Cyclist, The


By Corwin

Dinner was wonderful. We talked about our lives and began to get to know each other. Mark talked about his research, I talked about computers. We both loved movies and plays, gardening and spending quiet nights at home watching TV. We were both liberals and had a political bent. We both loved muscle. We agreed to take it slow, but were drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. When I wasn't with Mark, I wanted to call him. As I would reach to the phone, it would ring and it would be him. If I did call first, he would say he was thinking of me. We were happy together.

Mark continued to grow and get stronger. I learned that the procedure involved 25 shots, one a week for about six months. The shots were given in a muscle. Three times a day, Mark would drink a specially formulated protein powder that interacted with the drugs in the shot. The interaction made incremental changes to Mark's DNA allowing him to get bigger and stronger. Mark's body changed from that of an athlete to an amateur bodybuilder by the end of May. He expected to be as big as a pro, or bigger, by the time the treatments were done.

We spent the next weekend together, and Mark showed me how it was done. He had a syringe of clear liquid, and he gave himself a shot in his thigh. "Now, I wait an hour, then drink a shake. That's it. Wanna do me a favor while we wait?"

"More sex?" I jokingly moaned. Mark's sexual appetite was more veracious than mine.

"Well, that too, but," he said, pulling out a notebook, "measure me first. Like all the subjects in this experiment, I need to keep notes."

First, I measured his upper arm. He flexed it, and I wrapped the tape measure around the highest point. I recorded 19 1/4 in the book. I couldn't help but notice the other measurements. Mark's bicep started out at 12 inches. In the first week it shrank to 11 1/4, then it grew. 13 inches in the first month; 15 in the second; 17 in the third, and now over 19 in the fourth. At this rate, his arms will be close to 24 inches cold when he's through with the treatment.

His chest was growing just as quickly as his arms. He started with 41 inches, that toned to 39 then grew to 43, 46, 50, 54 and now 59 inches cold. At the same time his waist was shrinking from 36 inches to its current rock hard 30.

His 30 inch quads had once only been 21, and his 18 inch calves had been 12. My dick got hard just thinking about Mark's growth from geek to stud.

Mark and I spent more and more time together. His lease was up in June, and we decided we should try living together. He moved in over Memorial Day weekend. I can't remember being more happy. Mark and I would stroll around the neighborhood, shop and work out at his gym. I guess that's how we drew attention to ourselves. It was obvious we were a couple.

The incident occurred as I was returning from the store about 10 o'clock at night. We needed milk, and I decided to run out before going to bed. I didn't notice the group of kids hanging out on the corner, or I didn't care. They had never given me any trouble before.

As I walked up to the house, I heard one say, "Fucking faggot!" and I felt something hard hit the back of my legs. I fell to the ground and my glasses went flying. I felt something hit me across the back.

Next, I heard a thud, followed by Mark screaming, "Leave him alone." I looked up and saw a blur of Mark. He was holding a baseball bat in one hand, and one of the kids in the other. The kids feet weren't touching the ground. A few of the other kids began to rush toward him, but Mark tossed the punk he was holding hard enough to knock a couple of them down. I found my glasses and saw Mark holding the bat horizontally, one hand on the top and one on the bottom. "Get out of here now, or this is what I'll do to you." I saw his bare chest flex and his massive ripped muscle pump, then his tris exploded into their hardened horseshoe shape as he applied pressure to the wooden bat. There was a slight popping as the wood began to yield to Mark's strength, then a thunderous crack as the bat broken in two. "This will be you if you ever try anything again," Mark screamed. The kids ran away.

Mark tossed the bat aside and ran to me. There was blood running down my leg. He tried to straighten my glasses. My vision was blurry, but I could see a big hole in my knee with a white thing inside. "I think we should get you to the emergency room," he said.

Two hours and three stitches later, we returned home. Mark seemed more shaken up than I was. He talked about his feelings the next day.

"I was looking out the window when I saw those punks attack you. I don't remember ever being that afraid for someone else. I was so angry at them and worried about you. I didn't like feeling that way. I love you, and I can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you," he said.

"I didn't like being attacked," I joked, trying to calm him with humor and my smile.

"This isn't funny," he said. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I just found something that makes me feel complete. You're my soulmate and I don't want to loose you." A tear ran down his cheek.

I stepped over to him and hugged him. I kissed the tear away. "You won't loose me. I'm not going anywhere."

"But I may not be around next time." He pulled away and walked over to his back pack. He pulled out a syringe. "I want you to start the treatment." We had talked about it before, and I had to admit I was interested, but Mark was concerned about the risks to me. I think he was also worried I might leave him.

"Are you sure, Mark? I know that you've had doubts."

