabb, umnnngh, óriásiabb, umnnngh, óriásiabb, óriásiabb, óriásiabb, ÓRIÁSIABB! ÓRIÁSIABB!!! AH! UNGH! AAARGH!!!’, Vargas mumbled and shouted in his mask-mic, unaware of his surroundings. Under the pressure of The Program, both test subjects had mainly reverted to their native languages, and had given in to the overwhelming transformation experience. A very, very strange sound emerged from the speakers, like someone tried to stuff a leather sofa with raw meat. ’Ah! Um, keihard! Uh, uh, uhmm… onbreek…mmm, nnnn… Aan- OH! -genaam… Ja! Meer! Meer! Veel meer! VEEL MEE… UNGH! Ungh, ungh, ungh, goed, zo goed… umngh! Uhn! Heel goed!!! Umnh, uh, unnn… …ben ijzer sterk! Ungh, zal… uh, uh, tegenstand… vernietigen… Nnng… Ja! Ja! Unnnh! Allemaal… umngh, breken… EINDELOOS!!!’ De Vries had been the smaller of them when he stepped into the Chamber, but when Green had released them from their IV’s, and Gruber released them from their neuro-helmets, De Vries and Varga were of the same size, about two metres and with chests around 190 centimetres or so. Both had grown somewhat in height, but above all they had developed large amounts of well-defined and well-proportioned muscle mass. If Varga had been well built before the process, he now resembled an ancient statue of Hercules, although clean-shaven and with a buzz cut. Gospodinov and Green were preoccupied with the upcoming blood-tests, and Lamarck and Gruber watched the naked men in the same cool, objective way they would have watched a piece of cold meat for dissection on a slab. I felt awkward and somewhat threatened by the presence of the huge naked men, and I was not alone among the younger scientists to be shaken in my professional calm. A small suggestion of envy could be seen in the glance of László, and Smith’s ears were blossoming in red. With a delighted countenance, Vargas squeezed his chest muscles and biceps. Despite their maturely masculine features, both László and Varga broke up in boyfully delighted smiles, and their friendly warm brown eyes lit up in joyful mischief. They began to discuss in their own language: ’… nagyobb mint Vörös Zoltán, Molnar Peter…’ I didn’t understand a word, but they seemed enthusiastic. If the Hungarians’ eyes were filled with delight, the green eyes of De Vries were filled by something much more unsettling, in a mix of smugness and disdain. ’Don’t like what you see, Doctor Smith?’, De Vries said with a malicious smile, ’Or perhaps that is exactly what you do, don’t you?’ De Vries took a step forward, and ripped the white lab coat open from the embarrassed Smith’s tiny frame. Smith’s crotch bulged inside the fly. ’I will not allow a small fat faggot ogle me.’, the enraged De Vries said, and gripped Smith’s throat in an incredibly fast movement. De Vries lifted his other arm, and aimed for a stroke. ’I will not allow any pervert ogle me.’ Smith was suffocating. In the same moment a powerful hand grabbed De Vries’ lifted arm. It was Sergeant Varga. With the crook of his other arm, he grabbed De Vries’ neck, and tried to wrestle De Vries to the floor. The men struggled, and, since they were of the same size, the fight was even. Gospodinov and Lamarck hid in Gruber’s corner. László looked like he was considering joining the fight. Smith sat on the floor, dizzy. Jones and Bjarnarsson had taken up the habit to help the nurses with the amniotic fluid, which was heavy to carry. They now stepped inside the lab door, carrying large plastic containers, and observed the situation for a second. The next second Varga, Jones and Bjarnarsson had achieved a lay-out, and led the delinquent to Major Murphy. Jones had stayed behind while Varga and Bjarnarsson left, carrying De Vries between them. ’’ang on a mo’! Glad we could ’elp yuh, Doc. That gobshite divvy of a Dutchman ’ad ed coming. ’e be’aved like a tosser ter Taylor a’ breakfast, and, truth be said, ’as be’aved like a whopper all week, waiting tuh be marmalised. ’e orta calm down, otherwise ’e will receive a good thrashing by the entire Company. Yuh may be a posh twat, Doc, even a little bit of a pooftah, but yer our pooftah, zapping us all with yer magic machine over there, so for me it is more important tha’ yuh are a good scientist, than wha’ever makes yuh ’orny. Yuh do yer part in the war against the space squid by turning me and me crew into fuckin’ unbelievable fighting machines, an’ tha’s great. Yuh duhn't deserve ter be treated the way tha’ Dutch feller treated yuh. Ah suppose ed is flattering in a sense, tha’ yuh consider me an’ others in d’crew tuh be real bruisers. Just try ter avoid staring tuh much on me, so am Ah boss with ed.’ ’I never intended to embarrass you or De Vries or anyone else. I am, rather, embarrassed myself.’, Smith answered. ’No worries, Doc. I consider yuh a mucker nuw. Cotton me right: Ah will not deny two perfectly straight lads ter ’ave fun with each uvver, after surviving an air attack. Such things ’appen. D’thing Ah not like is ponceyness. Anyhuw, if the divvy cause up any shute again, duhn’t hesitate to tell me.’ He patted Smith carefully on the shoulder, and went. The next day Corporal Janssens, one of the Belgians, and Corporal Radu, one of the Romanians, went through the Procedure, and reacted just as well as Jones and Bjarnarsson did. Gruber decided to take brainwave samples of all specimens who reacted well to the treatment, in the hope to soon awake Soares and Johansson from their comatose state. With six successful cases, the mood in the Mess Hall had definitely improved. ’You are welcome to sit at our table if you want, Viking Guy.’, Kowalski told me at the queue with a serious expression. When we sat, eating, he asked: ’Do you think you will be able to awake Corporal Soares soon? And Corporal Johansson, of course.’ While Zielinski and two of the Czech test subjects listened silently, I explained our hopes as comprehensible as possible. ’Oi! Doc! You can’t let Jones have this advantage on me. How soon will you put me in the magic box?’ ’By the look of it, Radu’s wife will be overwhelmed of joy when he comes home. Hey there, Boffin! Can you assure all of us the same marital happiness?’ Roars of laughter. Radu throwing a roll on the man who spoke. A proud Janssens shouted: ’Anyone who want to watch when Coach measure how much I lift by now?’ When I went to bed at Hall 3-6-3, it was with the feeling of relief and optimism. From now on, everything would probably go better, without any unscheduled hiccups or accidents. I didn’t know how wrong I was. *** I awoke by a sound. Subdued noises came from the neighbouring room and the passage. I was sleepy and confused. Barefoot and only wearing a pair of pyjamas, I peeked out in the passage. It was Gruber and Varga. ’You will end this stupid joke immediately’, Gruber said in a harsh voice. ’Negative.’, Varga answered: ’You are not a part of The Program.’ ’I demand that you obey orders, soldier!’, Gruber said heatedly. ’I am programmed to obey The Program, Doctor. You are not a part of The Program.’ ’I am scientifically responsible for this Programme, soldier. Now obey my orders!’, Gruber shouted. ’Negative. You are not a part of The Program. Stay back, civilian. You are not part of this Program.’ Varga carefully pushed Gruber aside, and, oblivious of the Professor’s rage, strode away, and found me there, listening. He observed me unimpassionately for a second, and then said: ’You are not a part of The Program. You have been found attuneable to The Program. You will be integrated into The Program.’ When we entered the main corridor, I found Jones waiting there with an almost naked László, who had been pinioned with skipping-ropes from the Gym, and silenced with a towel. Something was strange with Varga’s and Jones’ eyes, like they were drugged, hypnotised or not really there. They bound a towel over my mouth. Without any comment, they led me and László to the Lab, and without further ado, they started the equipment the way they had seen us do it a couple of times. László, who was only dressed in a pair of jockstrap pants, and looked like a drowsy but angry commercial for nutritional supplements, tugged in his ropes, and was red in his face by his attempts to release himself. He was unable to speak, but his gaze viewed Jones and Varga with defiance. ’You will be integrated into The Program, Doctor Skrefsrud.’ ’This is ridiculous. Is this a joke? I am not a soldier, but a scientist. Will you now please release me and Doctor László.’ ’Incorrect. You will be integrated into The Program.’ Somewhat of Jones own personality broke through: ’Honestly, Viking Guy. With tha’ starving greyhound build of yours, ed would be bright ter pack onna few pounds o’muscle.’ I was unable to stop Jones and Varga from carrying out their insane plan. Their large and strong hands undressed me and threw my pair of pyjamas on a bench. They swabbed my skin at the spot where my subcutaneous implant was, and administered the IV. Electrodes monitoring my heart were placed at the ordinary places, the neurohelmet over my head, and the breathing mask over my face. I felt the strong warm hands of Varga helping me into the sluice. The doors behind me shut and the doors to the chamber opened. The humming increased in volume. CHAMBER ONE IS [NOT OCCUPIED] AND [WARMING UP] [Preparing for] Specimen: Dr. Skrefsrud Weight: 68 kilogrammes Height: 179 centimetres Chest: 96 centimetres Waist: 71 centimetres Arm: 35 centimetres Thighs: 55 centimetres Theoretically, I knew what to expect, when the machine began to hum softly, but to be present inside the claustrophobic cylinder during the procedure was something entirely different, than to impartially observe and document the process. Weakly, I pounded in panic against the steel and glass walls of the cylinder. But the entrapment was neither the only reason, nor the foremost reason for my fear. I knew, that soon the machine would expose my mind and my body to a Program built for highly trained soldiers, and highly trained soldiers prophylactically prepared in days and weeks before, at that. God knows what would happen if an unprepared civilian underwent the treatment. I knew my duty in this war: To use my scientific knowledge in order to help The Boys achieve their highest standard of performance, but not become a useless civilian test subject. It went against all reason – tactically and otherwise. With a gurgling sound the liquid began to pour and stream into the chamber, but the sound quickly changed into a resounding noise reminiscent of a faucet filling a tub, or a small fall streaming into a brook. The level rose quickly. My useless attempts to break free from the cylinder were soon swallowed by the near-oblivious state caused by the analgesic and tranquillising components of the IV-formula devised by Gospodinov and Lamarck. I wasn't fully aware about it, but my body was infused with the genetic modifiers, the hormonal stimulants and the highly concentrated nutrients necessary. My body braced itself, and was primed for the upcoming transformation. When I regained consciousness, I was floating weightlessly in the comfortably warm liquid, and one second of panic over the risk of drowning was quickly driven away by the reassuring hissing from the comfortably tight-fitting breathing mask. Everything was shimmering in a beautiful blue colour, and the inside of the cylinder had become almost mirror-like, only vaguely hinting about the human shapes moving or standing outside. I had been worried before. Why had I been worried before? Everything was warm, pleasant and blue-shimmering now, and very still and calm. With a whirring sound the helmet’s eyeshield lowered itself before my eyes. A black display with brightly coloured text and graphics filled my range of vision, and shut the view of the Chamber out. I saw the digital graphic charts of my present physique and the settings of the Morphogenetic Fields. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [iNITIATING] [NEURO-PROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Suddenly, something began to hammer relentlessly against my mind. No! I don't want to... No! No! No, no, no, no, oh no, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, uh, uh, uh, uh, ungh, ungh, ngh, nng, nng, nng, mnng, mnng, mnng, mnng, uh: Sir! Yes, Sir! Yes! O, yes! 101 0000… … 101 0010 100 1111 100 1010 100 0101100 0011 101 0100 010 0000 100 0100 100 0101 100 0110 100 0101 100 1110 100 0100 100 0101 101 0010… I integrated into The Program, and merged perfectly into the Project, becoming one of the test subjects, and evolving into another specimen of the new breed of super soldiers. Correction: Becoming one of us, and evolving into a part of the unit. This individual unit will obey the direction to protect the military unit and all civilians. This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. No-one will be permitted to abolish or limit the aim of The Program. This individual unit is now attuning perfectly. This individual unit of The Program is now becoming enhanced. This individual unit is now becoming augmented according to plan. Words does not suffice to describe what happened in a matter of seconds: Instantaneously I became an expert on hundreds of weapon technologies, and my ability to make fast and correct tactical decisions in a situation was intensified in an incredible way. Close combat skills I never had were now deeply ingrained in my primal instincts, and I didn't feel fear: At least not the sort of fear which paralysed in a situation. I was still equipped with the ability to recognise and assess danger. The mental and emotional turmoil of the reprogramming was fading into focused serenity again. The liquid was warm against my skin, and my body felt warm and comfortable. I opened my eyes, and saw the display still folded down before them. The outline of my present physique stood out against the black background, sketched in blue lines, and the outline of the Morphogenetic Fields was drawn in green as usual. Suddenly, someone outside the cylinder was obviously editing the standard settings, in contradiction to the usual protocol. The cursor clicked on the traps, delts, pecs, lats and every other muscle of the anatomical drawing glowing in green, and made the skeleton taller and more broad shouldered. For a second, I reacted alarmed by the changes: Someone was compromising the safety of The Program, and the green anatomical drawing was now depicting a brutally built titanic individual. The next second I relaxed: This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. Another change of settings almost escaped my attention, since the display now folded upwards: Hypertrophic radiation 300%. I could now see my blue-shimmering surroundings again. The next moment liquid blue was turned into flaming gold. I had always been absent minded. When sitting at a desk, my thoughts were always preoccupied by the studies and reports I read, not of my physical environment, my bodily posture, or my own breathing. When my legs walked through corridors at hospital or university, my thoughts and my self always wandered somewhere else. Actually, I had never been really and fully aware of my own bodily presence. It was different now. I felt my heartbeat resound in all my blood vessels, and my lungs greedily drank the oxygen-mixture hissing into my mouth from the breathing mask. And I felt how my personal awareness entirely filled up my body: my hardening torso, my broadening back, my now powerful thighs, my calves. And my arms! O, my arms! A hard, warm feeling filled my triceps’, bicep’s, the vein-covered fore-arms, and there was no part of my body, not fingers, nor toes, which was not entirely and perfectly a part of my intense, conscious, bodily presence. For the first time in my life I was aware. Present. Embodied. Physical. Me. That was just the beginning. Lightning struck. Power streamed into my being. Energy surged into my core. The flaming gold changed me, transformed my shape, enhanced my physique, transmuted the ore of my existing muscles into the steel-hard, pulsating cords and bulges of unyielding, raw, ultra-masculine brawn. I was oblivious of my surroundings now, ecstatically and deliriously consumed by The Program’s anabolic bliss. Then, this individual unit was optimised and maximised according to The Program. Strange stretch… But so pleasant. Pain. Excitement. O yeah! Height soaring. So tall, now. Lava heat in lats, broadening. Pump-like, entirely. Oh, oh, oh, uh! The feeling! Massive thighs, and fucking incredible calves. Cannonball glutes. Dense, hard, ripped, rocky, burning abs! So hard, mmmnnngh, so indestructible. Warm, heavy and insane arms. Unbreakable arms. Mountains! Pecs like armour! Titanic delts. Ridge of granite traps! Uh! Uh! This individual unit fluctuated between being entirely controlled by The Program and being aware of individuality. The desire to grow muscular may have existed in the deep recesses of the unit even before, or it may not, but anyway it now burned with this one focus: To optimise. To maximise. To be a useful instrument of this military unit. My one mission at the moment was, for my brothers’ sake, to increase my ability to run, haul, tug, lift, tear, throw, punch… The change! The powerblaze change! Growing. Hardening. Defining. Don’t stop it! Don’t end it! Raw power charging every atom! More! Unit want more! Optimise me! Maximise me! Increasing fire! Increasing power charge! Yeah! O yeah! Fucking yeah! So amazing! Pervading power… Yes! More! Unit will comply. Unit will protect. Unit powerful. Unit… mmmnnngh! Will use enhanced… Yes! Yes! … to defend… Yes! …mmmnnngh! I was losing control entirely, and wasn’t aware of which words or sounds I emitted. I dived, oblivious of the outer world, in a sea of radiant energy. I only knew that I craved to be even bigger. The separation between what was my bodily frame and the surrounding sea of energy began to blur. It felt like the entire ocean of power gushed into me. The power ocean filled me. I was the power ocean. O God! Uh, uh, grow, uh, uh, uh, unstoppable, uh, uh, uh, big, uh, uh, uh, hard, uh, uh, unh, unh, unh, power, unh, unh, charged, unh, crackling, unh, loaded, ungh, ungh, brimming, ungh, buzzing, ungh, umngh, umngh, umngh, mmmm, ah! Mmmm, ah! Mmmm, AH! MMMM AH! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! AH! AH! I AM INVINCIBLE! …! I had become a living weapon. When this individual unit regained consciousness, the liquid was fading, and the surface of the liquid was at my waist. The liquid no longer kept me floating in weightlessness, and I had to stand on my feet. My large feet felt vaguely unusual for me, but anyhow I knew that I was perfectly able to use them in close combat. The receding solution revealed to me the feeling of this heavyweight body and the faces of my team-members outside the hypertrophic chamber: Worried but awe-struck (László), embarrassed but excited (Smith) and triumphant (Jones and Varga). When only a negligible amount of remaining liquid was whirling at the bottom of the glass cylinder, it opened, and Smith relieved me from the breathing mask and the neuro-helmet. ’I don’t know what to say’, Smith murmured. I eyed one of the screens, which still reported my new statistic data in light blue letters: CHAMBER ONE IS [NOT OCCUPIED] AND [iN STANDBY MODE] Specimen [leaving chamber]: Dr. Skrefsrud Weight: 197 kilogrammes Height: 205 centimetres Chest: 203 centimetres Waist: 109 centimetres Arm: 79 centimetres Thighs: 101 centimetres ’The insurgence of the test subjects is unnerving, and their insane idea to meddle with the settings made me worry for your and Green’s lives, but it doesn’t seem to be that dangerous. Quite contrary, as it seems. Do you feel alright?’ ’Green?’, I asked. ’Yes. As soon as they had placed you in Chamber 1, they put Green in Chamber 2. Do you feel alright?’ Outside the cylinder I began to notice the full consequences of the process. I was looking down on Smith who eyed my abs before he reached up to remove the IV tube. My vivid memory of once being a hardgainer now seemed as a bad joke. My broad shoulders were melons of marble, and my chest consisted of well-defined steel-hard pecs, separated by a deep valley continuing downwards between the cobblestone abs. My upper body had achieved a perfect V-shape. I felt confident, energised and content. ’I haven’t felt better in my entire life. Trust me. This is incredible, truly incredible.’ Smith swallowed. ’You look indescribably well, Skrefsrud, although I feel a little bit intimidated by you. Will you please help me to release Green from Chamber 2, so we can discuss the problem of the test subjects.’ ’The problem?’, I asked. ’Which problem?’ ’O come on, Skrefsrud. I mean the insurgence. They can’t use the lab against our permission, and experiment on persons who are not even test-subjects. We have to awake Major Murphy or Captain Melnyk.’ ’I see no problem. You are attunable to The Program. This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program.’ ’O God! It can’t be true? You have become one of them!’ ’I am a part of The Program. You will become a part of The Program. Do not worry, citizen. You will become an enhanced and augmented unit. Jones enjoyed the procedure. Varga enjoyed the procedure. I enjoyed the procedure. You will enjoy the procedure.’ Jones and Varga observed with equal amounts of sense of duty, glee and compassion, when I began to undress Smith, who looked like a trapped animal. Intense fear shone from his eyes, when I put the neurohelmet on his head, and fastened the breathing mask over his nose and mouth. The experience of standing naked, surrounded by three insanely muscular men, of which one was stark naked and two were uniformed, seemed to involuntarily cause conflicting emotions in Smith. He sported an obvious hard-on. I pressed my powerful hand to his tiny shoulder, in order to steady him when I placed the IV tube in his subcutaneous membrane. He panicked, but his voice became inaudible when I closed the doors of the hypertrophic chamber. Next, we released Green from Chamber 2. He had reacted well to The Program, and followed it as dutifully as expected, but, by unknown reasons, he hadn’t grown entirely as much as myself. Jones, Varga, Green and myself were one in purpose when we turned around, and looked at László. During the struggle before my transformation, László had maintained a cocky and defiant attitude towards Jones and Varga, but now he sat bound to his chair with his shoulders sloped in a resigned expression. Jones let me free László from the ropes, and in silence László began unprompted to undress, and stepped into Chamber 2. His resigned expression was mixed with something else, and when I administered the IV-tube, he looked on me with an eager smile. Anticipation shone from his warm brown puppy eyes. ’I have worked out my entire life, Skrefsrud. If this is my destined way to achieve my dreams, so be it. I very much doubt, that I will resist the treatment the way you and Green tried. Bring it on, soldier! All you have, and then some. Fiddle with the settings if you believe it will benefit The Project. See you on the other side.’ Jones closed the doors, and Green activated Gospodunov’s anabolic formula. In order to alleviate Smith’s fear, the tranquillisers and analgesics were administered in a somewhat higher dose. We looked at the screen: CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL] Specimen: Dr. Smith Weight: 85 kilo grammes Height: 170 centimetres Chest: 106 centimetres Waist: 96 centimetres Arm: 30 centimetres Thighs: 66 centimetres CHAMBER TWO IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL] Specimen: Dr. László Weight: 92 kilo grammes Height: 176 centimetres Chest: 121 centimetres Waist: 81 centimetres Arm: 48 centimetres Thighs: 66 centimetres ’Which settings do we prefer?’, I asked Jones and Varga. They thought for a few seconds. ’Let’s experiment. You don’t know the outer limits of the procedure yet, do you?’ The four of us looked at the screen. After some thought, Green adjusted the balance of the nutrients slightly. Jones asked about the levels of hypertrophic radiation, and, after a discussion between myself and Green, we combined a 350% level with an increased saturation of nano-particles. We modified the morphogenetic field even further than during the processing of me and Green. Thirty minutes later, Lászlo roared in excitement. ’Make me into one of them! Make me… Yes! Make me into one of you! Yes! Yes! Make me into one of… Uh, uh, uh, into one of us! Yes, yes, YES! Sir, yes sir!’ His speech faded into guttural noise, when the proficiency and behavioural patterns were implanted into him. He hadn’t resisted The Program. We turned our attention to Smith’s Chamber. He was awakening for the reprogramming. ’Don’t meddle with the settings! Let me out! Are you still out there? The walls are like blue mirrors now. I can’t see you. Hello? Are you there? Don’t put the machine on. Ouch! I’m burning! Ah! Ah!’ We were able to see Smith from the outside of the Chamber. The translucent cylinder revealed his small, pale and portly body floating weightlessly in the blue solution like a dark-haired pallid pear. ’No! I will not! I will certainly not! Will… Mmmm. No. Not! Mmmm… No! I refuse! I… Mmmm… We will… I… Mmmm… Oh! The Program! Mmmm… We… Uh, uh, uh, ah, ah… Mmmm… SIR! YES, SIR!’ His body stiffened and arched a moment, but then relaxed. The reprogramming took over, and Smith’s pulse slowed down from the dangerous rate Green had monitored cautiously. After a while the usual humming sound began and increased in volume, until the golden lightning bombarded László’s and Smith’s defenceless bodies. Through the golden red flares the outlines of our new recruits were only dimly seen, but it was obvious that they grew in height and muscle mass. Body fat swiftly burned away from Smith under the pressure of the energy-consuming process, and hints of an emerging six pack could be faintly traced. The screen reported their changes better, than an observation of the actual chambers did, since the light from the bolts and surges was nearly blinding in the beginning of the process. The anatomic charts in blue lines were gradually moving closer to the surrounding charts in green lines. Inside the chambers László and Smith murmured, grunted and groaned without coherent sentences, lost in their intense experiences, in a manner not unknown for anyone who belonged to The Project himself. Smith’s voice had deepened into a pleasant bass. From the fragments of their moaning, it seemed like they were able to see their own reflections in the inside surface of the chambers. From the speakers connected to László’s mask we heard: ’Oh. Ah. Oh. Mmmm. Ah. Fucking pump! Nnnn. Uh. So awesome! Oh, yes. Oh, yes! Oh, my abs! Mmmm. Ah. Fucking Lesukov pecs! Coleman back! Love this feeling. Uh. Ah. Oh! Better than exp… Oh! Yes! More! Ripped! Mmmm, ah! Look at these! Mmmm. I’m so… oh! Uh. Yes! Brutal! Beyond! Nnnn! Nnng! Will defeat… Uhnnn!’ From Smith’s mask-mic we heard: ’Yes. Yes, yes. Attuned… Nnnn. Enhanced… Nnnn. Um. Augmented… Nnnm. Resist every… Nnnm. Mmmm. Immense! Mmmm. Herculean! Mmmm. Powerboast! Oh! Gigantic! Titanic! Oh! Oh! OH! This unit… mnnn… defend … Oh. Ah. Oh! So full, tight, hard, oh, uh, uh. Mmnngh, massive, mmnngh, brutal, fucking, oh, nnnh, ah. So… uhnn, uhnn.’ Through the raging glow of the hypertrophic radiation we saw László and Smith change. László had been in very good shape already, but even he was changing. He was taller now, and more broad shouldered than before. His shoulders were like volley balls, and were still growing. His twitching pecs were like basket balls pulsating of their own life. His abs were like tightening tennis balls cast of some strange uncrushable metal. In the case of Smith, the ongoing transformation was even more sensational. His once fragile and unhealthy appearance had lost all traces of bodyfat, and now loomed inside the Chamber, like some tall, overwhelming muscular living monument, purposely designed to instil wariness, respect and awe in the beholder. He was built by unbelievably powerful, still growing, muscles contracting and pulsating in the glow of the empowering emissions of buzzing hypertrophic bolts. His enormous bull-neck and insanely defined abs, obliques and serratus made it hard to believe it was the same man. His chin had grown larger and was now indented by a little dimple. He had been well-shaven at the moment he had been forced into the Chamber, but now his chin and cheeks were covered in short, dark stubble. The transformation process just went on and on, for a longer duration and with more extreme results, beyond what we had thought possible. Jones and Varga looked fixedly on the men in the chambers. The golden light from the rays illumined their facial expressions of obedience to The Program, pride over their new recruits, and awe before the intimidating and insanely bulging behemoths of bronzed steel inside the cylinders, radiating confidence, superiority, ultra-masculinity and strength. Green checked the screen. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Dr. Smith Weight: [213 kilo grammes] [AND INCREASING] Height: [209 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Chest: [210 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Waist: [118 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Arm: [82 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Thighs: [110 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] CHAMBER TWO IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Dr. László Weight: [215 kilo grammes] [AND INCREASING] Height: [211 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Chest: [212 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Waist: [120 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Arm: [85 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Thighs: [109 centimetres [AND INCREASING] The charts in blue lines almost conformed to the charts in green lines, and the difference between the charts diminished every second. The grunts and moans from the recruits changed into bellowing roars of excitement. ’Big! Big! Big, big, big, big, big, oh fucking ah!’ ’Process intense! Uh, uh, uhngh! Affirmative!’ ’These… Oh, yeah! And these… O my God!’ ’Oh, in-du-ration … of … mnnngh! Ah, oh, uh! Achieving!’ ’Uhnn, uhnn, uhnn, ah, oh, ah, ah. AH! AH! AH! Yes! Yes! YES! YE… AAH! AAAH!!! THE POWER! …!’ ’Optimising! MAXIMISING! Nnngh, mnnngh, AAH! AAAH NGH!!!’ The humming sound from the chambers subsided, the thunderstorm in gold abated, and the fluid flushed into the draining gutter. When the chambers had become free from the liquid, the test subjects stepped outside. *** For me and Green it was obvious that we now had enough useful data about a healthy way to execute the Procedure. ’Lieutenant Jones. The data needed for reawakening of Corporal Soares and Corporal Johansson are most probably gathered by now. The Program demand their integration and reinstallment.’ ’Yes, it does, Doctor Skrefsrud. This will be undertaken.’ While Jones and László went to Infirmary, the now uniformed Smith looked at his goggles on the desk: ’I have no use for these anymore. My sight is perfect after the morphogenetic treatment – a positive side-effect we hadn’t considered.’ He grabbed his spectacles with his huge hand, and crushed them into pieces, throwing the remains in the recycling boxes for glass and metal. A few minutes later, the thuggishly built Jones held Soares’ fragile and defenceless body in his powerful arms, with a concerned and protective expression. He cradled Soares’ unconscious body carefully, and gave me the impression of an alpha male wolf protecting a wounded cub. Similarly, but even taller, and with his brutal build, László loomed at the far end of the Lab with – the already slightly transformed – Johansson. Only a man built like László could have been able to carry Johansson on his own. The synthetic amniotic fluid in the chambers was replaced by a cleaning chemical and emptied. The machines were already warming up for another step for The Program and some of its recruits. Several hours remained of the most eventful night of the experiment. The story continues in https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7120-project-defender-chapter-three/
  7. Hialmar

