Popular Post Florida20 Posted January 4, 2019 Popular Post Share Posted January 4, 2019 CHAPTER 5 Lewis’s blouse was held loosely in his hand while he stared at me with uneasy blue eyes. Standing before me was a marble statue of a Greek god. His size small shirt was stretched across his body like plastic wrap, hiding nothing of the body beneath. The shirt didn’t even make it to his waist line; an inch-wide strip of pale skin separated pants from shirt. Solid bricks of raw muscle rose up his stomach beneath a pair of swollen pecs that danced with every nervous flick of Lewis’s arm. His lats flared so wide that his arms practically sat on top of them. Rounded shoulders stood with shadowed separation from arm and rap, large enough to pull his sleeves halfway up his upper arm. Swollen, vascular biceps hung heavy from those powerful shoulders, crisscrossed with veins. It was hard to speak. “How-“ I swallowed, hoping to come up with more but could only repeat it. “How?” Lewis, seeing my reaction, lost a bit of the nervous fear that held him there. “You, uh, were right sir. About working out, I mean. I just had to eat a lot.” “Bullshit!” I said loudly, with more confidence than I felt. “We both know it.” Lewis shrugged, every muscle in his body seemed to ripple in response. “Milk does a body good, sir.” I sat there a moment before speaking again. “How tall are you?” “Six feet even,” he said immediately. I noticed something about him that moment. “Weight?” This time he paused. “Two ten.” “You mean to tell me you’ve gained over sixty pounds in a month?” And then I added. “And four inches in height? Just eating and working out?” Lewis’s eyes danced but he just nodded. “Some people hit their growth spirts late.” I realized the fact his answers were absurd didn’t matter; I had to think of a different approach. I had to put myself in his (size 12) shoes. I let a smile break onto my face. “How does it feel?” I asked. Lewis looked confused. “Feel, sir?” “Yes, Lewis,” I said, letting the grin broaden. “How does it feel to have so much power all of a sudden?” “It –uh-,” he stammered but then I saw that spark in his eyes light into a full fire. “It feel fucking great.” The words practically exploded from his mouth. I remained silent, staring. Something I learned long ago was if you wanted people to talk, let them. The pause was short. “I mean, look at me,” he said and his arms rose, presenting himself before me. His lats flared even more and I heard a stitch pop somewhere in that sorry excuse for a shirt. “I’m a fucking stud.” His arms flexed, showing softball sized biceps with perfect peaks. I heard fabric tear. “Oh, god, you should feel this.” He grew breathless as he cupped one bicep with his other hand. He straightened his arm then flexed the cupped bicep again, only hard enough to make his arm shake. His bicep swelled. He straightened his arm and then flexed again. And again. His bicep swelled each time. A tear formed in his shirt at the peak of his bicep and another rip grew below the armpit where his lat swelled outward. “Fuck yeah,” he said and gave one more giant flex, letting the pathetic sleeve explode around his arm. He was completely self-absorbed now. I wasn’t even sure he remembered I was there. I knew it; he wanted nothing more than to talk; to let his secret out in spite of what his brain told him. I just needed to play my cards right. “I can curl seventy pound dumbbells with these babies,” he said as he reached over and squeezed the blood-gorged bicep again with his hand. The motion caused a seam to rip on the other side of his shirt behind his delts. It grew and revealed the mountainous folds of his back. He looked at the small tear and his eyes grew sharp. Then he raised his arms wide and flexed every upper body muscle in a powerful most-muscular pose, screaming “I’m a fucking GOD!” The shirt exploded off his frame. Deeply striated traps rose like mountains over his shoulders. Boulder like pecs swelled between his arms forming a deep irregular canyon between them. His neck swelled and reddened. Curling veins drove through the pulsing muscles up to his head. And there he was, naked from the waist up, panting and sweating with exhilaration. I forced myself to remain calm, although it was hard to ignore the raging erection I was hiding under the desk. In a steady voice, I went for another nail in the coffin. “Are you saying…this” I motioned to him with my hand “…is because of a sudden and miraculous growth spurt? This sounds like a medical emergency; perhaps I should call the medical team.” “NO!” Lewis boomed, and his fist crashed into my desk. A small crack appeared in the veneer circling his fist. Raw power was overriding the synapses in his brain. In this new-found euphoria, the secret was suddenly unimportant. “No, sir,” he