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|Jim got to the office about 8:30. He had had his staff fabricating more of Clint's muscle enhancement formula, and found a month's supply for two people on his desk waiting for him. He inspected it, and put it on the floor next to his brief case. Logging in, he saw that he had a manager's meeting at nine.
"Fuck." He hated these meetings. They really were a waste of time. Worse yet, Clint would be there. Since he had been working out, he had become interminable, going on and on about his natural gains and good genetics.
Jim was curious. What had Clint written in his journal since Jen stole a copy and had given it to him. Jim had resisted the temptation to access Clint's computer, but now his curiousity got the better of him. He clicked on PharmTech's network, found Clint's machine and typed in the password that Jen had included. He was in.
What he saw didn't give him much comfort. Clint reported that his progress was accelerating. He had developed a computer model of how the drug was interacting with his muscle tissue and body chemistry, and it indicated that his muscles were becoming supersaturated with the enhancer. Even the slightest exertion triggered muscle growth, giving Clint increased size and power.
Jim copied the simulation to his machine. Clint might be making great progress, but he wanted to see what the model predicted for him and Mark. He immediately got to work putting in the parameters. When the computer interrupted, warning that the meeting was starting in 15 minutes, he snoozed it. When it interrupted again 3 minutes before the meeting, he dismissed the annoying message and kept working. Finishing quickly, he started the simulation and ran to the meeting, getting there five minutes late.
He entered as Clint was talking about his latest problem. "I got this shirt two weeks ago because it was a loose fit, and now look at it." He raised his arm, the bicep stretching the fabric near the tearing point. "That's the problem with this bodybuilding stuff -- my clothes budget is bankrupting me," he said with a chuckle. Clint flexed causing the shirt to pull apart at the seems under his arms. "There it goes."
"Sorry I'm late," Jim interrupted, hoping that he was the cause for the delay in getting down to the dry topic of production schedules and research results.
"Oh, don't worry about it," said Jen. "I was just commenting on Clint's wardrobe."
"Or his muscles," said Janice, one of the other managers.
"Hey, come on," said Clint, "Jim here knows all about muscles. He's got a pretty good body. Jim, if you ever need to buy new clothes, I can sell you some of the stuff I've outgrown. They'll still fit a little guy like you."
Jim snarled a "thanks", and people in the room laughed.
"Hey, I'll be in the gym later, if you want to catch a workout together," Clint said as a feigned apology.
"Sure, I might just surprise you," said Jim.
"Well, enough of this, let's start so we can get some work done," said the vice president for research.
Jim thought the meeting lasted too long. He amused himself by doodling, but also watching the subtle body language between Jen and Clint. Jen's attention seemed to shift between Jim and Clint, as if she were trying to size them up. She knew that Jim was now taking the formula too. Was she noticing his progress?
When the meeting finished, Jim ran back to his office. The models he had started were still running, but finished soon. He compared the results, but wasn't happy.
Clint had always been an ectomorph, while Jim was a mesomorph. The formula as designed seemed to be retained by ectomorph's in greater concentrations than mesomorph's. There also seemed to be an age factor. It seemed that Clint would keep surging past Jim, no matter what Jim tried.
Next, he pulled up Mark's model, and couldn't believe his eyes. Just as the formula had a greater effect on Clint, it was having a far greater impact on Mark. His young age meant that he was still growing, and the formula reacted exponentially with his teenage hormones.
Jim decided he needed more information. He needed to understand exactly what about Clint and Mark made the formula react better for them than for him. If he understood that, maybe he could create a modified formula for himself.
By three in the afternoon, the only progress he had made was the headache that was wracking his brain. He was getting antsy, and needed to relieve the tension. He knew Clint would be in the gym, but he didn't care. He needed a workout to calm and focus himself.
He closed his office door and took out one of the vials of muscle enhancer. It may not work as well on him as Clint or Mark, but it still worked. He filled a syringe and gave himself a shot. He also gave himself a shot of his own Fantastic formula for good measure. He threw the syringes away and headed for the gym.