    The accident

    It is very hard to keep any level of originality within the MG genre. This short one is fairly similar to Project Defender and The third report. On the other hand, those of you who like The accident, might find these two other stories fun reading. The accident "Larson, will you please close the vault door?" Larson, the lab assistant, ensured himself, that the test subjects were standing on safety distance from the massive door, and pressed the button. The machinery began to hum. More than twelve centimetres of rubber-coated steel with inserted lead-plates closed behind the test subjects, and the massive cylinders of the lock sealed the chamber hermetically from the outer world. The voice of Dr. Freudenberger turned to address the Brigadier: "The safety mechanisms are rigourous. When the door is locked, and the contrapment is set to active mode, the door will not open again, until the procedure has run the entire protocol. In the beginning, safety concerns for the test subjects weighed against this solution, but workplace safety for the research team, which dwell in the presence of the chamber much more often than the test subjects, weighed in favour of this solution. For every experiment with a living human specimen, the team run dozens of experiments on organic samples." There were three test subjects inside: Swanson, Korhonen and Rasmussen, and the medical team wanted to compare the individual reactions of the specimens to the procedure. It was the third treatment of these servicemen, and all three had reacted very well to the first treatment, at least from a purely tactical point of view. Larson was worried, from a non-tactical point of view. The armed forces of the three neighbouring countries wanted to enhance strength, speed and resilience of their special forces, but Larson thought, that the other team members and the officers responsible didn't take other aspects in consideration. From an academic angle, it was amazing to be a part of a team of international specialists from several backgrounds in medicine and physics, but it was also slightly unsettling and humiliating to be in the presence of all these fit and confident young men from the special operations units. Larson was short and lean, and though he lukewarmly spent some time at the gym each week, he never got any results. He knew, that he was a competent expert in his field of research, but the asserting behaviour of their test subjects caused him to feel shy, inadequate and uncomfortable, when they were around. Korhonen was rather nice: A big, stocky Finlander with a great sense of humour on the rare occasions he chose to talk, but Swanson and Rasmussen had given expression to a rather smug and roughhousing sense of humour, when they ate lunch with Larson in the cafeteria. It didn't seem like the improved performance had caused Swanson and Rasmusson to become less arrogant – rather the opposite. They were impressive. There was no doubt about that. They had already been impressive, before any of them had undergone any treatment, but the repeated and gradually more intense exposure to the procedure had turned the three soldiers into beings who could have stepped out of a bodybuilder's fever dream or a drill-sergeant's homoerotic reveries. They were now around two metres tall. According to readings from the chamber, the third treatment was now increasing their weights to between 160 kilogrammes (in the case of Swanson) and 200 kilogrammes (in the case of Korhonen). Their upper arms were well beyond 60 centimetres at the end of their second treatment, and the team was now able to watch their arms grow further at a visible speed. And these colossal chests! * * * A few days later, Larson was running a few routine experiments with organic samples, while the rest of the team was preoccupied in the lab next door. As the assignment was fairly standard and humdrum, he was becoming absent-minded, and was taken with surprise, when the door closed behind his back. It was Korhonen and Swanson, which was strange. "Oh hello. Didn't expect you here today. I thought you would find it boring to watch me work?" "There was a gap in our schedule." It was Swanson who spoke. Korhonen stood silent and looming inside the closed door. Larson's feeling of awkwardness returned in the presence of the impossibly powerful soldiers. Their camo trousers were green in several shades of green. Their impeccably polished army boots shone glossily. Army tank tops struggled to contain their V-shaped (or, in the case of Korhonen, bear-shaped) torsos, and he could see the visible outline of their six-packs through the fabric. The sides of their heads were clean-shaven. Swanson had left a jarhead buzzcut of golden stubble on the top of his head, while Korhonen sported a tow-haired short mohawk. Their repeated treatment inside the chamber had caused their jaws to become powerful. Larson possibly let his imagination run away with him, because he had read their test-results, but he could swear, that the testosterone-level in the room increased because of the presence of the two special operatives. Larson felt inferior. "Just allow me to expose this sample, okey? We can chat while the equipment run the protocol." Larson entered the chamber, and put the petri-dish on the allotted surface. What happened next, released thousand thoughts in an instance, and panic rose. The security door closed, and he could hear the cylinders move into place in the robust lock with a loud click. He was well aware of the safety mechanism, and he could hear the machinery warm up for the scheduled exposure of the organic sample on the small table. The presence of an un-scheduled unsuitable human specimen never meant for processing was neither acknowledged, nor of any concern. The equipment wouldn't switch off and cool down, until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Panic overwhelmed him, as he heard the hoses emit gas with increasing fervency: The nanite gas with the DNA-altering substances. He tried to hold his breath, but even without the rising feelings of terror, he couldn't have kept his breath for the entire time anyhow. The formula entered his lungs, entered his bloodstream. Larson screamed. He could see Korhonen and Swanson outside, standing with their camo-clad legs wide apart, and with their bulging arms crossed over their massive chests. Swanson tried to say something, but Larson couldn't hear any words through the thick and green-tinted security-glass fortified with a metal net. Korhonen tried to use body language. Pointing at Swanson. Pointing at the button, which closed the door. "Pressed". Pointed at Larson. A gesture with his arms, like someone was flying? No: Growing. And then pointing at Larson. Korhonen smiled and made a thumbs up. Swanson smiled, too. There was smugness in that smile. Larson couldn't take it in. Everything he knew was fear. The humming was thunderous now. Humming. Thunder. The next second, energy erupted and hit every cell in his body. The hypnotic program began to run, and letters ran rapidly on the glass. Subliminal letters. Reprogramming him. The hypnotic subliminals burrowed deep into his soul. Fear waned away. The unit took his program in, and accepted it. The enhancement happened. The unit embraced change eagerly. The unit was proud to be enhanced. Proud to be a specimen. It took a couple of deep breaths and inhaled more of the gas, that filled the chamber. The unit knew, that the gas would make it more enhanced, and increase its abilities. The unit's brothers in arms stood outside, and looked pleased. It felt good to cause it's brothers in arms to look pleased. The unit was bigger now. It adjusted its stance, but, even then, its legs were beginning to rub each other. It felt funny, but it was of no concern. The unit was eager to become an enhanced soldier. With his brothers in arms. They stood outside. They looked more than pleased now. They looked proud. And amazed. Its brothers in arms were in awe of the unit's progress. Triceps rested at wide, huge and firm lats, causing the unit's arms to hang wide at its sides. The unit could feel its back harden, widen, become indurated. The hypnotic subliminals continued to scroll swiftly in blue, phosphorescent letters on the glass. It felt good to take the programming in. Assess. Protect. Defend. Neutralise. Fight. The upper arms felt so hard now, bulging obscenely, and probably approached the same size as the brothers in arms outside. Or even overshadowing them. Bigger! Yes! Even bigger! Huge! Brawn! The chest felt engorged, and impossibly pumped. Present. Assertive. In control. Dominant. Superior. Scientists entered. Scientists panicked. One of them staring wildly, not knowing what to do. Not in control. Undecided. Unlike the unit. The unit felt in control. It accepted the procedure. It allowed the procedure to run the entire protocol. The door wouldn't open until then. The unit was ready to stay inside until entire protocol had run. Proud to be enhanced. Improving himself. A scientist pounded weakly with his bare fists against the security glass. Another one pressed buttons on a display. Didn't they know, that the glass was in place for security reasons? Didn't they know, that the door wouldn't open. Until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Its brothers in arms forced the unnecessarily upset civilians out of the room, and locked the door. One of them changed the contrapment's settings. The power buzzed more intensely now. The gas hissed louder now. Something else happened. The unit was dimly aware, that it had known what would happen in a dim and distant past, but it couldn't remember. So long ago. Another person. Another man. Another unit, then. It was now becoming what it was programmed for. It was becoming bigger than its brothers in arms. It felt good. Confidence and superiority grew. Physique grew. Strength grew. Granite-hard muscle-tissue grew. Steel-hard brawn grew. Power grew. So big now! Power was crammed into its body. Irrupting its muscle fibres. The body was a passive receptacle of raw, pure, undiluted, masculine POWER! One of its brothers in arms was wide-eyed now, and had to sit down on a chair outside the treatment chamber. The other one watched the empowerment inside the chamber happen, with a broad smile at his face. The unit was immersed in the process of empowerment. It now towered over its brothers in arms, and its muscle mass far overshadowed their prowess. It inhaled the testosterone of its own sweat, that filled the chamber. Its heartbeat drummed inside its ears, and was felt at its temples, but there was no end to the process, yet. Not until the procedure has run the entire protocol. Every cell of the unit's body was bombarded by relentless strength-inducing POWER, and it inhaled the very eruptions of that raw POWER. Becoming power. Becoming mass. Becoming a mountain of hefty indomitable meat. Titanic prowess. Bulging steel. An engorged, cocksure being of behemothic power-mass. The unit was no longer aware of it, but, outside, its brothers in arms were increasing the effect of the procedure even further. It wasn't aware of it any longer, as it moaned. It grunted. It roared and bellowed in power-crazed abandon. All it knew was the irrupting force, the increasing magnitude, the cumulation of growth, the swelling fibres, the hypertrophic gains, the exploding mass and the unlimited power, as it increased in a never-ending spiral upwards. Raw. Pure. Undiluted. Masculine ... POWER! The procedure wouldn't stop. Not until it had run the entire protocol.
  8. Hi everyone!!! Hope you enjoy my new story. Ive actually written the entire thing as one long story, but I'm going to break it up into portions since it will be much easier to read that way. Hope you like it. I got the concept from guy Ive been chatting with on here, Mr Alice, and then just let my horny post-workout self do the rest. I have two endings... one that is crazier then the other, but still not sure which one I'm going to post. We'll see!! Enjoy!! I Want What I Want Part One *** Top Secret *** Official Transcript of recording found at Ground Zero: New York State. For clarity and ease to the reader, moments where only action takes place as well as lapses in time will be notated. Although encrypted, this file MUST be deleted once reading is completed. When the full examination of recordings has been finished, you may request to view it. approval will be made on an as needed basis. Time Stamp - Start of Recording. Friday February 15, 2019 7:19 pm. Professor Grant Jennings: Okay. Hi. I figured this might be quickest and easiest way to get the information out. What I’ve helped unleash on the world... the destruction... the deaths... I don’t know how to stop it... I can’t stop it, so I’m hoping someone, with the help of this recording might be able to... but I doubt it. Maybe I’m simply doing this to ease my own conscious. That’s probably most likely what this is. Please know I’m not a horrible person. That’s not how this started. I wanted to help. I really did. All I’ve ever wanted to do was help. I’m going to edit together all of the recordings I took, and in some instances where no recordings are available, I’ll simply have to tell you what happened. You’ll have to trust me that all of it is true. Why would I start lying now? This is being filmed on my IPhone, but it will also be instantly imported to my cloud drive. My name is Grant Jennings, and at 37 I’m the youngest, and in my humble opinion, the most brilliant designer and programmer of nanotechnology living at the moment. Living... As you may know... or maybe you don’t, there has been many advancements in DNA or gene editing but on very small levels. Malcolm Kind Laboratories, who had become aware of my work with genome editing or gene editing nanotechnology, had hired me right out of Grad School. The work I had been performing with MKL has been in perfecting technology to promote the growth of missing or ill formed limbs, skin, and in some cases, internal organs. It was all a dangerous and highly guarded project that anyone at MKL would have denied even existed. We had incredible success on mice, monkeys, and finally on a gorilla where we were able to regrow more then half of its body. It was going great at MKL, but a little too slow and safe for me. I’ve never been a very good team player, and the idea of working for a lab bothered me somewhat, but the money they supplied had enabled me to have quicker advances then I had even shared with them. If they wanted real progress, they’d needed to break into my office in the basement of my home; that was where real magic was happening. Unfortunately, my boss was well aware of that. I was first summoned to Malcolm Kind’s office in NYC two years after my initial work had begun. I’ll skip all that you know about Malcolm Kind. Yeah, he was the richest man living, yeah he could be a tough business man, but I never saw that side. What I did see was a man scared of death... and when we met, he was indeed dying. His body was riddled with cancer, and all the finest doctors in the world gave him less then five months to live. ** An explosion rocks the camera and sends Dr. Jennings to the floor. The lights flicker on and off for a moment, but then come back on ** DJ: I have to hurry. Okay. All you need to know was MK was dying and he wanted my help. In exchange of a sum... a large sum... he wanted me to use him as the first human Guinea pig using my technology. He didn’t just want the cancer destroyed... he wanted all of his internal organs renewed... reinvigorated. And to make a long story short... I was able to do it. In a fairly short period, all of MK’s internal organs were that of a healthy twenty year old. Money and science had helped him beat cancer and partially beat the hands of time. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from being killed in a skiing accident one year later. That is where Benjamin Kind enters the picture. Three weeks after the funeral of his father, Benjamin summoned me to his father’s mansion outside the city. I had never met Benjamin before, but had heard of him as the much loved but much misguided only son of the trillionare. We met in the library over coffee, and after a few formalities with the 34 year old, he came right down to business. “My father,” he said, “trusted you with his life. He told me everything that you did for him... and I’m forever grateful that you were able to help him in the way that you did. Now that he’s gone... I also want your help... but more in a vanity project sort of way.” “ At this moment I’m the richest man alive. I have everything I could ever want, except one thing: an incredible body. My father didn’t pass on the best genes. As you can see, I’m short, overweight, balding, and have awful skin. I’m willing to give you 60 million to change all of that. Make me into what I want to be.“ I remained quiet while he talked, not that he gave me a chance to get a word in anyway, but the thought of 60 million dollars??!! I could finally do what I wanted to do. I could help my family... assist brilliant kids who didn’t have the resources for good schools or higher education. I could do so much with 60 million... “I blame my parents for my shortcomings. They should have been wiser with who they reproduced with for the sake of the race, but unfortunately they hadn’t thought about that. So, it’s up to you and I to fix all of their mistakes. You have the brains, and I have the money.” “So... Where would I want you to start? You’re a guy so it probably will only take you one second to guess what the first trial I want to be. I’ve been dreaming of this for years... I’m going to be honest with you, Grant. My cock is nothing but small to average. It’s about 4 inches in length and 2” in girth when erect. When soft, it isn’t even worth measuring it’s so small. So, I want you to change that.” Benjamin has been pacing around the room while he was talking, but now he sat next to me... so close I could smell the coffee on his breath. “In my pants, Grant, I want a real ass ripper. I want the kind of cock that would make another guy stop and think twice maybe three times whether or not he wants me to go through with the act of letting me fuck him. My cock would make it nearly impossible for a guy to give me a blow job because the head itself is just so damn thick!! No matter what I wear, my VPL is always visible, and wearing a speedo or even square cuts is impossible due to there not being enough fabric to cover my meat and balls!! I want a cock where, when I step up to a urinal, I stand back so everyone can catch a good glimpse of my massive horse meat and let loose a stream that would make a fire hose jealous. I have enough money not to care what the world thinks… and I want to be a freak of nature… you have no idea how freakish I want to be… and my cock will be the starting point.” “Two years ago I found this picture online... “ Benjamin pulled out his phone and scrolled through it until he found the picture he wanted to show me. “I think it was on Tumblr, when they could show such things... It’s my dream cock. It’s obviously morphed and doctored, but it’s length and girth and... sheer power is simply incredible. I must have jerked off a thousand times to this picture just imagining what it would feel like having it between my legs... feel it’s pull when soft... feel how heavy it is when hard. Yeah...only something like this will do for me. I want you to give me this.” He stopped talking and waited for my response. “Mr Kind...” “Ben. Please.” “Ben... of course it’s possible. It’s just... I’ve never...” “You never rebuilt a whole man’s insides, but you could do that for my father. You’re a brilliant man...” “Thank you... it’s just...” “60 million transferred into your account right after this is done... and then One hundred and fifty million, transferred after you give me the body I want. What do you say?” What do you say to that? You say yes!! 60 million to give a guy a huge cock he’s fantasized about, and then 150 to give him a great body? Who would ever say no to that? What harm was there in giving him what he wants? Now you all are paying for my greed… “Great!! We’ll start tonight. I’ve had portions of the lab closed and everything you’ll need transferred into the basement. I also took the liberty of having your clothes and personal items brought to the house so you can start prepping everything that will be needed.” “How did you know I was going to say yes?” “ I wasn’t going to give you the option of saying no.” That night, I infused Ben’s body with 15,000 microscopic and computerized “viruses” that would invade and alter his system as required. It was a long process for him to sit on his ass as the drip delivered 15 million dollars worth of technology induced fluids into his system. Yes. 15 million dollars, but that was a drop in the bucket for MKL. They’ll easily be able to get that money back come tax time... if there ever is a tax time again...I tried to distract him with Netflix, but he continually found it difficult to sit still. Four hours after the initial delivery began, and the last drop of LRS was in his system, I brought the ‘bots’ online. Although it was late, Ben wanted to continue with the first trial, but the ‘bots’ needed to map his entire body first. That was completed around 5:00 am the next morning. Here is what it looked like. ** Dr Jennings moves the IPhone. On a computer screen are two images. One is a naked 3D rendering of Benjamin Kind’s body. The other is another rendering, this one showing the interior: bones, veins, organs, etc. ** Fucking amazing, isn’t it??!! Even to me it’s scary how accurate it is. The ‘bots’ had gone through every mm of his body, reading and processing his DNA, body mass, bone density, organ size and density, until they had a complete working map. As he looked at it the next day, all Ben could do was comment how easy it was to see his flaws reflected on the screen back at him. That afternoon, preparing for our first trial run, I went through the diagnostics to verify that all of the ‘bots’ were still online and ready for their commands. Everything appeared to be in working order, and all of the bots were signaling back to the host which meant everything was online. Perfect. After that, I took the image Ben had given me of that massive cock and balls and dragged the picture from my desktop into the upload portion of the program. Once the picture was imported, I let the program know exactly what organ it was so it would be able to properly judge proportions when it created the 3-D image. This program I had been working on at home could take any image of a body part, map it, create a 3D rendering, and come up with the DNA it would require to create it... alter the users original system to accept it as if it was always its own... and grow it. In this program, I had a library of approximately 50,000 different body parts to pick and choose from, or you could upload a specific one. This library could also help to build a proper image even if you only have a front or side view using the examples in the library. We only had a front shot of that cock, but once the program knew what it was, it was able to put the pieces together and create the complete thing. I’ll show you a picture of it. ** Dr Jennings positions the IPHONE in-front of the computer screen. ** There you have it. The 3D image of Ben’s monster cock. The statistics put it at 12.8 inches by 7 with the glans being 3” long and a whopping 8” thick. A thick finger-sized vein runs up the right side of it, with additional sizeable ones branching off of it. The testicles were simply enormous as well, about the size of kiwis. It’s was massive... so sizeable that... fuck... would Ben think it was too much even for him?? No way!! It was exactly what he always wanted... what he had dreamed of. But first, he required some alterations to be made.... to improve upon it. First he had me edit the function of both testes to ensure they produced a nearly unthinkable amount of both pre and cum. He wanted to be leaking like a faucet when hard and blowing like a volcano when he ejaculated. Okay. That was easy to program. Then I took the cock rendering and had it merged it with his DNA. Moments later, it showed up on his 3-D rendering. As soon as Ben saw it, he began hopping up and down like a kid at Christmas. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck yes!!! Look at that!!! Fuck!!! I want that soooo bad!!! That cock and balls will be the most ultimate part of my body... as if the rest of me didn’t grow because it was too busy growing this GodCock!! Fuck it! That’s what I’m talking about!! Just... maybe a little bigger.” I shifted the size to make it 13.2x7.5 with a head 4x8.5. “Much better, Grant!! Love it more freakish!” Once he was happy with it, I had the computer write the command to alter his DNA to grow what he wanted. It took about 2 hours to process. Longer then I had anticipated, but the entire strand was finally complete. ** Dr Jennings points the IPHONE at the screen again ** As you can see from the updated 3D image, the muscles in his groin area had become enlarged to enable his new cock to stand at attention when hard. Also, and this was surprising, you can see when soft that it had a foreskin that was only able to cover about half of the head when soft. That hadn’t been programmed, which was strange, but being a guy who’s cut, Ben loved the idea of having foreskin. He thought it would be a new experience and one he was really looking forward to. Hell!! Having that whole massive cock and balls was going be a new experience for Ben, and one he couldn’t wait for. So... Ben wanted to know... what were we waiting for? The DNA code was prepared and the bots were ready to alter the strands already in his body. All I needed to do was type in the command and it was a go. With one command I did it. With one command I began the downfall of our planet. Every nonobot in Ben’s body was now working in tandem to alter his DNA and replace it with the one where he would possess that cock. I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take. The trial tests on animals took a few hours before visible signs of change were obvious, but never having done a full test run on a human made the timing an unknown. Ben was horny from the get go. He talked about wanted to jerk off right then and there, but he waited. “I never want to touch that little cock again. Soon I’ll be rid of that mistake and replace it with one fit for the man I’m gonna be.” Those were his very words. I remember them like they were yesterday. We waited and waited, Ben wondering if everything was working properly, and I kept informing him that it was. Finally at 11:38 pm, Ben let me know that something was starting to happen. For scientific purposes, I recorded the entire thing. Here it is. None of this footage has been altered. ** Here Dr Jennings has attached an additional file timestamped at 11:40 pm. Benjamin Kind is sitting on the couch of what is presumably the makeshift laboratory. He is naked. Sweat is beading on his forehead. He appears anxious and excited. ** ⁃ Describe what you’re feeling for me, Ben. ⁃ Okay. About ten minutes ago I started feeling a little something in my balls. I don’t know how to describe it... but it felt like an engine starting up. Now it’s only getting stronger. I feel like my balls are... ugh!! Damn that hurt. It’s really getting strong now. It feels like my balls are just churning away... filling up... getting heavier. If you look at them, they do look like they are slightly bigger in size. Not by much but a little. They... fuck!!! This is really starting to hurt now. The feel like their swelling... growing... Grant... look!!! My balls are!!! Fuck!!! They’re growing!!! Buddy!!! Look.. you can totally see that they are... Oh yeah!!! I’m... finding it harder to talk... I just feel so.... so horny. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking horny in my life!! Argh!! It hurts. It hurts a lot. It feels like I’m getting kicked in the groin... over and over again... but it also feels so good. I don’t know if you can understand... but it feels... fucking amazing. ⁃ I’m sure you can see, Grant, but my cock... it’s getting so hard. It’s never been this hard before in my life!!! And my balls... you can totally see now that they are much larger. They’re both pulling down on my sack. Blowing it up like a water balloon. ** Benjamin laughs as he winces in pain. ** ⁃ Who would have thought getting bigger balls would hurt so damn... FUCK!!!! Look at the size of these bad boys!! I can grip one of them with my hand. It’s like an XL egg right now. ** Benjamin Kind closes his eyes and starts to breathe heavily. ** ⁃ Fuck fuck Fuck!!! ** A large amount of pre-ejaculate squirts out of Ben’s penis. ** ⁃ Oh my God!!! That felt amazing!!! Shit!! It shot across the room!! ** Benjamin Kind laughs ** ⁃ I can already feel it building up again. Oh God!! Oh God!! Here it comes!! **. An even larger amount of pre-ejaculate squirts from Ben’s penis ** ⁃ Fuckin hell!! What the fuck is... AHHHH!! ** Benjamin grabs onto his penis as it shoots squirt after squirt of pre-ejaculate. This continues for 10 ejaculations. Still breathing heavy, Benjamin stands and begins to pace around the room ** ⁃ My cock and balls are growing!! I can’t fucking believe this... ⁃ Maybe you should sit down, Ben ⁃ This is almost too much... no! It’s not enough! I fuckin love it!! Here it comes again!!! ** Benjamin falls onto his knees and begins to moan loudly. Ben’s penis begins to squirt pre-ejaculate in larger and larger amounts until it begins to look like a constant stream. His penis continues to throb over and over, noticeably getting thicker. Benjamin wraps his hand around his penis and begins to stroke it. ** ⁃ I... can... hardly... speak... My balls are... sending out... a continuous river of pre! Is this... supposed to... happen... ⁃ Ben… come over here and sit down… This could be a complication from altering the testicles processes… ** Benjamin laughs while looks down at his penis and tries to control where it is spraying. ** ⁃ This is gonna... be a... bitch for the... servants...to... clean up... tomorrow!!! ** Benjamin laughs even more. He watches as he strokes his penis, smiling at the camera. ** ⁃ Can you see this, Grant?? Every time it squirts it’s getting thicker... FUCK!!! Oh yeah. It’s getting much thicker. I can feel it... argh!!! I can feel it... ** Benjamin’s penis abruptly stops flowing. ** ⁃ What the fuck?? Benjamin closes his eyes tight, starts to pant, and scrunches his whole face as he screams; His entire penis begins to swell like a water balloon at bursting point, when a massive amount of pre-ejaculate is suddenly emitted from his penis. This continues for nearly ten minutes of the recording.** ⁃ I can literally feel and hear the flesh ripping and repairing itself as it gets thicker and more eminence. My heart is beating so fast... more and more blood keeps getting pushed into my cock. Fuck!! Look at how thick it’s getting. I can hardly get my hand around it!! I fuckin love this, and I love the fact it’s only getting bigger!!! ⁃ Here it comes again... even stronger!!! My balls are churning more and more... I’ve never felt anything like this before. I can actually feel and hear my balls churning!!! Look at them!!! I don’t think I can even close my legs anymore... I... ** Benjamin grabs onto the couch as he begins to arch his back ** ⁃ It’s getting... so heavy!!! I can feel it starting to pull on my groin. It has to be at least 7 inches long now. Five more to go!!! Look at it!! So thick!! Hah!! I can’t even get my hand around it now at all!! Look at the space between my thumb and middle finger!! This would tear a guy up already... and it’s not even as thick as it’s gonna be. ⁃ This whole room stinks of bleach!! I don’t think there’s a surface I haven’t covered in pre. It just doesn’t stop coming! My body just keeps producing more and more... an endless supply... forcing my cock and balls to just keep growing. ⁃ You’re a fucking genius, Grant Look at this thing!!! Come on, baby!! Keep getting longer!! Keep getting... ⁃ FUCK!!!! ⁃ My cock head!! It feels like its gonna rip in two!! Blood just keeps getting pumped in, forcing it to swell. Argh!! The piss slip is starting to tear... getting so much longer as the head takes over the growth... getting so massive! I’ve never seen a head so meaty. The piss slit has gotten much longer... and keeps ripping to accommodate the size of my head. Look at me covering the head with my hand!! It’s thicker then my palm... so bulbous and still growing!! ⁃ Fuck!! A shot just went through my balls like lightning. It’s all happening so much faster now. My sack has nearly doubled in size to accommodate the two kiwis residing there. And my cock... two hands doesn’t even start to cover it!! ⁃ Growing so quickly now. One second it’s nine inches, then ten!! Keep growing!! Keep growing!! I’m becoming a total freak with a cock like this... but I love it!! Damn!! Where’s all the blood coming from to fill this thing??!! ⁃ I need to fuck! I need to fuck sooo bad. I need to fuck over and over again... I don’t think I’ll ever really be satisfied again! I’m going to always be constantly horny. ⁃ Here comes another surge!!! Here... it... FUCK!!!! Growing so... my voice?! What’s happened to my voice?! It sounds like it just dropped!! How can that... there!! It’s happened again!!! My voice is getting so deep... so masculine... sounds like it dropped an octave!!! so... FUCK!!! ⁃ I’m thicker then 2 Liter now... my voice just oozes sex!! I love it!! ⁃ My cock looks exactly like the picture!! Even two handed I barely cover it! ⁃ Something else is happening... my balls are churning more. Can you hear that?? So loud!!! My cock is nearly 13” and so thick!!! So... thick!!! My balls are even bigger then kiwis! Swelling even larger. No way I’m gonna hide any of this in trousers! I don’t think I’ve even got underwear that will fit this beast!! ⁃ So hard... so colossal... just looking at it makes me want to get fucked by it! I want to suck it... get fucked by it... over... and over... and over... ⁃ My cock and balls are pure sex. Fuck... I’m pure sex!! I think I’m... I’m gonna... balls churning more... I’m gonna blow... need release... need to empty these... ⁃ FUCK!!!!!!!! ** Benjamin Kind begins to ejaculate continuously for eight minutes. During this time his cock continues to lengthen and thicken even more, the head blowing up to unthinkable proportions. As his ejaculations begin to become less frequent, Benjamin keeps stroking his penis and laughing. When he speaks again, his voice rumbles in a deep bass. ** ⁃ It worked even better then we thought!! I’m even bigger then predicted. It’s thicker then my arm! I have the monster cock of my dreams!!! My voice!!! So deep... so sexy!! Like my cock!! I cum like a fire hose, and I’m as hard as a steel girder. It would take four of my hands to cover this cock!! You’re a fucking genius! And if you can do this... imagine what else you can do!! I can have the body I’ve always dreamt of. The existence I’ve always dreamed of. You’re gonna make my dreams come true, Grant. You’re gonna make me into a God!! ⁃ One step at a time, Ben. We need to look at why you’re much bigger then you were supposed to be... ⁃ Measure it!! ** Dr Jennings sets the phone down so that Benjamin is still in view. He walks over with a tape measure. ** ⁃ It’s... 14.6 inches long and...8.8 inches wide. ⁃ Yes!!!! ⁃ The head itself is... 5 inches long and 9.6 wide. ⁃ Fuck!!! My head is bigger then my old cock used to be!! My balls. Look at then. Like two oranges fighting for space in this sack. I wonder how big I am soft...but I haven’t been soft yet!! ** Benjamin laughs and then winces in pain again. ** ⁃ What’s wrong, Ben? ⁃ Nothing!! Everything is great!! I have to go... ** Benjamin starts to leave the room but stops, leaning against the wall. Professor Jennings runs up to him. Benjamin starts laughing. ** ⁃ I can just feel it growing again, Grant. It hadn’t finished growing... look at it!!! Fuck!!! Getting so massive... ⁃ We need to go run diagnostics on this, Ben... ⁃ It’s still getting bigger!! Don’t freak out, Grant!! It’s what I want... what I’ve always wanted... I’m a fucking living morph!!! ** Benjamin winces again. When he speaks, his voices is even deeper then before. ** ⁃ I need to fuck!! Need to fuck right now!!! Need to fuck all night!! Balls are already starting to fill up... churning. Fuck!! Getting blue balls!! That can’t be right!!! Starting to hurt already!! Just a reminder that this cock and balls were built for constant use!! ** Benjamin starts to move around the room, in and out of the frame. ** ⁃ Gonna go fuck, Grant. Find some poor soul and tear his ass apart. Got to fuck! Now!! Right now!! Not sure what I can wear... this won’t fit in any of my trousers... fuck it!! Let them see the massive bulge of this God cock!! Let them see I’m packing and what they’re getting!! ⁃ Ben, you can’t. We need to figure out what’s going on!! ⁃ Want me to fuck you, Grant?? That what you want?? ⁃ No... I... ⁃ Then get out of my way... all I can think about right now is fucking... getting off...FUCK!!! It’s still growing... and my balls!!! I’m gonna... ** Benjamin grabs onto his penis with both hands as he begins to ejaculate once again for four minutes, moaning and stroking as he does. When he finished, he looks at Dr. Jennings and laughs! ** ⁃ Measure me again ⁃ It’s... 15.4inches long and...9.7 inches wide. ⁃ Yes!!!! ⁃ The head itself is... 6.4inches long and 10.2 wide. ⁃ It’s a fucking monster, Doc, and I have you to thank!!! I’ll see you tomorrow, Doc... not too early... I think I’ll be too busy... sleep all day... the servants will take care of you. I have some great ideas what we’re gonna do next. I can have the body I’ve always dreamt of. The existence I’ve always dreamed of. You’re gonna make my dreams come true, Grant. You’re gonna make me into a God!! Gonna go fuck!! Talk more later!! ** Benjamin starts to exit the sitting room, his penis hard and still leaking. He stops and turns back to the camera. ** - Don’t be worried, Grant. You have no idea how amazing this feels. Ive never felt so alive… ** The recording ends ** That night I went through every diagnostics and everything was working properly. There was no reason why Ben’s penis and balls had grown to the size they now were. If I knew then what I know now... I would have destroyed that program right then and there. But I didn’t... and we didn’t stop... and now... fuck... what the fuck has Ben become? What’s he finally going to be??
  9. Hialmar

