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PREFACE This is the most discomforting chapter in the story. The one who doesn't recognize satire, when he sees it, is blind. I also want to thank Arpeejay for a discussion about bodyweight. DISCLAIMER The story takes place in a totalitarian society. Unpleasant political slur of two opposite kinds will occur. Likewise, sexist slur will take place. Violent deaths will be mentioned. If anything of this disturbs you, please be warned. Part one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10522-the-security-squad-part-1/ Part five is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10576-the-security-squad-part-5/ - - - ”And why do you volunteer for this? You know, that in the past all members of the Security Squad were drafted.” I watched you inquisitively. You seemed to feel uncomfortable before my imposing presence. ”I saw the advertisements. You know, the ones, like, BECOME THE PERFECT MAN: JOIN SECURITY SQUAD or LESS OF A MAN, THAN YOU WANT TO BE? JOIN SECURITY SQUAD, and I thought, that I could perhaps give it a chance.” ”I see. Yes, we have had a considerable influx of patriotic volunteers, since the advertisement campaign was launched.” You squirmed. ”I don’t feel very patriotic. Not patriotic enough.” ”Don’t worry soldier. You will be. You will be fine. Your squaddiefication will take place within a few days. It isn’t something dangerous.” I was allowing my thoughts to wander back in time: How Brad and I, Bill and Sergeant Williams had been tested the days after our own squaddiefication a decade earlier. Bill and I managed to lift a 2250 pounds each. Brad managed to lift almost 1800 pounds. - - - I was hanging out at The Patriot with you and Brad. On our way there, we had passed by the usual political posters: ”Is your wife a secret Terrie?” and ”The Security Squad protects YOU!” The Patriot was officially a local ”member-restricted recreation association for members of Security Squad and their friends”. There wasn’t anything untrue about that description, but it didn’t describe the reality either. The walls were painted in black. Flags and recruitment posters hang on the walls. Sixty percent of the Security Squad’s personnel never frequented The Patriot, which could be a surprise for those, who only knew the establishment from its official description. When you and I entered the building, we had been met by the mixed scents of cigar smoke, beer, male sweat, anti-perspirants, moth repellents and leather. Brad and I towered over you, and I felt protective. You were so young. Comparatively small. Like I had been before my squaddiefication. Recently transferred to the non-enhanced segment of the Security Squad by the enlistment authority. Like Brad and me, you were dressed in the everyday wear of the Security Squad: Black t-shirt or tank top, black woolen army sweater, glossy cargo trousers of black leather (with a belt buckle carrying the crest of the Security Squad), heavy boots, patrol cap and a black bomber jacket. We could have frequented the place in civil attire, but we knew what the squad-fans wanted. Our arrival was met with approving cheers by the ”friends of the Security Squad”. ”Oh look, Chad! They brought a Squaddie-pup! He hasn’t been squaddiefied, yet!” I whispered to you: ”I told you, that you would become popular. Handle it wisely. Don’t let anyone beg you into something you aren’t comfortable with. They are the fans. You are in command. Remember that.” You nodded. Brad towered over you protectively. At 7’6” and 450 lbs he was a living embodiment of what it meant to belong to the Security Squad. Some of the recruitment posters were actually based on him. ”When the Lord Protector signed the Immoral Entertainment Decree and the Indecent Behaviour Decree eighteen years ago, there was initially some hesitation and uncertainty over how they were supposed to be interpreted. Two talkshows on TV were closed down, since they were known of making fun of The Leader. There were some discussion coming from The Leader’s religious backers about closing bodybuilding competitions, beauty pageants and wrestling, but the nationalist backers of The Leader thought there could be a patriotic value in those competitions, so they were retained. I have heard, that some un-patriotic scum fled our country and now compete for other countries, which is a disgrace. Oh, thank you Eric.” Eric, the bartender, had placed three pints of beer in front of us. He knew what we preferred. In several ways. Several other Squaddies — both squaddified ones and non-enhanced ones — stood or sat in other corners of The Patriot, but the major share of the patrons were squad-fans. The squad-fans came in all shapes: Short and tall, thin, overweight and muscular, but they all preferred a decidedly masculine style. All kept their hair short (in different ways). It was in rather general use among squad-fans to sport flags and other patriotic patches on their jackets. The jackets came in several styles: Denim jackets, bomber jackets in synthetic fibres, leather jackets — especially biker style jackets. Some of the squad-fans rode motorbikes, and kept old-fashioned biker style alive. ”Since what was called ’propaganda promoting a gay lifestyle’ was forbidden, there was an abrupt end to Pride events, and gay pubs were closed. The Lord Protector decided to turn existing same-sex marriages into civil unions, but he resisted any suggestions to abolish civil unions. His military advisors adviced him to not re-instate the don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. Where you grew up, it was probably harsh to be fond of other lads, but, as you see, that is not the entire truth about our country. I’m happy to bring you here.” ”It is a relief after what I went through. This place feel unreal.” You looked at some old Security Squad memorabilia, and some black and white reproductions of Tom of Finland art. The convsersations in the room were rather loud. Drunk laughs from one of the corners. One of the squad-fans approached us. He was a buzzcut bloke in his mid-30s, and dressed in jeans, boots and a squad-sweater replica. ”Permission to speak, Sergeant.” ”Permission granted, civilian.” He gave the impression of usually cultivating a rather cocky demeanour in other surroundings, but, when speaking to us three, he behaved slightly shyly. ”Just exactly is squaddification? The results are, eh, very impressive.” ”Your first visit to The Patriot, mate? That squaddiefication exist isn’t a secret: It is obvious for everyone. But exactly how squaddiefication is done is classified information, I’m afraid.” ”Oh. Sorry for asking. I’m a great fan of Squads on Patriot Channel.” Squads was a reality series about life in the Security Squad. I had watched episode one and two of the first season, but swiftly dropped the habit. The content was extremely edited, and didn’t give an accurate impression about everyday life in the Squad. ”I would guess, that you’re not alone on that account in this crowd. Have you had time to discuss with other fans here?” ”Some. It’s new to me, all of this.” ”Don’t worry, civilian. You are among friends here.” More cheers. I looked in the direction of the entrance, in order to find out why. ”Hello Bill! How is the night going?” ”Awesome Joe. I have spent all night at Beer Burger Bar, and already shagged three squad-hags.” I turned to you. ”You see, my friend, Sergeant Tannen here, is into the vagina business.” I turned to Bill again. His 600 lbs brawn to his 6’6” height couldn’t fail to attract most of the eyes in the room. ”Three? Really? Isn’t it time for you to settle down with kettle and lids, at your age?” ”I don’t disagree with your lifestyle, and you don’t disagree with mine. Isn’t that a deal?” I turned to you again. ”Now you wonder, perhaps, what a confirmed straight guy like Bill is doing here…” You nodded shyly, looking at Bill’s bull-god physique. ”But we have a saying in the Squad. Perhaps you haven’t heard it, yet. The difference between a straight Squaddie and a bi-curious Squaddie is three pints of beer.” Bill roared of laughter. So did some of the squad-fans, who had overheard our conversation. A massive leather-clad biker had approached us. For a non-squaddified man, he was certainly impressive, and a life dedicated to working out was required to carry his outfit the way he did. I was proud of you, when I noticed that your gaze didn’t flicker. ”Please Sergeant, may I speak to the Squaddie-pup?”, the biker asked me. I acted the way he expected. ”Permission granted, civilian. Treat him well. Otherwise, I and Sergeant Smith here have to punish you.” The biker shuddered, but perhaps not purely out of fear. ”When will you become squaddified, Sir”, he asked you. ”In two days. Why do you ask, civilian?” ”I would be honoured if you remembered me during and after your squaddification. Would you do that? My name is Chad.” ”Perhaps I will”, you answered, one part confident, one part acting. ”Do you allow me to make myself worthy of remembering? It would be an honour to make you happy, Sir.” ”I’m sure, that you know what to do, civilian. I’m a squaddie-pup. I am superior.” I could detect a small trace of insecurity in your voice. It would be erased in two days, I reflected. But the squad-fan didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. To be in the presence of me, Brad and you made his day. He began to unbutton your fly. You leaned backwards against the desk, your leather clad legs wide apart, and let the muscular biker become your willing slave. More drunk cheering from a corner. It seemed to make Bill horny again, and he had definitely bucketed down more than three pints this evening. He had found a willing admirerer, too: A bodybuilder type dressed in army fashion, having loop screws in his earlobes. Absent-mindedly I noticed a short heap of flyers. ”The Security Squad needs YOU! Ever considered serving your country?” The The Patriot franchise had been a success as a recruitment ground for the Squad. I supposed that the level of success, in that regard, silenced any doubts some of The Leader’s advisors could have had in other respects, but what would they expect, when they removed all inhibations from a man? - - - It was two days later. I stood between the Zythronic racks, wearing the helmet. Initially, the four of us, who were the original new breed of improved soldiers, used to take turns inside the growth chamber. Later, our group of expert Improvers had been expanded into twelve members. It was my turn, and I liked the job. The twelve of us Improvers reach some small improvements every time, even if the pace of change has slowed down very much. The initial transformation is always the most dramatic, and there is seldom much to add or change, but it felt good to be in the chamber again, exposed to the Zythronic Field, the Vril Power and the two other forms of radiation. This way, the twelve Improvers always were slightly bigger, slightly stronger, slightly faster, slightly better than the recently changed squaddies, and they treated us with respect. The respect we deserve. I watched you: A Potential Domestic Terrorist. We used to say PDT, but the civilians shortened it into Domestic Terrorist, and were very grateful for our work on hunting you down, increasing the security for normal, decent people. We had improved the processing routines, and moved the chairs into the growth chamber. You sat in your chair, and the arms of your chair ended with metallic knobs connected to the Zythronic Racks. You were dressed in your orange-coloured prison-dress, your legs fastened to the legs of the chair, and your wrists strapped to the arms of the chair. ”Are you going to execute me?” ”You are mistaken. This is not an electrical chair.” ”What is it then, you bloody Fascist?” ”Watch your mouth.” ”It’s not like you haven’t abused me. Physically. Verbally.” ”Verbal abuse is more common in the Police Force. We don’t have the habit of calling you Liberal scum, even if you are. As for physical abuse — some prisoners need to be disciplined, but not to the degree, that they would no longer recover. Our off-shore prisoner camps are a valuable asset to the Security Squad.” ”An asset?” You looked like you couldn’t believe what you heard. ”You believe in a cause. That is honourable, even if you are misguided. Men with principles, like yourself, would hold equally firm convictions, if they were patriots. Even defend their convictions, by taking up arms.” ”You may lock me in, but you are not able to change my mind.” ”Let us see about that.” No reason to slow it down or hold back. The green infusion was now administerable by a rather quick injection, and all three biochemical formulas could be administered by the chair. Perhaps better to ease any pain away. Our purpose was not to torture you, but turn you into a weapon: Into one of us, so I let the Zythronic Field trickle through your palms into your body at a modest 8% level. ”Ummmm. What’s that? Ummmmmm. What’s happening?” I didn’t answer. I let the robotic arms of the chair administer the chemicals. Then the wet electrodes lowered themselves to each of your temples. They always scream. Afraid of losing themselves, I suppose. It is true to a certain extent. Memories fade or disappear, but deep-seated personality traits do not die, nor do instincts and urges. I do not remember my own conditioning. It is just a black hole in my memory. When I ask other Squad-members about it, they tell me the same. We do not remember the conditioning. I guess you will forget this pain, as all the others have done. As we all have done. I warmed the radiation emittors under the floor up. Your chair was lit up from the floor, and bathed in a purple light. We had, by time, found, that doing it this way increased the conditioning. ”No, I…” Your mind was surprisingly resilient. I increased the Zythronic Field to 10% and increased the radiation from below. ”No, uh… uh… nnnnnnn” You struggled in the chair. I could notice the physical effects of the treatment, since you began to fill out your prison dress. 12.5% perhaps? ”Mmmmmmm, oh, um, mmmmmm” Close now. After having done this multiple times, I had learned to guide this process carefully, and the helmet helped me to do it intuitively. The sound of your voice changed: The tone of fear turned into the tone of revelling. Look at that neck of yours! You liked this. I could see it on your face. And your hands were becoming larger. And covered with veins. ”Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I comply. Yes, I obey. Oh YES! Fucking YES! Sir! More! Give this patriot MORE!” I was so happy to reward you with what you asked for. And this was just the Preparatory Phase. I was going to process you and the other two, later in the afternoon. - - - I looked through the list. The one who volunteered because the appeal to his vanity and insecurity. The pup who was sent here by the enlistment authority, and found a haven from his repressive upbringing. The one who was successfully re-programmed from terrorism to patriotism. The usual fare. As always, I was proud to squaddiefy you and the other two subjects. There would be no use of destroying expensive uniforms, as had happened the first time. All three of you were dressed in elastic mini-shorts, and nothing else. The Preparatory Phase had had its effect on you. You all looked fit and vein-covered, and your eyes had that familiar dim gaze. ”Soldiers! This is the best day in your lives! You will grow into your country’s finest defenders: The defenders of Improved Democracy. Unlike the inefficient democracy of other nations, slowed down by debates and never-ending official reports, our Improved Democracy implement decisions immediately, because the Lord Protector is given that executive and legislative power. ”Perhaps you watched telly a few days ago, the Prime Minister of Ruritania demanding: ”Mr. Lord Protector, tear down this wall!” But we know the truth: Our Anti-Terroristic Protective Wall protects us against terrorism. Our Anti-Terroristic Protective Wall protects us against unwanted foreign workers, who rob indigenous workers of their jobs. Our Anti-Terroristic Protective Wall protects us against killer clowns. We are the greatest country in the world, and you are the best of the best: You dedicate your lives to protect our liberty. I am proud of you, soldiers. Right now you are non-enhanced Squad members. Within a few hours, you will be full-grown Squaddies. Do you want to improve yourself for your country?” ”SIR! YES, SIR!” ”Then take your stations.” You grabbed your Zythronic racks, like the other two. I knew how the different bio-chimcal formulas were pumping in your blood from the Preparatory Phase. They just needed some more encouragement. I concentrated on the Zythronic Power. It began to stream. You and the other two were silent for a few seconds, but then began to moan of pleasure. I increased the intensity. By the help of the helmet, I could sense the Zythronic Power, and I knew, that the moment I awakened the Vril Power, I would be able to sense your feelings, shape your phiscal forms according to my will and share the pleasure you felt. I increased the intensity further. 65%. You were ready for the Power of Vril. I awakened my own Vril Power, activated the cannons, and my mind reached deep into your own, and caused your slumbering Vril Power to awake. Awake. Surge. Erupt. Consume you. And the Vril cannons bombarding your responsive muscle tissue. A shimmer of gold and bronze surrounded us, letting the Muscle Beast out. Letting the Power Being out. We were all connected now. I could sense your feeling of strength, of power, of confidence, of abandon, of delight and pleasure… Each of you reacted to the treatment in your own particular ways. ”So good. Fucking unreal. Like being Compton. Like being McCarver. Look at these! So unbelievable. Like being Agent Venom. Uhnnnn. Like being Bane. Can’t believe it. Uh, uh! Like fucking becoming The Hulk. Oh! Yes! The power! Can’t believe it! Uhnnn.” ”Oh, yes! Pump me full of it! Unit want more! This patriot can take more! Will crush all resistance. Will crush all threats. Demolish. Pulverize. Able to do that, now. The strenght! So much! Never too much! So free. Not responsible for anything. Just obeying orders. Keep it going!” ”Unbelievable… So good! Oh. Much! Couldn’t have dreamed… Nnnnn. Growing with my brothers… Defend. Protect. Uhnnnnn… No squad-fan any longer… No squaddie-pup any longer… Yes! YES! Squaddiefy me! SQUADDIEFY ME! Yes! Can’t believe it! This! And this! And the power! And the strength! And, uhnnnn… So hard. Uncrushable… Don’t hold back, Sergeant! Give me more! Want it… Crave it… MORE! YES! RAW, BRUTAL, NNNNNNNNNN! SQUADDIE POWER!” I knew how intoxicating it was. At my mere thought, the room bathed in purple, and, at another one, it was exposed to the relentless empowering influence of a blue shimmer. After the Preparatory Phase you had all looked like contestants in Men’s Physique, but, now, your well-defined abs turned into six hemispheric cannonballs of steel. Your shoulders became like bowling balls. Your pecs became like basket balls of warm, uncrushable flesh. Your thighs swelled and bulged into pillars able to carry 1500 pounds or more. Your waists were narrower than your thighs. Your calves looked like rugby balls. Your necks grew in power, your jugular vein pulsing under the relentless pressure of the muscle-building and enhancing forces. 90% 92.5% 95%. The machine working at an efficiency of 97.5%. I knew I had to concentrate on my conception of perfect masculinity, and the helmet would interpret my brainwaves into reality. Inside this chamber, my will was law. I held the all-powerful control of your bodies and minds. The feeling was more than exhilarating. I was able to form my brothers in arms into the fighting machines I wanted them to be, and they wanted to become. Perfect masculinity… Uhnnn. Felt good for the Improver, too. I wasn’t allowed to lose control now. Uhnnn. Despite it was tempting to just let the machine decide… Uhnnn. No, I was in charge. I am The Improver today, and I have to improve you. Yes! Join me, squaddies! Become… Oh! Yes! Become… specimens of perfect masculinity. Specimens of perfect virility. Like… Like Brad. Oh fuck! The chamber convulsed in intangible flames of gold and bronze, blue and purple, when you all absorbed the highest power level, developed your personal physical optimum and reached perfection. - - - There were a handful of things to do by routine. Blood pressure. Blood samples. Urine samples. You were given some time for shower. You received uniforms in your new sizes, and you were, of course, a sight for gods to dream of. Absent-mindedly, I was thinking about what the future had in reserve for you. As usual, the first kill had to happen shortly after squaddiefication. We didn’t want any inhibations to return. It would be inefficient for the needs of the country. I remembered my own first mission. We hd to suppress a potential terrorist threat. We stormed the building in the middle of the night. All domestic terrorists were sleeping. One of the women looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen her before. I only dimly remember her chestnut-coloured hair, her green eyes and a dimple in her chin, because she cried out: ”Joe, it’s me. Why are you doing this?” It was very strange. How did she know my name? I shot the Terrie bitch. The mission was a disappointment, since no weapons were found in the terrorist base. Soon our new squaddies would be sent on similar missions. - - - I returned home. Brad had been busy cooking. ”Lot of paperwork, today?”, I asked. ”Yes. And you must have supervised a squaddiefication. I can see, that your traps are slightly larger than before”, he answered. ”They are?” ”I’m not blind, Joe. I can’t wait to lay my hands on those traps of your’s.” We finished our chicken and rice rather quickly, and decided to eat our apple-and-ginger pie later. We finished in the oversized sofa. Brad gave my traps a massage. The TV was on. The News reported that The Lord Protector had attended the inauguration of a statue of Berzelius Windrip. Then followed a re-run of the 2031 remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. We had seen it before, and switched the TV off. I reclined in the sofa, laying on my side. Brad’s back rested on my chest, and I let my right arm protect him. It felt strange, but it felt good. Brad was the most perfect man I knew, but I was heavier than him. At 7 feet and 500 lbs, I was able to lift him and carry him, if I wanted to. I let my lips touch his gold-coloured buzzcut, and whispered: ”I am inspecting the test subject.” I let my hand massage Brad’s right pec through the fabric of his sweater. He let out a whimpering sound, rose and removed his sweater and his shirt. He turned, and removed my shirt. We returned to the sofa, Brad’s back on my chest. I nibbled on his silky ear, and let my hand return to his right pec. With a playful voice, I whispered: ”As I said, I am inspecting the test subject.” I returned to my everyday voice: ”Oh. And by the way. Two of todays new squaddies looked strangely similar to you, Brad.” ”They always do, Joe, when you are the Improver of the day. Unless you feel especially protective of them. Two, you say? I though there were three scheduled for today?” ”There was. Do you remember the squaddie-pup we brought to The Patriot two days ago? He’s the one. I felt protective of him. He reminded me of myself before.” ”Let me guess…” ”Don’t say it. Yes, he became massive like myself. He needed to put some flesh on the bones, don’t you think?” Brad didn’t answer, but he pressed his naked back harder to my chest. It felt good. I knew what Brad liked, so I had kept my leather trousers and boots on, just as he had. I could feel the ravines and ridges of his back towards my powerfully brawny pecs. I let my hand slid to his abs, and continued to whisper: ”I am inspecting the test subject’s abdomen. A hard wall of bricks, nay: steel, is covering his lower torso.” Brad shivered, and I could hear how his breathing became heavier. I swallowed. ”The test subject is still growing and transforming. He is turning into a monster! A hero-monster full of hard, masculine muscle. Bigger than anything I have seen. Bigger than anything I could imagine!” I let my hand slide lower, and I could feel his rod throbbing inside the black leather. I fingered and pressed teasingly. He moaned. I rose, my left knee still on the sofa behind Brad’s back, my right leg standing on the floor, his body between my powerful leather-clad thighs. ”But there is a squaddie who is heavier than the test-subject.” I gave his shoulder a friendly clench, before I removed my knee from the sofa, stood with my legs wide apart in front of him, and let him watch my presence. Then, I bent my knees, grabbed Brad, and held him: One arm under his leather-clad bum, another one behind his naked back. I let my lips nuzzle his buzzcut again. ”And that is Sergeant Wilson.” Playfully, I used him as a barbell three or four times, and then returned to my ordinary way of carrying him. Brad moaned in his deep voice and shuddered in delight, when his behemothic partner carried his 450 lbs frame into our bedroom, the way as usual. I smiled. I loved to be a squaddie.

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Last chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10551-the-security-squad-part-4/ - - - It was several minutes later, and this individual unit of our Squad must have been released from the chair. This individual … I … was focused on my duty. In order to become useful for my country, Squad and sub-unit I had to improve myself. As in a dream, I stepped in file behind Bill, and with Sergeant Williams behind me. Bill entered the membrane, then I. We reached each of our stations at the same time, and stood for a moment between the active metal racks of our own stations, our legs broad apart, our boots firmly on the ground. My racks stood opposite Brad’s station, so I could see him well. I had Bill on my right. He faced Sergeant Williams on my left, closest to the membrane. We could feel and hear how the racks vibrated and hummed of power. All three of us grabbed our racks at the same moment, eagerly joining Brad in the enhancing process, and became living Zythronic conductors. The power hit me. The name of the Preparatory Phase was apt: It was just a preparation for the REAL power levels. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a moan, when I felt how the power current flowed through me, causing my muscles to tense and relax, tense and relax in an upward-spiraling wave of energy. ”Increase levels to 65%”, a British voice instructed someone. Just a few seconds later, I could feel the rush of even more power. I felt pumped. More than pumped. All my muscles were engorged in an incredible way. Real growth was occurring at an unimaginable rate. And it happened to my brothers too: Williams, Bill. And Brad. Bill couldn’t control himself: ”Yeah! Fuck, yeah! Make me a fucking beast!” Sergeant Williams wasn’t speaking. He was immersed in the experience, his eyes shut, sweat trickling from his temples and his naked chest, causing his pecs to become shiny. His neck swelled into a bullneck, and, unlike Brad and me, his waist didn’t shrink noticeably. There had always been something ox-like about his shape, but that aspect was now enhanced and intensified, and it looked that Bill was evolving in that direction, too. Brad welcomed the increased power levels, shouting with his, now significantly deeper, voice: ”Good! So good! Don’t stop it! Keep going, keep going! Uhnnn… YES! More! Give me fucking more! Don’t hold back! I can take it!” He had always had a narrow waist, broad shoulders and a barrel-chest, but these traits were now enhanced in a way I couldn’t describe. I could feel the machine relentlessly work on myself, too — shaping me, making me harder, more defined. My abs felt like the proverbial cobblestones. My back like a brickwall. My former fragile self disappearing in the mindless power blaze, and a stronger, heavy, pain-resilient and confident me emerging out if its energetic forge. ”Increase levels to 75%”. ”Increasing levels to 75%, Sir!” A lesser man would now, undoubtedly, have felt excruciating growth pains, but the four of us had three bio-chemical formulas synergetically pumping in our bloodstreams, and the gradual rise of Zythronic power had raised our resilience to pain. Instead of pain, I felt a rush of pump, pleasure and power, when the energy levels increased and hit me. My hands instinctively cling and grabbed to the conductible racks, not letting any little bolt or spark of power escape my power-hungry brawn. Pump. Pleasure. Power. ”Zey vould now haf ze stamina to bear ze brunt of ze Vril Power. Be ready to avake ze Vril Power within ze test subjects. From vhat I gather, ze mesomorph is likely to handle it best, but I am eager to see its effect on ze ectomorph and ze two endomorphs, too. Ve didn’t have any opportunity to experiment on zeir bodytypes in ze past.” ”Warming up the Vril cannons, Herr Doktor Professor!” ”I hope for your soul and conscience, that you are right this time, Helmut. My heart would break if something happened to these fine boys. For heavens sake, we don’t even know what Vril really is!” Another sort of humming sound began to fill the chamber. Deeper. Like a heartbeat in a far off, long-forgotten, super-nova. Like a heartbeat in the depths of Earth. Like a heartbeat in the middle of my soul. Then, I shut my eyes, and was overwhelmed by black lightning in my mind, stars exploding in violet fire, the primordial song of Nature, and the feeling of something happening in my solar plexus and immeadiately under my navel. A force, that had slumbered inside me, unknown, and unbeware of its own existence, stirred in its sleep, increased in intensity and warmed me up. A sphere of unimaginable force formed between my solar plexus and my navel, then expanded in every direction, affecting my heart, my loins and dick, my legs, chest and back, my shoulders, my arms, hands and traps, my neck and my head. An otherworldly fire burnt in me. Changed me. It felt like I became taller. I had always been short. I grew taller! Like Brad! Like Brad? I opened my eyes. Radiation cannons hanging from the ceiling were emitting crackling bolts and currents of unholy power at each of us four — targets unable to resist, even if we had wanted to. But we didn’t want to resist. Bill was writhing in anabolic bliss, his hands crampingly clenching the Zythronic racks (as did the hands of us all). The heavy presence of Sergeant Williams stood erect and imposing, with his boot-clad feet heavily on the floor. Consumed by the Vril Power, I couldn’t focus, but absent-mindedly noticed, that the floor under Sergeant William’s conductible rack was strewn with unlit dark lenses. I then absent-mindedly noticed, that the same was true about the floor under Bill’s station and Brad’s. Brad! A ghostly shimmer in bronze and gold surrounded him, as it did surround us others, and his skin tone changed into a tan of the same hue as the shimmer, enhancing his mucle definition. He was growing taller — and that at a visible rate. His abs protruded with deep valleys between them, in a way never seen on another man, and his iliac furrow was second to none. His chest had always been impressive, but now it consisted of powerful, hard and well-defined slabs, which pulsated under the combined hypertrophic effect of the Zythronic Field, the Vril Power and the three formulas in our bloodstreams. ”Lyet us now see, which effect, if any, the completyon of Procedyure 59 will have on the specimens. The addyition of nano-technology will have removed the drawbacks from the old version”, an unknown voice said in an Eastern European accent. The Texan answered: ”Better let Procedure 59 go in tandem with Project Atlas. We don’t know how a one-sided treatment would affect the sensitive balance between the two biochemical formulas. And it is better to let the nano-formula work together with the DNA-alteration.” ”Very well”, a comparatively young voice said. ”Warming up both radiation-emittors.” The machine had become a chorus now. Four different contraptions worked in symphony, for the common purpose of transforming me and my brothers into something more than human. The dark optical lenses in the floor, which I had wondered about in a never finished thought, now lit up in an increasingly purple light, and, meanwhile, a blue light, of the same colour as a tanning bed’s, rained down on us from the ceiling, increasing its intensity. The chamber was filled by a blinding multi-coloured light, bathing us all in incomprehensible power. I was no longer conscious about my whereabouts, I just had a very intense and peasurable feeling of expansion. I felt weightless and heavy, as the Earth itself. I was giving myself to this programme. Whatever doubts I could have had in the past were leaving me. I was rid of hesitation. I was now unable to feel fear. The safety for my Squad was my first concern. The security of my country and my Lord Protector was my ultimate concern. I was ready to perform my duty, to protect my brothers in arms, to defend my country against all domestic and foreign enemies — especially domestic. I felt how all inhibations were removed. I was ready to harm or kill an opponent, if necessary, and I would never question a given order. Insubordination is a disgrace. Insubordination is not an option. In… In… What was that word again? I am an obedient individual unit of this Squad, programmed for duty and obedience. Yeah. A real patriot. Serving the greatest leader we ever had. Serving the greatest country on Earth. We have never had it so good. Defend. Yeah. Protect. Defend and protect. Oh, yes! Feeling of expansion. Weightless and heavy. Inhibations removed. So horny. Wanted to snog Brad, my Sergeant. ”What does the readings say?” ”They are all approaching 7 feet, Sir, but their weight-curves behaves according to their individual constitutions and conditions. The mesomorph now weighs 484 lbs. The circumference of his chest is now 90 inches, and his waist 45 inches. His arms 39 inches and his quads 48 inches. As for the others…” I wasn’t able to hear my own meaasurements. The intensity of the power currents were too much, and I was lost in the feeling of unfathomable growth. ”Awaiting further instructions.” ”Keep everything at the present levels, for now.” ”Gentlemen, as you can see we have succeeded: Four separate enhancement projects, that once caused extraordinary results, while still separate, have today been succesfully combined, in order to reach an even higher level of perfection.” ”I very much doubt, that we can proceed any further, by manually controlling the processes from here. Do you think it is time, to test the helmet?” ”You know what I think. Why risk to spoil a succesful experiment with a not enough tested brainwave-coordinator?” ”I say: Let us give the brainwave-helmet a try. At this moment the specimens alone knows how much they could endure, and the fine-tuning is better left to someone, who experience the procedure himself.” ”I am still against it. It is too early.” ”Let’s vote then.” ”Five against two. It is decided then. One of them have to pick the helmet up, and use it.” ”Which one?” ”Does it matter? Pick anyone.” ”I vould vote for ze mesomorph. Look how good he has reaced to the treatment!” ”Oh it doesn’t matter. The mesomorph then.” ”Sergeant Smith? Sergeant Smith, do you hear me?” I could hear the deep voice of my friend Brad. His voice was deeper now. ”Sir, yes Sir!” ”Do you see a helmet on the floor in the growth chamber? A high-tech helmet, belonging to the equipment?” ”Oh. Yes. Aaahrrrgh. Y-yes, I see it.” ”Do you feel all right?” ”Sir? All right? I feel more than… Oh! Uhmmmm… Fuck, yes! Sorry, Sir. Yes, I feel more than all right.” ”Good to hear. Do you think, that you could pick the helmet up, and wear it?” ”Is that an order, Sir?” ”Yes. Pick it up, and wear it. You will be able to control and co-ordinate the processes that affect you and your three mates of this sub-unit. Use your discernment, and improve yourself and your team-mates as much as you deem possible and desirable.” ”Sir! The order will be executed! Improve according to possibility and desireability!” The power flickered for a moment. Then it increased in a much more subtle and seamless way than before. Something else guided the processes, than before — something able to understand the power and the growth intimately. And that something was my friend Brad, my Sergeant. Williams, Bill and myself had all surrendered to what Brad deemed possible to achieve and desireable to achive, and we were clay in the hands of a potter, molten iron at the will of a caster, heated iron before the hammer of an all-powerful smith eager to forge the perfect weapon. The hair on my forearms bristled, and it felt like a sensual, immaterial fluid, both cold and hot at the same time, ran from the backside of my head down on my entire body. I felt how the beams, rays and power currents merged into something unknown, and I felt how an even more fierce and irresistible wave of Vril Power erupted within me, and I was consumed by its ecstatic embrace. Brad stood at his station, his trousers bursting at the seams, revealing calves bigger than rugby balls (but still growing), tree trunk hamstrings and striated quads. Black leather lay in fragments on the floor under him, but what was left of his trousers formed tight, black and glossy shorts around his lower waist, glutes and groin. The golden-bronze hue of his upper body and naked legs contrasted with the shiny black of his shorts and boots. He was a living embodiment of masculinity beyond all restrictions and limitations, and I knew, that the same was true about myself and the other two. The field around him intensified ever more at the will, and at the urge to grow, of the Sergeant we all wanted to serve and obey, who was my best friend. ”The Zythronic Field is approaching 90%!” ”Shut it down! Levels this high are unaccounted for. We are now in unknown territory.” ”I vant to know ze upper limits of zis programme. Vait anozer minute!” ”90% and rising. Vril Power at 85% and increasing!” ”92.5% and rising. Vril Power at 90%. This is too much!” We shuddered at the impact of the transformation process, but we didn’t want the experiment to be aborted. Not now! ”The generators can’t take it anymore!” The room outside blacked down. The loudspeakers went silent. All available energy was directed to the growth chamber, and Brad’s face was glowing by a lustful and triumphant facial expression. His entire physique was emitting lights. He closed his eyes and moaned, louder and louder. His head arched backwards. ”IMPROVE!”, Brad bellowed. In the next moment, ineffable power currents crackled from his eyes, and hit Williams and Bill, who convulsed and roared under the impact. A similar power current was emitted from Brad’s leather-clad groin and hit mine. I BECAME strength itself. I don’t know what I shouted or which noises I might have emitted. I felt like I could crush rocks and steel with my bare hands, and my back felt like a mountain of brawn. I became dimly aware of movement. With an unfathomable amount of will-power, Brad had let go of his Zythronic rack, and was moving into the middle of the chamber. When he reached the centre of the chamber, I had a short respite to recuperate, and I noticed, that the same was true about Williams and Bill. The lenses, above and below the station Brad had left, went out, which allowed the lenses in the middle of the chamber to intensify. All Vril cannons now turned, so that they pointed in one and the same direction, the cones of light converging in one single point: The centre were Brad stood, eagerly awaiting their brutal impact. And when they hit him, his obscenely engorged muscle mass erupted in further hypertrophy. For a moment, he staggered under the amount of energy, but then recovered his balance, now with a more unwavering and confident stance than ever before. He arched back, lifted his arms and did a double biceps, roaring: ”IMPROVE!” The Vril cannons turned, as they would have a life of their own, back to their original stations, with one exception. The cannons, which had originally been focussed on Brad’s station, were now hitting him in his back. The lenses, at the station Brad had left, were still unlit, and the unused power rushed to the three remaining stations, sending me and the others into heightened anabolic frenzy. ”Yes! More!”, Bill shouted. Sergeant Smith… Brad… approached me. His godlike shape stood for a moment before me, his back bombarded by the Vril cannons (also affecting me, when the Vril Rays continued through him into me) and his brawn sharing the rush of rays bathing us from above and below. He looked me into my eyes, and said: ”I have told you before. I feel proud to grow you. I love to grow you. And now I am able to do it without limits. There is no ’too much’. I want more. I want to be extreme. I want you to be extreme. Join me, Joe. Join me.” Without further ado, he sunk on his knees before me, and slowly began to unbutton the fly of my black leather shorts. One button. Two. Three. Leaving the uppermost one intact behind the belt. He reached out his big paw and released my wildly pulsating rod. I didn’t believe what happened. The next moment, my Sergeant, who was my best friend, had swallowed my rod and placed his hands on my leather-clad glutes. Zythronic Power flowed through me at insane levels, and through me into Brad. Vril cannons, intended to expose two separate stations, now relentlessly irradiated one single station, where I stood, with my powerful legs wide apart, and with an ever growing titanic friend between my legs, robbing me of the last traces of coherence. I couldn’t resist. I let go. And while Brad sucked me off, he transformed myself and himself. ”Oh, Sarge. Oh, Brad. I’m, oh! So beyond all… Oh! What’s happening?” My thews throbbed of strength. My beef became uncrushable. My shoulders and chest must have expanded in a behemothic way, but I was lost in bliss and ecstacy. My mind was lost in unwavering loyalty to my country, my Leader and my Sergeant (who is my friend Brad). And my friend Brad forcefully crammed hitherto unknown levels of power into me. ”Oh. Uhnn. Real ace. So good. So much. So much. So.. Uhnnn. No! NO! IT’S TOO MUCH! I can’t bear it!” A real squaddie obey orders. Sarge has given an order. Improve. There is no ’too much’. Sarge… Brad want me to be extreme. He want me to join him. A real squaddie obey orders. It isn’t something dangerous. Brutally good. Can’t bear it, can’t handle all this! But I will, because a real squaddie obey orders. Even if it kills me, I will die feeling levels of strength no man has experienced before me. And if I survive, I will be a weaponised man. A soldier of a sort the world has never seen before. Together with my brothers. Together with Brad. ”Oh! Oh! Oh, yes! IMPROVE! Want more! Crave strength! MORE! Yes! Increase! Yes! Overwhelm me, Brad! Raw! Pure! Brutal! Nnnn. Overwhelm me! What are you doing to me? What are you making me into? It’s too much! Never too much! Never too much! Increase! Enhance! POWER!” I was Strength. I was Power. I was raw, primitive, brutal Masculinity. I was Virility unbound, free to roam the world. I was a living thunderstorm. I was a powerhouse. I was a living nuclear explosion. I was what Brad wanted me to be. During the final minutes of the growth process, I was lost in mindless ecstasy. Moans, grunts, roars and bellows were heard, accompanied by the terrifying noise of crackling power. Since the entire chamber was connected to Brad’s brainwaves, when he reached orgasm, so did the chamber and all the test-subjects within. - - - Next chapter is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10744-the-security-squad-part-six/

Last chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10530-the-security-squad-part-3/ The Security Squad: Part 4 It was dark. No, it was just what Brad called chiaroscuro. And warm and pleasant. Like I floated in emptiness. With Brad. Friend. Close. But then Brad's face melted and became the face of Bill. "I told you, I would give you hell, Joe". An unfamiliar German voice said: "Hell. Hölle." And then the person who was Brad or Bill catched fire, and he grabbed me and carried me, and I catched fire. And we screamed. I screamed. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. And then I woke up. It was just a nightmare. I felt dizzy. But rather warm and pleasant. Where? And then I remembered the chaotic memory fragments: Sergeant Williams carrying me into the room with the IVs. Plastic bags containing the dangerous-looking green liquid hang there, ready to flow into the veins of defenceless and unknowing test subjects. But I knew. I had read the files. The potentially deadly consequences. And the strange assertive veiny vigour Brad had exuberated in the gym. How I struggled. A glimpse of a white coat. A sting. Blackness. I looked up in the ceiling. I felt something strange in my arm. The bag with green liquid was just emptying its last content into me. There was no return. It already flowed in my system. I felt warm. Warm and horny. I was no longer just a recruit to the Squad. I was a test subject. One of the test subjects. One of the chosen few. Chosen together with Brad. I didn't want to feel pleased by that, but there was something inside me, that felt pleased with that. I felt like I could lift... lift heavy things. Like rocks. One of the anonymous medics in his late 30s or early 40s checked me. "Let me remove that drip, Private Wilson. You don't need it any longer." It was removed before I was able to answer, and a plaster was fastened over the vein. Veins. "How do you feel?" He checked my blood pressure. "I feel warm." "That happens sometimes. It happened to your friend, Sergeant Smith, too. It isn't something dangerous. Isn't something dangerous. The thought floated through my mind. Wasn't I supposed to be concerned about something? I didn't remember. Something about danger. But the Doctor said, that it isn't something dangerous. Felt good. "I feel good, Doc." "Good to hear that. You are soon going to join your brothers in arms." Brothers in arms. Sounded good. Like a real patriot. Wait. Didn't someone say that before? It felt good. I thought it again: Yeah! LIKE A REAL PATRIOT. I got hard again. It felt good to be a part of the Security Squad. Real men. Real men are not afraid of danger. It isn't something dangerous. The bed had wheels. Doc easily rolled my bed into another chamber. Didn't I know that door? Didn't that look familiar? Laboratory III. Was I supposed to know what that is? There were lots of men in white coats. Many of them were very old and wrinkled. Grey or white hair. Or bald. And big Guards. Yeah. I belonged. Belonged to the same Squad as the big Guards. I wanted to become a big Guard myself one day. Together with Brad. Sleepily I blinked. Sergeant Williams was there. And Brad. Sergeant Smith. Sergeant Smith is Brad. The sergeants were dressed in the same trousers as Bill and I, but unlike us they had uniform shirts. Two strange chairs with technical contrapments stood against a wall, but it was the machine with the chamber, which attracted all the attention. A sort of machine. I reached for a word. I was supposed to know it. A console? And a chamber of glass and steel and some sort of door-thingy. Membrane? And inside the chamber a man. One of my comrades in arms. Private... Private Tannen. Bill. I was supposed to have an opinion about Bill. But he was a brother in arms now. Inside that chamber. Something interesting happened to Bill. He was stripped to the waist. His belly was disappearing. And his cheeks were becoming smaller. Is that normal? He was standing there inside the chamber, between two racks of metal, connected to the chamber. Sparks and bolts were emitted from the rack. And Bill was holding them. So something was conducted into Bill. It isn't something dangerous. His face. Didn't I like his face before? How couldn't I like the face of someone, who was willing to watch my back in combat? Like Brad? Bill looked angelic now. His face in bliss. He moaned something. "Warrior! Yes! Make me into a warrior! I love this feeling!" It sounded nice. It sounded like something I wanted to experience. Why did I feel so sleepy? My friend Brad, who is Sergeant Smith, walked close to me. He spoke to me in a hushed voice. "I'm sorry Joe. I would have prepared you for this. I didn't believe that the stuff would affect me like this. It sounded so good. It sounded like everything I had day-dreams about in the past, but in real life. And then the terrifying accidents happened, and I wanted to cop out, but they had already given me the preparatory treatment. And it IS good. I have never felt like this before, at just the Preparatory Phase. Just imagine what the next Phases could do, if there is no accident. But I thought I could resist it better. I am not sure, what will happen to me in the next phase." "Use the helmet, Brad.", I murmured. "Helmet? Which helmet? What are you talking about?" "You will control and co-ordinate all processes with the helmet. Not them." He frowned, but we were not able to continue our talk. The scientists were discussing the things they were doing. An aloof British voice talked: "As you have all seen, everything needed in Phase One was to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, and prepare the test subjects with a Preparatory Phase of Zythronic Fields, as our notations from the 40s suggested. By that, their stamina would increase, and with increased stamina, they would better endure the awakening of the Vril Power — or so we have reason to believe. This time, we will have one mesomorph test subject, one endomorph test subject and... I see that the ectormorph test subject is awake. Will you please inject him, Mr. Jackson?" Mr. Jackson, an elderly man, who walked like he had served a long time in the Armed Forces, grabbed something that looked like a pen on a metal table, and walked towards me. "Dont worry Private. It will soon be over." He put the pen towards my belly, and pressed. A brief pain, which soon receded. "The two formulas interacted well in the mesomorph test subject and the endomorph test subject. Will you please remove the endomorph from the chamber, Sergeant Smith?" The scientists turned the knobs of metal and plastic on the console, and pressed some buttons. The humming subsided. Bill looked up with a slightly disappointed expression. Brad helped him out of the chamber. When Bill had left the chamber, he walked to me. I was wary. His eyes were unfocused, but to my surprise he shone up in a smile. ”Wilson? Joe. Didn’t know they were going to give you the treatment, too. We are brothers in arms, then, I suppose. Don’t worry, bro. I might have behaved badly in the past, but if the awesome Sergeant Williams and Sergeant Smith want me to watch your back out on a mission, I will. Otherwise the mission could fail, and this Squad never fails. I love how our ranks are filled with more and more patriots. I love this treatment and my Squad. Welcome aboard, bro.” With his eyes still unfocused he surprised me a with heavy and warm hug. "Sergeant Smith, please help Private Wilson inside the chamber." My friend Brad helped me up from the bed. I still felt dizzy, but also energetic. The membrane felt strange. We pressed against it, and then we were inside the chamber. I noticed something on the floor: a helmet fitting the description I had read somewhere at some point in time. I couldn't remember. "That helmet, Brad. Control and co-ordinate." Brad nodded absent-mindedly, like he didn’t seem to listen to what I said. He helped me stand between two of the metal racks. There were several pairs of metal racks, like several men were able to go through the same thing at the same time. Wait! Were they going to do the same thing to me, as they did to Bill? I had almost no fat at all on my body. Wouldn't this be dangerous? Oh. I forgot. It isn't something dangerous. "Grab these racks, Joe. It will feel nice. It did, when they did this to me. It will give you stamina." "Uhu? Whatever you say, Brad. Sorry, Sergeant Smith." Brad smiled. Then he leaned toward me, and whispered: "I love you, Joe.", and left the chamber. A humming began. I wasn't aware of the changes that began to happen simultaneously in my organism. The green infusion and the small injection began to interact inside me. My DNA was rebuilt, my metabolism was rearranged, my hormone levels changed, but I wasn't aware about any of that. The only thing I was aware of was the power current, that flowed into the rack, and I was the conductor, that closed the circuit and let all that power flow through myself -- changing me, permanently and irrevocably. In that moment, the old Joe began to disappear. Something inside me tried to catch my attention: Something about principles, something about danger, but my dizzy mind let it go, and I lost myself in the overwhelming feeling of the transformative power. I had no idea, for how long I had stood there, when the humming subsided. I heard the loudspeakers transmitting sounds from outside: "Sergeant Smith, will you please remove Private Wilson from Preparatory Phase?" Brad was there. He helped me to the membrane and to the room outside. The two younger scientists rose. One of them took a blood sample from me and checked my blood pressure. The other one put two electrodes to Brad’s temples, and checked a graph — then let Brad look into a gadget which looked it would belong at an optician’s. ”I believe Sergeant Smith is in need of further treatment of your’s, Doctor Pushkin.” An elderly man with an Eastern European accent glanced at Sergeant Williams: ”Sergeant Williams. Will you please strap Sergeant Smith to that chair.” Sergeant Williams obeyed without a word. There was a slight flickering in Brad’s eyes, but he allowed Williams to fasten him to one of the chairs close to the wall. The chair was connected to cables and tubes, and had an uncanny resemblance to an electrical chair, but obviously it wasn’t. ”Sergeant Williams, please pull the switch.” When the switch was pulled, Brad tensed, and if his arms hadn’t been restrained, he would probably had fallen out of the chair. His mouth was open, like he was attempting to let out a scream, but no sound appeared. With a silent whirring sound, an injection needle moved robotically, and buried itself in Brad’s cartoid artery, before removing itself. Brad’s eyes were firmly shut. Likewise whirringly, two small metallic arms with moist electrodes lowered themselves 90 degrees, until they firmly touched Brad’s temples. This time, he was able to scream. A horrible scream echoed in the room, as the last traces of my friend Brad, as I had once knewn him, were erased from his soul, just leaving the Sergeant. The Squad Member. The obedient living weapon. He shaked in the chair for ten or fifteen seconds, and the restraints kept him in his seat, but then the shaking receded. Sweat trickled from his brow. The chemicals within his body must have responded to the treatment, because something else was happening. His neck tightened, and the upper buttons of his uniform shirt were no longer able to resist the pressure. The vein-covered, firm and hemispheric flesh, that was his pecs, forced themselves out of his shirt, and his sleeves were no longer able to resist the pressure from his swelling bicepses. Soon, his shirt laid in tatters on the floor Commanded by the scientists, Sergeant Williams released Brad, who stood up erect, his eyes dead, and awaiting orders. His face didn’t express any emotions. ”Let’s give this a test. Sergeant Smith, please remove Private Wilson’s t-shirt.” ”Sir! Yes, sir!” Without further ado, Sergeant Smith helped me remove my black t-shirt. ”Sergeant Smith, please strap Private Wilson to the chair.” There was nothing I could do. Sergeant Smith forced me to sit in the chair, and by his overwhelming strength he fastened the leather straps around my wrists, forced my leather-clad legs broad apart, and strapped them to the legs of the chair. Sergeant Smith looked quizzically at the scientists, but they shook their heads. ”Not yet. Other things first. You are ready for Phase 2.” - - - "Joe! Join me!” The deep voice of my best friend reached out to me from the growth-chamber. I was half-naked, and surrounded by the grey-haired scientists in white lab coats and the Guards in their intimidating and ultra-masculine uniforms. How did I end up in this terrifying situation? The machines connected to the chamber were humming louder now, and the intensity of the Zythronic Field surrounding Brad must have been much greater, than the preparatory treatment Bill, myself (and probably Sergeant Williams) had gone through. Brad stood at one of the stations, clenching the racks as his life depended on it, stripped to his waist, but still wearing his uniform cargo trousers of black and glossy leather and his heavy boots. He was a living conductor for the heighetened Zythronic Field, and his physique was responding to the treatment. His growth was visible, his bulging torso was covered in sweat, and between the moans and grunts he emitted, he tried to say something: ”Joe! Join me!” ”Zythronic racks working at a level of 45%”, one of the scientists said. ”Increase to 50%”, another answered. ”This is the most stable result we have had, yet.” ”Increasing to 50%. The levels now at 47.5% and increasing… Reaching 50%… Now!” ”Why don’t we save some time, and let the ectomorph specimen go through his conditioning?” ”You are right. Private Tannen, please pull the switch of Private Wilson’s chair.” Bill approached. ”You will become one of us, Joe. There is nothing you can do to stop it.” The effect of of the mind-altering medication must have worn off by then. For a few seconds, I remembered all that had happened: The worry for losing Brad, the atrocious experiments, how I had promised Karen to spy on the Security Squad, in the hope to restore democracy, but it would all be lost, if the Squad succeeded in brainwashing me, as they obviously had done to Sergeant Williams, to Bill and to Brad. Facing the risk of the same death as the burned man, facing the risk of the same death as the giant who was shot, and facing the imminent risk of becoming a mind-controlled machine, I panicked in the chair. But it was too late. The next second, Bill turned the switch on. To be continued. - - - Next chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10576-the-security-squad-part-5/

