portamivia

Ben (A repost)

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portamivia

I posted this on the old forum many years ago.

I'm curious to see if it can be still interesting to the people who've never seen it before. Maybe it'll inspire others to write new chapters in entirely new directions from what had been done in the old forum. Enjoy.

 

 

Ben. 1.

 

Down and down went the elevator, he could never remember how deep, exactly. A freudian block of some kind, maybe? Wanna stay sane? Then don’t think too much, compadre. You could feel the heat receding while descending down the mineshaft, the well getting somehow cooler and damper, and then, in an unsettling way, getting warm again. The magnetically levitating elevator plunged straight into hell, as temperature neared the unbearable. And then it stopped almost instantaneously, the sudden augmented gravity making the men, even these ultra-developed, specifically mutated specimens grunt in unison, their kneecaps and exploding quads absorbing the multiplied weight. The metallic reinforced doors slid screeching open, and the stench of sulfur, ozone and sweat saturated the air. They moved silently into the scarcely lit cave towards their respective shafts without even speaking, the first drops of sweat already soaking their shirts and pants. Here we are, near the core. Some workplace.

 
You must be born into this job, they say. No way you could survive the sheer intensity of the mine work, the onslaught on the muscles and the back, the loudness, the unbreathable air, the solitude, and of course the blackness, the constant scarcity of light and the consequent nostalgia for a day in the sun without being accustomed to it since your birth. Sadly, this being the planet Mars, a day spent idly bronzing on a beach more than a fantasy was a proven impossibility. 
And the thing is, Ben wasn’t born into this job. And neither ware the others. They were made into it. Physically augmented for the job. This was labor camp M01. M for Mars, 01 for it was the first and, for the moment, only colony on this planet. Built by the legion of Superheroes, mind you. Not that the public on earth was ever to know this, of course. A mine, and a prison.
 
Or maybe a prison and then a mine, as if the drilling and the uranium were just some afterthought?—well, here I am again, thinking… Ben shrugged and activated the strange contraption hanging from a specially designed rucksack attached to his body. You could call it a rucksack, if you’ve ever seen a nuclear-powered rucksack weighing around 200Kg, that is. In fact, it was more like a battery. Powering a nuclear drill that could break even through the most sturdy rocks of the known universe, and of course make short history of anything less resistant should it come unto its path. Like a hand, or your foot, or a camp guard, for that matter. That’s why on M01 you could find so many augmented, sturdy men looking all muscular and pumped up like some superhuman bodybuilder (or like Thor, to be more precise) limping around trying to divert your attention from the missing foot flexing their enormous biceps or stroking their equally inhuman cocks—sometimes with the left hand, in want of a right one, pulverized by the powerful yet hardly manageable jackhammer. And no hope of having limbs replaced with some new biomedical ones developed on earth, with this being just some faraway jail-house full of superstrong criminals people either ignored the existence of or wished as far away as possible, when not dead altogether.
 
Ben coughed hard, as always at the beginning of a shift, before throat and lungs got accustomed to the fine uranium-rich dust floating around him as soon as the drill started to break rocks with its ultrarapid microvibrations. 4 Years like this. He wiped his eyebrows.
These were tears alright but not for sadness, he repeated to himself plunging the drill into the rocks again, his triceps exploding, his arms hard and unmovable, rocks creaking all around. Can’t be sadness, never. He punched the rock, chunks flying everywhere, a fissure creaking a couple meters down the shaft. It has to be rage. Rage can be your friend, here, actually your only friend. Rage can save you.
 
On M01 you got acquainted with rage as if it were your next-of-kin, as soon as you got raped the first night, before the doctors called you in and put you through the augmentation process. And then after it, when you were excited, feeling like superman and looking just as muscular and maybe horny as hell and aggressive and all, well then it was certainly not the end. That was just the beginning. People got if possible more violent, you could get assaulted practically every minute especially during work shifts, for no apparent reason except the thrill of trying out all this strength on someone. Anybody could be a target, as long as the aggression involved at least 2 or 3 people against one. Ben snorted. What use is there in being superstrong, if everybody else is it too?
 
Ben heaved the small cart now full of rocks and adjusted it on the tracks, then pushed it grunting up the shaft. As soon as he got it moving, its magnetic propulsion system took command, and it glided silently up and away. He stood there panting for a couple seconds, the shirt beautifully stretching over his powerful torso at every breath, revealing the perfectly sculpted lower abs where they began to get covered by the dark trail of hair coming up from his crotch, there where the pants absconded the realm of pleasure that was his ample basket. Ben reached for a flask of water hanging from its belt and drank some of the dense, mineral-rich water inside. 15 second pause, see if I can make it 20 or even 30? But then he heard, before even seeing, the small floating camera coming and zooming in on him. Alright, alright. He gave it the finger, of course, but started the drill again all the same.
 
