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|Ken walked into the lab. "Yo, Doc? Petrowski?" No one answered.
"Shee-it," he said, entering the lab and closing the door behind him.
He looked around, tossing his gym bag on the floor in the corner.
Even though he had first seen this room only four weeks before, it was
familiar to him now. He walked over to a mirror and grinned at the
man looking back at him. "Fucking huge!" he said.
One month ago he wore shirts that were sized large. Today, those same shirts were far too tight for him. He flexed his pecs, bouncing them inside his quad-XL shirt. His grin became more evil. He turned, looking at the chart on the wall that showed the rapid changes in his body. He started with 19 3/4 inch arms. Before the second treatment, they measured a little over 21. Before the third, they were close to 28. He raised his arm, flexing his bi. "35" he said, admiring the muscle. The massive bulge in his pants began to grow.
He turned toward a tape player. He had left his posing tape ready to be played. He flipped it on. Immediately, the word "Body!" stormed from the speakers. Ken began to strut to the beat of Funky Green Dogs. Everytime the word "body" was sang, he would strike another pose -- single bicep, double bi, a rear lat spread that almost ripped his shirt, side chest that made the t-shirt tent over his massive pecs.
The beat slowed. As the tape played, "Oooo, I only live for satisfying you...", Ken began to lift his shirt, revealing rock hard abs totally exposed -- no body fat at all. The abs formed a perfect ridges, a triangle that descended into his skin-tight blue jeans. Ken's expression changed to surprise as the singer sang "No other man can the things you do, ...". Ken lowered his shirt and strut to the left as far as he could go and still see himself in the mirror. When the singer sang, "I have always been the type of girl who tried to get to a man for his mind, oo baby," he slowly pulled down on the neck of his shirt, showing the deep ridge between two massive pecs. As the singer finished, "it's your body" he ripped the shirt in two, revealing his massive torso and throwing the shirt toward his imaginary audience. As he performed, he bounced his pecs and struck poses that displayed his massive arms, thick pecs, cobblestone abs, B2 Bomber lats, and his mountainous traps. Ken never took his eyes off the mirror, his mind evaluating every pose. He watched as his body flowed smoothly from flex to flex, pose to pose in time with the music.
As the second stanza began, Ken shifted the focus of his routine from his torso to his legs. He moved his hands to the top button of his jeans and popped it. He also took the opportunity to free his massive cock that was fighting to be free. The thick organ snaked up against his abs, past his naval nearly to the bottom of his pecs. Next, he flexed his lats and extended his right leg, flexing it hard. The incredible size and hardness of his legs were no match for the denim, which burst from the incredible pressure of his expanding muscle. Once again, Ken feigned a surprised expression, then duplicated the pose with his left leg. He lowered the zipper of his pants, giving his imaginary audience a view of his slate-hard lower abs. With a sudden jerk, he ripped the pants in two. To Ken, ripping the jeans was as easy as tearing tissue paper. It didn't even matter, in a few minutes they would be too small for him anyway. He tossed the tattered fabric aside and continued his routine. He heard and ignored the door open behind him.
"Ahem," said Petrowski from behind the bodybuilder.
Ken stopped posing and walked to the tape, setting it to rewind to the beginning.
"Having fun?" asked the ex-soldier.
"Bigger than fucking Mr. Olympia," said Ken. "Can't wait til I can compete again. I'll make all those pros look like skinny pencil-necks," he looked at Perkins, "no offense doc."
Perkins gave him a look.
"Hey, look at this bod! I got symmetry, hardness, and size. I'm the perfect specimen, and I'm halfway through this program of yours. With another four treatments, man, I'll be frick'n amazing!"
"Are you ready for the next treatment?" asked Perkins, walking over to a cabinet on the far side of the room.
"Been ready. You're the guys who are late," said Ken.
"Well, at least you found a way to entertain yourself," snickered Perkins.
"Hey, when you got it," said Ken.
"Hmmm, so we heard," said Perkins.
"Ya, care to tell us what happened last night?" Petrowski asked. Ken looked at the two. Petrowski had his massive arms crossed under his pecs while Perkins prepared a syringe. Ken noticed that the needles said 'titanium' on the package.
"Hey, it wasn't nothing and it wasn't my fault anyway. We were mugged," said Ken. "Well, er, I mean they tried to mug us. Five punks. Guess they thought they were tough. They had knives."