Last chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10523-the-security-squad-part-2/ - - - Life in the Squad was harsh, but it had some benefits. Now, I had time to spend at the gym, and I liked it. Some sort of friendship developed between those of us, whom had arrived at about the same time -- with the exception of Bill. When I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw my reflection in high tech army boots, leather cargo trousers and a black army sweater was a surreal experience: That was no longer myself -- not my old self -- but another Joe. I felt slightly ashamed of, that I liked the way I looked in uniform. I was not going to become one of them. It was after an extra-curricular workout, and rather late. I was changing clothes in the locker room close to the gym, and was dressed only in my pants. The door opened. Closed. "I told you, I was going to make your life a hell, Joe." It was Bill. His bulldog face was drenched in sweat and shiny. The black t-shirt with the Squad crest ended an inch or two over the lining of Bill's training shorts, but it seemed like life in the Squad actually was improving his health. "I know how wishy-washy your parents are, Joe. There is no chance in hell, that they voted for The Leader, and I doubt, that you did it either. So what are you doing here? Taking up the training assignment, that could be filled by a real patriot?" Although I was faster than Bill, he was heavier, and he used his weight against me. He grabbed my neck, and pulled me in the direction of the loos. "So I suggest, that you ask for resigning from this, and leave your place for someone who can fill it better." He opened the door to one of the bathroom stalls. Somewhere in the locker room a door opened and closed. "And what do you think you are doing, Private?" It was Brad's voice. Bill let his grip go. "Nothing, Sergeant. Just playing with Private Wilson." "There is no place for that sort of play at this facility, Private. If I ever see you repeating this, you will will be discharged dishonourably. Is that understood?" "Sir! Yes, Sir!" - - - The reprimand from Brad did actually have an effect. Bill would often look sullen, and he obviously didn't like me, but, for the rest of the time, he avoided me, which was an improvement. I hadn't forgotten Karen's suggestion, that I would use my involuntary recruitment to the Security Squad by spying on it. I supposed she was a part of the Rebel Alliance -- as some of my friends jokingly referred to the movement -- but I couldn't for my life understand how she could know about my Top Secret draft. The opportunity came sooner than I had expected. After the the initial months of basic training, there came a time of easier work. I was ordered to clean some areas of the base regularly, and one of these areas seemed to be a sort of medical treatment facility. When I was cleaning the hallway in that facility, the door was open to one of the rooms. I couldn't avoid peeking inside. What I saw was confusing. Neither Sergeant Williams or Brad looked ill. Actually, they looked quite healthy, but they laid reclining on medical bunks, and they had IV connected to the blood vessels in their crooks of their arms. The plastic bags hanging over their bunks contained a green translucent liquid. They were not alone in the room. Two other of the Squad members -- two corporals, I believe -- were connected to similar plastic bags. There were also two men in their 30s or 40s dressed in white lab coats, and I assumed they were civilians. One of them was taking the blood pressure of Sergeant Williams. "The readings are normal. Nothing to worry about this time." The other man took notes. "I look forward to meet the old experts tonight. It will be an honour to meet the persons, the research of whom had made this project possible." "I feel warm. Is that normal?", Brad asked. "It might happen in some subjects. We have not found any correlation between that sensation and the measurable effect. There is no reason for concern, Sergeant Smith." I continued cleaning the hallway further down, and hoped that no-one would notice that I had overheard the conversation. Something appalling happened the following night. Since we knew, that Sergeant Williams nurtured a habit of waking us up at unexpected times of the night, most of us had the habit of going to bed early. I noticed, that I had left my army cap at the medical facility while cleaning, and returned in order to pick it up. Sergeant Williams was very insistent on keeping all our equipment in our lockers, and I would avoid a long rant of his, usually followed by lots of push-ups. When I crossed the yard, I noticed several cars -- civilian as well as military -- which not usually were parked like that. When I walked through the empty hallways as silently as possible, I noticed the open door of an empty office, shedding it's yellow and gloomy light into the hallway. I also noticed a strange light streaming from the outline of a closed door to something designated Laboratory III. At first, I guessed, that a sunbed was used inside Laboratory III, since the light reminded me of tanning salons, but then, the light shifted in other colours: From blue into golden, and from golden into purple, and back to blue in several cycles. I could hear sounds and noises: People discussing, the hum of machines, and then -- the increasing screams of agony from a man in pain. A man with a deep voice and in pain. Screaming. Louder. And with the screams the increasing stench of burning flesh. I catched my army cap, and left the building, hoping that no-one would have noticed me. Suspicious and curious, I hid in the darkness outside, waiting for someone leaving the building. It took a while. Two dark silhouettes carried a bier. A vague outline of a huge man under a blanket could be guessed, rather than seen, in the dark, and, when the wind blew from their direction, the ugly reek of burned flesh could be sensed. The bier was placed in a car, which drove away. On the steps to the medical facility the glow of a cigarette lit up the dark, and then the scent of pipe smoke. Two white lab coats stood close to the two smokers. Seven voices. Two young. "We are very honoured by your presence here tonight, Herr Doktor Professor. It is an honour to meet you. And also you, Doctor. And all of you three." "Schtop zat Plappermaul. Ve are not here to exchange pleasantries, but to bring science forvard. And zis experiment hasn't brought science forvard. Ve just repeated a mistake identified and countered already in 1944", an elderly voice with a central European, probably German, accent answered. "That stench is familiar to you, Helmut, isn't it?", another elderly voice with a Brooklyn dialect commented sarcastically. "Hafen't ve discussed zat matter enough, by now, Dr. Goldstein?" An American voice with a distinct Texan drawl interrupted them: "Goddamit. You have been sounding like an old married couple for seventy years, by now. If I and Vlad are willing to work together, despite our long careers trying to defeat each other, why don't you? It's not like I would have dreamed of researching in the same Lab as a former Commie. Lots of Doctor Paperclipses and The Brooklyn Phycisists worked together back in your days. It was before my time." "Doctor Paperclip? Isn't that too kind to you, Helmut? Why don't we all call you Doctor Strangelove, instead?" A British voice suitable for cutting glass interrupted. "May I bring to everyone's attention, gentlemen, that Herr Doktor Professor Hafenreffer isn't exactly correct in his assessment. We did not reproduce exactly the same mistake as in 1944. By combining all these four experiments into one, we are bringing unforeseen parameters into the equation, which were unknown at the time each experiment was performed separately. The present state of research bring us advantages our precursors didn't have." "Precursors?", four voices unintentionally exclaimed in unison. "I am so sorry. Advantages some of us didn't have in the past. I would look upon this event as a minor setback." "A minor setback?", the Brooklyn dialect interrupted. "A soldier just died in there, fried by Doctor Strangelove's non-empirical spook-ray." "Oh please, Aaron. Zere is no evidence, zat it vas ze Vril Power, zat caused ze unfortunate condition of ze test subject. It could haf been Vlad's or Mr. Jackson's chemicals zat interfered, not to mention ze unproven combination with ze Zythronic field, vhich Her Majesty's government has provided us viv." After a short pause, he added: "Ve are all very zankful for Prime Minister April's co-operation." "Nowadays, we need every trading partner we can get.", the British voice commented dryly. "Unfortunate condition? Haven't you learned anything, since 1945, Helmut?" "Oh, here we go again", the Texan sighed. "In your clothes, I vouldn't claim any moral superiority, Aaron. Vat happened to ze American marines you and Mr. Jackson tested in ze 1980s, ven you vere afraid of Vlad's comrades? And vhy vas your governmental research grants vivdrawn?" An embarrassed silence ensued, but I had heard enough, and I had to avoid to be catched while listening. I silently returned to our barracks. - - - I couldn't concentrate the next day. They were experimenting on human beings. I had to tell Karen, but how? I had no leave scheduled for several weeks. And if they had pumped Brad full of that green liquid, his life could be in danger. And Sergeant Williams, too. I couldn't be sure about Brad. I felt so bad: We had known each other for years. He had helped me. He was my friend. The weird chewing gum event suggested, that he wasn't entirely on the government's side, but exactly where did he stand? Would he report me, if I confessed about Karen and the 'Rebel Alliance'. I couldn't avoid smiling quickly. It sounded so silly. Then I became serious again. I had to protect Brad. They were not going to murder my best friend. What should I do? What was their plan? What was the purpose of the experiments? My thoughts run in loops. I couldn't concentrate the next day. I avoided the medical facility the next day. Cleaning the same floor in two consecutive days when the entire base was that vast, would be a suspect behaviour. In the middle of the night, I woke up by gunfire and roars. I wasn't the only one of us new recruits who awoke, but when we had dressed and ran out in the yard, some of the big Guards ordered us to return to our barracks. They tried to block our view, but I could see eight men struggling to carry a bier on which laid a giant. A giant! I don't exaggerate. A dead giant was carried away. There was gunsmoke and blood in the air. - - - The next day was full of physical exercises, and I had no time to investigate about the appalling experiments that took place at the base. Usually, I would briefly meet Brad several times a day, on our ways to different buildings, but that day, I didn't see him at all. What if he had become ill by the experiments? I saw him in the gym after supper. He looked different. He looked slightly bigger than before, if that was possible. He was curling a barbell with unusually heavy weights. I froze in the doorway. He wore a black tank top with the crest of the Security Squad, and it was almost bursting at the seams. His shoulders protruded, and veins I had never seen before crawled over his chest, biceps, forearms and legs. I got hard. My best friend. Big. Veins. Protective. Again, I wasn't sure about my feelings. I wanted to be like Brad, didn't I? Well, yes. And I liked him as a friend? Of course. Was I feeling something more? I admired him. Big. Friendly. Admirable. Like being impressed by another man. Impressed. By his strength. And -- ehrr -- size. And assertive presence. And... and veins. Veins. VEINS! I wanted to warn him, but how could I do that, without telling what I had overheard? I didn't know the answer to that question. I left the gym, and hoped, that he hadn't noticed me. - - - Bill was missing from exercise the next day. I was scheduled to clean a few buildings again in the evening, including the medical facility. Something was happening in Laboratory III, and the door to the room with the IV equipment was locked. I was lucky. The badly illuminated office was left unlocked. I had cleaning gloves on my hands. No fingerprints. I began to peek into the folders on the shelves. Old yellow papers, which smelled of old paper dust. Some from the 1940s. It had been kept secret, but both Germany and the British Empire had raced to be the first country with super-soldiers. In reality! Weird. It was like one of Brad's favourite films. The Nazis had exposed some of their soldiers with a classified power called Vril -- God knows where they had found that strange power. I was into computers and egineering, but I knew enough natural science to know, that there was no empirical base for such a power. But here it was: A detailed description about awakening the Vril Power in soldiers, and then expose them to it. Wait. Awaken... and expose? The first experiments had gone horribly wrong. Soldiers without Vril sensitivity had burst into flames. I felt sick. So they tried to ... awaken... Vril sensitivity. What the heck? And a series of British experiment at about the same time. At something called Torchwood Instute, not far from... let's see... Bletchley Park. Zythronic Beams? Never heard of. That is... not before a few nights ago. Zythronic Beams? It was some sort of science-fiction gobbledygook. And then I saw the black and white photographs. That sort of physique was impossible back then. Both the Germans and the British looked like super-heavyweight bodybuilders from the third millennium, with the difference, that their muscles looked like they were adapted to perform real and heavy work. And engage in combat. They were very impressive. That is, those who survived. The death rates on both sides were high, before the scientists achieved what they hoped for. And a thick stack of papers in Cyrillic script, dated to the late 1950s and early 1960s. I didn't read Russian. More recent papers. An American experiment which ran in 1969-1974, and was revived in 1981, but aborted after some terrible accident in 1985. More photographs. American marines. Very sun tanned. And muscular. Wasn't that oil too much? Oh, yes, it was the 1980s, so it must have been normal for the time. Strange dead eyes. Like their minds were shut off. And sketches of machines. Improved ones, based on the four old ones from different decades and places. A helmet connected to the main centre, intended to control and co-ordinate all the processes. Control and co-ordinate? I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Who have we here? Reading classified documents, Private Wilson?" It was the voice of Sergeant Williams. Sergeant Williams stood there, intimidating as ever. "No harm done, Wilson. You would be briefed sooner or later, but I suppose it is time to begin your treatment." "T-treatment?" I suddenly felt very, very afraid. "Our research team want to compare the effect on different body types. Your perfectly ectomorph build would give a good impression how the treatment will work on soldiers of your constitution. We have mainly worked with mesomorphs in the past, which cause the results to be askew. I had hoped to introduce you to the test programme a day, or so, in advance, but let's face the music. Prepare yourself to become big, Private." - - - Part four is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10551-the-security-squad-part-4/

Hello All, I know it has been awhile and there are other stories I should be finishing here and here, but Pokemon GO got my imagination running so I decided to do a muscle growth riff on it. Let me know what you think and if you want more. Muscleman GROW It had swept the world, taking it by storm. People everywhere walking outside with their heads buried in their phone hunting imaginary monsters. I honestly thought it looked like fun but I was worried it would take too much of my time. I mean lord knows I had a lot of free time and not much of a life, but I was holding down a full time job and walking around all over the city to find these things seem like too much of a hassle. Still, my curiosity wouldn’t go away so I decided to search on my phone, you know to learn some more about it before taking the plunge. So I typed in the search but as it was loading the results the screen of my phone flicked and I could have sworn I saw a weird writing flash on the screen. It was like this for a few seconds, but then then it went back to normal, except there weren’t any results. This was THE thing right now, how could there be no results? But there was something. In the “Did You Mean…” section it said Muscleman GROW in bold blue letters. I let out a huge laugh. Either the search engine is glitching really bad or I am just searching for too much muscle porn on my phone. I was about to refresh the screen, but there was something about this thing that just peeked my interest too much. God knows I had a thing for muscle guys. Maybe it was some parody that someone put together on a lark. I had to know. I tapped on the link and one result popped up: www.musclemanGROW.com . And underneath, “The new game that is GROWING everyday…..”. I rolled my eyes. Still, I was never one to turn down a chance at good eye candy so I prayed I wasn’t getting suckered into a virus and opened the site. Up popped a site with a black background with and an image of muscular guys of various sizes and ethnicities. In the center was the outline of a huge guy who stood half again as tall at the next tallest guy. Scrolling down further I found the logo, an outline of a man doing a double biceps pose shown from the waist up with a line down the center, red on the left side and white on the right. The red side’s body looked nice and toned athletic body, but the white side was a huge mass of a bodybuilder. Just below that was a simple green button that said “Download Now”. I know I shouldn’t have but I was already in too deep so I tapped the button. The strange flickering returned again, the strange letters fluttering in and out even faster. My phone started vibrating, like it normally would at first but then it became wilder until it started jumping in my hand. Then I could have sworn I saw some blue electric tendrils to emanate from the phone until I could feel a sharp shock in my hand that caused me to drop the phone on the ground. “Shit, Terry!” I said to myself. “Way to fuck up your phone. Probably download some fucked up malicious program and you are going to have to buy a new one.” I picked it up, glad I got a nice heavy duty case to protect it. I looked at the screen and it appeared to be rebooting. Hopefully I could salvage the phone. When I could get back in I found the Muscleman GROW icon on my screen. I ran a virus scan to see if there was anything wrong and it came up clear. Still, it didn’t necessarily mean anything so I thought it would be best to delete the app. I was about to swipe it into the trash can when I just kind of stopped. I couldn’t really say what it was but something just kept pulling on me. I felt it when I kept on pushing those links. My better judgement said no but something was compelling me to do it anyway. Instead I just put the phone down, plugged it in to charge and decided to go to bed since it was late. I would worry about it in the morning. I couldn’t really remember much of the dreams I had that night, only snippets. Flashes of the strange writing, images of muscular men, the game's logo. All I remember is waking up to the most rock hard morning wood I have ever had along with the stain of a particularly messy wet dream in my underwear. After shaking off the daze of just waking up, I turned my attention to my phone. I unlocked the screen and brought up the app’s icon again. I could still hear that voice of reason that was telling me to just forget it and delete it, but it seemed even fainter this morning. I finally decided to give in and open the app. After all what harm could it do. A load screen came up with a logo written in that same weird language. In a few seconds the screen turned into an animated red/white icon of the app with Muscleman GROW underneath with the catchphrase, ‘Gotta grow’em all’. So far the game had those casual cartoon graphics you expect from phone apps like this, just with some darker colors and some more of the odd writing integrated into the scene in various way. But then on a black background appeared a massive figure of a man. Enormous in every way, wearing an open white lab coat being pushed apart by his beach ball pecs revealing his pale and bare torso with massive brick-lick abs sticking out of his stomach. Though most of the graphics were stylized and cartoonish, this man looked almost photo realistic and he moved in full motion as evidenced by his hand sensuously going up and down the front of his body feeling every curve and bulge. And speaking of bulges the big pocket that was formed in the crotch of his black pants was filled with what had to be a log that strained its confines to the limit. From there his quads flair into his perfectly fitted slacks tapering at the knee to once again flair out at his diamond calves and into giant feet wearing equally giant black shoes. Going back up to the face I saw what was perfect youthful visage that you expect from an anime character. Even the hair had that crazy complex unruliness that it usually has, but the color was shock white. Then he opened his mouth and out came the deepest, sexiest voice I had ever heard. “Welcome to Muscleman GROW! I’m Professor Redwood. Soon, you will collect and grow your stable into the most muscular, virile, and beautiful men. But first let go over the basics.” The behemoth Professor moved off to the side and a red icon of the flexed bicep appeared on the screen. It continuously moved so it looked like it was flexing and unflexing. “This is a Muscleman Alert” the Redwood boomed. “This will let you know that there is a Muscleman nearby to add to your stable. Tap the icon to bring up the Muscleman” I did as he said and up popped a red silhouette of a blank Muscleman standing in the middle of my apartment thanks to augmented reality from the app. “When you enter the capture screen you will see a number marked MP or Muscle Power.” Indeed there was and number 50 above the head of the silhouette. “This indicates the power of and potential for changes in your Musclemen. Ones with lower MP will have slower potential for growth and change at first but will be easier to capture. Higher MP will mean potential for larger and quicker growth, but they will be harder to catch.” Wow, for an erotic parody of a phone game they sure are going all out. “To catch Musclemen your will need collars.” Next to Redwood appeared a black leather collar with brass studs that looked to be some more of that mysterious writing. “Swipe the collar at the Muscleman to capture him.” I did as he said and flicked the collar at the red form. I guess I had good aim because it went right for his neck and clicked into place. It shook three times and then with a small flash of light it clicked into place and the word ‘Gotcha’ popped up. A new screen popped up with the muscle silhouette appearing at the top with a semicircle arching over it indicating its MP. 50 must be at the lower end since the dot indicating the number was toward the bottom half of the left side. Professor Redwood appeared again. “When you have captured your Muscleman, you’ll now want to make him grow. At the time of capture your Muscleman will get a few shots of Juice to go with him. Tap the Juice and use it to make me grow.” A syringe of green liquid appeared floating in front of Redwood. I tapped it and flew into him. On contact Redwood started to groan with pleasure as he tightened his fists. I could see his muscle begin to swell and strain against the already tight lab coat. His billowing pecs expanded the front open until his pink silver dollar nipples with two thick nubs were exposed. He brought his arms up to a double biceps pose causing craggy peaks to explode from the sleeves, exposing the vein covered peaks in all their glory. Further ripping came from his pants as the teardrops of his quads where emerging from the growing rents in the fabric. The already huge bulge of his crotch strained even further to almost its breaking point leaving a clear outline in his slacks of a thick trunk that was worthy of a man named Redwood. My hardon was throbbing even bigger. The growth subsided and the Professor returned to his matter of fact tutorial tone. “You can resupply on Juice, Collars, and other items at Muscle Stops.” The game’s icon appeared on top of a pole while slowly spinning around. “Simply swipe the icon to release the items.” I did so and out popped two more syringes of Juice, two more collars with the brass studs, and a gold coin with a flexed bicep. I tapped each one and added it to my inventory. Tapping on the coin a +100 popped up indicating that each coin icon was worth that much. Redwood chimed in “Those coins are Muscle Coins. As you progress and gain levels these will become valuable in getting up grades to boost the training of your stable.” I seemed like premium currency which was odd for a game like this to give out freely without paying for it. “And speaking of experience, now that you have finished the tutorial let’s give you some to get you started.” I noticed the experience bar in the lower left corner of the screen where a +250 flashed on the screen filling the bar causing the number above to change from 1 to 2. The apps icon popped up saying ‘Congratulations, you have reached Level 2!’ as the icon flexed it biceps twice, pumping itself up a little more each time. “Now get out there and grow your stable!” And with a flex of the arm and a wink Professor Redwood disappeared from the screen, leaving a map layout of the neighborhood around my apartment building. I had to pause to gather myself, a task made harder since I was on the edge of blowing another load into my underwear. The whole thing was just absurd. Somebody put an unbelievable amount of effort into what was essential and gay porn fantasy app. But, every time I thought about something like that I could feel it being pushed from my mind, like something was making me think this was all just normal and usual and I shouldn’t think too hard on it. I finally decided that I need to try it regardless of my skepticism. Luckily, today I was off from work so I put on a pair of new clean briefs and some baggy sweatpants so I could better hide the hard on I was sure I was going to have most of the day, along with a plain red tee and my gym shoes. I headed outside and looked at the map on my phone. I didn’t see any Muscleman icons but I did see a Muscle Stop about two blocks down. When I stopped across the street where the spinning icon was showing I found myself in front of the gym simply called Iron. It was a small, hole in the wall basement gym meant for serious muscle heads. All that called attention to it was a simple wrought iron sign with its name in raised letters. I had walked by this gym, often going out of my way sometimes just to get a short glimpse of the guys that would come out. Close enough now I tapped the Muscle Stop and the spinning icon from before appeared. I gave it a spin and got some more of the items that I got before. Just then my phone vibrated. I closed out of the stop and saw a blinking Muscleman icon straight ahead. I tapped it and up came a view from my camera and standing in front of the gym with a duffle bag was a short man, about 5’6”, but incredibly built. He was the quintessential fireplug, with thick pecs and delts filling out his tank top along with huge arms that looked flexed even resting at his sides. He had a deep olive skin with dark hair, possibly making him of Latino or Mid-Eastern descent. He had trimmed but full beard with short, buzzed hair. He had full lips and a prominent nose with dark and full, but not bushy eyebrows. Above him was an overlay that said ‘Augustín: MP 400’ and on the bottom center of the screen another one of the bronze studded Collars waiting for me to throw it. What struck me was that he looked absolutely real. Not just some overlay and animation of someone, but somebody really just standing there. When I looked up from my phone I realized the reason why, he was actually there, physically across the street. I looked back and forth from between him and my phone hardly believing my eyes. How did the app know some real person was there? I was going to continue to gawk but then I realized he was about to go on his way, so swiped the Collar at him and it snapped around his neck. The thick mass of muscle froze in place, tensed up and staring straight ahead. The Collar shook once, then twice, and then snapped off and fell to the ground, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. The muscle hunk snapped out of his trance and took a couple of seconds to reorient himself then proceeded to walk around the corner out of sight, causing my screen to go back to the map. He couldn’t have been reacting to what I did in the game, could he? Still, I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, something that became easier as I continued playing the game. I kept on walking around the neighborhood finding Muscle Stops along the way. They all seemed to be at various gyms, fitness centers, supplement stores, and health food places. There was even one at a martial arts school. I finally decided to rest at the nearby park, where there was one of those outdoor fitness stations and another Muscle Stop. I felt my phone vibrate and when I looked down at the app it there was a Muscleman icon coming towards me on the path. Looking up I saw it was a tall, lean, and lithe kid, probably no more than a college freshman or sophomore jogging down my way. He stopped at the bench right across from me, both because he wanted to catch his breath and to tie a shoe that had become untied. He had that nice ripped runners build and golden brown tan he probably got from doing track since high school. He only had on running shorts with the logo of the nearby university and running shoes, baring his torso for all to see. A sheen of sweat had formed on his body accentuating his very cut but thin muscles. He had blue eyes and blonde hair, shaved at the sides and swept back and styled on top like was popular now. I realized that in my time admiring him he had almost finished tying his shoe to I quickly tap his icon on the map and brought up the screen. In the overlay above him it said ‘Samuel: MP 75’. Good I thought. Maybe he was going to be in my league. I flicked the Collar at him and once again it landed dead center. Hitting them with the Collar seemed to take no effort at all and appeared to happen automatically no matter how you aimed it. Like the one before Samuel stood straight up and looked ahead with a blank stare as the Collar continued to shake on him in the app. After the third shake there was a flash and the Collar snapped into place and a look of contentment fell over Samuel’s face. On my screen Samuel’s image popped up, but instead of him wearing shorts and shoes, he was completely naked in the app as his body slowly revolved on screen. I looked up at the real Samuel with that same empty grin on his face beginning to worry that I did something that messed him up. Another person walked by and saw his as well. Shaking him on the shoulder the other guy said, “Hey dude. Are you alright?” I quickly closed the screen I was in lest someone see me with a naked picture of the guy in front of me. As soon as I exited out he came out of his stupor, shaking his head and looking around confused. “I said are you alright, man?” the other person said again. “Yeah.” Samuel said. “I guess I just spaced out there for a second. Uh, thanks.” The other guy moved on when he saw he was okay. Just before Samuel was about to continue jogging we made eye contact. Something weird happened in that moment, like we were both aware on some level just beyond our grasp that there was some kind of connection between us, but after a few seconds he broke eye contact and continued on. I was starting to get too weirded out so I closed the app and decided to make my way back home. I put my phone aside when I got there. I tried to concentrate on other things like cleaning my apartment, getting some work done, and cooking dinner when that time came to distract me from using the app again, but I could feel its pull. Right after I finished dinner I heard a ping from my phone. It was a notification from the app ‘Hey, you haven’t grown your latest Muscleman. Tap here to get started.’ I could feel the draw from the app again, like it was pushing me to forget my reservations about how weird this was and just enjoy the ride. Hesitantly I tapped the notification and up came the profile screen with Samuel in it. He was still completely naked as he rotated on my screen. Below that was a button with that green liquid filled syringe followed by words ‘Juice Him’. I pressed the button up came a whole row of syringes. Most of them were blank grey outline, ones that I supposed were new kinds I would get later in the game. But for now I press the green one and up popped a number with a plus or minus sign on it. It looked like I could give several at a time but decided to keep it simple and just did one. I tapped the checkmark and a single green syringe popped up in front of the image of Samuel. I tapped it again and it flew into him like it did the Professor and the effects were immediate. The Samuel on screen began to moan as the Juice did its thing and caused his muscles to grow. It wasn’t very dramatic growth but it was significant. Where he had a defined but relatively flat chest was now he had two firm square plates. The egg size bulges in his arms grew to the size of oranges and spread up and down his arms giving him nice rounded baseball delts and tight, veiny forearms. His abs, a light but noticeable outline before was now six solid cobble stones. His legs already fairly developed from track became thick and ripped pillars. His slim waist stayed the same helping to accentuate the v-taper coming from his expanding lats. And his cock was not left out as it grew about an inch in both length and thickness coming in at what looked like 8”. It was all done in about a minute, the Samuel of the app now a pretty decently hung fitness model about to start his career rather that the cut runner that he was. But flashing beneath the Juice Him button was another one marked ‘Call Your Muscleman’. I thought it was probably going to be like some sort of simulation with the image where it simulates him flexing and jerking off for me. It was probably going to look poorly done but I decided to give it a try anyway. So I pressed it and a beeping signal like a ping of sonar went off, then…nothing. “Well that was a waste of time.” I said to myself. I set my phone aside and busied myself with other things. Half an hour later the front door buzzer on my intercom started going crazy. Leaving my bedroom to see what was up I went to the panel, pressed talk and said “It’s late. What do you want?” “Sir. huff … huff “It’s me! huff…huff…” Whoever was on the other end was breathless. “Samuel…huff… Sir!” My jaw dropped. I stood there for a few moments trying to sort myself out then I replied back “Did you say Samuel?” “Yes, Sir. You called for me. Please let me in!” His voice was urgent, pleading. Like coming to see me was the most important thing in the world. The hundredth time today I made a decision my rational brain knew was crazy but I couldn’t resist. So I buzzed him in. I tried to call down to him, “My apartment number is…” but I could hear the door slam from downstairs. Moments later there was a rapid pounding at the door. Afraid he would pound the door down and turned the knob and opened up the door. He really was there, the same guy from before, but now with the enhanced physique I had given him in the game. He still breathed heavily, probably having run from all the way from the university. It wasn’t that far away from my apartment but it was a hell of a distance to run full speed from in 20 minutes. His hair was disheveled, like he left his place in a moment’s notice and a tank top with his school colors, but on backwards further indicating his rushed departure. He had on the same runner’s short he wore in the park but now packed tight with his thick quads and even thicker cock. On his feet were two mismatched flip flops. But his face was what drew me, because he looked at me with his bright blue eyes with a longing that had never seen. “You called for me, Sir?” his breathing was returning to normal. “Well, I mean…I guess I did?” He put his hand on my chest and gently pushed me into the apartment and closed the door behind us. Samuel continued to stare longingly at me as he slowly rubbed his hands up slowly up my arms. “What do you want? Do you want to feel my new body?” He grabbed my hands and laid them on his new pecs and squeezed them to their full hardness underneath his tank. I shuddered and he smiled. “Or do you want to feel my arms?” He moved my left hand up and across his right shoulder and down his now outstretched arm. Bending his arm slowly his newly minted peak began to rise from his arm as he slid my hand over the orange sized mound, a hard rock covered by a silky skin. His hand left mine to explore his bicep on its own, then slowly made its way up my back until he cupped the back of my head. Slowly turning it so I faced him, he leaned in until his lips almost touched mine and whispered “Or maybe you want something more, intimate.” We just stood there for what felt like an eternity, him with his lips ever so close to mine. He seemed to be waiting for something. The last of the barriers were breaking down in me. Who was this person? How was the app making this happen? Should I be doing this? All these question and doubts I had felt since I downloaded this app were fading to their last echoes. When the last of them were quashed I finally gave in and planted my lips against him. It wasn’t long until he pulled me into an embrace against hard body and began invading me with his tongue. My hands roamed everywhere across Samuel’s rippling torso but I lingered especially long on his corrugated stomach as I slipped my hand under his tank top. Samuel broke the kiss and with his hands cupping my face he raised my head until we looked into each other’s eyes. The hunger I saw before had intensified. “Bedroom?” he said I nodded my head towards the door of bedroom. He took my hand and led me there. We stopped at the foot of the bed where he preceded remove his tank top and shorts and reveal his naked glory. I had seen it in the app but up-close it was a 1000 times more exciting. He was already hard at a thick 8”, the head shiny with precum. He reached over and lifted up my own shirt and threw it to the side. I was embarrassed standing next to him. I had an average body. No muscle to speak of and a paunch. Samuel saw it my face and smiled. He brought me in for another kiss, just as passionate, but more tender this time. He leaned next to my ear and said, “There is nothing I want more in this world than you, Sir.” He pushed me to the bed and in one swift motion pull off my shorts and underwear, leaving me exposed on the bed steel hard cock lying against me. He leapt over me and proceeded to latch on to my nipples with his mouth, sucking and chewing on each one with a gusto I had never felt before. He worked his way down my body until he reached my dick then took one long, slow lick of is tongue up the front of the shaft causing convulsions of pleasure in me before taking my whole shaft in one swift motion. He worked me expertly with every swirl and undulation of his tongue, bringing to brink just before stopping. He crawled back up to face, continuing to tease my prick with his hand. “Do you want to fuck me, Sir?” “No.” I replied. “I want you inside of me.” He grinned and pulled me into another kiss. “If that is what you want, Sir.” He grabbed my legs and hooked them onto his shoulders, teasing the head of his cock at my hole and covering it with his pre. He pressed slowly but firmly until the head popped past my hole and gently worked his way in until he buried it to the base. Rocking back and forth in a slow rhythm, he pulled in and out stimulating me to even higher thresholds of pleasure. He pushed back my legs until his face was parallel with mine and with that pleading look in his eyes again said in excited and breathless voice “Make me grow, Sir! I want to grow while I’m inside you!” To my left I could see my phone that I had left on my bed. I could just grab it and despite the stud distracting me with 8” inches up my ass I managed to open the app and bring up his profile. I pressed the ‘Juice Him’ and up popped the green syringe. Having abandoned caution to the wind already I decided to make this time really worth it and got 3 syringes ready. I looked up at Samuel and he looked me dead in the eye and said “Do it.” I tapped it and 3 syringes went flying to his avatar on screen. As soon as it hit I could hear him moan with unbound pleasure. Underneath my legs I could feel his muscles writhing as they began to expand, pushing me even further into the mattress. My hand were clamped onto his bis as they began to expand and push apart my grip, growing from orange sized mounds into huge grapefruits, with more veins beginning to criss-cross his ever sharper peaks. The pecs were pressing more insistently into the back of my thighs and in between my legs I could see the cleft between them deepen as more striations came to the surface. His traps and neck thickened, forcing lower legs back even further as he continued to jackhammer me. The excitement of the growth was spurring him on to increase his speed, the rhythm causing a rapid fire slap as he slammed into me each time. Finally, I could feel the growth reach his cock as I could feel my hole start to expand, and the friction against my prostate increase as his member grew thicker and longer in my ass. As soon as the growth finished we both couldn’t take it any longer and we exploded simultaneously, Samuel unloading deep in my ass and I unloading across my face chest and stomach. When the climax reached its end Samuel withdrew his now 10” or 11” dick from me, leaning down to lick every last drop of cum on my body and face. He kissed me again and shoved the load he had gather into my mouth for us to share the feast. When he finished he rolled over to my side letting me get a good look at his new body. He has the same golden tan but now his muscles had grown past fitness model and now he looked like amateur bodybuilder, about ready to break into the pros. I was about to explore this new body for myself when I felt a vibration from my phone. Grabbing from my side where I dropped it I looked and the screen and saw ‘Congratulations, You Reached Level 3!’ on the phone. I came with some more of the usual items plus one or two I hadn’t seen before. After collecting them another prompt came up. ‘Great job on growing your first Muscleman! Don’t you want to go out and catch some more?’ Looking over at the new and improved Samuel I just smiled to myself and said, “Yes. Yes I would.”

Part 3 When Jack got to Jason's room, he was astonished, but not shocked at what he found. He knew from deep down in his newly muscled body, that whatever Jason had become, he was going to be magnificent and beyond the realm of what is normally possible. He knew that Jason was no longer what most would classify as human. Hell, even Jack himself, was no longer normal and barely human. He felt superior and God like to anyone, including the muscle beasts that he was able to control. The constant feeling of that kind of superiority kept his cock hard and his mind and body at an optimal level of existence. He did know however that since Jason was able to make the changes in him let alone all of the other minions, that Jason was The supreme being and Jack knew somewhere deep down inside him, that his Uncle was almost at the same level as Jason. When Jack looked at his former friend, for a split second, he saw his Uncle Roy, the same one that busted through the barn door and ran into the fields, but he knew deep down that this was Jason. He could see it in his eyes, the same eyes that Jack had looked into every night for the last few years. Even after what had just happened to him, it was very hard for Jack to believe what he was looking at and he had never in his wildest dreams would have thought that anyone could ever be as huge as his Jason or his Uncle were. Each of them were colossal beings meant to be worshiped. He knew that deep in his soul. But this Jason was not the same Jason that was Jack and Roy’s friend, because the Jason lying in this bed, correction, beds, (4 to be exact end to end in a square), looked like the largest man on the planet and the once pale, flabby 60 year old doctor, looked like a bronze God in his twenties with muscles bulging everywhere. Right here, right now, Jason could go out and completely conquer the world and there would be no one that could match his size and strength to defeat him. He was completely massive with so much muscle that he was without a doubt, the most muscular man in the world. He laid there with the multiple covers covering his lower body because one sheet wouldn't suffice. He was shirtless and probably naked since there was no gown or clothes for the matter that would cover him...anywhere. For the first time since his own change, Jack felt insignificant. Still even with all his muscle, Jason didn’t look like he would be incapacitated. He moved freely and even sat up in bed. He had an amazing amount of mobility with kind of mass that he had. Jack secretly anticipated seeing Jason stand before him so that he could serve him, but he knew that that time would eventually come and he needed to be patient. Jason’s body was omitting the same sent as Uncle Roy's had been which caused every male that came in contact with it to go into their own orgasmic coma causing them to involuntarily cum. The scent was definitely floral and while intoxicating, it was manageable to Jack for now. As well as not only filling the air with the intoxicating stench, Jason was also radiating as if his skin was glowing. He no longer had any hair on his body and he was completely bald. His skin had a silky smooth oily sheen to it as like it had just been rubbed in oil, but Jack knew it was his natural flesh albeit as natural as Jason was to himself. His body was producing the oil, which was part of the scent. The shine of the oil only helped to enhance Jason’s immaculate body. Even with his own change, which Jack realized that it had made him immune to the orgasmic stupor, he still was completely enthralled with the God before him and the insatiable lust inside him teetering on the edge of losing control. Jason’s body was quite literally a mountain of muscle. Even after seeing Roy’s huge massive body, Jack was sure that Jason was much larger than his Uncle. He was easily 3 times bigger than Uncle Roy. Jack guessed that when Jason finally did stand erect, he would be about 18 to 20 feet tall and as wide as the length of a small car. His head was now the size of huge beach ball and his face was chiseled to gorgeous perfection. His looks were the same as before, but different in that anything that was an asset to him before was enhanced 10 fold and areas that weren’t previously kind to him, were changed to glorious beauty. Any and all imperfections were erased and replaced with the features of a true God. Jason just sat there watching his new creation and soon to be lover admiring its maker’s incredible body and godlike existence. He sat quietly, in appreciation, letting Jack take it all in, for Jason knew what was yet to become. Jack’s vision traveled south from Jason’s face as he noticed his neck was enormous, as it melted into his shoulders with traps that were literally obscene. Then Jason had involuntarily flexed his shoulder and neck muscles just by moving his head and the thickness of them increased by about 8 inches all over, exploding in the mass of a most muscular pose, but he wasn’t even trying to flex them. That was just the natural use of his muscles doing that and the thought of that enthralled the boy. Jack moaned in an uncontrolled ecstasy as he felt a large glob of precum shoot out of his cock and land on one of the beds that the mountain was on. He could feel himself losing more and more control over his own body, the longer he was in there with his friend and instead of fighting it, he let it energize him. What normally would have put anyone else into the orgasmic stupor was only feeding Jack’s own power and strength inside him. He could feel his muscles gaining power and size, but in a very slow manner. He could feel the superiority of his new self, replacing his former meek human form. It was as if he was in a constant state of growth and controllable orgasms. Jason just smiled at the added appreciation of his new subject and at the thought of what was yet to come. Jack took his finger and wiped up some of his juice off the covers and sucked on his finger as he continued his visual quest of his new master. Jason’s upper torso from shoulder to shoulder must have been somewhere between 6 to 8 feet across. Each one of his pecs on his chest was about as large as a truck tire, and he guessed that they were hard as granite, but pliable to the touch. They were perfectly chiseled into mounds that a normal sized person could sit on and not even cover the pec. Jack could see the strands of each muscle that combined to make out Jason’s chest. Each pec also had a large baby bottle nipple that hung down from their weight and there was a small bead of a milky substance dangling from each one before it would drip down onto his stomach as it found a river bed of an ab and then it would slowly travel down the crevices of his body as it miraculously absorbed back into him. His abs were just as amazing and completely inhuman, as there were a total of 12 of them. 6 on each side, wait…either it was the way he was laying or Jason actually had a small extra one his left side, just under his left pec, making it a total of 13. Each ab was like someone had laid out a bunch of Italian sausages, starting with the smallest just under his pecs and then each one longer than the one before, across his stomach as those were so large and the valleys in between them were deep enough that Jack thought even with his new colossal cock, he could actually fuck Jason’s abs. More precum shot from his cock up and onto his own muscled chest. Again he licked it off like licking the batter of a cake. Then Jack’s eyes traveled to Jason’s mammoth hands that lay in front of him on his lap. It was amazing, but wasn’t uncanny that both hands were huge, with each finger being enormous and thick. Each hand was larger than a large Frisbee and his two middle fingers were as large as normal sized bottles of water. They could have fucked a normal person, giving them the likeness of a huge 9” thick cock fucking them mercilessly. In each finger, you could see the tendons moving them like muscles under the skin and the actual muscles in his hands were cut and thick which give them just as much of a muscular appearance as the rest of him. There was no doubt in Jack’s mind that Jason could literally crush someone’s head with just has bare hands and he wouldn’t even need to exert much pressure. Jack looked further up Jason’s arms as he realized that his arms looked almost like tree limbs, having stands and mounds of tendons and muscles looking like the bark of a tree. His forearms were incredibly thick and larger than a Two, 2 liter bottles at their thickest point. Jack was sure that the power of his forearms only enhanced Jason’s super strength of the thickest, largest and most defined upper arms of anyone anywhere in the world. His upper arms were as big as a large sack of potatoes with muscles that lumped out to near obscene gestures without even flexing them. His biceps alone looked like there was more than just one muscle. The man actually had triple biceps on each arm. Jack longed to be held in those arms and for a third time, Jack closed his eyes in ecstasy as he shot a large wad of precum, this time actually spraying across Jason’s chest. That was what Jason was waiting for and he flexed his arms in the largest display of a bicep pose ever. His upper arms went from circumference of 30” to over 43” around with so much muscle and power that the stiffing of his muscles from the flex cause a sonic wave of “Pollination” as Jason would later call the phenomenon, which caused those anywhere within the area to go into the orgasmic bliss and begin their own regeneration process into muscular beasts like himself, though they would always be smaller than Jason, Roy or Jack as they would be the drones or “seedlings”. This wave flowed over everyone and everything on the seventh floor of the hospital, causing all of those that were or weren’t already in a orgasmic stupor to fall under the spell. The only one that still seemed somewhat immune was Jack. Jack turned around to see all the men on the floor, each spewing volley after volley of cum until their balls were dry and then they began to grow. Slowly, but noticeably their bodies increased in size and musculature, ebbing when they were all around the size of a Mr. Universe. By now with all of the pheromones hitting everywhere in the hospital, all of the men were now in their state of change and growth. Jack turned back around to see Jason still in the double bicep pose and what seemed to be in some sort of trance of his own. Then Jack noticed movement under the sheets. It was coming from in between the two 6 feet long and 3 feet high cylindrical mounds of what Jack could only deduce were Jason’s legs. The movement began to rise higher and higher, pulling the sheets toward the center of Jason’s body. Jack knew that this was Jason’s cock, but as the sheets grew higher, the width of what was beneath it seemed to expand as well, as it just kept rising, 2 feet, 3 feet, 6 feet, now over Jason’s head, and it didn’t stop until it was about 8 feet high off of the bed. The sheets had now been pulled off of Jason’s legs from the outside in, as his cock rose to it’s flag pole status. As Jason’s legs were revealed to Jack, he noticed that even though they were still made of flesh and muscle, the looks of them were that of 2 huge oak tree trunks. The muscles in them were so extreme that they contorted Jason’s legs to that of the mighty oak. It was freakish, but incredibly sexy and erotic at the same time. Then something even more extraordinary began to happen. Jason’s flag pole of a cock began to come back down and towards Jack to the end of the bed. The scene looked like a Cobra that had been erect and ready to strike, but was now coming forward and down to slither toward its meal. For a moment Jack thought to run, but he realized that he couldn’t. The wave that was emulating off of Jason’s body was holding him there; its power wrapped around Jack and held him rigid and in an orgasmic bliss as it caressed him sensually. He was helpless to fight as he watched Jason’s cock began to become unhooded from the sheet. The cock head of it was as large as a normal man’s head and it had a white pungent liquid flowing slowly out of it. The head and the rest of the cock were as slick and shiny as the rest of Jason’s body and it was as muscular as his legs, arms and torso; so muscular that it resembled a tree, or more so, it was like that of a wooded vine; an enormous vine that began to extend away from the bed and slither under Jack’s legs. As its skin touched Jack’s, more currents of pleasure soared through Jack. He lost all fear of the monstrosity of it all as he became even harder and more excited. He was elated, completely giving over his body to the vine and its owner, as it slithered up between his thighs and separating Jack’s ass crack traveling up and around Jack’s back, arms and torso as it entwined him in its warm sensual hug. Then the head of the cock stopped right in front of Jack’s face, as if it were looking at him, studying him. Jack was intrigued and wanted a taste of the white liquid that flowed out of it. Thus, it was as if the cock knew of his wishes, it moved forward enough for Jack to lick the piss slit and capture and drink down some of the liquid. The second the liquid touched Jacks tongue, he orgasmed in huge sprays of cum all over the bed, the room and Jason. Then as he swallowed the nectar, Jack’s body hit a growth spurt as if the nectar had fertilized him. His entire body gained another 4 inches everywhere and he roared at the blissful feeling it gave him. This caused the other, lesser seedlings to answer Jack’s roar with a roar of their own. He instinctively knew that he was becoming a second master to the seedlings. The vine cock then began to loosen its hold on Jack, but only enough accommodate his new growth. Jack noticed Jason, who was still in his trance, smile and then the cock head inched closer to Jack’s mouth, resting itself just shy of his lips. The flow had stopped so Jack could not get any more of the nectar. That is when Jason began to speak, but in a language that Jack had never heard before, “ytilatrommi fo kao gnorts eht fo ratcen eht of tifg eht evieceR .elcnu dna dneirf ruoy ekil ,lla ot doG a emoceb lliw uoy dna oZ fo nedarg eht fo eno emoceb ot won era ouY” Over and over Jason kept saying the same thing in a monotone voice, but with the bass of a thousand drums. Jack could physically feel the words hitting his chest. Jason’s cock head began to leak out more nectar. This time though it had a greenish tint to it. Again, instinctively, Jack knew that he needed to ingest the liquid and he opened his mouth to receive the nectar. The entire time, Jason kept reciting the same gibberish over and over, but as Jack drank the liquid, his hearing began to become muffled and his brain began to reorganize the words that Jason was uttering. Jack continued to hear, “dna oZ fo nedarg eht fo eno emoceb ot won era ouY …” but then it began to change. “you will become a God to all, like your friend and uncle. Receive the gift of the nectar of the strong oak of immortality. You are now to become one of the Garden of Zo and you will become a God to all, like your friend and uncle…” Holy Fuck…It was beginning to make sense. Everything that Jason was saying was backwards, but now Jack was able to understand him. The words comforted and empowered Jack. The green nectar was a decipher for those of the Garden of Zo. It aided in knowing the language and the creation of one to become a God of Zo, but it did not fully explain who these God’s were. Images of other Gods of Zo came to Jack’s mind. Thousands of incredibly huge and muscular Gods with various specialties of their own, but all of them were beings of the Garden. Jason was already a God of Zo and his specialty was the vines with the strength of the mighty oak tree. Jack knew that Jason was the strongest of the Gods and he was honored to be the recipient of that gift of his friend. He knew that when a God gives himself to make another, that recipient not only will have his own specialty, but he will empower the specialty of his maker. His Uncle Roy, however seemed to be on his way to becoming a God of Zo, but there was something that wasn’t quite right about him. He didn’t know what his Uncle’s specialty was, but it seemed wild and untamed. Still, Jack was definitely becoming another incredibly strong God of Zo and he was excited to find out his what his own specialty would be. Jack understood what Jason was and he began to understand what had happened to Uncle Roy. But there were pieces missing about Roy’s existence. Jack understood that he, like Roy and Jason was becoming less human. Now…he was becoming something more than himself, something more than any human on earth, something only a God could be…and he was finding his destiny…and it was magnificent.

Part 1 is here Part 2: When I woke the following morning I was naked in bed, save for a skimpy shiny silky blue poser that I wear for competitions and kinky sex. It took me a moment to come to. I remembered posing in the mirror last night in my UA compression gear… fuck my biceps looked so huge. The memory of them rippling made me gasp. I remember feeling power – a surge of power that grew from within, making me wanna flex and swell and explode my cum; like nothing I’ve felt even in the horniest of horny moments. I had to catch my breath now just thinking of it. I remembered cumming real hard, with a massive release and extreme orgasmic pleasure, nothing I’ve felt like before. My body looked perfect in the mirror and it felt right to cum so hard looking at it. I remember falling to my knees with the effort, and then… I sat up straight in the bed… that student! He flashed into my mind, which had previously only been occupied by my muscular body and reflection. How did he get here? What was he doing? My last memory of the night was falling to my knees, the student standing behind me, rubbing my shoulders and caressing my neck. I can’t remember what he was saying, but it felt good. I just remember feeling good. The posers and how they got on me… no memory at all. I moved to get out of my bed, but I felt different. I pulled back the cover, and saw that I was… thicker all over, like the swell and the pump from my workout hadn’t gone. Damn, I have to try high reps more often. I hauled out of the bed and not used to the additional size, waddled a bit to the big mirror alongside my wardrobe. It took a second to focus from slumber, but they were definitely looking a bit more swollen. In the tiny posers, they quads looked really massive, arcing out in a larger than usual curve. I rubbed my crotch absent-mindedly while admiring them, flexing from different angles. I started to jerk a bit, but my phone buzzed, to remind me of a work meeting. Damn, hadn’t much time. No time to wash, I pulled out a pair of freshly laundered pants and one of my work shirts. I had them professionally laundered each week, as I liked to look pristine at all times. Concentrating on balancing, I lifted my leg into one of the trouser legs, and pulled it up. When they reached my thigh, it was tight, tighter than usual. I liked them snug, but it seemed the extra pump was making the snug fit tight. I wiggled a bit and pulled them up over my quads. In the mirror, I saw that they looked more like spandex tights than trousers. The tightness across the quads was causing them to shine a little in the light.It looked so fucking good. My phone buzzed again: email from my head with material to prep for the meeting. Dammit, it would have to do – I had to go. It was the same with my shirt. I noticed pulling it on that the sleeves were tighter, and closing it across my chest meant that the buttons pulled apart a little with the strain. I looked in the mirror. It was faintly ridiculous, but the tightness and the sense of exhibition turned me on. I rubbed my crotch again until my phone buzzed again. DAMMIT! I moved as fast as I could through to the kitchen. The additional volume of my legs and the restraint of the pants meant that it was hard to walk right. In the kitchen, there were two shakers filled on the table. Strange, I don’t remember leaving them there. Beside them was a note: “Hey BIG MAN! Great fun last night… you’re getting bigger all the time. Bet those pants are a bit tighter this morning haha… Here’s some fuel for the day – remember what I said – drink it all down. We want to get you as big as possible don’t we? See you later for more fun. Ken xx” Ken. That was his name! I think I remember that. I looked at the shakes. Something was going on, but while I tried to think about it, I just thought of my reflection in the mirror, the tight pants and the shirt ready to burst. Ken was right. I am going to get as big as possible. And these things will happen. It’s a natural part of being a bodybuilder. I’ll just have to upsize my wardrobe sooner than planned. I picked up the first shaker and knocked it back in a few gulps. Man that tasted GOOD! I picked up the second. I took it into the trophy room. My huge mirror there was where I liked most to look at myself. I took a few gulps of the shake. Damn these clothes look so fucking good on me. I gulped a bit more. Love how they show the full volume. Look at the swell on those biceps! I took out my smartphone and took a picture as I gulped again, flexing as I did (of course). I looked at the photo, and a bit shocked, saw that I was really pumped. I was looking really huge! Ken said I would feel the effects. Which reminded me! Ken. I was meant to send him a photo of me posing. He made me promise. I better do it quickly, he will be really disappointed if I don’t. Ken loves my muscles and understands how much I need to grow. I tapped on the phone and sent him the photo. “Enjoying the view” I thought that was a good caption. Ken would know what I meant. I looked at the photo again, and got horny thinking about my size. Soon these clothes won’t contain me at all! Damn I look so freaky right now. I wanna…. The phone buzzed again and more work shit came through. Cursing, and taking one more glance in the mirror, I left for work, enjoying the tight feeling of clothing on my body as I sat in my Audi’s leather seat. Fuck I felt so horny and it was only 8 am. ----------------------------- Ken woke to the sound of his phone buzzing. It was a message from his latest acquisition. He looked at it and grinned. Damn that man was big. Such potential! Little did he know what he had in store. He forwarded the message to his client. “Acquisition 5A-2 is now in Stage 2. Will confirm when Stage 3 is complete and he is ready for processing.” He hit send and then lay back in the bed, looking at the photo again. Jerking off to it, he came quickly at the sight of his prey bulging in tight clothing. Damn he was gonna have fun this week. Maybe he would delay Stage 3 and the inevitable handover for a while. But he knew his client was an impatient man. And he paid a lot of money for things to happen quickly. ----------------------------- I love to hear comments and suggestions.