He admired his manly hands as they gripped the drill strongly. So strongly in fact, that even this special metal bore the indentations of his fingers. After all these years, he was still somehow aroused by the sight of his own arms, his forearms especially, with all the little powerful muscles dancing around at every movement of his hand, like little supermen themselves, ready at his orders to give a hand or to get into a fight, prevail on anything and crush it to dust. He didn’t know if it was the same for everybody, but seeing how everyone couldn’t help but flex in front of every mirror they might come across, he was ready to bet it was: power made him horny. He wondered if Superman, or Thor or Hercules ever felt like this watching themselves, flexing their godlike muscles. Could he be as strong as them? Certainly not.
 
In fact, inmates like Ben were strong and hung and physically practically perfect, they could curl a ton and withstand normally deadly environmental conditions (not to mention fucking each other—mostly without consent of the fucked ones—for hours) but still they were abused, and prisoners all the same. The M01 had its own way of belittling you, making you feel vulnerable and unsafe. Not a difficult task on planet without a proper athmosphere… And the guards were augmented too, obviously.
Everybody dreamed of getting back to earth and show ‘them’ what a man really was, but in fact nobody knew anything about any actual inmate returning to earth to live as a god among mortals. When new inmates came in, invariably they had never heard anything about the augmentation process. Ben once asked a guard about it, and before being as usually punished with the high-charge electrical dissuasor the bastard said inmates were allowed to live a somewhat normal life in special reserves, like the indians did. Or you can stay with us indefinitely, if you don’t like the idea, sucker. FRAZZ!
 
So as long as they could work, even if physically injured, inmates had a chance to see the end of their detention period and ‘return to earth’, whatever that might really mean. If not, weird, perfectly timed incidents seemed to happen all of a sudden. Like some emergency door in a not too deep tunnel opening unexpectedly and sucking a fatally injured or rebellious inmate out into the scorching heat and airless surface of the planet, were eyes and lungs exploded outward, the skin got fried by the sun and life left you even before your superhuman corpse touched earth. That is, Mars.
 
Oh, well. Let’s get to work, or this day’ll never pass. Ben adjusted his grip on the drill and pushed it further into the rock. He smiled, after all. Can you think of anything more macho than this? he thought. Isn’t that the very image of fucking? To drill into the rock, tearing the damned thing and the whole fucking red planet in two with the power of a unrelenting drill, driven by the steady, superhumanly strong grip of his hand, all this inhuman power in himself unleashing against this hard yet unsuspecting matter which may try to resist but will finally submit to the swelling of his triceps, the sheer, unstoppable might of his pecs and quads and calves, his ass contracting, pushing him forward, and further still, the indestructible rock proving no match for his brawn, or the power that he unleashes with utter pleasure and abandonment, and… Ripp!
 
Aw, fuck! Long time it didn’t happen to me, he grinned to himself, snapping back to reality. He smiled at his proud cock saluting him out of the pants it just effortlessly ripped apart. They augmented us but nobody has still invented anything wearable strong enough to contain a superhuman cock once it decides to get hard.
Trying not to lose control of the dangerous drill in his excited state he looked around. Good, fucking camera not in sight. He pushed the drill further into the rock, intensifying the motion and breaking the wall of the tunnel at the height of his torso, so as to have the lower side of it brushing against his thighs and crotch. Not that whoever was operating the camera would have had much to say had he catched him doing this, it being a favorite pastime of every inmate, as long as it didn’t stop you from work.
Brushing against the rock Ben got himself harder then it, and then, bending his knees slightly, rammed his cock inside the protruding part of the wall, shivers of pleasure traversing every mound of muscle on his godlike form, grunts of pleasure escaping his lips, the drill steady in his hand, the metal groaning and bending under his grip. The poor rock wasn’t anywhere as hard as him, it really had no chance. And offering little resistance, too. No way this mineral could prove harder then the asscheeks of any other inmate he had already the pleasure to force into submission and fuck… His cock and thighs pulverized the rock around them almost as efficiently as the nuclear drill itself. The harder-then steel shaft hungry for resistance, making its way into the rock as far as possible… I’m a fucking god of a man, a fucking unstoppable mountain of muscle, a fucking fuck machine…
 
He picked up speed, large chunks of rock collapsing all around him, the drill in his hand going faster then ever, his forehead brushing against the wall and actually denting it like the rest of his almost indestructible body, his pelvis getting quicker and quicker, the unmovable rock being crushed and cracked by a power it had never withstand in all the millennia it lived. Inmates in other tunnels began to feel the vibrations even while working the drill. Some of them got aroused too.
Feeling himself close, Ben stopped the drill lest he lose control of it and launching a last assault against the rock rammed his fingers right INTO the wall, gnawed at it, crushing chunks of it under his bare teeth and RAMMED his mighty, superhumanly hard cock into the rock, his 8-pack shredding the shirt and leaving indentations on the wall, every muscle flexed and engorged with blood and earth-shattering POWER. His cock exploded, and he bellowed, cum spraying everywhere, lights flickering around, and small particles of rocks snowing down in the other tunnels on inmates who smiled for themselves betting on who it was this time or getting hard themselves, zipper breaking and pants ripping.
 