said again, lowering his arms. “W--I…found something.” “What did you find, Lewis?” He paused but knew he had to finish. “I found the secret to Saddam’s Supermen.” “What?!” I asked frantically, my mind taking a moment to remember Dasa’s photo of the giant Iraqis. My gut leapt in its own euphoric crescendo the more I thought about it. I didn’t let him answer. Instead, I tried to keep a calm face as I spoke the two words that were sitting on my tongue since I brought Lewis into my office. “Show me.” CHAPTER 6 The sun was just setting as Lewis and I stepped out of the office. He zipped up his blouse one handed, the other hand lugged his gallon of water. A large Tupperware of chicken breasts, an accessory he constantly lugged around with him, was held under his arm. We both hoped no one would notice the fact he no longer wore an undershirt. His boots thunked heavily on steps leading down from the office; it was as if he wasn’t used to his newly added weight. We stepped into my truck and I started it. He tore into one of his chicken breasts as soon as his ass hit the seat, looking nervous. “Silo four,” he said as I pulled out of the space. “It in the silos?” I asked, surprised. He nodded as he chewed. “Tell me everything,” I ordered, making every attempt to seed my words with the fact that I was his superior officer and he was legally required to do what I told him to. Regret had already crept into his eyes but he nodded and spoke around continual bites of chicken. “I overheard you and Captain White talking about Saddam’s Supermen and I saw the file you had open. I, uh, spent the rest of the night looking for stuff about it on my computer, if only to see a couple more pictures.” He paused but I just continued driving, letting him speak. He did. “I didn’t find another pic of the supermen but I entered the Arabic script on the bottom of the original photo into our translator and it came up with something to the effect of ‘Project Jalut. Praise to god and his mercy. For the victory of Iraq’s holy army’ and some other fluff. Well, Jalut is apparently the name for Goliath, like David and Goliath, in the Koran so that seemed like a good start. I searched the share drive for the word Jalut and viola, there’s a whole file dedicated to it buried deep in the archives. There were photos of our servicemen raiding a lab and pulling documentation from the walls and pictures of what I could only assumed to be the serum they used to make the…uh…supermen. I don’t think the people there even knew what they had found. You couldn’t tell from the pictures what the place was for. “So,” he continued. He was on a roll now. “I figured there’s only one place they’d store this kind of stuff and I had the fucking keys to it.” I knew where he was going with this and I interrupted him against my better judgement. “So how on earth did you know where it was out of all those silos?” The task of finding something specific in those cavernous places was close to impossible. Lewis shook his head in a dismissing way. His confidence in dealing with me was growing. Soon I’d lose whatever advantage my rank gave me. “Fucking officers,” he said as he stared out the window. “Y’all don’t know shit about what you’re supposedly responsible for. Look, silos five through twelve are well inventoried. We know everything in them since they were filled after the Army got their shit together tracking what went in there. This superman stuff isn’t on those lists, so that leaves silo one through four. Silo one is mostly stuff from the first gulf war in the nineties, silo two and three are pretty much only big shit like tanks and trucks. Silo four is where they put all the little shit.” “Even so,” I added slightly defensively. I knew that silo. It was basically a bunch of haphazard piles stacked one after the other after the other. “That one silo would still take a year or more for one person to look through.” “They filled it chronologically,” he said and after a moment’s pause he sighed and continued as if speaking to a child. “The photos of the US raid on the lab were dated in April of 2003, only weeks into the invasion. So I figured what I was looking for had to be in one of the earlier piles. So I started there. Took me all night, but…” “You found it,” I concluded the obvious as we pulled into the gravel lot next to the silos’ guardhouse. Lewis unceremoniously threw down his Tupperware and water jug; I was shocked to find both empty. Holy fuck, I thought. There had to be a dozen chicken breasts in there when we got in the truck, if not more. By his face, Lewis regretted the nervous binge eating. He looked stuffed and uncomfortable. I badged us in, giving the guard on watch some lame excuse about inventory checks. He didn’t argue; it was my area after all. We found our way