Tagline: A jock finds an ancient artifact to gain the godly powers of a race long extinct. Author's Note: A sequel to my old story from 2012 (now in the archive). This is the third of my bad boy corrupted stories, where guys get corrupted by supernatural powers and things of that sort. I have a bad habit of writing too many of these stories, but I tried my best to vary this one up a little bit, and I left it open for another chapter. Let me know criticism or even ideas for other stories like this. I like the whole muscle growth superpower story and don't see a ton of them around anymore, so hopefully it is fun for some of you guys reading. If it is a bad story, let me know that, too always trying to improve what little I do write these days. The Jocks Rule II Marcello thought he was going on a hike with his sporting buddies. He thought they were going to do a little hunting, a little swimming, a little camping for the weekend, something to celebrate their senior year's spring break. He never knew that his buddy Daniel had worked another plan in, and that Marcello would become a key part of it. When he hopped into Daniel's old VW Golf, he nodded to Larry already in the coupe's old back seat. “What's up, man?” Larry asked. School had been keeping Marcello busy and he was busy trying to get his academic requirements in order before college next year. “Ugh, just busy, dude,” Marcello said. “I'm lookin forward to spending a weekend with you guys. I had to miss track practice last week so I could get these college interviews in. Whatever.” Daniel and Larry exchanged glances with each other. “What?” Marcello asked. “Larry, did you bring your rifle and clay pigeons?” Larry cleared his throat before explaining to Marcello their plan, “Okay man, we're not exactly going to just hike and shoot and stuff. Last weekend, while you were out of town, Daniel and I found this sick cave under Lake Sereno. It's fuckin nuts man, but there's some cool shit in there but since you're the smartest and all that, we gotta show it to you, you might be able to understand what some of the shit on the walls and artifacts say. I don't want to say too much because you probably will think we're crazy, but just bear with us.” Daniel stepped on the gas as they pulled onto the highway out of town, Daniel was more excited to get there than Marcello realized. “Where is it?” Marcello asked. “We've gone fishing at that lake for years I've never seen anything like that.” “It's underwater,” Daniel answered, calmly. “Maybe a half mile out from the Forest Deck Pier. I think for a long time it had been covered by a rock or a sandtrap, but I accidentally anchored over it and it caused the dirt to cave in, that's when we discovered the cave.” “Hang on, hang on,” Marcello answered. Marcello was a critical thinker and a smart guy, and none of this made sense to him. “First, how could you get into the cave if it's underwater, you don't have any scuba tanks. And second do you really think you're the first person to discover something like this? Don't you think if you found something with valuable shit inside it it would have already been discovered?” Daniel simply nodded his head. “Nope.” He said. “The underwater portion is small, it only takes about 10 seconds to swim through and you're above the water line again, it's not flooded. And I don't know or care if anyone else has discovered anything there before, it's fuckin cool and there's shit in there that I want you to see.” Marcello just nodded his head. “Alright. But I didn't bring anything to swim in.” “We didn't either,” Larry said, “doesn't matter, we all know each other well enough.” Daniel pulled his car into the parking lot. “It'll be a quicker access if we walk to the other side of the lake, there will be less people to see us too, it's way more remote over there.” Daniel and Larry led Marcello through a familiar trail of thick, evergreen trees and shrubs on their way to the pointe at the lake. Marcello liked his friends well enough, but he and his buddies knew that, for a jock, Marcello was the smart, sophisticated, calm, less impulsive of the group. He must have gotten those traits from his mom, because his dad was always a redneck, impulsive, jock loving athlete who had conditioned Marcello to play and condition at every sport he could. Marcello enjoyed the competition too, but he knew he was always a little different from his friends and fellow athletes. Now in his senior year, Marcello was looking forward to finishing the year strong in his track and field sport—Daniel and Larry meanwhile wanted to slow down time and hopefully never end their high school careers. On the walk out Marcello's buddies continually talked about their meet the next day, the schools they'd be competing against, and who would have the biggest muscular mass to show off during the meet. Marcello finished his senior year strong, all honors classes, a good university acceptance, he played Football in the fall, Wrestling in the winter, and now track and field. He enjoyed track the most, it was easy and running as well as pole vaulting allowed him to work more automatically. Larry and Daniel led the way out to the shore before taking their shoes and socks off, undressing for the swim out to the cave entrance. Marcello knew these guys since his freshman year, they were always more into being athletic and building tough bodies, something Marcello happily took part in but never gave as much attention to it as his buds. They were also way more assertive and often acted like the class bullies in PE and with non-athletic outsiders. “Outsiders,” they called them, Marcello thought, nodding his head “no.” “Do you guys mind getting naked today? I have a towel in my trunk but I don't want your underwear soaking through my car,” Daniel requested. “If we get naked we can dry off once we get back and our clothes will already be dry. Obviously.” Larry chuckled as he dropped his gym shorts. “Dude, your car is a piece of junk! Who cares?” Marcello tossed his own t-shirt to the side as he sat on the soft, moist dirt to untie his tennis shoes and pull off his socks. “We've seen each other naked every day for nearly 4 years, I think we'll be fine,” he said. Larry just nodded his head in a appreciative “yes.” “Yeah we do know how to get naked,” Larry responded. Marcello looked up at his friend. Larry was a gymnast since his youth and continued to condition himself that way. He had a thick layer of muscle on his body though he was a shorter guy at only around 5'8”. “Have you been shaving yourself?” Marcello asked as he stood himself back up. Marcello towered over Larry with his own 6'3” frame. Marcello looked down at his own bare chest to see a decent amount of dark, curly hair branching from his breastbone out toward his thinly defined pecks, a treasure trail going down to his waistline. Larry nodded his head, “yeah man, the chest hair is bugging me. I don't mind it on my legs, but not on my uppers,” he said. Marcello could see the pores where Larry's hair used to be, but his masculinity showed itself below his waist, with his shaped quads and shins covered in blonde hair. Marcello's own body was nearly the opposite of Larry. Marcello hit both a second wave of height spurt as well as a hair growth a year or two ago. He now stood fairly tall but the resulting growth made him fairly lanky. Marcello's own muscle definition was there, but was much less defined than Larry or even Daniel's own. As Daniel stripped down to his own boxer briefs, Marcello briefly brought his attention to his other friend. What Daniel lacked in muscle definition he had in more noticeable masculine traits. His black hair covered his legs and chest in full force. The guy was a hairy fiend. Unlike Marcello and Larry, who tended to wear boxers, Daniel always wore dark, spotted boxer briefs, and he wasn't afraid to show its key defining part: his obnoxiously large package. “What?!” Daniel would always say as onlookers brought their attention to his stuffed balls and dick. He liked the attention his dick brought him, and he wasn't afraid to show it to girls or guys. Marcello had only been with a girl a couple of times, his on-and-off again girlfriend Cheri, but Daniel seemed to get laid all the time. And for the dudes? He used his packing authority to intimidate and ridicule, sometimes to Marcello's own amusement. Larry was the first to strip naked and tug on his flaccid dick. Marcello followed and Daniel soon followed after him, his large package flopping out as he pulled his briefs down to his ankles and rolled them into a ball. “I'll hide the clothes under this rock, here, guys,” Daniel said, motioning for his naked friends to toss them their own underwear. Marcello stretched himself and looked out to the shimmering lake to his right. Larry stepped into his view and carefully walked over the sticks and washed up rocks before wading into the lake, his hard, square ass rocking with his bulked quads. “Nice n' warm, dudes!” he said before taking the last step off the shore and into the deeper water. Marcello followed him turned to see Daniel closely behind him, holding his hand over his eyes to keep the sun's reflection from shining out his view. Marcello took a long dive into the deep water and dove under, enjoying the refreshing feeling of the water against his naked body. He could hear Daniel doing the same. Larry grabbed Marcello's shoulders and quickly shoved him under, horsing around as quickly as he could. Daniel soon followed suit and the three guys got into a combo splashing and free water wrestling match. Marcello couldn't easily be pulled under because his height enabled him to quickly evade his would-be captors, but Larry easily got hold of Daniel and held him under for a second before Daniel punched him in the abs, forcing him to let go. “Shh!” Marcello said, sinking his head close to the surface of water. “There's some fishermen out on the other side of the lake.” Daniel didn't seem to mind, “No biggie man,” he said, continuing to whisper. “here, let's wade over this way, I'll show you what we found.” The guys quietly kicked over to the center of the lake, carefully evading the fishermen off the shoreline. Marcello would have never known to look in this area of the lake for anything, his buddies very well may have found something special. “Alright, we have to dive under, you'll see the hole it's about 3 feet wide, swim into it and as soon as it makes a U-shaped turn back up, you'll notice it turns from sand to smooth stone, like a cave wall, you'll be able to get there in 10 seconds or less.” Marcello interrupted. “Wait,” he said. “let's go one at a time so if we can't find it we can turn back around again to breathe. Count to 15 before going next.” “Good idea,” Daniel said. “I'll go first,” and with that he dove under. Larry gave Marcello another playful splash. He looked at his friend and couldn't help but think this entire activity was silly, from looking for lost caves to swimming naked in the middle of the afternoon. But Marcello seemed to be able to do silly stuff and come out of the situation better off, so he figured, what the hell. Larry dove under and worked his way toward the cave. Marcello looked around and noticed the fisherman were gone, they must not have noticed three naked men in the lake. If he or his buddies got lost or drowned, it would take days for people to find them. Finally, Marcello dove and despite the murky water, he was able to find this 3 foot wide hole and he worked his way inside, quickly turning back up toward the surface and surprising himself into an open and clean smelling cave. He took a breath and saw his buddies ahead of him, dripping water down their naked bodies as Daniel had his arms crossed and Larry had them at his side. Larry turned around and offered Marcello his hand as he lifted him up from the entrance pool. “Damn, you guys were right,” Marcello said. He walked silently around the open cave. It was huge. And brilliant. Light shined in from a translucent glass ceiling on the corner of the cave, flooding the room with sunlight. The area where he entered was mostly empty, but Marcello saw as he approached the other side a lot of bizarre and interesting items: carved benches, odd shaped weapons, swords, shields, and magnificent and old paintings scattered around the floors and the walls. “You guys already saw all this, right?” Marcello asked, shaking himself dry as he carefully inspected each item. “Yeah,” Daniel answered, following him, “I'm sure there's more around here, but we saw a lot of stuff, we didn't take anything though, we couldn't understand the script that was written next to each item, and everytime we tried to take something...” Marcello found out as he picked up a sword on the ground and electric shock burned into his hand and he let go, snapping the weapon back into its held position against the wall. “What the fuck?” he asked. Daniel continued, “...yeah, that happened.” “Alright,” Marcello said, thinking critically, “let's see if we can read some of this.” Writing was scattered everywhere, but it was in a script that seemed to be a mix of Greek and some strange, hieroglyphic-like symbols. Marcello didn't really study either language so he wasn't familiar but toward the back of the cave stood a strange, rounded-shaped relic, and on the floor were foot marks where someone had stood, apparently long enough to erode the very rock beneath the floor. Marcello examined the footprints and carefully placed his two bare feet into each, Daniel and Larry carefully looking behind him. “We didn't go back this far earlier,” Larry said. The imprints shifted and molded against Marcello's feet and he felt a strange sensation within his own head, as if someone was reading it. Suddenly, the wall's language began to shift, the lettering and symbols moving and morphing into a new script. Latin script. Something Marcello could understand! His eyes opened wide at the paranormal occurrence happening before him. He couldn't believe it. As the lettering slowed, the rock moved one again away from his feet and Marcello stepped toward the wall and carefully read what had been translated, he assumed, for him. A Human. Here. After so many years. Welcome. We are the Zets, we have placed our lifeforce here for your kind to one day find. Some have discovered this place before but none were worthy. Until you. When our race was conquered by the Ledomites, we were forced to flee our home planet, and deposited our artifacts across your planet waiting for the perfect species to merge with. You will be our first. We were warriors once, ultimate immortals, and we need the same strength and character to carry on our purpose. An athlete. A man who is capable of athletic pride and competition, who has the character of a warrior and the shamelessness of his body. You are the first to walk to our presence in your One True form. Because of this, You shall gain our gifts of power. Marcello couldn't believe what he was reading. It was absolutely ludicrous. As Larry and Daniel approached more words began to appear under the script. Two more men of honor arrive with their True Form ready. Once the First of You merges with our power, the other two will have the ability to earn our gifts. Take these and only these. After you have merged with us you can come back to this place, your new sanctuary. The rock bench shifted in front of Marcello and his friends and like an earthquake three distinct cracks formed and three previously hidden artifacts emerged from the bench. “Holy shit,” Marcello whispered, “Guys, what the fuck is happening.” Out of the bench three green, rocky half cylinders morphed and dropped in front of Marcello. They were small, rounded half shaped cups, almost like a cup put into an athletic supporter. Once again the writing shifted. These are our first artifacts. Each of you take them. The first of you must wear it first in front of a human victim, any male form with which to power yourself. Then the second must repeat, and finally the third. You must do this in your True Form, and your victim must be in his own True Form. You must make a pact to do this within the next 3 moon cycles, lest you forfeit our powers and our gifts. Marcello was in a daze, partially brought on by the writing in front him, partially brought on by this situation in the first place. What was this place? Daniel took a step closer and nodded his head. “Yes, of course,” he said in a daze. “What are you talking about?” Marcello asked, pushing his friend back. “I don't know what the fuck this is, but you saw what's happening here, there's fucking powers built into this place, and into these jock cups, they are made for us. Young men who are jocks and happy to be naked. Of course we're going to take them, of course we're going to use them. “And what the fuck is this talk about human victims?” Larry asked, joining the whispers. “I don't know yet,” Daniel said, “but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to join this society of, uhh, Zets. Short of killing someone, I don't think anything bad will happen, I think we need to put these things on our dicks in front of some other naked dudes, we use some of their lifeforce to gain the Zets powers.” “Are you FUCKING NUTS?!” Marcello asked, looking around to see if anyone had followed them in. “We are standing NAKED in a cave with magical words morphing in front of us, and it's says we need to steal someone's LIFE to gain the powers!” “No, it didn't, it just said 'victim',” Daniel said. “And anyway, we can figure that out later, let's take these things then we'll figure out what to do next.” Daniel reached out to grab the rock and bone-encrusted cup but when he grabbed it he immediately grabbed his arm and doubled over. “Oww!” he said. Looking down at his arm, Marcello noticed a roman numeral “II” tattoo grow onto his skin, and another one onto his waist near his pubic hair. Daniel moved his hand and touched his waist. “I'm number II,” Daniel said. “You've gotta be I Marcello, and that makes you III, Larry.” Marcello breathed a sign of stress before reaching his own arm out and grabbing the cup, it too burned his hand but the cup easily lifted off of the bench and into his possession. When he did so, Marcello had a brief flash, like a dream, of a powerful and immortal soldier, someone who seemed to be able to do essentially anything. “Woah,” Marcello said, stepping back. The fantasy grew inside him, it was orgasmic. Feeling more enthusiastic about his own potential powers, Marcello smiled. “Okay guys, let's take these,” he said. Daniel lifted his arm back and grabbed his own cup, feeling the same fleeting fantasy as Marcello had. Larry followed third, and earned his mark as well as his own vision. “Oh fuck yeah,” Larry said, now more enthusiastic as was Marcello and Daniel. The three jocks smiled at each other but quickly their attention was brought back to the writing for one last time. As men of strength in your True Form, you must make your pact. Deposit your seed into our artifact and find your human victim within 3 moon cycles. The bench before them shifted once again and stretched into a mini altar, one each in front of Marcello and his friends. Marcello looked to the left and the right and saw a strange, claw like table form, a hand directly in front of each of their crotches, perfectly positioned to hold the cups each of them had in their hands. “What is it saying, exactly, Marcello?” Larry asked. Daniel answered for him, “it wants us to swear an oath to ourselves and to the Zets that we will do this within 3...moon cycles...” “Full moon cycles,” Marcello said, staring at his alter. “That's 3 months or so, plenty of time,” in a daze, Marcello continued. “We need to promise to ourselves and also to the Zets. And we need to jizz into the cups now so that they become a permanent part of our being.” The guys looked at their own cups before setting each of them down onto the claw-like altar pedestals. The hands closed on the cups and held them in place. “Holy shit,” Marcello said. Daniel ran his hands from his shoulders down his chest and toward his package, closing his eyes and dreaming of the powers he could soon gain. “Guys, this isn't going to take me long, I hadn't wacked in a few days because I thought I was gonna get laid tonight, but, this is way more important.” Marcello had masturbated in front of his friends exactly one time before and it was a drunken, limp biscuit-style prank they were playing on the non-jocks to see who could jizz the fastest. This was completely different, but Daniel was already growing a stiffy and positioning himself. Marcello turned back to Larry who was dazzlingly tugging at his own member. “We gotta, dude,” he said. The vision had of Marcello's powers were making him horny, and his friends own erections were adding to his enthusiasm. Marcello set both of his hands on his waist and rubbed the sides of his butt before moving his hands toward his package, lifting his flaccid dick and feeling his balls, tenderly touching them as his dick started moving outward and higher. His balls pulled against his body and a shudder of pleasure went through Marcello. His breathing increased as he started pumping his dick, rubbing his left hand against his balls as he started jerking himself faster and faster. “Okay,” Daniel said between breaths, his eyes shut, “I'm almost ready, I want the power, the power!” he said louder. “Just a second,” Marcello said, his own breathing increasing, “I'm almost there,” “Make sure you're, hmm, umm, aiming,” Larry added, opening his eyes. The three jocks moved their feet and positioned their cocks in front of the waiting cups. “Fuck yeah!” Daniel whispered as his cock chocked and spewed his semen onto the cup, his body quaking in orgasm. The sight trigger's Marcello's own orgasm as he followed suit, Larry to the right of him following right behind. Marcello kept his attention on the cup as his dark yellow and clear liquid fell onto the cup, the cup soaking it in as it began to glimmer. Daniel wiped his dick into the cup and Marcello and Larry soon followed, getting the last of their seed onto the artifact. The altars snaked back into the wall, dropping the cups onto the floor. Marcello picked his up and noticed the same roman numeral I inscribed on the inside of the cup. Its shape changed somewhat, shrinking just slightly in size to match his flaccid package. Marcello was tempted to wear it immediately but Daniel stopped him. “Wait dude!” he said. “We need to do this outside of the sanctuary, and in front of another naked male. We can find some guys to try this on tomorrow after PE, but not now. Marcello looked down at the cup before looking at his naked buddies examining their own, each with their own personalized numerals. “Okay then,” Marcello said, agreeing, “I'll try it first tomorrow, then you guys can follow. But who do I try it on?” The three of them began to smile in union: “Evan,” they said together. Evan was a short man syndrome, crazy, hyper active non-jock who was in their PE class. The guy was short, skinny and vastly underdeveloped, but he didn't let that stop him from being intrusive, rude, petty, mean and selfish. He beat up on everyone even when he couldn't actually hurt anyone and always started fights. He was particularly mean to Larry but had picked more than a few fights with Marcello and Daniel. Marcello never picked fights with anyone and only saw Evan as a mild annoyance, but perhaps it was time for Marcello to show the dweeb who was boss. Marcello led the way back through the cave entrance and to the shoreline. Their clothes safely sat near the shoreline as the jocks toweled off. “Okay,” Daniel said, planning their time tomorrow, “we're all getting naked in the showers tomorrow. Hide your cups in your towels and once we corner Evan, Larry, throw Marcello his cup. Once Marcello changes I don't think we'll have a problem finding another victim for me or you.” “You take PJ, I'll take Charlie,” Larry added, “they should be easy targets.” “If I gain these powers right after putting this thing on,” Marcello added, “we'll have everyone's solemn attention, it's going to be a complete hypnotic show.” Marcello's dick started rising again with the thought of merging with the Zets powers. He didn't know who they were or where they came from, but that vision was real enough for him to try this. – PE class did a round of ultimate Frisbee in the muddy, rainy afternoon, so it was easy for the class to take time to shower after class. As the guys and girls separated, Marcello, Daniel and Larry gave themselves long glances as they rethought their plan from earlier. Larry would carry in all three artifacts under his towel and the three guys would be the last to walk in. No one ever took the shower-head next to Evan because he immediately started fighting with them, so Marcello knew it would be the perfect time to corner him. Daniel and him would take the shower head next to Evan and when he started fidgeting Daniel would corner him, giving him room for Marcello to place the artifact on his crown jewels. The guys lined onto their lockers and stripped of their PE uniforms. Marcello asked Daniel, “this might be the last time we're clothed,” as he pulled off his compression shorts. “The Zets were naked warriors, you remember what we saw yesterday?” Daniel nodded peeling down his own compressions and removing his t-shirt, “I love being naked, that's why we were chosen. That's why were the men in 'True Form' heheh.” Larry unfolded his towel and the three naked jocks set their artifacts into the towel, larry closing it. The three of them walked toward the shower corridor, hearing already Evan taunt and bother everyone near him. He was singing his song “You're a piece of shit...” something he made up while he flung soap onto every guy bypassing him. He would get shoves from the bigger guys around him, but nothing to really stop him from his menacing behavior. Daniel took the showerhead to the right of Evan as Marcello parked himself next to Daniel. Evan turned around to look at the two jocks and smiled, “Clean up, bitches!” he shouted, throwing his soap bar onto Daniel's forehead. His face quit smiling, however, when Daniel approached him. Daniel shoved the smaller Evan into the corner as Evan kneed him in the naked dick. “Ah, shit!” Daniel said between breaths, “you're...gonna, fuckin pay for that!” Larry unrolled the cup from his towel outside the gang shower and tossed it like a frisby toward Marcello, catching it easily with one hand. “What the fuck are we doing here, guys? Maybe we should let Evan alone, he's just a little twerp.” Marcello said. Larry shook his head no as he joined Daniel in holding the little guy in the corner of the shower with one hand. “Stay put you, we have a purpose for you,” he said before turning his attention back to Marcello. “Dude, we made a pact last night, this thing is centuries old and the ceremony requires it to be this way. You were the chosen one. Just try it on.” Marcello's surroundings drifted away as he stared into the intoxicating void within the cup. It seemed to encircle his mind with its power, its neverending attractiveness. “Okay,” He said looking back ath the jocks. Turning around he noticed the guys around him starting to look over Marcello's shoulder. Wondering what he had in his hands and what he was doing with hit to Evan. Marcello had reached the point of no return, if this didn't work he would be screwed, probably expelled, if it did work all of their lives were going to change forever. He lowered the cup toward his package. “You're the man!” Daniel shouted, “put it on and show Evan who's the boss.” Evan couldn't stop from taunting the lanky tall guy in front of him. “You're fucking idiot, Marcello.” he said, “when that thing makes you look like a dork I'll be the one tackling you to the ground.” Marcello's heart started racing as he pushed the cup closer to his dick, he could hear a voice begging him too, promising to reward him of powers he had never before imagined. He turned toward Daniel with a smile on his face. “You gotta look at Evan. You're tall enough to corner him don't look at me, dude!” Daniel said, remembering the instructions carefully, and carefully trying not to get himself hurt. “Point your artifact toward him!” Marcello turned back to the naked Evan, preoccupied with trying to fight Larry off of him. “As soon as it goes on, I'm backing away, look right at Evan,” Larry added, ignoring the little guy fidgeting with his arm. Marcello took a step closer to him, the two men, though both naked, couldn't have been more different. Evan was a feisty, underdeveloped, loud, menacing looking kid who pushed what little weight he had around to disturb and annoy as many people as possible—common short man syndrome traits; while Marcello was tall, skinny, hairy, quiet and had a secret and quiet strength to him, his muscles just barely defined underneath his dark, bronze skin. “Just stay still for me, Evan, this will be over in a minute,” Marcello said, chucking, his legs switching, his body asking him to put on the powerful artifact. As expected, the cup suctioned onto his dick and peeled itself onto his balls as soon is laid against his body “Woah!” Marcello shouted as it began folding over his package, the wooden and bone artifact liquifying itself into a putty-like mass as it spread over his balls and deep into his crevices between his legs. Marcello started feeling it around on his balls; his first reaction was to pull it off, the substance was menacing, disturbingly scary even, but he remembered what he heard last night, what the ceremony required, what he needed to continue to do. The cup stretched around his dick and up his pubes and started cracking like dry sticks, pieces of wood quickly liquifying into a puddle of soft energy, the power finally breaking free from its mold. The energy was surging his body with new thoughts, dark thoughts that he had never before even dreamed of; thoughts of evil, of dominance, of being a master of all things. The thoughts flooded his mind incomprehensibly, but he was surprised to find he could somehow make sense of it, though he could also feel his humanity leaving him, emotions and empathy falling away into purpose and control. He didn't mind at all, it was making him happier than he had ever been before. He was the Man! He was the hottest shit around, he told himself. He had a newly-formed purpose and an ability formerly inconceivable before now. Marcello loved the act of getting naked with his buddies, but this somehow felt different. He felt as if being naked and putting on this artifact of an all-powerful race was perfectly meant for him. And the energy filling him seemed to agree as well. Marcello watched the mass fold outward toward his legs and between them to his ass crack. The liquid energy pushed like puddy out to his waist and began branching around his skinny butt, stretching over it like a pair of briefs. Or a loincloth. Marcello was happy to witness it, he felt great, he loved being naked and loved having the attention of his friends right on him. The ceremony had a purpose and the purpose was to push the naked powers of the Zets into Marcello himself. Marcello let his hands go from the cup and enthusiastically allowed it to envelop him. As the artifact started cracking and liquifying, a dark green light started flashing like a spotlight at a stage, a bright, directional light. He could feel its purpose exactly. “Evan, of course!” Marcello told himself. His victim! His sacrifice. He directed his dick toward Evan and let out a scream of pleasure, a foreign and frightening sound, a mix between a shrieking horse and a deep, low rumble of thunder. Marcello's back twisted in the direction of Evan and his foot automatically stepped toward his victim, Marcello moving automatically, the power itself now directing him. His hips rocked forward as the putty thined around his ass, connecting on his backside. Marcello's dick was now clearly visible behind the thin powerful substance, and electric green light flashing right onto Evan. Evan, for the first time, had a flash of horror cross his mind. Up until this point he thought he had a silly prank he could play on the naked jocks. But for the first time, a strike of fear hit him as the green light felt like an oven wave of heat flash across his own naked stomach and waist. “What?! Oh my god, get me out of here!” he shouted. The dark green light crossed his bare chest and focused on his waist, lighting it and his small dick with a dark, mossy color. Evan's eyes opened wide with fear and pain. He couldn't look away. Larry and Daniel found themselves in shock and horror as well. Their friend's calm and stable demeanor was quickly turning into pure ferociousness. Marcello took another step toward Evan as the light brightened against Evan. “Oh God!! ARGH!” Evan shouted in pain, tears flowing from his eyes. “What's happening to me!!” Evan looked down at his hands as Marcello's friends and the other PE guys surrounded the scene unfolding before them. Evan's skin was turning gray and pale, he seemed to be aging quickly. Drying out. His skin loosened and dried, cracking like wood. His eyes glassed over as his muscular frame flattened into a skinny, dry twig. Evan's small dick started folding up and into his body as his hair folded back into his skin. His teeth receded as his body stiffened like an old board leaning against the side of a building. His breathing stopped as he froze into place. “Oh my god, it's actually working. Back up, guys, back up!” Daniel shouted. The guys tried backing away but couldn't look away at the horrific scene unfolding. The body that was Evan mummified into a decaying, skeletal corpse as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his hair receded, the flashing green light now completely encompassing the decaying body, hardening into dust. Daniel turned his attention to Marcello as his friend's body started gaining height. His loincloth powered friend walking, in a trance, closer to Evan. “You're mine, human, come to me!” Marcello groaned under his deepening voice. Evan's body started dissolving into a dark green dust as is swept and surrounded Marcello, wrapping over his body like a tornado, folding into the cup as the cup itself wrapped over and wound tightly onto Marcello's loins. “Heh, heh, HAHAHAH!” Marcello started cackling. “Yes, I am complete, the powers, yes THE POWERS!” Marcello's back started cracking and growing as the tornado swept him into a fierce firestorm of power. As it did, Evan's lifeforce entered into his body causing it to explode with power and muscle. His cackling got louder as his body expanded with muscle, sinew wrapping down his tall, dark back and exploding his shoulders and pecs, lengthening his spine and thickening his neck. As he extended his arms his biceps pumped with a thick contours of sinew building a hard rock over his arm and pushing his veins out to his skin. His hands cracked and grew as he turned himself around in his powerful glory to look at his friends. The cup was electricifying over his dick . Marcello's chest pushed out as his nipples grew in size, the light fuzz of chest hair over him growing now growing further, thick and manly down to his quickly deepening abs. Marcello's thin and tight body was pushing out with hard muscle, six well-defined abs separating from each other topped at his pecs and down to his waist, just in time for his quads to tighten and push out, creating football-sized muscles on his upper legs. Marcello started twisting his body more quickly as his hair filled out over his pubes and down to his quads and shins, his lower legs quickly lengthening and growing in size, pushing the jock to 6'6” height. “Oh fuck yes! MORE! MOOORE!” he shouted as his dick started twitching. It lengthened and dropped low as his balls followed suit, the cup stretching with his massive package, his virility growing with his body as his testicles gained weight and mass. Marcello couldn't help but touch it and as he did he felt his circumcised head quickly folded behind his new godly foreskin, regrowing over his dick. Hair grew between his quads and back to his ass as it filled with muscle, matching the power of his thick legs. The material of the cup snapped into tendrils of power as the electricity engulfed Marcello's loins, feeding their way into his body by way of his ass and pecker. Now free to touch, Marcello grabbed his erected dick with force and pulled, each stroke of his hand vibrating his body with surges of masculine pleasure. He couldn't help it nor did he care that he was masturbating in front of his friends, the pleasure was too much. Every pump afforded him a shudder of pure orgasmic pleasure, each pump heightening his sensations and opening his mind to the powers his body was gaining. With every pump Marcello left the confines of human thinking—his formerly stable, mature and sensitive self was giving way to the cup of the Zets, a powerful and corrupted race, Marcello now realized. Marcello all too eager to gain it. But his friends were unfamiliar with the corruption wrecking their former friend. The naked beast started generating a blue electric glow around him and quickly a burst of electric light flashed out of Marcello's crotch as he began to crest, hitting Daniel in the chest, throwing the jock to the other side of the open shower room. Daniel landed on the floor, holding his head. “What the fuck?” he said, trying to get up, dizzied by the burst of power that pushed him. Larry started backing away from Marcello as the transforming god realigned himself toward Larry, throwing another burst of power-laden light onto him, slamming him into the shower wall. “Ugh, fuck,” Larry said, dazed out. The other jocks began to flee the shower corridor, running as quickly as they could away from the transforming god. One jock, Jonathan, couldn't get out of the corridor before the masturbating Marcello grabbed him with his arm, throwing him onto the shower floor. Jonathan's naked butt slammed onto the floor and slid back toward Larry, still trying to lift himself from his own knocked out daze. They stared up at Marcello as his eyes formed now a glowing red. Marcello, or the corrupted god Marcello was becoming, made a menacing smile as the jock's muscular legs began to buckle at the orgasm of his own pleasure. As his quads quivered and knees shaked, Marcello's left hand moved ever faster over his erected dick, droplets of precum starting to drip from his massive head. “What the fuck?!” Larry shouted as he grabbed Jonathan and slid him across the floor. They reached the back of the shower but to his dismay Larry found the rear fenced door shut. He had to remove the padlock, but his hand wouldn't fit through the gate to turn the combo. “Oh shit, we gotta get out of here! HELP HELP US!!” he shouted, Jonathan trying to lift himself up. As soon as he turned around, however, he grabbed Larry's shoulders, “FUCK DUDE!” Jonathan shouted, “he's right behind us!” But to their surprise, Marcello stopped of any further violence. The blue streaks of electric surrounded him completely as he continued to jack off, the human growing further and further in size and strength. Marcello could feel the Zets immortal powers sink into his body, and he was completely content with his new corrupted state. He let out a low groan as his dick began spewing onto the tile floor, volleys of cum landing on the shower floor, “MMM YESS!” he shouted, lost in his own masculine pleasure. The blue streaks of electric power sapped back into its master's body as Marcello let go of his erected dick. Taking the time to examine his new form in all its naked, godly glory. Larry couldn't help but stare, the warrior was perfect, his hair covering his legs and ass, the treasure trail perfectly snaking up to his curly chest, deep adonis belt pointing directly down to his massive package. He was the definition of a masculine immortal. Marcello stretched and smiled in his newfound powers before smiling at Larry and Jonathan at the end of the hall. “Oh Daniel,” he shouted, “it's your turn...” Larry had calmed from the calamity that was happening moments before, but he was afraid to continue onward. Daniel's corruption would be 10x as worse as Marcello's with his enthusiasm for the power already in full force. When coach walked into the shower room to respond to the fear and telling of Marcello's classmates, he sensed the panic and disorder running through the Coach's mind. Marcello reached his arm up and knocked him out, putting him into a tranced sleep so they could continue undisturbed. Daniel walked beside his power-ridden friend, holding his own cup and ready to go. He tossed Larry his III cup. Larry cleanly caught it and stood staring at the artifact, waiting now for his turn, entranced by the powers it held within. “Jonathan,” Daniel said, “you're the only naked one around and I really want these powers.” “What the fuck?” Jonathan asked. “Daniel, wait,” Larry said, “we can find someone else. Jonathan is your friend.” Marcello stopped Daniel. “I locked the doors in the back of the locker room. Everyone is trapped. Go find PJ or Charlie. Jonathan is a naked jock, we will have join join our ranks shortly.” Jonathan felt relieved as he looked into Marcello's eyes, he could feel the powers that Marcello meant to give him. He wanted it more than anything. Marcello forced open the rear gate to the corridor and Daniel stepped casually through to find a victim for himself. Marcello pulled Jonathan toward him and slapped his ass. “You can become a god too, you have the body and the personality.” Marcello realized his new mission, to transform as many humans into Zets as possible, and to spread his new race's powers. He could sense one other man from far away already transformed, and as soon as his two friends met with their powers, they would join up and determine a plan to conquer the humans. Larry watched as Daniel walked the corridor to the lockers and cornered CJ. He lifted the cup toward his now-erected dick, ready to try the powers on for himself. In an automatic motion, Larry grabbed his own cup and followed, ready to be the third.

“Excuse me Sir, could I ask you a question?” I turned from the whiteboard I was wiping down and barely suppressed a grin. It was the same every year since I’d started lecturing. After the first lecture, some dizzy girls, pretty gay boys, and even some not so gay, would come down from the lecture hall to the stage. Pretending to be interested in my topic and coming up with some dumb-ass questions just so that they could get a closer look at me. Enjoy the view from close up. I even played a game each year to see if I could spot this year’s candidates. But I didn’t guess this one. Probably cos he was so fucking small that I didn’t see him in the crowd. This twink must have been no taller than 5’6, baby face with neat black hair. His clothing was neat and well fitted, showing off his tight body. Yes, I could bang him. The thought of my huge body on his made me drift away for a second. Picture in your mind what a typical professor looks like. That’s not me. I’m exactly what you wouldn’t think. Instead I’m what you think if someone said college sports star, except now pack in a high IQ and a genius for finding unusual ways to mimic biochemical reactions. Brawn and brains were at my disposal. Even without trying, my physical presence was impossible to hide – 6’3 and 255 solid. My Italian momma gave me great looks and my Slovak dad gave me a frame designed for muscle physique. I’d softened a little since college rugby days, but body fat still wasn’t too far from single digits. Add to that a fondness for expensive fitted shirts that formed around my torso with just enough give so that it tugged without being too tight. Lats showed just by the right amount and pecs swole nicely to make sure they were an obvious statement. Tailor-made pants that showed off my quads and glutes nicely. I knew I had a great body and I liked to show it off. Hell I loved to show it off. I loved the crowd, listening to my every word. Watching me as I strutted on stage, Taken in by the heady mix of mechanistic biochemistry and by my supreme physical condition. Well let’s be honest; mostly taken in by me. These lucky people had the opportunity to observe a perfect physical specimen. The top 1% of our species. I love the adulation, the feeling of superiority. I usually needed to jerk off within an hour of giving a lecture. The twink asked his question – something sensible as it turned out. As I detailed my reply, I noticed his eyes drift to my arms, biceps swollen in the tight sleeves, or sneaking a glance at my pex. My shirt today, crisp white with a silken sheen – meant that the room lighting accentuated the bulges perfectly. At one point I even saw him just lick the inside of his lips. “That make sense?” I asked in a manner that assumed it did, and moved to go back to my office. “Sure. Yes, em of course. Thank you Sir.” He seemed disappointed that the show was over. But I am a busy man, much in demand. And I had my research group meeting to get to. I loved the feeling of my pants on my legs as I walked – better strutted – back to my office. I was thinking about the student, his eyes darting over my body trying to drink it all in. Dammit, I wish I didn’t have a meeting now. The excessive and obvious adulation made me real horny. Knowing that I was gonna do legs in the gym later and get em even bigger had me even hornier. I got to my office and my research group were waiting. After that the dean needed to see me to talk grants – I was the biggest grant winner in my department by a factor of three – and he wanted me to run a seminar for other faculty. After that I had to talk to some rich parents of prospective students; a special favour to the president. Three dads and indentikit blond-bimbo elbow candy moms all lapping up my every word. By the end I had secured twice the donations the president was hoping for. One of the dads left me his business card with his “direct line” written hurriedly in pen while his wife loitered by the door, urging me to call to discuss future opportunities. I get that a lot. So by the time I was ready to leave for the gym I was super horny. My body felt hyper-energised in the absence of my mid-day jerk off. It was gonna be a supreme workout. I used the college gym. I loved the testosterone of the rugby team, and the eagerness of all the college kids, wanting to “be huge”. I loved how I was a giant among them, even the bigger players. They rarely spoke to me but everyone knew I was there. It was an unwritten rule not to engage me. I took my workouts very seriously. I raked up 450 on the bar to get some juices flowing in squats. High reps meant that my legs gorged full with a pump. I wore my Under Armour shorts for leg day; red and black patterned, nice and tight and my big quads pushed them up high. On top I wore a sleeveless UA tee, silky black; lifting weights even on leg day gives my arms a pump that I love to see. When I workout, I focus on me. My reflection. My reps. The gym becomes a blur. I am in the zone and the zone is to get a pump and to grow. The sound of liquid splashing at my feet broke my concentration. I heard someone squeaking a loud “Fuck!”. I refocused on my surroundings. He was standing next to me. That damn student from earlier. “I’m so sorry Professor, fuck I have knocked over your bottle.” My gym drink – had a lot of electrolytes, along with some extra… “help”. Hey – I’m a biochem prof… I looked at him and wanted to crush him into the ground. He looked like he was going to cry. “I’ll run and get you a refill of water!” Before I could speak, he had my container and was at the fountain. I turned and checked out my legs. Zoning in again on the priority. Me. They had swollen really big with the pump. My UA shorts were shoved right up real high by the swollen muscles. Damn I was getting bigger – people say growth slows in your late 30s. But like everything else, I was proving people wrong. Lost in flexing and checking out my legs, I didn’t notice the twink return. “Daaaamn. Your legs are sooooo…. Massive!” He seemed to have to think about the word. He held out my container. Lord he was so tiny. I thought of myself, mounting him, crushing him under my weight as I fucked him. What was I double his mass? Bending him over some gym bench so we could both see it in the mirror. How fucking huge I was compared to him. Crushing him between my quads, which were getting close to being bigger than his torso. Hell yea. Superior being. Other kids in the gym stared over. They’d never seen anyone talk to me before. Even the big oafs who were closest to me in size never dared. They were watching to see what I would do. What I would say. This puny twink had done something they’d never dared to do. I flexed my quads again, so that they swole up, veins running over them. I waited, watching the full effect dawn on my admirer, and the general audience. Without a word, I slowly turned back to the rack, and pumped out another 20. I got lost again in the blur and didn’t notice my admirer slink back to the aerobics area, watching me closely. Hell, I was so used to people watching me I didn’t even notice anymore. Well. That’s a lie. But I spent the rest of the workout pushing out hard high reps, getting my legs so pumped I could barely walk. I took a slurp of my drink each time. It tasted different than mine, without the electrolyes and my own blends. But it didn’t taste like water. But come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I had just water… I never waste an opportunity to get something into my body. It was hard to leave the gym. My legs were swole and I had to waddle, partly cos they had gotten so pumped, and partly cos there was so little energy left. I loved the feeling, and it added to my horniness. I couldn’t wait to get home. I drove fast, windows down, so the breeze could keep my sweaty body cooler, and dampen the extreme horniness feeling. But no matter how fast, there was always a car behind me, headlights just in my mirror. Even when I put the foot down – and an Audi can go pretty fast – the car behind kept up. I turned into my drive feeling a bit dizzy. Damn that workout was intense. The lights too in my eyes didn’t help. I pulled myself out of the car, easing off the leather seats. As I shut the door, a car pulled into my driveway behind me. The headlights stayed on while the driver stepped out. I could see the outline but immediately I knew – it was that fucking student again! I felt a rush of rage and stepped up to him. The tightness of my legs and the pain of a rushed walk just made me angrier. “Now look kid…!”. I started. “Wow prof, you are so pumped! Jeez look at your size – never seen a bigger man.” I slowed in my tracks, a bit stunned. “Hell yeah!” He continued. “You’re the biggest. And you can only get bigger!” He spoke slowly. Deliberately. He seemed tiny. I felt huge. He was right. I was so freaking huge. Unstoppable and he knew it. “Let’s go inside and see what you’re packing Big Guy.” Yeah I wanted to show it. That’s what it’s all about isn’t it? Love the attention. Adulation. I opened my door and he followed me in. “Show me where you flex big man. Let’s see the show.” I was so horny I couldn’t think straight. I NEEDED to display. To show off my body. All my hard work. Fuck I am superior and I gotta show it. I walked to the ground floor room that I called my trophy room. I had a couple of mirrors there, some basic barbells for a pump, and my trophies from sports and competitions. I loved flexing there, amongst the golden statues. “Oh yea Big Man, this is perfect. Look at you - you have the trophies to prove it. Fucking big alpha man isn’t that right? Hell yeah big man. Let’s see those guns – what are you packing there?” I turned to the mirror. All I wanted was to show. To display. To hear approval and adulation. “Fucking packing 21 inch calibre guns.” I spoke to no-one and everyone. I spoke to my reflection, flexing a double bi, totally focussed on my arms. I loved how they swole. They were pumped from working out and my forearms were super veiny. I felt his hands on them. Rubbing them from behind. A film of sweat made them glisten in the light, and his hands ran over them smoothly. “Fuck Big Man you are so huge. Those guns are the biggest I’ve ever seen. You gonna get them bigger? Damn they are gonna be so freaky? Tell me Big Man. Tell me how huge they will be.” “Ah yea… want them bigger. Big freaky gunz… everyone starin’, love the swell of my arms. Pump em up nice and big.” Take some more liquid man – we gotta keep this body fuelled and hydrated. You want to grow more don’t you?” I took the container and guzzled it back. Yea I need to keep fuelling. Need to keep growing. I tossed it to the floor and flexed again. Damn my bis looked so fucking hot. I need him to say it. “Tell me how big my bis are.” I tried to command, but it came out as a plea. “So huge man… but we’re gonna get them bigger aren’t we?” And then he said it again: “You’re the biggest. And you can only get bigger!” Ah yea… my dick was aching now in the compression pants. “You need roiding and fuelling big man. Trust me. I can make you grow. I can get you bigger. And that’s what you want isn’t it?” He was rubbing my crotch as he spoke. All I could see was muscle – my huge muscle… feeling bigger, year I would get bigger, need to flex, need to show it all… freak huge specimen… aw yeah damn I am gonna blow… fuck I am gonna be huge… feel the guns… tell me how huge I aaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmmm…. I shot a huge load into my shorts, he kept rubbing, squeezing my balls draining every drop…. I fell to my knees with the output of energy, legs completely exhausted. He stood behind me, not much taller. Facing the mirror he grinned at my kneeling muscular body. “Oh yea big man. You’re the biggest. And you can only get bigger!”

SEED - Part 2 Jack was starting to lose himself again due to the power of the aroma that was covering the wing of Jason’s hospital floor like a thick luscious fog. His cock, if possible, was even harder than it had been back at the farm and it felt as if every part of his body was building up into a sexual frenzy that he knew he soon would not be able to control. He contemplated leaving and going back down the elevator, when he saw a box of surgical masks on the floor. Hopeful that it would help, he picked one up and put it on. Even though he was still incredibly horny he was able to regain some more control of his body. The fabric of the mask must have been filtering just enough of the aroma to let him keep his wits, but his yearning for an orgasm was still at an incredible level and he didn’t know how long he would be able to keep from completely succumbing to the feeling he was feeling. To describe the feeling, would be like he was right on the edge of a constant orgasm that never let up. It was combined by an incredible desire to have someone fuck him both in his ass and mouth. He knew that if the mask came off, he would completely fail to resist the feeling and be a pawn in this euphoric atmosphere. Part of him screamed to rip the mask off and just relish in the erotic abyss, but he knew he needed answers. He knew he had to help his uncle. So, after surveying the environment of the hospital wing, he began to walk down the hall toward Jason’s room. Along the way, he noticed drug carts on their sides, holes in the walls, broken glass everywhere and a very sticky substance on the floor and walls. Basically he thought it looked like a war zone. As he passed by the various rooms that were open, it seemed weird and ominous that there were only a very few people there and even stranger, that they all were men. There wasn’t a woman to be seen. As well, each one of them seemed to be in some sort of trance. He figured it was the same type of trance as he had experienced it himself. Their eyes were open, but their faces were of euphoric expressions and they were in a constant heightened state of orgasm. All of them were naked and as Jake looked down their bodies, it was very visible that each of them had been having various episodes of orgasms as cum covered most of their bodies and beds. Also, their cocks were at a constant state of full erection; some just slowly spurting or oozing out more cum. They weren’t frozen in their beds, but they were writhing around and sexually touching themselves, by pinching their nipples, stroking their cocks and fingering their assholes. He felt envious. Jack also noticed in some of the rooms and on the floor of the hallways, orderlies, male nurses, doctors and every man that he had seen was in the same euphoric coma. Jake knew that if his mask were to come off, he would be joining them. He checked the straps to make sure they were good and tight, but something in the back of his mind just wanted to untie the straps and to join the men and he even had a burning desire to suck and fuck them as a few of them had found each other and were fucking to no abandon. He shook his head to get the thoughts out. He stepped over and around the mass orgy of men and as he grew closer to where he thought was Jason’s room, he tread even more cautiously. He was afraid that his uncle must have been somewhere around to cause this as Jack had figured that he caused what happened to him on the farm. He remembered when he saw his uncle tear off into the fields and he wondered if he had made it to the hospital first. He feared for Jason as well. He hoped that Jason would have been able to help him with the situation, but if he was in the same state as these men, then all hope may have been lost. Just as a depression about that began to set in, Jack saw a few other nurses and doctors who were actually walking in and out of what should have been Jason’s room down at the end of the hall. He thought, “Oh thank God…At least some of them are still…well…them.” These men all had their clothes on but there were definite wet stains around their crotches, where they must had fallen victim to his uncle’s desires. Stranger still was that the closer he got to Jason’s room, he noticed that the nurses and doctors, all male of course, looked to be of their own minds and none of them were wearing masks either, so how was it that they weren’t totally incapacitated like the others. They were all larger in size than the rest of the men that were in the euphoric state. Their clothes were very tight across their bodies and even some of their clothes were torn where it looked as though their muscles had pushed through. All of them looked as large as guys who had spent years at the gym or on a stage. None of them were as large and obscene as his uncle, but all of them were definitely buff and in various sizes of muscle and thickness. They were bodybuilder, power lifter, and bouncer looking. Even a few of them were shirtless and two of them were actually completely naked with massive bodybuilder bodies that had even larger muscles and cocks that must have been well over 8 inches, soft. Jack’s still hard cock shot precum out of it as he saw them. It seemed that those two men, one being slightly smaller than the other, were the leaders of the other men that he could see, with the larger one being the boss. He noticed that a few of the other’s had called them both doctor, but he couldn’t make out their last names. Jack stopped dead in his tracks and watched the men. He stared at them as they moved around and in and out of Jason’s room, and some were carrying large containers. He leaned against the wall and looked intently at how their muscles moved and flexed as they moved. He noticed the power in their arms and their asses pushing the fabric of their scrubs to the limit. All of them were definitely packing as huge bulges pushed out their pants or underwear. A few of them would walk by each other and briefly stop and kiss deeply, encircling their tongues and feeling each other’s bodies. Jack was completely transfixed on them. His own hands began to feel under his shirt and his right hand found his nipple. He squeezed it and moaned quietly to himself. He watched their wet crotches and the huge shafts of the two naked muscle Gods and his mouth began to moisten. His breathing rapidly began to increase and his other hand found his own mound in his pants. He squeezed his rock hard cock and he moaned out loud this time. Behind him, to the left, he noticed a large oblong knob of a drawer and he moved in front of it and deliberately pressed the knob into the crack of his ass as he began to move his hips back and forth. His eyes closed and visions of his uncle fucking him from behind began to send Jack over the edge. He grabbed the desk in front of him and pushed harder into the knob. He pushed so hard that he could feel the knob pushing against his hole, pushing the fabric, demanding entrance. He unknowingly called out, “OH GOD YES…FUCK ME!” This caused him to open his eyes and he saw the larger naked muscle god start to walk over to him. He watched with pleasure as he could see that the man’s cock was growing and getting hard and massive, ending at a full mast of well over 12 inches, which only made Jack’s insatiable desire even heighten. He nodded his head to the stud while licking his lips. He wanted this. He needed this more than ever. There was nothing that he craved more. He knew for some reason this isn’t why he had come here, but he didn’t care. It was all that he desired. The filter of the mask was failing. His constant fucking of the knob had caused the fabric of his shorts to begin to give way and to his wonderful surprise the knob broke through smashing hard into Jack’s willing hole as he let out a cry of joy. “OH JESUS!! YES!!” Instantly, as if by instinct, he feverishly began to fuck the knob in and out of his asshole. The knob was about 5 inches long and it looked like a butt plug with the middle of the knob being the thickest part and it perfectly fit into Jack’s hungry ass. It was the best feeling he had ever felt before. The most he ever had was his hands to pleasure himself, whether it be jerking his cock or teasing his hole, but he had never experienced anything even remotely inside him and it was amazing. Jack was a 26 year old virgin. The muscle God was now in front of him and Jack looked up at him the towering 6.5 foot man and nodded his head, saying one word as he begged, “Please!” The man smiled and nodded in acceptance so Jack took one of the man’s large quarter sized nipples into his mouth and he began to suck on it, flicking it with his tongue and nibbling it as he sucked like a baby starving for its milk. This caused the muscle god to moan loudly and he grabbed Jack’s head pushing his face hard into his granite chest. Feeling the sheer power of the man, made Jack feel like he knew it was his job to please this man and to be his servant and he was willing to give his body to do so. Jack was accepting that he was a muscle pig. He sucked feverishly on the man’s entire chest going from pec to pec, to nipple, to flexed bicep, to abs to pit, licking and worshiping the muscle that was before him. As he sucked and worshiped the huge torso, the man picked up Jack’s lower body raising his feet off the ground and he began to help the knob fuck him harder and harder. The man tore Jack’s pants more to ease in the knob’s dominance of Jack. As he went back on forth on the knob, Jack began to scream out in complete pleasure and then he pleaded to suck the man’s cock. As soon as Jack pleaded for the man’s cock, the man pushed Jack’s head down and he felt the mask come off as he opened his mouth as wide as he could. He no longer cared about succumbing to his uncle’s aroma. His only desire and will was to serve the man in front of him. He was now this man’s property. He opened his mouth as wide as he could as he barely fit the man’s giant prick into his mouth. This was the first cock that Jack had ever had in his mouth, but it was like he had been doing it for years. It was as if it was instinct. Even though the sides of his mouth hurt, he didn’t care. He licked under the head with his tongue and he inched himself lower and lower sinking the man’s cock deeper into him causing the man himself to reach a frenzied pitch of euphoria. The man held Jack’s head as he fucked the boy’s face. By this time, a group of some of the other muscled men had walked over to the scene and had disrobed all of their clothes as they were stroking intently on their larger than normal shafts. The men’s voices were deep and low as they egged on Jack and his new master, the boss. They pulled off Jack’s shirt and a couple of them began to touch Jack’s chest, squeezing his nipples. Hands and mouths were all over Jack’s body and the feeling was incredible. As Jack feverishly sucked the bosses cock, the other smaller naked muscle man pulled him off of the knob with a pop and he took off Jack’s pants and all of the rest of his clothes. Then he replaced the knob with the tip of his cock. Before he could enter Jack, the Boss, put his hands around Jack’s waist and picked him up, twisting him around upside, keeping his cock in Jack’s mouth, and then for the first time, Jack’s felt what it was like to have his cock in someone’s mouth. The smaller god began to kiss Jack’s ass and then he began to lick his freshly fucked hole, with a tongue invading where the knob used to be. This was more than Jack cold take and within only a few moments Jack exploded into his partner’s mouth. He thought that the orgasm at the farm was the most he had ever cum but this time it was so powerful and long lasting that Jack could literally feel his balls emptying out and along with his identity. He was now becoming like the others and he didn’t care. Oddly enough, his insatiable desire, did not subside after his orgasm, in fact, it seemed to make it increase. Jack continued to suck on the boss’s massive cock and the boss turned Jack back around so that his feet were back on the floor. That’s when the smaller god pushed his wet thick cock into Jack’s willing ass. As with the boss, the smaller god took charge of his end of Jack. He fucked Jack hard and passionately, moving in and out around pushing his cock in as far as he could go and then tease Jack’s ass with the massive cockhead right at the opening of his ass. For what seemed like an eternity of bliss, the two men fucked Jack from both ends, just as he had desired earlier. Neither of them spoke a word, but Jack knew that he was there boy, their play thing and he couldn’t have been happier. They made no commands to him, they just were in charge. It was almost telepathic in nature; Jack would just realize that he needed to lick the boss’s balls and then concentrate on the cock head for a while. Jack knew when to back into the smaller man’s cock so that he was doing all the work and then he would clinch his ass just right to make the smaller man moan in ecstasy. The three of them were a well-oiled machine of premium sex. They remained constant like this for more than an hour, never ebbing, only increasing. Then Jack knew it was time to make his owners cum, he simultaneously worked on the boss’s cock giving him long deep insertions into his mouth all the while tonguing the underneath of the cock, which he instinctively knew was the boss’s favorite. As well, he tightened up his ass like a vise and pulsated his fuckhole to make his 2nd master go wild. Meanwhile, the onlookers where firing off their own orgasms and covering the three with their cum, soaking their bodies with warm electrifying energy. As the pinnacle neared, both of his masters began to moan louder and he could literally feel their rising orgasms as he himself was on the verge of a euphoric explosion. First to cum was the boss. With one final thrust so that his cock was entirely down Jack’s throat, he erupted shot after shot, down into Jack’s gut. There was so much cum that was filling him up; Jack could feel his stomach push tighter against his skin as it filled to capacity. Then just as strong as the boss’s orgasm, his other master’s cock shot deep into his ass, filling up his intestines and stomach even more. The sensation of having both men shooting deep into him almost simultaneously, caused Jack to have another orgasm of his own, without even trying to touch himself to accomplish the deed. As all three of them continued to cum, Jack’s stomach grew to look like a man with a beer gut hard and full. Amazingly, both men had shot so hard and so far up into Jack, that not a drop escaped his body. Then just as suddenly all three men stopped cumming and Jack realized for the first time, that the mask was now off, but that he was still okay. Then both of his masters simultaneously uttered their only words, “I am so very proud of you Jack, you have taken the first step to becoming part of the plan and you will be at my side, changing humanity forever. Take in the gift you have been given and then come to me and be at my side. Your uncle will be joining us soon.” Jack realized the voice that came out of the two men. It was Jason. Suddenly, Jack felt his stomach begin to gargle and he could feel the cum begin to absorb into him, Then he began to feel very different. He felt more alive and have felt stronger…a lot stronger. He grabbed ahold of the boss to steady himself as he felt heavier. His cock actually began to grow even though it was already rock hard. His balls began to fill and grow as well. Jack could feel his chest expand and his nipples became super sensitive. Both pecs filled up as if pumped up with air, but what he felt fill them was strength and power. His back began to widen as his traps grew around his thickening neck. His arms filled with power and grew to be just shy of his boss’s arms that were on either side of him. He flexed his upper arms and marveled in the bulbous power they produced. He felt massive and superior. He let go of his old masters and he stood up, realizing that he was now taller than both of them at around 7 feet. His upper body was not larger than that of the smaller god and he turned to him and smiled as he now was superior to him. He grabbed the smaller man’s face and kissed him hard, causing the smaller guy to moan in submission to Jack. This made Jack feel in more superior. He turned to the larger god and he could see that the demeanor of him was now that of a subordinate. He grabbed the man’s ass and pulled him into him and he kissed him even more passionately than the first. The boss moaned and literally shot a small amount of cum onto Jack. Jack looked at the man and pointed to the cum running the length of his new hugely endowed cock. The man immediately bent down and licked his own cum off of Jack and then put Jack’s cock in his mouth to clean him off. Jack moaned himself and he listened as his voice had lowered many octaves to that of a thundering bass. He stood the man back up to his feet and picked him up in the process. The feeling of power coursed through his entire body, even his toes and fingers felt powerful. His looked down at his legs as they continued to build upon themselves and his thighs pushed together, causing his growing cock and balls to push out further in front of him. As his cock was pushing out in front, his ass filled up with strength and muscle and pushed outward, becoming two hard melons. What was once a soft pliable ass was now harder than rock and each cheek caved perfectly in on the sides, creating the perfect muscle butt. Not only were there growth and changes on the outside of Jack, but he felt his core strengthen along with his mind. He was sharper and more in tune with himself. His senses were heightened. He was able to smell even more of the pungent odor, actually dissecting the different ingredients in the aroma like, testosterone, various types of pheromones, pollens and proteins. He noticed that instead of it making him into a sexually incapacitated lump; it invigorated him and made him feel unstoppable. His eyesight increased as well and he welcomed the light as it cleared his vision for him to see much further with more clarity. He was also able to hear everything that anyone was saying, even on some of the other floors. Then they feeling of power increased in his skeletal and blood systems. His bones strengthened to that of tree trunks and his blood cells accelerated his heart beat that strengthened his immunity and help to soon make him indestructible. His nerves were heightened and he could literally feel what others were feeling. He could physically feel the attraction that others, like the previous masters were given him. It made his skin tingle and it fueled even more power inside of him. Everything that was happening was making him better, stronger, bigger and more superhuman. His brain as well, increased in strength as he was beginning to hear what others were thinking as well. His former muscle boss was now wishing for Jack to fuck him and Jack could feel that deep in his mind he was actually begging for it. So Jack decided to do an experiment. He thought about how he could make the man feel like Jack was actually fucking him with physically doing the act. He thought about what it would feel like to fuck the muscle god and then it happened. Jack wasn’t sure how he did it, but he just tried to project what he felt and what was in his mind as to how he would fuck the man and he saw this once mammoth boss, begin to moan as if he was slowly being fucked. Jack increased the intensity in his head and the man screamed out in pleasure as if Jack were actually fucking him. The boss’s eyes rolled back in his head and he started begging at the top of his lungs for Jack to fuck him harder. Jack thought it and the man, yelled “FUUUUUUUUUUCK” and shot stream after stream of hot cum all over the hallway. Jack just smiled and licked his lips, reveling in his new gifts that he had been given. Then as his change began to subside, the final bit of increased power and strength hit him as he felt stronger inside his crotch area as his Kegel muscles tightened and gained size and strength, actually pushing his taint down further. This cause the biggest wave of pleasure throughout Jack’s body causing him to growl so loudly that the walls shook. He now knew why his previous masters were able to shoot so hard and far into him. He decided to try out a second experiment. He looked over at the smaller muscle god and he gazed into the stud’s eyes as he commanded, yet again with his mind, that the man get on his knees and began to suck Jack’s newly improved 14 inch cock. To his astonishment, the man licked his lips and knelt in front of Jack’s massive frame. He took over half of Jack’s cock into his willing mouth and pushed it down into his throat. The man grabbed Jack’s ass and started fucking his own mouth with Jack. Within a few minutes Jack was nearing an orgasm that never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined. He grabbed the man’s head and held it there as he began to fire explosively into the man, which actually was shooting at such velocity that it was starting to tear apart the man’s oral cavity like bullets. Jack released him as the man shot back against the wall with a loud thud, and Jack knew the man was dead, but this didn’t stop Jack from cumming. His cock stopped shooting rounds off, but instead manifested into a huge steady stream of cum that was soaking everything and everyone with 20 feet of him. Jack roared at the top of his lungs as emptied his load everywhere. Inside his head, he heard 2 voices saying “Yes my son.” and “You are now ready for us.” He knew that they were Jason and his Uncle Roy. When he finally started to come down from the orgasm, he looked around and saw the larger muscle man, along with the other minions lapping up all of his cum that they could get. It was a frenzy of debauchery. He looked down the hall and yelled out in earnest, “JASON!!” “Yes, Jack…you may now see me!! You are now worthy!! Please come and join us, we have much to discuss!! PART 3 coming next week (As with before, your comments would be great!)