His hand still on the wall idly crushing pieces of rock to dust, his cock getting slowly soft again, Ben’s first action as soon as his mind cleared enough for it was to get the drill in function again: the cameras were to return soon, you could always bet on it. No point in being punished again, maybe frazzed into unconsciousness with electric charges, or left without food for days, like the last time. Without much thinking he started to amass all the broken, vanquished boulders into another cart.
And yet, he didn’t feel as spent as usual after an orgasm, especially after one so explosive as this. Strange. Something began to make its way into his head… Wait a minute… Did I just BITE the rock? Since when could anybody DO that? For the first time, he watched around himself. His heart skipping a beat, not exactly for fear. Was this all his cum? The small tunnel looked almost like a riverbed. A riverbed of cum. Since when do I cum so much? Where did this come from? And why am I getting hard again? He shuffled his feet on the ground, his working boots sticky with goo. He looked at himself: his hands seemed somehow bigger, and of a strange, pallid color. And then… What’s this?! He had practically no shirt at all, it was all in shreds, and his pants ripped around his bulging quads too. He moved and flexed his thigh, just for the pleasure of it, marveling at the swiftness of the movements, the elegance of those brutal masses of fluid power that could in an instant become so much harder then any rock. He didn’t feel spent. Quite the contrary, he felt stronger. No, mightier, sexier even. The explanation revealed itself in all his simplicity: I grew. The thought made him all hard again. He felt constricted even by his boots.
 
But then of course three cameras appeared simultaneously humming and floating around him… He had broken the rhythm of the carts, thus slowing down the whole chain of work up at the refinement facility. “Inmate Sherman! Resume activity immediatly! As soon as your shift ends, report to…” Suddenly he felt bold. Stronger, really unstoppable. Invulnerable. A part of his mind was telling him that this was another of the usual delusions, the power-trips that could overcome new inmates in the first week of experiencing the exhilarating effects of superstrength, breaking havoc on the walls of the containment facility (which had no sense at all, being there no way to escape if not onto the red deadly desert planet out there), attacking guards or paramilitary staff on the base, believing they could really do anything, and ending always into submission and humiliation, the more painfully the better.
But another part of him was screaming louder and louder, like if suddenly breaking free from some kind of confinement, feeding from some invisible and new source of power, inflating his muscles, making him feel like a real superman, no, like a GOD, and letting his dick go into overdrive, the mighty, vein-covered shaft rising again in all its splendor. He moved with a quickness that surprised even him, grabbing the camera into his hand and immediately crushing it into dust. “Inmate Sherman! This will be considered mutiny! Do you know what kind of punishment… ” he grabbed and destroyed the other two cameras, just for the hell of it. Their little metallic body offered no more resistance then a mosquito to a normal man. Alarms began to reverberate all around, energy shields sealing the tunnels to prevent inmates to group and oppose resistance. They were coming. Ben, began feeling suddenly very calm. Even pleasantly so. He grabbed his belt, which was of a special alloy making it ultra resistant and easily teared it apart. What was remaining of his pants fell down, then he teared away the remnants of the shirt, kicked away the boots. He was nude, he felt alive as never before. He stood there for a second enjoying in a sort of stupefied way the sheer fact of breaking all rules and not being terrorized by it, but turned on, instead. He closed his hand around his cock, not so surprised by now in finding it bigger, stronger than ever. They were coming. With stunners, firearms, muscles bigger than his. Well, maybe until now bigger than his. He stood there smiling in the dim light, a living statue of muscles harder than any marble ever, his dick in one hand. He flexed a biceps and marveled at the sight of so much power, he licked it with abandonment. They were coming, they had to be in the elevators already. And yet I couldn’t care less. Or maybe I do?
 
