Super Soldier (Chapter 2-4)

[Florida20]

CHAPTER 2

The next evening, after dinner with Dasa and a couple other friends, I put on my workout gear and began the five-minute walk to the gym. The sun had gone down an hour before and, while the air WAS cooler, it was still humid enough to immediately cover me in sweat. I welcomed the conditioned rush of air when I walked through the gym doors.

The base gym was impressive. It had to be. It was, after all, the effective place of worship for half the servicemen and -women who called this place home. Sprawling over a hundred thousand square feet, it was still crowded.

I hunkered down on a bench and warmed up with a few presses with just the bar. Along the way I saw myself in the mirror. My shirt had no sleeves and I was happy to see the soft bulges of my shoulders and arms stand in relief under the harsh overhead lights. I had decent traps and my pecs cast a nice shadow on the fabric beneath it, hinting at a flat stomach. My legs were my pride and joy. They’d always been the most developed part of my body and they still were. Nice tear drops hung below the hem of my shorts and my calves stood out even while sitting down. It was slightly depressing to think that while I had the lower body of a 200-pound gym rat, mathematically that meant I had the upper body of a 170-pound gym rat.

That will be change, I thought to myself as I added some weight to the bar. After a few sets I spied Dasa talking to a giant of a man I’d seen here a few times before. She caught my eye and I gave her a wry smirk. I had to admit she had good taste. The guy was perhaps 6’3 and 240 pounds of rippled muscle. He filled his sleeveless shirt completely; I could see the bricks of his abs pressing through it. Smooth pecs bulged above the low hanging color of his shirt and sat below traps that rolled halfway up his neck. He wore the comically short military issue PT shorts that barely made it below mid-thigh. Mountainous quads blossomed from below the hem, making the legs I’d just been proud of feel like bean poles. They shook every time the guy shifted his weight, muscles gnarling over each other

It took a moment to notice Dasa was trying to wave me over. I got up and did so, face slightly reddened at the thought they’d caught me staring.

“Alex,” Dasa said when I got within earshot. “This is Boulder Hodges. He’s a navy guy, just like you!”

I smiled, genuinely happy to meet someone from the navy I’d be a part of had they not sent me here as a sacrificial lamb. “Nice to meet you…Boulder?”

 “Call sign,” Bill said with a grin, referring to the nicknames naval pilots loved to give each other. “Can’t imagine where it came from,” he said sarcastically as he raised his arms and flexed nineteen inch arms. Lats flared under them. I had the sudden urge to just grab and squeeze them just to find out what they felt like.

 “He was the linebacker at the Naval Academy,” Dasa said and added wryly: “But he lost twice against Air Force.” The latter was Dasa’s alma mater.

“And won twice,” Bill said, looking down at Dasa with a broad smile. She gave his arm a pinch that barely dented it. I was beginning to feel like the third wheel. As much as this Bill thought he was running the show here, he was the prey. Dasa had him under her spell. It was just then I spied someone across the gym that had no business being here.

That piece of shit, I thought menacingly.

 “It was nice meeting you…Boulder,” I said awkwardly, feeling my hand get swallowed in his as I shook it. “Excuse me, please,” I said to both of them and walked towards my new target.

“Whitaker,” I said gently but firmly to a broad, sweaty, and very shirtless back facing me.

Staff Sergeant Whitaker’s shoulders jumped at hearing his name and recognizing who said it. He turned around and presented me with his body in all its shirtless glory. God, he used his 215 pounds well. It must be chest day; his pecs were gorged and swollen and red. Needless to say, wearing a shirt was one of the more obvious gym rules but Whitaker had a record of not caring about the rules and gyms had a record for not enforcing them.

That said, it was a distraction I really didn’t need right now. I think I could bury my finger to the knuckle between those pecs.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Whitaker said, his hands going up as if to surrender. The simple act making those amazing arms swell.

I calmly raised my hand in a quieting gesture and looked at the two other muscle heads Whitaker was with, who both actually wore shirts (if the ones that were little more than strings with a napkin on the front). “Please excuse us a minute.” I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends and tried to make this conversation appear every bit a simple work discussion.

