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Hialmar

Preface

My usual sort of stuff. Nothing particularly original, but I want to share it with those of you who share my particular taste.

 

Hypermarines

He was sitting with the others in the waiting-room, if that was the proper word for it. Cubbyhole would have been more suitable. One bench each against two of the walls, a closed entrance and a closed exit in the other two walls, that's all, so he and the other recruits were sitting fairly close to each other, like they did during transport: the knees of four of them not far from the knees of the other four.

The olive-green t-shirt hung in a rather loose-fitting way on him – on most of them, actually. The recruiter had tried to say something about the desirability of a process enhancing Ectos, thus increasing the usefulness of The Procedure, but he hadn't listened particularly attentively. The possibility – but not a guarantee, oh no, not a guarantee: that had been emphasized several times, both from mouth to ear and by the clauses, full of dread-instilling legal English, in the Form they had had to sign. ... -The possibility of physical improvement beyond the limits, he had faced in the gym, attracted him to The Project, the enticing allure causing at least 50% of the information to be lost on him. 

He began to feel warm in his olive-green loose-fitting t-shirt, and the fabric was slightly moist of his sweat. The serums and compounds ... Circulating inside him now. Too late, if he had changed his mind, but he hadn't. The serums and chemical compounds, the weeks building up for today's Procedure, the IVs and the injections – the sum effect of them all must be behind this heat, his beading sweat inside the t-shirt. Williams and West sat on each side of him. Williams' t-shirt wasn't loose-fitting: Williams' stout, short, wide and overweight shape was the reason why the recruiters had picked him: The Agency was eager to know the effect of The Procedure on Endos, too. West's t-shirt wasn't loose-fitting either: The sight of West's chestnut-coloured beefy pecs and chiseled abs in the common shower had caused some of the other recruits to feel inadequate and uncomfortable, badly disguised under friendly banter. In the beginning, he had worried about the risk of too much competitiveness among his fellow recruits, but they had early on agreed, that they had to cooperate in order to make the best out of this opportunity. West was allright. So was Williams, who'd got the nickname Tank from the other recruits. He felt fond of Williams and West and the five others: Brothers in arms. Sharing all these experiences with each other. Reliable lads in a situation. Good men. Invisible ties binding them together, and today, and after today, the shared experience of ... of what would happen next. Happen soon.

He touched the unfamiliar and slightly unsettling presence of the little metallic shunt valve and the electronic port, both of them in the nape of his neck. Unfamiliar. Unsettling. Why would they need those two? Best not bother. They were needed for The Procedure.

The cubbyhole full of the scent of moth-repellant rising from their wide camo-trousers. The cubbyhole full of the scent of the scent of shoe polish ... their glossy army boots ... a few sizes too large army boots, for some reason. The cubbyhole full of the scent of male sweat. Sweat after workouts. Worried sweat. Expectant sweat. Excited sweat. Some scent of pre-cum, too. Who would think about girls now, in a situation like this? Perhaps not thoughts about girls. Perhaps the effect of the serum. The compounds. Inside them. Already causing them to change. Already begun. Already increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones he hadn't heard about before, and didn't bother to remember. Increasing. He could feel his dick awake. Despite some lingering fear and second thoughts, the expectation on The Procedure – if it was as good as the recruiters had said – spread arousal in his body. Not the same body as three weeks ago. Three weeks of bootcamp had sky-rocketed his stamina. He wasn't probably much beefier now, strictly speaking, than three weeks ago, but his strength had improved surprisingly fast, his remaining fat had burned away, and his stamina ... He shuddered in delight. He hadn't undergone The Procedure, yet, but his stamina was already beyond his old imagination. Moth-repellants. Shoe polish. Dogtags. Wide camo-trousers. Necks of his army boots snugly pressed around his ankles. Sweat. Brothers in arms. Pre-cum. Because they were primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... Williams and West so close to him on each side. Brothers. Together ...

The exit door into the Test Chamber opened by someone in a hazmat suit, waving to them, inviting them into the Test Chamber. He hadn't seen it before. Only heard about it at the briefing. They were deep under the surface. Granite rock walls. Floor coated in concrete. There were contrapments: Metal structures, cables insulated in rubber, hoses in different shapes and materials.

The men in the hazmat suits began to place every recruit in his respective station. He laid down on a metal bench coated with black rubber and a  removable paper blanket. There was a foot-plate at the foot end of the bench, and one of the hazmat guys moved the bench, so that he half-stood, half-rested on the bench at an angle of about 45°. They locked sockets around his hands, and sturdy cables ran from his two sockets to some equipment in the granite wall, together with cables leading to the other recruits' sockets. He had noticed a rectangular hole in his bench where his head was supposed to rest, and he could now feel the hazmat guys connect something to his electronic port and his shunt valve. Unfamiliar. Unsettling. Connected to the equipment in four ways now. Trapped. Second-thoughts? Second-thoughts. Hazmat guys opening two or three buttons of his fly, without opening the upper button or his belt. Pulling his dick out. A hose surrounding his dick. Connected to the equipment in five ways now. Trapped. Fluttering in his stomach. Too late for regret now. Too deep into The Project. The serum. Inside him. The compounds. Inside him. Already causing him to change. Already begun. Already increasing his amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because he was primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... 