As we both sat in the Sauna, I could tell there was an attraction between us. Me, the gym rat, tight and fit with some sexy hefty mounds of muscle where they were needed most. Him, the huge hairy power lifter thick with muscle all over him, and a nice layer of bulk on top of that. There were about 5 other guys in the sauna with us, but they all seemed oblivious to what was going on, at first. I never had the hots for a bear or big thick guys. I always went after the tight, fit, cut gym rats like myself. Maybe it was the heat mixing with the testosterone in his sweat that was filling my nostrils with a pungent sent of desire and maleness. As we sat there, looking each other up and down, assessing what the other was all about, I got the sense that this was not going to go my way but I still tried to assert my normally irresistible hypermasculinity. Very quickly , there was no doubt from anyone in that steam room as we were not being very secretive about our posturing toward each other. The other guys in the small wooden room were getting quite a show of an animalistic courting, Most of them tried to avert their eyes as much as possible, but I could see that they would sneak in a look every now and then, some even adjusting their growing cocks. It was like a mating documentary of two Alphas from different packs. Secretly thought, even with my Gorilla like flexing and rubbing the engorged muscles of my chest and arms, hiding my actions with falsities of stretching, I couldn't help but feel like I was not "The" Alpha Male here in this game. Normally, I usually had the other little fauna eating out of my rough callused hands, causing them to swoon like the little muscle worshipers they were, but this grizzly was definitely not the subordinate in this forest of heat, wood, muscle and sweat. As I had said, I was quite the cut and muscular specimen, but even with all of my muscle, this bear titan dwarfed me. Sitting there, this guy towered over me at least a foot or more. His shoulders from end to end must have been about 3 feet across. His upper arms looked like it had swallowed a small basketball. His chest and upper torso, I could figure, was at least 55 inches around and his nipples were as large as half dollars with tips that were larger then a nipple on baby bottle. He was covered in a coat of fur over his entire super thick torso, forearms and back. Each strand of hair was coarse like mini trees on rolling massive mountains of muscle, When I looked at his face, all I could see was every picture of Paul Bunyan that I had ever seen. His lips, that were fuller than Jagger's, boar through the carpet of dark face fur. They glistened with the moisture of a combo of sweat and saliva, occasionally licked by a red python that would slowly emerge from it's liar smelling it's impending prey as it helped to re-moisten the cave entrance. Then, as I looked up his worn, chiseled cheekbones, I stopped at his eyes. The brows were super bushy and dark, but not in a uni-brow. Each thick caterpillar sat on it's roof of the housing of the most amazing Caribbean Sea deep blue eyes. The electrified oculars weren't only hypnotic, but endless in their depth and control over everything they looked at. A mass of authority blazed from them and even with all my self assurance, I was lost in their endless victory over my will and pride. In truth, there was no battle for dominance because this beast had his kill before his prey even knew it was dinner. Even as I knew I was killed and about to be eaten by this incredible victor, I never felt so alive and full of a harmonious peace, before. I was beaten, but in an orgasmic bliss from the battle. My inner desires were at the hottest blazing temperature and I welcomed the fire that was rising inside of me. I think that it was a combination of his size, smell and authoritative manner that was hitting every erogenous zone in me. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop, my increasing desire with every breathe. There was absolutely no interference from me getting one of the hardest erections I ever had in my life. I tried to push it down between my legs and covered it with my towel, but he knew his power over me had fertilized my inner being of carnal lust and he toyed with it. I was so hard it felt like I was going to explode before anything physically would happen. I could see it in his eyes that he knew I wanted him. He almost smirked at how easy it had been for him to control me. Then, as if to taunt me even further, I watched in awe as he opened up his towel and I got my first vision as his cock began to thicken and lengthen. At first, he sat towards me so only I could see his cock as he gave me a private show. Because, I’m sure if the other men would have seen it, they would have either run for the hills or pounced on him, and I don’t think he wanted to share with them. This was for me. I was his target. His cock, soft, was as thick as screwdriver handle, but as it plumped up, it grew to the size of a small baseball bat. It was easily 7-8 inches long and probably around 7 or more inches around. Slowly, as if to show me it’s teeth, the head glistened as it emerged out from under it’s hood. I licked my lips uncontrollably and I could see his whole cock was actually pulsating with every gush of blood that ran into it. Amazingly though, I could tell that it wasn’t fully hard and that scared and excited me even more. The other men in sauna, seemed to show interest in the bear and I, but it was mostly out of curiosity. Some took off their towels and you could see that they were getting excited, some kept their towels on and groped themselves showing small tents. But, when they didn’t seem to get a response from either the bear or I, they would get up and leave. This happened a few times, but he never got fully hard as other men would come in and out of the sauna. Then, after about 20 minutes, when we had chased the last of the bystanders away, one of the employees and one of my faithful worshipers, Jordon, peaked his head in and said that it was closing time. He must have gotten a look at the bear’s cock, because his eyes jumped wide open and then he licked his lips, turned his head and smiled at me asking if I’d lock up. I said yes and gave him the look of, “Okay, you can leave now.” Jordon chuckled and threw me the keys and said he’d lock the door behind him. Since I was the owners son, I could stay as long as I wished. Shockingly, The Bear began to cover himself and get up as if he was going to leave and I motioned for him, to sit back down, telling him that it would be just the two of us left and he could stay if he liked. The light’s outside of the sauna in the locker room dimmed and we knew we were alone. That’s when this thick papa bear’s cock really sprang to life. He must have released any inhibitions of holding back, because like a fucking rocket, It grew and grew to be thicker than a one of those extra large “Monster” energy drink cans and longer than a coke bottle. It stood straight out and up even with it’s huge size. It looked way too heavy to be able to stand as straight up as it was....It was just sooo fucking massive!! Both my mouth and ass were watering and pleading to me to get fed. I don’t know if it was the heat or him, but I was feeling really lightheaded and I could literally feel my heart as it pounded in my chest to meet with the throbbing of my cock. As I removed my own towel to finally show him my own thick 8″ rod he smiled, and said, “Nice” and then he looked down at his 14″ long monster and said, “better”. As if on cue, a very large and thick pearly drop of precum jeweled up on the tip of his massive head. Instinctively, I threw my towel on the floor and knelt between this colossal beast’s legs. My hands landed on his rock hard powerful thighs and I could feel the power of him beneath my touch. I tried to squeeze them , but it was like squeezing a petrified log. I quickly opened my mouth and let his precum fall onto my tongue before it would be wasted on the hot wood slats below us. It was surprisingly thick as cum and as I tasted his salty goodness, I swear I literally felt electrified by it. Waves of incredible pleasure overcame me and my cock jumped as an incredible hunger rose in my entire body. I opened my mouth wider and took in the thickest man I have ever attempted to suck off. My mouth stretched to almost beyond it’s limits and I thought my lips would split at the sides, but I was able to take him in me. Little by little I was able to get more and more of him into my mouth and with each downward movement of my head I felt more and more passion course through me. I have never wanted a man more in my entire life. What the fuck had I been missing all these years? As I finally got down to fit at least 9 inches of him down my throat, I heard him to begin to growl and moan loudly. My eyes were wild with hunger as much as the rest of me and I happened to look down toward the floor and I saw that I had created my own large pool of precum. “It’s not gonna take much boy, but I’ve got loads and loads for ya…so are you ready for shot number 1?” I nodded and hummed an “Ah huh” and that’s when I felt his huge hands go around and under my arms as he lifted me effortlessly up, twisting me so I was upside down with his cock still in my mouth and my legs on his shoulders. He began to lower me up and down on his cock as he held onto my sides. The man was literally using my body and face like a Fleshjack to fuck me. The power in him was beyond belief and realizing such made me go over the edge as I lost all control and I began to erupt a torrent of cum all over his face, chest, belly and legs. It was literally the strongest orgasm I could ever have remembered having. Even after the cum stopped escaping my cock, I still was having orgasmic convulsions of my whole body. Then I realized, that my lips and oral cavity were numb and I was taking almost every bit of his shaft in and out of my mouth. That’s when the beast began to give me the first incredible orgasm that rose out of him. His whole body began to shake and I eagerly awaited the result. He screamed like an animal in sheer bliss and in a matter of seconds, I literally could feel the force of cum traveling through his cock and as it fired out like a cannon with blast after blast into me. An amazing warmth filled my throat, chest and stomach, but it only slightly ebbed my hunger for him. I had never had anyone cum as much as he did. It was as if the amount of cum that was coming out of that huge body of his was actually a natural thing. Huge body=Huge Cummer. I couldn’t swallow the massive amounts of cum that he was giving me as some of it flowed out of my mouth and down his shaft. When he finished his explosive orgasm, he got up with both of us, kicked open the sauna door and then straddled one of the locker room benches. He picked me up off of his cock, turned me around and sat me on his lap, pushing his huge still rigid cock beneath my balls as it pushed up against my taint and asshole. Then he pulled me to him in a bear hug and kissed me. We kissed long and hard and passionate for about 5 minutes as his frottage of my ass made me become even hornier if that were possible. When he could tell by my moans that I couldn’t take it anymore, he told me to get ready for him. He lifted me up and held me above his vertical rock solid tower cock and he slowly and gently lowered me to just slightly enter me, holding me up like i was nothing but a feather. Little by little he lowered me onto him and If I winced he eased up, letting me get used to his incredible size and then he’d lower me some more. This must’ve took about 10 minutes and the guy never looked like he struggled with my 262lbs of heavy muscle at all. In fact, he seemed to get even more invigorated and stronger. The reason I say stronger was because, as he was getting me acclimated to his cock, I was sucking on his hairy chest and nipples and his chest seemed to get harder and bigger. I’m not kidding. It was simply amazing and unreal at the same time, but I think the bear was actually growing a little. When he finally stopped lowering me, I realized it was because he was now balls deep into me. I literally had all 14 and a half inches of his super thick prick deep into me and there was no pain, only a complete bliss like I had never felt before. Precum was pouring like a faucet out of my own cock soaking both of us. He told me to relax and that he would do all the work!! So, I relaxed my body as much as I could and he began to lift me up and down on him. Starting slow so that he was sure that I was accustom to his size. As my moans got more intense and my ass loosened up to fit him, his speed increased. With every downward movement I began to actually shoot small amounts of precum all over us. Since his cock was so huge it was essentially past my prostate, but with every upward motion he would almost take his cock out, but then thrust down and it hit it causing me to scream in ecstasy and shoot the cascade of precum. I’ve never had a man as big as him in me and I’ve never had a man with so much strength use me as his sex toy. I was a willing but completely powerless participant for this behemoth. He could have done anything to me and I would have complied and realizing that made me to literally let go as I began to, again, uncontrollably cum after only a few more thrusts of his cock up into me. I must have looked in panic at him and he just smiled and said, “No Worries…You’re gonna cum more tonight than you have ever cum in your life…and so am I.” And with that, again I felt the rush of his orgasm travel up his cock and empty into me with so much cum that I literally could feel him filling me up. I know it wasn’t really going into my stomach, but I began to feel so full inside and warm. God, I was so warm with his juice. This beast of a man had completely opened me up to a realm of existence I never knew was possible and I loved every second of it. My eyes had been closed during my last orgasm, but when I opened my eyes to look straight into his and I felt it. It was pure. It was real. It was Love. I knew I loved him. I knew at that moment that He was everything to me. He was everything to all of us. As he gazed back at me, he said, “I know,…I know…I feel it too…We are meant to be. I felt it from you long ago, first when your were in the bassinet at the hospital. Then when I watched you play football, or when you tended to Dad's fields and finally when you first came to Flatbush.” “I love you...Sir” I said and I never had any doubt or worry when those words came out. It was the most natural expression I had every given. “I love you, too. I have for years…'names Matt....I have a little farm just outside of town. You're there now...." He said as he looked deeper into my eyes. "...and I'm your Uncle!!” Steve opened his eyes, sprang up in bed and looked around the dimly lit bedroom. Lying next to him was Lloyd and he was just as amazing as when he first pulled up in the truck. Steve, smiled, not only at the sight of Lloyd, but at the dream he had just had. He fondled his rock hard cock as got up and walked over to look out of the window to the morning that was dawning. He made it. Uncle Matt's Farm. He was finally here. There was a knock on the door. Author's note: I know it seems like a part of the story is missing from where Sam & Jake were about meet Lloyd & Steve out in the woods, but trust me, you will know what happened in that scene very soon. Please tell me what you think so far. I'd really love to hear your thoughts, comments and even wishes for what might happen next. Thanks, NY BEAR!! PLEASE COMMENT BELOW. THANKS.

Hey guys, just wrote my first story in ages. You can also see it here: http://isntthisrad.tumblr.com/post/139389581903/hey-guys-the-photo-of-this-guy-really-inspired-me Hey guys! The photo of this guy really inspired me for some reason, so I just wrote my first original jock transformation story in ages. I’m sort of rushed this out, and I’m not the best writer or proofer, but hopefully you’ll enjoy it. —- “Oh well,” Coach sighed dryly, “guess you’re still a voracious reader”. Fortunately for Coach, Tyler’s favorite reads are now just comic books, nutrition facts, and the colorful pictures on the back of cereal boxes. Perhaps it’s not the more “intellectually stimulating” fair Coach found him holding open while asleep in an empty subway car at the end of the “A” line in Far Rockaway, Queens, but it’s all intellectual stimulation Tyler needs to be the amateur wrestler he now thinks he wants to be. Coach successfully neutralized the hipster in Tyler’s brain and body. He no longer poses a threat to blue-collar communities in his hunt for “authenticity” and ironic “cool”. Instead, Tyler is a seamless part of the community and Coach’s gym. From a square peg in a round hole, to a round peg in a round hole. Tyler suddenly looked up from his favorite box of whey-infused cereal with a pained expression and turns to the once-complete stranger he now fully accepts as his Coach and sole authority. Furrowing his brow with simian confusion, he struggles, “Vora… vor-a… voratis…uh… wha?” Coach pulled back and snapped on his stringer tank, “Don’t worry your pretty fucking meathead about it, son. It’s just a stupid fucking word.” “Effing werdz,” Tyler laughed. “…so stupid”. “Yes you are, now” Coach muttered proudly, and with no small amount of relief as they made their way out the door to Coach’s gym. Truthfully though, when Coach first found Tyler, he actually was a voracious reader. Was. He was another one of those sensitive, pseudo-intellectual, ironically-inclined artistic-types who who abandoned suburban USA for the urban-cred of NYC. Hipsters. Over the last few years, Coach was running into more and more of them at the crack of dawn as he got on the train to open his gym for his small, but fiercely dedicated clientele of serious lifters. Every other day seemingly, he’d get on the train at the last stop, and there’d be yet another dirty, pale, scrawny hipster asleep in skinny jeans, hunched over asleep in a book. Always something by some New Yorker writer or This American Life contributor, like it were a billboard for one’s intelligence. For a while, Coach would just wake the dumb sap up. The kid, clearly hungover after a night of full of abandon, wine, and pretension with other hipsters. Dummy thought he need a book to make the time pass, instead he just needed it for a pillow. Coach sees ‘em spalyed out on a seat, book open, marked with drool, nudging the sad sac awake. At first, they freak out at Coach’s behemoth silhouette, then they see the station name and make to run out. “Last stop, kid!” He’d yell, and they’d turn around confused. These kids move here and still don’t understand the subway. “It’s going northbound now, you’re in Queens. Just stay on till your stop.” The kid would get be grateful and bashful and sit back down. “Sheep”, Coach would mutter to himself, sit down, and he’d be on his way. Now see, Coach enjoys a real nice setup, he lives in a fairly affordable, if slightly shabby and tired, beachview apartment. He’s lives just blocks from the Far Rockaway stop on the A train, and crucially, just a couple stops on the train from his own gym near the airport in Howard Beach. His community was an oasis of normal, hard-working, good natured, working-class people. He had full, and uninterrupted access to his own iron, nice views at home, and cheap beer and company down the street. Developers, realtors, and hipsters have yet to really consider his community “cool”, which is always a precursor to new art studios, colorful gyms full of cardio equipment, overpriced coffee shops, farm-to-table restaurants, and artisanal bars with reclaimed wood interiors. Then, six months ago, something snapped. Every morning now he was waking up hipsters on his way to his gym. He had trouble getting them all to listen as they exited thinking they had to switch trains. He feared they might wander out the station, discover his little oasis, and want to colonize it for their own. And then, one evening, at his local drinking hole, some a small pack of skinny, pale, bepladded hipsters walked and just gawked as the looked around the bar going “Cool, this place looks so blue-collar. Sweet!”, and “yeah, shit, it’s so real. It’s like time forgot this place.” It was time for extreme measures, Coach reasoned. Fortunately, the next day, Coach had come up a more humane solution. Instead of waking up a hipster, he rode the train to Howard Beach, and carried the kid to his gym. Coach remembered this dude he met on muscle-growth.org… you know, one of those sites for meatheads and aspiring bodybuilders? Coach felt like he hit a plateau with his gains a couple years ago, and this dude said he was a licensed hypnotherapist, and thought his professional experience could help him break though. And boy was he right! The hypno dude intensified Coach’s focus, his resolve to grow, and broke down his inhibitions and sense of morality. Thanks to the hypno dude, Coach became a huge, happy, neanderthalic HGH experiment. So Coach tied up Tyer in the janitor’s closet and made a synergistic business deal the hypno dude couldn’t refuse. You see, the hypno dude has a side business in selling roids and HGH. His business plan is simple, and Coach an example of a happy customer. With his subtle gift of the gab, he persuades dudes they need roids, and then that they only want to buy from him. That way, he can mark up the product well above market price and make a handy profit. Coach’s deal was simple: Hypno dude would bring his practice into the gym, Coach would pick up a sleeping hipster every morning, hypno dude would brainwash away their educations and personality, replacing them with the personalities and ambitions of hard-working, meatheaded, dumb jocks and athletes. After falling asleep on a subway train, they’d awake in a panic before the weight room’s mirrors, not because of where they were, but because the body before them didn’t look right. For Tyler, as with everyone since, everything he knew about his life didn’t fit the image before him. “What the fuck? Where’s my stringer tank? Okay you fucks, real funny. Get this pansy ass shit off me? Oh shit, Coach! Coach! Aw Coach, look at me, I’m struggling to make any gains lately. Why’m I wearing these skimpy-ass jeans. Fuck you guys, who did this? Real funny.” From there it was easy. Hypno dude rearranged their lives around Coach, he was the only man they thought knew how to build them into the men they thought they were and needed to be. He was to become their world, and loyal clients of hypno dude. So much so, they’d move to the neighborhood to work out with Coach everyday and have hypno dude help administer and manage their cycles – because obviously, they couldn’t handle that kind of organization anymore with their newly shitty math skills. To make money to afford both the gym membership and the supplements, Coach had them work as trainers, operate paid strip cams online. The hypno dude even pushed Coach to operate a premium escort agency out of the gym. Coach wasn’t into it at first, but then the hypno dude removed Coach’s very last scruple, removed all of Coach’s vaunted hetrosexuality, and increased his horniess, dominance, and lust for power. Six months later, Tyler McAvoy, a rising star in amateur wrestling at the community college, woke up in Coach’s bed overlooking the beach. Dawn had barely even broken, moonlight glistened over the incoming waves crashing upon the shore. Tyler crawled out of bed and into the kitchen to finish off his delicious box of whey-infused cereal before what was sure to be an amazing, but grueling, leg day at Coach’s gym. Coach walked in from the shower, pulling on his workout kit for another day at his newly expanded gym. Tyler stood at the counter, engrossed in the funnies on the back of his cereal box, and didn’t even hear Coach enter. Coach just stared and took in the sight of his very buff, successful experiment in hipster neutralization. The first of hundreds now. If you’d never seen how Tyler looked before, you’d never known the kid hadn’t always been just another happy dumb jock coasting by on his looks and muscle. Actually, as soon as Coach got Tyler obsessed with working out several hours every day and becoming a wrestler, it was clear he’d need to compete with a team. After years of giving out free memberships to staff and student athletes at the local community college, Coach was in real good with the athletic department. He was promised Tyler wouldn’t get any hassle about grades as long as he did well in matches. He just needed to find some documentation to enroll the kid. Took a while, but Coach finally found the kid’s old skinny jeans with his old wallet intact. Shockingly, this kid’s licence said he 32 years old! He was grown man who looked like kid. Quite a testament to the anemic vegan lifestyles of the underdeveloped, emaciated pseudo-intellectual pretender he used to be. Luckily for Tyler, he was claimed by Coach and could finally stop pretending, stop hunting for authenticity and meaning, and just live the simple, physically taxing life real men need live happy lives. Being a voracious reader never did anything good for the kid. Now this former vegan nerd is voracious eater, 5-6 small paleolithic meals a day in between workouts and sham classes. If you can believe it, Tyler actually has a major in fine art and minored in science, as Coach discovered by Googling him. Tyler now thinks art is superhero comics and Michael Bay movies. And science, well, that’s now just the supplements that hypno dude give him that magically help him get shredded in the gym. He used to judge a person’s intelligence from their taste in books and vocabulary. Now he knows for fact that the bigger a dude’s muscles are, the smarter he must be about lifting. And as Coach has taught him, that’s the only real intelligence in this Darwinian world. The kid hasn’t forgotten everything about his past. His parents and old friends know where he is – they just think he’s gone insane and the feeling is mutual. He’s cut his ties – Coach is his guardian now, and his life is the gym and wrestling. To Coach’s point of view, he rescued Tyler from a corrosive lifestyle, mindset, and personality that’s all about appropriating a community to his tastes and interests by instead applying the lifestyle and personality of a community onto Tyler. From a cynical liberal hipster, to an obedient, conservative, blue-collar athlete. And you know, a happy, slutty, himbro too. As they walked from Coach’s apartment to the Far Rockaway stop, everyone was gawking jealously at Coach’s slutty, shredded, himbo protege proudly wearing little else other than his super tight and compression shorts and stringer. They walked onto the subway platform a train was making its terminus before going back the other way. The doors slid open in front of Coach and Tyler. As they walked in, like clock work, there was another pale, hungover hipster asleep in a novel – another lucky nerd about to be unwittingly rescued from a life he didn’t know he hated, welcomed into a fraternity of muscle. And the cycle continues…

Chapter 3 - The Gift of My Re-Birth The second the warm glow of the headlights hit my face, I felt better. I was so glad that he was here and I could just hop in and tell him to “go, go, go”. I didn’t want to see my father anytime soon and the sorrow and loneliness that would be on my mother’s face was going to be a little too much to bear. My clothes felt tighter. My gym shorts were literally hugging my ass with skin tightness due to the pulling of my hardening cock. My tank shirt was slowly tearing at the seams, centimeters at a time, as it was straining to hold me in as well. God this felt so fucking good, but I had no control of it at all. Even though I was still so angry at my father, I felt like a million bucks. My body did whatever it felt like doing. I wondered that if my intense emotions inside had triggered this new growth spurt, and if calming myself down, would make me return to normal, just like David Banner? I tried to think of anything neutral, but my clothes just felt tighter. I ran around the front of the truck and I peered into who was driving the Ford F150. The figure behind the wheel was huge and he literally filled over half of the front seat. My god, this was my Uncle? The door opened from the inside and pushing it was the most massive hand and arm I had ever seen. Some fear, more over an intense desire took over and my shirt tore a little more. “Come on and get in and let’s start this thing right, little man,” the extremely deep bass voice said from inside. “Sure, let’s get outta here, I’m done with this place. They’re driving me nuts and I’m not little.” I exclaimed with a renewed confidence, as I threw my stuff in the back bed and jumped in the passenger side. As I stretched to get in the big 4x4 I heard and felt a larger tear in my shorts. This time the cool night air snuck in the opening of the tear and it gave me an added pleasure-jolt. I shut the door as his massive arm shifted the gears and we were in reverse and on the road in a flash. I was somewhat afraid to look at much more than the arm in fear that I would either scream in fear of the “Monster” that dad had called him or cream myself immediately as I’m sure I would explode out from my clothes, all from just being in his presence. Only as we would pass a streetlight would I get a quick glimpse of this mammoth man. God, my uncle was HUGE! I knew that having feelings for a relative wasn't looked upon with affirming eyes of the public, and I know how wrong it was that I was excited about my grandpa, and how my anger turned me on in front of my father, but I didn’t care if the man seated next to me was related to me or not. I wanted him. I wanted him so much my heart was racing and my body was starting to react even more so. Hell, he was only related by marriage, I thought. So Fuck It. I felt two more tears in my shorts. Then he laid his hand on my lap and said, “Steve, I’m not your Uncle. The Name’s Lloyd. I’m you’re Uncle’s…a…partner at the farm. We are really looking forward to getting to know you out there. We have a lot planned for you and it should be a lot of fun and good times, but it’s not gonna be easy either. I’m sure you’ll be leaving there a changed man.” He squeezed my leg. “Hmmmm, very nice quads there. Your uncle said you played football?” Any feeeling of apprehension of him being my relative was now gone and this boosted my arrogance level, “Yes, sir I do. I’m 1st string, All-State and now one of the top ranked centers east of the Mississippi.” The back of my tank ripped along my lats. “Center…aaay…. well that sounds just about right. With those quads…I mean. You have to be really strong in your legs and all. But you could plow through just about anything, huh?” “I sure can, sir. Really strong, see, “ I said as I flexed them as he squeezed. The left leg of my shorts instantly shown more skin as my shorts ripped some more. Even though I could tell he was holding back his strength, the pressure of his squeeze was like a vise. My cock got harder yet. “Wow, very, very nice. I bet your ass is rock solid too, huh. The girls must love that ass.” I chuckled and said, “Yeah they do sir. But I’m not too sure they’re ever gonna get a crack at it.” I put my hand on top of his and gave it a squeeze of my own. I’m usually not so brazen about my come-ons, but there was something about this man that made me feel very comfortable around him and besides that, ever since the encounter with Billy the night before, I had been horny as fuck. Not even my massive orgasms in the morning had calmed my urges. Hell, for even a moment, when I had him in my face, I probably could have fucked…well…you know...dad. Thinking about what he had said, about not being able to take it again, made me wonder about my Uncle Matt. Did my Uncle and my dad have a go at it? Then flashes of my father's tight little ass, zipped through my brain and felt my shorts rip under my balls. I shook my head to get the images out and I looked back at the monster of man next to me. Even though I could see him only in shadows and glimpses, I was getting completely rock hard for him and I’m sure he could see my cock making quite a tent out of my gym shorts. I continued my forwardness, “With a grip like yours, I bet you could have a crack at it.” With that he took his hand off my leg. "Hmmmphff," he said and then he shoved his hand under me, literally picking me up off the seat with just that one hand squeezing my ass so hard it pushed my cock through my torn shorts, shredding them, springing it out into fresh air. I almost immediately came thinking about the Hulk. “Oh yeah, really hard ass and muscular too. OH, what do we have here, what a fucking nice piece of boy cock too. You think I could handle that, too?” “God, I fucking hope so, sir.” I said as I started to buck my hips. “The thing is boy; I don’t think you could handle me.” Lloyd said as he pulled his hand out from under me and flexed his huge bicep instantly ripping the tight tee shirt he had on under his overalls. His bicep kept getting bigger and bigger the longer he held the flex and as it did, my cock got harder and harder. God I wanted to feel him growing. I involuntarily put my hand up to feel his growing muscle. My eyes must have been huge looking at him, because I could see his teeth as he smiled really broadly. I turned toward him in the seat and started to lick his massive gun. I have no idea, how Lloyd was able to keep the pickup on the road. I would have put us in a ditch by now. As I held it, I could’ve sworn that it continued to grow just like Billy did last night and I did today. Now I knew there was a connection with Billy, Lloyd and Uncle Matt and I couldn’t wait to find out what it was. I heard him moan and he put me in a headlock and pulled the truck off the road skidding to a halt. . “GET OUT” “What!!?” “You heard me, get out and get in the bed of the fucking truck, RIGHT NOW. I can hardly fucking drive with this going on. Get in the back and I'm going to take you somewhere that will be more private. Steve, it's time to show you something.” “Okay,” And I did as I was told. I didn’t want to piss him off; I just wanted to obey the huge muscle animal. “Also, you better not touch that cock of yours and get off, boy, or I’ll fucking tan your fucking hide. You hear me?” He started the truck back up and pulled back onto the road. “Yes, sir, I promise, sir.” God, was this really happening? We were only on the road for less than a mile when we came upon a gated dirt road that went into some of the thickest looking forest I’ve ever seen. Lloyd turned off the pavement and told me to open the gate. I did, as I was told, not so much that he told me too, but that I was hoping for my fantasy to come true. Still, being ordered around by this behemoth was very erotic and enticing, maybe even a big turn on, since my cock was still half hard. As I opened the gate I noticed a sign that had been grown over, but I could make out, "erty of Mat ew Trah ne" I got back in the bed of the truck and we went down the long dirt road. About 3 miles down he turned left and we stopped at a small clearing next to a pond. I had no clue where we were, other than I had a sneaking suspicion. Still, I knew that there was no one for miles around. With his massive size he could beat the shit out of me and leave me for dead and no one would ever know, but I knew deep inside his intentions were totally on the up and up. Growing up, I hoped. I stood up in the truck as he got out of the truck. I stared amazed as he just kept getting out of the truck; more and more of him slowly coming into sight and by the time he had squeezed himself out of the cab, he stood about 8 feet high and about 3 feet wide. With a swiftness, he grabbed me under my shoulders and lifted me effortlessly out of the truck bed and over his head. As he lowered me down he stopped where my cock was right as his mouth and he engulfed my entire prick down his throat. He had suction like an industrial Hoover and I became instantly hard as a rock and then with a loud POP, which almost made me cum, he released my cock. Laughing, He set me on the ground and said, “Follow me, son. You’re going to get a birthday present you’ll never going to fucking forget. Young Billy was only the beginning.” BINGO, I fucking knew it. This was all connected. God, this is too much. As we walked toward the water, I was now able to see just how huge this man really was. He was by far the largest being on earth I had EVER seen. I think I was initially wrong with my estimated measurements, because, he actually must’ve stood almost 9 ft. tall and was completely packed with muscle. He was as massive in muscle or more than Jay Cutler or any other bodybuilder that I could recall. I could see him involuntarily flexing his ass muscles with ever step he took. His shoulders must have measured about almost 4 feet across and his thighs were as large as an oak tree. His chest looked completely ripped under that white t-shirt and it spread across him like two humungous mounds of granite pillows. Billy would have looked like a mere weakling compared to this man. Quite honestly, only my grandpa came close. Lloyd stopped and turned around. His face was the most beautiful face I had ever seen. He had dark hair that was long and flowing and the finely chiseled features everywhere. He had a scruffy, but manicured dark brown beard. I could tell his eyes were Dark Ocean blue and his lips were full and pouted a little. He put his hands on his hips and motioned with his head, for me to come closer. I did so and when I got about 3 feet in front of him he said to stop. He didn’t say anything for about 2 minutes. He just looked at me with such an incredible lust in his eyes that I felt totally drawn to him. My whole body was excited at the prospect of even being within a few feet of this God. I started to walk towards him. To look into his eyes I had to hold me head up as if I were looking at the sky. “STOP, DON’T MOVE ANY CLOSER. Stay right where you are. I’m getting a good last look at you. You are going to be one of the best, I’m sure of it. WOW! You Uncle said you were a sight to behold and you’re really beyond that.” “Thank you, sir. But I’m nothing compared to you." Lloyd chuckled, "Actually, you will be so much more than me. Your Uncle knows this. He's been with you your whole life." I must have looked a little bewildered because he followed up, saying, "You probably don't remember or maybe you never even saw your Uncle, but he would sit in the stands, disguised to look normal and watch you play your games. All the way from little league to your high school games. He is so proud of what you have accomplished. He would come back and tell us all about some of the great plays that you would make. He's really your biggest fan. And now I can see for myself, why. You are magnificent Steve. Perfection. I can see just what you are going to become and it's colossal. I hunger for you." "God, I just want to touch you; to feel your magnificence. What do you want me to do for you, sir?” “Steve, I want you to see, feel and be something that’s beyond your wildest fantasies. Today you’re a man and it’s time you know why your father thinks your Uncle Matt is a freak or monster. Your Uncle is not the type of freak that your father has made him out to be. He is a giving, generous and loving man who only wants the best out of this life. I’m about to show you the most amazing gift that I have ever been given, and that gift was from your Uncle. I am not of your bloodline, but because of your Uncle, I am now a part of him and as well a part of you. I am chosen by him to become part of the bloodline. He has chosen me and others to reap the benefits of your family's gift. He sent me to get you and begin this gift to you as well. But before I could I had be sure that this is something you have wanted all your life. Billy was the test; the beginning to get you acclimated, so you would be able to really get your gift from me if we thought you could handle it. I now know you can. Your Uncle can’t do it himself, at the moment, because he is tending to other men to be in our bloodline, just like you. He will meet us back at the farm, when we get there and then you will get your final gift from him. The rest of us, non-Tranherne's, will never get the final gift. Only those that are born into the bloodline, like yourself, will get the final gift. Now this next bit is very important so listen carefully.” “I am, sir.” Lloyd literally shivered and said, “I fucking love it when you call me sir. It shows respect and you are definitely going to respect me for the next 2 ½ hours. You will do whatever I want and you will be obedient. Do you understand this and do you agree?” “Yes, sir.” “Good...nevertheless, it really won’t matter, because once we begin because you won’t have a choice. First off, whatever you do, I’m telling you that the most important thing is that you don’t move or say anything unless your told or made too. Second, whatever happens to you, go with it. Do not resist it, even if you are in uncomfortable or in pain. It will make things that much easier on you if you totally give in to what is going to happen. Don’t fucking fight this, OKAY!” “Yes SIR. I want this, sir. I want whatever you have to offer me.” “Good boy!! Now, you’re going to witness something that you have never witnessed before. What happened to you last night is minuscule compared to what you’re going to experience now. Then you’re going to go through something that only a very few men on this earth have ever felt before. Billy gave you your first stage last night. I’m sure you’ve noticed some BIG changes in your body?” “God, yes, sir. It’s been amazing. I feel so big and powerful and turned on all the time.” “I know that feeling well. I must've cum over 100 times when I first went through the change. But now you’re going to go through the second phase with me and the third stage with your equal, which is someone, in your bloodline, who has been predestined to go through this with you. You’ll find that out later. Then you will have the final stage with your Uncle. Remember, you’re going to change, Steve. You’re going to become something you’ve always dreamed of. I’m also sure that you have figured out that your grandfather was one of us, correct?” “Yes sir, I knew he was someone special and now I realize just how special.” “Well he is a very special man. You’ll soon find out just how amazingly special he is. I want you to remember how you feel about him, and how badly you want to be big, because it’s not going to be all fun and games, either. You’re going to feel massive amounts of pain, but even higher amounts of pure pleasure. Don’t scream or run, because there is no one around that will hear you. I’m not saying that to scare you, but this will be quite a shock. Are you ready?” “I…I guess...Yes...Yes I'm ready, sir!!” Inside I was saying to myself. ‘If it’s what I think and am praying for, then HELL YEAH I’m ready.’ My cock was again on its way to becoming hard as a rock and it was beginning to poke its way out of the new hole that Lloyd had made for me, in my shorts. He looked down and noticed my growing cock. “Yeah, I think you’re ready, son.” I was ready for anything. I’ve wanted to be with a mammoth muscle man all my life and I was finally going to have my dream come true. Little did I know that it was going to change my life forever and cause me to never see my Mom's loving face again? Lloyd smiled and closed his eyes. His put his hands on his hips and started to softly chant a dialect that I couldn’t understand. I immediately noticed that the birds and insects became silent. I couldn’t hear the crickets anymore either or any noises at all except what sounded like a low rumbling. Very soon, I started to feel the ground shake all around me. I thought Kentucky was experiencing its very first large earthquake. My first instinct was to run for cover but I remembered what Lloyd had said about not running and then I saw Lloyd’s eyes open and I realized where the shaking was coming from. It was coming from him. His eyes were no longer blue, but had completely gone white. I could see no iris or pupil, only the clarity of white. Then, Lloyd’s body started to tremble. This must’ve been turning him on too as I noticed a huge bulge snaking down his right leg underneath the overalls. It stopped for a moment just below mid-thigh and I thought to myself, “Dear God, He must be over 15 inches long.” Then it started back up again. The thickness was over one-third as big as the thickness of his massive leg. His body started to shake and vibrate even more. Then I noticed a dark trail of wetness coming from wherever the head had been and his flowing precum was accenting the shape of his leg even more. The ground was really shaking now as he began to vibrate intensely. His cock finally stopped growing, just below his knee. My mouth watered and my asshole puckered for his jean snake. The vibrations were so intense that his body was actually making a humming sound. I know what you’re thinking and your right. His body and the ground weren’t shaking with a violent type of sensation but more of a continuous vibration, like a vibrator. It made me snicker when I thought about it, but I quickly became serious again, when I saw that the lower half of his right leg was now soaked with all the precum pouring out of him, making a pool of it under his foot. The ground was vibrating so much it started to tickle my feet. I felt a strange sensation go up my legs to my pelvis, hitting my cock and balls, causing my own cock to begin precumming like crazy, just like Lloyd was doing. Then the feeling went up my torso till my entire body was vibrating almost as much as his. The sensation was overwhelming and I felt completely relaxed and invigorated at the same time. My cock was more rigid than I had ever known it to be and as it stood out of my shorts it was flinging huge amounts of precum all over the place. I couldn’t resist the feeling and I was just about to cum when he yelled the word “TRAHERNE” and I realized my prayers might be right, as my all-time fantasy was about to happen. The vibrations slowed and stopped but the will to cum in me was stronger than ever. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to relax and the feeling of an explosive orgasm slowly went away. Then I saw Lloyd start to actually pulsate. His entire body was beating like a heart would, pumping itself up like a bodybuilder did before the big contest. It was really strange though, because Lloyd wasn’t actually flexing his body; his body was flexing itself. Lloyd hadn’t moved his legs or arms at all since all of this had started. Larger and larger his muscles became as they filled with blood like he was going through a massive workout, but all he was doing was standing there with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t actually growing taller, but it really looked like he was getting a massive pump. I noticed that Lloyd had closed his eyes and I could tell he was in some sort of trance. His breathing increased with every breath and his inhales were becoming so powerful that I could feel the pull towards him with every breath, but amazingly his exhales were only normal size. Where was all that air going? As I looked closer I could see that he was actually using the oxygen to inflate himself. “But that’s impossible.” I thought…or was it? The more oxygen he brought inside him, the more the blood would flow into his muscles, and the bigger those mammoth muscles would become. I noticed that his cock was getting thicker too, as well as the bulge in his crotch was showing more and more as his balls must have been increasing. The fabric of his overalls was straining like crazy trying to hold in his massive tool. Again the earth around us rumbled, but this time it was due to the incredibly low bass sound of Lloyd’s moans in between his awesome breathes. His moans became louder and louder to the point of massive growls. Even the sound of the man before me was effecting me and my body. If were even possible, my cock was harder than ever in my life. I was actually in a sort of blissful pain that my cock had reached such a rigid state. Never in my wildest fantasies, I thought that I could be more turned on then I was with Billy, and then I surpassed that this morning when I was satisfying my own self-indulgence. But now, my cock literally ached with a sexual magnitude and insatiability that was growing beyond a normal realm of erogenous pleasure. I could feel the cum in me raising and filling up my cock, but nothing came out. Still, no matter how much I wanted too, needed too, had too, my cock would not release any fluid other than precum or give me what was the normal meaning of an explosive orgasm. Instead of shooting loads of cum, I was bound by my desires and in a constant state of a euphoric orgasm. I heard myself screaming as the pressure in my cock intensified. Even with all that I was feeling now, my anticipation of what I was hoping was going to happen was only taking me further on my journey and everything I was experiencing so far was beyond my wildest fantasies already. They say that there are levels of consciousness that some are lucky enough to achieve when in a certain metaphysical state. I had not only reached that, I was well on my way of surpassing those levels of almost God like feelings. In fact, I no longer thought about only myself because at this moment, I was so completely enthralled with this being before me that I was becoming something else. I started to get dizzy from the colossal surges of power I was experiencing and I had to close my eyes for a second. With my eyes closed, I could feel the sound of his booming voice hitting me on my chest and actually feeling his voice as a physical thing, sinking into my flesh. My cock felt like a balloon that was being filled with water to the breaking point, but ,God I felt more fucking alive than ever. When I felt sturdy enough again, I opened my eyes back up as Lloyd s massive arms suddenly rose sharply above his head and there was a type of an invisible shock wave that blew out from his body which knocked me on my ass as well as toppling over a couple of 30 ft. trees. It was definitely loud enough to produce a huge, long echo that bounced off the valley walls. The blast of energy felt like a Mack truck had hit me. It didn’t hurt me, but as I stumbled back to my feet I could feel the actual energy from the shock wave start to radiate through me. It felt like my own body was expanding but I couldn’t see any physical changes. My balls began to pulsate just like Lloyd’s body had been. It felt like I was having the most intense workout and sexual experience of my life. Every muscle in my body was tightening and becoming harder and harder, to match the hardness and fullness of my cock, though I still wasn’t growing bigger. My arms felt like they were going to explode in size and even my face felt tighter. I could feel my skin tightening around the follicles of each strand of hair. My legs were becoming as strong and hard as tree trunks and my ass literally felt like a rock. I felt my abs tighten and I pulled up my shirt and looked at my stomach, but other than feeling tight and hard, there was no optical change. In fact, there was no change, other than my plump cock, anywhere physically on me, but the feeling inside of me was exploding with power and ecstasy. Then, if was even fathomable, stronger feelings of lust came over me. My mind went blank and was instantly filled with visions of hugely muscled giant God-like men. But unlike the dream I had after being with Billy, every image of every man was a version of Lloyd. I didn’t care about anything or anyone else in the world at all. Not my Mom or Dad, not Billy, Grandpa, or even Uncle Matt. All I knew at that point was Lloyd. I wanted to be huge like him. No, actually, I wanted to be a complete part of him. My entire body literally ached to be like him and to have him. My cock started to pulsate like crazy and even stronger and more intense huge waves of pleasure over took me, completely. I had to be a part of this man. I had to feel him. I yearned to be him, to touch him, to experience all that he was feeling. I could feel an even larger buildup of an explosion in me and I embraced it. I gave myself freely, remembering what Lloyd had said. I lost myself in him. I was no longer Steve; I was a part of Lloyd. Then, my body started to become as hard as I was feeling inside. Not only was my cock like a rock, my body became very rigid and as I relinquish any control that I had of myself. The energy blast from Lloyd had taken complete control over me and I had no choice whatsoever to fight it. I didn’t want to fight it. I only wanted it to take me over and I was more than eager to let it happen. Levels of ecstasy were building one on top of another. My whole body, no my entire being was in a state of orgasm. Wave after wave of sexual intensity filled up so much inside of me that I couldn’t control myself, nor did I want to. I welcomed the impending result, whatever it may be. I watched helplessly as Lloyd’s arms fall back down by his sides and then to shoulder height. As he outstretched them towards me, a blinding electrical current shot from his fingertips and targeted my crotch. The electricity hitting my balls sent then into another sort of overdrive. They weren’t only pulsating, they moving around in my sack and I could tell they were growing. Again, there had been the intense pain of being shocked, but it quickly went away. It was replaced by a feeling that was amazingly even more powerful, like it was energizing me more than I already was. Now I had come to a point that there is no way possible to explain what I was feeling in my entire body. There are no words and it was beyond any comprehension of our human psyche of explanation. I looked down just to see if, like the non-optical changes of the rest of my body, the same thing was happening to my balls. To my joy, it wasn’t. I could see my balls getting larger. I felt them against my legs pushing them apart, as they needed more room to grow. Bigger and heavier they became, filling up with so much pressure I could feel it turning and boiling inside. The pressure that was already on my cock was now matched to the pressure in my balls. Then all of the lust and euphoria I was feeling through the rest of my body went straight to my balls. I started to scream in pleasure, and with each shout, my voice seemed to get lower, till I was shaking the ground myself with my own moaning and groaning. I couldn’t contain the new intense feeling and I let out a type of sonic boom scream as I started to finally have a physical shooting orgasm. Although, it was not in a normal way with shot after shot; it was more like one continuous flow of cum coming out of my cock like a fire hose. I was hitting and pouring it all over Lloyd’s body over 6 feet away. Whatever he had done to me, I was in the purest possible form of euphoria, being his concubine of muscle and power. I involuntarily arched my back, throwing my arms back and I embraced what was happening as I let my seed stream out from my body and soak the wall of muscle in front of me. Up and down his body my white cream flowed soaking his clothes against his body, showing me every curve and mound. My body moved around like an unmanned fire hose that was spraying everywhere. My cum was soaking not only Lloyd, but also 20-30 feet all around us. After a few minutes, I regained my stability and instinctively aimed back at him as he opened his mouth and inhaled again as my large stream of cum was sucked into it by the incredible vacuum force. His inhalation was so strong, that my entire body started to be pulled toward him and by the time he closed his mouth to swallow I was only about 2 feet away from him. He let out a huge growl and then he began to actually glow. His entire body underneath his clothes was actually radiating a dull soft auburn light. It was getting brighter and brighter, but not blinding. I was being enticed by him like being a moth to the flame. Since his sonic boom of energy hit me, nothing that I did or thought of differ from what Lloyd had wanted me too. He had completely entranced me as I was only a pawn in his endgame. It was also still his will that I was now seemingly able to freely move my body. So therefore, I or rather, I should say, HE raised my hand to touch him on the arm and the millisecond that our skin met I felt additional continuous bursts of energy, which started the most amazing transformation I had yet to see. First, his groans and growls became louder and he began to grunt like a wild animal. He actually snarled and gnashed his teeth together almost biting me. I pulled, or rather was commanded to pull my hand away as I started to notice his shirt beginning to quickly shred from his body exposing, in a matter of seconds, inch by inch of golden moonlit skin and a huge and sensuous chest that I yearned to touch. But for now my arms were locked at my side. As his t-shirt quite literally exploded off of him, it hung out of his overalls. He must’ve known how much I wanted to touch him, to feel his immense body, because suddenly within in instant, I felt his hand behind my back as he pulled me into him, burying my face between his massive mounds of what was his chest. I hadn’t really noticed so much with my eyes before, other than seeing his shirt rip off of him, but he wasn’t just growing, his body was multiplying. Muscles on top of muscles were getting larger, longer and fuller. I could feel him getting larger and larger under me. A few moments after my face was buried in his chest, I felt my feet leave the ground. My mouth tasted my own salty cum as licked the mounds of his open chest. When my tongue found one of his succulently enormous nipples I felt a huge growth spurt that caused me to almost suffocate as his nipple extended and filled my mouth. His overalls no longer had any room in them for his body either. Both straps broke without hesitation off of his shoulders. As they popped off, one of them had so much force that it shot out one of the trucks tires over fifteen feet away. The rest of the jean fabric of the overalls became as tight as a drum skin as it pulled across his growing body. Then, the overalls begin to dig into his flesh as if his body was the muscular dough in a Croissant roll can. Very quickly, the overalls weren’t able to contain him anymore and the fabric exploded and shredded like cheesecloth. The tightly woven material ripped apart with strands of white and blue threads flying everywhere. It literally was an explosion. His entire chest heaved around my head as I clung with my teeth to his giant sized nipple. In fact his whole body seemed to engulf mine. I felt as though I would smoother in ecstasy. When his body finally rebounded he had instantly grown larger than Billy had been. His large hand that was holding me against him went down under my ass and as the last bit of overalls fell to the ground, the man was completely naked and still growing beneath me. I licked everywhere I could reach my mouth. His massive arms, his chest, his stomach and his armpits all were licked clean of the mixture of my cum and his sweat. Next I felt his other huge hand on my back again, grabbing what was left of my shirt as it was ripped from my body. Then in just as swift a move, off came my torn shorts. It was completely effortless for him to strip me, shredding my clothes in the process, instantly, while he held my now 282lbs body up with his one hand under my ass. The cool night air added yet another tingling sensation to my naked body. As I felt us skin-to-skin, it was becoming too much for my senses to handle. I felt as if I was going insane with so much elated power, divine lust and an exuberant hunger for more, but amazingly I knew that this was my destiny and that I was made to become this…this Mighty Omnipotent of Power that was before me. With all the God-like awareness and titillation that I was experiencing, I was still ready for more and I instinctively knew that more was yet to come. Lloyd’s hand that was under my ass wasn’t just to hold me up. There had been another serviceability that he had in mind. Suddenly, I felt his middle finger begin to play with my hole. He rubbed my taint back and forth putting the perfect amount of pressure to make it feel so good. Then he began to softly vibrate his finger as he brushed in a circular motion around my bud as to entice me into what was inevitably coming. I began to moan, biting my lower lip, which was his invitation to enter me. With a force that was instantaneous and to the hilt, I screamed in pleasure and pain as his already 8” finger shot up inside me, invading my ass, sending me further and further into a frenzy of an animalistic magnitude. He finger fucked me with such force that he would sometimes exit my ass entirely and then plummeting his appendage to the hilt, literally punching my butt. As he continued to grow, his finger became over 12 inches long. He was now well over 20 feet high and his finger-cock pushed so hard against my prostate that I almost passed out from the intensity. The pleasure was cosmically more overflowing than the pain was excruciating. His massive finger continued moving in and out of me with an increasing, ferocious pace and without even touching myself, I was helpless to resist as I started to cum in huge violent bursts that were soaking most all of me and more of Lloyd’s enormous torso. With every internal thrust deep into me a huge volley of cream would cascade out of my piss hole. After about a minute of completely soaking us to the bone and muscle, my orgasm finally stopped, but Lloyd didn’t stop growing or fucking me with his expanding fuck tool. I was in such a state of enraptured awareness that I didn’t realize that he had inserted 2 and then 3 fingers up my ass as he was opening me up for larger things to come. I was no longer in a normal state of consciousness. In fact, I was quite literally a rag doll that Lloyd was playing with. My state of utopia was so much so that, any coherent thoughts were gone and there was no ebbing of my pleasure. My orgasms hadn’t even phased out any of my insatiable lust. If this was what it felt like to be a god, it was completely incredible. He grunted some more and as I looked down below I noticed the ground getting further and further away. I thought that he must have now been almost 25 feet tall. By the feel of his 3 fingers, the middle one must have been over 14” now, my asshole was now going to be able to accept the huge size of him. The electrical shock, the vibrations, all of it, must have been him priming me for this process since the moment we stepped out of the truck. I never had a man in me as big as Billy up my ass and I now realized how I had even managed him, before Lloyd was doing his invasion of my ass. These men, no…these Gods, had the ability to change not only their own bodies, but others as well, and all by a means that was still uncultivated to me. But now all I wanted to was to be completely filled by him. I shuddered at the prospect of that main appendage of his. A cock that was now well over 3 feet in length and by all plausibility, completely negate of being able to enter me in any way. Still, he continued to ram his finger in me with such force my cock was getting a hand job from the muscles on his torso. Then in one huge thrust to his knuckles, I shot a single huge glob of cum straight up and over his head. This must’ve been the right signal for him, because he exited his fingers from me when the middle was about 16” long. I was beginning to become somewhat frightened at the thought of his cock. I didn’t even want to look down at it, just yet. He was now bigger than some of the surrounding trees but there was no one for miles so any passersby wouldn’t notice him. He not only was getting taller, but I could tell that he was getting wider and bigger everywhere, because the next thing I felt was something hard and large as a tree trunk against my right leg. I looked down and saw his 3 and a half-foot cock rising and pulsating under and beside me. There was enough precum coming out of it to fill a large mortar bucket. In fact the puddle it was making on the ground looked large enough to fill a kiddy pool. My cock was still pulsating and hard as a rock and the need for more was still as strong as ever. I looked up at Lloyd’s face and his eyes were open and looking down at me with the same intense lust as before, but something else that made me to continue to look into them. He spoke in a low giant’s size voice. “NOW IT SHALL BEGIN FOR YOU. YOUR NOW WILL BEGIN YOUR NEW LIFE.” I was unable to look away as the power Lloyd’s piercing eyes looked deep at me, no rather into me. At first I didn’t realize it but he was actually hypnotizing me to be ready for what was to come next. As Lloyd later told me, he had to “hold me” as he put it, which basically was his way of saying hypnotize me, otherwise I never would have been able to carry through with everything. Also that my encounter with Billy was to begin the process of giving my body the elasticity I would need now. If I wouldn’t have been hypnotized and made unaware of the excruciating pain and changes that my body was about to undergo, I probably would have died. As I looked into his eyes, his mind control on me was amazing. He spoke with his mouth for the last time, “YOU MUST WANT THIS WITH ALL YOUR WILL AND SOUL. DO YOU MY BOY?” “I do sir!” “GOOD, NOW WE WILL TALK NO MORE, JUST LOOK AT ME, SON. LOOK DEEP INTO MY EYES AND HEAR MY THOUGHTS…YOU ARE NO LONGER OF YOU OWN BODY, BUT OF MINE. YOU SHALL HEAR, THINK, SMELL, TASTE, AND BE ONLY FOR ME RIGHT NOW. YOU MUST BE SUBORDINATE TO ME, STEVE; YOU MUST HEAR WITH MY THOUGHTS AND OBEY THEM. YOU CANNOT AVERT ME. YOU ARE MINE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” I nodded yes, not so much that I was answering his questions, it was that I had wanted this all my life and I did not want resist him, in any way at all. Still even if I had wanted to resist this, the power he had over me right at that moment was so strong; that I was completely useless to deny what was about to happen next. The feeling of yearning for this was more than I could bear. I felt my eyes begin to water and a tear of joy run down my right cheek, as I was able to hear him even though his mouth did not move. “TODAY, YOU ARE MINE TO CHANGE; MINE TO OWN. YOU ARE TO BE REBORN INTO YOUR NEW LIFE FOREVER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” I never once thought about trying to look away or escape what was happening to me. All I saw was a paradise there that I had never known before. My entire body was exploding with pleasure. I longed to be there, to be a part of this God; of my family of Gods. My Grandfather, my mother, my uncle and Lloyd were my family. I had found my true calling. I was beginning my true life. Lloyd eyes were all that I could look at and I felt a complete peace within them. This was my creator and my lover. We were connected. Somehow, all of us, were connected. And it was now my moment to find out how...