I felt bold for some reason and grabbed the back of his arm to escort him from the weight room. His skin slid across the bolder hard muscle of his triceps, which were pumped from his evening workout.

“You’re supposed to be on watch,” I said in a sharp whisper once we were in the hall. I could feel the heat radiating from his musky body.

 “Lewis took it,” Whitaker said.

I felt genuine rage build up inside of me and my awe of Whitaker’s body for once took a back seat. “He what?!” This fucker bullied Lewis to take the watch he was supposed to take as punishment?

Whitaker’s eyes showed a hint of fear. “No, it’s not like that,” he said, reading my thoughts. “I went and stood last night’s watch and everything. But he comes strolling up when I was taking relieving Rogers tonight and says everything’s cool. Then he asks to take the watch. I told him no, sir, I really did. But he kept saying it was ok.”

I didn’t believe him and it must have showed. “Honest, lieutenant, he really did.”

I stared at the asshole Adonis for a few moments before stepping back. “I’m going to pay him a visit. If I get one whiff that he was pressured into this, I’m sending you home.”

I may have overplayed my hand because Whitaker’s eyes lost their fear. He loved this place. The easy access to food, gyms, and women made this a wonderland to him. “Fine, sir, ask him.” He turned to rejoin his friends, leaving me to stare at his wide and bulging back. I could see the bumps of his glutes peaking over the top of his shorts where it joined the muscular ridges of his lower back. A shirt dangled from there, held between the elastic waistband and his body. I pulled it free, reached around, and pushed it against his bare chest. It was like pressing against the side of a refrigerator. “Put your shirt on,” I said. “You don’t always have to be the exception.”

Whitaker took the shirt and gave me a wicked smile. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” He pulled the shirt over his body and sauntered back to his buddies.

 

CHAPTER 3

The silos, as we called them, were actually warehouses. Twelve of them to be exact. They sat on a forgotten corner of the base surrounded by a single tall fence topped with barbed wire. This was my empire of rust. Although I conducted sporadic inventories of the newly acquired stuff, half of these building housed equipment from well before the military was organized enough to track each piece. The first few years of the war had been a chaotic time. My biggest fear was leadership demanding I do a full inventory of everything. I couldn’t imagine how long that would take. These places rivaled the scale and density of the giant cavernous warehouse in Indiana Jones. Each building was half the size of a football field.

 But it was my job to manage the place and my staff of six took turns guarding it around the clock in twelve hour shifts. I wheeled up in my military issued Silverado and looked inside the guardhouse for Airman Lewis, buy found the guardhouse empty.

 Probably patrolling the interior, I thought as I walked into the shgack and grabbed the spare hand radio. “Airman Lewis, this is Lieutenant Kane. Do you copy?”

 There was a static pause but Lewis’s voice eventually made it over the receiver. “Sir, I copy.” He sounded breathless.

“Mark location,” I said in reply.

“Uh…silo four.”

 “Copy, I’ll meet you there.”

I badged myself into the gate and walked over to silo four. He was at the building’s front door when I arrived. “Sir?” he asked a little too innocently. Sure enough, he was out of breath and trying to hide it, which only made the gasps more obvious.

 “What’s going on?” I asked.

 “Oh,” he said, diverting his eyes from mine. “I’m just cleaning up a corner where some stuff fell over.”

 I looked at him, knowing he was up to something. There wasn’t much to do, though. The outside of the silos was littered with cameras so I’d know if he took anything. Also, any keys, ammo, activation switches, or anything else that could actually turn this rusty shit into a weapon was in a safe only I knew the combination for. I decided to let it slide.

 “So why isn’t Whitaker here?” I asked gravely.

 Lewis actually brightened. “Because I felt bad he had to take two watches for something as innocent as calling me skinny.”

 “That’s not the only thing he’s standing the watch for,” I said, reminded of the comments he made of me and Dasa. “Besides, it’s not your call whether he’s punished or not.”