The light faded slightly. The hazmat guys had already left. Lead-coated armoured doors sunk hydraulically over the entrance of the recruits and the exit of the guys in hazmat suits. They were abandoned now. Isolated from the rest of the world. Probably observed – nay, certainly observed – from somewhere else by observers, for whom they were not individuals, just anonymous test subjects, expendable specimens for the sake of science or defence. He was connected to The Machine now, they all were. Each of them were connected in the same way – one silvery hose, one black rubbery hose, two thick cables and a thin wire all leading to each test subject, each specimen, each recruit. There was nothing they could do now, just wait for The Procedure. Trapped. Fluttering in his stomach. Too late for regret now. Too deep into The Project. The serum. Inside them. The compounds. Inside them. Already causing them  to change. Already begun. Already increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because they were primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... 

CONTACT!

When his brain connected to The Machine he startled. Being handled as a piece of meat on the slab, as the hazmat-clad men had connected his body to The Machine earlier, had been intrusive enough, but he had managed, because he had signed up to The Project. When his brain connected to The Machine, the level of intrusiveness multiplied. SOMETHING was doing SOMETHING to his mind, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Sweat trickled from his brow and under his olive-green t-shirt. The remaining light in the room took on a beige hue. His ears were buzzing and tinkling. Far, far away, he could hear the voices of two or three young men groan in pain, and far, far away, he could hear the sound of gushing liquid, and the back of his head felt strangely wet, and yet not wet. He could feel a strange pressure build in the back of his head, inside his spine and in his blood vessels. His hands were locked into the sockets, and he was unable to touch the nape of his neck. Dizzy. SOMETHING was doing SOMETHING to his mind. Buzzing and tinkling. His awareness tumbling into the buzzing and tinkling. The room fading away. Fading into light. Dizzy, but feeling better. Better and comfortably warm. Feeling present inside himself. Inside Recruit Number Five. Yeah. That's him: The improving Recruit Number Five. No regret left now. Too deep into The Project. The serum. Inside him. The compounds. Inside him. The added Anabolic Formula. Inside him. Already causing him to change. Already begun. Already increasing his amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because he had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ...

The power streaming through him. Into him from his hands, from the sockets. Power sockets. Connected to The Machine. Part man. Part Machine. Connected. Power into him. Streaming. Through him. Through his body. Through his growing, hardening muscles. Felt good. So good. Growing, hardening muscles. Muscle-stimulating power. Uh! Yes! Reacting. The content in his blood vessels and muscles reacting to the Power streaming into him, streaming through him. The serum reacting to the Power. Inside him. The compounds reacting to the Power. Inside him. The added Anabolic Formula reacting to the Power. Inside him. Causing him to change. Already begun. Increasing his amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because he had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ...

Yeah. Recruit Number Five. Heat. Good heat. His body. Serum in his body. Compund in his body. Formula in his body. Power-stream in his body. Warm. Felt good. Felt stronger. His upper arms swole, rubbing against his lats. Wider back. Deeper chest. Dogtags in pec ravine. YEAH! Pec ravine! Harder abs. Harder. Warmer. More present. Physically present. Heavily present. Wide legs inside his camo-trousers. Quads. Hamstrings. Calves. Necks of his glossy army boots snugly pressed around his ankles. Recruit Number Five! Big, obedient, patriotic grunt! Yeah! He loved to be Recruit Number Five. To please superior officers. To use his INCREASED strength and ENHANCED prowess together with his brothers in arms. For the sake of his brothers in arms. To prove himself. To feel ... to feel ... this feeling of ultra-masculinity in his entire body. Entire body. Entire mind. Well-programmed test subject. Eager to be well-programmed. Eager to become enhanced. Eager to improve. Eager to increase in MUSCLE MASS. Yeah! 

His brothers in arms also adapted to The Procedure. Williams had been wide. He was still wide. He was wider. But his belly was melting away, and was replaced by a parapet of uncrushable well-defined abs. Williams was taller, but still wider than tall. He had been called Tank before. Now he WAS Tank.  Becoming Recruit Number Four. West's already handsome physique had become brawnier. Also taller, and his eyes were turned upwards in his eyesockets as he experienced the anabolic bliss of The Procedure. Becoming Recruit Number Six. The other Ectos ... Ectos no more ... Y-shaped and chiseled giants with powerful chins reclined at their 45° metal benches, writhing in pleasure as they eagerly accepted their mental and physical reprogramming. YEAH! Mental and physical reprogramming!!! They were turning into good recruits, in the blue-tinted light. They were all turning into good recruits, under the impact of the POWER. The fabric of their olive-green t-shirts struggled to keep their bulging muscles inside, and he could feel his own t-shirt cling moistly and slightly uncomfortably tight around his powerful muscles. It was just a matter of seconds. His t-shirt and the others' t-shirts began to give in at the seams, and ripping sounds soon echoed in the granite chamber, while men moaned, equipment hummed unrelentingly, and additional amounts of the Anabolic Formula were pumped into their systems. Forced into them. Forcing them to ... 