    m/m Descent into growth : Part 7

    The story begins: here. Part Six is found: here. Descent into growth Part Seven You had come into your own. Rob, too. You loved your new, short mohawk haircut, and Rob's haircut was inspired by the military, too: Shaved sides, shaved on the back of his head, and a flat, platinum blonde buzzcut left at the top of his head. The faded denim cut-offs suited Rob well, but his continued growth threatened to burst the cut-offs at the seams soon. You wondered why you hadn't chosen to wear jockstraps before: They were your number one choice. Mr. V. had stepped out of his camo-patterned army trousers, and revealed a black, glossy leather jockstrap. The words "silly", "fun-fair" and "charade" floated through your mind from somewhere, you couldn't remember from where, anymore. Actually, the leather suited Mr. V. well, and he seemed to like it. You felt like a big dumb jock boy now. Uh! The Test Chamber was buzzing. Crackling. Humming. As it ought to. Minutes ago, you had been worried over, what would happen, if no one was left outside, taking care of The Process, but you had forgotten Arngrim, your A.I. You had named him after a beefy berserker in Norse mythology. Uh! Berserker! You like that. You must have unconsciously longed for this day since the beginning. At least, that was, what Mr. V. told you, before he pushed you inside the Chamber to join Rob and himself. Nate wasn't far behind Mr. V. Now you were all becoming... Becoming what you were programmed to. All four of you. Felt great. Jock boy. Uh! You took turns at the training bench and by the barbell. Deadlift. Bench press. Squat. At first, the amounts and size of weight plates seemed ridiculously exaggerated. But now you realised: Not exaggerated at all. Not at these levels. Yeah. Felt great. Jock boy. Uh! You glanced. Nate was curling dumbbells. Two hundred pound dumbbells. TWO HUNDRED POUND DUMBBELLS! You felt horny. There was a bulge in your jockstrap. Just as Mr. V. wanted. Jock boy! Uh! Mr. V bellowed, and watched himself flex his bicepses in front of his chest. He grimaced involuntarily in a mix of triumph, amazement and pleasure, and emitted a growling moan. The next moment, there was the sound of a snap, and Mr. V’s leather-jockstrap was no more, because it couldn’t withstand the strength of Mr. V’s manhood anymore. His cock bounced out of its former imprisonment, liberated, throbbing and wet of pre-cum. Mr. V shuddered in pleasure, and his eyes incomprehendingly gazed at one of the katodes, from which the hypertrophic power came crackling into his abs. With a surprisingly dumb smile, he stepped outside the octagon marked in yellow-and-black-striped tape in the centre of the Test Chamber, approached the katode, bent his knees slightly, and pushed his cock into the opening of the katode. Watching Mr. V’s action, a smile lit up in Nate’s face, and he, similarly, left the centre of the chamber, and, still wearing his red glossy boxing shorts, rubbed his groin and abs against the opposing anode. The power level in the middle of the Chamber immediately sank considerably, although the remaining anode and katode relentlessly bombarded you and Rob with their hypertrophic power. Grunts of disappointment came from both Mr. V. and Nate. You and Rob watched each other, and nodded. Rob stepped outside the tape-markings, and approached Mr. V. ”Why doesn’t it work, bro? I want the growth-power, Rob. I really want it!” The sound of Mr. V’s voice had changed. It was deeper, of course – you hadn’t expected otherwise – but the former arrogance had faded, and there was a tone of a sulky teenager in the voice of the middle-aged businessman. ”It doesn’t work that way, Mr. V.” ”To hell with that Mr-V-shit, dude! Call me Van, Rob. But why don’t I feel a piss of that nice, really great growth-power? Turn me into a Hulk, Rob!” Meanwhile, you tried to reason with Nate. With a feeling of regret, you left the centre of the Chamber, and felt the hypertrophic power die in your body. There was anabolic radiation in the Chamber, lots of it, and your body still raged of visible growth, but the feeling of hypertrophic power was cut off. You put your palm on Nate’s melon-sized shoulder. ”Come, Nate. Come back to the centre of the Chamber.” ”But I want it so much. I want the Power! I want to feel it! I want …” ”It doesn’t work like that. The current connects, when a metallic object or a man is there in the centre.” You tried to drag Nate back to the centre, but there was no way to reason with him. For a second, it felt tempting to try to force Nate back to the centre, but remembering Nate’s MMA credentials, you decided against it, despite your newfound strength. You closed your eyes, and felt your muscles growing. Newfound strength. NEWFOUND STRENGTH. You returned to reasoning with Nate. It was hard to think. Hard to make him understand. ”But I want more! I want the Hulk-feeling! Don’t stop me!” He rubbed himself against the seemingly lifeless anode. You sighed. It was hard to think during the growth-process. So good. But it would return to even better, if Nate and Van stopped behaving like morons. You glanced at Rob, and catched his eye. You both nodded. You laid your hand on Nate’s lower back, and took a step away from him, your arm stretched outwards. Your right foot was inside the striped tape, but just barely. Rob was grabbing Van’s left hand, against the latter’s will, both arms stretched, and Rob was standing entirely within the marked area. The other katode-anode pair bombarded him now, and the influx of hypertrophic power caused Van to accept Rob’s firm handshake more willingly now. Rob bit his lower lip, trying to control himself, took a deep breath, and you could see him lay his eyes on the barbell in the middle of the chamber. He lifted his end of the barbell with one hand, pushing it, so that the other end of the barbell was close to your reach. So close. You tried to maintain the touch of Nate’s back, leaned carefully deeper inside the marked area, and then you and Nate lifted the barbell together. The effect was immediate. POWER. Hypertrophic power rushed into you from Nate and from the end of the barbell. Nate and you, Rob and Van formed a circuit. Circuit. A fucking circuit of power. You were shaking. Nate was shaking. Rob was shaking. Van bellowed: ”Fuck, yes, dude! The power streams through my cock!” It was hard to will yourself to the next step. It felt so good, but you had to do it. You and Rob nodded at each other, you laid the barbell down on the floor, and then you let your hands go. ”What the fuck, dude?” It was the disappointed voice of Van. You couldn’t blame him. You felt disappointed too, but Van and Nate were keeping the process back, by blocking the anode and katode. ”I said: Come back to the centre, where we will allow the circuit to close.” ”I don’t understand a word you say, bro. I want to get huge.” ”If you want to get huge, stand in the centre. That’s where you will connect the current.” Van and Nate hesitatingly began to move, but it was only the latter who joined you in the centre. ”What the hell, bro? I’m stuck inside this thing!” You couldn’t help yourself from laughing. Your laughter sounded different now: Dark, deep, rich, like chocolate. Nate and Rob laughed, too. ”You are what?” ”My dick is stuck inside this machine. It isn’t funny!” Rob laughed again. His laughter had changed too, and become similar to your’s: Leisurely joyful, but also with a deep, warm, assertive timbre. ”We have to find a way to help you out of this situation, then? I suppose, that you wouldn’t allow us to cut your dick off?” ”Shut up, Rob. It isn’t funny.” Van sounded unusually sullen now. Rob towered behind him now: Tall, built, confident and attempting to help. ”What if I do this?” ”Doesn’t help. Too painful.” ”And if I do this?” Van moaned. ”Doesn’t help. Got harder. More stuck.” ”So you have to shrink to get loose?” ”Shut up, Rob, as I said, it isn’t funny.” ”Let me see.” Rob opened his denim cut-offs, removed his jockstrap, and pulled something out. He stood with his back to you, and you were unable to see, which was a pity. ”If I do this …” ”Oh fuck, this is so hot, Rob, so hard, this can’t gonna work …” ”And slightly tug like this… ” ”Rob! Fuck! So… You are so masculine now… Can’t… Oh fuck, your amazing muscles … I’m… Oh wow! Uhnnnn… I …” There was a squishy sound. Half a minute later, Van was free. Leaning on Rob, he returned to the middle of the Chamber. The anode and the katode flared to work. Bolts of hypertrophic power was bombarding all four of you, again. Yes, bombarding you all again. You inhaled more gas. More. Feeling like a good jock boy. Jock boy. Uh! ”Intensifying anabolic radiation” It was the metallic voice of the AI again. When the intensified anabolic radiation hit you, all of you shivered and let some noise out. Nate moaned. Van let out a grunt. Rob’s eyes widened: ”Fuck, yes!” The AI continued: ”Adapting morphogenetic field to alternative sketch. Activating SKETCH NUMBER 2137.” Incredulity rose inside your mind. What the hell is Sketch number 2137? It can’t be the ridiculous sketch Rob and Nate had been playing with a few days ago? I couldn’t be… And the sketch was activated. ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” Yelps. Helpless yelps from men overwhelmed by irresistible tranformation. Yelps of pleasure from victims of forced growth. Yelps of power from jocks turning into musclegods. Yelps from Van, from the lads, from you. Their bodies convulsing. Your body convulsing. Rush. Body rush. Your body rushing into the height. Taller. Wider. Unfathomable. Taller. Wider. Brawnier. Forced by the field to conform to the pattern of the sketch. Forced to become… To become… Fuck! Uh! Become… So good… So good… To become… 6’9’’ To become… 330 lbs To become… Wider! Heavier! Harder! Fuck! The feeling! Becoming… ”Intensifying anabolic radiation” Your chest was growing. Your pec shelf made you feel like an ice-breaker. What was this? 7'? 360 lbs? What sort of man is able to count or keep numbers straight in this state? This state of GROWTH. MUSCLE GROWTH. Your abs were growing and becoming harder, more defined … chiseled. Your abs made you feel like a brickwall. ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” BRICK WALL. The sight of the other lads growing… Nate still his energetic plucky self, but four times as big. Van obsessed with his own growth, but looking younger and happier. Rob… BIG Rob. Towering. His platinum army-haircut contrasting against his bronzed tan. His ice-blue eyes shining of confidence and assertiveness, but not entirely like Van in the past: More personal warmth, more consideration for you and the others, more protectiveness… Rob closing his eyes in abandon, flexing his arms in front of himself… Rob bellowing like a human bull. BRICK WALL. You could feel it yourself. The power consuming you. Charging you. Building yourself up. Transforming. Your muscle fibres multiplying. Becoming thicker. Becoming harder. Unyielding. Your brawn. Thicker. Harder. Unyielding. Your testo. Higher. Flooding your system. Flooding your physique. Filling your body with testo. Ultra-charged testo. Filling your nuts and rod. Filling your muscles. Filling your mind. Charged. New being. Jock-being. Jock boy. Uh! Jock man. Jock beast. Jock god. Jock titan. ”Intensifying anabolic radiation” Yes, more! Nate groaning, but not in disappointment. Van staring into the void in disbelief, his powerful rod throbbing and drooling, as his body underwent metamorphosis into impossibly virile and powerful masculinity. Rob moaning deeply with a lustful and smug smile on his powerful lips, achieving the impossible looks of some super-soldier character out of a computer game. ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” YES!!! Could have been you. Could have been any of you. Someone – or all of you – bellowed your approval when the Process amplified your growth. You could see Rob stagger to the training-bench… reclining there… lifting the barbell… dislike how light it was… rise… add several thicc heavy plates… recline again… lifting… grunting in approval… and push… push… benchpress… push… Rob’s pecs growing… blood rushing to his pecs… anabolic power rushing to mend Rob’s pecs instantly, causing them to grow… grow… all four of you… grow… yourself staggering to spot Rob, well aware of the power streaming through the barbell between Rob’s hands… grabbing the barbell, to spot… CONTACT!!! Rob’s irradiated body and your irradiated body connected by the barbell, the hypertrophic power rushing through both your bodies: From your body into his. From his body into your. Crackling. Both of your bodies crackling. Surrounded by hypertrophic sparks and power bolts. Feeling the power current. BEING the power current. Yes! Bigger! Double the amounts! Both of you crackling of strength-inducing power. Crackling of muscle-growing power. Both of you! Glowing. Van realising it. Coming closer. Kneeling in front of Rob’s knees. Rob still lifting. Pushing. Bench press. Van swallowing Rob’s cock. YES! Connected! Three of you! Not thrice as much… FOURFOULD! Nate’s mouth agape of bliss. Closer. Kneeling under the barbell, between Rob’s head and your knees. Swalling your manhood. All four of you. Connected. FUCK! Not eightfold. SIXTEENFOLD, uhu sixteenfold, uhu, sixteenfold, Uhngh, so… So good. Yeah, suck me, musclegod! Connected. All of you. All the bros. All happy big jockgods. Jock titans! SIXTEENFOLD! Couldn’t take much more now… So much… ”Intensifying anabolic radiation” No! Not more now! So good, but almost too much… It… ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” The instincts and the power. Yeah. Strength. Raw powerful muscular strength. The only thing that matters. Watching Rob bench press 2000 lbs. TWO THOUSAND LBS!!! Raw powerful muscular strength. Instinct. Power. Strength. Bulging. Engorged. Everything engorged. Engorged cock. Engorged quads and hamstrings. Engorged calves. Engorged glutes. Engorged lats and traps. Engorged Pecs. Your abs, obliques and serratus burning. Burning. Bigger. Growing. Burning of power. Engorged. Van engorged. Nate engorged. Rob engorged. All of you burning. Throbbing. Engorged. Power levels. Uh. SIXTEENFOLD. ”Intensifying anabolic radiation” ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” YES! Brute-Beast big! Brute-Beast good! Jock-god so good! It… The feeling… Pure strength… Becoming strength… Flood of energy… Becoming energy… It’s… It’s the strength. Power. Energy. Power. Presence. Expanding. Throbbing of power. Presence. Raw power. Mass. Power Mass. Power Mass present. Power Mass throbbing. Connected. The lads. Power mass. Raw. All of you. All of us. Power Presence. Raw. Intense. Intensifying. Increasing. Enhanced. Enhancing. ”Intensifying anabolic radiation” ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” The strength. The… Uhu… YEAH! Huge! Bulging… Uhu! Ungh! Yeah, huge! Power flood. Beast. Raw. Brute. Power-Beast. Power-Brute. Godlike. Titanic. Titan. Power Titan. Brutal Power-Titan. Throbbing of Power. Good. Uh. Bigger. Huge. Huge Power-Beast. Huge Power-Titan. All of us. Huge Power Beasts. Huge Power Titans. So… Power-throbbing… Uh! Mass! Yes! Yeah! Strength-power! Power-stream! Power-current! Power-wave! Nnnn! Power-being! Nnnnn! Power-house! Uhu! Uhu! Can’t believe… POWER HOUSE! Yes! Look at us! Power-house! Can’t… So… Oh, fuck! It’s… Ungh! Uhu! POWER HOUSE! Huge! I… We… The Power! Can’t… So… It’s… Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh, fuck… It’s… ALL OF US… YES! What we are becoming… Oh! Yes! Let it happen! Let it happen to all of us! Let us become… Let us… Let… Uh. Power. Let… Uuuh! FU- !!! * * * To be continued.
  10. Hialmar

    no sex Descent into growth : Part 6

    The beginning is found: here. Part Five is found: here. Descent into growth Part Six You weren't sure if it had been the unknown after-effects, or if he had used the Test Chamber again, while you were suffering from the temperature, but Mr. V had probably reached somewhere around 280, 300, perhaps 320 lbs now. It was hard to guess, because he was obviously very cut and chiselled without much fat. In your terrified state, you were probably prone to exaggerate, but he could be 6'2'' or 6'3''. It was in the middle of the night, but Mr. V's taste for showing off wasn't asleep. His chest was entirely naked, but he was wearing army trousers with a city-camo pattern and very glossy boots. Treating your Lab like a fun-fair. Yes, indeed. You had to stand up against this charade, come hell, come high water. "You owe me an explanation, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen. What exactly is happening?" There was a lozenge of moonlight on the wall. Not enough to see his facial expression. "It's Mr. V now. I told you. Before you passed out." There was a dawning realisation beginning to take form. Your head felt strangely cold. "That came all of a sudden. On the order of whom was I given an IV, while I suffered from a temperature? I'm the medical expert here, and even I am not a practitioner." "Little Rob share some of your background. A few courses in medicine and several courses in physics make a good combination, don't they?" His voice was like dark chocolate slowly trickling over ice cream. Rich. Dark. Trickling. What was wrong with you? You hadn't felt any attraction to Mr. V in the past, and you certainly hadn't any reason to, now when your employer might have gone insane, and might be a threat to everyone at the compound: You, Rob, Nate, the two nice cleaning women, the kitchen staff, the two hunky guards... Hunky? You had never used that word about... What was happening? You felt strange, but the dizziness had faded, and your legs felt more stable, than just a few minutes ago. "So I asked Rob nicely, and he gave you some nutritional drip, while you were asleep. We have taken turns to tend your bed during your illness." You became aware of the elastoplast taped over the crook of your arm. Nutritional drip? But the only nutritional drip available was the same one, that had been administered to Nate and Mr. V. And why was your head feeling so unusually chilly, with all that hair of yours? Mr. V purred: "The second bag was an easy way to inject you with your personally tailored serum. When I asked nicely, Rob told me, that it wouldn't be possible to give you the injection in your glute, like you do with roids, so it was best to use an IV while you weren't protesting." "I'm not one of the test subjects. And what have you done to Rob?" Mr. V grabbed your armpits, lifted you up, and began to walk, while he continued to chat: "I wasn't a test subject, until I told you, that I wanted to be one. In your plan, there was only one original test subject: Nate." Panic rose inside you. You had several biochemical compounds running inside you. Chemicals not intended for you. Not intended for use, unless the test subject was soon entering the Test Chamber. You feared to enter the Test Chamber. You... "That's in your plan, of course. In my plan, which none of you seemed to anticipate, I expected myself and you to grow all along, eventually, when the transformation-process had proven stable and reliable, and I hoped, that Nate would become the plaything I need. Initially, he turned out to be overconfident, too overconfident, but that was enjoyable too, for a little while, when I was still a weakling, before my exaltation into my new state. I hope to rectify that mistake, soon." He carried you down the stairs. The corridor. The fear. Chemicals inside you. Already changing you. Priming you for the Chamber. "Rob needed some encouragement. I had to force him, threaten him (but I suspect he liked that bit), and dangle a carrot before him to do as I commanded." He interrupted his walk, changed his grip around you, so that you dangled from his left armpit, his powerful arm held under your belly. His right hand was searching for something in a walnut-wood drawer. "Now when I think of it, you could be of some assistance this very moment. Will you please lock these earbuds around my ears, will you?" He showed you a pair of strangely-looking earbuds, and put each of them in his ears. He put you down. You considered running, but that was a risky choice. You locked the earbuds around his ears. "You seem to hear well enough what I'm saying, so I suppose I will hear your answers, too. Doesn't it feel good to share the same sort of earbuds with me, jock boy?" You couldn't believe your ears. Jock boy? You? No one had called you jock boy. The most ridi- ... Jock boy. You shivered. You had to swallow. It actually sounded quite fierce. Mr. V pushed you before him down the next couple of stairs. Into the Lab. Your Lab. The Lab where you grow Nate and Mr. V. The way they want to be grown. Grown into Alphas. Grown into what they like to become. Grown. That was strange. You felt horny. You had felt terrified just a minute ago, but you felt... at ease. Yes. Felt at ease. The Lab. Then you remembered: You were worried for your friend Rob. Little Rob. "What have you done to Rob? If you have harmed him, I swear, that I will give you what you deserve!" The lighting was considerably better here. The stairs were lit, and the safety doors outside the Lab were efficiently lit. You could see an amused smile on Mr. V's timeless unaging masculine face: "There's a warrior-spirit inside you Doc. I like that. I like some resistance. And as to your question about what I have done to little Rob, I will answer that question." Mr. V pushed a number-sequence into the lock, and the safety door opened. Both of you entered. You could smell the usual familiar scents. Nate was there – bigger than before, and only wearing red silky boxing shorts with yellow stripes this time. The Test Chamber was humming, which came as a surprise. You turned your head, and for a second or two, you were unable to understand what you saw. Mr. V continued his speech. "I fulfilled his innermost dreams, even if he wasn't necessarily aware of these dreams before tonight." The unknown man inside the active Test Chamber was a towering giant at perhaps 6'4''. His shoulders were wide and melon-sized. Volleyball-sized pectorals voluptiously hung powerful from his chest, exuding terrifying power. His arms were proportionally sized. Something was wrong with the Chamber. Someone had put training equipment inside, in a ridiculous gesture, and the giant was performing deadlifts inside the Chamber. Nate said something in a tone of admiration, and you could see his glossy red boxing shorts tent, as he said it: "That's almost 1000 lbs!" The man inside the Chamber was a platinum blonde giant of a man. Slowly it dawned to you: The man inside the Chamber was little Rob! But he wasn't little Rob anymore. * * * Part seven is found: here.
  11. Hialmar

    no sex Descent into growth : Part 5

    Part one is found: here. Part four is found: here. Descent into growth Part Five Uncomfortable. You felt uncomfortable and soaked in sweat. The air felt hot – too hot – and suffocating, and your face felt too warm. You couldn't move, and another nauseous wave of too warm and stuffy atmosphere surrounded you, tossed you around and carried you away: into sleep, into your thoughts, into reality – you didn't know. You smelled the scent of shavings and guineapig droppings, methylated spirits and cleaning solution. You were in the Lab. Hadn't this already happened once? You approached Rob and Nate, who sat watching the screen of the computer, which controlled the field. The morphogenetic field. Rob was free to study the diagrams, the 3D sketches consisting of translucent outlines of real persons' physiques. You hadn't given that particular aspect of experiments much thought: Your predecessors in that field of study had gathered and collected a bank of statistic data about human anatomy and physiology. You recollected the stray reports about accidents, when the symmetry protocols and functionality protocols had been disregarded in the past, and you had tried to instill into little Rob the importance of basing any morphogenetic field on real people with functional physiques. You came closer. Little Rob must have heard the sound of your feet, and turned his head. You could see him blush, and his ruddy cheeks contrasted against his platinum blond hair and his innocent ice blue eyes. "How's Mr. Vanderwesthuisen?" "Still recovering from his DNA-programming infection. What are you looking at?". Nate turned around, his friendly and confident smile flashing from his youthful face: "Hey, Doc. Rob is showing me how the machine works. You've got data about most of my heroes, and then some." "What do you mean?" "Look here: You've got stats and some sorta drawings on the computer, and not just the competitors from the mid-2020's, but also a lot of vintage athletes. Take this one, for instance: Lee Priest, famous back in the 90's. Short, but built like a brick wall! Or that one, did you ever watch Game of Thrones? I was too young, but I've watched the re-runs. That's Hafthor Bjornson. The Mountain? And you have drawings ... what did you call them, Rob?" "Three-D sketches." "Three-D sketches, then. You've got 3D sketches of Cutler at Olympia in 2009, and you've got sketches of Markus Ruhl at the height of his career, and you've got Morgan Aste and Mariusz Pudzianowski." "Who?" "It's your data bank, not mine." "I have never been much into sports. I do work out irregularly, but I don't remember the names of athletes." "Rob didn't recognise half of them either. Most of them are bodybuilders, but Bjornson is a Strongman comptetitor. Mariusz won World's Strongest Man five times, but went into MMA after that. Now, the thing is, Rob showed me, that it is possible to combine data from all these drawings." "Yes, it is. How so?" "Well, I've sometimes imagined what would happen, if anyone of Bjornson's height got the same physique as Lee Priest. Lee's even shorter than me or Rob, but look how WIDE he was back then." "I suppose it could be done, theoretically, but no scientist would attempt to combine two physiques as different as those two." Nate looked smug. Rob blushed. "Actually, I asked Rob to fuse the, eh, 3D-sketches of Lee and Bjornson, and then mix that sketch with all the others here: Jay... Ruhl... Aste... And he did it! He actually did it! Take a look at this sketch!" They had actually "did it", indeed: The newly added SKETCH NUMBER 2137 in your data bank depicted a man looking like something out of comics or computer games, but with one important exception. If you had placed comics characters or game characters in real life, they wouldn't be able to move. Since the sketch was based on existing men with functional muscles, a person looking like that in reality would actually be able to have a life that worked. "Put it in the Archive, Rob. We will not use it. Not this week. Probably never, but put it in the Archive." Something was wrong with the scene. Rob and Nate. Both short lads. Wrong with the scene. Wasn't Nate taller and bigger when this happened? Not happening now. Happened. In the past. Memory. Strange. Something wrong. Uncomfortable. Darkness. You struggled. It felt like an invisible being wrestled with you. Too hot. * * * You smelled the scent of shavings and guineapig droppings, methylated spirits and cleaning solution. You were in the Lab. Hadn't this already happened once? You were standing in front of the Test Chamber, and Mr. Vanderwesthuisen arrived in the Lab. You turned your head. Your employer had a taste for making scientific experiments into fun-fairs: He arrived, wearing a gown of some sort of silky fabric, like the ones some boxers wear. Then he tossed the gown over a chair, revealing his almost naked body. His days spent at the beach had given him an even tan, and, although no one could call him a bodybuilder, it was obvious, by the way he looked, that he worked out seriously. All the marks were there: Pecs, including the beginning of a pec ravine, but not beefy ones; A faint outline of abs; Biceps, but not bulging ones; Visible lats, but not enough to give any exaggerated V-shape. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was wearing black high-neck trainers – no, rather boxing boots, you corrected yourself. And he was wearing posing trunks. Minimal, metallic green posing trunks of the sort European bodybuilders wear. ”I’m ready. An injection wasn’t it?” You had to clear your throat. It felt like you had a lump in it. ”Beg your pardon?” ”Injection. I have to be injected before I enter, haven’t I?” ”Uh. Yes. Of course. And this is what you are going to wear inside the Test Chamber, Sir?” He smiled. Smugly. Arrogantly. His rather handsome eyes had a glint, that revealed, that he knew that his playful approach to your work irritated you, but that you knew your place in the hierarchy. It was obvious, that he enjoyed how you served his whims, even when it irked you. Smugly. Arrogantly. Expectant. ”Yes, this is what I am going to wear. Unlike Nate, I don’t take pleasure in ripping out of clothes. The injection, then?” Rob was there. He had fetched the serum designed for Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s DNA. The scent of alcohol. The syringe. The sting. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes. Blue eyes, but another hue than Rob’s icy blue ones. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes were blue like a welding torch, and burning now. ”Will you repeat on me what you did to Nate?” ”We were considering two different options. On one hand, it would give us more comparable data, if we repeated the settings of Nate’s go at the Chamber, but, on the other hand, it could be interesting to see what happened, if we increased the hypertrophic power a few percentiles and intensified the anabolic radiation to the same degree. In that case…” You were interrupted by Mr. Vanderwesthuisen: ”I’ll go for the second option.” ”But…” ”That was not a question, Doc. That was a command. You will increase the levels.” You could see Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s posing trunk fill out. Something was growing before the Process in the Test Chamber had begun. He eagerly stepped inside the sluice. The two atmospheres switched place, and he entered the Chamber. You and Rob activated the machines, including Arngrim, the AI, that assisted you in your work. ”Gas saturation, Arngrim?” The metallic voice of the AI answered: ”Eighty-five percent and increasing.” You sneezed, and had to find a package of tissues in your pocket. It was obvious, that you had a sore throat now. Your usual luck… just in the middle of an experiment… ”Ninety percent and increasing.” You could see Mr. Vanderwesthuisen stand in the centre of the chamber inside the octagon outlined by black-and-yellow tape marks. He was inhaling deeply, with an eager expression. ”Ninety-five percent and increasing.” ”Time to warm up the anabolic rays, Rob. I’ll activate the hypertrophic coils.” ”Anabolic emmitters warming up. Hypertrophic coils activated. Ninety-nine percent saturation: Full saturation level.” Bolts were beginning to hit Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s body. He shook. It was hard to distinguish the bolts through the thick protective glass panes. In the green hue from the lamps Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s skin looked almost green. Tanned and green. Silly comics-based fun-fair whims. ”Initiating irradiation.” Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes widened. His mouth opened. You activated the interior microphones and speakers. ”Everything well, Sir?” ”Fuck. Yes. Well. Yes. More than well. Love this. This feeling. Better than I thought. Nate, if you are out there: I’m joining you now. Now I understand, what you talked about. The feeling. Fuck. So good. Becoming like you.” ”Intensify radiation.” ”Intensifying anabolic radiation.” ”FUCK, yes. I don’t know what you are doing out there, but I loved that.” Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was shivering, nay, shuddering inside the Test Chamber. His fit but small physique had begun to change, as Nate’s had a few days before. To fill out. To become taller. To become wider. ”Increase power.” ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” ”FUCK! YES! More! Watch me! Watch me grow! Look at me! Look what I’m becoming now! Look at me! These muscles!” The test subject was correct. He was growing, and his muscles were more visible, more full. He looked like a short lightweight bodybuilder, or perhaps a bodybuilder of average height. The signs of middle age in his face were fading. It was now hard to guess Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s age. His chest protruded proudly. He stood there, the increasing volume of his quads and hamstrings pushing his legs wider apart. The outline of his abs was much more visible now: Six hard bronze-coloured hemispheres glistening of sweat. His manhood was growing inside his metallic green posing trunks, and his two proud bicepses were not the only growing steel-bulge of his. His shoulders looked like grapefruits – no, small melons, now, and there was a beefy trap running behind his neck, causing his neck to look beefier. You felt a mild feeling of dizziness, but recovered within seconds. ”Intensify radiation.” ”Intensifying anabolic radiation.” ”Increase power.” ”Increasing hypertrophic power.” Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s eyes widened again. Voluntarily or involuntarily he flexed all of his muscles. And again. Flexed. And again. Two or three conflicting feelings shone from his eyes: Fear. Pleasure. And confidence. He did a crab pose in front of himself. Then he flexed both biceps, his mouth grinning confidently. Then his head arched back in abandon. His mouth opened, and he let a moan out. His muscle mass expanded outwards. His bone-structure re-structured with an ugly sound, and in a split-second you briefly sent a grateful thought at the analgesics flowing in Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s body. A sick wet sound, like stuffing a leather sofa full of raw meat, was heard through the loudspeakers, but that sound was almost drowning in Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s more and more loud moans of pleasure. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s penis was stretching his green metallic posing trunks further, and the root of his tanned manhood was now visible. Pre-cum drooled through the fabric of the very elastic posing trunks, and Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s right hand blindly thrashed in the air, until his big, powerful hand cupped the head of his rod through the fabric of the poser. His left hand sqeezed his right pec. By now, he must have grown from 5’7’’ to 6 feet, and he could accurately be described as ”barrel-chested”. Metallic green was a suitable colour-scheme for a man beginning to look like a powerful machine. ”FUCK! YES! Look at me! All this mass! Behold your Alpha! I’m the Dominator! I’m coming! I’m huge now, and I will dominate the world! I’m… Uh, fuck, fantastic…” You became worried for his sanity, and the safety-script had run to it’s end anyway, so it was best to finish this test session. ”Deactivate radiation and power!” ”Deactivating hypertrophic power. Decreasing anabolic radiation.” ”NO! You can’t stop it now! I want more! I want EVERYTHING!” It was 266 lbs of powerful beef that stepped out of the Test Chamber. It approached you, and that fast. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was angry now, and the welding-torches in his eyes were burning hot. Absent-mindedly, you noticed that Mr. Vanderwesthuisen’s posing trunks were too small now. Obscenely too small. The dizziness returned, and you coughed. He grabbed you by the collar of your lab coat, and you found yourself dangling in the air, while veins crawled over his 24’’ arms. ”Now, you little science geek, I want you to switch that Chamber on again. I want Alpha godhood, and I want it NOW. You have no idea how it feel to… Oh fuck, I’m still growing! You didn’t tell me about the after-effects…” There seemed to be after-effects. You hadn’t expected that. You were still dizzy, but you could see the impressed expressions on little Rob’s and Nate’s faces. You still dangled in the air. ”Now, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, you have to calm down. Put me down, and…” ”Feel so good. I’m not Mr. Vanderwesthuisen anymore. I demand, that you call me Mr. V. now, and I tell you: Switch that Chamber on.” The dizziness. Black dots floating before your eyes. You felt uncomfortably warm. The dizziness. And then everything blacked out. Far, far away, you were dimly aware of a huge presence carrying you like a little child to somewhere else. Darkness swallowed your consciousness, and you fell into heat and the smell of sweat. * * * You felt uncomfortable and soaked in sweat. The air felt hot – too hot – and suffocating, and your face felt too warm. You couldn't move, and another nauseous wave of too warm and stuffy atmosphere surrounded you, tossed you around and returned you to reality. You could remember it all, but you must have become unconscious. You woke up, and found yourself in your own bed. You had wrestled with the sheets, and they were a damp mess. Something felt wrong about your ears. You touched them. Some sort of earbuds, but they were locked around your ears. Strange. You opened your eyes. Dark, but the outline of the window was visible. You rose. Still slightly dizzy. For how long had you slept? Moonlight outside the window. Moonlight over the tropical sea. You turned around. In the moonlight you could see the outline of an IV pole. You became suspicious. An empty bag was hanging there. No. Two empty bags were hanging there. What was going on? Mr. V’s insanity. Somehow, you had to call the authorities. No sign of your mobile phone anywhere. You had to go to the office room undetected. You were still dizzy, as you navigated the unlit nocturnal corridors of the compound. There it was. The office. You lifted the receiver from the old-fashioned stationary telephone. Not all equipment on the island had been updated. Your legs were shaky after the flu, and you felt exhausted. You dialled 112. Silence. "Hello? Anyone there? Can anyone hear me?" You felt a BIG warm presence behind you, and a BIG powerful hand pulled the receiver out of your hand, restoring it to its place, while a deep voice – a both pleasantly and threateningly deep voice – growled behind you: "What did I say about contacting authorities? Remember, I pay your rent, but don't worry: Welcome back from the sickbed. You are needed in the Lab." You turned around. It was Mr. V., and he was bigger now. * * * Part six is found: here.
  12. Hialmar