My first story submission on here. Chapter 1: “I can’t stop growing” Jonas muttered between mouthfuls. My mouth was hanging open in disbelief ,I was giving the strangest interview of my life. The man in front of me was this overly-muscled, hairy, half-naked monster. The same guy who only a year or ago had been a top player of a New York City gay kickball league and maybe 180 lbs at best. Now he was enormous, closed off and holed up in his Brooklyn apartment. Jonas hadn’t shaved in weeks, his dark hair had grown long, flowing onto his rounded shoulders. And he sat there in only tight boxer briefs, his bloated, heavy muscles on full display. Normally I’d be turned on by a massively muscular guy, by this monumental hypermasculinity, but instead I was growing concerned. Here was a man who had ballooned up into a massive roided bear of a man in one year, seemingly in denial about it. From a respectable athletic guy into a freakishly beefy offseason mess in one year! “All I’ve seen you do since I got here is eat” I replied. “You’ve been eating non-stop since I got here almost an hour ago.” “I can’t stop. You don’t understand, it’s not a choice.” He replied in frustration. Jonas looked like he was eating some sort of thick gruel, but he assured me it was oatmeal and protein powder. He apologized for his shirtlessness, claiming he was too big for his clothes.. I was tempted to believe him. His once lean build was now so overblown, roided out to an almost grotesque degree that I was amaze he still fit in his apartment. Jonas’ hairy and ample muscle gut sat in his lap as he ate. Massive, fur covered pecs loomed over it, looking like heavy slabs of muscle. His tremendously muscular arms tensed and flexed with each movement. I imagined he had to weigh somewhere north 300 lbs by now. In my whole life I had scarcely seen a man as large. I was a part time writer covering gay sport events for the New Gotham Weekly, a local gay publication. Sports had always been a little passion of mine, and I figure this would be a fun and light side-job. Something to do in my spare time. I had actually met Jonas when he lead his kickball team marching in pride two years back, when he was a different man. He was popular, a 20-something handsome gay boy with jet black hair and a permanent Five O’Clock shadow. He could have stepped right out of some telenovela. And then I met him again when his team won the big kickball division match.I even made a little feature about it. And before all this, he was so classically good looking. When I heard that “hot Jonas” had dropped out of kickball to do bodybuilding it piqued my interest. I decided that I wanted to know what had happened to him. Sightings of him last year in town confirmed that the one-time 180 pound scenester had developed into a serious bodybuilder, and he continued to get bigger and bigger as the months went by. But it had been about 6 months since anyone had even seen him out or heard a word from him. He had cut off communication with his friends, his family. No one knew what was going on. Only the most minimal of communication had been returned. Someone told me he was “concentrating on his bodybuilding career”. That's when I came in. I found his email and I contacted him saying I wanted to interview him, thinking it might be interesting to do a story about a former leading kickball player who’d turned to bodybuilding, and write a bit about life as a bodybuilder, maybe he’d look hot with all the extra muscle, I thought- but I had no idea what I was getting into. Jonas was now this enormous shut-in. He had apparently quit his job, stopped talking to friends, stopped using facebook and only left his cramped one bedroom in Brooklyn to hit the gym. And here I showed up thinking this would be some sweet little puff piece about a particularly sexy ex-kickballer turned bodybuilder. Jonas looked me right at me with these soulful eyes when I asked him about his disappearance from the scene. “I couldn’t explain to people what was happening to me. I couldn’t explain why I had to go home, why I had to go to the gym. My friends were freaking out about the changes, but no one could stop it from happening. The nagging, the comments, it just made everything worse. I couldn’t be around those people anymore, it was too… stressful.” Jonas shifted his substantial weight and lifted his hulking body out of the chair. He lumbered towards the fridge to grab something else to eat. He pulled out a prepared meal of rice and chicken and began shoveling food again. “How long have you been living like this?” I asked. “It started a little over a year ago. It wasn’t serious at first, I thought. I just started eating all the time and my training went into overdrive. I really liked the muscle I put on the first few months. But then the injections started” “Injections?” I asked “Yes, injections. And that's when I really started blowing up. I felt like I was growing larger every day. I stopped liking it. I stopped wanting to get bigger. Right around the time I hit 220 I realized I was getting too big even for kickball. I tried to stop growing, I did everything I thought of, but I can’t stop. Nothing can make me stop” “If you don’t like it, why’d you continue with the injections?” “I told you already” he said, flustered, “I can’t stop” I scribbled some notes to look busy, buying time. “Are you going to try and compete?” I asked sheepishly. I saw a little hint of temper rise up in his eyes “You don’t understand. I don’t want this, I never wanted this” he said, gesturing down at his massive pecs. His rounded shoulders bulged and flexed with each movement of his arms. Jonas was still eating and I was more puzzled than ever. “If you don’t want to get bigger... why do you keep eating?” I asked again, halfheartedly expecting a different response. “Listen, This is not possible. I don’t control this, like I said. I’m eating but I can’t stop. it won’t stop.” That's when I started feeling a little alarmed. I was tempted to try something, but I was unsure how’d he react. “Well what if I…” I said, reaching over to grab the tupperware out of his hands. His huge, powerful build immediately shifted and pulled away, out of my reach. “No, even if you tried, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from taking it back.” No doubt, I thought. This man could crush me in a fight. I sat there trying to let his words weigh on me. What I had halfheartedly expected to be a small, potentially fun fluff piece about a former gay kickball captain was turning into something else entirely. His compulsion, this all-consuming obsession with eating and lifting, could it really be entirely outside of his own mental control? I paused for a moment and an unsettling silence hung in the air of that stale apartment. “Have you seen a psychologist?” I asked in a gentle tone. “It wouldn’t do any good” he quickly snapped back. “This is not a natural thing, this is a curse.” Jonas had finished scarfing down his meal and sat up quickly to grab more food. I couldn’t help but be surprised by how quickly a man of his size moved. “You’re going to outgrow that kitchen” I said to him half jokingly, hoping to lighten the tone. “I’m outgrowing everything.” He sounded deadly serious. “I have no clothes that fit me anymore. I can’t run anymore and everything feels smaller.I don’t know when this is going to stop.” “If you’re upset about getting bigger, why haven’t you seen a doctor about it? Or a phscolo…” “I told you already” he interrupted. It’s just not going to happen.” He sounded more defeated than angry. “Ok, just tell me how you got into this lifting then” I asked patiently. I never thought i’d actually sit for a serious interview for my part time job. “I’ve been lifting for years. But this. All this… “ Jonas said, gesturing at his huge build. “This started last year. I met a man, an older guy. We were out at a bar. A big guy, muscular, older. We were chatting in the bar. I admired his muscles and then he told me he’d love to see me bulk up. I thought it was a weird comment so I just started to ignore him. He was really persistent, telling me he wanted to see me get huge and all this weird stuff. I mean, I liked his arms, he must have noticed, but then he just latched on. I don’t know what happened, but not long after I noticed I was eating a lot. It was subtle at first, but I just found myself eating, and cooking and I started taking up lifting seriously. I don’t know what he did to me. I still can’t figure out how he did it to me, but he’s made me like this.” Jonas had a seriousness to his voice that startled me. Here in front of me was a gargantuan overfed, overgrown bodybuilder who I knew was lifting on his own and eating endlessly on his own, and yet, there was a total conviction in what he said. He didn’t own any responsibility for his current actions, something that made me worry for his own mental state. “So if you quit your job, how are you paying for this apartment and all this food?” Jonas paused a little before taking another swig of a protein shake. “I have a donor, he’s paying rent. I get food delivered.” “Who’s the donor. Is it the guy you met? the older gentleman?” “I…. I might be saying too much.” He muttered. Then Jonas leaning his bulky torso in close to mine. I felt the heat coming off his huge body. “Listen” he whispered “I don’t want anything else to happen. Maybe we shouldn't talk about this.” When I felt his powerful arm against my shoulder I got chills down my spine. This man was huge, and probably out of his mind. I took that as my queue to leave. The guy had gone insane with steroids. That was the only conclusion I could think of. I thanked Jonas for his time and I politely mentioned that I would never publish anything without his approval, fully knowing that I had nothing to run anyway. Headline: Young gay man gets addicted to steroids, loses his fucking mind. Nah, that wouldn’t work. I headed back home to finish a little feature about Roller Derby girls. I had to get back to my real job too. I tried to shrug off the encounter with Jonas and go about my work that week, but on Thursday, a full week later, I got an email from him. He wanted another interview. “I have to tell you what's happening because, I don’t know what's going to happen to me. Lets meet this weekend.” I wanted to ignore it. This Jonas kid was blown up so big that he go into a rage and really hurt me if he wanted. Part of me was too attracted to the idea that this might be a chance for some real journalism, or at least a juicy story. That following Saturday I found myself walking up the stairs of Jonas’ Brooklyn brownstone.

You can check out the first hypnosis story here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2230-hypnosis-does-a-body-good/ Hypnosis II: "Come on in boys and let’s have a chat for a few minutes." Richard Steiner invited two of his closest friends from his gym to attend a hypnosis seminar that is supposed to help you unlock your body’s sixth sense and allow you to fulfill a lifelong dream. Both of the men read the brochures carefully before they responded to his invite to make sure that it was something that they both wanted to do. Wayne, who is the beefier of the two men, admits that he is a big nerd when it comes to anything that can help him learn how to enhance his brain in any way possible. His partner Lyle is the more cerebral one who thinks that this is a bit of a gimmick, but he loves Wayne tremendously and is willing to give it a try if needed. They both ended up arriving at the hotel where the seminar is being held a bit early to get a few things done. They both spend the afternoon together at a local restaurant for a little while before Steiner calls one of them to come back to the hotel to meet up with him to hang out before they all go to the event. They get to his room a few minutes later and both enter after he invites them in. They take seats in chairs located directly across from where Steiner is dressing. The fifty-something year old is someone that Wayne and Lyle never imagined they would become so close with. They first met him a few years prior when he was just a newbie in the gym. He was thin and discouraged and kept thinking that he was too old to start thinking about bulking up in any capacity. Wayne, who is a few years younger than Lyle, immediately saw him as a fatherly figure and wanted to help him achieve the body that he always dreamed about having before he ever met either of them. As he continues to dress for the seminar, Wayne grunts a few times as he studies the older man’s sculpted chest and roidy abdominals and stares at all of the nicely formed peaks and valleys in his shoulders, back, and along his neckline. Steiner notices that Wayne is looking at him and smiles as he adjusts the glasses on his face and lightly rubs his grayish colored beard that he has had for years. He walks over and kisses the younger man on the lips while Lyle watches and shakes his head. "You two have always had this communication thing going that I have never quite understood. If you were anyone else Richard I would probably beat you up." Steiner looks over and grins before he walks over to kiss Lyle on the lips as well before rubbing the thirty-somethings defined chest which tightly hugs his dress shirt and jacket. The older stud moans as he does this and looks into his deep brown eyes. "You know I care deeply about both of you Lyle. You both have changed my life in more ways than you will ever know. I have had equally stunning men want to have sex with me for months." Lyle chuckles before shaking his head and looking over at Wayne who is also shaking his head but in a different direction. The twenty-something gets up and walks over behind Steiner to help him adjust his tie and to help him button his shirt up. The older stud leans back against his thick hairy chest which strains against the fabric in his dress shirt and sighs loudly. Steiner’s hands wander towards Wayne’s crotch but Lyle motions for him to stop doing that. "Ahhh man, Wayne and me were just going to flirt a little bit that’s all. *He winks at Lyle* It isn’t my fault anyway, big W here is trying to get a rise out of me which is obviously working." "Yeah I know how Wayne is. He is horny 24 hours a day with all of that pent up testosterone. I have told him that he needs to do something about that since he never runs out it seems." Wayne runs his hands up and down Steiner’s shirt feeling his rock hard abs and firm pecs as he gives the mature stud a few kisses on his neck and face. The older man moans deeply as he turns around to kiss Wayne on the lips again. Lyle gets up and makes them both stop before it escalates into an all-out sex fest between the two of them. "Knock it off Beastman. Knowing you, you have already ruined the inside of your boxers. That cock of yours has a mind of its own and it has never stopped leaking since I have known you. I’m right, aren’t I?" Wayne giggles in his incredibly deep baritone and shakes his head yes. Steiner rubs Wayne’s beard which sends shivers up the beefy stud’s spine as he tries to behave himself. Lyle knows that he can’t stop them from going any further since he has seen this happen more than once. The two horny studs grunt several times before they tear each other’s shirts open and start massaging each other’s chests with their tongues. Lyle sits back down in one of the chairs to watch them get even more personal as Steiner unzips Wayne’s pants and pulls his boxers down to free his monster from its prison. He immediately gets down on his knees to gulp on the smaller beast and works it over vigorously. Wayne grunts loudly as he massages the bald-headed stud’s cranium feeling his balls straining against Richard’s beard. It is obvious that Steiner is hungry for his young friend’s sperm as he continues to work it over with a tremendous intensity. He feels the flood moving up into Wayne’s huge uncut cock very quickly and opens his mouth. "MMMMM FUCKING GAWD…..I can never get enough of your cum Wayne. You always taste so fucking incredible. You have to feed me that hot cum gorgeous I am so hungry for it." Wayne flexes his thick body as he showers Steiner with his load hitting him in the face and coating his glasses in the process. The older man locks his lips on the pulsing rod and gulps down every drop he can muster as Lyle watches his throat guzzle his lover’s cum. Steiner grips his young friend’s big furry ass as he lovingly sucks slowly on the big pole to get every single drop of cum out. He looks up at Wayne as he pulls his cock out of his mouth to kiss it a few times before letting it go. He then takes his glasses off so he can see as the beefy man leans down to pull his mature friend’s pants down to return the favor. Wayne then pushes him down on the bed before positioning himself in front of the rigid pole which is pulsing wildly in front of his face. He slaps Steiner’s cock on both of his cheeks before he slurps on the precum that is now dangling from the cockhead. Next he slowly gulps on it which sends shockwaves through the older man’s body as he makes the mature stud’s ballsac jump while he massages his pole. After a few minutes of licking and teasing it, Wayne can sense the volcano building up in his close friend’s balls as they swell up until they turn a deep purple color. Steiner grunts down at him to finish him off as his beefy partner works his cock with both of his hands and his mouth. The sweat pours profusely down the lean muscular man’s chest as he sprays Wayne with several jets of his manly cum. Wayne tries not to swallow any of it since Lyle doesn’t think it is too wise but his well-trimmed beard is entirely coated in it as it continues to drip off his face and chin. Lyle gets up and walks over to both of them to pull Wayne away from Steiner’s cock. "All right you horn dogs, you had your fun can we please finish getting ready for the seminar now?" They both laugh and agree that they are going to be late if they don’t move this along. Wayne puts his pants back on and makes sure that he isn’t too dirty from all of the cum and goes to wipe his face off in the bathroom. The completely drenched older man though will have to shower again since he is very dirty. Steiner tells both of them that he will see them later probably. As they leave, Lyle gives his partner a look that doesn’t look too promising as Wayne takes his dress shirt off and prances down the hall shirtless and smelling of musk. "Did you have fun beastie? I know you probably made Richard’s day memorable. You are still going to have to find a new shirt in our room so you might as well shower again yourself." Wayne giggles in his deep voice again as he finally stops fooling around. Lyle pushes him back into the hotel room and closes the door before they bother anyone else on that floor. The beefy beast strips naked and rushes into the shower to wash up again. Lyle goes over to the window and looks down at the line for the seminar. He comments that it looks like it is going to be a long wait if they don’t get moving which promptly gets Wayne to rush out of the shower to dry off. Lyle helps him get dressed quickly as they start to jog down the hall and into the nearby elevator. Wayne grunts each time he takes a step since his heaving pecs bounce up and down constantly. Lyle punches him in the gut as the elevator doors close behind them. Once they get to the bottom floor, they notice that the line into the auditorium is the length of the whole lobby. Lyle turns to Wayne and shakes his head no which immediately draws a sad look from the beefy stud’s face. "Ahh come on Lyle, Rich invited us here. The least we can do is stay for a little bit in case he sees us." Lyle shrugs his shoulders and agrees so they get in line. It takes nearly an hour for them to finally get into the auditorium which is packed with tons of hot guys, some of which Wayne can’t seem to take his eyes off of. His smaller, yet well-muscled partner notices his big cock tenting inside his pants as they sit in their seats. He slaps it several times making Wayne grab it as he grimaces in his direction. The lights go dim a few minutes later as a man walks out to the main podium located in the center of the stage in front of them. He makes a few comments before introducing the special guest for the event. As the guest comes out, you can hear people in the audience talking amongst themselves as they see that he is a red-skinned man wearing a black dress shirt and gray pants. Wayne and Lyle look on in disbelief as they have never seen such a sight before. The man grins for a few seconds before he introduces himself to the audience and proceeds to start his presentation. Someone in the gallery stands up and asks the man a very personal question about how he came to be of that skin color. The speaker laughs and point blank tells them that they wouldn’t want to know because it might scare them. Some of the audience laughs including Wayne. After going over the basis of the whole seminar the man steps away from the podium and walks over to the edge of the stage. He points directly at Wayne and motions for him to come forward as he will be part of his next segment. Lyle shakes his head and smiles as Wayne jumps up and starts walking towards the stage. The speaker motions for Lyle to come up as well as he figures out that they are a couple. Lyle reluctantly follows behind as they both get on stage with the red man. His powerful arms strain heavily against the black fabric on his shirt as he undoes the buttons on his forearms to peel the sleeves back. Wayne moans a bit as Lyle shoves him in his side while grinning at the same time. Some of the audience chuckles as they do this. The man leans over and whispers to both of them that he already knows how to proceed with the exercise so they should just go along with whatever happens next. Wayne and Lyle stare at each other as the man instructs them to both look directly at his face and not to move at all. He tells them to try and communicate with him without moving their body or their mouth. Wayne gets a bit frustrated after a couple of minutes of this because this isn’t something that he is used to doing. The presenter whispers his name Abel to them since it is also a part of the exercise. He smiles at Wayne and tells him to just calm down and to relax his body. He can pick up on Lyle though who is calmly breathing in and out while staring into the man’s brown eyes. Abel turns to look at the audience. "One of the volunteers up here is following the directions perfectly. It isn’t easy to attempt communication with each other without uttering a word, but he is surprisingly receptive to this method. Now, I am going to attempt to do something with you Lyle that might scare some people. I am going to hypnotize you, but you will still be able to function normally as you are right now. Do you want me to proceed?" Lyle seems a bit apprehensive at first but Wayne grabs his left hand and shakes his head yes. Lyle admits that he is enjoying this exercise a lot since he is a bit of an intellectual anyway so the red-skinned man lets the audience know that they are moving on to the next phase. He directs Lyle over to a stool which is just a few feet from where they are standing and has him sit on it. He tells Wayne to get behind Lyle so he can be involved in the exercise as well. He looks into Lyle’s eyes and starts talking very slowly making the fit doctor get a bit sleepy. After only a few seconds, he drifts off to sleep as Wayne puts his hands on his back to hold him up. Abel now looks up at Wayne and stares into his eyes. The beefy stud goes into a trance as well as the presenter continues to talk slowly making Wayne struggle to stay upright himself. Abel walks over beside him and grabs a hold of the big man’s waist as he continues to speak softly into his ear. Wayne closes his eyes and appears to be falling asleep as well. The man holds him up in place for about thirty seconds and slowly moves away from Wayne. The beefy stud doesn’t move from that spot which gets a few gasps from the audience before they start clapping. Once the gallery finishes applauding, Abel moves back over beside them and tells the people out in the auditorium that Lyle and Wayne will wake back up after he counts to three. After he finishes counting, both men open their eyes and look around trying to remember where they are. Wayne has a grin on his face as he looks over at the speaker before he starts talking. "I uhhhh……I feel a bit different man. I have this strange urge to……uhhhhh *pop* *stretch*…..MMMMMM…..ohhh shit! I thought I was…..*fabric strains*……oh shit……" Wayne feels his back expanding as his shirt underneath his jacket splits down the middle. His wool jacket follows directly after as his entire body starts growing. His pant seams shred as well since they unable to contain the massive tree trunks as they emerge victorious from their confines. Abel hears him grunting as he gets bigger destroying his entire outfit as his huge hairy upper body exposes itself within seconds as well as his huge rod which explodes out the zipper in his dress pants. It rubs up against Lyle’s head as he lets the growth completely take over. The horny giant moans as his attention turns to his lover Lyle who can feel it building up within his body as well. "NO, WAYNE NOT HERE! Oh fucking damnit……*stretch* “pop*……it shouldn’t feel this good should it?…..ohh my gawd my cock is going crazy now." Lyle feels his body straining as it tries to prevent what is happening to him from occurring. He is sweating profusely as he grabs his dress shirt and tears it open. His lean hairy pecs swell as the buttons on his shirt and jacket fly off and end up in the audience. Some of the people in the audience gasp as they see both of them transforming into muscle giants. Lyle jumps to his feet and puts his head in his hands as his clothes are quickly obliterated under the size and power of the incredibly round and shapely muscles that are expanding onto his frame. Wayne is now nearly 400 pounds as he growls with excitement. He turns to look over at Abel who seems a bit surprised by how strong this man’s lust for muscle really is. Some of the audience is really frightened as they start to shuffle out the back doors. Some though are getting quite turned on and can’t help themselves as they start to stroke their cocks and rub their clits. Wayne notices that Abel is changing himself now. His cock bursts through his pants as it swells to twice its size. The giant beefy beast can’t take his eyes off of it as the red-skinned man destroys his clothes within seconds as his muscles double up on themselves. The man’s huge cockhead gapes open as he shoots several massive streams of cum into the audience. Wayne and Lyle feel their cocks swelling as well as their balls stretch to their limits. Both of them yell in ecstasy as they spray the audience as well with multiple streams of thick spunk. Without even noticing that he was there, Richard Steiner had managed to move directly into the path of all three cum streams and was getting completely drowned in all of it, coating his face, clothes, and the few people that were around him. They immediately feel the effects of the cum as their clothes start ripping apart. Richard roars in delight as his lean frame reshapes itself as his chest and arms blow up making his suit explode into pieces as he grows to twice his size. He feels a surge of energy he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager as well as his glasses snap in half. He continues to get wider as he grips his thick hands on two chairs that are behind him and rips them completely out of the floor. He grunts as he feels the power raging throughout his body as he eclipses 350 pounds and launches the chairs up into the air as they land close to two other growing studs nearby. The few women in the audience are growing as well as their feminine frames transform into Amazonian proportions as their tits double up in size as well as their arms and legs. Wayne bends his lover Lyle over to plunge his massive rod inside him while Abel jumps down off the stage to start walking up the main aisle towards the back of the auditorium. He stops once he gets to the end of the walkway as his cock shrinks back to its original size. The rest of his body follows as well after as he sees the destruction around him unfold. The couples that stayed to watch the carnage are getting the aftereffects of a growth cycle they never thought they would ever be a part of. Men and women have started having sex with each other while others like Richard Steiner are so hyped up on adrenaline that they are tearing up whatever they can get their hands on. Wayne and Lyle finally stop growing once the hairy giant reaches 600 pounds and his intelligent partner stops at around 450 pounds. The sheer force behind their fucking shakes the stage to the point that the walls crack around them and the floor nearly buckles. Richard stops growing once he gets to 500 pounds and is entirely unrecognizable. The grey body hair and aging skin is all but a memory as he looks more like his two friends now rather than their daddy. After getting a lot of his aggression out, he decides to hop up onto the stage to join his close friends to plug his cock inside Wayne’s mouth. The extra weight finally makes the stage give way as the floor crumbles and falls in taking the three giants down with it. Abel smiles and shakes his head in disbelief as he exits through the back doors. The owners of the hotel called the police once they began hearing strange things happening through the walls. When the cops finally do show up, they end up becoming victims themselves as the swarm of muscle behemoths tackle them on the ground and start humping and pumping their seed down the cops’ throats. The escalation of the whole event continues as it passes on the policemen who can do little to avoid destroying their uniforms as their giant muscles appear within seconds. Abel successfully managed to hide in a nearby bathroom long enough to get past them and rushes out the front lobby without getting caught. Nobody notices him leaving in his car as well as he drives off fulfilling the mission that his congregation had set up for him in the first place. Here are other Body Good installments: Sex Parts 1 and 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2258-sex-does-a-body-good-2-parts/ Achilles: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2250-achilles-does-a-body-good/ The Protein series: Protein (original story): https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2276-protein-does-a-body-good/ The sequel trilogy: Prelude: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4658-prelude-to-more-satisfied-customers-protein-does-more-than-one-body-good-1-of-3/ Boys to Men: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4743-from-boys-to-men-protein-does-more-than-one-body-good-2-of-3/ Men to Gods: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4828-when-men-become-gods-protein-does-more-than-one-body-good-3-of-3/

Before I go to the train, I post a short story. Muscle Growth in Plato’s Republic I see that you are awake. Hush. There is no reason to yell. You will only damage your ability to listen, if you yell that loudly inside your chamber, considering its lack of furniture, its lack of cloth and the fact that the walls consist of metal. Who I am, is not your business, but I am permitted to reassure you, that I speak on behalf of The Leadership. I speak to you through these loud-speakers. That mirror is actually a window. I watch you through it. Hello to you. There is no reason rant like that. What would you prefer? The old systems were apalling. One of them categorised persons after their pigmentation, and put some persons in ovens. Another one robbed persons working in agricultural production of their homes and working tools, boasted over alleged equality, while their leadership lived in an opulence that the productive classes were denied. A third one was ruled by the rich one percent. A fourth was ruled by skillful demagogues. Almost all of the old systems put too much executive power in only one person’s hand – a system waiting for to be abused. Seriously, do you really want to have any of these systems back? Ah. You are returning to more immediate questions? The reason for not remembering, is that you were anaesthetized during sleep. Your whereabouts… Let me return to that shortly. You can’t accuse The Leadership of that. Come now. Really? You ought to be well aware, that The Leadership lives in considerably more ascetic conditions than the Productive Classes. Moderation is a virtue. The Productive Classes are given the sort of housing they desire, the food they desire, credits to buy clothes of their own choice from the 156 different licenced brands, and unlimited access to all TV and film. They are given exactly what they want. How many of their forebears actually used their so-called suffrage before The Great Reform? Freezing? Yes, of course you are freezing. You are stark naked and strapped to a metal bench with a plastic cushion. Anyone would freeze under those conditions. Don’t interrupt me. Your new buzzcut suits you, by the way. But, as I said before, The Leadership lives in considerably more ascetic conditions than the Productive Classes. Equity! Prudence! Bravery! Moderation! The Productive Classes are allowed to have appetites. The Leadership are not. Or like that eastern writer, of whom our Founding Parents were so fond, put it: The Leadership shall show benevolence to the subjects, and put public duty before self-interest, while The Defenders and The Productive Classes shall show due respect to The Leadership. Is it too much to ask? We who belong to The Leadership do not own any private property, are not allowed to chose which clothes to wear, and our food is carefully calculated to be healthy, but not exactly tasty. I know the difference. As so many else of us, I grew up in The Productive Classes, just like you, but my achievements at the diagnostic tests in school brought me to the attention of The Supervisor, and I was transferred to a B-class for evaluation, and, when the evaluation turned out Code Green, to an A-class for further education. Do you know, that we have to study mathematics until age 30? We are not allowed to watch TV or films, since entertainment is distracting from duty. There are benefits and drawbacks with every position in society, but it is constructed in order to make all of us happy, regardless if you belong to The Leadership, The Defenders or The Productive Classes. Different personality types find happiness in different sorts of lifestyles. Nowadays I like the serene, uncluttered surroundings in The Leadership quarters, and find the over-decorated homes of The Productive Classes slightly tacky. My parents regard the lifestyle I have to lead is too stern and joyless, but the thing is: We find happiness in different sorts of things. Why is it important to wear a shirt with a particular embrodiery on one side of the chest and not another one? You are right. I talk too much about myself. I haven’t got rid of some Plebby traits enough. I have to consult my shrink tomorrow. Let’s talk about you instead: Transferred from C-class to B-class at a very early age, but was returned to C-class at age 14 when puberty distracted you. Performed well in social studies before age 14, but began to behave in rebellious fashion from that age on. Good results in PE. Produce less than average at your office employment. Your registered attendance at institutions for physical exercise is higher than average. Shows ability to sacrifice time and unhealthy food, for the higher goal of fitness. Your social life is mapped and evaluated to have a high exchange of known dissidents. Warmer now? Good. I thought it was just a matter of time, before you would feel better in your metallic surroundings. Of course we have to make use of surveillance of everyone’s life! Otherwise the terrorists will win. And we will have The Defenders patrol the streets, in order to ensure public safety and security. Personally, I admire the Defenders: These tall, powerful men in uniform, who serve to protect all of us. I definitely lack what it takes to become one of them. Wrong personality type. Not understand why anyone would join The Defenders? As I said before, our pursuit is to assure that everyone in society will be happy. The Productive Classes wish to consume commodities, even if that mean that they will not enjoy suffrage. The Leadership enjoy unlimited information, the opportunity to use of our minds, and responsibilities in government, even if that mean we have to refuse property and close relations. The Defenders… Have you noticed… Oh. Sorry. Do you feel well? That spasm looked uncomfortable. No? You are fine? Good. You must have noticed how badly performing children are demoted to The Productive Classes if they are evaluated Code Red in school. And you must have noticed how children from The Productive Classes are transferred to A-classes if they are evaluated Code Green in school. Our Founding Parents was adamant, that we were not supposed to become a caste society. Meritocracy and mechanisms, to ensure movement from one state of life to another, were the foundations on which this Republic was built. But have you ever noticed anyone to be recruited to The Defenders in school? Or have you ever met a child of Defender parents? My questions are rhetorical of course, this fine art, which Cicero was an expert of. The problem with the police and the armed forces in the old systems in the bygone world, was that they sometimes attracted the wrong sort of people. Someone, who would be prone to abuse his power, would be unsuitable as a Defender, but in the old systems the position as a Defender attracted that sort of people. There existed dutiful and idealistic persons too, of course, but, despite that some of them sincerely wished to serve and protect, there was a risk with the old system. I don’t know if you remember the ancient state called Turkey, for instance. Several times its army toppled the democratically elected government. Similar things happened in a state called Burma, but I don’t know if you read about that in C-class history lessons. Even in C-class you must have read about the atrocities committed by Gestapo and Stasi? Oh my! That looks uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do? No? Good? Feels so good? That sounds fine and dandy. Nothing to worry about, then? What is happening to you? Actually, I was just on my way to explain that. That muscle tone suits you, by the way. Oh, yes! The Defenders, then. The conundrum for every state, is to be sure that persons guarding the state and the general public against enemies without and within, don’t abuse their power. A state like ours, for instance, could risk to be toppled by The Defenders, and turned into a military dictatorship, and we can’t have that, can we? The solution our Founding Parents choose, was to ensure that The Defenders don’t have offspring, and actually is the least free of our inhabitants. That doesn’t mean that Defenders are not happy. As I said before: There are benefits and drawbacks with every position in society, but it is constructed in order to make all of us happy, regardless if you belong to The Leadership, The Defenders or The Productive Classes. Different personality types find happiness in different sorts of lifestyles. And I now come to the question: How would you find happiness? Your outspoken views about The Leadership are misguided, and easily corrected by the mind-control program that is running in your brain just now. Your wariness of power-abuse, on the other hand, is a useful virtue in a society like ours. It ought to be encouraged, especially in a Defender. Not a Defender? Oh come now. At this stage you must understand what’s going on. Defenders are not born. They are made. I read your psychological profile. You like to be re-programmed. Thinking of it: I don’t any longer have to read your psychological profile to see that you like the re-programming. Some gymboys work out in order to compensate for something, but I notice that that reason don’t apply to you. Shouting abuse despite this high frequency of brainwave re-programming? That means that you have a strong will. Good. That’s another virtue of a Defender. The warm feeling, which drives the cool temperature away in your chamber, is caused by the injection you received while asleep. Based on your height, weight, age, and the time which has lapsed since the injection was administered, I would make an educated guess, that it is still intensifying in effect. If you enjoy this feeling, I can bring you pleasure by informing you, that the enhancement of your body tissues and physique has just began. When this process has reached its goal you have become a Defender. That’s the spirit! It seems like some inhibitions are removed? Yes, you are right. These biceps are indeed ’fucking big’. And yes, these abdominal muscles are very hard, but don’t you think that overuse of the word ’fucking’ is emptying it of its rhetoric impact? Yes! Give in to it! You know that you like re-programming! Ooops. Not all of the recruits shout that much. So. So. Just breathe. It breaks you in order to rebuild you into a stronger being. Yes, just like that. That sounds confident. Yes, I agree, these vein-covered quads and thighs are, as you put it, ’awesome’. I’m literally full in awe over the muscle mass you are achieving, and it seems like you are, too. I know, by experience, that it is best to inform you, that the process will now enter the next phase. Yes, that’s right. This is just the beginning. No, there will be more. No, I’m not kidding. Yes, you don’t have to ask for it. I will ’bring it on’. You can trust me in that regard. You start and wrench unusually much. Are you okey? Never felt better? Good. I hoped that you would accept the process at last. Proud to be a Defender? Good. Yes, I hear that you think it’s good, too. Too good to be true? But it is true. Wait for phase three. Yes, there are further phases. Can’t take any more? I’m sorry, but the procedure must go on, when it has started. Safety protocol demand that we finish this. Oh, look at those lats! And your traps and shoulders! You respond unusually well to the treatment. Yes, you are unusually big, already. I can’t imagine how you will look when this is finished. I don’t need any encouragement. I’m already looking at you. And what a sight you are! That’s my cocky lad! If that is a good expression at your age. Damn. I am beginning to sound unusually emotional. I must see my shrink tomorrow. If I can’t compose myself, I might be demoted to the Productive Classes. If I'm willing to pay that price for watching your humungousness? I… I… I don’t know. Oh, aren’t you a miracle? Those hard pillows of a chest… Becoming like basket balls now. Yes, I would moan too, if that happened to me. Initiating Phase three. I thought, that you just said, that you can’t take any more? Give you all? Yes. Everything in due time. More? Yes, you will have more. I adjust the controls here manually, to quicken the process somewhat. We can’t hurry too much outside the ordinary parameters. No one knows what would happen to your organism then. ’Beef?’ That’s a word for it. ’Powerhouse’. Yes, that’s another one. Oh, my! You broke your restraints. They were for your own safety, you know. A lot of subjects shake so violently, that they risk to harm themselves. Yes, I’m looking at you. Oh. Yes. Definitively as volleyballs. And these football shoulders! You are not supposed to do that. Hot? Well, ehrm… We in The Leadership are not supposed to think about such things. Initiating Phase Four. No. I can’t. Oh. I’m not supposed to… I’m here to guide you through the process, not watch you in another capacity… Oh! Oh, uh! No! I can’t… Don’t tease me like that. Goddammit, I’m a doctor, not a … And those veins! Covering your legs and your chest… I don’t believe my eyes! A behemoth of raw untamed power! And the monumental calves of yours, protruding, bulgingly, still pulsating… The hypertrophic powerfield surrounding you… stimulating you… No! No! I said, don’t tease me! I don’t… You insanely ultra-masculine brute, you don’t understand, I can’t… Oh! Uh! Join you? No, I can’t… No, I can’t, oh… So this is how the sluice works? What am I doing here? I’m not supposed to… I return out of this sluice. It’s too dangerous. I’m not evaluated… I’m not scheduled… I don’t fit the personality test… Uhn. Enter. YES! TOGETHER WITH YOU! BECOMING A DEFENDER! THE POWER! THE ALL-CONSUMING POWER! TOO MUCH… I… OH! YES! UHN! UHN! COMPUTER: INTENSIFY PROCESS Process intensified, and increasing

