Power of the Hulk


By Corwin

Scott lay on the bench, the bar loaded with 100 pounds. He placed his hands on the bar and struggled to raise it. He felt like everyone was watching him, laughing at him. In his mind, he could hear their snickers -- 'wimp', 'faggot', 'loser', 'wuss'. It made him made mad, and he forced his arms to lift the weight. It wobbled from side to side, and he steadied it, then tried to lower it to his chest. It was so heavy. He arched his back and forced it up. He tried a second time, barely getting it down, then forcing it up, the bar teetering from side to side. He mustered the courage to go for three. Scott closed his eyes and pushed. His arms ached as he tried to raise it, and felt the weight begin to fall as his muscles failed.

"Need some help with that?" A pair of big hands grabbed the bar and lifted. Scott opened his eyes and saw a washboard eightpack and a pair of round pecs that hovered inches over the flat stomach. A pair of arms as thick as Scott's legs held the weight, then slowly curled it. Grapefruit-sized biceps exploded from the powerhouse's upper arms, and a thick blue vein pulsed as the man's strong muscles easily controlled the weight. Scott didn't need to see the man's face. He'd knew it was Brandon.

Brandon had gone to High School with Scott. They were friends then. Brandon was slightly more athletic than Scott, but was still an object of scorn. Both were skinny and bookish. Both were gay and fantasized about bodybuilders. They each longed to be huge mass monsters.

Brandon had majored in bio-chemistry and genetics. In his sophomore year, Scott began to notice changes in Brandon. His arms began to fill his shirt sleeves. His shirts got tighter as Brandon's pecs began to show, and Scott noticed a V-taper to Brandon's back. The legs of Brandon's pants got tighter while the waist got looser. When Scott asked Brandon about the change, he replied, "Just living my dream, little guy. I found the secret to this," he flexed his arm and a hill-like bicep popped up, "and these." He raised his shirt and ran his hand over small ridges of muscle on his stomach. "I'll share, if you want. And if you got the bucks to pay." Scott had turned him down. That seemed to piss Brandon off. He'd been a jerk to Scott ever since. But whatever Brandon was taking, it was working. He was now a good 280 pounds of solid muscle and manly strength. Scott was still a 135 pound weakling, as Brandon liked to demonstrate every chance he got. Like he was doing now.

"Damn, this is light," said the big man, lowering the weight. He grabbed the bar in the center with one hand and curled it again. "Still light. Well, I guess these 22s are just a lot stronger than that flat chest of yours. Oh, and that's a cold measurement. I've pumped these beauties up to over 24 inches. In another few months, I'll have 24 as their cold measure. I just keep getting bigger and stronger while you, Scotty-boy, well..." Brandon laughed. He dropped the weight on the bench and moved to the side. Grabbing Scott's loose shirt, Brandon pulled him up with one hand. "You'd better leave now and let a real man use this bench."

"But I wanted to work out," Scott protested.

Brandon lifted Scott like he was a feather. "I told you to leave. You know what these muscles can do. Don't make me mad. You wouldn't like it when I'm mad." Brandon tossed Scott off the bench. Scott could hear some of Brandon's new friends laugh, so he slunk off to the locker room to change.

Scott did know what Brandon was capable of. It had been early last semester. It was late at night, and Scott had just started a weight lifting routine. Brandon came in. He wore only a set of posing briefs. "Hey Scotty! Heard you were here. Thought I'd show you how my little project was going." Brandon grabbed his crotch. "OK, maybe not so little." Brandon walked over to a squat rack. It was loaded with 10 plates. Scott had assumed Brandon was going to squat it, but instead, he picked it up with one hand. "Ya Scott. You could have these too. Only 18 now, but growing bigger every day. Oh, and not just big. Strong. Stronger than anyone else, and getting stronger." Brandon threw the weight up til it almost hit the ceiling, then caught it again with one hand. "Sure you don't want power like this?" Brandon grabbed the bar by one end and held it cantilever with one hand. He then turned the bar and placed another hand on the other end. He smiled a toothy, white smile. His chest flexed, two cannonball-shaped pecs coming to life. The bar made a strange screechy cry as the metal began to buckle under Brandon's force. Brandon's face contorted as he forced his arms to overcome the resistence of the metal and to close in on each other. The bar twisted and compressed between the plates. When the bar had formed a sandwich between the plates, Brandon took a deep breath, then let out a scream. The metal flattened like a pancake as Brandon power-flexed into it. When the metal refused to compress anymore, Brandon grabbed its by the edges and folded it in half, the turned in and folded it into quarters. He threw the mass of metal across the room. His body was covered with a mist of sweat. He struck a crab pose and growled. "YOU SEE WHAT THIS BODY CAN DO!" He walked over to Scott. "These muscles could crush you like a bug. We always wanted muscles like these Scotty, and I got them. I would've given you muscles like them too, but you fucked that up. You know how strong I am? I'm topping out at level 50 strength right now, and growing. Soon, I'll be as strong as that green skinned monster!"