    m/m Descent into growth : Part 4

    This story begins: here. Part 3 of this story is found: here. Descent into growth Part 4 His grunts weren't just noises. They were the sounds of an assertive Alpha establishing his place in the submissive surrounding pack. His moans weren't just noises. They established the undeniably pleasurable nature of suddenly becoming a six feet tall bodybuilder. Especially, if you had been a 5'6'' fighter, just half an hour earlier, as Nate had been. The morphogenetic fields hummed. The anabolic radiation buzzed, and the hypertrophic power crackled, as Nate's vulnerable body became the target of relentless bolts and currents of hypertrophic power, again and again. Power. Hypertrophic power. Bombarded. His Adidas tracksuit bottoms had lost the struggle twenty minutes ago. The seams had bursted, and revealed Nate's powerful quads, and when his calves had reached a new level a few minutes later, the tracksuit was no more. "Yes! Hulking out!", Nate had shouted, but just a few minutes later, Nate had left the ability to say something coherent behind. From then on, there were just the grunts and the moans, the growth and the mass, and Nate standing there, his legs wide apart, just wearing his jockstrap and his stretchy Under Armour shirt. A few minutes later, Nate crossed the outer limits of the shirt's stretchiness. The fabric fell to the floor of the Chamber, and Nate was standing there: Shining of sweat, throbbing of power, ecstatic of the feeling of GROWTH. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had also lost his usual chattiness, and he stared in awe at the Test Chamber. You weren't entirely aware of Rob's whereabouts. This was more than enough. This step of the experiment had to end now. It had to be evaluated. You pressed a few buttons, and gave Arngrim, the Artificial Intelligence, a few commands. You could hear Rob switch the gas off. A shout came from the Chamber: "NO! Don't stop! I want MORE!" Mr. Vanderwesthuisen turned hesitatingly his face in your direction, and asked: "Can't we go on with the experiment? These results are -- uh -- fascinating." "Unfortunately, the results have to be evaluated. There are blood samples and urine samples to be tested. We need to check Nate's heart, in order to ensure, that he hasn't suffered any consequences." Mr. Vanderwesthuisen shivered in excitement, and his words stuck in his throat: "But you heard him say it himself. He is ready to continue." "Nothing hinders us to give him a second and, perhaps, a third try in the Test Chamber, but not until this first growth spurt has been evaluated. I don't want to repeat all those accidents, that happened in the past. You care for Nate's safety, don't you?" "Yes, of course I do, but I'm also very interested in the project. That it delivers. That you go through with it. That you explore all the possibilities." Nate's commanding presence stepped out of the sluice. A scent of sweat and precum spread in the Lab, with the dominating scent of MAN. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's eyes glazed, and his murmur became incoherent. * * * It was just a few hours later. You were called to Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's office. He was sitting behind his writing desk. "Your experiment earlier today was successful. I have no reason to beat about the bush, any longer. I want to become your next test subject -- no, I DEMAND to be your next test subject. I want you to continue your experiments on Nate and on me, and I want you to make me bigger. Time flies: I'm not young anymore. There are some things money can't buy, or couldn't buy until now. I want you to grow me and rejuvenate me. I want to transform from a short and middle-aged man into a tall, muscular young man. Now I know, that you are able to do it, Doc. Do it to me. Hrrrm. I want it to happen soon. I want you to take a blood sample from me, and turn it into that serum, and I want to be infected by that DNA-altering virus this very evening. I demand it. I can't imagine how it must feel to grow in that pace, to transform so fast, so fast into such a strong, powerful -- uh --- so strong and powerful bodybuilder physique, a giant among men, and -- uh -- feel the strength growing and -- uh uh -- feel how you become TALLER and -- uh, oh my God -- and feel how -- uh uh, fuck, uh -- Doc, I need it, I really need to become A TITAN (uh!): A titan of steel brawn, able to --- uh uh uh -- feats of strength beyond --- uh, fuck, oh God, ugh, fuck, the strength Doc, THE STRENGTH ..." Mr. Vanderwesthuisen closed his eyes. You couldn't avoid the smell of semen, which spread in Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's office. You had a bad feeling about this. There was no way to refuse your employer's wish, even if he gave the impression to be somewhat unstable. Later that evening, you infected Mr. Vanderwesthuisen with the desired DNA. Step 2 had begun. * * * It was late. On your way to your own quarters, you passed Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's bedroom. One of the drawbacks with the living quarters was, that not all doors were sound-proof. It wasn't your intention to eavesdrop, but it was hard to avoid. You could hear Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's voice: "You are magnificent. Those powerful meat-slabs ... so hard ... so warm ... do you like this? And those biceps ..." Mr. Vanderwesthuisen moaned: "Do it again!" Mr. Vanderwesthuisen moaned again, and you could hear a deep growl in the now deeper, but familiar voice of Nate: "You like this?" "Oh, yes!" "What do you like this?" "Oh. Wow. I'm not sure ..." Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's voice suddenly turned into incoherent grunts, but you could hear Nate moan happily: "Yeah. That's a good boy. So good. Yes. You know, that you want to do it, Sir. You want to feel the boner of a real jockboy, don't you? You envy this, don''t you, Sir? You want this. You want to be a jockboy, yourself, don't you? Want to have a jock boner, just like mine, don't you? Want to join me in the Chamber, don't you? Want be like me? Hanging out with your bros? Becoming big like me? Having arms like these guns?" The grunts and moans of Mr. Vanderwesthuisen became loader and wilder, but Nate's growling voice continued: "Yeah, that's good, Sir! Don't stop! Don't stop! Fucking good! So good! Can you feel how hard, I become? And can you watch these pecs dance?" Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's inarticulate noises became louder again. You had heard more than you needed to know. You hurried to your own quarters. This had turned into something unexpected. * * * Part Five is found: here.
  13. Hialmar

    no sex Descent into growth : Part 3

    The story began: here. Part 2 is found: here. Descent into growth Part 3 When the day came, everything seemed so normal, and so matter-of-fact. The four of you were sitting at the breakfast table, the kitchen-staff and the cleaners suitably preoccupied somewhere else. You, little Rob and Mr. Vanderwesthuisen were eating the usual high-protein breakfasts you had all become familiar with in the last few weeks. Nate wasn't eating anything. "How do you feel after a night on nutrition-IV?", you asked Nate. The sinewy little fighter beamed of restless energy, and the scent of shower gel and anti-perspirant steamed from his tight and hard little body. "Feels weird to not eat breakfast with you, but I feel ok. I'm not hungry. Actually, I'm full." "And how did this morning's workout go?", Mr. Vanderwesthuisen asked, with an eager voice. In the last days building up for the main experiment, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had become restless. Restless and eager. His, sometimes arrogant, eyes now burned with curiosity. Nate smiled, unknowingly allowing his smile to hit you all like a flash. His golden brown eyes glittered in mischief and cockyness: "Feel pumped and sore, in a good way. Loved the full-body workout Doc prescribed before the experiment. Wasn't sure if I would follow through till I reached the last exercise, but I did, prolly 'cause Doc's super-nutrition. Lifted more heavy, than I thought possible without a pre-workout." Nate returned to addressing you: "Now. What's next?" You swallowed your scrambled eggs, and cleared your throat. "As I told you before. I had to assess, that you had recovered from the virus, that spread your new improved DNA. It seems like you have. Then, you had to spend one night with the nutrition-IV and follow that up with a full-body-workout schedule, in order to ensure, that all your muscles will be in a state receptive for ultra-enhanced recovery and hypertrophy, which they now are. Next step is to inject you with a formula, which will increase your production of beneficial hormones and decrease your myostatin. It will also ..." "What's myostatin?" It was Rob who answered: "It's a chemical in your body, setting a limit to how big your muscles become. We are removing that limit." Then he fell silent and blushed, because he might have had spoken out of bounds. Your protective instincts rose again. During the months together, the short and portly lab-assistant had gradually revealed a bright intellect and a witty sense of humour under the surface of shyness. He had once described himself as "belonging to the repressed middle-class" and Nate "belonging to the oppressed working-class". He had also confided in you, that he felt of two minds about working for Mr. Vanderwesthuisen: "Am I a hypocrite, because I now work for Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, when I protested against the 1% as a student? This income. That insurance. Free accommodation. The beach. The gym. This job is too good to be true. Thanks for coaching me, by the way." The enthusiastic voice of Nate brought you back to the present: "No limits. Exploding testo. Ultra-enhanced recovery. I love this." You took up the thread where you had lost it: "The formula will also contain an analgesic, specially designed to remove any pain from growing bone tissue and muscle tissue. You will remain awake, and you will retain your sense of touch and temperature." "Analgesic?", Nate asked. "Painkiller.", Rob prompted. When you left the dining room for the laboratory, Nate gave Rob an encouraging thump in the back, in a gesture you had seen jocks use at your gym. Rob returned the gesture with a few awkward pats on Nate's back. You had seen the relation between the two young men improve. In the first weeks, Nate had avoided the fancy-talking lab assistant, and Rob had shyly avoided working out in the gym when Nate was exercising. More recently, they had warmed up to each other, and found some shared ground in films and computer games. Nate had even, unexpectedly, taken over your role as Rob's coach at the gym. Three of you had the access code to the Lab. There were emergency doors made of armour-plating and lead-plates connected to detectors, in case any dangerous substance or radiation would begin to leak. When you entered the Lab, several different scents greeted you: Shavings and the scent of rodents from the guineapig cages, cleaning solution, methylated spirits and the indescribable dry sort of smell present in areas where high-voltage equipment is running. You switched on the computer, on which you stored and ran the morphogenetic fields, and you switched on the computer, that controlled the levels of anabolic radiation and hypertrophic power. Little Rob checked the gas canisters and the hose connecting the cannister and the Test Chamber. "Will you write the present stats down, Rob, will you?" Rob did: "Height: 5'6''. "Weight: 145 lbs "Chest: 36 inches "Waist: 27 inches You were too preoccupied with the preparations to notice the size of Nate's firm, but apple-sized, bicepses. The Test Chamber was warming up, and you were fetching the serum in the refrigerator. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was watching the procedure with great interest. You had tried to advice him, not to attend something, that was purely a scientific pursuit, but he had insisted. Your scientific instincts disagreed: A medical experiment isn't some sort of entertainment. The tacky green interior lighting lit up the Test Chamber, and you remembered Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's flippant comment: "You have to cheer the test-subjects up. They will feel more Hulk-like, in that illumination." You dabbed the crook of Nate's right arm with alcohol, and then gave him the injection. This was the point of no return. The chemical compounds and the altered DNA had now begun to interact inside the wiry little fighter. No-one knew for sure, what the added effect of the gas, the anabolic radiation and the hypertrophic power would lead to, but if the guineapigs were giving you any clues, the result would be rather sensational. You and Nate watched each other in silence, and you fell short of words, because of the gravity of the situation. Nate gave little Rob a hug, and entered the sluice. The interior atmosphere was pumped into the sluice, and Nate was able to enter. You were ready to begin the experiment. It was Mr. Vanderwesthuisen who broke the silence: "And so it begins." * * * Part 4 is found: here.
  14. Hialmar

    no sex Descent into growth : Part 2

    Chapter 1 is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18685-descent-into-growth-part-1/ Descent into growth Part 2 You reclined on the training bench, sweating profusely and pushing the dumbbells above you in a dumbbell press exercise. You weren't devoted to the gym the way Nate was, or even the way Mr. Vanderwesthuisen obviously was, but since your move to Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's island you had returned to your hobby from university days, exercising at least two times a week – three times some weeks. Anger boiled inside you: A wave of heat causing your body to shudder, and you let it out through the exercise, pressing the dumbbells upwards, controlling their weight on their way down. You were the one responsible for research. You were the one responsible for the health and safety of Nate. You were the one responsible for the health and safety of everyone at the compound if the lab equipment ever malfunctioned. But Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had been tampering with the Lab in subtle ways, and less subtle, without consulting you. The interior lighting inside the Test Chamber was a minor matter, and rather childish, but when Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's engineers visited the Lab, and installed the unknown equipment, you had had an argument with your employer. "You are not the only expert I have employed, Doc. You don't need to know his name, but an expert in subliminals has designed this sound equipment and the program attached. It can't hurt, to program the test subject's mind just as his body." "I would prefer to keep each of these experiments separate. This opens up for unexpected consequences." "And I prefer to keep these experiments together. Remember who you are talking to. I appreciate your knowledge and your work, but it is my money and my project. I can't wait to see what will happen to young Nate." And then there was the recruitment of little Rob. You had mentioned the need for a lab assistant, but you had expected to interview the candidates and pick the most suitable one. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen had other ideas: One day little Rob was suddenly there, picked by Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, and there wasn't anything you could do to change that fact. You could feel your anger abate, or rather transmute into control of the weights ... transmute into blood rushing to your chest muscles, making them hard – The Pecs as Nate used to say. In control of the weights. The weights causing your chest to work. The exercise caused anger to be replaced by serenity and the feeling of being bodily present. Present. At peace. * * * It would have been unwise to take your frustration out on little Rob. Whatever he lacked in experience, your lab assistant compensated in kindness and helpfulness. Rob was just out of university after a Bachelor in biochemistry (You would have preferred someone with a Masters or a Doctorate), so he was very young. There was a hint of pudginess under Rob's t-shirt, but he lacked the stoutness that sometimes came with pudginess: His arms were scrawny, and his shoulders were narrow. Kindness shone in his blue eyes, and his platinum blond hair was styled in some modern manner. "We will use blood samples from normal men for comparison, and the test subject's blood samples will be tested regularly before, during and after each stage of the project." "Normal men?" "In order to keep it simple, we could take blood samples of each other once a week, and put them in this refrigerator. It could also be a good safety precaution, in case the equipment would begin to leak power or radiation, which it shouldn't." "That would be dangerous, wouldn't it?" "Not in small amounts, but it would be dangerous to expose unprepared organisms to higher amounts. Without the serum, an organism would react unpredictably to the treatment." "Would the serum be enough to cause a change?" "The serum alone would cause someone dedicated to physical exercise to increase the outcome of his exercise over the time of 6-12 months, but the idea is, to combine the serum, the DNA-altering virus, the morphogenetic fields, the anabolic radiation and the hypertrophic power. And the gas, of course." "The gas?" "In the past, test subjects had to float in a certain solution, but there were complications because of that, and – I think – two cases of drowning. The illegal equipment, that circulates under the radar, doesn't fill the chamber with anything at all, and that might be one of the reasons why the illegal equipment backfires so often. By filling the chamber with a mix of oxygen and a hormone-stimulating gas, we will give the hypertrophic power a medium through which to transmit to the test subject, but we have removed the risk of drowning. Anabolic radiation doesn't need any medium, of course." Nate entered the Lab. "Oh, Nate. The day before the big experiment! How do you feel?" "Good. I have recovered from that virus you pumped into me a few days ago. I'm eating again. Couldn't stomach anything while I lay sick." "Yes, I'm sorry for that, but the virus is the carrier of the enhanced DNA. From now on, your DNA will be engineered to produce more muscles and higher levels of hormones." "I feel hornier than usual. Is that normal?" "You probably produce higher levels of testosterone now. We'll see. Time for your blood sample, again." Little Rob took several test tubes of blood from Nate. "One of these samples will be used in order to produce a highly customised version of the serum, uniquely tailored to your individual DNA. We do it in the machine over there." You waved in the direction of a workbench with equipment. "Nervous?" Nates brown eyes didn't look nervous. Rather, they sparked of enthusiasm. "I wouldn't call it nervous. I trust your work, Doc. Your work and Rob, here. And Mr. Vanderwesthuisen. But I look forward to it. When Mr. Vanderwesthuisen first told me about the possibilities ... I couldn't believe it was true. I'm good at MMA in my own weight-class, but I always felt too small. If I could become bigger, perhaps taller, I could take up Strongman competitions instead. I ... I look forward to the big experiment." You noticed how little Rob's glance moved to Nate's tracksuit bottoms. The talk about the experiment obviously caused Nate to tent inside the tracksuit. * * * Part 3 is found: here.
  15. Hialmar