"I was being selfish. But, after last night, well, I'd rather be selfish in protecting you than selfish in any other fears I have." I started the treatments that night. Mark got out his book and recorded my size. He measured my arm at 18 1/8 inches, my 45 inch chest, my 26 inch thigh, 18 inch calf and 29 inch waist.

Mark could not have prepared me for what the shot felt like. It burned at first, and as it was absorbed by my system, I felt every muscle cramp. Over that first hour, it felt like each muscle had been pushed beyond its endurance, and I couldn't move without the pain I'd only experienced after an intense workout in the gym. Mark brought me the first shake. It tasted like honey -- something my body needed. I swallowed it all without putting the glass down once. About 20 minutes later, I felt more like myself. Within an hour, I felt better than I had in a long time.

Over that first week, my body began to change. I had 8% body fat, which dropped to 6 in the first few days. I began eating like a horse. Of course, I still biked, but I noticed that my commute time was getting shorter and shorter. I increased the distance to 50 miles a day, then 75 by the end of the week. I was doing the longer distance 15 minutes faster than my best time the week before.

Mark measured me before my second shot. I had gained 10 pounds. My waist was 28 1/2 inches, but my chest was now 46. I had gained an inch on both arms, but my legs gained 2 inches. "That's what biking will get ya," I said with a smile.

The second shot electified me. I felt powerful, and each shake supercharged that feeling. The next day I biked 100 miles in 2 hours. I was keeping up with some of the slower cars on a freeway that paralleled my favorite trail. The speed was a rush, but Mark warned, "Don't show off too much. The world isn't ready for a Steve Austin." Of course, I didn't listen to him. I had to modify my bike to deal with my strength and speed. Bikes just aren't built to go several hundred miles per hour. I found rodes with little or no traffic, and used a local velodrome late at night. If people saw me, what could they say? 'and then this biker passed me doing 150?' Ya, like someone would believe that.

By the end of June, I had a 50 inch chest and 22 inch arms. My legs were an amazing 33 inches of pure power. Talk about speed. When I cut loose, I could alsmost feel the bike want to leave the ground.

My clothes were getting tighter. I had to wear a suit to the office one day. I put the sport coat on. It was a heavy wool, but I ripped the back in half when I accidently flexed. The same thing happened to the sleeves when I tried to take it off. My muscles were just too big and hard for the fabric to contain. "Fuck it!" I thought as I grabbed the material and ripped it off my body. It tore like paper. Mark had to loan me down one of his coats. "It may be a little big, but you'll grow into it," he said with a smile.

By mid-July Mark was finished with his treatment. He was huge, with muscular mass and symmetry that dwarfed most body builders. His chest was 72 inches of pure muscle. His pecs hung 7 inches over his ripped 8-pack waist that was a mere 30 inches. His pecs were so round that his nipples pointed toward the ground and they made a shelf from his collar bone. His lats formed a perfect V, and his pits were caves where I could bury my face during our steamy sex. His traps were huge mounds that swallowed most of his bull neck. His thighs were a massive 40 inches, and his diamond calves were 24. His arms had grown to an amazing 26 3/4 inches of rock hard muscle. All Mark would say was, "Hmmmm, more than I expected," as he felt the hardness and size of his peak.

Eventhough he was huge, Mark was stronger than he looked. After the baseball bat incident, we tested his strength in other ways. Bending a crowbar was like forming clay. He crushed solid steel bearings in his grip. While moving a multi-ton boulder was difficult one week, the next it was no problem. He even pulled a steam locamotive down the tracks in a railway yard, getting up to a good run then stopping it on a dime. That must have confused the workers the next day!

"Damn, you're the strongest man around," I whispered to him after he crushed a disgarded car engine into a sphere.

"Third strongest, actually. A couple of the football players from last season have heavier lifts than me. But, I'm strong enough," he said. I was afraid to ask for more specifics.

During our frequent sexual encounters, Mark would flex and I would be awed by his hard body. His size was a major turn on, as was his strength, but I couldn't help notice that I was gaining on him. We would play-wrestle, and he would overpower me as if I were a child.

It was one evening in August that I realized that would soon change. We were naked, admiring our muscles and testing our strength. I guess I should say that Mark was testing my strength, since he was so much stronger. He let me pin him, wrapping my thighs around his arms and torso. I locked my legs, which were now nearly as big as his at 38 inches. Up til now, he would simply flex his mighty chest and pull my legs apart. This time, however, he was struggling. I felt his body tighten and push against me, but my legs were containing his power. He began to sweat at the exertion, and with a sudden 'Argh' managed to break my leg hold. But, it was hard for him! Of course he pinned me a moment later and had his way with me, but that was the first time I really realized that soon, I would be his equal, or more. •

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