That's what had given Scott the idea. The news reported about the scientist David Banner who turned into a monster they called the Hulk. Some accident had changed him. Scott was determined to find out what that accident was and reproduce it. He had hacked into government computers, and found out about Gamma Base. He learned of the gamma ray generator and how Banner had overdosed. It took him longer to locate the schematics and then to analyze them. He found Banner's genetic tests, and reports on what caused the mutation. He found the flaw in the generator that had caused the instability, and the funny green color. Then he had built it. He had gone to the gym tonight hoping to run into Brandon. He wanted to be reminded of the humiliation to help him build up his courage for what he was about to do.

Scott got dressed and made his way across campus to the physics building. He walked down the stairs to the basement. He climbed through a hole in some broken plaster to the deserted lab he had found. He turned on the lantern flashlights and looked at his invention. He had built the gamma ray generator from disgarded and stolen electronics. He had stolen the nuclear fuel from one of the labs, replacing it with grey clay. Banner had been exposed to 1 million coulombs per kilogram of radiation for five seconds. A soviet agent that had overdosed had been exposed to 2 million coulombs per kilogram for ten seconds. Scott's generator produced 10 million coulombs per kilogram. He set a clock for a minute exposure. He checked the special filter he had put into place. If the filter failed or his calculations were wrong, he'd die of an overdose. He thought of Brandon taunting him. He thought of Brandon with the power of the Hulk... or more. He started the count down and walked in front of the machine.

Scott watched the dial go from 10 to 9 and 8. He heard a hum of electronics pushing radioactive pieces together, starting a reaction that would create gamma energy. As the clock ticked down to one, he saw a light signaling the point of no return. At zero, the machine emitted a beam that struck him and went through him. Scott felt warm, then hot. He felt as though every cell in his body was on fire. He watched the clock tick up past five seconds. At ten, he felt as though his body would explode. He felt a power surging into him that was indescribable. At twenty, he wondered if he had gone to far. He felt as if a star was exploding around him. His concerns vanished by thirty seconds. He began to crave the beam, wanting its effects to last forever. He felt different. Changed. His cells now accepted the power from the beam. At forty five seconds he knew it was working. When the beam stopped, Scott fell to the floor. His clothes were soaked with sweat. He lay there for a minutes, recovering. Slowly he rose to his feet.

He stood for a second. He looked at his arm. It was still thin and weak looking. Had it worked? He made a fist. Nothing. But he FELT different! He closed his eyes and willed himself strong.

Scott felt his shirt tighten around him. He opened his eyes, and broke his concentration. He looked down at himself. He was muscular. Not huge, but bigger than before. He looked at his arms. There was a thick tube of a bicep and a clear horseshoe on his trap. His shirt sleeves had been pushed up over his cannonball delts. He moved a hand to his chest, and found that he could bounce his pecs. His stomach felt hard and thin. His legs were snug in his pants, and he had a very noticable basket. Best of all, he wasn't green. His growth had stopped, but he knew he could have more. He could control it.

Scott turned and grabbed a thick stick like apparatus. He turned off the flashlights and climbed through the hole. He noticed a locker. He had tried to move it before, but it was too heavy. He walked over to it and pushed. It easily moved in front of the hole, blocking it. Scott turned and ran to his dorm.

The halls of the dorm were empty as he slipped into his room. "Now, let's see just how big I can get!" He stood in front of his mirror and concentrated. Immediately, he saw a change. The shirt strained to contain his thickening body. The sleeves were the first to rip. He raised an arm and flexed, watching the muscle stretch larger. His pant legs gave next, with verticle tears around his now tree-like quads. He bounced his pecs, causing his shirt to split between them. He grinned, the flared his lats, ripping the shirt down the back. As he grew, the shirt gave out and fell to the floor, revealing a torso of a massive bodybuilder. "Bigger!" Scott demanded.

Scott felt his body expand. His pants began to rip into shreds, unable to control his massive thighs and calves. His abs thickened and ripped the leather belt, which flew off of him as it ripped. His glutes swelled, ripping his his pants. The fabric lost its battle with his lower body and fell to the floor in tatters. Scott's boxer briefs now fit like posing trunks. In seconds, they became tatters as his thighs and glutes surged with unstoppable power. "Wonder why that never happened on TV?" he thought. Standing naked, Scott watched as his body filled out and he began to grow. His head banged the ceiling as he became a hulking form of muscle power. His traps hugged his bull neck. His pecs formed a shelf at least a foot and a half deep (probably more). His arms were thicker than any bodybuilder's thighs and his thighs looked like redwoods. His eyes had become a luminous green, the only indication (besides his massive form) of his gamma transformation.

Scott looked at his new body, flexing his muscles and seeing his mind-blowing mass. He felt powerful, but how powerful. The government documents had plans for something called an Infinite Weapon. It was modified to attract the russian soldier after he beat the Hulk. Now Scott had changed it to attract the Hulk. He turned it on. While he waited, he fashioned a loin cloth out of a towel. He looked out the window. Soon, he saw a dot crashing toward him. As it got closer, he recognized it as a man. A very large, green man. The Hulk landed outside his dorm. With a powerful fist, he punched through the wall. The 7 foot tall, 1,040 pound giant was now face to face with the ten foot tall, 3,000 pound Scott. •

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