 Lewis dropped his eyes. Although he was hiding something, my senses told me he actually DID want to stand the watch. I let it go, knowing that it was probably a mistake. It had been a long week and I was tired. So I just looked Lewis and nodded. “Fine. Take the watch.” Then I turned and left for my dorm room.

  

CHAPTER 4

 

Monday came after an otherwise inconsequential weekend. Whitaker was still a problem but now I had my Master Sergeant back and could let him handle the asshole. Lewis stood the watch as promised and didn’t have to show up until Tuesday, allowing him to adjust his sleep pattern back to normal. He seemed in remarkably good cheer when he strolled in. Everything was back to normal.

 During my second month in Kuwait, I gained another three pounds without putting on any noticeable fat. I had to remind myself this was a marathon, not a race. I wasn’t new to working out so understood progress would be a slow grind. Three pounds a month was actually pretty good.

I saw Lewis at the gym a couple days after that first weekend, skinny as a rail and as awkward with the weights as a one legged dancer. He was surprisingly ripped for such a slender guy. I gave him a few pointers and found he was a quick learner. By the end of the session he had the basics down and I was shocked to see a sizeable pump on him. He started complaining about hunger a mere thirty minutes into the workout so I cut mine short and joined him at the Dining Facility. The boy put me to shame when it came to eating: I ate a lot but this kid was downright offensive with how much he shoved into his mouth. Stuffed beyond reason I got up and left him to his forth helping, giving him a quick pat on the back before heading out.

 “Nice work,” I said as I left.

 “Thanks,” he said shyly around a mouthful of eggs.

 I saw him again a couple days later, this time with a group of three friends of similar age from other commands. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but he’d managed to find friends smaller than him. Actually, Lewis may have put on a few pounds himself. Although still skinny his frame had some definite shape to it. Well, he had two things going for him: he was nineteen and he was just starting. Initial gains would be rapid. He noticed me notice him and his face strangely reddened. I gave him a thumbs up but let him be. Then I stopped seeing him at the gym altogether.

After a couple weeks, I found him at lunch wolfing down his food as usual. “You quit the gym?” I asked as I walked by. I didn’t want to ask at the office as I didn’t want to give Whitaker any additional cannon fodder.

Lewis shook his head, the muscles in his jaw flaring under the skin of his cheek as he chewed. “I’ve been going late at night. Gym’s pretty empty then,” he said between bites. The muscles in his narrow neck flared as he swallowed.

 Fuck, I thought to myself. Where did that vascularity come from? I looked at the back of his hands, the only other skin visible outside the confines of his baggy uniform. Veins laced across the back of his hands like spider webs. Curious.

 He reached down, seemingly not noticing he was doing so, and massaged the top of his boot.

 “Injure your foot?” I asked.

 He shook his head again. “I think my boots are too small,” he offered.

 I barked a laugh. “You’ve been in theater for six weeks and have been suffering small boots this whole time?”

 His face reddened further but he gave a slight nod. “Well what size are they?” I asked.

 “Nine and a half,” he said meekly.

 “Okay,” I said. “I’ll have Sergeant Meyer order you some tens.” I started to walk past him with my tray off food.

 “Can you make it elevens?” he asked my back.

 I turned to him, doubtful he’d been sporting boots a size and a half too small this whole time. “You can get whatever size you want as long as they fit. How about you work with Meyer yourself. Have him measure your feet. I’ll tell him he’s got authority to buy you a pair.”

 Lewis nodded gratefully.

“You start your midwatch shifts tonight right?” I asked. Lewis responded with another food-filled nod. “Ok, well I guess I won’t see you this week. Take care of those boots but otherwise, I’ll see you next Monday.”

 Lewis nodded again and I left. The team rotated their watches on a weekly basis to minimize messing with their sleep cycles too often. As common sense dictated, standing a twelve hour watch over night meant you didn’t have to work days in the office.

 A few days later I ran by the Tech Sergeant Meyer in the hallway. “You get Lewis his shoes?” I asked as I walked by.

 “Yes sir,” he replied.