    no sex Descent into growth : Part 1

    Descent into growth Part 1 You lifted the receiver from the old-fashioned stationary telephone. Not all equipment on the island had been updated. Your legs were shaky after the flu, and you felt exhausted. You dialled 112. Silence. "Hello? Anyone there? Can anyone hear me?" You felt a BIG warm presence behind you, and a BIG powerful hand pulled the receiver out of your hand, restoring it to its place, while a deep voice – a both pleasantly and threateningly deep voice – growled behind you: "What did I say about contacting authorities? Remember, I pay your rent, but don't worry: Welcome back from the sickbed. You are needed in the Lab." You turned around. It was him, and he was bigger now. * * * It had been a bad time for you and your colleagues specialising in the field of research about anabolic radiation, hypertrophic power, alteration of DNA and related areas. Although the unfinished versions of the treatments had been put to good use by international armed forces in repulsing the space invasion a few years ago, in peacetime the governments of the world had found the process "unreliable, potentially dangerous and in breach of ethical standards", as one of the official reports put it. A series of hushed-down, unfortunate (and, in some cases, horrifying) accidents had dotted any attempts to re-activate research in the field. Not even the potential of improving the conditions of patients suffering from muscular dystrophy could convince the international consensus, that research ought to be re-activated in a careful and benevolent way. You had got your degree, you had got an area of expertise, but you had not got any lasting employment within your field. When Mr. Vanderwesthuisen contacted you, it had seemed like a godsend. "I've heard, that you are knowledgeable in a rare interdisciplinary field, combining physics and medicine, is that correct?" The man was affluent, and seemed to expect his coworkers to obey him. That will always have a certain effect on a man's behaviour and charisma. It would have been difficult to say no to Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, but since he offered you money and a legal way to undertake what you liked to do – research – you had no reasons to contravene him. One week later, you found yourself in luxurious living quarters at a private island outside the territorial waters of any sovereign country. Under your supervision, a very expensive lab-equipment was assembled, but all the tedious business with the – not entirely legal – acquisition of the components and biochemicals involved was taken care of by your new employer. Mr. Vanderwesthuisen visited you once a month, in order to follow your experiments. * * * After sixteen months, you were ready to switch from lab animals to human test-subjects, but just barely. The dining room was as luxurious as the rest of the complex. The air conditioner worked hard to keep the indoors climate refreshing, and, by the look of Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's and the newcomer's tan, it seemed like they had spent their first hours on the island outdoors on the beach. You were an ill-matched trio: Mr. Vanderwesthuisen was wearing an expensive suit and tie. You were in a habit of dressing formally when needed, but dressing down at your leisure time. The newcomer seemed to be considerably younger than Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, probably between the age of 20 and 30, and he was wearing trainers, Adidas tracksuit bottoms and a tight elastic t-shirt with the logo of Under Armour. He had kept his cap on his head, the peak turned backwards, but this ostentatious disregard of table manners didn't seem to disturb your employer at all. "Doc, meet Nate. Nate, this is Doc. I expect both of you to help each other's talents to blossom." You shook Nate's hand, and, although he was shorter than you, his firm handshake caused you some pain. Nate was short, but very wiry. His Under Armour-shirt revealed the outline of his chest and abdomen. With a commanding gesture, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen invited you to the table. The three of you took your seats. "As you will probably hear from himself soon, Nate is practicing Mixed Martial Arts, but decided to join our little project. Doc is an expert on the lamentably suppressed research on hypertrophic power. I pay him to not suppress it anymore." Nate's face shone up in youthful enthusiasm and curiosity: "Is it true what they say, that science actually know how to grow men's muscles into Hulk-size?" "I wouldn't compare reality to fiction ...", you began, but Nate continued his trail of thought: "Have you heard the rumours, that some criminals, bodybuilders and strongmen have got their hands on secret equipment, that turned them MASSIVE? Is it true?" You turned your head to face Mr. Vanderwesthuisen: "What am I allowed to say?" Mr. Vanderwesthuisen smiled inscrutably, swallowed a forkful of fish, and answered: "You asked for a human test subject. Nate hasn't formally signed any contract, yet, but he has been very enthusiastic about the possibilities. Tell him everything you deem suitable." That was fast. You had briefly mentioned human test-subjects to you employer, but, for the sake of safety, you would take your time, until the time was ripe. "Well, ehr, Nate, do you mind if I call you Nate? Illegal beta-test equipment from an earlier stage of research is circulating. That sort of equipment is unreliable, and has caused unpredictable results like death, deformity or insanity among some of those who dared to try it out. Some did grow: You might have heard exaggerated accounts about those who were lucky. There is a reason, why the research was put to a halt. The equipment I use has been adjusted, and it is built from tested high-quality components. Our Lab only use lab-grade high-quality chemicals, so most of the dangers have been minimized. We will probably be ready to begin experiments on you within a month." Mr. Vanderwesthuisen's face changed expression: "I was under the assumption, that we could begin earlier than that?" "Well, there are some safety precautions ..." He cut you in the middle of your sentence: "Nonsense. I have read your reports. The equipment is ready. You are ready. Nate is surely ready, aren't you, Nate?" Nate's cheeks were blushing for some reason: "To hulk out? Yeah, I'm ready to hulk out, Mr. Vanderwesthuisen, just as you told me. Promise me, that you will cause me to hulk out, Doc!" * * * Part 2 is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18694-descent-into-growth-part-2/
  16. Jaypat

    m/m The Underground Lab (illustrated)

