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muscle-growth Project Defender Chapter Four

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This chapter will be very, very dark, since it does explore the mind of Cpl. De Vries, who is a well-known nuisance from earlier chapters.


Chapter One is here:



Chapter Two is here:



Chapter Three is here:




The following story do contain heavy amounts 

of racial slur, homophobia,

several forms of prejudice 

and mental images of violence.

Please do not read this if you are offended 

by anything of the aforementioned.

The author do not condone

any of the opinions or values the character expresses.


Project Defender - Chapter 4 


De Vries sat on his bed, already awake, although it was several hours until reveille. When he had looked himself in the mirror before the experiment, he had seen an Aryan, just as his dad used to say. When he had looked himself in the mirror after the experiment, he had seen a perfect Aryan. He was big now. And strong. He cupped his left pec with his right hand. But he was surrounded by idiots. Idiots that held him back. There was a war raging out there, and the idiots went on about safety concerns, correct procedure, democracy, scientific method and other civilian bullshit he wasn’t interested in. He wanted to smash space squid. But first he wanted to have his revenge on the idiots. And the midgets. And the monkey boy. And Major Murphy. And the disgusting little fag. No-one should stand in his way.


He had made his decision. He rose and walked through the empty corridors to the Lab. It was dark, but a LED helped him find the switch. The air in the room was strangely humid and warm, like the machines had been used several hours later than usual and not cooling down the way they normally did in night time, but he didn’t think more about it.


The screens were turned on, but the screen savers were activated. Idiots. Under other conditions, this could have caused a security breech. Do they know nothing about computers? But now, this would make his revenge easier: Just what boffins leaving their computers on deserve. 


He watched the screens, and pushed some of the keys, first curious, then excited. 


They had held him back on purpose, the sanctimonious nerds. They could have pumped him full of a much larger dose of that what-it-was-called, and they could have increased those golden rays and things much more. He remembered the intense pleasure the Field and the Rays had given him, when he had bathed in that otherworldly non-burning golden fire. The hair on his forearms and his back-hair tingled pleasantly and he felt how he became hard. Yes, he had liked it, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more of it, and he wanted to be bigger than anyone else in the project.


He stared at the screen. Once a test subject had absorbed the nano-bots, it was obviously possible to reprogram them further by IV, if the subject underwent a repeated treatment. He didn’t need a new dose of nano-bots, just air and an IV.


He had found the display of the two anatomical charts and found the log about his present enhanced physique. He copied the green chart of his present build, and made it into a new blue chart: the starting-point for something even more amazing. He could feel how his engorged dick pulsated against the inside of his shining black, leathery uniform trousers. The engineer who designed these trousers must have been another fucking damned fag, but he had to admit that they were very comfortable, and they actually made him look aggro when he saw himself in the mirror, so it wasn’t exactly a catastrophe. He concentrated on the screen again.


Ah! It was possible to click on the sketch in green lines, in order to mark which muscle to design. And then these boxes and numbers… His back-hair tingled again and he salivated. He could design exactly how he wanted to look! Every man want insane biceps. And an even bigger chest sounds good. And traps. He clicked on a number of different muscles, and changed the numbers in the boxes. A cartoonish figure drawn in green lines began to form. The ridiculously broad-shouldered man in the sketch was built something like the comics character The Hulk, but with a much more exaggerated physique. Another man, and probably all women, would have considered the sketch ugly and monstrous, but De Vries stared on it longingly: With muscles like that, no-one would be able to stop him.


He wasn’t a science guy, but 1000% level of Hypertrophic Radiation sounded good - yeah: really good - and a target level of 1000 milli-sheldrake sounded like it matched the other figure. He had chosen the alternative ’auto-procedure’, so no-one else was needed to oversee the process. This amazing machine would follow his wishes and demands, and make him into what he wanted. He pressed enter.


Modified settings not available under present symmetry protocol


’Deactivate symmetry protocol.’


Are you sure you want to deactivate symmetry protocol?


What the bloody hell?



Symmetry protocol deactivated


That was a relief. The computer behaved just like the idiots, but it was possible to subdue it to do one’s will. Enter.


Modified settings not available under present functionality protocol


Rage was rising from the inside of his mind. 

Crawling. Erupting.


’Deactivate functionality protocol.’


Are you sure you want to deactivate functionality  protocol?




Functionality protocol deactivated


It isn’t possible to reason with computers. Just give it what it wants. Enter.


Modified settings not available under present safety protocol


’Deactivate safety protocol.’


Are you sure you want to deactivate safety protocol?


’Who the hell designed this bloody damn interface – Microsoft?’