Hey guys Sorry for the long delay, but sometimes you just need to wait for the right mood to strike, so I've been keeping this one for a while, but I hope you still remember this tale. If not, it's okay, you will find the previous parts here I really wanted to build this strong bond between Uncle Steve and Johnny, I hope you enjoy. THE AGE OF MUSCLEGODS Story by Muscl4life Part VII I followed Uncle Steve’s directions and soon got to our destination. Until a month ago, Sam’s Dinner was an abandoned hangar until owner Patrick Gardner decided to open a restaurant focused on a literally expanding market composed exclusively by elderly enormous and still growing muscleman with increasing hunger. “Good morning welcome to Sam’s Dinner, we have enough to feed a platoon of men, or just a few SMM’s” the host said very comfortable with the uncanny view of my humongous Uncle Steve. Only in a place like that, they would allow a guest dressed in nothing but skin tight tank top and a ridiculous tiny thong. In fact, instead of beautiful lass, this place had a 6’2” young handsomely buffed dark haired guy for host, wearing spandex black shorts and sleeveless white tank top. “Hey there, Evan, how are you doing today?” Uncle Steve replied, basking in the fact the hot guy still hasn’t recognized him. Steve approached Alex, which made me realize he was much taller as well. At 6’8” and weighing 1,650 pounds of hard massive manly muscle, the new and much improved Uncle Steve was not easily recognizable. The look on the host’s gorgeous face when he finally realized the identity of his “newest” SMM customer was priceless. “Steve? Oh my GOD! It finally happened to you! Holy Shit, you look HUGE!” The host exclaimed as he hugged my humongous Uncle, who still carried me in his arms. “Yeah, it finally did…All thanks to my Johnny. He made me grow like that in less than 24 hours” Uncle Steve said as he supported two grown men in his massive hug. “Oh….you look exactly like your huge Uncle” Evan said as he looked at me and chuckled. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you…” “Thanks, and I am sorry for his attire, we are still adapting to his change…” I blushed; somewhat proud, since he noticed I was just the spitting, although much smaller and younger, image of my humongous Daddy/Uncle. “Don’t worry, we have seen much worse here. At least he is still wearing some kind of clothes; some of our guests wrapped themselves in bed sheets. It’s like every day is Toga Party day! Wow, you have grown all that in less than 24 hours. Fuck you’re gonna get REALLY impressive even for SMM standards” Alex commented, not bothered by the fact we were both adult men being carried like children. “Is everything okay here?” Patrick Garden asked, flashing an adorable white smile. That guy was also impressive, standing at 6’2” and 250 pounds of thick muscle in a buffed physique, porcelain skin and flaming red hair, but for some reason his face was no strange to me. “Pat…look, Uncle Steve joined the SMM boat!” Evan said pounding the humongous chest of my Uncle who just towered over the red haired guy. “How is it going, cub? I hope you guys have lots of food for a growing geezer like me!” Uncle Steve smiled down at Patrick, as the owner stepped back to admire the picture. “Damn Steve…it was about time! I have just the right thing for a newly growing man”. Patrick announced proudly. “Sounds legit!” Uncle Steve replied. “Great, so if you please…” Pat led the way to our table. “Uncle, you should at least put Evan back in the ground, the man needs to work…” I whispered. “Oh sorry, Alex, you’re just so fucking tight for all this muscle now…” Uncle Steve gently put the host back in the ground. “It’s fine with me, Steve. I love when huge papas carry me! Enjoy your meal” Alex said as he returned to his affairs. The large facility was perfect to accommodate such immense patrons. Instead of the regular booths and stools along the countertop, there were dozens of impressively long wooden tables and matching benches arranged in rolls. It actually made easier to sit regular sized and SMM guests. Actually, Uncle Steve was the first huge senior citizen at the dinner. We looked around and there were only a few other guys, which, judging by their shock at the size of my Uncle, were not aware that it was a SMM friendly restaurant. “Come on Steve, please sit in the big men’s place.” Pat pointed to a specially reinforced bench. “Thanks, son.” This was a special table designed in two levels, one for regular customers and another for the humongous men. I sat on my place and l noticed how much bigger and thicker my Uncle seemed, with his bulging muscles and enormous veins crossing the enormity of this of his physique. “So, do you suggest something for a starving newly-growing geezer?” Steve asked with utmost pride of his new condition. “Oh, we most certainly do. I have developed a new special with the help of our huge friends. It’s a delicious protein packed feast that will get your day going!” Pat showed us the menu and I nearly fainted. “That must be more than a superheavyweight bodybuilder eats in a whole day!” I whistled going through the many components of the order. “They should change that name…they’re not really superheavyweight…not when compared to real men right, Steve?” Pat joked and both of them laughed out loud. “Well, I’m starving…bring it on…” Uncle Steve returned the menu back to Pat. “I’ll just have the waffles with fruit salad…” “Oh no, you won’t. Bring him the trigger platter.” Steve picked the menu from my hands and gave it back to Pat. “Right away, Steve.” He said before getting back to the kitchen. “Are you sure you can eat that amount of food? I mean beef steaks, tuna steaks, grilled chicken breasts, 36 egg-white omelet, 4 pounds of hash brown, 5 protein shakes included.” “All before lunch time!” Uncle Steve laughed as we both heard his groaning stomach. “I am not really hungry now…I don’t know if I can eat this trigger platter you ordered for me.” “Nonsense, you are a growing boy…and I must make sure you have the right amount of nutrition to feed my growth. Look at Patrick, isn’t he hot? He and his brother Robert are hot little muscle triggers…” “Wait, isn’t this Robert guy the trigger for Colonel Durant?” It was then I realized that Patrick was the spitting image of Bobby, the red haired trigger of Colonel Durant, the SMM I met in the road incident. “Well, yeah, you must remember Kent and Roger were the SMM’s who cleared the road yesterday. Their triggers are all twin muscular youngsters. Bobby triggered Kent, and Patrick actually triggered Carlos, the chief of our volunteer firefighter squad. Evan is the twin brother of Skyler, and they both are triggers of Roger, that lucky bastard got two of them. Carlos was actually busy rescuing people from a fire at our hometown. It was an action packed day for SMM’s, and I can barely wait to be my turn to show off to the media like that!” Uncle Steve replied rubbing his hands together. “No wonder they opened this place, they sure understand their market demands” I casually commented, looking over the spacious ambiance the thoughtfully designed furniture to accommodate such massive elder men along with his much smaller partners. “They sure do, I am a regular customer here ever since they opened.” Uncle Steve commented as he flexed his immensely developed biceps, so hard and veined, swallowing nearly twice the size of my own head. “It certainly brings back bittersweet memories, doesn’t it daddy?” I reached for the immense muscle and massaged it with my hands, worshipping my muscle daddy was not my obligation; it became the reason for my life, so it was a natural reaction. “Yep, I used to come here just to see these guys growing, and soon I’ll get much bigger than those fuckers.” There was a glint in Uncle Steve’s eyes and I just knew his hunger for size was truly immense. “Daddy, I don’t mean to brag, but you already are much bigger than these guys.” I chuckled mischievously. “How can you be so sure, son?” Uncle Steve asked clearly excited. “Didn’t you notice the staff texting like crazy right after you arrived? The news about a new HUGE SMM in town is spreading fast. I can also tell by the lustful looks in their faces that they all attest you are indeed a bigger, thicker, broader, denser and manlier Senior Muscle Men.” “You think I’ve impressed these triggers? They are indeed used to prime beef muscle daddy.” “Well, yeah, but these guys have been growing for the past weeks and months, you only had your growth spurt in less than 24 hours. I have seen Colonel Durant and his associates yesterday. Back then I was flabbergasted with their size, thickness, muscular density and strength, but it was before…” I blushed deeply. “You mean before triggering me right?” Uncle Steve grabbed my hands and kissed them tenderly. It was a communal feeling that bonded us together and I loved the fact we were so deeply connected to the point we were finishing off each other’s sentences. “Yeah…I just got so deep into our own triggering that I’ve forgot all about the other SMM’s. But for some reason my mind can focus on them, comparing the mental images I have with your incredible stats…it’s just, something natural.” I tried to explain with words but suddenly I felt it was unnecessary. “I know exactly what you mean, Johnny-boy. I feel exactly the same way. I am surrounded by the hottest guys in the world, who clearly want me to fuck them, but I only have eyes for you. It’s not that I am not horny enough, but it’s not just about fucking them, it is all about making you…” “Even more fascinated by you. I got that daddy. I want that too…I want you to grow bigger, harder, more massive, more muscular. I wish I could retrigger you just to make sure those guys wouldn’t ever hold a candle to your size…” I was so horny that I took hard bites at my daddy’s super hard muscle, licking the steel hard veins. That powerful wave which connected our minds and souls beyond my comprehension struck us both even harder that time. In one second, it felt like Uncle Steve overrode my own control. I just felt his desire for growing and changing overcoming my very needs and passions. At the same time, my love and lust towards his muscles and powerful being meant the only important thing in his life. I felt dizzy for a moment, such kind of deep immersion in your fantasy-come-true can be really demanding. At that point, I realized I was famished, but my own hunger seemed to be another command of my monster muscle daddy. “Geesh, Uncle Steve…you’re bulging everywhere… This must be really intense for you as well” I chuckled, trying to cool myself down before I busted a nut in the restaurant. “You have no idea boy. I can feel every single muscle getting ready to grow even bigger…” Uncle Steve chuckled; he easily picked me from the lower side and placed me right at his side, stretching his humongous muscular arm around me and lifting my own figure, rebuilt to look exactly like a younger miniature of his own monstrosity. “Here you are gentlemen!” Pat himself pushed a catering cart towards our table, and it was indeed a banquet for most men, but only breakfast for those gifted immensely muscular senior citizens. The host’s grin faded from his face once he realized the incredibly intimidating expression on Uncle Steve, but he still gathered enough courage to stand there for some reason. “Thank you so much, Pat!” I squeezed the mountainous bicep of my humongous muscle daddy in order to make him snap out of the hunger trance. My fingers were white of so much pressure, and I am sure he felt squat, but something finally made the glorious silver monster notice Pat was still standing right next to him “Smells wonderful Pat! I am fucking FAMISHED!” Uncle Steve said with renewed enthusiasm, so Pat decided to ask at once. “You’re more than welcome Steve, sir. Can I ask you to take a picture of you? I love registering new SMM’s as they appear. And you are the one we all have been waiting to change.” Pat blushed deeply and we both smiled back at him. “I thought you would never ask, pup! Go ahead; take my first picture as SMM! You’d better register it now because I will much, much bigger sooner than you think!” Uncle Steve stood up and proudly hit his favorite poses such as front double biceps, most muscular and side chest with flawless technique. Pat took dozens of pictures on his cell phone and I could see his cock was harder than steel inside his tight pants. It was then I felt something happening inside me. In the next moment I was able to feel the same lust, but it was a new perspective, that of Patrick’s. It was so amazing; I could see Uncle Steve’s glorious rugged physique from his eyes, the imagery flooding my own naughty mind with the freshness of this heightened experience. At that same time, I felt Uncle Steve was aware of my own discoveries. I felt him guiding me, giving me the confidence to probe deeper into Pat’s mind to feed on his own lust and increase my hunger to imbue more muscle and power inside my masterful muscle monster daddy. Uncle Steve posed for Pat, who remained clueless about the fact that the two of us probed deeper into his mind, improving the already impressive hunger for muscle in his trigger essence to feed our own bond even further. As my glorious silver behemoth posed for the unsuspicious viewer, we dwelled in the very mind of Patrick, experiencing his excitement to witness such masculine, powerful, invincible master daddy showing off the true essence of manliness. Uncle Steve commanded the whole thing with his masterful posing techniques. He managed to keep the cockish, casual yet very demanding attitude, posing in different angles and twisting his muscles to show Patrick the amazing truth about his SMM condition. In truth, my masterful daddy acted precisely as the embodiment of Patrick’s fantasies, digging for details on how he wanted his ideal daddy to act and pose. Meanwhile, I indulged Patrick’s mind to surrender into the display of masculinity. The entrepreneur forgot all his inhibitions and approached the immensity of Uncle Steve’s muscles. “That’s it, boy. Come closer to daddy. You want to feel small and weak next to a real man, don’t you little dude?” Uncle Steve asked, with such masculine sureness that Patrick just nodded, blushing deeply. “I bet not even your own daddy isn’t this massive and powerful huh? Go ahead; grope the bicep of a REAL SMM!” Uncle Steve grinned as the hand reached for the warm, hard, throbbing immensity of his glorious gigantic muscle. At that moment, I realized Uncle Steve’s real intent with all that teasing and felt my heat skipping a beat. At the same time, my own super charged submissive towards my monstrous super muscular daddy overcame my senses and the result of such powerful combination was that Pat blew a huge load inside his legs without even touching himself, and I also felt my hot cream spreading on my groin, but the furniture comfortably concealed my embarrassment. Only Uncle Steve continued there, flexing and teasing like a sadistic muscle monster. Patrick held his bicep with all his might, his eyes rolling inside sockets. I wasn’t in much better condition, but the immense arm of my daddy tightly closed around me kept my body from sliding in the seat. “So Pat, did you have enough? Can I eat now?” Uncle Steve asked, he never pretended that he did not notice the huge cum stain on Pat’s obvious bulge. “Yeah…fuck…so hot…I am sorry sir…I just…enjoy your meal.” Pat said as he turned back and literally rushed towards his office. Uncle Steve chuckled and made me seat right on his immense lap, I felt his glorious python of a cock pressing my butt as he kissed my cheeks. “You are such a naughty boy…” “What was that about?” I asked barely recovered from such extreme pleasing experience. “That’s the power we have, boy. You and I together can feed in the power of the triggers. When I connect with you, we can do anything. I just gave you a glimpse of what is about to come.” He chuckled as he finally started devouring the feast before us. It was not a pretty sight, Uncle Steve just attacked the food and forgot all about politeness, simply devouring piece after piece, barely chewing, just stuffing his face with more food. At each mouthful my glorious silver muscle daddy gulped down, I could actually notice the bulging on his immense bulking physique. It was as if his entire body was bubbling, getting ready to explode. Uncle Steve seemed to feel not just the delicious flavor of the food, but also the whole feeding process, he moaned as his body quickly absorbed the rich protein contents of the enormous meal. “Damn boy, wait till you feel this next surge. You’re gonna cream your pants in three seconds.” My immense daddy said with smirk as he blinked at me. At first, I just humored him, blushing as usual, but the next second I was simply taken aback by this unexpected surge of power, rushing from the amazing Senior Muscle Man at my side, and taking over my feelings, reason and soul. “Holy shit…Uncle Steve…” I said before that indescribable, yet very familiar feeling overpowered my very thoughts. Another growth spurt taking place right there at the restaurant, and this time I knew it in my guts that this one would take him much further than the previous growth spurts. “Oh yeah…I’m growing babe!” Uncle Steve said as he continued to stuff his face, barely registering that his makeshift clothing already ripped from his expanding proportions. Before I could think of something, his shirt turned into shreds and the thong just exploded. In a shocking glorious moment, his mighty cock abruptly regained its freedom, getting even longer and thicker along with the heavy huge ball sac, which fought with the increasing thickness of his trunk-sized thighs. “Damn…I feel so much better like this! I will never try to hide my ever growing size from this tiny world again!” Uncle Steve said with mouth still full of food. Although he promised never to get dressed again, I knew he adored the feeling of outgrowing the clothes with nothing but the size of his increasing physique. The glorious boulder-like shoulders increased their already incredible size, growing thicker, wider, and denser; the veins crossing its rugged surface engorged at plain sight. At the same time, the attached deltoids improved in girth, while the mountainous biceps ballooned even further, splitting and reshaping the manly fibers of the glorious peak, making it thicker, wider and more marvelous than ever. My immense master looked down at me with a grin in his hyper masculine face. “Oh yeah, son. I can tell in advance you’re gonna love what I’ve got for you!” His deepening voice, so masculine, so demanding, and yet so soothing, echoed inside the spacious diner. I was so lost in the moment, it actually took me a moment to realize what Uncle Steve meant, but then again, I was always two or three steps behind my immense SMM. “Fuck…” I gasped at once. All of a sudden, my own muscles felt tighter and harder than ever. I clenched my teeth as the wave of pleasure and power surged from Uncle Steve to my own body. “That’s it boy, you need to get ready for my new body. You are my son, and you will readjust according to my own immense image, but much smaller of course. You know I dig having you as a hot tight mini-me.” He chuckled, as another growth spasm erupted into his already inhumanly massive frame, expanding his boulder like shoulders even further. “Shit…How you can even endure this…” I gasped for air, feeling my own body reacting to the changes on my muscle daddy. My cock was aching hard and my heart pounded inside my chest. At each passing second, I could tell my body was changing further, adapting to the very wishes of my immense muscle master. “Heh, you didn’t even begin to feel the power of it, son. That’s okay; you will only have what I know you can take. Daddy’s always in charge.” He said, picking me in his arms and flexing a mountainous biceps that grew so immensely bigger that I had no other choice but hug the boulder of manly strength and hug it with my both arms, yet still not able to encompass the whole thing. “Yes, boy…feel it! See how much bigger your daddy will grow! Make me bigger my trigger!” He commanded me with such presence that I had no other choice but roaring out of pleasure as my body overfilled with the utmost love towards my massive master. The combination of my uncontrollable sexual ecstasy and the supernatural bond between Uncle Steve and myself was so intense that Uncle Steve himself stopped eating for a second to release a primal cry, which sounded so manly and so powerful that every man in the room just got an instant boner. “That’s it, Johnny, bring them to me!” Uncle Steve’s humongous frame expanded even further as he caressed my own growing physique, his enormous manly gnaw groping my muscles and easily crushing them in such a sensual way that it caused me even more pleasure than pain. “Shit, look at those guys! They’re BOTH growing!” Evan moaned as he noticed both of us growing right in front of their eyes. Until that special moment, no one had ever seen a trigger growing along with his daddy. I looked at the shocked audience and flexed for their amusement. “My daddy knows his boy needs to be big and strong to endure his demands!” I was surprised to the masculine tone of my voice. The other triggers in the restaurant approached us, amazed to the fact a young trigger was growing along with his immensely elder muscle god. Sure, to each pound my body managed to pack, Uncle Steve seemed to gain 20 hard pounds of hard muscle with such easiness that our growth was not comparable. Still, they could not deny the fact that I grew in synch with my daddy, each muscle bulging and growing at the same time, but not in the same pace, neither in the same intensity. Uncle Steve just looked down at me and chuckled. “Yeah, boy, you must grow bigger too. I want you to be able to keep up with my growth, at least in theory, because you know this kind of growth is deserved for a muscle god like your dad.” Patrick and Evan stood so close to us, but still keeping a respectful distance, and I knew deep down they were feeling terribly guilty for lusting so vividly after Uncle Steve. After all, they had their own sentimental bond with their respective SMM’s, and such emotional link was indeed remarkable. Uncle Steve then picked me and ripped my clothes with his teeth. He kissed me passionately, turned me upside down in a swift, yet powerful maneuver, only to insert his manly rough tongue down my anus, spreading my growing muscular legs and burying his masculine face between my butt cheeks. Meanwhile, I knew exactly what I had to do. Uncle Steve worked on my body to fill me with pleasure and it fueled my power to dig deeper inside the triggers’ minds. Evan and Patrick felt torn between the desire to worship Uncle Steve and their dedication towards their own respective alphas. Breaking that bond would be actually easier than I first anticipated. Those guys were so horny after Uncle Steve that I only had to push the right buttons, reassuring them that making Uncle Steve grow was not any kind of treason, quite the contrary, they would be helping the Senior Muscle Men to get even bigger, because Uncle Steve was the most developed, the future of their marvelous kind! Right before I accomplished my mission, I felt my own hesitation. I was not sure I should unleash their powers towards Uncle Steve. “Damn boy, you are getting better at this!” It was Uncle Steve’s masculine presence in my mind’s eye. His marvelous size, his phenomenal power spearing even further inside the limitless reality of that dreamlike world. “Uncle Steve…you are really here aren’t you? This is not any product of my subconscious…” The monstrous powerful being that had simply materialized in my own imagination world, seemed even bigger than I had seen him last. The glorious silver haired behemoth filled my view and all my other senses. “Stop analyzing everything, son. Yeah, I am here all right, I can do anything you can, and much more. We are now ready to go even further. I need you make them trigger me again.” “I know, but…what will it do to you? I mean to us…this bond we share right now…I don’t want to share it with anyone else. I mean I love to grow you, and the only one who can do it…” “You are still be the only one able to grow me, my boy. You just need more power and these guys can provide it. Think on them as extra energy to feed my muscles. I need to GROW and GROW much bigger than you can even imagine, tiny Johnny. Now serve your master at once!” At that moment, I snapped from the mental bond and found myself back at the diner, with my growing monstrously huge muscle master eating my boy cherry while the two triggers, whose cocks were harder than never. I looked at Evan and Patrick and opened a warm inviting smile to them. Their fears and the guilty disappeared; they were ready to use their trigger power to unleash even more muscle growth into Uncle Steve. “Come on, boys…I need you NOW!” Uncle Steve said, taking his masculine face from my butt and gently replacing it with his massive manly cock, which, albeit the augmented size and girth, went smoothly and sensually inside my clinched butthole, sending me such powerful waves of muscle growth pleasure that I felt like I’d pass out right then. At the same moment, the released triggers looked at Uncle Steve, who flexed a most muscular pose to let them know they now belonged to him. The intensity of that moment challenged descriptions. Patrick and Evan hugged the immensity of Uncle Steve’s frame, kissing his face and worshipping his glorious rugged giant sized muscles. The combined power of those triggers and my own psychic abilities, masterfully orchestrated by the amazing mind of my immensely powerful muscle daddy resulted in not just another growth spurt. In non-technical language, it was an evolutionary step. Uncle Steve’s body launched into new heights and standards, even among SMM’s. His muscles unfolded and expanded beyond anything anyone had seen, including the incredible muscle growth pace on the monstrously huge elder men. Uncle Steve’s body grew, but not just in height, density, size, girth, width or any other physical dimension. It expanded beyond imagination; it simply developed and evolved right in front of the shocked audience. Meanwhile, the glorious elder titan just kissed Evan and Patrick, showing them how a real muscle daddy treats his boys. Then, he lifted my body along with his mighty cock and held the newcomer in just one arm, as he flexed the gigantic free arm. “Welcome aboard, boys. You must learn three things. #1 I need to grow even bigger, so you little asses will have to work hard to accomplish that. #2 Johnny is your older and bigger brother, and you will do everything he says, whether you want it or now, because my favorite boy is my most special trigger and #3 well, you are gonna find out that your former little SMM’s will soon serve me too.” I moaned deep as Uncle Steve fucked my ass with a glorious roar, swiftly remodeling my own body as I served him with utmost dedication. At each single second, I felt like one with his glorious cock, so majestically huge inside me, so painfully present inside my butt, fucking it harder and manlier. When Uncle Steve came inside me, it felt like a warm flood of love that took over myself. His muscles expanded even faster around me as he filled my relatively tiny body with his fatherly juice, I could just experience my very being changed, reshaped to please my loving father. The flooding took over my soul and at some moment; I felt the emptiness of the absence of Uncle Steve’s cock. It was then I opened my eyes and gasped to the sight of my monumental Uncle flexing his mountainous biceps, having one boy sat at the top of each peak. I was speechless to notice how tiny and weak those muscular lads seemed when compared to the sight of my mega-muscle daddy’s standards. His biceps were so gloriously immense they comfortably sat at the top of the peaks, as they rose higher and harder. Their tiny cocks shooting volleys of cum at the expanding frame of our master. Reacting out of pure worshipping instinct, I jumped out of the table and climbed my expanding master’s muscles, grabbing his impossibly thick neck, using the monstrous knots of his 16 abdominal wall as a ladder. I realized my own muscular arms were longer and much bigger as well, still nothing compared to the hard monstrosity that I tried to embrace. Kissing Uncle Steve felt deliciously different time, especially because of the tremendous size difference between us. I never realized it would become such a ecstatic feeling! “I know, little one. I feel the same.” The glorious muscle god said as he continued to flex his biceps harder and huger, making the new trigger to feed even more muscle growth cum on top of his expanding frame. I smiled, looking around to see all the clients were either making out or simply passed out with huge hard cocks trapped inside their pants. “Fuck…you were too much for them, sire.” “Nothing new about that…” Uncle Steve chuckled as he stood up. Evan and Patrick already passed out, so the silver haired Titan gently nursed them in one massive arm, the same in which he carefully protected me. “Shit…you’re…” “12 feet tall, 9 and one half feet wide, I currently weigh 18,258 pounds of monstrously massive muscle with a 37 inches long cock. I could tell you my exact measurements, but you will have the pleasure to find wouldn’t you?” I love that playful manly tone on my daddy. “You’re twice taller than when you entered here, over 10 times heavier too! And you’re not done growing…” I whispered, kissing the cheeks of my sleeping trigger brothers. “I barely started, son. Now, we need to get back home. I can feel Larry Durham and Junior are on their way to our home. We need them. I think Durham will become a formidable trigger!” “Oh, yeah, Junior has great potential.” I casually commented as he managed to put down the frontal wall of the dinner before leaving the place. “Heh, they both have!” Uncle Steve said mischievously. “But…what do you mean sir?” I asked all of a sudden. “If a young trigger has all this power, what kind of growth do you think a SMM will unleash on me?” I gulped “A-are you sure it is possible to make a trigger out of a SMM?” “Well, I just made trigger grow to get the size of SMM, Johnny.” Uncle Steve said as he placed me at the ground and I could see my body for the first time. I was the exact size of Uncle Steve before he transformed into an even bigger SMM! I could not believe my eyes, because I not only looked exactly like his much younger clone, I actually moved and behaved precisely as a powerful young man of such impossible size would. “Shit…Uncle Steve, I’m you! I mean…” “I know exactly what you mean, son. You are right. I made you look not only exactly, as I would have looked if I were that size at your age; I rebuilt your every single cell to be my perfect son, just on the outside though. You are already my prefect lover on the inside, and that’s precisely the reason you can grow me.” He said with such proud that I felt the big tears rolling from those eyes. “So…if you changed a trigger into SMM’s standards…” “We will do the same to the Durham duo. You will release Junior, I will break Senior’s will, and they will both become my triggers.” He smiled with unbreakable confidence. “Shit, sire…this will make you sooooo much bigger!” “Yeah it will be a nice start. But I want even more!” Uncle Steve said with his powerful tone and I just nodded. He was right, he deserved so much more. I would do everything to make him bigger! End of PART VII

A picked on nerd is gifted a special formula that he uses to possess the jock who bullied him. This is the first of a Jockstrap Power mini series I've been working on. Shoutout to writer alwaysmyway, inspired by his stories. Little Ricky had the same routine every day. He preferred routine, it gave him an understanding of order out of the chaos that normally ruled his life. By establishing this he was able to at least navigate his life with a certain level of expectation each and every day, even if the consequences of each day were harsh on him. He created routine out of necessity, out of a need to adapt to this chaos, this punishment that to him seemed to create a life and a role of one who made everyone else's lives better. And often at the sacrifice of Ricky himself. By the time his senior year of high school rolled around, Ricky thought he had his routine settled, mapped out to give him the most comfortable, least confrontational part of his day. Ever since his freshman year, he suffered the taunting and sometimes abuse from students who took easy advantage of his small frame, poor vision, and lack of social experience. Little Ricky, after all, was called such for obvious reasons, and his late physical development into adulthood and continued stunted development often kept him at the bottom of the social totem pole. But Ricky was smart and he was able to keep a low profile. As long as he stuck to his routine, he calculated, he could stick to around a 10% bully rate, and would often only have run ins with the bullies once every 2 weeks. This routine required careful planning over the years. The athletes were the guys who picked on him, and the usually picked on him when their sports weren't in season. He was careful to avoid the baseball fields during the winter, the swim lockers during the spring, and the football players during the fall and the spring. The footballers, full of testosterone and masculine domineering, were often the worst to Ricky. But they were also the guys Ricky admired the most. Senior year made life a little easier on him because he finally only had his own class to contend with, the older men having graduated. But as part of Ricky's routine he sometimes allowed himself an opportunity or two, on occasion, to run into the football jocks. They exhibited a level of masculinity that Ricky admired, that Ricky wished he had, and to just be around them, to smell their dominating presence, fulfilled a deep thought that Ricky harbored well within his mind, one he had to try hard not to show people: That he enjoyed being near them, that he enjoyed having them grab him and throw him around. He didn't like the pain of the abuse, of the underwear grabs, of the foot trips, but he liked that they held him, that the would get close to him, even if it was for an abusive purpose. Of course, they never hurt him seriously, it was all in good fun for them, but Ricky teased them just enough to feel their proximity. And it was just enough for the enjoyment to outlast any pain. Ricky still wasn't sure if he loved them or not, or if this lust was anything more than just a desire to be them. But he didn't care, he took advantage of it when he felt the time was right. Even though the varsity football team was underway with their fall season, Ricky knew the right time he could get in their way. It was a Monday, and the last bell rang for the day, Ricky took his usual post at his locker and lingered there an extra 3 minutes, just long enough for Josh, Tyler and Jon to make their turn from their lockers and find him fumbling around with his books. As expected, the three football jocks turned and saw their prey at his locker. Ricky preferred Tyler, the star quarterback, who's hairy arms and bulked physique exuded not just an athlete of power and endurance, but a leader and a motivator, one who was able to truly lead a group of men to victory both on and off the team. Thankfully Tyler, unlike his friends, was a relatively tame guy. He forced his jock bullying onto Ricky not because of his need to be mean, but a need to exert consistent dominance on other people. Just a confidence builder, Ricky reasoned. Josh was not so tame, though. The guy was a 6'2”, 220 lb mound of aggression and power. His short hair had to be kept that way because it grew so fast and like Jon, his body was completely untamed. His hair was dark and his skin tanned. He was just interesting enough looking to hold someones attention, and built and mean enough to quickly scare them off. Josh grabbed Ricky and threw him against the lockers. “What's up, ltitle Ricky?” Tyler said, walking over to him with a smile. “Sorry we can't spend more time together today, gotta hit up practice, we're doing a full-on scrimage with the JV team today, but you wouldn't know anything that wouldya?” Ricky looked deep in Josh's brown eyes, his irises wide as they were fixed on his little prey. “No I wouldn't,” Ricky said, blankly, back at his bully. “Drop him, Josh,” Tyler ordered, and his friend let him go. “I'm taking his books though,” Josh added, “See what it's like to fail a test for once...” Ricky stuck his foot out, causing the dumb oaf to trip over. “Hey little fucker!” Josh shouted, and he and Jon grabbed him again, lifting him by his skinny shoulders, Jon near his face. Ricky got a whiff of the jocks' masculine smell, and smiled a little as they dropped him again, moving on and forgetting about the little punching bag behind them. Ricky grabbed his backpack and moved onto the last part of his routine before heading back home. Making sure no one was around, he walked into the custodian office and carefully closed the door behind him. The custodian, Mr. Potter, had to be at least 70, probably closer to 80, and he walked around the school in a seemingly senile, robotic way. Though he seemed to always keep everything clean. He was rarely in his office after school hours, and for the last year, ever since Ricky added this stop to his routine, he never ran into Potter. Ricky sneaked past Potter's desk, past the mops and brooms and through the aisles stuffed with toilet paper and paper towels. Ricky ripped off a few squares for himself. He pushed aside some boxes and dropped his backpack by them, squeezing through a small crevice and into a little closet that seemed to be completely forgotten about at the school. It smelled a little damp, but there was a good reason for that. Ricky made it there just in time as he pushed two more boxes aside, revealing a small but fortunate hole that peered right into the men's locker room of the football team. Across the small aisle from the wall where Ricky peered was his favorite player's lockers, particularly Tyler's who was right in front of him. “I can't wait to suit up and get into scrimmage,” Jon said, leading the three into their row of lockers, “gotta get some of this exertion out!! We're gonna fuckin dominate the sophomores today.” The three guys lined up to their lockers and opened them, casually talking about their practice, girls, lifting weights, being athletic, homework, and other usual topics of the jock life. Whatever their topics were Ricky didn't care. He just watched. Jon was the first to pull his shirt, shoes and pants off. Ricky found of the three, Jon the three he was the one who enjoyed being in the buff the longest. He always walked buck naked both before and after practice to pee in the urinals. He walked everywhere in the room naked and was proud to show himself off. Tyler and Josh weren't ashamed of their bodies either, and they quickly followed his lead in getting undressed. Of the three Ricky enjoyed Tyler the most, but Jon wasn't a sight for poor eyes either. Jon dropped his shorts and stretched his body, examining his ass and flexing his quads before throwing his clothes into his locker. “Looking forward to lifting tomorrow, too,” he said, continuing to check himself out, “I can really notice growth in my quads and pecs ever since I upped the reps on the bench.” Jon shut his locker as Tyler and Josh dropped their own shorts and got nude. Ricky stared at the three of them in their complete nude comfort as they talked about masculine topics and showed the image of true sportsmen. Ricky wished he could be them, wished he could be like them. Josh and Tyler started fumbling for their uniforms as Jon passed them to take his ritual naked walk to the urinals. Tyler turned to the side and Ricky noticed his hard, locked in ass. The cheeks were rock solid cylinders pulled with well-defined muscles connecting his bulked back with his expanded quads. His brown hair spread ever so thinly over his lower back before thickening over his butt and down his legs. Tyler turned back to his locker and Ricky saw his long ass crack proportional to the tall body that stood at the locker. Tyler grabbed his jockstrap, a well-used white strap that had a thick sock covering for a large package. Josh continued chatting with Tyler as Jon came back to re-open his locker. Jon's body, while a little shorter and less hairy, was even more defined muscularly, with his pale skin showing nearly every contour, every thick twine of sinew over his body. Ricky figured his shorter stature motivated him not only to be bulky, but to show it off every chance he got, almost to make up for his height. Tyler turned right toward Ricky as he unfurled his strap. His package, whether before or after practice, was huge. His balls hung low and his cock was always plump and long, covered warmly by his thick pubic hair. The man held a level of masculinity and assurance that Ricky only wished he could understand. He stared as Tyler pulled the jockstrap up his legs, resting the garment neatly over his package. He turned back around to grab his uniform, ass still showing through the exposed chaps. As the guys put on their white football pants, sliding their pads into the gear, Ricky could continue to make out the jockstraps showing clearly underneath the pants. Even when clothed the guys wore their masculine monikers so as to remind everyone of their identity. The jocks put on the rest of their uniform and ran out through the locker room with their team, cleats snapping against the tile floor and the asphalt outside. Ricky sighed. He wished he could be like them. He looked around the custodian office to find it still empty. Leaving his backpack in the little compartment, Ricky squeezed through the crevice and worked his way around the athletic corridor, exiting through the custodian doorway and down the hall into the locker room titled, Varsity Football MEN Walking carefully to make sure no one else was around, he heared the varsity coaches yelling during the men's warm up. Confident he was truly alone, he spun Tyler's locker combo built into his door, having memorized the numbers from his last year of peeping through the secret room. He opened the door and examined Tyler's belongings. His backpack, street clothes, and old, unwashed uniform garments from last week's practice. The assistant manager hadn't been through to wash their old clothes. Ricky pulled out a pair of sliding shorts used during the men's indoor conditioning. It reeked of sweat, of balls, of masculine endurance. Ricky took a quick whiff, gagging and smiling at the same time. The thought of having that kind of smell at all infatuated Ricky. He wanted it. Deciding to let his inner most fantasy out, if only for a brief minute, Ricky quickly kicked off his shoes and pulled off his button down and t-shirt before examining the under armour shorts again. It still felt a little sweaty from its use last week. The temptation was too much, Ricky slid down his white briefs allowing his body to stand freely in the locker room. He closed his eyes and imagined being there with the jocks, being one of them, being just like Tyler, and slides on the shorts. They're tight. They fit snug, and the cold sweat from Tyler slowly warmed his body as he feels his own balls grow from the warmth and comfort. He checks out his skinny body and sees his tiny package accentuated by the athletic briefs. “Fuck, if only I was a little bigger...” he told himself, moving his hands across his body. “If even just for a moment...” Ricky reached down to the shorts and felt his small package under the clothing. He frowns. “If only...” he sighs. The guy's testosterone levels, normally low, started increasing under the fun he was having living the fantasy. He had only risked actually sneaking into Tyler's locker once before, and now he was wearing his shorts. He was completely out of his element in more ways than one, but the risk and the fantasy were starting to turn him on. Ricky could feel his dick rustling inside the shorts and a smile grew on his face. He started pacing back and forth in the corridor pretending to be Ricky, ass slapping friends and receiving high fives. Soon his erection was full even though it was barely noticeable in the shorts. But he didn't care. Ricky pushed his right hand under the shorts as he continued walking around, living the fantasy of being Tyler. Grabbing his rod, he started pumping, closing his eyes and leaning against the lockers for leverage. With every pump he dreamed of being Tyler, dreamed of having his body, of exuding and executing the masculine brilliance held within the man. Faster and faster Ricky continued pumping, Finally his dickhead poked out of the shorts, the pre-cum pushing into the cloth, “oh yes...” Ricky whispered. He pushed the shorts down to his knees and sat his ass against the locker, tilted his head back and opened mouth in a brief moment of ecstasy.... “What the hell?!” Ricky heard, his eyes snapped open, snapped back to reality. Even though he was only a few short pumps of cumming, the voice, an older voice, beckoned him back to the harsh realities of life. Ricky's mouth dropped. “Oh shit I've been caught!” he thought to himself, “how do I get out of this?!” he looked left and right and saw a brief glimpse of an old man with a mop off to the left. Mr. Potter. For two years the old man had never caught Rick in his own office but there he was, mop and bucket in hand, doing a mundane and standard task, walking into Rick's life. He didn't have time to think, he couldn't' make eye contact again, maybe if he held his face Potter wouldn't be able to identify him. He grabbed his clothes, picked up his shoes and ran. Where to he didn't know, but he had to get out of there. Who cares if Tyler's shorts were missing, Ricky ran. He exited the locker room and into an empty hallway, he had to get out of the school. His backpack! Ricky sprinted back into the custodian's closet, sure he wouldn't be there now, and into the office, He threw himself into the hidden room and quickly stripped, boner long died down now, Ricky grabbed his shorts, jeans and shirts and quickly dressed, looking through the hole to the locker room. No sign of Mr. Potter. He grabbed his backpack and sneakily exited the secret room, walking back across the office. “I know what you were doing,” the voice came again. This time much more softer, more controlled, less surprised. “You really needn't be ashamed of it.” Ricky slowly turned his head to see Mr. Potter looking over some papers on his desk, no eyes on Rick at all, but talking directly to him with a poise that seemed to be more than just talk. One of seriousness and understanding. The old man continued, “I've seen you bullied by those kids ever since you were a sophomore. I've seen you put up with it day in and day out. I've seen you handle yourself so well you don't even shed a tear when in pain or humiliation.” Another pause, and then: “You want to be them don't you.” Ricky stared but didn't answer. Didn't know how to answer. How do you talk to someone who already knows everything about you? On the one hand Ricky was almost relieved to know that someone harbored his secrets but wasn't disgusted by them. Potter continued. “But what happened today, that took my impression of you to a whole new level. If you want to be them, you're going to need help. You're going to need something I haven't shared with anyone in over 50 years. But my days are numbered now, I won't be around too much longer. Here, I have something to show you...” Ricky was now completely perplexed as the old man took out a key and unlocked a desk drawer, pulling out a small but heavy-looking tin lunchbox. “When I was your age, maybe younger, an old man gave me this case. It changed my life. For the better at first, but I was foolish and abused it. I hadn't even opened it since I was younger than you.” Potter's hands grace the old tin box, He pushes some dust off to the side, staring at the box, not looking up once, “there's instructions inside. I'll let you decide how you want to use it. I hope you'll be wiser than I.” Potter pushes the box to the side and steps away from his desk, still not looking at Ricky. “Maybe you'll be wiser than I...” he repeats, walking through the back door, leaving it open behind him. Ricky turns his attention back to the tin box. He walks to it and examines the cover. It's of a clown made out of colorful building blocks, a big smile with big eyes staring back at Ricky. “Maybe he takes me for a fool. I sure was acting like one...” Ricky says as he carefully sets the box in his backpack, on top of Tyler's running shorts. “Hmm, maybe I'll try returning them tomorrow,” and Ricky heads home at a slower pace, changing his daily habit for the first time in a year, not worried about breaking his schedule. – Ricky lived with his grandmother in the same home she owned since the 1960s. It was a drab, old, one story house, beige bricks and dead grass silhouetted by the setting sun. Ricky took his key and unlocked the door, climbing inside and shutting it behind him. “Grandma, I'm home,” he shouted. No response. Heading through the living room Ricky walked past his grandmother's bedroom and carefully opened the door. She was soundly sleeping as she usually was at this time. When his grandmother was awake, she had a good energy and a slow but sharp mind, but with her onset Alzheimer's he knew it wouldn't be long before she would start forgetting even him. Ricky sat at his desk in his small bedroom and looked at a picture of his family. Before his parents split, they seemed happy enough, at least on the surface. But Ricky often heard them fight bitterly every night, when they suspected he was asleep. After his father went to prison for embezzling money, his mom ran off with another guy, who was probably a criminal himself, and left Ricky when he was only 10 to live with her mom. Ricky didn't mind it. Ricky quickly turned his attention to the tin box in his backpack and he sat it on his desk, watching the smiling clown look up him, encouraging him to open it. He pulled the two tabs and opened it and inside he saw three, rusty little compartments with little tin doors over them. They were labeled: “Possess, Procreate, Power.” Simple, if mysterious words, he opened the cover on the left, the one labeled “Possess” and read the small description etched into the tin box. “Possess. This is the required potion. Procreate and Power will only work if Possess is already in use. Apply this to an article of clothing near the genitals of the human you wish you possess. Wear the garment. Become the garment. Host human must wear garment following your merging. You will control your new host. Heed this: you will become your new host. You will not be able to reclaim your former body.” “Become the garment?” Ricky asks himself. “Not be able to reclaim...” he read it over again to make sure he understood. He looked down at the container. Inside were what appeared to be some dried herbs, maybe a handful or so. It smelled strange, pungent, like the sweat of an athlete. “Hmm...” Ricky asked himself. “So if I apply this and wear Jon or Tyler's clothing, maybe I could...become them?” As the fantasy started swirling around in his head a small, mystified smile grew on his face. -- Ricky rushed through classes more carelessly than he ever had before. For the first time in his high school career he had a real goal to attempt. A bizarre and weird one, one that could potentially humiliate him for life, or cause him to be expelled, but he had to try it, he had to take a risk and make an attempt to become what he always wanted to be. When the last bell rang for the end of the day, Ricky quickly went to his locker, unpacked all of his books, and took his backpack which carefully held Tyler's sliding shorts and Ricky's newfound potions. He slipped past the football players quickly just as they were leaving their own classes, sneaked through the Janitor's closet, thankfully with Potter not there, and slipped into the Men's Football Locker room, with over 10 minutes before the first jocks would arrive for practice. Ricky spun the locker combo and opened Jon's locker, carefully resetting his sliding shorts. The guys were going to be suiting up again for scrimmage and both Tyler and Jon would be wearing their jockstraps again. He looked at the two lockers, hesitating briefly on who's shorts to try his little experiment. Having already had Tyler's door open, he opted to go for his jockstrap. Ricky left Tyler's door open and opened an unoccupied locker a few steps away. Figuring none of the jocks would check there, he unloaded his backpack and set it carefully in the locker, carefully hiding it from any light so as not to arouse suspicion. Ricky quickly threw off his shirt and kicked off his shoes and socks, stripping down to his white briefs. He examined his small, weak body again. Taking a deep breath, he wished to himself, and perhaps to Potter's potions too, that he wouldn't have to live a life as a measly little guy anymore. He slipped off his briefs and got completely naked, the last time, he hoped, it would be naked with this body, and stuffed his clothing into his backpack. He pulled out the potion bag and examined the herbs inside. Walking back over to Tyler's locker, Ricky pulled out a few herbs and sprinkled them onto the jockstrap, evenly covering the inside of the front pouch. They sit there for a moment, and quickly liquify, settling into the strap, diluting a light green cover onto the entire cloth and spreading into the waist strap above, before jock returns to its normal, sweat-stained color. “Wow, it might really work,” Ricky says. He carefully places the herb bag back in its case, in his backpack, and shuts the neighboring locker. He walks back over Tyler's, knowing there's not much time left, and quickly slips on his jock, letting the cloth slide up his legs before comfortably, if somewhat largely, fit over his small package and his waist, slapping the band onto his body. He looks down to himself. “What happens now?” He asks himself, but it didn't take long for him to notice. His dick pushes against the cloth and quickly disappears, becoming one with the cloth, almost as if it's taking him in, sucking his body into the cloth. “Oh shit!” Ricky whispers to himself, “I'm going into the cloth!” He can feel a tingling sensation run through his waist, around to his butt and down his legs, up through his torso. It's not painful, just numbing, numbing because his flesh disappearing into the cloth. He can feel his ass pull backwards, quickly losing all of its mass, his legs start shrinking as he feels his body pulled like a black hole into the cloth which quickly is taking in whatever it can. Ricky starts breathing quickly but notices that he's having more and more trouble, his lungs are falling into nothing. Ricky also starts shrinking down from his short 5'7” to a measly 5', then down into the 4s. He reaches his measly arms up into the locker and finds he can now fit his tiny body inside, quickly becoming smaller and smaller into nothing. “I don't have much time' He tells himself as he pulls his body, now less than 40 pounds, into the locker, using the last bit of strength that he had, he shuts the locker behind him, leaving him to melt in the darkness of the strap. After what seemed like only a few seconds, Ricky felt like he couldn't move at all, couldn't see, couldn't really feel. But he knew where he was and he knew where he had settled. It was the strangest feeling he had ever had. He was nothing and yet he existed. Soon he started to hear noises. “The jocks are coming!” he told himself. He couldn’t make out what people were saying but he knew the men were out there, talking, joking to each other. Soon light bled into the locker and an already shirtless Tyler bared himself into his locker. The jock was already getting naked, he must have been running late. He could make out, through the light, already naked Jocks behind him. Jon's butt was visible as he walked across with his own jockstrap in hand, getting dressed for practice. “But like I was saying, how are we going to be able to win the regionals with Mac off the team this year? His arm has the throwing power of a greek warrior,” Tyler said, turned toward his naked friend. “You gotta make up for it, Tyler, condition yourself, man,” Jon answered, “extra iron to pump between this week and next.” Ricky couldn't see him, but Josh chimed in next, “I'm just excited for the football party tonight, juniors hosting it, we just show up and raise some hell, gonna be great,” he said before cutting a loud fart. Tyler turned to him with a smirk on his face. “What?!” Josh said, laughing, “I'm a Man!” Ricky kept his attention on Tyler as he continued undressing. First his shorts and shoes went into the locker, followed by his socks. Finally his boxers flung into the small cabinet, filling the locker with his signature, masculine smell. Tyler unassumingly lifted the jockstrap, still listening to his friends' banter. Ricky could see him, feel him unfurling it. “Come on you stupid jock, put me on...” he kept thinking to himself as he felt himself slowly lowered. “No time for a pee today, gotta hurry,” Tyler said, lifting his naked left, then right leg into the strap. As he pulled upward, Ricky could start to feel the athlete around him, start to feel the control he would soon have over the jock. Tyler's hairy legs guiding Ricky up his otherwise smooth and hard body toward his masculine package. Tyler didn't realize he was sealing his own fate, the mere thought of possession exciting Ricky. Ricky felt immediately surrounded by the jock's cock and balls, pushed snugly against and completely around him. As the rear of the strap smacked against Tyler's ass, Ricky could feel the most amazing thing happen: he was literally being pulled into Tyler. In a matter of seconds Ricky's whole being began getting pulled into the athlete, up through his dick, and into his body. Tyler, meanwhile took a step back, shocked by the loss of feeling in his dick, then in his hips. “What the fuck?” Tyler told himself as he blinked. He could no longer move his waist. He felt his hands against his abs, still had feeling, before moving down to his ass where it was completely numb. “What's wrong with me?” Tyler frantically said, panicking. The loss of feeling spread down to his quads and soon up to his abs. Like a napkin getting stained Tyler was slowly losing his feeling throughout his body. “SHIT!” he shouted, his friends turning to him, “something's...happ...ening...” his breathing increased, losing feeling in his chest Tyler took a step back and realized he didn't control his step, his arm swung and he realized he didn't swing it! “Uhh, Tyler, are you ok?” Jon said, approaching him. “Do you need me to call the nurse?” “No!” Tyler answered involuntarily, “just need a second...” Tyler was losing vision, getting dizzy, he wasn't the one talking, he wasn't the one moving! “What's happening to me? WHAT'S HAPPENING?!” he said in a panic, his body seemed to calm down, seemed to be in control despite his own panicking. But something started to make sense, a voice. A voice laughing in surprising pleasure as it got louder and louder in Tyler's head. “Holy shit it's working!” it said. “What?! Who is this? What's happening to me?” Tyler asked. But the voice was controlled, simple, it knew exactly what was happening: “Oh, hello, Tyler...and goodbye.” Everything turned to darkness. Ricky turned his head before looking down. A new body. An athletic body. A masculine body. He smiled before moving his hands up to his face. His face was new, it was Tyler's. The potion worked! “I am fuckin Tyler!” he shouted, not realizing the entire team turned to him. Tyler coughed and turned back toward his team, “uhh, sorry guys, got dizzy there for a sec.” The guys shrugged and went back to changing, but internally Ricky smiled. He took the body. It was his! As Tyler, he discreetly flexed his abs and quads, seeing his sinew shake with the strength of Tyler's body. Stretching himself he felt around in Tyler's thoughts and realized he had his entire mind to explore. He truly became the master of the athlete. He knew Tyler's entire history, his personality, easily inheriting his entire personality. “Fuck this is gonna be fun...” Tyler, the new Tyler, told himself. Tyler walked toward the urinals and pulled his jockstrap down, admiring his obnoxiously large cock. He peed easily, no shyness as a jock. Reaching around to his ass, Tyler felt the muscular work this jock had put into his body, and lavishly enjoyed the new body he attained. Tyler walked back to his locker and quickly grabbed his shorts and pads. As he suited up the remaining football uniform, he looked back to his team, “don't worry about regionals, I got it,” and the team smiled back at him. “That's my man!” Josh shouted “let's fuckin win this!” Tyler got a slap on his ass as he smiled back at the team. “I think I'm going to enjoy this new life.” Running through the workouts and drills of practice, everything about Tyler's life felt so new, so unfamiliar, and yet Tyler was able to perform it with ease that he never knew before. The instincts in his new body to run, to watch, to react, to shout to teammates, to perform like an athlete. It wasn't easy, but for the first time in his life Tyler felt like he fully understood it. Tyler threw the ball hard out toward Mike, another senior and wide receiver, and aimed it carefully above him, making sure his energy would hit the receiver in just the right location. The ball perfectly spun from his hands before Evan tackled him from the right, Tyler landing on the soft grass with his defensive friend on top of him. “Nice one, Tyler, man you're doing well today!” Evan extended his hand and Tyler lifted himself up, feeling a sharp slap on his ass from his buddy. “Thanks Evan,” Tyler said, searching his head for the history of his buddy, “not too shabby yourself, thanks for not knocking my head out.” “More things in life than just the game, my man,” he said, giving him another slap before reforming the line of scrimmage. Tyler next decided to run the ball, quickly pushing through the line and squeezing around the players, taking his feet off toward the goal line. Approaching the line, he saw Jon signaling to him to take the ball, and tossed it to him before getting tackled himself. Jon ran to the line and threw the ball onto the ground. “Fuck Yeah!!” he shouted with masculine pride. We're gonna fuckin dominate next week!” The guys hollered for their friends, Tyler smiling with the new-found companionship he now had. He lifted his arms and cheered with them as they worked their way back to the locker room. “Shit yeah!” he shouted, enjoying the camaraderie. Tyler followed his buddies in removing his stinky clothing for practice. Charlie came rolling around with his cart to take the dirty clothes from practice. Though a student, Charlie was way more mature than most of the players and even got along with Ricky pretty well. But Tyler knew Jon wasn't going to be so nice to him today. Taking off the last of his clothing, Jon smiled to Tyler as he peeled his jockstrap down. “Yo Charlie!” Jon said, “Whatchu got over here? Nuthin that's what.” Charlie quietly kept pushing the cart as other men tossed in their pants, shirts and jockstraps, ignoring Jon but not defending Charlie either. “Hey turd, I'm talkin to you. You gonna take my jockstrap or not?” Jon stood there, his sweat-stained naked body still shorter than Charlie, but trying his best to exert whatever he could. Charlie looked up at Jon and carefully pulled the strap dangling off Jon's middle finger. But Jon wouldn't have it. “You don't have the right!” he shouted and tried tossing the strap onto Charlie's head. But Tyler wouldn't have it. “What it fucker!” Tyler shouted, grabbing the strap and flinging it into the cart. “What's wrong with you? This guy is on our Team!” Charlie looked over to Tyler with a small smile, before turning back to Jon. A sense of shame hit the senior. He looked down at his naked body. “Uhh, sorry, Charlie.” He said. “Just got the crazies from scrimmage, you know?” Charlie continued pushing the cart, not saying anything. Tyler quickly stepped out of his own jockstrap and tossed it into the cart. “Thanks Charlie,” Tyler said, surprised he was able to convince his friend so quickly to stop the bullying. Tyler grabbed his soap as Jon tapped him on the shoulder, “thanks man, I don't know what got over me there, but I feel better not being such a dick. I think.” Jon said with reason. “It's cool, man, you just gotta relieve the stress I think,” Tyler answered. Tyler walked back over to Ricky's locker and looked in to see if his things were still there. He could see the tin box peering through the slots in the locker and decided to look more closely at it. “What are you doing, Tyler?” Josh asked, “shower don't stay hot forever!” “Yeah,” Tyler answered, attention not really on his friend. He cracked open the Procreate tab and before he even had time to examine it, Mike gave him an ass slap knocking his hands toward the tab, causing a much finer and more sandy powder to shoot out of the can. “Oh shit,” Tyler said, Mike not hearing him as he walked toward the shower. The powder quickly flung into the air and Tyler gave it a short sniff, not realizing just how much he had inhaled. It smelled like a dry desert and the powder burned his nose. Tyler started coughing but seemed to like the feeling as his eyes got focused and a new energy surged into him. He took another whiff. “Cool!” he said. Tyler shut the tin box, not caring to read whatever note was printed on the Procreate label, and re-locked the locker, strutting himself down toward the showers, a renewed energy flowing through him. The guys filed into the long, open gang shower and Tyler took his usual place in the middle shower head. His buddies filling in around him. Tyler had never felt more comfortable then where he was now, actually surrounded by his athletic friends and being a true part of the team. For a moment, Tyler nearly forgot about his former self, both the jock who used to have this body, and the man he was before. He nodded and shook off his history, “this is who I am now” he told himself. “I'll figure out some way to make Ricky disappear later.” Being around his naked buddies, Tyler did feel at home, but he was starting to feel a little too comfortable even for himself. The energy from the powder was going to his dick, or so he thought, and it was starting to wake up. One the one hand, Tyler was surprised to have gone this long in his new body without thinking of his sex tool, but now he was in the middle of the showers and his dick was growing. “My man is coming up!” he shouted, a jock-like instinct in him to show it off. The other guys started chuckling and giving Tyler shit for the accidental boner, or so they thought, but it didn't take long for them to notice it was more than a boner that was growing on Tyler. It seemed his whole body was growing. Tyler's breathing accelerated. He was getting hot. He stepped out of the shower head and stretched his body. “oh shit, guys!” he shouted, “god I feel like I'm growing. Holy shit it feels GOOOD! YEAH!” he shouted again. Tyler's balls started dropping like boulders as his dick went beyond horizontal, stretching out and gaining girth as his testicles grew low and heavy. Stretching his abs and waist he noticed it start to expand as well, creating new layers of muscular girth as it locked in his quads and sharpened his adonis belt. “Mmmm....” Tyler couldn't help but revel in it, it all felt too good. By this time most of the team had stopped paying attention to the water running over them and stared at the growing beast before them. Tyler's ass pushed a hard bubble outward as his pubic hair started to grow with more veracity over his legs and ass and up his abs, the water matting it down like a fur. His abs locked deep grooves as his pecs flattened and nipples widened, hair growing over them. His shoulders started bulking up and outward as his back muscles reached up and around them, building into his biceps and triceps and thickening his neck, chin and head. “Fuck yeah! MOOOREEEE!” He shouted, grabbing his dick without any conscious thought. Tyler started pumping, he couldn't help it. “Join me, team!” he shouted, taking a minute to open his eyes as his team stared hypnotically at him. “I said join me!” The team, in a trance, started tugging at their dicks one after the other, staring at the growing beast before them. “I'm here to spread this power,” Tyler cryptically said, “to procreate it...” The team started scooting closer to Tyler, watching him pump his dick as they attempted to follow. “Fuck yeah...” they said as their own orgasms started to build. Tyler could feel his dick building, his balls churning, he was nearly ready, his semen ready to spread out to his friends, “Ohhh SHIIITTT!” he shouts as his balls fling into him and one, after another, after another, huge shot of dark yellow semen shoots from his body and onto the floor and onto his teammates. The naked team was shocked at first, having been sprayed by their friend they were afraid, but it didn't take them long to gain confidence. Jon was the first to speak up, “holy fuck!” he shouted I'm groowwwingg! HAHAHA!” The team started cackling together as the sprayed spooge integrated into their bodies, increasing their own strength and power, their muscles growing over themselves, creating cut and sharp, masculine bodies with dicks of steel. As their asses bulked out their own balls started to drop, their boners got bigger, and their new power-laden dicks were ready for their own orgasms. Tyler took a minute to notice Charlie standing outside the shower room perplexed, afraid of the transformations happening before him. “Charlie, my man!” Tyler shouted. “Team! Share some with our manager!” Mike, being the nearest to the corridor, pulled Charlie in, getting him wet from the steam and flow of the shower water. “Come on, Charlie!” he shouted, “Join us!” Unaware of Mike's own strength, he accidentally pushed Charlie too hard, sliding him through the shower floor, wet and hot, into the middle of the transforming team. “Come on, Charlie! You won't need those clothes in a minute!” Tyler said as his dick regrew to change his friend. The rest of the team was almost ready and had their own dicks aiming down at Charlie. “Fuck yes I can feel it!” Jon said. “Charlie! Hmm...mmmm...join....us!” More showers of semen fell onto the manager, who immediately went from perplexed fear to happy acceptance. “Oh god, guys!” he shouted, “I'm fucking grrrroooowwwwwing!” he restood, ripping his shirt in half as his own muscles started gaining strength, his abs deepening as he felt, for the first time, muscles of true athletes. Charlie ripped his jeans and yanked down his boxer briefs as the last of the semen integrated into him. “YEESSS!!” he shouted. Cackles filled the shower room corridor.