to silo four and walked in. Lewis closed the door behind us. “So where is it?” I asked, facing the seemingly endless waves of dusty junk. After a moment without response I turned and looked inquiringly at Lewis. The kid stood against the closed front door, his hand resting on the door frame as if for support. His breathing had grown deeper as if just finishing a sprint. “Ya know sir,” he said between heavy breaths. “I don’t think I have to tell you anything.” There was a menacing tone in his voice that made my stomach drop. Shit, I thought. There goes whatever edge my rank gave me. My mind rushed to find a way to regain my advantage but those thoughts were shattered as Lewis hunched over in what appeared to be great pain. “Are you okay?” I asked, generally concerned. “Oh, I’m more than okay,” he said, sweat beading on his reddened forehead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. It. Feels. So. Fucking. Gooooooood.” He stood up and his arms spread wide as if stretching. The cuffed sleeves of his uniform pulled up his wrist, exposing the base of his forearm. I could see the dents of his chest through the canvas blouse as the fabric pulled tight across it. “Augh,” he moaned, his breaths getting deeper. “Too. Tight.” He reached up, unzipped, and discarded his blouse in less than a second. I was again face to face with that chiseled and bulging body. His body stretched with new freedom and he tested it, flexing everything he could: arms back, chest, abs, shoulders. Every muscle responded by pumping ever larger and harder. He whispered to himself, eyes half shut in ecstasy. “Feels so good. Feels so good. Fuck. Shit.” He wasn’t done. He tore off his boots without unlacing them, which I didn’t know was possible, and threw the tattered remnants across the room. Moments later, he had his pants off. Quads bulged like mushroom tops over his kneecaps and cascaded in muscular crests and valleys all the way up to his crotch. Striated calves, like giant diamonds, bulged and writhed as his giant feet adjusted themselves on the ground. His briefs were plastered over cut and swollen glutes and couldn’t cover a fully erect cock that snaked across his front. It throbbed beneath the straining cotton. “Fuck me,” he whispered to himself as he tore off the briefs with a snap of his wrist, letting his ten-inch dick free to throb at attention before him. His body was covered in pulsing veins that seemed to feed his gorged muscles. Granite-blocked abs covering a stomach gorged with food, started to tighten and fall as if the contents of his guts were being drained away. His body swelled in response and his muscles flexed and relaxed in sudden twitches as he groaned and started rubbing his cock. Faster and faster he rubbed with his oversized hands, the muscles in his arm and back writhing as he did. Then every muscle in his body seemed to flex all at once, making him look like a morphed human being. His dick erupted, spewing its contents ten feet away in heavy spurts. His moan was almost a roar and it ended in exhausted pants as he leaned back against the doorway, using both his hand and forehead as support. Lost in his own world, his hand still squeezing his spent dick, he stood there, panting. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten all that chicken at once,” I heard him whisper to himself. I don’t know if he was bigger but his body had suddenly gained an elevated form of definition. My guess is the three pounds of chicken and water he’d just consumed had somehow immediately digested and distributed itself in raw muscle across his body. It was a full minute before he noticed me again. There was not a shred of embarrassment or shame in his eyes as they locked with mine. His lips curled in a sinister smile and he stepped up to me, naked as the day he was born. “I think we’re done here, sir. Maybe you should take me back to my dorm.” I found myself sizing him up. He looked bigger than the 210 pounds he claimed but wasn’t a monster by any stretch of the imagination…but he was all muscle. He could have added 20 pounds of fat and still looked good enough to grace the cover of a fitness magazine. He was close enough now for me to feel the heat radiating from his sweating body. I looked at him for a moment, knowing there was a RIGHT thing to do but also knowing that conflicted with what I WANTED to do. The RIGHT thing to do was grab my walkie-talkie, call for base security to detain this hormonal airman while I reported to my superiors that he’d come across some strange chemical somewhere in this shed. They could find and property dispose of it. All would be well. But looking at the body I had always dreamed of having, I knew I didn’t want to do that. I was at a cross-roads… I raised the walkie-talkie and saw Lewis’ face grow