    Another Day... Jon sat up and scratched his head. Would this be the day, the final day? It had been weeks since they’d seen anyone official. The end couldn’t be far off. How had he gotten himself into this mess? When they had approached him right out of collage, he’d been looking for a way to fund his master’s degree. This had seemed ideal, a six-month contract and a high salary. The only drawback was that he was going to be working in an undisclosed location. He couldn’t tell anyone where he was going — no friends, no family, no one. Not that he had a family to tell. Oh yeah, he’d thought it was strange when they were happy to hear he didn’t have a family. But now he understood. There’d be no one to miss him — if he never came back.
  17. Back to the first part of this chapter.... "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Finally, another chapter.....a group of the boys are heading off for muscle worship in LA! Part 1. Sorry it has taken me so long to continue. ENJOY! Comments welcome... Updated 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 Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Casey and Abdul shook hands and almost immediately crashed into each other like sumo wrestlers. Moving with confident skill, Abdul wrapped his arms around Casey’s chest and slid them up underneath his armpits. He gained leverage, letting out a massive grunt as he heaved the big muscleboy up off his feet. Casey moaned as Abdul slammed him down to the mat. “Awesome,” breathed Lang. “That was fast,” said Waring. “He’s not done yet,” said Alvarez. The men leaned in to watch closer. The wrestlers’ gigantic muscles rippled with pumping, vascular power on the mat. Casey managed to break free for a second, but found himself in Abdul’s guard. Abdul was already going for a triangle choke. Casey was slippery enough to wiggle free for a moment, but Abdul climbed onto his back and sunk in a chokehold, rocking Casey backwards as he tried to shove his hands underneath his rippling forearm. It was no use. Superior experience took the moment from Casey. Abdul reached behind him and grabbed Casey’s asscheeks. “Let’s keep it clean, keep it clean,” said Moster, circling. “Think you’re tough, punk?” Abdul snarled into Casey’s ear. “I know I am,” said Casey. He struggled to wriggle himself free. Sweat began to pour down his body, further drenching the mat. Abdul stretched him out as the other guys watched. They slid in the growing pool of oil and sweat. As he dug his hands in, he caught Casey’s posers with his heel. Casey could feel them sliding down his quads the harder he squeezed. The elastic band stretched until is slipped under the pouch. For a flash, Casey felt humiliated and helpless, almost half naked and groaning as Abdul dominated him. Then he retaliated. Snapping one hand onto Abdul’s pecs, he managed to push him back and deliver a powerful backhand blow across Abdul’s face. Abdul’s face whipped to one side. “Fuck Turkish rules. Keep the posers on,” Casey snarled. Moster said nothing. Mouths dropped open. Abdul released the posers, smiled back, as Casey pulled them back into place. Casey looked back at him, and Abdul smiled - and returned a powerful backhand blow of his own across Casey’s face. Casey’s head whipped to the right. He looked back slowly and nodded. “We’re even.” Welts began to appear on the faces of both men. All of sudden, Abdul shot out, gutwrenching Casey’s face into his lap. “No. Now we’re even.” He tried to shoot a takedown, but Casey suddenly sprawled flat, flipped him, and got a tight front headlock on Abdul. He went down on one knee and flipped him over with a fireman’s carry. Before Abdul knew what hit him, he was on his back. Casey felt his arm between his legs as he attempted a cradle. He was close to scoring. Abdul, his face now puffing up, struggled in the sweaty pool of muscle. Casey locked up his hands and rocked him back. The tide of battle changed. Somehow Abdul got to his feet, grabbing hold of Casey’s hips and now shooting for a second takedown, bending over him now and reaching down his broad back. Casey, surprised, tried to sprawl but Abdul guided his hands up again toward the straps of his posers and made him almost sit on his hands. Casey tried to bridge, but Abdul clamped onto him. Saliva sprayed from his mouth and onto the back of Casey’s neck. Abdul flipped him, crashed onto him with his full body weight. It was no use. Casey gave up and collapsed. Sweat poured off Abdul’s face right into Casey’s eyes. Casey slapped the mat to make it stop and Abdul let him go. Body odor wafted from sweaty armpits as the men applauded Abdul’s round one victory over Casey. “Want to go again?” Abdul asked. He was breathing hard. In spite of his win, the kid had been a lot tougher than he anticipated. His eye was swelling shut and his mouth was bleeding a little. “I can take it,” said Casey. His thin skin was red with mat burns, head was throbbing. Was this really him? It was as if he couldn’t control the truth coming out of his mouth. It all felt right. He could take it. He loved the pain, in fact. Loved it. But didn't really want to think about it for the moment. Abdul nodded, stepped back, retired to the corner of the ring. Pedro was there, pouring more oil. “Don’t need that. Massage my shoulders.” Pedro looked at him a little helplessly, his light kitchen fingers not nearly meaty enough to knead the dense muscle mass that was Abdul’s traps, but he tried. After a few seconds, Abdul brushed him away, irritated. “Never mind,” he barked. Pedro’s eyes flashed hurt, and Abdul brought himself up to smile at him slightly. “You tried.” He patted the handsome boy’s face heavily with thick oily fingers, leaving a gleaming handprint on Pedro’s cheek. Pedro beamed ecstatically. He so hoped he could suck his god’s cock later, but didn’t dare to ask. Abdul turned back into the ring. He called to Schumacher. "Get your ass over here and massage my shoulders," Schumacher grunted and went to work on him, kneading the bunched masses with his thick, powerful fingers. Casey was still center, dancing from foot to foot, not caring that his massive tool was bobbing out of his posers. “Lookin’ good, Case,” yelled Obatu from the sidelines. He turned to Washington, sitting next to him. “Know him from Raw Weight.” “Yeah, Miles’ place. Gotta get there again soon.” “Good workouts.” He winked. “A little cash to be made, too.” “Yeah? Doin’ what?” “You know. Trainin’. Getting’ big. Growing. Flexing. Getting your dick sucked. You know.” “Oh, yeah.” Casey didn't know. But he forgot about it in a moment. The whistle blew. “Round two!” announced Moster. Casey and Abdul stepped towards each other, circled, each more wary. On the sidelines, Alvarez glanced over at Lang. Lang’s pants were open, his zipper down, his cock tumbling out of his khakis. He happily worked his long, extra-thick shaft. He glanced up at Alvarez and shrugged. “It’s hot,” he said. Alvarez had to acknowledge it was. “So why not?” Alvarez nodded agreement, opened his fly, with some difficulty pulled out his own already-stiff, mammoth member, and began to chug up and down the shaft with practiced, heavily calloused fingers. Lang looked down, grinned, licked his lips, winked at Alvarez. “Pose and approve later?” “We’ll see.” Lang knew there would be. This was too hot not to follow up with a long pose and approve session and some good butt fucking. But for now, both musclemen turned back to the match and standing side by side, together worked their cocks in silent unison. Their fists plunging up and down. A moment later, Waring, Duncan, and McIntyre had joined them. “Oh, yeah,” said McIntyre. squish squish squish squish squish squish squish squish And a moment after that, Hension, Chad, Meyer and Gunst had pulled their heavy cocks from their khakis and were applying basic spank the monkey techniques. squish squish squish squish squish squish squish squish Moster heard the squishing sounds of numerous big cocks being worked by powerful, pumping fists, looked up, glancing askance at the group. “Begging your pardon sir!” yelled out Hension. “We’re masturbating, sir!” “And why not?” said Moster, but he kept his cock in his pants. Still, out it poled. “Bring it, bitch!” yelled Casey as the two faced off in the center of the mat. “C’mon dude, we wrestlin’ or dancin’? Take a shot!” Abdul taunted. Both men seemed either oblivious to or uninterested in the fact that all around them, every man on the muscle squad was now actively jerking off. Casey shot out a lightning fast single leg. Abdul hopped over it and tried to pivot as Casey dove in, wrapped meaty arms around Abdul’s waist, and brought him violently down to the mat. Somehow Abdul flipped to his belly and Casey applied a painful hammerlock with one hand as he grabbed the back of his head with the other and rubbed his face in the mat. “How’s that mat taste?” Casey asked as Abdul grunted, struggling to turn his head to the side. On the sidelines, Pedro was frantic, seeing his big man suddenly so disgraced, however momentarily. Abdul tried to get off his stomach, but Casey slid his bulging quads down inside Abdul’s and drove his arm underneath his chin. Casey rolled onto his side and poured on the pressure. “Arrgghhhh!” Abdul groaned as Casey stretched him out. Pedro looked on, helpless with worry. “Ya like that, tough guy? Want some more?” Casey murmured between clenched teeth said as he pulled up harder on his chin, Casey totally wrapped around him. Abdul was completely immobilized. He groaned. “C’mon Abdul, you can take this!” Schumacher yelled. He too was now playing with himself freely. Lang, firing away on his stiff-as-iron cock, was laughing. “Put him on his back, Case! Finish him off.” Casey’s posers crept deep into his ass crack as he locked his legs around Abdul’s left leg. His rock hard glutes squeezed together as he wore the huge Turk down. Abdul tried to get free of Casey’s chin lock, but it was no use. He panted and groaned as Casey pulled his head down. “Got some lube?” asked Chad from the second row. The source was surprising. “Here,” said Schumacher, passing around tubes of the prime VALHALLA LABS signature cock-pumping oil. “Gift from the house.” “When did we start making this stuff?” asked Hension, looking down at the tube as he squeezed the warm lubricant onto his thick cockshaft. “Shut the fuck up,” said Lefevre, but he grinned good-naturedly, clapping Hension lightly on the back of the head. On the mat, Abdul suddenly switched it all out. He pried Casey’s hands from the chin lock and sank his arm around Casey’s neck, pulling him down to the mat and now choking him out. His drove his ankles down deep into Casey’s quads and he began to constrict his hold around his neck. Sweat poured off both men. The strong smells of perspiration, olive oil and butt wafted up into the overhead lights. It was now Casey’s turn again to groan in pain. Abdul’s powerful forearm was wrapped around his thick neck. Moster jumped into the ring, sticking his head into his face and asked Casey if he was ready to give up. Casey was grunting and struggling to breathe. Casey was unable to say the words I give. “Too soon,” he breathed out from under Abdul’s body mass. “Loosen up, man,” Moster said to Abdul, who nodded. Abdul loosened the hold so Casey could breathe, but he wasn’t done. Casey tried to get up, but Abdul still was controlling him. Then Abdul reached down and once again slid his hand down into Casey’s now-ripped posers. Casey looked angered as Abdul grabbed onto his thick cock. He handed off the poser to his foot, and peeled Casey’s poser down revealing the muscleboy’s huge penis. “In Turkish oil wrestling rules, the match is now over,” muttered Gunst from the sidelines, watching the mass of slippery muscle tumble on the mats. He rubbed the bulge in his pants, and glanced down. Straight up and out, past the belt line, up into his t-shirt, poling up above his belly. He unzipped and released his mass. “We done?” breathed Abdul. “No!” yelled Casey, now naked. “Naw, it’s way better than Turkish wrestling,” whispered Blankenship, now fondling his own stiff penis, still sheathed in khaki. Gunst looked him quizzically. “I like how it feels in my pants.” “Oh. Oh, yeah. Me too. Sometimes.” Gunst began pumping. “But not now.” Around the ring, all cocks were pumped a little more fiercely as the match intensified. “Okay then. We go for a pin.” Abdul moved his hand up to Casey’s head, rubbing it in his hair to get some sweat for lubricant. Then he came back rubbing Casey’s cock until it was rock solid. Out it poled, 12 inches and more. “Whatcha gonna do about it this time?” he sneered. The 17 bodybuilders were now all leaning in and pumping hard cocks, watching the sweaty jumble of muscle on the mat. Even Schumacher was now pumping furiously. As was Tiffany. For once the self-possessed little muscleboy let his guard down. He worked his cock ferociously, watching the dark match. “They’re pretty even,” said Warning. “Yeah,” said Chad. Next to him on the left, Obatu and Washington looked as if they were about to get up. A light flickered in Lang’s eye. Hension looked wildly around him. He was going to cum soon. Moster directed them all warningly, knowing where they were likely to go next. “Stay where you are, gents. No cumming. Men can hold it.” General moans. The men did as they were told. The wrestling room was silent except for the grunts of Casey and Abdul, the near-silent whirring of Dr. Irving’s video cam, the blue-balled moans and groans of the fleet of masturbating muscle giants, with the squeaky wet regular tattoo of lubricated palms working big cocks. Squish squish squish GRUNT GROANNNN squish squish squish squish squish squish “I SAID, DO NOT CUM!” Moster shouted suddenly. All jumped in their seats. “A man can withstand it!” All sat. 17 monster muscle cocks with nowhere to go but into calloused palms. For now. Up and down. Up and down. “Hey, Chad!” whispered Bogarde loudly. “Squeeze my nips!” Chad reached over to his right with his free hand (the other feverishly pumping his cock) and began violently tweaking Bogarde’s huge, downward-pointing think nipples. “Yeah, make me hurt, man!” Bogarde pleaded, working his cock. “You got it, man.” Squish squish squish UGH GROANNNN UGH UGH GROAN…. squish squish squish squish squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. Suddenly Abdul flipped, keeping his hold on Casey, who squirmed below. Casey was on his back now with Abdul on top, now in the north-south position. All Casey could see was Abdul’s bulging balls and the red singlet outline of his rigid cockshaft. Abdul lowered his balls onto Casey’s face and caught his head in between his legs. But Casey somehow spread his legs and reclamped behind Abdul’s neck. The two muscle monsters squeezed each other tight, rubbing crotches in each other’s face. Casey’s enormous penis brushed Abdul’s scratchy beard. “Ouch!” Casey cried. Finally Abdul broke the hold and swung around to face Casey, getting him in one of his killer headlocks. Once again, Casey was in trouble. But he managed to dig an elbow into Abdul’s groin. Abdul shouted and Casey pried himself free, stood, and turned. He lunged full weight at Abdul. Abdul was ready for him, grabbing his shoulders and shoving Casey’s face right into his and applying a submission hold. For a moment, they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Abdul drove Casey’s shoulders into the mat. “Ughhhh,” Casey moaned. Abdul had mounted him and was driving his elbow into his head. It was momentary. Casey flopped in his own sweat a moment, and then, with surprising swiftness, changed course, wrapping his hands behind Abdul’s neck and pulling him in toward his chest. He wrapped his legs tight around Abdul’s body and grunted as he started to gain control. Abdul and Casey slid around the mat, slipping out of each other holds as they tried desperately to get a submission out of each other. Suddenly, Casey managed to climb on Abdul’s back and slip his arm under his chin. His stiff cock slapped against his abs. “Shit!” Abdul yelled as Casey secured the choke. Casey squeezed harder. Suddenly Abdul was struggling to breathe. His face was beet red. And suddenly, it was over. Abdul slapped the mat furiously and Casey released his grip. He let out a whoop. He grabbed Abdul by the hair and lifted his head up, using his other arm to flex his biceps. Fast as a flash, Abdul grabbed his hand and twisted his wrist, ensuring Casey’s victory was a brief one – but it was too late. The image had been captured in the men’s brains. “Aweesummmm,” breathed Hension, once again, and to no one in particular. “Wait till I call it!” yelled Moster. “Fuck you,” said Abdul. He hunched back on his knees and locked Casey up in a kneeling position, pressing his slippery forehead into his and looking into his eyes. They panted for breath. Once again, as if alerted by a bugle charge, both suddenly sprang once again into action. Abdul managed to get a headlock on Casey and threw him to the mat. His cock slapped against his leg as Casey tried to turn to avoid getting pinned. Both were so sweaty and slick with the now hot oil that neither could get a good hold. The mat was an ocean of steaming sweat and oil, both men sliding in the mass of liquid. In the circle of chairs around the wrestling ring, the bodybuilders pumped their blood-engorged cocks feverishly. On the mat, Casey freed a hand and ripped Abdul’s singlet wide open. The Turk was enraged. His cock spilled onto the mat. Pedro leaned forward now openly licking his lips. “Please let us cum, sir!” pleaded Hension. “Okay…..guess I’ll play, too,” said Moster, studiedly lazily. He advanced into the center of the ring where the two muscle monsters lay, locked in sinew, sweat, and bronzed oil, their huge cocks flailing openly. “Men, why don’t you join me?” Moster smiled. He only had to ask once. In a heartbeat the 17 bodybuilders bolted from the chairs, clambering over one another and the rings to get to the center of the ring. Still, they waited breathlessly, cocks in hand, no one daring to make a further move. Abdul shot a look of helpless rage up to Moster, but Casey was holding him firm. Neither man could budge. squish squish squish squish GOOSH squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. And Moster unzipped. The largest black cock in the world poured out of his pants, flopping down to his knees. FLOPppp… In a second it was poled high, reaching nipple level. Moster grabbed it with his fist and slid his hands down it just three times. squish squish squish squish GOOSH squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. “I’m ready,” he said quietly. The bodybuilders circled the wrestlers, side by side. Casey stared at the huge, pendulous looming cocks above him, heavy dew drops of precum beginning to drip, oozing into the mass of mat liquid in which the two musclemen lolled in their struggles. It was as if it was the first time he had even noticed what the men were up to. “What are they doing??” he cried out to Moster. “What’s it look like, punk?” growled Abdul in his ear. Moster ignored him. “Pedro,” Moster invited graciously, “why don’t you get over here and join us?” Pedro didn’t have to be asked twice. He scampered gleefully into the circle, a little beautiful brown spot of handsome teenhood amidst a turbulent ocean of masturbating musclemen. He pulled out his own pretty little cock and began to pump fiercely, gleefully, staring hungrily at the huge muscle and looming penises all around him. After only a moment, he couldn’t stand being surrounded by the sea of cock without getting to his knees and starting to suck his way around the circle, feverishly. He started with Gunst, his pretty little mouth enveloping the massive organ. From the sidelines Dr. Irving began to walk rapidly behind the circle of men, panning his cam across the landscape of their solid glutes, huge, hard and round, squeezing and relaxing in tense, pumping cannonballs of butt muscle as they pumped their cocks feverishly. Backs of heads. Batwing lat spreads of knitted boulders of muscle. Delts touching. Hamstrings pounding with thick rivers of veins. Butts pumping. Irving got it all on cam. Someday he knew this video would be worth thousands….hundreds of thousands. He captured it all. From the mat below, Casey gazed up, exhausted and confused, bewildered and amazed at a sea of musclecock held high above him. Abdul merely growled. In a few seconds the waterfalls of cum would begin. He couldn’t admit to himself that he had wanted something like this to happen. “What’re they gonna do?” asked Casey, fearfully, muffled. Hmmmm, thought Moster as he pumped his organ. The white cap is wearing off. Probably from the match. If it was still in him, he’d have no problem. Still, it didn’t stop anything. The bodybuilders were groaning loudly now, pumping and flexing, rocking ball-toe-heel, their magnificently bodies undulating rhythmically. “Let ‘er rip!” Moster, now pumping furiously, looked to Dr. Irving, who had never stopped the video, nor moved. “You getting it all?” “Of course,” said Irving, irritated, shocked, perplexed and baffled as always - but never daring to shut down the cam. He could never understand what all this had to do with science, but never mind. He was well paid. “Muthafucker!” Hension screamed. “You boys about ready to shoot?” Moster asked. “Hang on. They ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” said Abdul. He squeezed Casey’s head as hard as he could. It wasn’t too long before Casey wriggled out of it and was on his hands and knees facing him. He came in at Abdul and tried to push him over onto his back, but the muscle Turk reached behind him and sunk his fingers right into Casey’s exposed anus. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Casey cried as Abdul used his rectum as a handle to flip him over. He slammed on his back on the mat. An ocean spray of sweat and oil sloshed into the air. And around them the squishing sounds of muscle jerking grew more frantic. “Oh, maaaaa—aaaan,” said Hension. “Hold off, men!” shouted Moster. "Santa mierda de Dios,” breathed Pedro, now frantically licking Obatu’s cock up and down its 12-inch length. Obatu’s pumping fist was punching him repeatedly in the nose. He didn’t care. He held the cock between his lips and sucked hard. Precum began to spurt down his throat. Squish squish squish UGH GROANNNN UGH UGH GROAN…. GOOOsh squish squish GOOOsh groannnn Ugh unnnghh squish squish squish squish squish squish UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. Casey and Abdul were in a mad final scramble now. Both knew the match was coming to an end. Abdul was enraged he somehow didn’t have the conditioning to go a full hour with Casey; it had only been 12 to 15 minutes in the ring, and no more – and he was wiped out. For his part, Casey was panting deeply and hot as a furnace, pushed to the max. And yet. And yet. Abdul knew Casey could outlast him. Casey, however much he might be forever on the bottom tonight, yet had a couple of hours of strength to go. It was only that he lacked the fighting technique Abdul had hard earned over the years. And this enraged the Turk. Abdul got behind Casey and sunk his arms between his legs, locking onto his other arm and driving his biceps into Casey’s balls. Abdul’s forearm pressed painfully against his thick penis. Casey couldn’t take it. He had to move, giving him enough space to maneuver. Dirty Turkish wrestling. Casey managed to get a “Fuck you”, but he was outclassed, totally helpless and defeated. “I gotta suck cock!” Lang shouted, and dove down in front of Alvarez. In a flash Alvarez’s meat was in his mouth, sluicing juicily down his throat. “Me too,” muttered Hension, who dropped down in front of Gunst. He bobbed and weaved with the mighty strokes Gunst was applying to his huge cock, ducking his head, trying to get his mouth around it. “Shit,” said Gunst. With his right hand he backhandedly smacked Hension’s face hard, grabbed the back of his head, clenched a handful of hair; with his left hand he clutched his cock and rammed it down Hension’s throat. Hension began to violently suck muscle giant’s firehouse cock while working his own and never taking his eyes off the grappling musclemen on the mat. Abdul had Casey’s legs now, lifting him up so Casey was upside down, sliding down Abdul’s back till his head hit the mat and he was facing his ass. His nose went right into Abdul’s exposed ass crack for a minute while the Turk kept tilting his head back to put pressure on Casey’s balls. But Casey rallied. Groaning, straining, working hard, he trapped Abdul’s head in a figure 4, squeezing his face right into his balls as he pinned him. “Yer so eager to see my cock, so get an eyeful of it now,” he hissed. Abdul tried to snarl back, but he could only groan. He was getting tired. And the muscleboy had hours of energy ahead of him. He could feel it. Moster had a hard time seeing if the Turk was pinned or not, the men were so wrapped up in an oily mass of muscled quads, rippling traps, batwing lats, boulder biceps, brick-like abs, pounding glutes, pounding feet, pounding fists, and bulging balls. But it wasn’t looking so good for the Turk. UGH UGH UGH GROAN…. The squad, now in deep sex frenzy, was by now beyond observing the details of combat. Blankenship and Waring had each dropped to their knees, sucking the heavy, veiny cocks of Chad and Washington. Schumacher grabbed Meyer, flipped him around, pulled down his khakis, and plunged his cock mercilessly into his welcoming butthole as the handsome deaf mute played gleefully with his engorged manhood. He began to fuck him with deep and powerful strokes. Meyer smiling ecstatically and waved his mighty butt under the cock blows. He reached back and pried his buttcheeks wide. His asshole was as open as he could get it. He spread his legs. Schumacher’s thick cock was in action, driving, pounding, fucking. Squish squish squish fuckfuckfuck UGH GROANNNN UGH UGH GROAN…. Moster could see where it was headed on the mat. Abdul had taken the first two pins. But Casey was just getting started. He was mad now. The effect of the white caps was weaving in and out, true, and Casey was responding as if he was on mushrooms. But his huge muscles were gleaming with power. Every vein was bursting. Sweat was pouring off both men. And Abdul was breathing hard. But he still had the upper hand. Still, Moster pumped harder. He had to admit: this was pretty hot. Pedro looked at him adoringly, moved to take Moster’s cock in his mouth. Moster pushed him back roughly. “Get away, son,” he barked. Pedro looked frightened and abashed. Moster smiled slightly, an eyebrow arched. “You being a bad boy? Might have to tan your hide later,” he murmured. Pedro looked hopeful but the fear still glistened slightly. He glanced down at Moster’s powerful fist, now stroking his massive meat up and down, up and down. “Your hand could kill my butt!” he squeaked. “Not your butt, little boy. Not yours. Now get out of my way. Go suck Private Duncan’s cock.” Moster tossed a glance at Duncan, who was busily working his dick. Pedro scampered away, ran to Duncan, and knelt before him. “The C.O. says I have to suck your cock,” he cried out, and gathered the mighty pole into his mouth. Duncan was startled. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t mind.” Pedro knelt and went right to work on Duncan’s massive tool. He was particularly excited by the latticework of heavy veins surrounding the muscleman’s member. He began to trace his finger along the thick rivers of vascularity as he sucked. Duncan spread his legs wide. He grabbed Pedro’s black hair in his fist and began to steadily pump his hips into the boy’s face. On the mat, more spent than he wanted to admit, Casey stared up at the circle of musclemen above and around him. Four of the musclemen were sucking musclecock now. The little Mexican teenager was scampering about sucking musclecocks as they were freed up. Schumacher was fucking the cute little muscleguy’s awesome glutes. The other 7 musclemen were straddling the mat edges now, massive quads akimbo, pumping serious cock. And the CO Sergeant Moster had his cock out, too. It was the biggest penis Casey had ever seen in his life. Even bigger than his own. Which was huge. As he stared, he lost focus. And in a flash, Abdul had flipped him again and was straddling his pecs with his own huge body and pressing for an advantage. Casey couldn’t move. The sounds of musclesex filled the wrestling room. On the sidelines, Dr. Irving was capturing it all on video. GOOOsh squish slurp suck suck slurp squish GOOOsh groannnn SUCKSUCK LICK SLURP fuckkkk Casey grunted. A surge of energy hit him. He tried a duck under, but Abdul kept the upper hand. As he went down to his knees on the mat, Casey kept his left arm welded to the Turk’s shoulder, pulling out to his side and anchoring his right hand deep in his anus. “Turkish rules, right?” Casey snarled into Abdul’s ear, beginning to chew on the lobe. He was back in control again. The Turk let out a short gasp as he felt Casey’s index finger work up into his asshole, a big grin on his face. Abdul wanted to smash those perfect teeth in, but he was too busy trying to pry the muscle giant kid’s finger out of his butthole. With a sudden rush of White Cap adrenaline, Casey moved his right arm around Abdul’s waist, mounted him and broke him down so his belly was flat on the mat. He managed a gut wrench and turned him over once, but he was too tough and was able to counter Casey’s leverage with his strength. Moster knew he had to step in. He couldn’t afford to have Abdul so badly defeated. Not yet. Not at the outset of Casey’s career. Sure, Casey Rockland was a muscle outlier. There may never have been a muscleman like him before, and there may not be another again. But it was too soon for the legend to emerge. For the good of the program, Casey had to lose tonight. And it didn’t look as if he was going to. So Moster did the one thing he could do, to save Abdul’s neck. Moster blew the whistle and reached in. He grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks and powerfully brought them up to their knees. Casey was stunned, dizzy, swirling with confusion and excitement and pain and frenzy all at once. Abdul’s rage was huge but not huge enough to allow his own massive tool to go limp. Both muscle monsters were sporting huge erections. And the men around them were pumping and sucking and fucking furiously. Ugh unnnghh groan moan slurp suck squish squish squish slurp suck suck squish squish squish AH AHH AHHHHHH yeah yeah yeah UNNNGHHHH AAAAHHHHHH!!!! Moster stepped forward, grabbed his mighty cock, knelt down next to the knotted figures of muscle, and began to shoot cum in the Turk’s face. SPURT! BLAST!! AAAHHH YEAH!!! Gallons of gobs of white creamy cum shot maniacally from his deeply creased piss slit. And the biggest cock in the world, on the biggest bodybuilder in the world, began to throb and spurt hot liquid rivers of jism onto the Turk’s face. “FUCKING HELL!” roared Abdul. ‘GODDAMN YOU MOSTER!!!” And the cum spilled, coating his roaring face, filling his mouth and nostrils, dripping down his chin. Moster was aiming it, like a firehose. “On the Turk, men!” he shouted. And with that…all hell let loose.