In chapter three, I take a closer look at one of the former minor characters. As usual, I hope that you will tolerate my unintentional linguistic errors. Chapter One is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/ Chapter Two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6609-project-defender-–-chapter-two/ DISCLAIMER This story do contain an element of internalised homophobia, at least in the beginning. If you are offended by this, please read no further. Project Defender - Chapter 3 He always wanted to be huge. But he wasn’t. Kowalski had grown up in a small municipality just outside Warsaw. He had been bullied in primary school, but when he entered secondary school he joined a gym, and although his results were modest, his newfound muscles kept the bullies away. His parents – especially his mother – were devout Catholics, and he joined them, when they attended Mass on Sundays. He felt like having two minds when it came to physical exercise. On the one hand, it felt amazing in the end of each training session, when his body released all those relaxing substances, and blood pumped into all his newly trained muscles, causing him to feel hard in a very good way. On the other hand, he felt uncomfortable that he often became horny after workout. He had tried to mention it to his vicar during confession once, but Father Wójcik had reacted in horror: ’You are having dirty thoughts, young man. Do you hear: Dirty! The only normal thing to feel aroused by is your future wife. I hope you will find a suitable girl sometime during Technikum. Now avoid to think dirty thoughts again. I absolve you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’ He hadn’t dared to mention the topic again. During his studies at Technikum, he had to go by bus to Warsaw each day, and he joined a bigger and more well-equipped gym inside Warsaw. He must have been eighteen when he found out that one of the adult guys at the gym was a British Jesuit, teaching in the capacity of Guest Professor in astrophysics at the university for a time. Father O’Kelly seemed to enjoy exercise himself, although he mainly used the treadmill and the step-up-machine, so Kowalski dared to take up his embarrassing worries. O’Kelly laughed somewhat, and had a much more relaxed view on Kowalski’s perceived problem: ’Listen, son. Now and then in the history of the Church, a few people have – mistakenly – believed that the human body is something bad. It isn’t. Evil is only able to harm things. Evil is not able to create and nurture life. Some saints were wrong about some issues, and a few of them were anorectics or neurotics. We do good if we try to do the same sort of good deeds those saints achieved, but we ought not to follow their mistaken personal opinions or quirks. The human body is an amazing thing: Our brain and our hands cooperate in a way that made engineering and art possible. The human body functions the way God intended – perhaps not perfectly, since we have a free will, but the basic processes are there, because it is for the best. St. Paul writes that the human body is a temple for the Holy Spirit. That isn’t something bad or evil, is it? Men like you try to make their temple as fitting and embellished as possible, and there is nothing wrong with that, at least if you don’t become obsessive about it, and forget the needs of persons around you. Excessive vanity would make the life complicated for you, but in the right amount it is just confidence, and confidence is good to have. Human sexuality is a strong feeling, that sometimes blur peoples judgment. Those consequences of a blurred judgment are sometimes evil, but not sexuality itself. God created it. I would advice you to exercise more, not less, since exercise helps to diminish exaggerated arousal, but I would also advice you to thank God for your ability to feel good. In the future you will probably find a cute girl. If sex had been something intrinsically bad, matrimony wouldn’t have been regarded a sacrament, would it?’ After his discussion with Father O’Kelly, Kowalski felt much better. He continued to work out at the gym, and achieved a lean and very hard physique, but he wasn’t able to become big and burly the way professional bodybuilders looked. During Technikum, some of the girls had found the combination of his short stature, ripped physique and cream coloured downy hair irresistible, and he had snogged a number of young women, but nothing serious. Since his early childhood, his favourite saint was St. Michael the archangel. The church his mother attended had several smaller adjacent altars, and his favourite one was dedicated to St. Michael. A broad shouldered statue of St. Michael was there, his enormous wings outstretched protectively, and his big chest decked with chainmail, a sword in his muscular arm, trampling the devil underfoot. It was an icon of masculine heroism, and Kowalski wanted to be a hero. To protect people, and defend them. When he graduated from Technikum, he first applied to the fire brigade, but his application was rejected since he didn’t fulfill the regulated minimum height. He then applied to the Armed Forces of the Republic of Poland, and was accepted. He scored very high on endurance tests, and he managed to lift heavier backpacks than men his own size usually did. He was very good at diving. He was extremely good at parachute jumps, but one part of his test results differed significantly from the rest: He scored low when it came to the ability to lift really heavy equipment, and he felt frustrated over this. Now and then, he shyly asked himself if he possibly could be gay. The Church’s position on the issue was clear, and that made him uncomfortable: He liked attending Mass now and then, and he appreciated to slip into an almost empty cathedral in the middle of the afternoon, experiencing the soothing silence and stillness. The Army officially maintained a non-discriminatory policy when it came to sexual orientation, and had always did, but the personal opinions among some of the senior officers and some of the other squaddies was another thing. As far as he knew, no-one had suspected anything. He knew that he often became horny when he read magazines about bodybuilding or watched action films with muscular heroes, but he wasn’t sure if that was a desire for the men themselves, or if it was rather a lust for becoming just as huge and ripped as them, excelling in masculinity. Gays are not masculine, are they? When TV news reported about Gay Pride parades in Warsaw, he didn’t feel anything for the men who walked by on the television screen: Trannies trying to look like women. Soft and wimpy men with rainbow pennants, some of them with glitter on their faces. They looked happy. He wished them luck with their everyday lives, but he didn’t feel attracted to them in any way. They seemed uninteresting. He had nothing in common to them. So he couldn’t be gay, could he? He had nothing against gays, as long as they didn’t hit on him. The Army became like a second home for him. He liked being challenged to achieve feats beyond his former limits. A couple of years went by. Then the Space Attack occurred. His family was evacuated from the Warsaw area to the countryside. He was sent to the Pan-European Military Research Facility, since he had been deemed suitable for experimentation. He had felt excited when he became aware of the purpose of The Program. De Vries had been a pain in the ass, but most of the international guys had been pleasant enough to work with. Among the scientists he felt most comfortable with the Norwegian one they called ’Viking Guy’, who had been friendly and polite. Coach was so well-trained, that he made Kowalski feel small in comparison, and there was something with the tiny Englishman, Smith, that made Kowalski feel awkward. He didn’t know what. He missed Soares. They had met the first day at the Facility, in the gym, and found a common bond in how much they liked workout and their disappointment with being hardgainers. Soares had a good sense of humour. Under cheering sounds from the other squaddies, they had sometimes wrestled at the living quarters, pitting each other’s strengths against each other. They had shared stories about their home countries and their worries for their families. Soares was also Catholic, so Kowalski had given him his St. Michael pendant as a gift of brotherhood. Soares had a good heart and kind eyes the colour of hazel nuts. And now he was comatose, because of an experiment gone wrong. Kowalski had sat beside Soares sick bed at Infirmary every evening since the accident happened. He felt angry at the scientists, but he also felt a bad conscience for his anger, since Viking Guy had told him that they worked on a treatment. He couldn’t sleep. He clothed himself, and tied his boots. The Infirmary lay in darkness, with the exception of a single lamp at the desk. To his surprise, neither Johansson’s nor Soares’ bed were there. After the initial surprise, he found Fischer, the night working nurse, tied to a chair. ’The recruits! They wheeled the patients away to the Lab.’ As soon he had freed Fischer from the chair, Kowalski jogged to the Lab, walking silently in suspicions the last distance. He peeked carefully into the Lab. Jones was there: He was a funny one, with a good sense of humour, at least when Kowalski could manage to understand his dialect. And Varga! Varga had behaved as an elder brother to Kowalski and Soares. Why had they of all persons disobeyed orders? If they actually had disobeyed orders. Weren’t they programmed to behave as perfect soldiers now? And who was the tall and muscular uniformed man typing at a screen? No! It couldn’t be… Doctor Smith? It’s impossible! He was so tiny, bespectacled and plump yesterday. This is like magic. He’s even bigger than Varga. And Boffin! And Viking Guy! And… O saint Mary in heaven: Coach was humongous now! What were they doing? Kowalski noticed the movable sickbeds. Empty. And the Chambers were activated. It dawned to him that Soares and Johansson were inside the Chambers, so it seemed that they tried to cure them from their comatose states. Cautiously, he stepped inside the lab. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED][AND RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Cpl. Soares Weight: 56 kilo grammes Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Height: 168 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Chest: 91 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Waist: 70 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Arm: 34 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] Thighs: 56 centimetres Now:[iNCREASING] [AWAITING DATA] ’Brain activity detected and intensifying.’ ’Pulse, breathing and temperature stable.’ Soares had grown inside the chamber. Muscles bulged and protruded from him. He was far from the size of the men in the Lab, but it was obvious that he was still growing in the golden shimmer. ’Kowalski? What are you doing here?’ Viking Guy had noticed his presence. The other large men looked in his direction. He felt uncomfortable. ’I was worried for Soares. Why did you tie Fischer?’ ’Did you tie Fischer, Jones? Why?’ ’Ah dinna thought mooch abuht ed. Ah wanted ’im to be outovva way. The Program kicked in.’ ’But why in the world would Fischer want to hinder us from curing the patients? Although it is in the middle of the night? Which is – ahem – unconventional.’ A short and confused discussion took place, but the safety for the patients soon redirected the focus of all present to the Chambers and the persons therein. Fischer peeked inside the room, but, although some of the men probably noticed him with their enhanced military senses, they all focused on the patients. Since Fischer didn’t have any patients to guard any longer, he sat down on a stool. ’Good to have you here, Kowalski.’, Doctor Green said. ’I know that you have sat beside Soares’ bed several nights. He knows you well. You are friends. He would listen to you.’ ’Yes?’, Kowalski asked. ’There is no damage to his brain. Whatever may have damaged himself before is perfectly healed by Morphogenetic Fields by now. I suspect that a psychological factor would help him to awake, under the condition that he remain in the Field during awakening. Human contact. You were scheduled for The Procedure the day after tomorrow, I believe. Would it disappoint you very much, if we rescheduled your treatment till tonight, instead?’ ’You mean. To become like you? Now?’ ’I understand that it comes of a sudden, but I really think that Soares would benefit from you talking to him, while you both go through The Program together.’ It came so suddenly. Kowalski felt confused. ’He is very close to awakening, but something delays it, and I believe there is a human factor to this. Your voice and your presence would hopefully lead him back to consciousness, but since that would expose you to The Program, you need to go through it all, with nano-inhalation, nutrition-IV and everything.’ Although it was buzz cut, Kowalski felt the hair on the back of his skull raise. He felt a pleasant shiver at his back. A lump emerged in his throat, and his mouth became dry. He silently observed the absurdly titanic men in the Lab – even the scientists looked like imaginary super-soldiers by now. He watched the growing Soares and Johansson in the Chambers. He should join their ranks tonight already. Everything felt unreal, like it was one of his silly teenage fantasies coming true. Absentmindedly, he answered: ’Yes. Of course I accept a reschedule. I want to help Soares. And it is – ehrm – actually quite exciting.’ He blushed somewhat, and untied his boots. The T-shirt fell on the bench. The trousers as well. Socks. Pants. It still felt unreal when Green applied the IV and the neuro-helmet. ’May I have a glass of water before I enter?’ Varga handed over a large plastic mug filled with drinking water. Kowalski devoured it. Green tied the breathing mask over Kowalski’s face. ’There is a microphone in the mask. If you feel strange, you may tell us. Most of the guys who have went through this Process have felt very well. Thank you for helping us to awaken Soares, and good luck inside.’ [CONNECTING] [ACCESSING DATA] [AWAITING SPECIMEN] Cpl. Kowalski Weight: 57 kilo grammes Height: 169 centimetres Chest: 91 centimetres Waist: 69 centimetres Arm: [AWAITING DATA] Thighs: [AWAITING DATA] CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED BY 2 SPECIMEN][AND RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL] [CONCOMITANTLY TO] [PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL][MULTI-THREADING] When the inner sluice opened, his entire body was struck by a violent wave. It caused all his bodily consciousness to tingle and buzz, in a way that was impossible to describe. He stepped inside the chamber, and the feeling became more intense. For a while it shut out all his other impressions. He tumbled into an intense vision of golden flashes and flares, in which his physical body ceased to exist. In its place he consisted entirely by raw, primordial power. Buzzing. Crackling. Emitting bolts. Devouring bolts. A voice which was not his own was saying something inside his mind. He didn’t actually hear it, since it was in his mind. He couldn’t hear clearly: It was not audible. It was more like a thought – an implanted thought. The intensity of the implanted thought increased: Do you accept The Program? He was rather strong minded. He couldn’t be forced to accept. Do you accept The Program? But it was because of The Program he was here. This reminded him of something a drill officer had said during basic training: ’I will break you down, in order to rebuild you!’. This was something similar. Do you accept The Program? Far, far away, he was vaguely aware that his physical body was involuntarily mumbling and grunting random words, but he didn’t pay attention to it: He was deeply immersed in his inner experience of integration into The Program. Do you accept The Program? He would become like the unbelievably huge titans outside the chamber. He shivered unintentionally in delight. Do you accept the Program? And he was here to help Soares. But what would happen if he tried to refuse The Program? You will accept The Program Fear arose. His instincts told him, that, if he accepted, he would no longer be entirely the same. From a certain point, he would no longer be himself. The instincts of fear became stronger. You will accept The Program You will accept The Program Damn it! It was his duty to endure this process, in order to help mankind. It was his duty to become… Becoming Defender Yes. To defend his fellow men against the invasion, and to defend his brothers-in-arms in danger. Becoming Protector Yes. To protect the weak and innocent… You will accept The Program Yes. To become a part of the same Program as the other optimised lads. United. Together as the first generation space marines. United… in… the… same… Program. You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will accept The Program You will ac ’SIR! YES, SIR!’ CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED BY 2 SPECIMEN][AND RUNNING NEURO-REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] [CONCOMITANTLY TO] [PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL][MULTI-THREADING] A small part of him knew, that the experience he re-lived wasn’t his own, but borrowed from someone else, like the one just before, and the one just before, but it felt so real, and it felt so much a part of his own experience… It was like he had been through this for years, by now: Years of painstaking exercise to perfect his ability to… …triumph in close combat… …swiftly and effectively handle weapons of innumerable types… …make tactical decisions… …defuse explosives… …hack into computer technology… It went on and on. He re-lived the lives of countless experts in their fields, and all were implanted and coalesced in him. Becoming consummate individual unit His confidence exploded and went off the scale. Nothing would ever make him feel awkward or uncomfortable any longer. Neuro-Reprogramming Protocol aim achieved Neuro-Reprogramming Protocol accomplished Closing according to Program Running: Physical Reprogramming Protocol [undivided] … [both specimen] [according to same matrix] Enhancing He was awake. He was present in a cylinder with another man. O, yes! The Chamber. The Process. Soares. His friend Soares. It felt good to be close to Soares. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED BY 2 SPECIMEN][AND RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL][iNTENSIFYING] The fluid around him was crackling with power discharges, and it caused his entire body to tingle in an incredible way. The power was crackling around Soares too, and he had grown amazingly big and well-defined, still pulsating of growth. Now, the same power surged through Kowalski, making him grunt with uncontrollable pleasure. An ugly sound of bones breaking and reforging was transmitted through the fluid. Kowalski was dimly aware of pain, and for a while his consciousness drifted away into darkness. When he awoke, he felt different and elongated in a strange way. The power emissions buzzed: in the fluid, on the surface of his skin, and through the essence of his entire body. He concentrated, and managed to speak. ’Soares. Wake up. It’s me, Kowalski. Please, Soares.’ And Soares opened his eyes. ’Kowalski? Oh. It feels… Mmmm.’ ’You are awake!’ ’So they continued to… Mmmm. …physical phase anyhow? Oh, this is good… Uh!’ Soares shivered in delight. He contracted his arms and tensed his abs. His dick awoke. Soares shivered again, and closed his eyelids again. His grunts revealed that he hadn’t drifted back to unconsciousness. Kowalski was so relieved that Soares had awakened, that he let his dogged determination go. His awareness tumbled into the flashing, buzzing, bubbling experience of bodily change, of transformation. The irresistible power surge… The Field… The radiation… He felt himself pack on meat in an incredible speed. His back broadened, became more massive, and his shoulders too, filling out, full, round, meaty powerful globes of human flesh. There was nothing he could do to stop it, but why would he want to do that? He was programmed to do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. To enhance himself. To augment himself. And Soares. His legs felt like they were able to support incredible amounts, tree trunks widening, pillars of uncrushable steel, voluptuously huge calves. It was like pump, but intensified, and instead of just feeling like they grew, his muscles actually became larger, harder, more defined. His traps and pecs contracted in a deliriously delightful way, while they swelled up into uncrushable ridges and mounds, and he revelled in the feeling of his hyper-charged biceps and triceps, and of the vein covered steel cords, which once had been his forearms. His abs and iliac furrow burnt intensely while they became more and more well-defined, but the feeling gradually changed into the same buzzing and brimming feeling of power which filled the rest of his body. His firm gluteus had filled out into diamond hard orbs. [ACCESSING] [sPECIMEN DATA] Cpl. Kowalski Weight: 220 kilo grammes [AND INCREASING] Height: 215 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Chest: 228 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Waist: 114 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Arm: 100 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Thighs: 120 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Cpl. Soares Weight: 220 kilo grammes [AND INCREASING] Height: 215 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Chest: 228 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Waist: 114 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Arm: 100 centimetres [AND INCREASING] Thighs: 120 centimetres [AND INCREASING] [iNTENSIFYING] [according to same matrix] He didn’t become what he had ever dreamed of: He became something beyond the limits of his wildest imagination, and he diverted himself in the mindless roar of anabolic ecstasy. When he closed his eyes he heard the rushing sound of his pulse and of his blood stream transporting growth enhancing substances to every fibre of his pleasantly convulsing body. He grew in a way beyond what he could comprehend. He was a living battery, charged with the power current from a high voltage line. The power of vitality itself filled him limitlessly. Nuclear bombs exploded inside his body and inside his mind. The ineffable powerblaze stormed in every atom. He brimmed of unlimited and unconquerable might. Suddenly, he could feel Soares' hand on his left pec. It felt good. Soares’ hand had grown in size, but so had Kowalski’s pecs. Soares’ grip had increased, and a man of softer build would have been crushed by this, but Kowalski was no ordinary man. His pec resisted steel-hard the squeeze of Soares'. It felt good. Actually, it did feel amazing, since the empowering current of force, which made him grow, now streamed through him with redoubled intensity. It was like the power current streamed through him twice, and he could hear from Soares’ roar that the effect worked in both directions. He grabbed Soares’ incredible pulsating shoulders with both of his hands. His touch gave Soares a start, and for a couple of seconds Soares upper body went rigid. Then he relaxed – as far as the convulsing and pulsating state his muscles found themselves in could be called relaxed. Soares let his right hand move to Kowalski’s left bum, and the left hand soon followed. The hypertrophic power current now streamed through them again, again and again, in a heightened state of intensity. The Chamber bubbled of liquid. Thunderbolts of morphogenetic power struck their inner cores. The breathing masks hindered them from kissing each other, but both opened their eyes. Staring deeply into each others eyes, Kowalski’s ice blue eyes into Soares’ hazelnut brown ones, they could see how the heightened energy state began to affect their tissue. Golden power sparks arose in Soares’ eyes, and Kowalski could feel a strange, but pleasant, buzz arise in his own eyes. Then their eyes became interconnected to each other by two sparkling power currents of golden fire. Something happened at their groins, and the pulsating steel rods between their legs suddenly became interconnected by a similar crackling power current. Their muscular fibres became more and more unyielding. Their bodies became ever more covered in uncrushable brawn. They shook in pleasure. When Kowalski thought it couldn’t become better, more pleasurable, more ecstatic, the feeling intensified further. They both became monstrously titanic behemoths of ultra-masculine perfection. They roared. They raged. They bellowed, and hugged each other in steel hard embraces, but when the transformation process of The Program reached its climactic optimum, they both fell into velvet black unconsciousness. When Kowalski awoke, he found himself lying in a hospital bed at the Infirmary. Soares was lying in another one, and, since he was reading an e-book, any suspicions about a relapse into coma were dispelled. Two weeks ago, they had been the smallest of the recruits at the Facility. Now they both looked enormous. The story continues in https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7121-project-defender-chapter-four/

For you who like army experiments and science-fiction techno-lingo just as much as I do (but as far as I can remember, there is not yet any need to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow). This continuation could probably need more proof-reading, but here goes. Dr. Skrefsrud, the timid Norwegian, is still the narrator. That may change in following chapters. Chapter One is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/ DISCLAIMER The following story do contain a small amount of racial slur and homophobia, a small amount of violence and sexual innuendo. Please do not read further if you are offended by anything of the aforementioned. The author does not sympathize with what the antagonist in the story may do or say. Project Defender – Chapter Two We kept Jones and Bjarnarsson for observation at Infirmary overnight, and Green agreed to take the night watch. Their results in the Gym had been impressing. They lifted amounts of weight probably no other living man on the planet was able to lift. Restoring a barbell to its stand, Jones looked at Smith and László part cockily, part beaming. Bjarnarsson lumbered around after the exercises with a smile, but was able to restrain his reaction to a larger extent than Jones. All samples looked more than perfect, so we let them eat breakfast at the Mess with the others. Jones and Bjarnarsson were greeted by cheers in the Mess, and during the following meals, I found the atmosphere less hostile against our scientific team. The nicknames used by Jones began to spread among the crew, which probably was a sign of acceptance. Some of the men stared at Jones and Bjarnarsson. ’Nice of y’u ter let us leave de ozzy. Ah feel ready ter hit the iron at the gym aftah brekkie.’, Jones informed us. ’Hey, Viking Guy!’, shouted Varga – a 33 year old Hungarian test subject – ’Can you assure us, that your experiment will not shrink our balls? I want to keep mine intact!’ The men at Varga’s table laughed. ’It is rather Gospodinov’s area of expertise, but as far as I understand, the formula doesn’t replace your own production of hormones, but increases it. Why don’t you ask Jones or Bjarnarsson, if you dare?’ I smiled. Varga’s table roared with laughter. I put down my tray besides the nice Poles, Zielinski and Kowalski, and sat down. Kowalski stared impressed on Jones and Bjarnarsson. Zielinski and Kowalski were eating their egg white omelette with spinach. I had a bowl of porridge. I chatted with the friendly and polite Poles until, suddenly, a loud quarrel disrupted our concentration. It was De Vries, one of the Dutchmen, and Taylor, the Caribbean-British test-subject, who quarrelled. By the look of it, it seemed that De Vries had bumped into Taylor. The latter’s breakfast lay at the floor. ’Watch where you’re going, monkeyboy! I thought this was a project for Europeans? Who let the apes out of the cage? My granddad didn’t leave South Africa for the Old Country for this, I can assure you.’ The initially calm Taylor froze rigidly, and his gaze changed into a burning mode. The Dutchman stared arrogantly on him with his green eyes, but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. ’That’s not acceptable, corporal.’, Major Murphy said. He had swiftly left the table of honour, when he became aware of the situation. ’This is a warning. Never behave like that again. Is that understood?’ De Vries looked down in the floor, with a surly expression. ’Is that understood, corporal?’, Major Murphy roared. ’SIR! YES, SIR!’, De Vries answered. The other Dutchman, Van Gelder, approached Taylor with a concerned expression: ’I’m so sorry. Most of us from The Netherlands are not like him.’ ’I know.’, Taylor answered, ’It’s not your fault.’ The breakfast-eating men returned to their meal. Van Gelder invited Taylor to his table. De Vries had left the Mess Hall in a hurry. As usual, morning hours were full of scheduled interviews and medical examinations, and when the research team returned to The Lab after lunch, I looked at the list with disappointment. ’O no!’ Smith, Lamarck and Gospodinov looked up, surprised. ’What is it?’, Smith asked. ’Look at the list of test-subjects scheduled for this afternoon. De Vries! The man who behaved so badly in the Mess at breakfast, and was a nuisance at the gym some days ago.’ When the event happened, Lamarck and Gospodinov had already left the Mess, so I and Smith told them what had happened. Gruber lurked unseen behind the screen in the corner at the neuro-programmer, as usual. László returned from the gym, still sweating. ’The Schedule was determined long before this happened. He has to be processed sooner or later, anyhow.’, Gospodinov said. A few minutes later, Green checked the waiting room. Corporal De Vries and Sergeant Varga sat there, waiting. ’Ah. A fellow countryman! Hungarian brawn!’, László joked with Varga. The joking manner in which it was said, aside, it was very true. Like László himself, the thirty-three year old Varga seemed to be very interested in physical exercise, and genetically blessed, at that. A hint of envy could be seen in De Vries’ eyes, when he looked at Varga. We repeated the process which Jones and Bjarnarsson had endured, with only slightly enhanced settings. Gruber attentively studied the brainwave patterns of the test subjects. ’Oh! Um. Um. Um… nagy, nagy,! Ummm. Igen. Nagy. Mmmm… …Jól! Oh, um… kiváló… Mmmm… Ungh, ungh… nagyobb! Oh, oh, oh! Több. Több, több, több: IGEN! … Uh, nagyobb! NAGYOBB! Ough, oh, um, nnn, erősebb! Umngh… hatalmas, umngh… roppant, umngh… erőtejlesnek, umngh… óriásiabb, umnnngh, óriásiabb, umnnngh, óriásiabb, óriásiabb, óriásiabb, ÓRIÁSIABB! ÓRIÁSIABB!!! AH! UNGH! AAARGH!!!’, Vargas mumbled and shouted in his mask-mic, unaware of his surroundings. Under the pressure of The Program, both test subjects had mainly reverted to their native languages, and had given in to the overwhelming transformation experience. A very, very strange sound emerged from the speakers, like someone tried to stuff a leather sofa with raw meat. ’Ah! Um, keihard! Uh, uh, uhmm… onbreek…mmm, nnnn… Aan- OH! -genaam… Ja! Meer! Meer! Veel meer! VEEL MEE… UNGH! Ungh, ungh, ungh, goed, zo goed… umngh! Uhn! Heel goed!!! Umnh, uh, unnn… …ben ijzer sterk! Ungh, zal… uh, uh, tegenstand… vernietigen… Nnng… Ja! Ja! Unnnh! Allemaal… umngh, breken… EINDELOOS!!!’ De Vries had been the smaller of them when he stepped into the Chamber, but when Green had released them from their IV’s, and Gruber released them from their neuro-helmets, De Vries and Varga were of the same size, about two metres and with chests around 190 centimetres or so. Both had grown somewhat in height, but above all they had developed large amounts of well-defined and well-proportioned muscle mass. If Varga had been well built before the process, he now resembled an ancient statue of Hercules, although clean-shaven and with a buzz cut. Gospodinov and Green were preoccupied with the upcoming blood-tests, and Lamarck and Gruber watched the naked men in the same cool, objective way they would have watched a piece of cold meat for dissection on a slab. I felt awkward and somewhat threatened by the presence of the huge naked men, and I was not alone among the younger scientists to be shaken in my professional calm. A small suggestion of envy could be seen in the glance of László, and Smith’s ears were blossoming in red. With a delighted countenance, Vargas squeezed his chest muscles and biceps. Despite their maturely masculine features, both László and Varga broke up in boyfully delighted smiles, and their friendly warm brown eyes lit up in joyful mischief. They began to discuss in their own language: ’… nagyobb mint Vörös Zoltán, Molnar Peter…’ I didn’t understand a word, but they seemed enthusiastic. If the Hungarians’ eyes were filled with delight, the green eyes of De Vries were filled by something much more unsettling, in a mix of smugness and disdain. ’Don’t like what you see, Doctor Smith?’, De Vries said with a malicious smile, ’Or perhaps that is exactly what you do, don’t you?’ De Vries took a step forward, and ripped the white lab coat open from the embarrassed Smith’s tiny frame. Smith’s crotch bulged inside the fly. ’I will not allow a small fat faggot ogle me.’, the enraged De Vries said, and gripped Smith’s throat in an incredibly fast movement. De Vries lifted his other arm, and aimed for a stroke. ’I will not allow any pervert ogle me.’ Smith was suffocating. In the same moment a powerful hand grabbed De Vries’ lifted arm. It was Sergeant Varga. With the crook of his other arm, he grabbed De Vries’ neck, and tried to wrestle De Vries to the floor. The men struggled, and, since they were of the same size, the fight was even. Gospodinov and Lamarck hid in Gruber’s corner. László looked like he was considering joining the fight. Smith sat on the floor, dizzy. Jones and Bjarnarsson had taken up the habit to help the nurses with the amniotic fluid, which was heavy to carry. They now stepped inside the lab door, carrying large plastic containers, and observed the situation for a second. The next second Varga, Jones and Bjarnarsson had achieved a lay-out, and led the delinquent to Major Murphy. Jones had stayed behind while Varga and Bjarnarsson left, carrying De Vries between them. ’’ang on a mo’! Glad we could ’elp yuh, Doc. That gobshite divvy of a Dutchman ’ad ed coming. ’e be’aved like a tosser ter Taylor a’ breakfast, and, truth be said, ’as be’aved like a whopper all week, waiting tuh be marmalised. ’e orta calm down, otherwise ’e will receive a good thrashing by the entire Company. Yuh may be a posh twat, Doc, even a little bit of a pooftah, but yer our pooftah, zapping us all with yer magic machine over there, so for me it is more important tha’ yuh are a good scientist, than wha’ever makes yuh ’orny. Yuh do yer part in the war against the space squid by turning me and me crew into fuckin’ unbelievable fighting machines, an’ tha’s great. Yuh duhn't deserve ter be treated the way tha’ Dutch feller treated yuh. Ah suppose ed is flattering in a sense, tha’ yuh consider me an’ others in d’crew tuh be real bruisers. Just try ter avoid staring tuh much on me, so am Ah boss with ed.’ ’I never intended to embarrass you or De Vries or anyone else. I am, rather, embarrassed myself.’, Smith answered. ’No worries, Doc. I consider yuh a mucker nuw. Cotton me right: Ah will not deny two perfectly straight lads ter ’ave fun with each uvver, after surviving an air attack. Such things ’appen. D’thing Ah not like is ponceyness. Anyhuw, if the divvy cause up any shute again, duhn’t hesitate to tell me.’ He patted Smith carefully on the shoulder, and went. The next day Corporal Janssens, one of the Belgians, and Corporal Radu, one of the Romanians, went through the Procedure, and reacted just as well as Jones and Bjarnarsson did. Gruber decided to take brainwave samples of all specimens who reacted well to the treatment, in the hope to soon awake Soares and Johansson from their comatose state. With six successful cases, the mood in the Mess Hall had definitely improved. ’You are welcome to sit at our table if you want, Viking Guy.’, Kowalski told me at the queue with a serious expression. When we sat, eating, he asked: ’Do you think you will be able to awake Corporal Soares soon? And Corporal Johansson, of course.’ While Zielinski and two of the Czech test subjects listened silently, I explained our hopes as comprehensible as possible. ’Oi! Doc! You can’t let Jones have this advantage on me. How soon will you put me in the magic box?’ ’By the look of it, Radu’s wife will be overwhelmed of joy when he comes home. Hey there, Boffin! Can you assure all of us the same marital happiness?’ Roars of laughter. Radu throwing a roll on the man who spoke. A proud Janssens shouted: ’Anyone who want to watch when Coach measure how much I lift by now?’ When I went to bed at Hall 3-6-3, it was with the feeling of relief and optimism. From now on, everything would probably go better, without any unscheduled hiccups or accidents. I didn’t know how wrong I was. *** I awoke by a sound. Subdued noises came from the neighbouring room and the passage. I was sleepy and confused. Barefoot and only wearing a pair of pyjamas, I peeked out in the passage. It was Gruber and Varga. ’You will end this stupid joke immediately’, Gruber said in a harsh voice. ’Negative.’, Varga answered: ’You are not a part of The Program.’ ’I demand that you obey orders, soldier!’, Gruber said heatedly. ’I am programmed to obey The Program, Doctor. You are not a part of The Program.’ ’I am scientifically responsible for this Programme, soldier. Now obey my orders!’, Gruber shouted. ’Negative. You are not a part of The Program. Stay back, civilian. You are not part of this Program.’ Varga carefully pushed Gruber aside, and, oblivious of the Professor’s rage, strode away, and found me there, listening. He observed me unimpassionately for a second, and then said: ’You are not a part of The Program. You have been found attuneable to The Program. You will be integrated into The Program.’ When we entered the main corridor, I found Jones waiting there with an almost naked László, who had been pinioned with skipping-ropes from the Gym, and silenced with a towel. Something was strange with Varga’s and Jones’ eyes, like they were drugged, hypnotised or not really there. They bound a towel over my mouth. Without any comment, they led me and László to the Lab, and without further ado, they started the equipment the way they had seen us do it a couple of times. László, who was only dressed in a pair of jockstrap pants, and looked like a drowsy but angry commercial for nutritional supplements, tugged in his ropes, and was red in his face by his attempts to release himself. He was unable to speak, but his gaze viewed Jones and Varga with defiance. ’You will be integrated into The Program, Doctor Skrefsrud.’ ’This is ridiculous. Is this a joke? I am not a soldier, but a scientist. Will you now please release me and Doctor László.’ ’Incorrect. You will be integrated into The Program.’ Somewhat of Jones own personality broke through: ’Honestly, Viking Guy. With tha’ starving greyhound build of yours, ed would be bright ter pack onna few pounds o’muscle.’ I was unable to stop Jones and Varga from carrying out their insane plan. Their large and strong hands undressed me and threw my pair of pyjamas on a bench. They swabbed my skin at the spot where my subcutaneous implant was, and administered the IV. Electrodes monitoring my heart were placed at the ordinary places, the neurohelmet over my head, and the breathing mask over my face. I felt the strong warm hands of Varga helping me into the sluice. The doors behind me shut and the doors to the chamber opened. The humming increased in volume. CHAMBER ONE IS [NOT OCCUPIED] AND [WARMING UP] [Preparing for] Specimen: Dr. Skrefsrud Weight: 68 kilogrammes Height: 179 centimetres Chest: 96 centimetres Waist: 71 centimetres Arm: 35 centimetres Thighs: 55 centimetres Theoretically, I knew what to expect, when the machine began to hum softly, but to be present inside the claustrophobic cylinder during the procedure was something entirely different, than to impartially observe and document the process. Weakly, I pounded in panic against the steel and glass walls of the cylinder. But the entrapment was neither the only reason, nor the foremost reason for my fear. I knew, that soon the machine would expose my mind and my body to a Program built for highly trained soldiers, and highly trained soldiers prophylactically prepared in days and weeks before, at that. God knows what would happen if an unprepared civilian underwent the treatment. I knew my duty in this war: To use my scientific knowledge in order to help The Boys achieve their highest standard of performance, but not become a useless civilian test subject. It went against all reason – tactically and otherwise. With a gurgling sound the liquid began to pour and stream into the chamber, but the sound quickly changed into a resounding noise reminiscent of a faucet filling a tub, or a small fall streaming into a brook. The level rose quickly. My useless attempts to break free from the cylinder were soon swallowed by the near-oblivious state caused by the analgesic and tranquillising components of the IV-formula devised by Gospodinov and Lamarck. I wasn't fully aware about it, but my body was infused with the genetic modifiers, the hormonal stimulants and the highly concentrated nutrients necessary. My body braced itself, and was primed for the upcoming transformation. When I regained consciousness, I was floating weightlessly in the comfortably warm liquid, and one second of panic over the risk of drowning was quickly driven away by the reassuring hissing from the comfortably tight-fitting breathing mask. Everything was shimmering in a beautiful blue colour, and the inside of the cylinder had become almost mirror-like, only vaguely hinting about the human shapes moving or standing outside. I had been worried before. Why had I been worried before? Everything was warm, pleasant and blue-shimmering now, and very still and calm. With a whirring sound the helmet’s eyeshield lowered itself before my eyes. A black display with brightly coloured text and graphics filled my range of vision, and shut the view of the Chamber out. I saw the digital graphic charts of my present physique and the settings of the Morphogenetic Fields. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [iNITIATING] [NEURO-PROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Suddenly, something began to hammer relentlessly against my mind. No! I don't want to... No! No! No, no, no, no, oh no, oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, uh, uh, uh, uh, ungh, ungh, ngh, nng, nng, nng, mnng, mnng, mnng, mnng, uh: Sir! Yes, Sir! Yes! O, yes! 101 0000… … 101 0010 100 1111 100 1010 100 0101100 0011 101 0100 010 0000 100 0100 100 0101 100 0110 100 0101 100 1110 100 0100 100 0101 101 0010… I integrated into The Program, and merged perfectly into the Project, becoming one of the test subjects, and evolving into another specimen of the new breed of super soldiers. Correction: Becoming one of us, and evolving into a part of the unit. This individual unit will obey the direction to protect the military unit and all civilians. This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. No-one will be permitted to abolish or limit the aim of The Program. This individual unit is now attuning perfectly. This individual unit of The Program is now becoming enhanced. This individual unit is now becoming augmented according to plan. Words does not suffice to describe what happened in a matter of seconds: Instantaneously I became an expert on hundreds of weapon technologies, and my ability to make fast and correct tactical decisions in a situation was intensified in an incredible way. Close combat skills I never had were now deeply ingrained in my primal instincts, and I didn't feel fear: At least not the sort of fear which paralysed in a situation. I was still equipped with the ability to recognise and assess danger. The mental and emotional turmoil of the reprogramming was fading into focused serenity again. The liquid was warm against my skin, and my body felt warm and comfortable. I opened my eyes, and saw the display still folded down before them. The outline of my present physique stood out against the black background, sketched in blue lines, and the outline of the Morphogenetic Fields was drawn in green as usual. Suddenly, someone outside the cylinder was obviously editing the standard settings, in contradiction to the usual protocol. The cursor clicked on the traps, delts, pecs, lats and every other muscle of the anatomical drawing glowing in green, and made the skeleton taller and more broad shouldered. For a second, I reacted alarmed by the changes: Someone was compromising the safety of The Program, and the green anatomical drawing was now depicting a brutally built titanic individual. The next second I relaxed: This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. Another change of settings almost escaped my attention, since the display now folded upwards: Hypertrophic radiation 300%. I could now see my blue-shimmering surroundings again. The next moment liquid blue was turned into flaming gold. I had always been absent minded. When sitting at a desk, my thoughts were always preoccupied by the studies and reports I read, not of my physical environment, my bodily posture, or my own breathing. When my legs walked through corridors at hospital or university, my thoughts and my self always wandered somewhere else. Actually, I had never been really and fully aware of my own bodily presence. It was different now. I felt my heartbeat resound in all my blood vessels, and my lungs greedily drank the oxygen-mixture hissing into my mouth from the breathing mask. And I felt how my personal awareness entirely filled up my body: my hardening torso, my broadening back, my now powerful thighs, my calves. And my arms! O, my arms! A hard, warm feeling filled my triceps’, bicep’s, the vein-covered fore-arms, and there was no part of my body, not fingers, nor toes, which was not entirely and perfectly a part of my intense, conscious, bodily presence. For the first time in my life I was aware. Present. Embodied. Physical. Me. That was just the beginning. Lightning struck. Power streamed into my being. Energy surged into my core. The flaming gold changed me, transformed my shape, enhanced my physique, transmuted the ore of my existing muscles into the steel-hard, pulsating cords and bulges of unyielding, raw, ultra-masculine brawn. I was oblivious of my surroundings now, ecstatically and deliriously consumed by The Program’s anabolic bliss. Then, this individual unit was optimised and maximised according to The Program. Strange stretch… But so pleasant. Pain. Excitement. O yeah! Height soaring. So tall, now. Lava heat in lats, broadening. Pump-like, entirely. Oh, oh, oh, uh! The feeling! Massive thighs, and fucking incredible calves. Cannonball glutes. Dense, hard, ripped, rocky, burning abs! So hard, mmmnnngh, so indestructible. Warm, heavy and insane arms. Unbreakable arms. Mountains! Pecs like armour! Titanic delts. Ridge of granite traps! Uh! Uh! This individual unit fluctuated between being entirely controlled by The Program and being aware of individuality. The desire to grow muscular may have existed in the deep recesses of the unit even before, or it may not, but anyway it now burned with this one focus: To optimise. To maximise. To be a useful instrument of this military unit. My one mission at the moment was, for my brothers’ sake, to increase my ability to run, haul, tug, lift, tear, throw, punch… The change! The powerblaze change! Growing. Hardening. Defining. Don’t stop it! Don’t end it! Raw power charging every atom! More! Unit want more! Optimise me! Maximise me! Increasing fire! Increasing power charge! Yeah! O yeah! Fucking yeah! So amazing! Pervading power… Yes! More! Unit will comply. Unit will protect. Unit powerful. Unit… mmmnnngh! Will use enhanced… Yes! Yes! … to defend… Yes! …mmmnnngh! I was losing control entirely, and wasn’t aware of which words or sounds I emitted. I dived, oblivious of the outer world, in a sea of radiant energy. I only knew that I craved to be even bigger. The separation between what was my bodily frame and the surrounding sea of energy began to blur. It felt like the entire ocean of power gushed into me. The power ocean filled me. I was the power ocean. O God! Uh, uh, grow, uh, uh, uh, unstoppable, uh, uh, uh, big, uh, uh, uh, hard, uh, uh, unh, unh, unh, power, unh, unh, charged, unh, crackling, unh, loaded, ungh, ungh, brimming, ungh, buzzing, ungh, umngh, umngh, umngh, mmmm, ah! Mmmm, ah! Mmmm, AH! MMMM AH! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! AH! AH! I AM INVINCIBLE! …! I had become a living weapon. When this individual unit regained consciousness, the liquid was fading, and the surface of the liquid was at my waist. The liquid no longer kept me floating in weightlessness, and I had to stand on my feet. My large feet felt vaguely unusual for me, but anyhow I knew that I was perfectly able to use them in close combat. The receding solution revealed to me the feeling of this heavyweight body and the faces of my team-members outside the hypertrophic chamber: Worried but awe-struck (László), embarrassed but excited (Smith) and triumphant (Jones and Varga). When only a negligible amount of remaining liquid was whirling at the bottom of the glass cylinder, it opened, and Smith relieved me from the breathing mask and the neuro-helmet. ’I don’t know what to say’, Smith murmured. I eyed one of the screens, which still reported my new statistic data in light blue letters: CHAMBER ONE IS [NOT OCCUPIED] AND [iN STANDBY MODE] Specimen [leaving chamber]: Dr. Skrefsrud Weight: 197 kilogrammes Height: 205 centimetres Chest: 203 centimetres Waist: 109 centimetres Arm: 79 centimetres Thighs: 101 centimetres ’The insurgence of the test subjects is unnerving, and their insane idea to meddle with the settings made me worry for your and Green’s lives, but it doesn’t seem to be that dangerous. Quite contrary, as it seems. Do you feel alright?’ ’Green?’, I asked. ’Yes. As soon as they had placed you in Chamber 1, they put Green in Chamber 2. Do you feel alright?’ Outside the cylinder I began to notice the full consequences of the process. I was looking down on Smith who eyed my abs before he reached up to remove the IV tube. My vivid memory of once being a hardgainer now seemed as a bad joke. My broad shoulders were melons of marble, and my chest consisted of well-defined steel-hard pecs, separated by a deep valley continuing downwards between the cobblestone abs. My upper body had achieved a perfect V-shape. I felt confident, energised and content. ’I haven’t felt better in my entire life. Trust me. This is incredible, truly incredible.’ Smith swallowed. ’You look indescribably well, Skrefsrud, although I feel a little bit intimidated by you. Will you please help me to release Green from Chamber 2, so we can discuss the problem of the test subjects.’ ’The problem?’, I asked. ’Which problem?’ ’O come on, Skrefsrud. I mean the insurgence. They can’t use the lab against our permission, and experiment on persons who are not even test-subjects. We have to awake Major Murphy or Captain Melnyk.’ ’I see no problem. You are attunable to The Program. This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program.’ ’O God! It can’t be true? You have become one of them!’ ’I am a part of The Program. You will become a part of The Program. Do not worry, citizen. You will become an enhanced and augmented unit. Jones enjoyed the procedure. Varga enjoyed the procedure. I enjoyed the procedure. You will enjoy the procedure.’ Jones and Varga observed with equal amounts of sense of duty, glee and compassion, when I began to undress Smith, who looked like a trapped animal. Intense fear shone from his eyes, when I put the neurohelmet on his head, and fastened the breathing mask over his nose and mouth. The experience of standing naked, surrounded by three insanely muscular men, of which one was stark naked and two were uniformed, seemed to involuntarily cause conflicting emotions in Smith. He sported an obvious hard-on. I pressed my powerful hand to his tiny shoulder, in order to steady him when I placed the IV tube in his subcutaneous membrane. He panicked, but his voice became inaudible when I closed the doors of the hypertrophic chamber. Next, we released Green from Chamber 2. He had reacted well to The Program, and followed it as dutifully as expected, but, by unknown reasons, he hadn’t grown entirely as much as myself. Jones, Varga, Green and myself were one in purpose when we turned around, and looked at László. During the struggle before my transformation, László had maintained a cocky and defiant attitude towards Jones and Varga, but now he sat bound to his chair with his shoulders sloped in a resigned expression. Jones let me free László from the ropes, and in silence László began unprompted to undress, and stepped into Chamber 2. His resigned expression was mixed with something else, and when I administered the IV-tube, he looked on me with an eager smile. Anticipation shone from his warm brown puppy eyes. ’I have worked out my entire life, Skrefsrud. If this is my destined way to achieve my dreams, so be it. I very much doubt, that I will resist the treatment the way you and Green tried. Bring it on, soldier! All you have, and then some. Fiddle with the settings if you believe it will benefit The Project. See you on the other side.’ Jones closed the doors, and Green activated Gospodunov’s anabolic formula. In order to alleviate Smith’s fear, the tranquillisers and analgesics were administered in a somewhat higher dose. We looked at the screen: CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL] Specimen: Dr. Smith Weight: 85 kilo grammes Height: 170 centimetres Chest: 106 centimetres Waist: 96 centimetres Arm: 30 centimetres Thighs: 66 centimetres CHAMBER TWO IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL] Specimen: Dr. László Weight: 92 kilo grammes Height: 176 centimetres Chest: 121 centimetres Waist: 81 centimetres Arm: 48 centimetres Thighs: 66 centimetres ’Which settings do we prefer?’, I asked Jones and Varga. They thought for a few seconds. ’Let’s experiment. You don’t know the outer limits of the procedure yet, do you?’ The four of us looked at the screen. After some thought, Green adjusted the balance of the nutrients slightly. Jones asked about the levels of hypertrophic radiation, and, after a discussion between myself and Green, we combined a 350% level with an increased saturation of nano-particles. We modified the morphogenetic field even further than during the processing of me and Green. Thirty minutes later, Lászlo roared in excitement. ’Make me into one of them! Make me… Yes! Make me into one of you! Yes! Yes! Make me into one of… Uh, uh, uh, into one of us! Yes, yes, YES! Sir, yes sir!’ His speech faded into guttural noise, when the proficiency and behavioural patterns were implanted into him. He hadn’t resisted The Program. We turned our attention to Smith’s Chamber. He was awakening for the reprogramming. ’Don’t meddle with the settings! Let me out! Are you still out there? The walls are like blue mirrors now. I can’t see you. Hello? Are you there? Don’t put the machine on. Ouch! I’m burning! Ah! Ah!’ We were able to see Smith from the outside of the Chamber. The translucent cylinder revealed his small, pale and portly body floating weightlessly in the blue solution like a dark-haired pallid pear. ’No! I will not! I will certainly not! Will… Mmmm. No. Not! Mmmm… No! I refuse! I… Mmmm… We will… I… Mmmm… Oh! The Program! Mmmm… We… Uh, uh, uh, ah, ah… Mmmm… SIR! YES, SIR!’ His body stiffened and arched a moment, but then relaxed. The reprogramming took over, and Smith’s pulse slowed down from the dangerous rate Green had monitored cautiously. After a while the usual humming sound began and increased in volume, until the golden lightning bombarded László’s and Smith’s defenceless bodies. Through the golden red flares the outlines of our new recruits were only dimly seen, but it was obvious that they grew in height and muscle mass. Body fat swiftly burned away from Smith under the pressure of the energy-consuming process, and hints of an emerging six pack could be faintly traced. The screen reported their changes better, than an observation of the actual chambers did, since the light from the bolts and surges was nearly blinding in the beginning of the process. The anatomic charts in blue lines were gradually moving closer to the surrounding charts in green lines. Inside the chambers László and Smith murmured, grunted and groaned without coherent sentences, lost in their intense experiences, in a manner not unknown for anyone who belonged to The Project himself. Smith’s voice had deepened into a pleasant bass. From the fragments of their moaning, it seemed like they were able to see their own reflections in the inside surface of the chambers. From the speakers connected to László’s mask we heard: ’Oh. Ah. Oh. Mmmm. Ah. Fucking pump! Nnnn. Uh. So awesome! Oh, yes. Oh, yes! Oh, my abs! Mmmm. Ah. Fucking Lesukov pecs! Coleman back! Love this feeling. Uh. Ah. Oh! Better than exp… Oh! Yes! More! Ripped! Mmmm, ah! Look at these! Mmmm. I’m so… oh! Uh. Yes! Brutal! Beyond! Nnnn! Nnng! Will defeat… Uhnnn!’ From Smith’s mask-mic we heard: ’Yes. Yes, yes. Attuned… Nnnn. Enhanced… Nnnn. Um. Augmented… Nnnm. Resist every… Nnnm. Mmmm. Immense! Mmmm. Herculean! Mmmm. Powerboast! Oh! Gigantic! Titanic! Oh! Oh! OH! This unit… mnnn… defend … Oh. Ah. Oh! So full, tight, hard, oh, uh, uh. Mmnngh, massive, mmnngh, brutal, fucking, oh, nnnh, ah. So… uhnn, uhnn.’ Through the raging glow of the hypertrophic radiation we saw László and Smith change. László had been in very good shape already, but even he was changing. He was taller now, and more broad shouldered than before. His shoulders were like volley balls, and were still growing. His twitching pecs were like basket balls pulsating of their own life. His abs were like tightening tennis balls cast of some strange uncrushable metal. In the case of Smith, the ongoing transformation was even more sensational. His once fragile and unhealthy appearance had lost all traces of bodyfat, and now loomed inside the Chamber, like some tall, overwhelming muscular living monument, purposely designed to instil wariness, respect and awe in the beholder. He was built by unbelievably powerful, still growing, muscles contracting and pulsating in the glow of the empowering emissions of buzzing hypertrophic bolts. His enormous bull-neck and insanely defined abs, obliques and serratus made it hard to believe it was the same man. His chin had grown larger and was now indented by a little dimple. He had been well-shaven at the moment he had been forced into the Chamber, but now his chin and cheeks were covered in short, dark stubble. The transformation process just went on and on, for a longer duration and with more extreme results, beyond what we had thought possible. Jones and Varga looked fixedly on the men in the chambers. The golden light from the rays illumined their facial expressions of obedience to The Program, pride over their new recruits, and awe before the intimidating and insanely bulging behemoths of bronzed steel inside the cylinders, radiating confidence, superiority, ultra-masculinity and strength. Green checked the screen. CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Dr. Smith Weight: [213 kilo grammes] [AND INCREASING] Height: [209 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Chest: [210 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Waist: [118 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Arm: [82 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Thighs: [110 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] CHAMBER TWO IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] Dr. László Weight: [215 kilo grammes] [AND INCREASING] Height: [211 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Chest: [212 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Waist: [120 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Arm: [85 centimetres] [AND INCREASING] Thighs: [109 centimetres [AND INCREASING] The charts in blue lines almost conformed to the charts in green lines, and the difference between the charts diminished every second. The grunts and moans from the recruits changed into bellowing roars of excitement. ’Big! Big! Big, big, big, big, big, oh fucking ah!’ ’Process intense! Uh, uh, uhngh! Affirmative!’ ’These… Oh, yeah! And these… O my God!’ ’Oh, in-du-ration … of … mnnngh! Ah, oh, uh! Achieving!’ ’Uhnn, uhnn, uhnn, ah, oh, ah, ah. AH! AH! AH! Yes! Yes! YES! YE… AAH! AAAH!!! THE POWER! …!’ ’Optimising! MAXIMISING! Nnngh, mnnngh, AAH! AAAH NGH!!!’ The humming sound from the chambers subsided, the thunderstorm in gold abated, and the fluid flushed into the draining gutter. When the chambers had become free from the liquid, the test subjects stepped outside. *** For me and Green it was obvious that we now had enough useful data about a healthy way to execute the Procedure. ’Lieutenant Jones. The data needed for reawakening of Corporal Soares and Corporal Johansson are most probably gathered by now. The Program demand their integration and reinstallment.’ ’Yes, it does, Doctor Skrefsrud. This will be undertaken.’ While Jones and László went to Infirmary, the now uniformed Smith looked at his goggles on the desk: ’I have no use for these anymore. My sight is perfect after the morphogenetic treatment – a positive side-effect we hadn’t considered.’ He grabbed his spectacles with his huge hand, and crushed them into pieces, throwing the remains in the recycling boxes for glass and metal. A few minutes later, the thuggishly built Jones held Soares’ fragile and defenceless body in his powerful arms, with a concerned and protective expression. He cradled Soares’ unconscious body carefully, and gave me the impression of an alpha male wolf protecting a wounded cub. Similarly, but even taller, and with his brutal build, László loomed at the far end of the Lab with – the already slightly transformed – Johansson. Only a man built like László could have been able to carry Johansson on his own. The synthetic amniotic fluid in the chambers was replaced by a cleaning chemical and emptied. The machines were already warming up for another step for The Program and some of its recruits. Several hours remained of the most eventful night of the experiment. The story continues in https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7120-project-defender-chapter-three/

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You might want to read Part 1 first: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2649-the-geek-squad-the-virgin-awakens-muscle-genie/(First story) The frightened thin black man tries to reason with his horny possessed white coworker who continues to move towards him. Van makes a few jabbing motions with the knife to make him back off but Owen just smiles and acts like he is going to walk right into the blade. The scared man figures out that his method of action isn’t working so he throws the object across the room and tries to get away past the area of where the other behemoths are located. He feels someone grabbing his foot and trying to get him to trip. He manages to somehow get free from them and races towards one of the windows in the department boss’s office. He grabs a chair from in front of the window and launches it through the glass shattering it. He turns around just long enough to notice that Owen, Casey, and Merrill are on his tail. Without hesitation, he climbs out on to the windowsill and starts moving slowly along the ledge to the right side of the building. He turns the corner and stops to catch his breath before peeking around. Merrill immediately jumps out the window and yells in delight as he lands feet first onto the street below. He starts looking around the area for Van while laughing loudly. Casey follows next but doesn’t jump out like Merrill did. Instead he tries to climb out but quickly realizes that his thick calves and quads are preventing him from getting some kind of balance on the much smaller windowsill. He slips and starts to fall off before grabbing a hold of the ledge. He yells for Owen. ‘Ohh gawd…..Owen please help me man. I have no way of holding on to this ledge. My muscles are too wide and I can’t hold on…..’ The possessed smaller man reaches out and tries to grab the wet hulking brute, but can’t get a grip on him because of his immensity. He screams as he falls to the ground. Surprisingly, he is not killed when he lands on the concrete. Instead he creates a huge crater underneath him and passes out from the force he causes. Merrill is heard laughing hysterically nearby as he sees this happening. Van turns back around and puts his head in his hands trying to compose himself somehow. Owen peeks out the window and looks around before he starts speaking. ‘Vance…..come on man…..let’s just finish this. You are the last one in the department that hasn’t given in to me. Your will is just too strong for some reason. Every time I try to make you give in to my mind, you are able to resist me somehow. You know I care greatly about you don’t you and just want to give you what the others have accepted.’ Owen slowly climbs out on the ledge and moves to his left thinking that Van might have went in that direction. The scared black man looks around again and sees that he is going the wrong direction. After seeing this, he starts moving slowly himself over to a ladder that leads up to the roof. He climbs up to the top and lands on the rooftop floor before letting out a few sighs. Merrill spots him and yells for Owen to turn back around. Van can also hear the huge behemoth on the ground trying to get Casey to wake up from his slumber. He peers over the edge of the rooftop and can see Owen starting to move around the corner towards the ladder. He gets up and starts running towards the other side of the roof. He spots another ladder and looks over the side to see where it goes. He notices that halfway down it leads to another building. Before he can get on it though, Owen is on the roof and racing towards him. The door nearby leading into the building from the roof goes flying into the air as the two bloated Germans from the office come bursting through. They grab Van by the arms and restrain him. Owen walks five feet in front of him and looks at him a bit perplexed. ‘Vance please, just let me finish what I started. You are frustrating me so much…..*perspiration begins to pour down his head*…..damnit…..I can’t concentrate anymore. What the…..*feels his own body heating up*…..you fucking assholes…..*stretch* *pop*……uhhh gawd……’ The two German monsters grin as they watch Owen struggle to keep himself from changing. He groans as he feels his arms stretching his sleeves before they split the seams. The growth moves into his chest as his pecs and lats quickly rip his shirt to shreds. His back doubles up on itself as he grows taller and wider with each breath. His legs make quick work of his pants as they emerge bloated and monstrous. He moans feeling his ass and cock destroy his briefs as he sprays the entire area around him with thick white jizz. The man that thought he was in control of the situation is now shocked to find out that he has been overpowered by two of his victims. Both Karl and Ivan have turned the tables on him by teaming up and putting their superior minds to better use. They continue to focus their energy on him as the rest of his clothing falls to the ground. He is no longer the same man he was just a few minutes before. Van attempts to get free from the Germans, but they grip even tighter. Van begins to panic as he feels his mind getting dizzy and tries to reason with them. ‘Karl…..Ivan….please let me go. You obviously got the Owen you wanted, now let me go please.’ They look at each other and smile before they respond to him in German. ‘Ohh wir haben einen plan in ordnung Van. Es geht um sie und Owen.’ Hearing them both use his name and Owen’s scares him immensely as he sees the new monstrous Owen in front of him waddle up and start to rip his shirt off. Van yells in fright knowing that this might be the end of him in his current state if he doesn’t get free. He kicks the two Germans legs several times before they drop him on the floor below. He jumps on to the ladder behind him and goes racing down it. He lands on the railing halfway down and gets up quickly to move away from them. He looks up briefly and notices that all three behemoths are looking down at him but they don’t follow. He manages to run over to the area he saw before and stops to catch his breath. He can’t figure out how Karl and Ivan were able to overpower Owen’s mind and make him grow massive just like they are. He then realizes that Merrill might be in pursuit since he is on the ground floor somewhere so he looks around the area closely below him. Knowing that they likely won’t be able to get to him where he is at because of their immense size, he collapses on the walkway. He has direct sight of where the three men are standing. They just continuously stare at him relentlessly. Van’s breathing intensifies as the sweat slowly starts to pour off his head and down his exposed chest. He yells out loud realizing that they are ganging up on him. He can see Merrill now in the corner of his eye around the corner in a nearby alley with Casey directly beside him. They are also looking at him intensely from where they are standing. The resistance at this point seems futile as he feels the pain intensifying in his chest and mind. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold them off since there are now five minds trying to make him just like them.