The Program was designed by [Dr. Gruber] by the help from [Cyberdyne Systems] and [umbrella Corporation]


He sighed, and tried to control his temper and impatience:

’I am sure, that I want to deactivate safety protocol.’


Safety protocol deactivated


Enter. Something happened on the screens. He didn’t bother to read it. Shivering of anticipation, he undressed, laid the uniform – rigorously neatly folded – on a bench and stepped into the sluice.


He didn’t need the neuro-helmet, and wore the breathing mask just for air. The IV was, however, necessary to pump him full of the high dose of viruses, the super-supplements, the reprogramming stuff and the super-gear-thingy. He stepped into Chamber 1. The fluid level rose. The warm, comforting fluid surrounded him. He fell into an analgetic half-dream state, only dimly aware of something happening to his bone structure.


He had a list of those who deserved punishment. The Britse, who wasn’t able to speak his own language correctly, thought he was so tough with all his tattoos and all, chattering all the time like an old shrew, but De Vries was going to make him kneel and then put the thumbs in his eyes, listening to him screaming like a little girl. And then rip out his balls and tear off his willy, and ask who’s tough now? 


And he was going to let Monkey-boy watch. What was British armed forces thinking when they sent a black man to do a white man’s work? De Vries grandparents had moved to the Netherlands from South Africa in 1992, only to find that there were a lot of Arabs in the Netherlands. He distrusted Arabs. And Jews. De Vries had seen a star in the neck chain of Van Gelder, the other Dutch recruit. He distrusted Van Gelder. 


De Vries was going to torture The Britse and his monkey-boy friend before hunting the midgets down. The midgets didn’t deserve to undergo this enhancing treatment, and the turnout of events showed that one of the shrimps hadn’t been affected by The Program, but swooned like a little girl instead. Not like a real man. Not like himself, who had got brawny like a good test subject. Yeah! Really, really brawny. 


He wished he had been able to show his dad what he had become. His dad had been so disappointed when he slapped the neighbourhood children down as a kid. Dad used to chasten him with his belt. The same happened when he had smoked perfectly legal marijuana. And when he only came second in the swimming competition. And Fridays. De Vries had shown him what he was able of, by joining the Armed Forces, making dad proud. 


He was going to crush the heads of the shrimps with his heavy boots. He was going to torture Major Murphy, since he had become an inconvenience…


De Vries slowly awakened from his reveries by the voluptuous feeling of growing muscle fibres. His already superhuman physique had already began to transform even further into unknown anatomical territory. He had liked how his muscles had filled out and increased in meaty firmness the last time, and the same feeling was rushing through his entire body now, even stronger than the last time. Doubling, tripling, quadrupling in intensity, like a wave of energized liquid, bubbling of raising power levels. Raw strength itself was forced into his growing, ever-hardening brawn, at a much higher power-level than the last time. He was almost unable to handle this extremely increased level, and doubted for a moment if he had chosen the right settings on the screen, but, in a mixture of voluntarily abandonment and forced surrender, he let his body and mind go into unrestrained and uninhibited transformation. 


Under the influence of the incredibly high doses of hypertrophic radiation the reprogrammed nano-bots, the high doses of the endocrine formula, and the now extremely modified DNA, he approached the goal desired according to the tampered Field settings.


De Vries roared in pain and lust, but wasn’t aware of it any longer. The heightened levels of testosterone now stoked two primal fires in his mind – sex and aggression – and in his present state he could no longer separate one from another, leaving out all other mental activity. He felt his power to break and crush, dominate and humiliate, revel and wallow in ecstasy increase without limit. His physical form increased in heaviness and might.


An ecstatic feeling of expanding in every direction, of hardness increasing beyond all restrictions, and of an energetic power level beyond all comprehension brought him to an orgasmic state lasting for hours without any relief or outlet.


When he awoke he was lying in a puddle on the Lab floor, surrounded by glass splinters and a few screw nuts, unaware how he had got there. 


The Being looked at its hands, and noticed that the cuts were already healing, and that in an almost visible rate. The Being looked in the direction of the Chambers, and noticed how Chamber 1 had shattered. It was of no concern. The Being was hunting. Hunting such targets as midgets, a monkey boy, a faggot, the tattooed one and the one with many signs on its clothes. The hunt wouldn’t end until the prey had been crushed and destroyed.

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Well, I do hope he didn't get too large to be subdued by the Defenders. He seems like he'd do more harm than good in his frenzied state, especially since there's an alien invasion and all.

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I can't hint about what will happen next.


Writing about the antagonists is always uncomfortable. 

In this chapter I have at least given the readers some pieces

to puzzle together why De Vries became the bully

he has been in the three preceding chapters.

And yes, De Vries seem to be more preoccupied by personal vendettas

than by the alien invasion.

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