He wasn’t perhaps the most beautiful man in the whole complex, a blond, slavic guard or a rugged Brasilian inmate maybe claiming the prize, but he knew he had a special, unique combination of refined male facial features (black hair and blue eyes, perfect nose and square jaw), and big powerful muscles packed onto a body that seemed short until you came actually near him, when you saw his killer smile grinning down on you, his blue sparkling eyes focused on you, mostly lethally. Just why the hell was he standing there stroking his dick in the tunnel thinking about how beautiful he was? Now here’s old Reason again, arguing. Relax. Reason doesn’t apply to you anymore… He didn’t know what sort of power source had overcome him —given that one really did in the first place— but it surely made him feel powerful and calm and cocksure as hell. He felt godly, he couldn’t find any other word. He stroked his ample organ once and then took a piece of rock from the cart in one hand and smashed it against his ultra-cock, grinning at how fragile the stone felt in his hand compared to his manhood, grinding it against his skin, slowly pulverizing it. He carefully took in the movements of his superhumanly strong forearm muscles… imagining all the supermen on the planet fighting each other for the honor of pleasuring him, kneeling submissively in front of the columns of power that were his legs, licking his thighs and slowly up until reaching his balls and then the harder-than-steel shaft, looking up pleadingly like the slaves they were, licking him clean of all the precum he was abundantly releasing. He abandoned his head backwards enjoying the fantasy, which he didn’t really think of as a fantasy, after all, and only then noticed the strange light flickering from a fissure in the –now to him very small– tunnel. A particular shade of green. He smiled.
 
He heard, with an eerie clearness, the elevator doors opening, boots of running men. At least seven. He ignored the screams and calls of the others inmates, who where trying to understand what was going on. Whathever IT was, it was behind the wall he had just fucked. He reared his fist and hit the wall with all his might. 
 
Which he probably by now underestimated. The blow felt to the others inmates like a nuclear explosion, happened once when one of the drills overheated and the battery blew, killing everybody on the floor, as the tunnel collapsed. Only this one was to obliterate everything in the whole sector and would be the last thing they would ever hear. The wall in front of Ben got simply pulverized, tunnels all around his now titanic figure collapsing over inmates and guards not strong enough to sustain the immense weight, the elevators shafts crumbling and trapping the cars in their distorted tracks, shock-waves reverberating to the surface like a strong earthquake, breaking equipment and causing a fire, making personnel in the facility fall on they very sorry asses… The planet itself was shook, like by a shiver of fear.
 
A silence of death came upon the whole sector, but Ben couldn't care less. He opened his eyes, his gaze able to see clearly through the abating dust. He was bathed in green light. Before him, boiling from the heat coming directly from the core of the planet, was a huge underground lake. A green boiling, turbulent, dangerous-looking mass of hot liquid, perhaps originating from molten rocks. He felt a power surge not even comparable to the augmentation process, which was instead rather troublesome and painful. He gasped for air, and stretched every muscle of his body, his hands reaching the ceiling and simply pushing through, the rocks irrelevant to his strength. What is this stuff? Oh.. oh god!
 
He came again, veins covering every part of his body, muscles reshaping in more superhumanly beautiful way, his cum spraying all over the strange lake. The orgasm lasting minutes and then beginning anew still. He was growing, adding muscle to muscle, the feeling of strength and power inside him becoming almost unbearable, the pleasure supreme. He was standing at an aperture he created with his blow in the wall of the cave, up over the brim of the lake, inside this immense and strangely lit hollow space that had till now escaped every geological survey of the planet. The boiling liquid stretched in front of him for what seemed like a mile, the river of his white cum mixing with the color. It had to be very hot, yet he felt a pleasant warm sensation. As yet another orgasm subsided, he watched at himself, looking at his hands in astonishment: not only had he grew again, amassing more unstoppable brawn on his already inhuman figure, but he had also turned a slight green. Must be some gamma radiation in the fluid… I’m becoming a fucking Hulk! 
 
Well, an intelligent, incredibly strong and probably very mean fucking Hulk, he thought. Very well. Now what? He felt still hungry for more power. He looked around, he was aware of having caused the death of all his shift companions and a series of incidents up on the surface but he couldn’t be bothered by the thougth. Instead he felt a stirring in his cock again, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face. So many superstrong badasses squashed like bugs because I threw a single punch? How lame is that? How fucking unthinkably powerful am I now? He stroked his dick into hardness again (Will I ever have enough?) and sneered at the idea of having ever been a prisoner. Contained, chained, submitted. He was a god now. Time for this universe to become his playground.
 
He squared his gigantic shoulders, passed his hands onto his pecs feeling the enormous, unstoppable mass of brawn. He looked at the pulsing sphere of contained yet terrifying power that were his biceps, caressed his thighs, feeling every muscle saluting him, springing to attention, ready to effortlessly crush any planet that might irritate him into a pulp. Just like those other fuckers back here, he smiled. Then he stretched, appreciating the pleasure of having so much deadly power at his complete disposal and saw the lake of boiling liquid for what it was. His own personal little swimming pool.
 
With a light push on his feet which made part of the wall of the cave crumble into dust he plunged elegantly into the scorching hot, boiling mass of liquid.
 
 
 
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goremeridian

Damn! I remember reading this story once before. INSANELY hot stuff...and of course I can't help but wish Ben would get even stronger...like, MUCH, MUCH stronger still...