  18. Hello, all...here is the long-awaited Wrestling Chapter......to catch up where you were before, I highly recommend you look at the other chapters first..... Links to other chapters: "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 / A Brief History of Casey Rockland / Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 6 - Casey is Discovered at Miles Donovan's Gym "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Pt. 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale, Continued / The Men Hit the Showers "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11 - Casey Meets the Muscle Squad Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. Chapter 12: Part 1 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match Five minutes later, Karim Abdul was striding down the corridor, pecs bouncing, headed for the wrestling room. Still carrying his clothes from Casey’s presentation, he was now dressed only in his red Lycra wrestling singlet. His step was deliberate, his gait powerful. As he walked he grumbled to himself, ignoring the low clamor of the rest of muscle squad, who followed eagerly behind. His cock, loose in the singlet, swayed heavily from side to side as he walked, his balls pushed forward. “Asswipe kid.” The rest of his thoughts were a little too vague for words. Thoughtlessly he grabbed his cock and got it momentarily out of the way of his quads, pumping as he walked. Most of the squad was keeping a good 20 yards of distance between themselves and Karim Abdul. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of a wild Abdul punch at this moment. Even Schumacher, McIntyre, and Duncan, men who could well defend themselves and were used to Abdul’s occasional wild swings, were keeping themselves at a cautious distance. Karim knew he had to mark his territory. Now, tonight, and fast. No questions asked. Leaving nothing to second-guessing. After all, even he had to admit it - this kid was fucking unbelievable. He was huge, he was cut, he was raw, he was handsome, he was young, he was unbelievably hung. And at only 18 years of age, he was still growing. Karim wouldn’t rest until he’d smashed the kid’s handsome face into the mat. And maybe pissed in his mouth, too. Something. Something like that. Yeah. Show him who was in charge. But - it was all – well, a little unformed. Even to him. He passed the door leading to the back of the kitchen. He bashed the door open with his fist, smashing the frame and cracking the thick glass. Inside, Pedro, Abdul’s handsome little kitchen cocksucking buttboy, was sweeping up. “Your ass in the wrestling room. Bring that 10-pound canister of olive oil. MOVE!!! NOW!” commanded Abdul. Pedro jumped a mile. Then Abdul was gone, continuing on down the corridor. Pedro immediately put the broom away, washed his hands - his musclegod demanded clean fingernails - climbed up a little ladder to one of the shelf larders, and grabbed a 10 gallon jug of olive oil. Carrying it with some difficulty, he nevertheless darted out the door and ran excitedly after Abdul. "Wait for me!" the eager boy squeaked. He was about to get an awesome muscle show. Maybe suck some massive cock. Wow! Further ahead, Abdul was a man on a mission. And coming up behind him and running by was Private Tiffany. Abdul didn’t like that asswipe, either. Great glutes, though. Perfect glutes. Big, hard, striated boulders. Yeah. Fuckable. Most inviting. He’d fuck the little asswipe’s butt one day and then push his face in the toilet. Yeah. He continued on, paying little notice, though he did allow himself a quick, cool glance at the muscleboy’s rolling, muscular boybutt as he scampered by. From the corridor somewhere behind Abdul, Schumacher was shouting to Tiffany. “Where you going?” he demanded to know. “Getting Dr. Irving!” “Who?” Tiffany turned back, running backwards, explaining patiently as if to a child. “The dude with the camera. Ever notice him? Probably not…” He waved Schumacher off with easy, grinning contempt, turned back and scooted happily up the corridor towards Dr. Irving’s office. Schumacher swore to himself. He had to acknowledge he had no idea who Tiffany was talking about. He rarely noticed the lab workers or other doctors, barely paying attention to even Dr. Zaftig himself. He returned his gaze to Karim, striding purposefully up the hall ahead of him. Karim Abdul’s rocky man glutes rumbled darkly as he walked, and Schumacher gazed into the impenetrable deep butt crack outlined in the red Lycra. Excepting only the cloaked, anonymous butt fucking nights, no one other than powerfucker Schumacher had yet penetrated Karim’s magnificent asshole. Ever. “At least I have that much,” Schumacher muttered. By now he was passing the open office door. Tiffany, his back to the corridor, was hurriedly explaining to some geeky lab coat doctor who Schumacher had never noticed before, saying something about Get the camera out, asshole, and Come with me now…. Schumacher paused for a moment in the office doorway to admire Tiffany’s butt sweep in his tight regulation khakis. His full, hard, rounded glutes were a most enticing display in his slacks, the rear pockets rounded with the curvature of pure muscle, promising the pleasures that lay beneath. Joe Tiffany Now there was a butt to fuck. He grunted and continued down the corridor, following Karim. In truth he didn’t know why he was heading off with the others to the wrestling ring, and especially at this hour. He should be headed off to bed, a quick JO instant replay of the group shower suck / group butt lick he’d enjoyed just 40 minutes earlier, and then plenty of shuteye for another brutal workout tomorrow. That was the life. And another day to plan on getting into Tiffany’s butt. Another day to strategize some deep cock / muscleboybutt frottage sessions. Another day to – “Hey, Schumacher.” It was McIntyre. “Where you going? This way.” He’d walked right past the wrestling room door. “Oh.” He retraced his steps. As he came back, a little sheepishly, Alvarez and Lang were in the doorway. Lang’s tongue was practically lolling out of his head in anticipation, and even cool customer Alvarez had an excited gleam in his eye. “What do you assholes think is gonna happen?” snarled Schumacher as he strode by, pushing past them into the wrestling room. Alvarez put his hands up in mock defensiveness. “Oh, nothing, nothing. We just thought we might want to watch.” “Yeah, we wanna watch nothing happen,” smirked Lang. Both men mockingly bowed as Schumacher went by, Alvarez of course taking the lead, with puppydog Lang following suit. Schumacher glanced down at their packed flies bulging out of their khakis as he strode by. “You both sure got big enough hard-ons, just to watch nothing happen.” Lang looked defensive. Alvarez just laughed, and gently patted Lang’s growing bulge. “Yeah, guess we do.” He nodded and winked, and went inside the wrestling room. Lang followed, and even had the temerity to wink at Schumacher as he went by. Alvarez threw his arm around Lang and playfully squeezed his ass. Faggots, thought Schumacher. His own cock roared to life in his pants and was soon poling straight out and upward. He glanced back down the corridor. Moster and Casey were rounding the corner. Moster had changed out of his sweats, and was now in the regulation Valhalla Labs green t-shirt and tight khakis. Casey still had only his micro posing trunks on. Behind them scurried Dr. Irving, carrying Casey’s sweats and his video equipment. He was babbling on his cellphone. Probably talking to the insane dude who ran the place. Zaftig. Moster noted the ruined kitchen door and sighed. “Another door,” he grumbled. These dudes, when they got pissed off. It’s not like Valhalla Labs was a bottomless money source. Close, but not bottomless. He nodded at Schumacher and gestured briefly for him to go into the wrestling room ahead of them. Schumacher scowled, but did as he was directed. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes, Sergeant Moster?” Irving scurried to catch up to them. “Do you have a white cap on you?” “Why…yes….” Moster knew he would. The little doctor had long since learned that anything could happen when the men gathered, and he made it a point to carry extra medication with him at all times. And there was no sense in irritating Moster with a “Why, no.” He wouldn’t put it past the giant black muscle monster to deck him with one mighty punch in the nose if displeased, which would no doubt kill him. He scrambled and produced a small medication bottle. Moster turned to Casey, struggling a little to keep up, halfway between a walk and a run, his black shiny micro poser barely covering his steadily bobbing cock as he ran. “Here,” said Moster. “Take this.” “Hunh?” Casey stopped full. “Take it. Don’t ask questions.” “What—what is it?” “Extra confidence.” “Drugs?” Casey was momentarily stumped. He remembered that the boys in the Home were always experimenting. It made them silly and weak. He wanted no part of it. “I don’t do drugs.” Moster motioned to Irving. “Go on and set up, we’ll meet you there.” He turned to Casey. “It’s not a drug. Not like you think.” “I don’t do no steroids, neither.” “Not a ‘roid. There is no man in this facility on the juice. We have to do something about your grammar, by the way.” “Then how –“ “Shut up and take it. I will explain later. You will be fine.” Casey gulped, put his faith in Moster, and did as he was told. He popped the pill in his mouth, and smiled with weak subservience at Moster. “Okay, sir.” “What was that?” “I..I mean, Yes, Sir!” “That’s better.” Moster turned and continued down the corridor, Casey scampering after him. Good thing the men still do what I tell them to do, thought Moster. And how long is that gonna last with this boy? Once he finds his power? Moster tucked that thought away. “Let’s go watch you wrestle. You do wrestle, you said?” “Yeah, but I’m scared…” “No need to be.” “…no..…scared I’ll hurt him. I always do….” Except, of course, Ramon Ramon, the much smaller wrestler at Raw Weight Gym who never failed to thoroughly pin the muscleboy. But of course, that was a long time ago. Inside the wrestling room Karim had already snapped on the overhead lights and was doing deep knee bends in the middle of the 20 sq foot wrestling ring, which dominated the center of the room. The thick blue mat of the ring gleamed in the overhead lights, with the VALHALLA LABS logo in the center. Around the ring on two raised platforms were about 40 folding chairs, all affording perfect, elevated views of any wrestling action. Pedro stood eagerly on the side, now holding towels and a water bottle. “Getting limbered up to better meet the kid?” called out Blankenship. He had already grabbed his ringside seat, he too adjusting his crotch as he sat. “Shut the fuck up,” said Karim, squatting. To Pedro he shot out, “Where the fuck is the oil? Get the oil.” Pedro shot off into a storage room and returned with a 5-gallon jug of olive oil. “Goin’ for Turkish wrestling, hunh, Karim?” Chad was grabbing a seat ringside. He nudged Waring. “This is gonna be good.” No answer from Karim. “The kid’s got an iron grip, I’m told,” called out Waring, nudging Eli Meyer’s ribs as he took a seat next to him. Meyer’s mouth hung open in a perennial smile. He pointed to his mouth so Meyer could read his lips. “I said, Casey Rockland’s got an iron grip.” “I heard you.” Obatu was next, leaning against the ropes. “And those quads be killers. He gets you in a lock hold, you gonna be dead in the water. What’re ya gonna do about that, Mr. Abdul, sir?” Karim didn’t answer, regarding them all stonily. Obatu lazily returned his gaze, smiling, unintimidated. Blankenship had started this. But Blankenship had easily dodged the intended receiving end of a few near-miss wild roundhouse punches in the past. He was too fast and too alert to be caught unawares, and Karim Abdul had learned not to waste his energy on him. So Karim suffered the men’s ready comments stoically. “This kid got veins like this?” he asked, flexing his 25-inch biceps, showing off half-inch thick rivers of veins, pulsing with power. “Yeah, I think, actually, he does,” said Blankenship with a smile. “Here he is now. Let’s see. Kid, you got veins like his?” Moster and Casey had appeared at the opposite door, the darkened end of the wrestling room. Both giants approached, in black silhouette against the framed light from the corridor, getting larger as they quietly walked toward the ring. Casey looked up quizzically at the question. “Flex your biceps,” whispered Moster. “Hunh?” “Flex, man. Don’t ask stupid questions. Flex it up. Now.” “ ’kay.” Casey stopped and hammered out a front double bi. 25 inches of his own, in response to Abdul. As always, he felt compelled to go on, adding side chest, front lats, quads, and sent a hand probingly down rippled, hardrock abs. “That good?” “Good, good,” muttered Moster. “You catch on fast. You ever compete, kid?” “Uh…..no……should I? Other guys are so much bigger than me….” Moster smiled. They all think that, at the beginning. “Get over here, plebe,” Abdul called out from the center of the ring. Pedro was standing on a stool, pouring the olive oil over his massive physique, worshipfully slathering him up. Casey in Silhouette Casey stared. “What’s all that….?” he stammered. Moster noted that the white cap hadn’t taken effect yet, but then it had only been a few minutes. “Now, Karim,” said Moster patiently, coming into the light as they approached the ring. “You know Casey is not a plebe.” Abdul started to speak. “Nor is he a cadet. He is now one of you. He makes us The Twenty. You need to accept this,” he continued, walking and speaking easily now as he pulled up the ropes and stepped into the wrestling ring. He approached the angry giant muscle Arab. “And he isn’t threatening you. Casey isn’t going to pull your power away from you.” “That’s not what this is about.” “Bullshit,” one of the men yelled. The others laughed. Abdul glared at them and went on. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Moster, sir,” said Abdul. “I just want to make sure he’s going to be worth my time to train with.” He smiled easily. “That’s all.” The oil was dripping off him onto the mat. Moster said nothing. Casey was now visibly nervous. Still outside the ropes, he leaned in to Moster. “They gonna reject me?” he whispered loudly. “I mean, now?” “No one’s rejecting you,” said Moster loudly. He then turned to the waiting group of musclemen. “Are you, boys?” Something about that ‘boys’ rankled Abdul even further, though Alvarez and Gunst just smiled. The others looked perplexed. “Since when are we boys?” squealed Hension. “Shut up, Hension,” said Chad. “You ever wrestle, boy?” Abdul called out. “His name is Casey. Or Private Rockland.” “I asked you a question, boy. Ever wrestled? Get your butt into the ring.” “You really want all this oil?” sighed Moster. “We’re gonna wrestle Turkish style.” “It’s messy.” “I’ll clean it up, sir!” squeaked Pedro. “Bet your ass you will.” “Yeah, you don’t want a spanking, now, do you?” yelled Lang. He adjusted in his chair, his glutes still smarting from the paddling he’d received earlier that evening. Moster’s cock twitched a little at the suggestion of paddling handsome young Pedro’s hard, receiving little boybutt, a pleasure he had not yet allowed himself, although the teenage boy’s firm little butt cheeks had always been particularly inviting in his kitchen whites. He ignored it for now, however. Later, he thought. Casey shot a look at Moster. “What’s this about spankings?” he asked. Moster ignored the question. “Get in there.” “Yes, sir.” Casey climbed obediently into the ring. Moster watched him closely. The white cap should be taking effect in a moment…. “Oil him up,” commanded Abdul. Pedro ran over to him with the stool and the olive oil, climbed up, and began to pour it all over Casey’s massive physique. The sheer size and beauty of his muscles was overwhelming to the little Mexican, and his own powerful little cock began to bulge in his pants. After a moment, Casey was drenched in the shiny, thick liquid. The two musclemen stood face to face, Abdul in his tight singlet, fearsome muscles gleaming in the light, looming with threatening power. Casey was still in his micro, bulging posers, wet now with slick oil, the top 6 inches of his massive, meaty cockshaft fully exposed, blond tendrils of pubic hair curling with thick radiance. He was embarrassed, humiliated that his huge penis was twitching outwards in anticipation of what-was-coming-next. But then he noticed – Abdul’s oily, pylon-thick tool was also clearly coming to life in the thin singlet. “Good. Now, you got some mighty fancy muscles. But that doesn’t mean much here. We all got fancy muscles.” “You’re not being very polite, Corporal Abdul, “ said Moster, moving to the sidelines. “I think the men ought to introduce themselves before we get into any personal demonstrations of our manhood. Don’t you agree?” Even the ever-present log in lying against Moster’s pants leg was firmly outlined and appeared to be twitching a little, and the thin khaki fabric of his slacks covering it was now smooth and tight. Slowly the 17 others bodybuilders rose from their seats around the ring, one by one. 38 pairs of eyes stared at Casey intently. He glanced at the cocky little Joe Tiffany, and then over at Corporal Schumacher, who was now looking at him expectantly. “Okay, now, boy. This is Turkish wrestling. There are clear rules, but they’re different from American collegiate.” “Hang on,” said Moster. “We’ll get to the Turkish rules of wrestling in a moment. He stepped into the ring and approached Casey, now thick and dripping with oil. The men were now gathered on two sides of the ring, leaning on the ropes, leaning in to see what was coming next. For any other cadet introduced into the ranks, Sergeant Moster would have generally proceeded to paddle Casey’s hard young butt as the formal ritual of initiation. Last had been Private Tiffany receiving the red-hot butt cheek welcome, which he had borne stoically and proudly, displaying the twin globes of burnt-cherry perfection under the paddling. And after all, they had all gone through it, excepting Abdul, of course. Even Schumacher had known the firm, unrelenting hand of Moster on his butt. Hazing was hazing. But tonight, that didn’t seem to be happening. Abdul’s interesting wrestling challenge has precluded that. All were watchful. “Men, introduce yourselves. I was going to do this tomorrow, at Casey’s first workout, but now seems as good a time as any.” He turned to Casey and smiled. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to remember all their names just yet,” he added. “That’s good. I’m not very good with names.” “You’ll know them all, in time.” One by one, each man introduced himself. “My name is Private Leo Jin,” said the Asian man. “I’m 25 and from San Diego. I have been in the Project 8 years. My best bodypart is my forearms.” To prove it, the handsome Asian brought his beefy, fetchingly oversized forearms, walloping with solid muscle and veins, and squeezed the muscles hard. “I’m Private Dan Gunst, and until today, I had the biggest biceps here – except for Sergeant Moster’s.” Gunst flexed his mighty guns and then gave Casey a half-cocked smile. “Guess yours are bigger,” he proffered, respectfully. “I saw that this afternoon.” Moster glanced at him questioningly. “Oh, yeah,” he added. “I’m from Milwaukee, I’m 27, and I have been in the program 3 years. Hi, Casey. Welcome again.” “Hi, Dan!” Gunst sat back down. Moster eyed Casey carefully, wondering when the little capsule might take effect. Casey seemed cheerful and happy. Around the circle they went, each muscleman getting to his feet, politely introducing himself, offering basic information, and then showing him his best bodypart. “I’m Steve Waring, and my best bodypart is my traps.” Bulge. Flex. Steve Waring “I’m Rene LeFevre, and my best bodypart are my pecs.” Surge. Bloom. Bulge. “I’m David Duncan, and my best bodypart are my triceps.” Rip. Bulge. Bloom. Flex. “I’m Schumacher.” He said nothing else but grudgingly offered a front lat spread. Casey nodded without expression. This guy was not to be messed with. Eli Meyer signed with ASL. Casey nodded, showing some intelligence. Moster was pleased. Then Meyer turned around, bent over, grabbed his ankles, and showed off his hams, bulging through the khakis. He turned back and Casey gave him the OK and thumbs up sign. “I’m Chris Hension, and my best bodypart – “ “Is my FACE!” shouted Corporal LeFevre. “I’m a refugee from a lost episode of ’21 Jump Street’!” “Smack me around a little and I’ll follow you forever!” added Chad. “He’s our little boyband musclepup,” explained Blankenship. “Shut up,” yelled Hension, visibly embarrassed once again to be labeled the squad pretty boy. All the men were laughing now. “My best body part is my quads.” He started to rotate them. “And my baby blue eyes,” shouted LeFevre again. Hension was confused and humiliated but continued to show his quads, blooming in his tight khakis. “I think it’s his butt!” said Waring. “It’s okay, Chris,” said Casey. “Your quads are awesome.” Hension looked up, hopefully, and Casey felt compelled to go on. “And I think you’re very handsome indeed.” Hension smiled hugely at Casey, his heart beating a little faster. Gee, he thought. Wow. He gazed at Casey, who was now turning his attention to Private Waring. “I’m Private Ryan Waring, and my best bodypart are my delts.” He extended a powerful arm and began to rotate it. Suddenly Hension spoke up again. “I’m 22,” he blurted out, “and I’m from Toledo!” The men laughed again, and Hension hung his head a little and stuck out his lower lip. Next to him, Chad patted his thigh comfortingly. Casey saw him wink at Hension, who straightened up a little and smiled weakly. Casey’s head was spinning. He was inspired past all understanding by the mind-boggling panorama of muscle before him. And he was part of it. About then, he noticed that the room seemed to be getting a little brighter and a little hotter. He was staring again at Moster’s leg log. “Private Lang,” said Lang. “I’m 28, I’m from Lansing, Michigan, and….” He looked a little helplessly at Alvarez, sitting next to him. “My best body part is……um….” “Your back. Your lats are your best body part,” said Alvarez with quiet encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it’s my lats.” He turned and flared his lats wide. Alvarez clapped him approvingly on his butt. Lang smiled and sat, and Alvarez got up. “I’m Corporal Julio Alvarez, I’m 32, I’m from El Paso, and my best bodypart are my biceps.” He flexed. “Gunst’s are bigger but mine have sick peaks.” He popped them back and forth. “See?” Casey was indeed impressed. “Nice. Sick.” Gunst yelled in good-humored protest and flexed his own guns. Casey looked between Alvarez and Lang. Alvarez glanced over at Lang. “No, we’re not related,” he said. “They’re just joined at the wrist and ankles,” called out Gunst. “More like mouth and cock,” muttered Blankenship loudly, winking at Casey. It was Private Tiffany’s turn. “Casey and I will be meeting privately soon,” he boasted, and made a show of wiping the corner of his lips with his index finger. The men laughed knowingly – all but Corporal Schumacher, who looked down into his lap and seethed a little. Moster watched him intently. Something has to be done about Tiffany. But he didn’t worry. Though Tiffany didn’t know it yet, something was already happening. Casey felt a touch flushed, but his head was suddenly amazingly clear. Suddenly he spoke. “And what’s your best bodypart?” he asked. The stammer was gone, but only Moster noticed it. “What do you think?” Joe Tiffany turned around, bent over and grabbed his ankles. He pulled his gym shorts tight at the crack of his butt and proudly displayed his magnificent bodybuilder glutes. “Cupcakes!” said Gunst gleefully. The men howled. Schumacher made a show of laughing, but all he could do was glare. “Wow,” said Casey calmly. “Very pretty.” Tiffany's Butt after Squats Moster smiled inwardly. Good. He’s responded. And this boy responds well to White Caps, he thought. “No one’s had it yet,” said Tiffany confidingly as he straightened up and turned around, tucking his t-shirt back into his shorts. Then he winked. “Except in group.” “Group?” Casey was obviously perplexed. The men shouted with laughter, which died down sheepishly as, looking around the room, each man eventually shrugged and acknowledged it was probably true. None of them had had Tiffany yet. “I haven’t, anyway,” grumbled Schumacher, and the men laughed again. Tiffany sat back down and ignored Schumacher’s look. “Too bad,” said Casey. “Shame to waste such a pretty little behind.” The laughter died down and the men stared at Casey. No one knew what to say. “What’s ‘group’?” repeated Casey. Silence. On the sidelines, Alvarez raised his head a little. He exchanged looks with Moster. White cap? he mouthed. Moster looked away. Alvarez smiled and leaned in. He nudged Lang in the ribs. “Ow,” said Lang. “This is gonna be good,” said Alvarez in a low voice. “And I’m Karim Abdul. My best bodypart? My whole fucking physique is my best bodypart. As you are about to find out.” He flexed, whipping through pose after pose, his heavy cock bulge, dripping with oil, whipping left to right in his wrestling singlet. Snap. Snap. Snap. Casey could hear it slapping against his thighs through the man’s singlet. “All very impressive,” said Casey, looking pointedly at it. Moster smiled again. The cap had taken effect. “Okay. Turkish wrestling. Rules. One: there are few rules.” Abdul ticked off the rules on his fingers. “Submission: the “crush.” A fighter can get his opponent onto his stomach and then trap him by sprawling on top. If I can keep you down with your face, I can then turn you on a half-nelson for a pin.” “What if you can’t do it?” asked Casey bluntly. “If I can’t crush you, the referee has to begin us again from a standing position.” He ticked off another finger and looked Casey right in the eye. “I am not restricted from placing my hands inside my opponent’s kispet…” “Hunh?” “Your poser. I can also use the waistband to hold you in place. If I yank your poser so far below your hips that you are exposed, I win. Okay. If I can lift you entirely off the ground … “Fat fucking chance.” “Whoa,” breathed Hension. The temperature in the room seemed to raise 15º. Abdul paused, tense, and continued. “…and carry you five paces in any direction, that is a “carrying” pin. Got it?” “Yep.” “Okay.” Abdul looked at Casey. “You wanna go?” “What are we waiting for?” “Let’s wrestle,” said Abdul. He clapped his hands together and strode into the center of the ring. Ever since the mention of ‘group’, Abdul had been a touch shaky – or so Moster thought. Still can’t acknowledge how much he likes musclebutt. To say nothing of getting pissed on,” thought Moster. “Sure thing,” Casey answered, slick with oil and now quietly confident. Pedro scampered to the side of the ring and squatted eagerly to watch. Abdul began to bounce around, heel-toe, heel-toe, flexing his fingers, stretching his arms behind his head, limbering up. “Let’s go, man.” “You got it, man.” Casey hunkered down. “Center of the ring, gents,” said Moster. The men began to circle one another. “You wrestle till one of you gets a pin,” Moster instructed, now in the ring and getting between them. Casey flexed his biceps. “Big peaks, man. Like ‘em?” “Seen bigger,” said Abdul. He crunched forward, did a most muscular, his veins popping like railroad tracks. “How ‘bout you? Like what you see, faggot?” he asked. Casey just smiled, hunkered lower. Abdul palmed the crotch of his singlet. Casey smiled and refused to look down. He grabbed his own crotch, pendulously looming in his bulging posers. “Big handful, man.” “Watch it, boys,” said Moster. “This is a friendly get-to-know-you match.” “I already know him,” said Abdul. Moster snapped his fingers to Dr. Irving, now on the unpopulated side of the mat and with his ever-present video camera whirring. He dug in the pocket of his white lab jacket, wordlessly tossing him a whistle. Casey and Abdul met each other in the center of the mat and stared one another down. Their noses touched. Abdul grinned, ear to ear. Casey followed suit. Both began to gleam with anticipatory sweat. “Wow…..” breathed Hension. His hand shot down into his pants and he began massaging his stiffening tool. Moster pushed the two apart and blew his whistle to start the match. “And……wrestle!!” CLICK HERE FOR PART 2!
  19. Hialmar

