Always Respect Your Daddy

Bear wrestling


By Corwin

The junk yard was locked. A sign on the fence said, 'CLOSED' and the hours listed indicated that the last employee should have left hours ago.

Doug stepped out of the car. "Coming boys? Wanna see what you old man can do now? Or do you want to wait in the car?" Doug didn't look back for a response. He knew his two sons were awestruck with what he had become -- what he was becoming.

A chain was wrapped around two polls holding the gate closed. Doug gently tugged on the gate, noting the chain. He thought for a second. He could rip the gate off. He was sure of that, but it might attract undue attention. Doug looked at his thick hand, concentrating on his thumb and forefinger. He smiled. He held the gate with his left hand, and placed a single chain link between his thumb and forefinger. His forearm bulged a bit, and the metal seemed to melt away like clay, snapping the single link. "Wasn't even hard," he whispered to himself as he unwrapped the chain and opened the gate.

"Chris, drive the car just inside the gate. Jake, close the gate behind him, putting the chain back as best you can. I wanna look around for something BIG that will test me." The tone in Doug's voice told the boys that this was not a request.

Doug stepped into the yard. There were various disgarded cars and some other junk lying around. "Too light," thought Doug. "Maybe there's an old boxcar or maybe even a locomotive around here somewhere. Hmmm, wonder if they have a crusher," Doug thought as he took inventory.

As he walked further into the yard, Doug noticed a chemical drum from the plant where he was a security guard. There was some label on it, a chemical name that looked vaguely familiar, and the words "LOT 8". The metal can was empty.

Doug continued to look around. He passed a heap of rusting metal, and noticed a light. He heard voices. As he approached, he saw a boy about the age of his sons. He was about 6 foot 6. The kid wore only a skimpy pair of shorts. His legs were massive, and he had a thick coat of blonde hair covering pecs that looked like beachballs and a waist that rippled like an old washboard. The kid was doing one-arm bicep curls with a dumbell made from a thick pipe with two car engines on either side. A man sat beside him counting: "11, 12... Good son, now the other arm." Doug recognized the voice as Greg Wilson.

He watched the boy crank out a set of curls. When the kid hit 10, Doug walked into view. The kid stopped. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"I'm here to see your asshole pop. I have a score to settle."

"I'm the kid's Dad." said the seated figure. The man was shirtless, like his son, and Doug could only see his back. Normally, that would have been enough to intimidate him, but not now. Greg's back appeared wide, even though it was unflexed. Doug could make out masses of muscle, and distinct areas where the man's lats met his traps. And what traps! They formed huge hills that attached to two cannonball shoulders. Slowly, Greg turned to face Doug. Doug was shocked to see that Greg appeared taller than he was, at least 8 feet tall. His muscles were massive, at least as large as Doug's. While the kid's chest was massive, his father's was amazing. He had a coat of dark hair that covered his chest, stomach and arms. His tree-sized arms were folded across two watermellon sized pecs. He said, "The boy asked you a question. Who the fuck are you?"

"Doug Matthews." Doug tried to sound authoritative, but he was afraid his voice cracked. All the thoughts of Greg beating him up in high school flooded into Doug's memory as he confronted the giant in front of him.

"Who?" said Greg. "Name sounds fam... wait, are you that gimp from high school. Heh."

"I'm no gimp," said Doug. He struck a massive double bicep pose that blocked the light that was behind him.

"That suppose to do something to me?" said Greg. He struck his own double bi, his peaks a good 6 inches higher than Doug's. "Looks like you changed some since high school. So did I. Whatcha think?" taunted Greg.

Still the bully, thought Doug. "Ya, what happened to you?"

"Must be goin' on three years now. Had this accident with a chemical drum. Poured a good 3/4 of on me by accident. Passed out for a good 8 hours. When I woke, well, I got real good and strong. Grew into this. They call me The Bear. Poured the rest on the boy here. He's 310 pounds of raw power. Been training him."

Just then, Chris and Jake came into view. The stopped, staring at the massive wall of muscle that was confronting their father. They were afraid, though they didn't know whether it was because of their dad, or for their dad's safety.

"I know you two," said Brad. "Hey, just in time to see my dad make mincemeat of your pop. GO FOR IT, Dad."

Greg turned and grabbed the dumbell from his son. Holding it like a javelin, he launched it at Doug. Chris could have sworn he heard a sonic boom. Doug jumped as the projectile barely missed him and logged itself into a concrete slab behind him.

Before Doug could regain his wits, Greg was on him. He lunged at Doug, wrapping his massive legs around Doug's abs. He pinned hands to the ground. Suddenly, Greg screamed as smoke whisped from his hands. "ARGH, what's that burning?"

Doug felt nothing. Instead, he had this odd feeling, like he had had when he fell in the vat, like his body was absorbing more of the chemical. Doug felt something else, he felt stronger.

Greg strained to hold on, but he felt unnaturally weak. His legs seemed to be getting thinner as Doug was getting bigger. He jumped off Doug as fast as he could. Doug stood up and looked Greg in the eyes.

"Hmmm. Seems I know these chemicals of yours. I like them and they like me. Let me see that arm of yours again."

Greg looked mean and flexed. His arm was smaller than before. Doug flexed next to him, and his bicep was a good 12 inches bigger. Greg tried to back away, but now it was Doug's turn to wrestle Greg.

Doug was reacting on pure instinct and desire. He wanted muscle and he wanted to take it from the jerk that caused him pain. He wanted strength and he wanted to hurt Greg. He wanted Greg to know what it was to be weak.

Greg yelled with every contact Doug made. He felt his muscles shrinking, his frame thinning.

Doug wrapped his ballooning arms around Greg and got The Bear in a Bear Hug. "Come to DADDY little BEAR," Doug growled as he felt himself grow taller, become stronger and more massive. As Doug grew, Greg's leg's left the ground and Doug held the bearish man against his own massive and hairy chest. When he finally let Greg go, he was nothing more than an 8 foot skeleton with barely enough strength to stand.

"Dad!" yelled Brad and punched Doug with all he had. Brad felt the burning on his fist as Doug just laughed. Brad punched again, and Doug grabbed it. He held the fist, watching the boy's muscles deflate. He had nothing against the boy, so he let him go when he was good sized, maybe 250 pounds. "Let that be a lesson to you son," said Doug. "Don't mess with your elders."

Doug turned to the stick figure that had been his tormentor. "Greg, that's for what you did in high school. Fuck you, asshole," Doug walked away, looking for something more challenging in the junk yard. •

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