New Derek Williams story on NCMC -- I love this, it really did it for me. http://ncmc.webfactional.com/ncmc/author/derek-williams

The Teaser for this story is found here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/5008-teaser-for-the-new-story-project-defender/ DEDICATION I dedicate this story, which is my first, in gratefulness to all the persons who have given me advice: Scriptboy and Alexdrake who assisted with the translations in Chapter 2; Jocaflo, who taught me about Portuguese name customs; Arpeejay who gave me advice on stats (although I only followed most, and not all, of them); gecko888 who declined to let the French become main protagonists, but taught me a few thing about the French Armed Forces; and T. and W. who proofread (you know who you are). All quirks and oddities are the author’s own. Since English isn't my native language, please send me a message, if I am incomprehensible. Some things may have become corrupted in translation. DISCLAIMER The following Chapter do contain descriptions of verbal abuse, nakedness and sexually aroused men, a military-industrial environment, speciesism, a library scene with religious and atheist books, jokes about national stereotypes, a smaller amount of uncouth speech, together with a lot of Northern European irony and sci-fi references probably best understood by the age range born 1960-1990. If you may take offence of anything aforementioned, you are hereby strongly reckommended to not read further. Please, go away. You have been warned. DON'T PANIC Oh, and another thing: If the complicated background (which is two thirds of Chapter One) tire you out, you can jump right to 'It was afternoon again. Lamarck and Gospodinov had beeen unusually...' after three stars ***, in order to come to the growth bit, but you wouldn't understand the sci-fi-scientific lingo then. Added in 2021: For continuity reasons, I have edited a few details. Project Defender – Chapter 1 My heart sank in my breast, and I felt a feeling of foreboding coldness in my belly, when the army jeep entered the slope leading down into the subterranean tunnel. On our way there, I had watched the skies nervously for any vessels, but the Pseudo-Crustacean Extra-Terrestrial Organisms had seemingly chosen to attack another part of the European mainland that day, so we arrived unharmed. When we had passed through the Outer Perimeter a few minutes earlier, I had heard conversations in Finnish, English (with an Irish accent) and a handful of languages I didn’t recognise among the rugged, camouflage-painted snipers around the smoking wood-fires. Several days later I was briefed, that Finland, Northern Ireland, Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia and Ukraine had volunteered to man the Outer Perimeter. I didn’t envy them, but sent them my thoughts of gratitude, since it was their dangerous duty outside, which made my assiduous work inside possible and undisturbed. The jeep continued on its way downward in the asphalt-coated meandering tunnel. On two consecutive levels we had to await the opening of armoured steel gates painted in black and yellow. Outside the first gate, the air was moist, and smelled of gasoline and rubber, but inside the gate, the jeep switched into electric mode. Silently purring without any fumes, the vehicle took us to our destination. I wasn’t surprised to find out, that my phone-watch didn’t work under the surface. The Inner Gate at the end of the Parking Hall (a natural cavern, enlarged and carved into rectangular shape by human hand) was connected to a keypad lock with microphone and speaker. ’Doctor Skrefsrud reporting for duty.’ I hoped that I used Army Speak correctly. University research teams were not environments, which trained for dealing with servicemen. ’Welcome, Doctor Skrefsrud.’, answered the metallic voice of the speaker. The gate opened for me and the driver, revealing a man-sized concrete passageway leading into Research Facility B. It was at this facility we had been ordered to assist in the defence against the Extra-Terrestrials (or PCETOs), by ’improving the performance of military human resources’, as the classified report preferred to express the purpose. All of it wasn’t classified actually. Certain parts of the scientific tools had been reported in newspapers, and an early undefined Pan-European plan about ’space marines’ had been debated in public several years ago, but nothing had happened then. And now a space invasion occurred. If the Project had been led by the European Union, several states, such as Iceland, Norway, UK (what was left of it), Albania or Ukraine would have been unable to participate. Likewise, Switzerland, the Republic of Ireland, Finland and Sweden would have refused to participate if the initiative had been taken by NATO, but since the Project was now launched by an entirely different international European body, they all agreed to do their part. The member countries had reacted in very different ways. France enthusiastically backed the project financially, and sent us their two required test subjects according to the letter of the agreement, together with a chef. UK told us, they should ’explore other means beside this laudable initiative’, but sent us lots of medical supply, two officers with a past in the SAS, a physicist and a sports medicine physician. The German negotiators obliged to take the major part of the financial burden for the Project, but informed us, that they declined to send any men at all, due to domestic political concerns. The Italian negotiator – a former Prime Minister – assured that Italy was willing to support the Project financially in many small amounts of money delivered according to a long-term plan, and tried to convince the coordinators, that a much larger share of Italian test subjects would be reasonable, ’since Italian men are more masculine than other Europeans’. I later heard a rumour, that the Spanish and Greek representatives tried to leave the negociations in an angry hurry at that moment, but our coordinators (Norwegian and Swiss diplomats, together with military officers from Ireland and Ukraine respectively) politely declined the offer: The Italians had to send just their agreed number of two men, and the placated Spanish and Greek representatives remained at the meeting until it closed. We had no fuzz with the smaller countries, but were somewhat surprised, when Liechtenstein, Andorra, San Marino and Monaco sent two test subjects each. Iceland have no army in the ordinary sense, but sent two coast guards instead. Vatican City informed us, that we ’served in a just war, if we defended the innocent’, but, due to a treaty, Vatican City was hindered to send any participants itself. Switzerland was constitutionally hindered to send any combatants on its own behalf, but sent us two Swiss Guards on the behalf of the Vatican instead. None of us on medical staff complained: The healthy, weapon-trained twenty-five year olds, sent by the Swiss, were probably more attuneable to the Project, than a pudgy, middle-aged, non-combatant, retired Ethics professor, a clerical office boy, or whatever the Vatican otherwise had been able to spare. I was met at the entrance of my new environment by Doctor Smith, an acquaintance from an international research conference. I didn’t know him very well, but, a couple of years ago, he had presented an interesting paper about Morphogenetic Fields. ’Nice to see you again, Doctor Skrefsrud. Let us skip Army Speak, while we are among fellow scientists. You will see, that the Research Facility keep us in three different areas: Military personnel at Hall 3-6-1, administration and nurses at 3-6-2 and us clever ones at 3-6-3.’ I followed Smith through the corridors carved into the stone. Research Facility B was a very vast complex of cavernous halls, coldly lit by old-fashioned fluorescent tubes. We passed an office hall with desks, computers and folders, staffed by the coordinators, Hansen and Müller, Novák, the Amanuensis and Andersson, the Registrar. ’Initially, Sweden and the Czech Republic – who had been given responsibility for the bureaucracy – wished to send women as office staff, due to equality concerns, but the European level decided against it – being worried about the risk of harassment, I suppose. Actually, several countries wished to send one male and one female soldier, but that was vetoed by Gospodinov, our endocrinologist. It was something about oestrogen balance and bad experiences from female shot-putters, back in the days. I didn’t listen attentively, I’m afraid, since endocrinology is not my field. We are only men here, now. An unusual environment, compared to my usual Oxford lab team, but I do not complain.’ Then we entered the mess hall. ’Since the Project is such a small unit, hastily gathered together in an emergency situation, there is no reason to uphold the difference between several different mess halls. I suppose the presence of us civilians has contributed to upset the ordinary structures somewhat. They didn’t know how to organise us, really.’, Smith said. ’But Major Murphy and Captain Melnyk usually sit at the short table close to that wall – reminds me of Refectory back at St. Cynhelm’s, actually – and the entire scientific department is allowed to sit there, if we wish. We have been given some slack, and we are allowed to eat together with the office staff or the test subjects if we wish. I don’t expect the grunts to read Einstein, Hawking or Vera Rubin, though.’ Smith pointed out the corridor leading to the test subjects’ living quarters, the corridor leading to the officers’ and office staff’s living quarter, the laundry, the gym, the showers, Inventory, Infirmary, meditation room, and the corridor leading to the research area. ’We have eighty-four test subjects at our disposal, organised into eleven smaller squads. Even if the result wouldn’t be optimal at the first trials, it wouldn’t take too long until we understand how to facilitate the procedure to maximum extent, or so I hope, anyhow.’ Smith was of slightly short stature, and, despite the years still left until his fortieth birthday, a somewhat rotund belly had began to grow at his mid-section. I was a few years younger than him, and had achieved my doctoral degree at the age of 31, some years before. When he brought me to the scientists’ living quarters, I found out that Smith, Green (the British sports medicine physician) and László (the hunky Hungarian nutritionist and trainer) and myself were scientists in our 30’s, and that the remaining three scientists all had passed their 60th birthday. We were assisted by four male nurses in their late twenties. We arrived at the living quarters for scientific personnel. I put my belongings in a locker, washed my face, and brought a handful of files with me to the lab. *** The following day I was focussed on directing the engineers while they unpacked most of our scientific equipment, but – to the consolation for all of us – the Dark Matter cyclotron had arrived and been installed long before my own arrival. I was therefore not fully aware that the corridors began to echo of arriving recruits, the youngest of them recently promoted to the rank of corporal at the instance they accepted the assignment to this very specialised company – the first of its kind. The briefing took place in the evening. Each of us had been instructed to give extremely short lectures in laymen’s terms – not necessarily an easy objective for a bunch of persons so accustomed to University. Major Murphy ordered silence, and in very few words presented The Program, and Captain Melnyk presented himself for the sake of the late arrivals, who hadn’t met him yet. They then assigned the scientific team to present the different aspects of The Program. ’Gentlemen. I am Professor Gruber. My area is brain physiology. My field of expertise is an entirely new way of imprinting new knowledge and new habits into the brains of persons, and enhance the speed of such things as reflexes and tactical decisions. I look forward to work together with you.’ The gaunt and bald Austrian neurological expert in his very strict grey suit, looked out over the audience with his penetrating ice-blue eyes, and ended his short speech. Gruber’s dry, aloof and abrupt style of addressing non-academicians only served to enhance László’s more relaxed and humorous style, when the latter spoke to the soldiers the same way he was accustomed to address footballers, weightlifters and bodybuilders, when he coached them: ’Hi. I’m Doctor László, but you may call me Csaba. The politician and the footballers are no relatives of mine, if you wonder.’ He chuckled. Only the two Hungarian test-subjects laughed. Under his lab coat László was dressed in a sweatshirt, tracksuit pants and sneakers. A stopwatch hanged around his neck, and he wore a heart rate reading device around his wrist. ’I am sorry that your meals will be measured with precision, and you will not be allowed to eat more than what I and my colleague here, Doctor Green, will allow. The meals will follow a planned and calculated pattern, with larger servings some days, and smaller servings some days. I assure you, that this is not at random. Theoretically, the pattern of your nutritional intake will cooperate with the other augmentation factors of The Program, to make you the best of the best. Every morning the nurses will take blood samples, urine samples and check your blood pressure. I will give you a training programme for physical exercise, and – as those of you who arrived early already have found out – we have an excellent gym at the Facility. Each one of you will see me and Doctor Green at least every eight day during the project, and the training programme will soon become individually tailored. The good news are, that servings at the meals will become larger for those who have undergone the procedure, and that it was decided that France and Italy would be responsible for sending chefs to The Program.’ Cheering from the Italians and the French. No-one else seemed to disagree, however. I looked out over a crowd of men of almost every European nationality. All of them had finished at least basic military training and served a few years, but, beyond that, their years in service ranged considerably. The youngest were 21 years old, while the most experienced of them were in their mid-30’s like László, Smith and myself. They had been sent here, not because of their age, not because of their years in service, or their military rank, but because of their performance ratings. A slender, clean shaven and rather tall man past his sixtieth year, dressed in the latest fashion suit under his lab coat, took the microphone. A moderately short carpet of dark grey frizzled hair covered his head elegantly, and a scent of a luxurious after shave was unavoidable to notice. His dark, sad and thoughtful eyes looked out over the audience. His pronunciation of English words was humming with the slightest French accent. ’ I am Doctor Lamarck. I research in genetics. The biological genetic makeup of each individual is a factor which determines the way he looks, many of his abilities and the way he reacts. Some diseases are not contagious but hereditary. In our research to cure hereditary diseases, we have discovered mechanisms, which could potentially be used to enhance physical prowess in healthy individuals. The limits of how fast, strong, enduring and quick thinking an individual is are determined by genetic factors, but we now believe that we are able to remove these limits. ’Most of you have heard about viruses, like that which cause the common cold. Besides bad viruses, which causes diseases, there are useful viruses. There are also neutral viruses – as it were – which neither cause good or bad effects on us. Modern genetic studies use such neutral viruses as a sort of vehicles or carriers of the sort of modified human DNA we hope will cure a patient. The patients’ immune systems will remove the viruses after a couple of days, but the modified DNA will stay and multiply. This method may also be used in order to enhance speed, endurance, strength or quick thinking. ’A more recent method use something called nano particles. The patient inhale the particles, which are programmed to rebuild the genetics of the patient. This is still on an experimental stage, but my team has researched for a long time, by now, how to use viral treatment and nano treatment in tandem. I have read that all of you are very good soldiers. I will rebuild you into perfect soldiers.’ The audience was murmuring excitedly for a few seconds. The sight of the men confirmed the impression I had gathered by reading their files: They were all very fit, but that common characteristic didn’t mean that they all looked the same. Far from it. Many seemed to enjoy frequent time at the gym, but without any considerable interest in fat loss or competitions. Some slim and lean (but very hard, sinewy and defined) soldiers, like the little Portuguese and his Polish friend, had very good ratings when it came to endurance tests and extremely long marches with lighter backpacks, and looked like what sprinters or fitness competitors would have looked, if they had developed more functional physiques. More than a handful of the test subjects were into bodybuilding. One of the Icelanders had competed in Strongman competitions, and had an entirely different type of physique. Some of the test subjects were under average height, but most of them were slightly above average. A handful of them were very tall – among them the Icelander and my fellow Norwegians, I proudly noticed. Doctor Gospodinov was a Bulgarian endocrinologist, close to retirement age. His hair was a formless tufty mass of grey and white, trying to escape in every direction. He was a broad shouldered man with dark brown eyes, somewhat under middle length and with a pot belly. He had unusually large cheeks, looked tired (which wasn’t surprising, since all of us had worked hard with the engineers to make the prototype chambers working), and was puffy under his eyes. He was dressed elegantly in a timeless three-piece suit under the white lab coat, and, while the rest of us had left watches and phones behind us years ago for contemporary phone-watches of different brands, he had an old-fashioned pocket watch in his waistcoat. He gave the impression to dislike the public speech situation, especially since the audience wasn’t composed of medical students. ’I am Doctor Gospodinov. I teach medicine, and I have researched on athletes my entire life. I will not bore you with giving you a full lecture in medicine. The reason that you were all surgically given a subcutaneous implant before arriving here – and as a matter of fact all of us were, although by different reasons – was to ensure easy access into your venous systems. The viral treatment by Doctor Lamarck and the hormone treatment by me will be administered through the membrane under the skin of your chest. If you want to enhance the performance of a man, it will not do to just tinker with one of the hormones, and it may even be counterproductive. A heightened dose of one performance-enhancing chemical may lower the dose of another useful and beneficial chemical. You need to take all biochemical substances naturally produced and used by the human body, and make them all interact in the right direction, in a concerted effort. If you believe that my job in this Project is to inject you with any new super-steroid, you are wrong. The negative side-effects of such a substance, if it existed, would outdo any positive effects – I suppose some of you may have heard about the bad complications of overuse of cortisone against inflammations? My job in this Project is to stimulate your own bodies to permanently produce the optimal balance of all the body’s own performance enhancing substances. After the initial treatment with this new stimulating formula – the exact composition of which is actually classified – you will not need any ongoing medication, and the effect will come from within yourselves, not from any injections or pills. The effect will remain the rest of your lives. Doktor Skrefsrud?’ Gospodinov had misjudged how much medical knowledge the recruits possessed, and he had lost most of them, despite his attempt to dumb down the subject. The awake and intelligent glimmer in the eyes of a lean and small Pole and his wiry and slim little Portuguese buddy did, however, show that not the entire class was asleep. It was my turn to speak now. I cleared my throat, and felt intimidated by standing before this sort of audience. A Dutch test subject had a very arrogant body language, and looked intently on me and the other scientists in an unnerving way with his green eyes. I cleared my throat. ’My name is Doctor Skrefsrud, and I am a physicist, just like Doctor Smith here. I will not go into any boring details, but I guess, that you will feel easier about what’s going on, if I explain the basic idea about what you will endure. You have all read about the Big Bang in Science Class at school, I suppose. The Universe expands at unfathomable speed. All visible material things are composed by a sort of matter we call ’baryonic matter’, since it is built by particles called ’baryons’: We can easily observe it, weigh it, measure it. What is less known, is that the Universe behaves in such a way, as there ought to exist another sort of matter: not easily observed, not easily measured. The expansion of the universe would render asunder the galaxies, if this other matter didn’t exist. We call it ”dark matter”, but please do not attach any importance to the word ”dark”. It is just a figure of speech.’ I had become accustomed to be perfectly clear on this account, when I educated undergraduates. The most silly and unfounded ideas could be spawned by the randomly chosen word ’dark’. It doesn’t mean ”bad”. ’There also exist ”dark energy”. For many decades, dark matter and dark energy were only hypothesised by the means of mathematics. Then, quite recently – in the early 2020’s – dark matter particles were observed by revolutionarily new means of observation. If you read science-fiction stories or comics in childhood, you know stories where the heroes get strange powers by radioactivity. In real life it doesn’t work that way: Too high amounts of radioactivity would give you cancer, not super-powers.’ The audience chuckled in a low voice. ’But dark energy radiation is not the same thing as radioactivity, since it is not baryonic.’ The audience abruptly fell silent. ’My mentor’s team has researched in several years on the probably beneficent effects of certain dark matter particles and radiation frequencies, in the hope to apply it medically. We are already in the early stages of successfully curing muscular dystrophy. In the future, we hope to help people who’ve lost a limb to grow a new limb. I know it sounds like science-fiction to you, and we haven’t reached our goal yet, but we have reason to believe, that we have the means to make Earth’s defenders against the PCETOs much better soldiers: More fit, more physically persistent, more powerful. I call this technology ’Hypertrophic Radiation’. Doctor Smith will now tell you more about how physics may help us in the war.’ Hair colours of all sorts gleamed in the artificial light, short-cut in different fashions: Buzz cuts, flattops, jarheads, short mohawks or shaved entirely. Ash-blond and fair brown seemed to be the most common hair colour among European men. Neither ’black’ nor ’blond’ are very good words to describe the variety of other actual hair colours: The glossy ’black’ of the Portuguese lads was something different from the velvet ’black’ of the two hunky Hungarians. Although you may have called the rye and golden hues of some Scandinavian test subjects ’blond’, these were actually two different colours, and these two colours also differed from the cream-coloured or almost white ’blondness’ of the two Estonians, one of the Ukrainians, one of the Finns and one of the Poles. Three of the test subjects were ginger: One of the Norwegians, one of the Britons (who stood there side by side to his Caribbean-British colleague) and one of the Irishmen. One of the men sent by France looked like he was of Polynesian-French descent. Since performance trumped everything, they didn’t share exactly the same background. Some of them were recruited from Special Units of several sorts, some from frogman units, paratroop units or marines, also depending on the various ways armed forces were organised in different European countries. ’Besides the discovery of hypertrophic radiation, which Doctor Skrefsrud just mentioned, the breakthrough in Dark-Matter-research, after a while, also confirmed the existence of Morphogenetic Fields, or Sheldrake-fields, as they also are known. Rupert Sheldrake had hypothesised about Morphogenetic Fields back in the 20th century, but very few scientists took his hypothesis seriously. That changed when Dark-Matter-research grew out of its initial phase. Now you ask: What is a Morphogenetic Field? We already knew the importance of the biological genetical makeup of each individual, as Doctor Lamarck already has described. Secondly, potential personal traits and abilities may blossom or lay dormant, dependent on outward factors such as education, physical exercise or food. But besides these two groups of factors, we now know a third group of factors: Morphogenetic Fields influence our physical development. It also seems like Morphogenetic Fields would contain and guide Hypertrophic Radiation to stimulate brain tissue, skeletal and muscular growth in certain ways. It seems like we are now able to control in which ways the Morphogenetic Fields form an organism. Each of the factors we work with in this scientific team would, on its own, enhance and augment your capacity, but the combined effect of all these factors together is so much greater. If you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to ask me after this briefing.’ *** The interviews began the following day. At the end of the day, I was exhausted by interviewing twenty-four of the men, and so were all my colleagues, with the notable exception of the inexhaustible Professor Gruber. It took us four days to interview them all. By then, László and Green had given them their individualised training programmes. The individualised meal-plans would reach the Mess Hall Kitchen next morning. Although the Project was officially meant to be performed in English, French and German simultaneously, it didn’t took long time, until we found out that it would be more practical to use English as main spoken language (although notes were written down in all the three languages). The Polish and Czech test subjects spoke German much more fluently than I did myself, but anyhow seemed reluctant to speak German. I tried to be polite, when I interviewed the Belgian, Swiss, Luxembourger, Andorran and Monegasque test subjects, and so using French, but they seemed to enjoy an opportunity to practice their English, especially one of the Belgians (who spoke Flemish at home) and the Swiss, the native tongues of whom happened to be Arpitan and Romansh. The French test subjects listened very amused to my stumbling pronunciation of the French vocabulary, and then proposed that the interview ’should continue in English, perhaps?’ The Liechtensteiners and Austrians (including Professor Gruber) would have preferred German to anything else, but since everyone else spoke English, they quickly adapted. It made the work much easier, not only for me, but also for Andersson, the Registrar from Sweden, who – although he read both languages – was reluctant to speak German or French. When I interviewed the two test subjects from UK, Jones and Taylor, I found out that they, too, were relieved when the trilingual rule was softened: None of them spoke anything else than English, and they had initially felt sheepish when they had been addressed in French or German. We worked much longer working days, than the usual eight hours, since time was essential, and a swift breakthrough in our experiment could mean life or death for so many persons. The four nurses were initially scheduled with extra recreation, since we knew that they had to be rested when night hours at Infirmary began. We needed, however, some sleep and recreation in order to think clearly, in order to not put the test subjects at risk. I found out, that our elder colleagues kept together in our free time, and seemed like fish out of water at the Facility. It took less than three days, until Gruber, Gospodinov and Lamarck began to keep together outside working hours. Most of the time they sat in the living quarters at 3-6-3, but sometimes they gathered in the Lab, since Gospodinov had a habit of smoking his cigars under the fume hood. The alternative for the four of us younger researchers, was to spend free time together, or together with some of the test subjects or office workers, either at Mess or at the Gym. *** Green and László had mainly worked together with athletes during their professional careers, and both maintained an overall healthy life style even privately. It was easy for them to befriend those among the test subjects who were interested in weight training (although that was far from all). Despite my resultless experience of weight training, I had nothing against following Green and László to the gym during lunch hour. ’Have we heard anything more from the Yankees or the Russians?’, Green asked László on our way into the gym. ’No. It seems like the transatlantic cable broke and several satellites went down quite early in the attack from the Space Squid. Kiev lost telephone- and web-connection with Moscow and Beijing. We don’t know what happens elsewhere. It is up to us now. This experiment got to work correctly, and that soon.’ László changed subject, and eyed me professionally: ’Have you worked out before, Skrefsrud? I see that your body fat is low?’ ’Actually, I worked out at a gym during my graduate studies, in order to give it a try,but since I didn’t achieve any visible results, and continued to be scrawny, I quit the gym, but continued jogging. Is the word ”hardgainer” a current one? Some of my fellow students used that word about me.’ ’Oh yes. It is a rather common situation. Some people have to eat incredible amounts in order to achieve any muscle gain. Perhaps you followed the meal plan of dieters or a baseline one. It is useless for ectomorphs.’ The scent of steel, subtly corroding of salty sweat, filled the gym, but was mixed by whiffs of talcum powder, rubber carpets and cheap anti-perspirants like Lynx. The clang and clink of weight-plates hitting each other or steel bars hitting power rack stands echoed among the stone walls, only slightly subdued by the rubber carpets. Some of the recruits had made themselves at home in the gym from Day 1. László stopped at a leg curl machine, used at the moment by two British SAS-officers: The ginger Lieutenant Jones and the Jamaican-British Lieutenant Taylor – the latter with the good looks of a young Cassius Clay. I listened absent-mindedly for a few seconds, but thought it a good idea to say hello to the men at the nearest bench. It happened to be the rather tall Polish frogman Sergeant Zielinski, his compatriot, the short paratrooper Corporal Kowalski, and the short Portuguese, Corporal Soares. Soares was lifting a bar of probably his own weight. Many of the test subjects were rather clamorous and boastful individuals, but the 21 year old Kowalski was unusually silent and reserved. Almost shy. He had a lean physical constitution, witnessing an ability to persevere and endure in extreme conditions. I had noticed that he worked out very seriously at the gym, but, despite this, he hadn’t achieved any typical bodybuilder-physique. The downy stubble on his scalp was cream-coloured and almost white. A silver pendant hung around his neck in a rather heavy chain, but I wasn’t able to see what it depicted. Corporal Soares was of the same age and same body-type as Corporal Kowalski. When he had restored the bar to the stand, he observed his surroundings with an alert and humorous gaze. ’Two other hardgainers.’, I thought for myself, and felt sympathy for them. I had finished my scheduled exercise for the day, and was on my way to the showers with László and Green, when we heard shouts from the calf raise machine in the corner. ’Who the hell brought the small fry to this project? How do you think you could meet the Space Squid in battle, or be useful subjects for these tests? Midgets!’ It was Corporal De Vries, one of the Dutchmen, who stood leaning over Kowalski and Soares. Kowalski answered less noisily, and I couldn’t hear what was said. De Vries gripped Kowalski’s t-shirt and lifted him up in the air, saying things I couldn’t hear from this distance. László was already on his way to the corner, followed by Taylor. I couldn’t hear what was said, but Taylor gripped De Vries by the shoulder. De Vries put Kowalski down, and László said something heatedly to De Vries, of which I could only hear: ’My gym. My rules.’ When Kowalski and Soares left with Taylor and László, De Vries gave them the finger behind their backs with an angry expression on his face. *** When I arrived to the Lab after lunch, Smith and Gruber were discussing their fields of research, respectively. ’Is the breakthrough of your’s recent, Professor Gruber? I’m not sure that I have heard anything about it before.’ ’The first breakthrough was with mice in 2014. We cured them from depression, by stimulating their hippocampus and reward centre simultaneously. By developing the neuro-helmet a few years later, it became possible to stimulate various parts of the brain without any cranial surgery.’ ’But what will happen now, when the same technology is applied militarily?’ ’I have scanned the brain-wave patterns of a great number of expert soldiers, and brought them together in a standardised high achieving pattern. In layman’s terms, you could say that I will implant memories or habits into the specimens, by using recordings, as it were, from other individuals.’ ’Are there any dangers to it, Professor Gruber?’ ’Not any I am aware of. Nowadays we even have equipment to translate mildly hypnotic verbal suggestions into brain wave patterns, by the help of an AI, and it has worked very well to treat insomnia and stress disorders in individual civilians. A military application is something new, and will probably need some milder adaptions and adjustments before working optimally.’ ’So it is the first time you apply it for a military purpose?’ ’Yes, and it is the first time I try to use it in this scale. How does your own part of The Program work, Dr. Smith?’ ’Initially, we had to program every detail of the Emmeffs from scratch, and in the process we blew up a lot of fruit flies and some mice, I’m afraid.’ ’Emmeffs?’ ’Oh, sorry for that. Morphogenetic Fields. It takes so long to say, so, within the team, we call them Emmeffs. After a while the mice were lucky and survived. Anyhow, later on, the computer engineering department assisted us in simplifying the programming of the fields. We had a grotesquely large prototype programming device, which determined how a standard mouse should look. We put a poor little fellow in the Chamber – he suffered from muscle dystrophy – and, voilá! – he was cured. And he didn’t explode. Later on, the engineers were able to slim down the size of the Programmer – which was a great relief, since the Black Matter Cyclotron was space consuming as it was, without the Programmer competing for space. From then on, the experiments behaved a little more – eh – standardised, I would say. One of my colleagues performed a series of experiments on a dystrophic hamster, and later turned it into a birthday present to her nephew, who called it ’Hulk Hamster’. As you see on this display, we have a sketch of a man here…’ He pressed a button. A drawing of an average man, sketched in blue lines against the black background, glow on the screen. The drawing was anatomical, and each muscle was marked in fine detail. With another button Smith could display the inner layers of those muscles who consisted of several layers. ’which is the starting point of The Process, and then…’ He pressed a third button. Another line drawing lit up on the screen – this one in green lines. It was only slightly larger than the blue drawing, and looked like it was projected outside and around the first man, enclosing him. ’…this one, which is the desired goal. It is possible to grow the green chart proportionally…’ He pressed another key, and the green man became taller and wider, but retained his average physique. ’… but it is also possible to click on each muscle, and redesign the way he looks.’ Smith moved the cursor, clicked on a number of individual muscles, and clicked some boxes. ’Ooops. This combination of changes would make him deformed. It is important to maintain symmetry and functionality. We have some templates approved and authorised by the Command. Let’s see…’ Smith’s fingers danced at the keyboard, and a green anatomical chart popped up on the screen. The depicted man was huge and looked dangerous. If anyone looked like that, he would probably have good chances to win a weight-lifting competition, or perhaps bodybuilding. Smith shut the machine down. ’I would prefer if we begin with the Neuro-Reprogramming Phase. If he becomes physically enhanced but without self-control, we could have a situation here. We don’t want to endanger The Project, would we?’, Gruber suggested. ’Who’s the first one in the pipeline?’ It happened to be Corporal Soares. The fit little Portuguese was briefed about the process, and told that his physical conversion wouldn’t occur, until we were sure the Neuro-Reprogramming worked correctly. He left his boots, cargo trousers and T-shirt on a bench, and took somewhat shyly off his socks and pants. On the top of the pile he put a silver pendant in a heavy chain. I noticed that the pendant depicted St. Michael the Archangel. Gruber put the neuro-helmet on his head and the breathing mask over his nose and mouth. ’Good luck! And just relax!’, László said, when Soares stepped into the sluice, and reached the cylindric chamber, built of glass and steel. ’Synthetic amniotic fluid activated’, Lamarck said, while the light blue liquid began to fill Chamber 1. ’Body temperature 37,4 Centigrades’, Green reported from the body scanner. I still feel worried and disappointed about what happened the following hour. A few minutes after Gruber had activated the Neuro-Reprogrammer, Soares screamed in agony and fear. His pulse and body temperature were abnormally high, and we had to abort the process. When Chamber 1 had become sufficiently emptied of liquid, László and Nurse Dubois entered the sluice and carried the unconscious Soares out of the Chamber, and put him on a paper-covered medical bunk, before moving him to a moveable hospital bed. László and I were shaken, but luckily Green kept his mind cold, and gave Soares a physical exam. He consulted with Gruber, but the diagnosis was outside my own field of expertise. Somehow, the reprogramming had caused Soares a comatose state, but his life wasn’t endangered. Green connected him to IV-nutrition, and Dubois wheeled the hospital bed away to Infirmary. The following day came. Morning was scheduled for interviews and medical tests as usual, but I felt worried over the afternoon experiment. Would that go wrong as well? This time it was one of the Swedes, Corporal Johansson, who sat waiting in the waiting room. Johansson was somewhat over medium height and robustly built, although not conspicuously so. His golden hair was cropped, his nose slightly upturned and his eyes sky blue. ’We will not lie to you: The Program is still in a prototype phase, and may be dangerous, although not lethal. It would be unethical to keep this information away from you.’, Green said. A worried expression came and went in Johansson’s eyes, but he answered: ’Give it a try. I was aware that the Project was experimental when I agreed to go here. Do your best. It is my duty to give you a chance to develop The Program, isn’t it?’ He left his clothes on the bench. The neuro-helmet, the IV and the breathing mask were placed where they should be, and the experiment began. The Preparation Phase for reprogramming took almost forty-five minutes. Tranquillising and analgesic formulas devised by Gospodinov and Lamarck circulated in Johansson’s blood vessels, and Gruber had modified some settings in the Neuro-Reprogrammer. This time we would try to change both the mind and the body of the test subject. ’Do you hear me, Corporal Johansson?’, Green asked into a microphone. ’Mmmm, yes… So sleepy…’, came the answer from the microphone in Johansson’s breathing mask. ’Do you feel okay?’ ’Oh, yes. Go ahead.’ ’Initiating Neuro-Reprogramming.’, Gruber reported from his corner. A low humming sound was heard in the Lab. ’Pulse increasing’, Green reported from the body scanner. We could hear how Johansson’s breathing becoming faster. ’No. No, no, no. NO!’, he shouted into the microphone. I felt uneasy. ’No, it… no, um. Umngh.’, the protests subsided and changed gradually into moaning or grunting sounds, until a sudden change in mood seemed to have occurred: ’Yes. YES! I will comply! All orders will be executed! Becoming integrated into The Program!’ ’Pulse decreasing’, Green reported. The breathing was still faster than normal. Now and then Johansson mumbled. ’Brain activity as expected’, Gruber said. Fifteen minutes later, it seemed that the neuro-reprogramming had went well this time. ’Initiating Physical Reprogramming’, Lamarck reported. ’Endocrinal stimuli working’, Gospodinov answered. ’Viral activity increasing. Nano saturation increasing’, Lamarck echoed. ’Twenty millisheldrake, and increasing.’, Smith reported from his screen. ’Hypertrophic Radiation 110% and increasing’, I answered from the screen in my part of the Lab. The hypertrophic radiation (although invisible when projected in gas, vacuum and most liquids) became visible when it was projected into the specially devised synthetic amniotic fluid together with the Morphogenetic Fields. Slowly we increased the stimuli. After a while it was obvious for the naked eye that Johansson had become visibly more muscular, but suddenly something went wrong: ’No! This is not my body! Where has my body gone? I can’t move my legs! I can’t feel my arms!’ The frightened screams increased, then suddenly fell silent. Gruber reported that the specimen had become comatose. The events from yesterday repeated themselves, and the setbacks took their toll in most of us. Their upbringing helped Smith and Lamarck to keep up a polite and neutral facade, but unlike the unperturbed Gruber, they seemed anyhow to feel concern for Soares and Johansson. The rest of us were unable to hide our feelings of worry, concern and guilt. I had honestly believed that the safety level of The Program’s each component was higher than this. What had we done to these young men? The next morning, it was impossible to keep what had happened a secret. Major Murphy told the recruits during breakfast that Soares and Johansson were unconscious in Infirmary. Someone called Gruber ’Doctor Frankenstein’, and someone threw a paper cup in the back of Smith’s head. László was avoided by his training buddies at the gym. Corporal Kowalski stared accusingly on me without a word. The mood at the Facility deteriorated. The ginger haired Lieutenant Jones complained over how László had planned the meals: ’Yuh’ll be kidding me! No bloody jipper ter the veggies?’ We cancelled any scheduled afternoon experiments, and went through all readings and notes again and again.Gruber asked all of us in the scientific team to record our brainwave patterns, in the presumption that we all had ’healthy brainwave patterns’, whatever that meant. *** I went to bed early, but couldn’t sleep, since Lamarck and Gospodinov were drinking wine in the neighbouring room. I drifted into the Lab again. It must have been after midnight, but Gruber worked late. I heard him talk into a microphone in a way which reminded me of relaxation sound files a friend of mine had used: ’You will be in perfect control of your body. You will be in perfect control of the abilities you have achieved by integrating into The Program, regardless of how much your physical form changes. You feel calm and relaxed. Your physical performance will be enhanced. It feels good to enhance your physical performance. You are in perfect control. You are perfectly present in your body. Everything will be fine. You will obey The Program. You will integrate everyone attuneable into The Program. You will obey the direction to protect the military unit and all civilians. You will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of yourself and of The Program. No-one will be permitted to abolish or limit the aim of The Program. You will attune perfectly. You will become enhanced. You will become augmented according to plan.’ Gruber pressed a button. A metallic voice answered: Vocal instruction translation into brainwaives initiated executed and accomplished The recording translated from speech into a brainwave pattern visible at one of the screens. Gruber pressed some other keys on the keyboard. A pattern labeled ’Smith’ flashed on the screen and was mixed with the first pattern. A pattern labeled ’László’ was glimpsed for a moment, until Gruber mixed it with the other two. I left the Lab, since I wanted to be alone. Somehow, I drifted into the Infirmary. It was Nurse Dubois who served at nightshift. A single lamp was lit close to Soares’ bed, in the light of which a silver pendant glinted on the bedside table. A plastic bag with nutrition hang from a stand, connected to Soares’ IV with a thin plastic tube. He wasn’t alone. Kowalski sat on a chair, looking sadly on Soares. I felt my bad conscience return, and I left the Infirmary silently. Since I was an Agnostic and a non-practicing member of Church of NorwayI hadn’t felt any reason to peek into the Meditation Room before, but I did it now. First, it lay in complete darkness, but a dim point, turning out to be a LED, guided me to the graded switch. At 50%, the grey ovoid concrete room rested in a soft and calming illumination. The floor consisted of polished stone. No images were to be seen. No chairs, but concrete benches fixed to the wall and surrounding a moderately large open space. Right. Le Corbusier meets IKEA. Ceiling-high cabinets were folded into the wall at some places, alternating with the grey concrete. In one part of the room, close to the entrance, the cabinet doors were made in dark oak, but gave place to several shades of gradually lighter brown woods in the middle, and with fir panels at the opposite end. ’Obvious committee work’, I thought. ’The British and the Greek had probably voted for oak, and the Norwegians and Swedes voted for fir. But the architect solved the problem tastefully. Probably someone from France or Switzerland.’ I continued to explore the room. In one cabinet I found bookshelves: The Christian Bible in thirty languages. Three books with the title ’Chumash’, which turned out to be the Hebrew Bible with translations into English, German and French. Six translations of the Koran in several languages. A highly decorated book in Greek, which I couldn’t read, and two similar ones in two eastern European languages I couldn’t identify. A German book called ’Gotteslob’. A number of booklets with latin text and several vernaculars in parallel columns. A handful of small A6-booklets in bright colours announcing: A Common Eucharist and Evening Prayer: As agreed upon by the member churches of the Porvoo Communion. A handful of similar booklets in duller – or perhaps more serious – colours with the title: Gottesdienst in Kriegszeiten. Ein Leuenberger Agenda für EKD, SEK, FEPS und GEKE 2021. Bhagavadgita in English, German and French. A slightly damp-damaged booklet with the title Sandhya Vandanam. Samyutta Nikaya – what on earth is that? Oh – Buddhism in English translation. The Lotus sutra. Platform sutra. Guru Granth Sahib – hmm… Oh – Sikhism! Dawkins: The God delusion with a sticker: ’Donated by the National Secular Society’. Russell: Wisdom of the West. Oh, there seem to be something for everyone here! Someone has been thinking. We didn’t have any permanently stationed chaplain at the Research Facility, since the stay was – hopefully – expected to be short, but preparations had been made to facilitate devotions according to several religious beliefs or non-beliefs. I riffled absentmindedly through the pages of Bhagvadgita. I wasn’t Hindu, and only knew it by name: ’Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ Not uplifting, but hadn’t I heard these words before? Read somewhere… No. I couldn’t remember. Another cabinet contained a number of prayer shawls, two types of chalices for Eucharist, and a number of foldable carpets. As a matter of fact, a few of the uppermost carpets were folded slightly more carelessly than the lower ones, so probably they had been used more recently. A timer. A Byzantine icon of Christ folded in protective velvet, and a copy of Our Lady of Czestochowa, similarly contained. An electric fake candle. A lighter. Batteries. A crock filled with sand. A cylindric aluminium box marked ’Spaghetti’. Spaghetti? I opened the box, and a scent of sweet wood of some sort greeted my nose: It contained incense sticks, which reminded me of the habits of a former girlfriend. Most of the space in that cabinet was, however, consumed by small foldable meditation benches in different sizes. When I observed the polished stone floor, I became aware of a very subdued mosaïque, which informed the directions of East, Mecca, and North. Why North? I was puzzled. Both the southern wall and the northern were equipped with handles in waist height, which made me curious, but it turned out to be two foldable altars. Why two? Whatever belief anyone had – or not – the room was soothing, at least when the cabinets were closed and the altars folded back to the walls. I sat there in the stillness for more than twenty minutes, until I returned to my bed. *** It was afternoon again. Lamarck and Gospodinov had been unusually silent and gloomy in the morning, and didn’t melt until lunch, when they had consumed unusually large amounts of mineral water and buttered bread. Smith and Green absent-mindedly looked through their notes again, and László emitted whiffs of Lynx. ’Nice Einstein hair-do, Gospodinov!’, was the first words, when Lieutenant Jones entered the Lab. Jones, it had come out during the interview almost a week earlier, had a long time background in SAS, and was divorced. During childhood he had moved around frequently with his divorced mother between several places in the north: Liverpool, Manchester, Blackpool, Wigan, Bradford, Newcastle… – a litany of place names. His head was covered in a red haired buzzcut, and his ears were more protruding than in an average person. He was of pink composure, and built like a human version of a pitbull terrier. His military tattoos made him look perilous, but towards the scientific team he behaved protectively and irreverently in a humorous and good-natured way. It seemed that László and Jones had bonded well at the Gym already, and that helped to make Jones cooperative, despite of the sour mood in the Mess Hall. ’Ah dinna thought tha’ the avvy would come so suuhn. After wha’ ’appened ter Soares and Johansson, we all feel a li’l bi’ worried abuht the effects, out there. Wharryl ’appen ter us inside the Magic Boxes?’ Smith and Green seemed to understand Jones’ argot well enough to answer him, but for me, who was only familiar with schoolbook English and TV-programmes from BBC sent by Norwegian broadcasters, Jones was incomprehensible. The elderly scientists also seemed to be confused by Jones’ version of English. Smith explained: ’The Program is still in a prototype stage, but we believe that we may have fixed the bug now. If you two react well, and we have reasons to believe you will, the readings from your transformations will probably help us wake Soares and Johansson from their unconscious states.’ Corporal Bjarnarsson had stood silent near the doorway from the waiting room, looming. He was a twenty-seven year old giant of a man, with a past in strongman-contests. ’Ah. Corporal Bjarnarsson! For you the Procedure will probably cause less strain. The change will be lesser in extent, since you are in such a good shape already.’ For a millisecond Jones eyed Bjarnarsson somewhat enviously, but then changed back to his usual irreverent humorous chattiness. László took their measures, as befitted their coach. Curious, I peeked over László’s shoulder in order to see the Pad connected to The Program: Ltn. Jones: Weight: 95 kilogrammes Height: 186 centimetres Chest: 115 centimetres Waist: 91 centimetres Arm: 40 centimetres Thighs: 66 centimetres Cpl. Bjarnarsson: Weight: 156 kilogrammes Height: 199 centimetres Chest: 160 centimetres Waist: 104 centimetres Arm: 60 centimetres Thighs: [AWAITING DATA] ’When Ah was rather nuw in the Service, abuht fifteen years ago, or thereabuht, me an’ me mates went ter cinema an’ watched th’film ”Captain America”. ’s like being in the middle uvv something similar ’ere, innit. Please duhnt knock me uuht like yuh did ter Corporal Soares an’ Corporal Johansson.’ Jones continued to talk while the IV, the neuro-helmet and the mask were placed on him and Bjarnarsson. Bjarnarsson was reticently silent. Then they moved into the sluices and the Chambers. ’Tranquillisers and analgesics distributed.’, said Gospodinov, looking at a monitor governing the IV. ’Forty millisheldrake, and increasing.’, Smith reported from his screen. ’Hypertrophic Radiation 125%, and increasing’, I reported. ’Endorphins activated. Myostatine blockers activated. Testosterone production rising. Oestrogen moderated. Adrenalin moderated. Kortisol moderated. Somatropin level rising.’, Gospodinov said. ’Viro-treatment active. Saturation level of nano-particles increasing’, Lamarck echoed. Something looking like ghostly flames in a strange golden hue flared and filled the entire cylinders, surrounding Bjarnarsson and Jones. Something looking like electric bolts (although we knew they didn’t have anything to do with electrons) hit the defenceless bodies of the two test subjects. Gruber attended their Neuro-Reprogramming. It went well this time, but it was too soon to triumph and feel relief. Soon both bellowed lustfully their acceptance of, and obedience to, The Program, and the Competence Programming was encoded into their brains. Meanwhile, the analgesics, the endocrine treatment and the DNA-altering formulas circulated in their bodies, preparing the way for the upcoming Physical Reprogramming Phase. They fell into oblivion for a while, when their bone tissue adapted with an ugly scraping sound. They regained consciousness. Their breathing became heavier. They clenched their fists. Their shoulders and legs tensed. Their manhoods awakened. An eerie pulse of force caused their muscles to tense and relax, tense and relax… A change occurred in Bjarnarsson. The already very huge man didn’t become taller, but his body composition went from big-bellied to what my student-day gym-buddies would have called ’ripped’. Any unnecessary body fat was burned away by the altered metabolism induced by The Program, and Bjarnarsson’s already well-developed muscled swelled. The changes of Jones were much more tremendous. When he entered the Chamber, he was padded of tight but undefined muscles like an overstuffed Chesterfield, but now his brawn was growing, and when body fat burned away, his muscles became visible like protruding spheres and bicones of terrifying strength. ’Uh, uh! Ah! Oh, it’s so fuckin’ unbelievable! It’s so friggin’ brilliant, innit! Duh yuh hear me ouht there? … Oh yes! Really ace! All hard flesh… meatier… Am beefing up! … the feeling! It’s… oh, OH! Am connected to this amazing power surge, nnnn, mmmm, aah! Charging me! Powerload! Powercharge! POWERHOUSE! Um! Nnng! Ah! Yes, yes! Yes! Um! Nnngh, nnngh, AH!’ We lost verbal communication from Jones, since his words devolved into incomprehensible excited moans and grunts. His body was not easy to see by now, since the golden shimmer from the rays enfolded him, but, from what could be visibly observed and from the growing blue digital chart of his body, his physique quickly adapted to the extreme ideal of the green digital chart of the Field. In the other Chamber, Bjarnarsson emitted similar noises as Jones. A pulsating pump raged in every muscle of Jones’, but, unlike pump at the gym, this actually increased his muscle tissue here and now. His back muscles contracted, relaxed, hardened and swelled. Incredible back muscles protruded increasingly, forming a map of valleys and ridges. His lats broadened. His glutes formed into globes, and then globes indented, forming ’C:s’ patterned like spruces. His shoulders became boulders. His neck filled out into steel wires plaited into cords, forming an uncrushable bull neck. His calves became insane rugby balls of rock, defined by a valley into twin ridges. Both the front and the back of his thighs swelled into jaw-dropping vein-ridden monuments of masculine might. Deeply defined abs formed an unconquerable brick-wall of warm flesh, and his chest was composed of two expanding shields of engorged bulbous brawn, radiating of vigour. Under the influence of the treatment his vein-patterned triceps, biceps and forearms, fortified by hypertrophic power, were ever hardening, bulging and toughening. When The Program reached its culmination both test subjects shouted in hypertrophic bliss, bellowed in anabolic ecstasy, and roared in testosterone-fuelled power-craze. Green noticed that both specimens ejaculated. He looked at Gospodinov, who answered: ’Probably a side effect of the extremely heightened testosterone-production. The nurses have to clean the Chambers before next experiment.’ Nurse Fischer looked up from his notes with a disgusted expression. For a few seconds both test subjects passed out, and for a while we were all very worried that our failures would repeat, but Jones and Bjarnarsson soon regained consciousness, while the fluid receded. As soon as possible, László and Nurse Fischer opened the sluice doors and helped the subjects out. They actually could walk by themselves, but seemed elated and dizzy-headed. While they used their towels, we could notice that they transpired a lot of sweat. Worried, Smith asked: ’How do you feel?’ ’Ah feel really boss, nuw. Gobsmacked, really. Yuh duhn’t have ter worry abuht me, Doc. Am really made up. Feeling buff as hell. Wha’ stonking arms!’, and, eyeing his new complection he added: ’An’ its the first time Ah got a real bronzee, mate. At vacation in Ibiza and Lanzarote, Ah uhnly got pink, scolded and peeling. Dis’s unusual. But Ah can’t stan’ ’ere starkers all day. Yuh said something abuht a nuw sorta uniform?’ Calmly, Bjarnarsson said something about feeling fine. Green took measures of Bjarnarsson, while Smith took the measures of Jones,in order to assure that the data on the screen were correct: ’Oh by Jove!’ Ltn. Jones: Weight: 180 kilogrammes Height: 200 centimetres Chest: 188 centimetres Waist: 97 centimetres Arm: 76 centimetres Thighs: 96 centimetres While László was ransacking the Inventory for the new prototype uniform, Smith explained: ’The prototype uniform was engineered for several reasons. Since a traditional uniform would probably risk to either fray or to be a chunky inconvenience in action, something adaptable and stretchable was needed. Since the PCETOs seemingly use IR-perception as their primary sense, it was important to use a fabric which conducts excessive body heat in an unnoticeable way, while still warm enough. A new way of arranging carbon atoms has been demonstrated to hold the capacity to protect from projectiles and edged weapons. Since some of your future operations probably will take place in space, the uniform had to be easily used in combination with conventional space suits and the new prototype space armour. The same material is actually used in the tarpaulins at the Outer Perimeter, in order to camouflage the wood fires.’ László returned from the Inventory with a number of items of clothing. I hadn’t seen the new uniform myself, so I was as astonished as the recruits themselves. The stuff was black and glossy, with no hints of spun threads. Most of all it had a sort of leathery surface, but it had pliable qualities, and formed after the wearer. ’Dis pura kecks is tuh tight. Du yuh ’ave any larger pair uvvem? A’ve no’ any sparrer legs, anymore. Lewk at these ’amstrings an’ calves!’ László had a broad grin on his face, and handed over a larger pair of uniform trousers. It turned out that size 11 boots were too small, and we all waited while Jones tied the bootlaces of his size 12 army boots. When Jones and Bjarnarsson had dressed, we inspected the results. The uniforms looked painted on them, but, regardless of this, there seemed to be no risk of fraying or rips at the seams. The black, glossy and leathery material cling in a snug-fitting way to their enormous shoulders and pecs, saliently enhancing the presence of the shoulder straps with insignia and the breast pockets – the short sleeves leaving the forearms bare. The shirt buttons were designed to be non-obstructive and easy to button. The trousers were snug around the calves, but were tailored like cargo-trousers around the thighs, in order to facilitate the typically useful pockets. The trousers were reinforced over the groin, in a way bringing anti-riot equipment to mind. The belt buckle was adorned with the heraldic crest of this prototype Company. There was something vaguely intimidating to the rather high bootlegs, but, despite being advanced in ways which went over my head, the boots looked like typical military boots designed for practical usefulness rather than looks. They were smoothly polished, but with the new material the entire uniforms had the look of being polished by military standard shoe polish. The results were stunning. The uniforms didn’t hide their muscular physiques, but revealed and highlighted them. It felt somewhat unsettling to be in the presence of the uniformed and huge recruits. ’Yuh ’aven’t given ed a thought to take a trip into the Magic Boxes yerself, Doc? It luuk like yuh could ’ave use fer ed, eh? An’ yuh, Coach? Yuh would certainly like ed. Mooch be’er than slapping the monkey.’ Smith looked away with an embarrassed expression. His ears and cheeks were purple. Green interrupted: ’You will need some rest in the Infirmary. Later tonight or early tomorrow we will go to the gym and measure how your performance has increased.’ When Jones and Bjarnarsson had left for observation in Infirmary, Smith commented our conversation with Jones: ’There is something you mainland Europeans don’t understand: That UK is a kingdom divided by a common language.’ Chapter Two is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6609-project-defender-–-chapter-two/