As he changed in the locker room, he could feel the formulas working. He saw Clint's shirt hanging by his locker, and noticed some tears under the arms where it had been stretched. The flush of the formula and the intimidation of Clint's power combined with Jim's headache were too much. Jim faced a choice -- either break his spirit or come out fighting. He looked in the mirror and didn't see a quitter. He got angry with himself. Stripping off his shirt, he threw it on the bench and walked into the gym.
Jim wasn't surprised to see Clint there, but he was surprised to see Jen. Clint was doing chin ups with 500 pounds strapped to his waist, and Jen was counting. She was up to 152, and Clint had barely broken a sweat. His back was thick and the flexing muscles easily defied gravity's pull. He looked like he could actually propel himself through the ceiling if he weren't careful.
Clint's display of power only fueled Jim's anger, and his self confidence. In the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't compete with Clint's size and strength, but he didn't care. He was what he was and soon he'd be more. He ignored Clint and walked over to an incline to work his abs.
Jim started his crunches timed perfectly with Jen's count. When Clint reached 250, and Jim 90, Clint picked up the pace. It seemed to be a race between the two muscle men, with neither willing to give up. At 1000 chin up, Clint relented while Jim continued, stopping after he reached 1001 crunches.
Neither man seemed at all fatigued. Jim's abs were 8 ripped cinderblocks of defined muscle, while Clint's lats looked like he could hang glide just by flexing. They walked toward each other, each with the strut of extreme confidence.
"Didn't think you were coming," said Clint, "so I started without you. Looks like you put on a little size since last week. So did I." Clint smiled.
"Just trying to get into better shape," said Jim.
"Too bad you'll never be in this good of shape," said Clint, tensing his muscles.
"Boys," interrupted Jen, "are you here to workout or talk?"
"I'm here to work out," said Jim.
"I'm here to impress you, hon," said Clint to Jen.
"Jen's only impressed by real men," muttered Jim as he turned to find some weights. He felt Clint grab his shoulder.
"What d'ya say, little man?" asked Clint aggressively.
"I said that I'll always be more man than you, no matter how big and strong you get," replied Jim, forcefully brushing Clint's arm off his shoulder.
"I know you're helping Jen's brother, and I really don't want to embarrass you in front of her..."
"Hey, Jen knows the truth, don't you, hon?" There was a certain tone to Jim's voice that conveyed his meaning to Clint.
Clint looked at Jen, then looked back at Jim, jealousy in his eyes. He took a step toward Jim. "You want to challenge me, little man?"
"Oh how neanderthal," said Jen, trying to diffuse the situation.
"No Jen, it's time for you to choose," said Jim, not breaking eye-contact with Clint, "this musclehead or me."
There was silence, then Clint spoke. "Jen likes a real man, and real men have muscle. No man can beat me in that department."
Clint walked over and grabbed an Olympic bar. He loaded with 12 plates. Smiling, he easily lifted the bar and began to do barbell curls. After twelve, he shifted the bar, let go of one hand and cranked out ten curls, using only one hand. He shifted the bar to his other hand and cranked out another ten. It seemed easy for him. Putting the bar down, he walked over to Jen and flexed his massive gun. "Light weights give a good pump," he said smiling. "Feel the power in this arm."
Jen visibly flushed and her breathing increased. She put one hand on top of Clint's peak, and the other below, feeling the heat and hardness of the super man's magnificent muscle. She involuntarily sighed.
"And you know I got more. Way more," Clint bragged as he grabbed the top of his t-shirt and ripped it off, revealing his perfectly chisled, massive torso.
Jim didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to the weight. He removed 6 plates, then did his own set, mimicking Clint. After 10 perfectly executed dumbell curls with each arm, he walked over to Jen. Flexing his own massive gun, he said, "feel that!" Jen wrapped her hands around Jim's powerful muscle. She cooed.
Clint pushed Jim aside, and flexed his arm in front of Jim's totally obscuring the smaller peak with his own bigger mountain. It was like comparing Mount McKinley to Mount Everest. Both men displayed huge powerful arms, but only one was the biggest.