    The third report

    Yes, I know: Another one too similar to the ones I have written in the past, but I wanted to let it out of my system. I hope someone will enjoy it anyhow. The third report "Initiating the third report. It is now... Ehhhh... 1308 hours on the appointed date, and the test subject has entered the chamber. If I may speak frankly, Sir, I would lie, if I told you, that I am not disappointed by your absence, but I hope, that this voice report will reach you, as soon as you will be back from your emergency mission. Our research project is proceeding slightly ahead of schedule, which is a good sign. As I mentioned in the first report and the second report, it seems like I have been able to bring the levels of pain down to the negligible, and I have also found a way to alleviate the residual pain, which will silence those who doubted that The Procedure would be within the perimeters of the ethical guidelines. Present in Lab 2 is me – that is Dr. Dubois – Guard number 4, Test Subject X1 and Test Subject X2. Test Subject X3 is already inside the chamber, awaiting the presumed effect of The Procedure. The same is presently working on a level of 23%, and we are thereby beyond the former upper limit of 20%." The sound of heartbeats and the beeping sound of a pulse meter. A hissing sound. "I am increasing the saturation of interior atmosphere, and activate the binaural-isochronic subliminals. The blood pressure of Test Subject X3 is decreasing, probably as a side effect of the analgetic stimulus. The prophylactically administered myostatin inhibitors are expected to have reached full impact by now, and it is now three days since Test Subject X3 was initially injected with the DNA-altering virus. The time schedule for injection of testosterone-enhancers was slightly re-arranged into a pattern deemed more optimal: The first one before sleep yesterday evening, the second one at reveille, and the third one at 1300 hours, now ten minutes ago. An increased production of perspiration is noticed." The sound of heartbeats and the beeping sound of a pulse meter. The hissing sound continued. "The Test Subject decide to use one of the reclining chairs, according to previous agreement: If the analgesics would make him dizzy, he would not hesitate to recline. We don't want the Test Subject to pass out and fall over, since the possibility to evacuate the chamber during peak Procedure is scant. Wait! It seems like something is happening now." The heartbeats and the pulse meter faster now. A muffled sound, almost impossible to hear. "The pulse of the Test Subject is increasing, and a visible re-structuring of his bone-structure is occurring. Since X1 was so typically mesomorph before Procedure, and since X2 belonged to an endomorph body type, we haven't been able to observe skeletal re-arrangement to the same extent before. As you will see in the statistic files, Sir, Test Subject X3 belong to an ectomorph body type, and if it is possible to expose men of his shape to The Procedure, its usefulness will increase manifold, of course. You will be amazed when you study the film sequence of this particular experiment. It is truly amazing! What was he when the experiment began? 170 centimetres? Well, 168 centimetres – about 5 feet 6 inches. And while X2 was overweight when Test 2 began, Test Subject X3 followed a normal weight curve, bordering to the underweight. 55 kilogrammes. Oh! Look at that! I didn't thought that that was even possible!" The muffled sound louder now, but still muffled, like by a very thick glass pane of lead glass. "The perspiration of the Test Subject is still increasing. Let us hope, that he will not dehydrate in there. Look at that! I didn't believe that was possible! Sir! The Test Subject is now rapidly increasing in stature, width and weight – actually beyond our former expectations. He clenches his fists. He stretch his arms and legs, as they actually extend more and more. The Procedure is presently working at a level of 30%. We have never before exposed a human being to this level. His weight has increased to 75 kilogrammes, no he is still increasing in weight: 78 kilogrammes – and all of it muscle mass. No trace of subcutaneous fat whatsoever. Look at that! We are creating a superhuman, but that was the idea of the Meta-Marine project, to begin with, wasn't it? Wait! He is growing even taller and broader! I can't believe it? What does the readings say? 179 centimetres and growing. Over 85 kilogrammes now. He is rising from the chair now. Stands up. He reach out his arms before him and flex his biceps. And pecs. His quads and hamstring force him to change his stance into something more comfortable. I can't believe the sight of that abdomen. A wall of muscle. And every muscle in perfect harmony and symmetry: A man built of boulders. Boulders of steel. That bull neck! Can't believe it is the same man anymore. 185 centimetres and 90 kilogrammes. He seem to roar something. I can't hear what. Signs of sexual arousal, but that's hardly surprising, taking his extreme testosterone levels in consideration... And all readings show, that it is perfectly safe. Perfectly safe! No signs of adverse effects. When the time comes for Experiment number 4 we will be able to take it to further levels, but probably better to abort Experiment 3 at this stage, in order to evaluate the effect, how tempting it would be to continue now. 190 centimetres and 110 kilogrammes! He has gained 55 kilogrammes in a matter of minutes. Those shoulders! And his trapezius! Unreal! Have to switch the chamber off..." Sounds of movement. Sounds of grunts and struggle. A metal vessel falling on a stone floor. A glass object breaking. "What are you doing X2? Let me go!" Boots on floors. More grunts. The sound of the power supply intensifying. The muffled moans and roars from inside the chamber louder now. "What are you doing X1? Leave the controls alone! Don't change the settings! The danger... What are you doing? Where are you taking me and Guard number 4? Maximum dose? You are insane! No! Not inside the chamber! NOT INSIDE THE..." The sound of a deep male voice moaning in pleasure. The hissing sound of a safety sluice. The sound of power supply louder now. Crackling power emissions. Five male voices moaning and grunting. The sound of panic in Dr. Dubois' voice. "NO! I'm inside! I can't get out! Why are you doing this? I and Guard number 4 are unprepared... The danger! You don't understand! What are you doing? You can't be..." Dr. Dubois' voice silenced and turning into moans. A wet, strange sound. Yelps of fear. Fear and pleasure. Heavy breathing. The heavy breathing of three men. Power bolts. The yelps of fear of two men. Breathing heavier now. Wet strange sound. Roars of release. "NO! What's happening to me? The Guard too? You are turning us into Meta-Marines like yourselves? But I'm not... Oh!" Hissing gas. Power bolts. Deepening voices: "Yes! THIS is what we were made for! The FULL effect!" And Dr. Dubois returning. Fear in his voice. Fear receding. Leaving space for something else. Confidence. Mindless revelry. "The Formula? Transmittable? From man to man? Inside me now? Can't believe! NO! I'm not supposed to... Oh! The programming! Can't resist... Fuck! No, oh... Sir! I'm inside the Chamber. X1 and X2 forced me and the Guard inside. I must leave you this report before it is too late... I'm affected by... OH FUCK! The scent of man. The Chamber... So full of it... Growing together... Becoming... this... together... Together with my brothers in arms. FUCK! Look at us! LOOK. AT. US. We are redefining what it mean to be a man. BUILT BY STEEL BOULDERS. So incredibly strong now. All of us. Look at you! And you! All of us. Together. Fighters. The Procedure... 100%. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT! The programming... Why resist it? Why. Resist. Something. So. Overwhelmingly. Uh! Uh, yes! Make me one of us! I'M A META-MARINE NOW! AND I WANT MORE! Yes! All of it! To protect and defend!" Power bolts crackling. A weird and sickly sound of growing meat. Hissing gas. Men moaning. Roaring. "Look at us! None of us under 2 metres! None of us under 200 kilogrammes! All this brawn! Beyond human limits! Masculine perfection! Those pecs! These traps! O, fuck, Bro, what's happening? Too good! Increasing more. Can't believe this muscular power. Yeah! Let me feel those biceps. OH FUCK! Yes, taste my shoulders, Bro. TASTE MY SHOULDERS! Yeah, your lats a incredible, Bro. Pure, indiluted, incredible masculine brawn. Must spread the Procedure. Spread the Procedure to all men. Spread the Gift. All become brothers. Brothers in arms. Sharing the Meta-Marine power." The sound of breaking glass. Metal bending. "Look at the size of us, Bro! Beyond human! Metal can't withstand our strength!" Alarms sounding. Gas hissing. Power bolts. The sound of movement. "Yeah! Look at that! Gas spreading in all vents. The radiation leaking into the entire base. Look at our Bros! They're growing too! All of us. Growing. MORE! Yes! The experiment is a success! MORE! GROW ALL OF US! NEED MORE BRAWN!" A signal. The voice message had abruptly ended. A beep. Welcome [Commander]. You have [seven] new voice messages.
  20. 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
  21. Hialmar

    The Test Subject

    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!!!!!!
  22. Guest

    The Test - Chapter Two: Chaos

    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.
  23. Guest

    The Test

    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.
  24. 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
  25. Hialmar

    Marketing

    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.