YES! Additional amounts of the Anabolic Formula! More! Recruit Number Five needed more! And, as if it had read his mind, The Machine increased the amounts of Anabolic Formula and the energy level of the growth-inducing humming Power. The gushing sound. The louder humming. Buildup of Power inside him, inside them. The sensation of growing further: Bigger! Taller! Wider! Harder! Chiselled! Unstoppable! Men, who were more than men, were part Machine. Men, stimulated into unfathomable and insane levels of ultra-masculinity, began to bellow in a mix of pain, aggression and extreme aroused pleasure, as they crossed the threshold to titanhood. The scent of male sweat. Expectant sweat. Excited sweat. Sweat-beads on exposed, hard beefy chests in the blue transformative light. Blue transformative light. Forming such flattering shadows on their chests and abdomens. Flattering shadows tracing the shapes of their orange-sized abs, their medicine-ball-sized pecs (where their dogtags dangled) and their bowlingball-sized shoulders. The scent of shoe-polish from glossy army boots, now of the desired size. The scent of moth-repellants. Once wide camo-trousers, now clinging to the expanding granite-pillars, that now were their legs. Yes! His Quads. Growing bigger and harder. His Hamstrings. Growing bigger and harder. His Calves. Growing bigger and harder. Quads and hamstrings pushing his legs apart ... apart, forcing him to adjust his stance. Bootclad legs ... wider apart! Confident stance. Asserting stance. Mass-monster-stance. The feeling of having steel-hard muscles. Steel-hard muscles everywhere. Ready to spring into violent action for King and Country! 

Recruit Number Five loved his transformation, and he knew, that his brothers in arms loved their's, too. They were abandoned now. Isolated from the rest of the world. Different from all other men. They had become more. More than the hazmat guys. More than ordinary men. More than ordinary infantry, or Marines or Seals. More than ultra-masculine men. Sharing all these experiences with each other. Reliable lads in a situation. Good men. Invisible ties binding them together, today, and after today. Writhing in pleasure as they eagerly accepted their mental and physical reprogramming. Moaning and bellowing. The dry scent of power-emissions. Muscle-stimulating power. The dry scent of ever INCREASING power-emissions. INCREASING muscle-stimulating power. Wide legs inside his camo-trousers... Bulging chest... His biceps... so fucking hard, huge biceps... Bullneck... Oh, fuck! So much! Almost too much! More! He... Harder. Warmer. More present. Physically present. Even bigger! Taller! Even wider! Harder! Chiselled! Yes! Huge! Becoming ... Uh! ... HUGE! Together. HUGE TOGETHER. His brothers in arms. All the Recruits. Recruits together. Growing together. Transforming together. Crossing all limits together. The serum. Inside them. Reacting to INCREASED POWER! The compounds. Inside them. Reacting to INCREASED POWER! Increasing dose of  Anabolic Formula.  Reacting to ... Uh! Oh, fuck! Reacting to... INCREASED POWER! Causing them to change into... Increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones to MAXIMUM. Because they had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... 

Oh, fuck! Couldn't believe...

Yeah! Obedient patriotic Recruit love to grow!

MAXIMUM level!

Oh, fuck! So much! Almost too much! More! He... Harder. Titanium Titan! The pleasure! It...

MY BRAWN! LOOK AT MY BULGIN' BRAWN!

Enticing allure. Male sweat. Expectant sweat. Excited sweat. Pre-cum. So good! Couldn't...  

The serum. Inside them. Reacting to MAXIMUM POWER! The compounds. Inside them. Reacting to MAXIMUM POWER! Supreme dose of Anabolic Formula. Reacting to MAXIMUM POWER! Reacting to... MAXIMUM POWER! Causing them to change into... 

Increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones to MAXIMUM. Because they had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed to become ... become ... 

Become ...

Become ...

HYPERMARINES

Edited by Hialmar
minor linguistic details, consistency, more linguistic corrections
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DieselMass

Where do I sign up? 😈

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Hialmar
Posted (edited)
3 hours ago, DieselMass said:

Where do I sign up? 😈

It doesn't come as a surprise, that you and I share this particular taste. I enjoyed reading your Tank Procedure very much. Thanks for the like.

Edited by Hialmar
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