 “Thanks for taking care of the measurement,” I continued. “He was asking for size elevens. Can you believe it?”

Meyer shrugged. “No I can’t, sir.”

I left it at that and kept walking by the man but he said something as my shoulder passed his.

“I had to get him twelves.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Twelves?” I asked, incredulous.

Meyer just nodded. “Boy’s got big feet,” he said simply.

I felt my brows furrow. “You mean to tell me that poor boy went through more than a month here with boots that were over two sizes too small?”

Meyer shrugged again as if there was nothing unusual about it. “Guess so.”

I gave a distracted “thanks again” and continued on with my day. Something tickled the back of my mind; too many things just weren’t adding up.

The next Monday, I walked in the office to find Lewis already sitting at his computer. The prior week had been busy and I’d since pushed any curiosity of Lewis’s condition to the back of my mind. I grunted a good morning as I sifted through the paperwork that gathered up during the weekend. Lewis offered a “good morning” back without looking up from his computer. His voice sounded funny, as if he had a cold.

 We were all busy and generally kept to ourselves those next few days. It wasn’t until late in the week the oddness surrounding Lewis roared back to the front of my mind. He stood behind the Whitaker next to the copy machine, waiting for his turn to scan some documents. I looked up just as Whitaker turned and without looking ran smack into Lewis, whose head was down reading. I grimaced, expecting poor Lewis to go sprawling backwards, flinging fifty sheets of paper across the room in the process.

But that didn’t happen. If anything, Whitaker was the one who bounced back; Lewis merely looked up with his mouth open in surprise. Suddenly things that I’d missed the whole week became clear in unison. The most obvious thing was that Lewis was TALLER than Whitaker by a good inch. I could have sworn he was a good four inches shorter. Whitaker seemed to notice this as well; his face was a mask of confusion covering a boiling fury. My first sergeant had put the fear of god in him last week so he kept his mouth shut. But I could see the gears turning.

Lewis actually gulped and it was then I noticed how muscular his neck was. It didn’t match Whitaker’s, who’s neck was wider than his head, but I could see individual muscles flex and veins writhe as Lewis swallowed.

 No one else in the office seemed to notice save the three of us. Every time I looked up at Whitaker, he was staring at Lewis, studying him. Lewis didn’t say another word and was still sitting hunched over his computer when I left that evening. He was munching on one of the chicken breasts he had brought from lunch.

The next day, the AC went out again, making the office into a furnace within the hour. I gave everyone permission to deblouse again. Everyone did immediately, sweat already staining their undershirts; all except for Lewis who remained fully dressed over his computer. He must have been miserable. I dropped any attempt at stealthy glances and finally really looked at the young airman. The camouflage uniform made it nearly impossible to know the shape of the person wearing it but…wait a minute. I looked closely at the area under his armpit and saw that the fabric that normally hung loose on people was actually pulled tight.

 Holy shit…this kid had lats. Big ones. I glanced over to Whitaker for a comparison. Already debloused, his lats pressed firmly against the thin cotton undershirt, the individual bulges of muscle rippling down his side. Looking back and forth, Lewis was narrower but had the same v-shape. I felt myself grow hard at the thought of what Lewis hid beneath his blouse and made it my mission to find out.

But he didn’t make it easy.

I caught him that night at dinner, where I sat with my usual retinue, Dasa among them. Most people changed into civilian clothes for the evening meal. It’s what made Lewis so easy to spot as he was one of the few still in his uniform. He sat with three others, each dressed in gym clothes. Apparently, he’d ditched the wimp brigade I last saw him with; the three surrounding him now each looked like fitness models. Their shirts were almost comically tight across narrowly muscular upper bodies. I put each of them at about the same height and weight as me but with practically zero bodyfat, making the difference between their bodies and mine leagues apart.

I saw Lewis glance over at me and I waved. He waved back with an awkward smile and quickly picked up three Styrofoam boxes sitting next to him. Those were filled with what I only guessed were Dinner numbers two, three, and four. He stood and said something to his friends, then left.

The fucker was avoiding me.