 

Phew!

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iceman751

Yes! I definitely loved reading this story when it was first posted, I am a fan of super strength, seeing Ben so easily destroy stone and steel with his bare hands, to see him survive temperatures into thousands of degrees without even getting a tan. It was an incredible story to read. And I love the sequels to this story too, the next chapter, it's even better than this chapter! At least imo.

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Shade

I should probably give fair warning that this installment features some violence. But after all New Mars is not a very nice place.

Stig. 2.

Stig hated his job.

Life in Labour Camp M01 was hard on both inmates and guards. Or at least that’s what Stig told himself. Although he was daily reminded by his supervisor it was a blessing he didn’t have to work in the mines themselves. He didn’t have to spend the rest of his existence breaking apart rocks; he only had to control the ones who did. Those brutish augmented men that quarried the precious resources this planet offered.

The guards had to be augmented too of course. No mere mortal man could withstand the radioactive fires in the belly of this planet, or the intense gravity that would have crushed his bosses back on Earth were they to spend much time here outside of their protective suits and vehicles.

The process on the guards was different from the augmentation of the prisoners. When a prisoner arrived on the New Mars mining colonies he was soon sent for genetic engineering – a painful, but permanent process of physical augmentation. His whole body was physically changed into a creature whose remaining existence would be to serve as a slave to the people of Earth and their endless hunger for energy that the radioactive minerals of this planet provided. For without the vast quantities of fuel the New Mars colonies provided, there could be no nuclear fusion, no interstellar travel, and the Earth long exhausted of its own fossil fuels would be thrown back to the Iron Age.

New Mars was thus a critical establishment, which is why even the greatest and most moral of the superheroes of Earth were happy to tolerate its existence. The people of Earth could bask in their mid-twenty-first century comforts, and forget about the men who provided the foundation for them.

That’s in part why the guards on the other hand were all chosen from small, weak specimens of manhood. The prison service lured in the bullied with the promise of unbridled physical power that was maintained by a form of super steroid injected weekly. If a guard was ever to stop dosing with that serum he would weaken quickly, his muscles fading like the dew in the morning, as his body was subjected to the forces of the planet and became prey for those stronger – either other guards or thrown to the prisoners themselves, eager for any kind of revenge they could muster. No a guard without the serum didn’t last long.

Stig knew. Oh, he knew in his heart that the guards were every bit as much prisoners as the men they guarded. There was no escape; no easy way to a life back on Earth when this was all over. If you were still altogether sane, you’d still be changed beyond recognition. You would no longer be quite safe for the general population.

So the guards with nothing better to do amused themselves with their own strength. Tormenting the prisoners as they were once tormented. And preying on the weak amongst themselves, using their phenomenal muscle to control the inmates of this hell in space.

And no one cared. No one would do a thing as long as the ore kept coming.

You could show no weakness. Stig remembered his childhood away from the big cities. The coasts that had flooded as the polar ice caps had melted away. But he’d had a pleasant enough childhood until his father sent him to the central state military school. He knew his father had to do it. They were farmers. They couldn’t afford all their children. Stig was the weak one. The runt of the litter. His mother wept the day he last saw her. But his father had a determined look. He’d told Stig that his only hope lay with those who could invest the time to make him a man and give him a future.

Except it didn’t work. The other boys, and as they all aged, the young men, could see Stig’s heart was not in a military life. He made no friends; his self-confidence shattered. And he faced the life of an infantry soldier. A man who was merely fodder for the laser cannons in the wars that still raged on Earth in the backwater provinces.

It was no wonder then that when they came looking for potential recruits for the New Mars colony, Stig jumped at the chance. The offer of power over other men was intoxicating, but more than that the offer of a new life and a new body sealed the deal. Stig was on the next mining shuttle.

He may not quite have appreciated the atmosphere when he arrived though. He stood tall enough, with enough muscle forged at the academy to pass the basic physical tests. But here he looked up at the guards who towered over him like titans. Stig was like a stick insect in comparison. Each man a massive wall, thick, deadly, and he knew both fear and desire. Desire to become like them.

The night of his initiation he had been dosed with a supersaturated concentration of the formula. The other guards liked to amuse themselves and they would force the newbies like Stig into the pit with the latest arrivals of convicts. Men who had not yet been augmented. Stig still felt small when Brock, his new supervisor picked him up and threw him off the balcony that ran above the holding cells. He was still wearing the uniform that he’d been given back on Earth, and it was hard to believe it had only been twenty-four hours since he’d left given the speed of interstellar warp drives.

The prisoners, both frightened and confused, fell upon this morsel dropped like manna from heaven. No two prisoners were the same. But all had been convicted by the hard laws of the home world, a world which now tolerated no civil disobedience.