Jim was undeterred. He flexed into a most muscular pose. "Come on Jen, worship this body. Feel my hard pecs and abs. Remember how these legs can thrust so powerfully that you cum and cum and cum!"
Clint scowled. Matching Jim's pose, he once again displayed his superior size. But for once, Jim's symmetry seemed better than Clint's. Clint's extreme mass seemed blocky, while Jim's muscles flowed together. Jen walked over to Jim, and began rubbing her hands over his chest. Jim relaxed, and she dug her fingers into his firm pecs. Flexing, her hands cupped around the roundness of the iron-like muscle. She ran her hands down his abs, tracing the contours of each brick.
Clint wasn't about to give up. He grabbed Jen's other hand, and placed it on his abs. Jen could feel how much bigger each muscle was, how much deeper her fingers went between each groove of his stomach. She began to compare. Placing her hands on both men's chests, she dug her fingers into them. "Oh Clint," she sighed as she felt just how superior his muscle was. Jim flexed, and so did Clint. Jen placed her hands below each man's pecs, wieghing them. She moved her mouth to Clint's nipple and licked the salty sweat from his superior chest.
Jen knelt down, and each man presented her with his calves. Both were diamond hard, but the sweep of Clint's and the depth of his cuts were unbeatable. As he flexed, his muscle seemed to pulse with new growth. Even Jim noticed it. Jim let his unflexed quads ripple before Jen, then flexed his upper thigh into rivers of hard muscle. Again, Clint duplicated the move, displaying his more muscular leg and upstaging Jim.
Jim had one last chance. He stepped directly in front of Jen, and pressed his crotch in her face. Flexing, he willed his bulge huge, making his cock as thick as he possibly could. She grabbed at his unbeatable manmeat, and mouthed the huge organ over his shorts.
Clint pushed Jim away. He was no slouch in that department, and Jen felt his big tool. True, he couldn't compete with Mr. Fantastic, but what he had displayed between the two most muscular legs on the planet was enough for Jen. She felt herself orgasm.
"Jim," she said. "I'm sorry." Her voice trailed off.
Clint smiled. "Looks like the lady chose, little man." He flexed into a most muscular crab pose, his extreme muscles pulsing with power. "And I am obviously the best man," he said.
Jim didn't say a word. He turned, and walked toward the locker room.
"Jim," Jen called out. "Mark?"
He didn't turn. "This has nothing to do with the kid," he said as he left Jen and Clint alone. He dressed, and went home.
When Mark got home to Jim's house, he was surprised to see Jim's car in the driveway. He ran inside, and found Jim in the basement. He was lying on a bench, pressing what looked to be close to a ton. He wasn't wearing his normal workout shorts, but a pair of posing trunks.
"Hey Jim, have I got a story for you. I did it! I whopped that asshole Kevin real good. He'll never bother me again!'
Jim put the bar on on the rack and sat up, his chest pumped huge. "That's good kid." Jim sounded depressed.
"You're too young," Jim said. "You wouldn't understand."
Mark sat down next to Jim. He put his hand around Jim's shoulders. It surprised Jim. Just a week ago, this kid was shy and reserved. Now, he seemed bolder. "Try me," he said.
Jim told him about the encounter, and how Mark's sister had chosen Clint.
"Look at me," said Jim. "I'm fucking huge. I'm a stud. Who wouldn't want me? I..." he stopped. There was fear in his voice, as if the revelation was too much for him. "I've never been second-best before."
"Dude! What the fuck are you saying?" shouted Mark. "Just because my dumbass sister chose someone else doesn't make you second best. Take it from me, you'll always be number one."
"Kid, you just don't..."
"Oh yes I do. Come on. I'm still that kid that was being beat up last week. You gave me the confidence to take on my bullies. You're the best." Mark squeezed Jim's shoulders. "I can't imagine why Jen wouldn't want you." Mark hesitated, then added, "I'd want you."
Jim laughed. He nodded, then began to stand up. Mark stood with him, never taking his hand off of Jim's shoulder. Jim put his arm around Mark's waist. "Let's get a shower then catch some dinner, ok man?"
Mark smiled and blushed. "OK."
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