dark and show hints of despair. His game was up. Now he feels it, I thought. Now he knows. I lowered the walkie-talkie, took a deep breath, then reached down and ripped the Velcro rank insignia off my uniform. I then took off my hat, the only other part of my uniform that had a rank on it. I let both symbols fall to the floor. He knew what that meant: we were no longer talking officer to enlisted, we were now talking man-to-man. “You need me,” I said to him. He looked confused. “That uniform isn’t going to contain you much longer and you need ME to approve new ones. You need ME to have access to this place. You need ME to help keep this little experiment of yours under wraps for as long as possible.” I locked eyes with his. “I’m not the enemy unless you want me to be, Lewis. And I see no reason for that.” I paused. “I’m not here to stop you.” Lewis’s demeanor changed on that last line and I let go of a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. He took two steps toward me and held out his hand. “Partners?” he asked, almost desperately. I grabbed his hand immediately, feeling it engulf mine. “Partners,” I replied. He made to pull away, but I held on. Something was…without thinking, I took my other hand and laid it on his forearm. It was hard as a rock. My hands grew a mind of their own. I let go of his hand and grabbed his unflexed arm that hung from those boulder-like shoulders. Even unflexed, they were iron rapped in skin. That is no exaggeration; his body was fucking granite. I pushed hard into his chest with my hand; it didn’t even dent. I may as well have pushed against a wall. Lewis closed his eyes and I saw his heavy dick jump. I pulled my hand away, not wanting the distraction of another self-lust scene. “How heavy are you really?” I asked. Lewis looked at me and I could see unspoken words bouncing in his eyes. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t really know. The scale at the gym maxes out at three hundred pounds.” It was unbelievable on the surface. Lewis was built like a god but still hovered around six feet and was still able to hide behind a normal sized uniform. He LOOKED no more than 220 or 230 at most, not over three hundred. But I only nodded. Insane, yes, but it made sense. He was just too dense. “So show me,” I ordered. Lewis’s face grew dark and his body suddenly seemed to loom over me. It was an effort not to take a step back. Unspoken as it was, the message was clear. I was the junior partner in this operation. “Please,” I added. We made our way to the back of silo four quickly enough and we found ourselves standing before one of the dozens of junk piles that filled the place. They loomed twelve feet high or more, stacked junk that could topple over at any time. This one looked no different than the others except it had obviously been picked through (as were a couple of the neighboring piles). “I -uh- had to bring by friends along to help,” Lewis admitted as I looked at the piles. “Some things were just too heavy for me to move alone.” I thought of the buff trio I saw Lewis sitting with before and remembered how I assumed they were new friends, replacing the skinny runts he’d previously hung with. “You gave them this…stuff…too?” I asked gravely. “I had to,” he said with no trace of guilt. “We were partners, too.” The put an emphasis on those last words. “Ok,” I said finally. I would worry about them later. Lewis nodded then walked, naked as the day he was born, across the littered floor to one of the picked-through piles. He reached over and picked up a full sized copy machine. His back muscles flared and grew impossibly thick, a deep and shadowed canyon ran from just above his glutes to the base of his neck. Thick lats and traps flared on either side. Setting the copier aside, he moved a few other objects in search of something. I guess he doesn’t need his friends’ help anymore, I thought as he moved more debris aside. He stopped suddenly, crouched down, and began manipulating something. I looked over his shoulder and saw he’d revealed a large iron safe. He was entering the combination. “How do you know how to open it?” I asked. “The combo was taped to the back, would you believe it?” Lewis chuckled as he worked. I stepped gingerly around the junk and looked on the back wall of the safe, finding nothing but smooth iron. Whatever had been there was now removed. Lewis had stopped working and was now staring at me under a suspicious brow. Again, after a hesitation, he sighed. “Sixteen, seven, seventy-nine,” he said finally. There was a click and the door opened. Behind it were six rows of heavy metal shelves. “We thought about taking this stuff back to the dorms,” Lewis said as he pulled out the second drawer, revealing twelve canisters lined in a row. “But we figured this