Terror flooded through Stig as he fell the thirty feet into the swarming mass of naked flesh below. Prisoners at this stage were not allowed clothes. Some of the bigger ones had already begun amusing themselves at the expense of the weaker prisoners. But when a guard falls in your midst you don’t want to waste an opportunity.

He immediately felt the hands that reached and tore off the uniform, grabbing and squeezing at the young flesh. Stig wasn’t sure if they were going to tear him apart or fuck him. Maybe both. Adrenaline roared into his system, he screamed, feeling cock at ass and mouth, being shoved and penetrated, as rough hands grabbed his flesh with crushing force and man after man spilled hot semen inside and on him.

Almost at the point of despair, Stig assumed he must have failed a test. They must not have given him the right formula after all. This is what they did to reject guards. And who would there be to mourn him?

As the fourth cock tore into his glutes he felt a stirring in his veins. The pain was passing and leaving in its wake a euphoric state of bliss as his muscles tensed with the best pump that Stig had ever felt in his life.

He bit down on the cock in his mouth until he tasted blood and released it to have it quickly withdrawn, a powerful fist slamming into his face in answer, as the man he’d been sucking howled. Stig actually laughed it off as it felt like such a weak response. It didn’t even turn his head.

Below he felt his glutes thickening, expanding in every direction as his cock started to rise. He began to squeeze his arse and he felt the thrusts of the man in his arse slow and stop, he continued squeezing and the man in his arse began to howl as his dick was crushed by titanic forces. Stig finally relented, the man pulling away in agony. As the men dropped him and began to move away from him in fear, Stig could see the bloody crushed cock that had so recently been raping him. He didn’t feel pity or remorse. Rather he enjoyed the sight and it stirred the primeval beast within him.

On his knee he stood and felt the power of the serum pour into him. Every part of his body was soaked in the formula, and now activating Stig could feel the immense power growing in his muscles. He knew from what he’d been told that it would be weeks before his was at full strength. But right now he was pretty sure that there was no man in this room who could harm him.

They did try though, afraid of their lives. And Stig tossed them aside until the pain of his swollen cock reminded him of how much he needed to fuck. And Stig fucked. He fucked the arse of every man in that pit, over and over, until at last they lay there spent and Stig, also exhausted fell to one knee.

For a few moments the sexual ecstasy of power and growth had simply been too much and he couldn’t quite remember all that happened. Merely his own power and the need to fuck.

The door had opened then and a man, silhouetted in the light, walked into the pit. It was Brock.

“Come.” He turned and left. After a moment Stig got up, his legs growing stronger and he walked out after Brock. No, he swaggered out.

Stig realised that he was a hulking man now. He would have to relearn some things. And as he came to stand before Brock the door slid shut behind him and the other guards slammed their mighty hands on his back to congratulate him for completing his initiation into their order. He hardly felt their hands as he stood there drinking in their congratulation and feeling for the first time in his life like he might belong somewhere.

He walked to Brock and soon realised that he was now looking down. He turned and saw he was now the tallest man in the room.

“You’ve done really well son. It’s been years since we’ve seen aggression like that!” said one of the other guards. “You’re already the biggest guard we’ve had in five years, if not the biggest ever.”

Stig soon realised that several factors went into the effectiveness of the serum. Genetic obviously, but also the capacity for power and physical aggression. A sort of thing that could not be taught and could not be bought. Terror helped to activate the formula, so terror is what the other guards provided to the newbies. Tests revealed that at one dose he could already bench press ten tons. More than some guards who had been on this rock for years. Future doses only increased this power exponentially. Stig was soon acknowledged by far as the biggest and the strongest of any person ever to live on New Mars, inmate and guard alike. Amongst the guards he always won each strength competition and guards would wager on how many inmates Stig could fuck before his cock lost rigidity. Others would beg for the pleasure Stig’s cock could provide and the protection his power could offer. He felt at home and in an atmosphere where he could at last shine.

But after four years he realised how petty it all had become, and how petty it would all stay. Several guards retired and returned to Earth. Of the ones Stig knew, both had committed suicide. They couldn’t get used to the loss of power and weakness that came from giving up the serum.

The thought also terrified Stig as well. Here, on this planet, he was like Superman or Thor. He could toss boulders for fun and outmuscle anyone. But if he ever left then what would become of him? He couldn’t stand to lose the power his muscles provided, even if only in this backwater part of the universe.

So you see, he was just as much a prisoner as Ben Sherman.

Yes, Stig knew of Inmate Sherman. Stig new all the prisoners in his section and Sherman was a man Stig watched very closely.

Stig remembered Ben well, because they’d been on the same transport to this rock in space. And that first night he’d used Ben’s arse many, many times. That was the night before Ben had been augmented.