"And?" said Petrowski sternly.
Ken gave Petrowski a look of contempt. "I did to them the same thing I'd do to you. I out-muscled them." Ken bounced his pecs. He was smaller than Petrowski, but his attitude exuded pure confidence. "I was walking along, talking to my buds. I thought I heard something behind us, but I ignored it. Suddenly, I felt something on my back. It kinda felt like a mosquito or something. Anyway, I turned and heard a ripping noise and saw this runt of a kid holding a knife. The pip-squeak had ripped my shirt! I looked, and there was a scratch on my skin, but the knife, well, it scratched but that was all." Ken pointed to a little red scratch that went around the left side lat. "I guess maybe I lost it a bit. I screamed, 'What the fuck!' and grabbed the kid's hand. OK, maybe I grabbed it a bit hard. I didn't mean to crush the bone, but I got him to drop the knife. I held him while I picked it up. 'You think this tinkertoy can hurt ME!' I took the knife and flexed my pecs. I stabbed the knife into my chest, and well, the blade buckled then shattered." Ken grinned, looking at Petrowski. "You ever break a steel knife on YOUR hard muscle, dude?"
"Never tried," said Petrowski.
"That's cause YOU can't. You know I'm way stronger than you are. I was stronger than you after my first treatment, and I just keep getting bigger and tougher. Anyway, I picked the kid up like the rag doll he was and tossed him into his buds, knocking them all down. That's about all."
"Except for the part about how they're in the hospital with a variety of broken bones and concussions," said Perkins.
"So what?" said Ken. "They started it. Ya know, I wasn't going to say anything about last night, but I'm glad you know. I guess at first, when I started this treatment, I thought I was big enough. I'm state bodybuilding champ! But after each treatment, man, it's like WOW! I can DO things now. Look at this bod. Man, I'm fucking indestructable. I'm unbeatable. I'm..."
"Superboy?" Petrowski said with a sneer.
Ken laughed. "Oh, so that's how you know. Ya, that's what the guys are calling me. Faster than a speeding bullet. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Not a prob for me. Now. And anyway, I'm way better looking than a comic book hero." Ken flashed his pearly white teeth, knowing that he had the looks of a male supermodel. "Besides, Superboy had black hair."
Petrowski reached into his pocket and pulled out a computer disk. "Think you're tough, huh?"
"Just Jonny 'The Weed' Romero's last workout. Swiped it from the gym yesterday when no one was looking. Think you're tough enough to beat him."
Ken's eyes widened. "Doc, give me those shots and I'll show you how easy it will be for me to wipe up the football field with that wimp. In a few weeks, I'll be as big or bigger than that show off, and way stronger."
Perkins walked over. Ken relaxed his muscles. Perkins tried to put the needle into Ken's thigh, but couldn't. Ken took the needle and with slow deliberate force, pushed it into his muscle, emptying the contents. A minute later, lying on the ground, he injected himself with the second shot. The seizure came upon him like an earthquake. The building shook and Ken writhed on the ground, his muscles pounding the structure, cracking the floor. After what seemed like an eternity, it stopped. Like each time before, his muscles were slightly smaller, but more defined.
"Let's get to the gym and see how strong I am NOW," he said. His voice seemed a bit deeper. Ken grabbed a pair of shorts and put them on and walked toward the door. He turned, and saw Petrowski talking to Perkins. "You com'n?"
"Be there in a sec. Wanna ask the doc something," said Petrowski.
Ken walked into the hall.
"Doc, the kid is startin to scare me. He's right. He's so strong now that I couldn't control him if I wanted. Think we should cut the experiment short?" asked Petrowski.
The doctor looked down. "I can't. You don't know the pressure I'm under. The University wants to see results. They don't want just to beat City at football, they want to destroy them."
"The kids probably strong enough to do that now."
"Maybe, but I've been told to go all the way. If the experiment is successful with Ken, they want to recruit others."
"Ya. I figured that's what they want. One guy is never enough. They always want more. Well, I shouldn't keep the kid waiting."
Outside the door, Ken moved down the hall, muttering to himself. "No way man. I got the power and I want more. No one else will get a bod like this. I'll see to that."
Petrowski came out and saw Ken walking away. "Ready big guy?"
"Born that way."