stuff was safest here.” I looked at the canisters and quickly noticed they were in four groups of three, each group consisting of a green, a white, and a red canister. Arabic script was written on each. “I don’t know what it says,” Lewis said after I asked. “But…” He removed one of the green canisters. “I DO know the big symbol on the bottom there is the Arabic number ONE.” I looked at the symbol and recognized it as well, having picked up a bare minimum of the written language since I’d arrived. “I suppose…” Lewis cut me off with a nod. “The white one has a TWO on it and the red one a THREE.” “So you took this one,” I confirmed, toying with the green canister I had in my hand. Upon inspection, I realized the canister was actually a delivery system, much like an EpiPen. I can do it right now! I thought with a barbaric euphoria. I looked hungrily at the innocent looking canister. Lewis had pulled out the top drawer, showing only empty spaces where four green canisters would have been found. The white and red ones, I saw, were untouched. My eyes shot to a preoccupied Lewis, the muscles in his body flexing and curling over each other as he searched the safe. I looked back at the green one in my hand. “We’re not sure what the—” Lewis started as he turned to me then his eyes grew wide as he saw me raise the canister high above my head. “WAIT!” he ordered. But it was too late. I drove the device down hard and slammed it against my thigh. I felt a sharp prick as the needle penetrated my canvas pants and drove deep into the meat of my quads. There was an immediate hiss accompanied by a sharp burning sensation as the liquid in the canister emptied itself into my body. 40 1 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted January 4, 2019 Share Posted January 4, 2019 So Leiws shared what he found his others but it wasnt just one thereare otehr stuffin tehre that they dont know what they will do. Im sure they will find out soon 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
hardmuscl4life Posted January 4, 2019 Share Posted January 4, 2019 Excellent. Really enjoying your imagination. Please continue... soon. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
superkappa Posted January 4, 2019 Share Posted January 4, 2019 I love your writing style. Your previous works are definitely among my favourites of all time, so I can't wait to see where this story goes. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Posted January 4, 2019 Share Posted January 4, 2019 This is my favourite ongoing story on this site right now. I'm guessing the three types of injection are three different strengths. So the green one turns you into a huge shredded muscle guy, but still within the bounds of humanity. And the '3' turns you into one of those 8ft monsters. I'm still excited to see shit go down with Whitaker. Lewis needs some chances to show off his strength. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
neverbigenoughmuscle Posted January 4, 2019 Share Posted January 4, 2019 Amazing and well written! Can’t wait for the next few chapters!!! I hope Lewis gets jealous and takes it to the extreme with more growth!!! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NerdJock Posted January 5, 2019 Share Posted January 5, 2019 11 hours ago, Speech500 said: This is my favourite ongoing story on this site right now. I'm guessing the three types of injection are three different strengths. So the green one turns you into a huge shredded muscle guy, but still within the bounds of humanity. And the '3' turns you into one of those 8ft monsters. I'm still excited to see shit go down with Whitaker. Lewis needs some chances to show off his strength. My thoughts exactly! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Musclenyc Posted January 5, 2019 Share Posted January 5, 2019 This is so hot! Thanks! 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hialmar Posted January 5, 2019 Share Posted January 5, 2019 (edited) I like this sub-genre a lot, and this story is a particularly exciting take on the theme. Excellent! And a suggestion to you, @Florida20 : Why don't you put links in your story threads, in order to make it easier to find and skip between the threads that contain different chapters? I mean a link to a latter thread in the former threads, and a link to the former threads in the latter threads. Edited January 5, 2019 by Hialmar suggestion about links 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
debate1 Posted January 6, 2019 Share Posted January 6, 2019 Can't wait for more. Love the personality change and hope we get the other three guys change in personality and cockiness shown! Get them in a weight room! 1 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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