After four years Sherman was mostly a very model prisoner, even if he had some serious lapses. He was generally liked by the guards. He made his daily quotas. Kept his head down. During the uprising three years ago, he’d laid low. Stig had personally crushed the skulls of over a hundred prisoners that day. But in the midst of the fighting he’d found Ben in his cell. Smart enough not to participate. Or at least not to get caught.

Stig sighed thinking of all this. He didn’t know what it was, but today he just had a feeling. His mother had spoken about having such feelings when he was a boy. It was like there was a strange tension in the air. Normally he dismissed such nonsense as superstition, but today he’d grabbed his breathing mask and his mag cannon rifle with some trepidation as he followed the prisoners down to core of this miserable world and into the mines. Stig intended to remain in Ben’s allotted work area, with an eye to the monitors. He watched Ben in the monitors as the robotic flying prison cameras whizzed around monitoring the activity of the prisoners.

Ben was a big lad. He started his work. Stig watching as Ben plunged the drill into the rocks, his triceps exploding, his arms hard and immovable, rocks cracking all around. He worked fast and clean heaving minerals into one of the prison carts for processing, his muscle straining as he pushed it up the shaft until its magnetic propulsion system took command. Sherman stood there, and Stig realised that of all the prisoners he had a special beauty to him. Where other men had lost limbs or sustained other injuries, Ben was still perfect. Even more perfect for the power of his torso and the sculpted muscle that let him fulfil his mission.

Stig realised Ben had taken too long a break and tapped the pad on his monitor so the camera would signal it was time to return to work. Stig watched and smiled to himself as Ben flipped off the camera. But Sherman started his drill again. Stig nodded, satisfied, and looked away at the other prisoners for a moment.

When Stig turned back to Ben he sent the normal cameras away and instead used a cloaked camera the prisoners didn’t know about. Stig’s eyes widened as he saw the powerful form of Ben using the drill, but as he watched he saw that Ben’s cock was out. It had torn free of his uniform, standing proudly in front of him as his continued his work. It wasn’t that surprising and did happen from time to time. That much testosterone and the vibrations of the work could make many men horny. Stig new the amount of testosterone raging inside Ben because he could feel it raging in himself, and there was even more of it in himself.

What happened next did surprise Stig for he’d never really seen anything like it before. Ben bent his knees slightly, rammed his cock inside the protruding part of the wall, the drill steady in his hand. Stig’s eyes widened as he saw the poor rock give in response to Ben’s cock. That wasn’t possible. No man was strong enough to fuck that granite. But the prisoner’s cock and thighs pulverized the rock around them almost as efficiently as the nuclear drill would have done.

He picked up speed, large chunks of rock collapsing all around Ben. Sherman’s forehead brushed against the wall and actually dented it. Stig became aware that he could feel the vibrations Ben was causing as far away even as he was. This was not right. Stig felt his own cock harden at the thought of all that power.

When Stig saw Ben ram his fingers into the wall, and appear to bite it. He knew he had to get over there and deal with this prisoner. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew of all the guards it was only his superhuman muscle that stood a chance of defending the colony from this prisoner. He radioed for back-up and then ran toward where Ben was working.

As he ran down the corridor, several large fissures had opened in the wall. Several of the prisoners shouted to understand what was going on but Stig ordered them back to work. He rounded a bend in the tunnel and was amazed as he felt a strange sensation in his gait. Stig was a man used to having thighs that would rival redwood trees back on Earth, but he realised that his legs had gotten bigger indeed. The seam of his trouser leg suddenly tore and he stood there marvelling at it. What was causing this?

Around him a glow seeped through cracks in the walls, and Stig looked back as several of the prisoners too seemed affected by the strange light. Two moved toward cracks that they saw. Their bodies expanding larger as they neared the glow.

The closest of the two prisoners, who by prison standards was not very big, reached out and stuck his hand into a fissure, pulling out a lump of rock and holding it in his hand. As it glowed the prisoner grew. The other man, basking in the light grew too, but much more slowly. His cock tore through his uniform and he reached down to stroke it. New Mars was a masculine place. No women were powerful enough to survive augmentation and that meant that homosexual activity was rampant. Stig was not shy to see a cock, but he felt his eyes grow wide as he watched that massive pole expand longer and thicker.

The prisoner turned to look at Stig. He was no longer small and now rivalled even the guards in size. Like Ben he took a bite of the rock and grinned, a little bit madly, as he approached Stig through the corridor. As he walked his body exploded out of the fabric and he casually began to squeeze the drill he held in his hands until it was a ball of tangled metal which he tossed aside.