Unfortunate for him, I was his boss. The next day I counted down the hours to closing time, sneaking glances at Lewis the whole time. Impossibly, he was even bigger today. You didn’t even have to try hard to see his back was pressing firmly across the whole of his uniform. Even his upper arms seemed to modestly fill the void of the uniforms incredibly baggy sleeve. His traps, once flat now rose with an obvious crest to his neck. The rest of the office was finally taking notice something was up too. Corporal Janelle Peterson, one of my two Army personnel, was the first to speak up.

 “Look at that neck,” she bellowed. “You been working out, Lewis?”

 “A little,” Lewis said, not taking his eyes from his computer. His voice had grown noticeably deeper the last couple weeks.

 “Pssht, a little?” She reached over and grabbed the sleeve of his uniform, giving it a quick squeeze before he had a chance to shake him of. “Take it easy, Lewis,” she said as she pulled her hand back. She gave the other female in the room, Staff Sergeant Miller, a wide-eyed stare and mouthed “wow” to her. She grabbed her own bicep and made a motion of it swelling as if to say “his biceps are huge.” Now both females looked at his back with hungry eyes.

Whitaker had known something was up the whole time but said nothing. I could see anger in his face at not being the center of the ladies’ lust. I was pretty sure he had slept with both.

 I dismissed the team fifteen minutes early but called Lewis into my office as he was trying to leave. After making sure the others left, I turned to the airman standing before me. He wrung his surprisingly large hands nervously.

 “Close the door,” I said, still seated behind my desk. I’d been thinking about this moment all day but found myself just running on unplanned instinct. I decided to cut to the chase. “Take off your blouse.”

 Lewis’s face reddened and his jaw worked. It was more squared than it was a month ago. “Sir?” he stammered.

 “You heard me, Lewis,” knowing I was treading on some thin ice here. I was at risk of sexual assault here if I pushed too hard but I was desperate. “Please.”

Extremely reluctantly, Lewis tore at the Velcro revealing the zipper of his blouse. He zipped it down slowly at first but then with increasing speed. Once undone, he practically ripped the garment off his body, revealing the undershirted body beneath.

 I nearly fainted.

[debate1]

Have a feeling those three are the same skinny guys? Cant wait for more!

[Ozymandias]

Love this so far - let’s see what Lewis has become

[Guest]

This is so good. Lewis has clearly found whatever the Iraqis were using to get huge. I wonder if he’ll get in trouble for using PEDs - the US military takes a hard line approach to them. I can’t wait for Whitaker’s anger to boil over and for Lewis to put him in his place.

[Ro20316]

Well Lewis found what many couldnt in all those years.

This gonna be fun for him but Whitaker is onto him and knows something is up will these three man become as big as the guys in the pcture. Im sure Whitaker is hiding some sexual feelings for muscles

[studio77]

Absolutely amazing story so far. Can’t wait to see how big and strong Lewis will get. 

Would be great to find out exactly how he is doing it. 

[debate1]

Cant wait for more!

[Kymuscleboy]

Awesome, awesome, awesome! I've been hoping you would return to writing, and it looks like I (and the rest of the site) got a great Christmas present. So far, this story is definitely not disappointing. I love the premise and setting. They are both original takes on the muscle growth genre. It will be interesting to learn how Lewis tracked down the Iraqi "Superman" formula and exactly what it is. Hopefully, he will put Whitaker in his place before Whitaker can find it for himself. Maybe the Commanding Officer can even get a little growth in to be as big or bigger than the other Navy guy! So many possibilities!

On 12/28/2018 at 10:08 PM, debate1 said:

Have a feeling those three are the same skinny guys? Cant wait for more!

That's also what I thought. After all, Lewis needs somebody to work out with that can keep up with him. It stands to reason he would help out his fellow geeks, even if they don't realize it. 

[debate1]

Keep coming back to this. So interesting!

[MrG2U]

Just as I was about to 'stir' and that feeling launch, I find myself suspended, eyes bulging at my screen hunting for the thrilling words to .....

This is getting very interesting and very enjoyable. Thank you.