The two walked to the special gym built to test Ken's ever increasing strength. Petrowski noticed that Ken's body seemed to be filling out as he walked. He'd noticed this before. After the shot, Ken's muscles seemed to compress, becoming denser. Then for the next few days, Ken grew new muscle becoming bigger and stronger. Perkins tried to explain that Ken had some unique genetics that interacted with the formula, enhancing its effects. The doctor was studying this effect and hoped to reproduce it soon.
"So, where do we start?" asked Petrowski when they got to the gym.
"You got squats on that disk?" asked Ken. "Today's a leg day."
"Sure. Got everything." Petrowski walked to a computerized hydraulic squat rack and put in the disk. He entered a code. Ken went to a bar and began to stretch out his legs. The massive hard muscles pulled at his skin as they loosened up, ready for a massive pump. After a minute, Petrowski called, "Ready when you are."
Ken walked over to the bar and positioned himself. With little effort, he raised the bar, then slowly lowered it, his butt touching the ground before he purposefully lifted it up. He did a second, then third, continuing for twenty reps. He put the bar back. Ken hadn't broken a sweat.
"Seems real light. Are you sure that thing is working?"
"Think so. Says here that The Weed can do five of at this weight."
"I think that thing is busted," said Ken. "You give it a try."
Petrowski shrugged. He walked to the bar and positioned himself under it. He pressed up, his legs flexing with pure power. Petrowski's face turned red as he willed the bar up, but it wouldn't move. He screamed and applying all his strength was able to slowly stand upright. Petrowski could feel the blood rushing in his body. He felt hot and sweat poured down his face as he tried to remain in control while lowering the bar. The weight was crushing, forcing his huge body down. He got his legs parallel with the floor and had to stop. He tried to force the weight up, but felt his strength failing. He was being crushed by the weight. He screamed, demanding more strength from his powerful body, but the weight was too much. "Can't do it. Help!" he cried to Ken. Ken walked behind him and with his arms lifted the weight up.
"Whoa man! Guess this thing is working. Damn!" The handsome youth was grinning from ear to ear. With the bar in his arms, he began to curl it. He did eight reps with perfect form before putting the bar back. "And the guy does this weight for squats? Five reps! Man, this isn't a weight for legs, it's a weight for arms." Ken flexes a powerful bicep. "THESE ARMS." Ken raised his other arm into a double bicep. Two mountainous arms flexed high and powerful. "These guns are stronger than that wimp's legs! Can you imagine how much stronger I'm gonna be after a few more treatments. Man, I'm gonna destroy that weakling Romero!"
Ken walked over to Petrowski and pushed him aside. "Out of my way weakling. I wanna pump some real iron and grow this body. You better stand aside and watch what a real bodybuilder's workout is like."
Ken ordered the machine to increase the resistance by a factor of ten and began to work his leg muscles, forcing them to grow bigger and stronger.
Across town at City University, Jonny Romero was entering his advisor's office. "Mark, you got a sec?"
Mark looked up from his computer. "Sure, just reading some e-mail."
"I think I've made some progress on the simulation." He had gotten Mark's attention. "I think I've figured out why our formula and the other one are antagonists. Each formula is affecting a different part of the cell. When the two combine, it's too much for the cellular structure and the cell atrophies and dies. I've come up with a solution, and ran some simulations and it looks promising. I was wondering if I might get a few vials of the growth enhancer to experiment with."
Mark's eyes betrayed his skepticism. Over the years, Jonny had seemed to mature, but Mark knew the stud could never have enough strength. They had tricked him once, and Mark and his friends were the only men stronger than Jonny. Mark still controlled access to the formula, and supervised Jonny's use of it.
"You aren't planning on using this on yourself," Mark asked. He knew the answer. Jonny would probably do one dose right after a fling with one of the freshman. Mark turned a blind eye to this, but it still didn't hurt to remind the kid that he was being watched.
"No way. Just for research. Honest."
Mark hesitated, then stood up, his muscular frame rivaling the star player's muscles. "OK. Will six be enough."
Mark opened a safe and pulled out a tray of the formula. He handed Jonny six vials. "Let me know how your experiments go."
"Will do. And thanks."
As Jonny left, Mark called to him. "You know, Jonny. I haven't told you recently, but I'm proud of you. You've really turned into a fine student."
Jonny looked back, smiling. "Thanks."
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