Stig as the strongest of the guards had been tested benching over fifty tons, but when this massive behemoth grabbed him Stig felt like he had no power at all. It was like that night back on his arrival at the prison when he was at the mercy of those inmates. This man in whose grip he was now held continued to squeeze the life out of Stig’s massively thick neck and it was impossible to breath. He grabbed a rock and started clobbering the prisoner in the head. Dazing the man, Stig was released and managed to scramble away, but Stig’s breathing mask had been ripped off in the struggle. Soon the prisoner was reaching for him again, murder on his mind. Stig took in massive gulps of air, desperate to breath. And felt the radioactive dust fill his lungs, along with something else. He felt his body beginning to expand faster also. His strength already legendary felt like it was growing very quickly, the power intoxicating, and he punched the prisoner hard in the stomach repeatedly until it no longer hurt his hand. The prisoner didn’t look too bothered however.

Stig backed up right against the glowing wall and tore off his damaged shirt. He felt the light hitting his lats as he stood there, eyeing the prisoner, and then he felt the power enter his body. He grabbed at the rock and shoved his hands in feeling the power filling him up. Then he sprang at the prisoner using every ounce of power he had in him, leaping on him, his hands to the prisoner’s head.

The man grabbed Stig’s biceps, and Stig felt the other prisoner behind him trying to stop him. But this was a fight Stig had to win. The man was crushing his arms, but his fingers crushed his head and after what seemed to him an eternity the skull of the man beneath him finally shattered, blood and gore exploding out. Turning he threw off the other prisoner, who was growing ever larger. But so was Stig.

The light seemed to shine brighter and Stig walked into it.

Alarms began to reverberate all around, energy shields sealing the tunnels to prevent inmates from resisting the guards. Stig heard the boots of his fellow guards finally arriving. He would take care of this other prisoner and then deal with Sherman. Just then an earthquake tore through the mines. The stones of the ceiling rumbled, collapsing on the inmate in front of Stig, and he felt the wall behind him give. The roof sank down alarmingly and Stig pushed against the weight of tons of rock heaving it away as he moved. He would be damned if he would let Sherman get away. He smashed through rock and debris clearing the tunnel as he went, the shockwaves reverberating around him as the earlier quake had.

Finally he tore his way into a massive open cavern and farther away he could see Sherman with his back to Stig. Below was a boiling, turbulent mass of hot liquid. It looked like green molten lava. Stig sensed this was the source of the power he’d been feeling, and obviously what Ben and the other inmates had been feeling too. Such power! It was greater than anything he’d ever felt as a high off the serum.

Sherman was now massive. His body bathed in the light of the glowing green liquid as did Stig’s. Ben was like a Hulk. He was certainly as large as the Hulk. Maybe bigger. Stig walked closer, his footing difficult. Inmate Sherman was inside his own world, lost in ecstasy, and Stig struggled to control his emotions and concentrate will to control the power he could feel acting strongly on him as well. His muscles thickened too. His shoulders growing ever more vast and his height rising upwards. His clothes had torn away and he watched as Sherman’s cum erupted then, outwards towards the liquid. Stig felt his own organ erupt uncontrollably sending out wave after wave of pure bliss through his mind fog. He also felt the powerful formula in his veins; a heavy dose of it still fresh in his system from the injection he’d received last night. Stig wondered whether it would further augment him as it interacted with this green substance.

Stig was almost close enough to reach out to Ben, who was still apparently unaware of Stig's presence. Stig felt how large and enormous he had grown, and he could see he was head and shoulders bigger now than Sherman. He prepared to tackle this smaller Hulk in front of him that was once Ben, but Stig felt the cave crumbling. Then Sherman stepped off the edge and out of his grasp.

He groaned from pleasure and frustration. Then the rock under his feet, still covered in both of their cum, shattered and Stig felt himself falling forward after Sherman. He flailed momentarily, but couldn’t grab anything. He realised though he didn’t want to. He embraced his destiny as he hit the hot lava and his world changed forever.

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portamivia

Oh shit yesssss! That's not what I had in mind: it's so much hotter.

Not one but TWO gods. This will be fun!

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arpeejay

Just curious:

 

Mars, or New Mars? As I'm sure you know, the 4th planet from the Sun only has about 1/3rd the gravity of Earth and it is bitterly bitterly cold. On the warmest day of summer, at the equator, it might get up to the freezing point but apparently that's a pretty rare event.

 

Otherwise:

 

Great work! Excellent descriptions!

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Shade

Yeah, I thought about that too. Thus I've done a bit of retconning from Portamivia's original text as a result. Hence the birth of New Mars and the inclusion of interstellar travel.

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neverbigenoughmuscle

Great story! Can't wait for more!!!

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NerdJock

Yeah, I thought about that too. Thus I've done a bit of retconning from Portamivia's original text as a result. Hence the birth of New Mars and the inclusion of interstellar travel.

 

Awesome as always, Shade!

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kadan

Fantastic !! Can you complete this hot story plz

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