“I need you to take them off for the test,” Prof. Pearce said.

“Test?” said Sean. “Already?”

“Not that type of test, Sean. Don’t worry, it’s just so I can evaluate where the best place to put you would be.”

“Alright,” Sean said, shrugging his pumped, ripped shoulders. Like he thought, he only had to flex into a chest pose, and his shirt shredded from back to front. “My shorts too?”

Prof. Pearce nodded, and Sean took off his shorts, not opting for the quick method—he thought he might need them later if he didn’t have anything else.

“Very impressive,” Prof. Pearce said, circling Sean’s naked form. “I see you have your father’s genetics—lean, yet powerful muscle. Your vascularity is also very impressive for being at a resting phase.” He raised a hand off to his side, and suddenly the furniture started rearranging itself, as if moved by some invisible force, clearing the floor around them.

“Did you do that?” Sean asked.

“Questions later, Sean,” Prof. Pearce said. “You’re in the middle of a test.”

Sean nodded, a bit embarrassed.

“First, the test of strength and endurance,” said Prof. Pearce. He raised his hand again, and two metallic balls, about the size of baseballs, rose from a black duffel bag and into the professor’s huge palms. “These balls can be programmed for any weight, pounds to tons.” He looked at Sean. “Stand here,” he said, pointing to the center of the cleared area. Sean obeyed. “How much do you usually curl?”

“Curl, Sir?”

“Bicep Curls?” Prof. Pearce said. “You do them, don’t you?”

Sean shook his head. “Not really.”

“Don’t worry,” said Prof. Pearce. The balls let off a blue aura that faded as quickly as it had begun. “We’ll just start you at…say, 550.”

“550 what?”

“Pounds, of course,” Prof. Pearce said. “Don’t want to start you on tonnage right off the bat.” Prof. Pearce handed the metal orbs over to Sean.

The balls felt a bit heavy, but not 550lbs, more like 20 by Sean’s estimation—he wasn’t much of a lifter. He wouldn’t have believed that’s what was in his hand if all that had happened hadn’t already happened.

“If I drop ‘em—”

“Don’t,” said Prof. Pearce.

Sean nodded. He stood still for a good few seconds.

“Well, lift already,” Prof. Pearce said. “Curl them up.” He grabbed Sean’s wrists and showed him the motion. “Up and down, that’s all there is to it.”

From the very first curl, Sean’s biceps looked like they were ready to burst from his skin—like somebody had put two softballs in his skin and covered them with thick steel wires. Sean watched again as his forearms flexed and became corded, each section and striation of muscle clearly visible as they worked to hold the metal orbs. With each rep his muscles felt stronger, not weaker, as if he could go on all day, and he could almost see the blood running through his bulging veins, supplying his muscles with the necessary power. His biceps looked like they were working hard, but he didn’t feel it, and within one minute he had already done 100 reps, starting slow at first, but building speed as the confidence of his strength overtook his apprehension.

“I’m going to increase the weight, Sean,” Prof. Pearce said, and the two metal balls glowed the familiar blue.

They did become substantially heavier, but still, nothing Sean couldn’t handle. In fact, he didn’t even slow down.

“That’s 1,100lbs, twice what you were doing,” said Prof. Pearce. “How’s it feel?”

Sean looked down at his arms, the “y-vein” in his right bicep grew larger and now there was another smaller vessel moving horizontal from it. Did his biceps grow? They did look rounder, more defined

He had reached 500 reps now, his muscles deeply corded and bulging, his cock, thick and throbbing, 12 inches long, now displayed for everyone to see. He wanted so bad just to reach down and stroke it, but he couldn’t risk dropping the metal orbs, and he didn’t want the surging feeling of power to stop.

Funny thing was, Prof. Pearce didn’t seem to notice, as if this was something he had seen all the time. Even as his cock dripped dollops of its own lubrication onto the floor, he didn’t seem bothered. Honestly, it had stopped bothering Sean as well. He was beginning to feel good being naked, his brain entertaining thoughts of walking back into his high school, cock hangin’ out, muscles bulging, just to rub it in all the senior boy’s faces.

“Swimmer’s Press,” said Prof. Pearce, miming the motion to Sean.

Sean followed, catching on immediately, pumping out 30 reps in the first 10 seconds.

“Now, bend your knees,” Prof. Pearce said, and Sean obeyed.

Sean glanced down at his legs, his quads cut in perfect symmetry, veins pushing to the surface from the tear-drop on up through his inner thigh, snaking in “v’s” and “y’s” across his bulging muscle.

After 300 reps, Prof. Pearce raised the weight to 3,000lbs and instructed Sean on how to do Shoulder flys. It was Sean’s first real workout, but it wasn’t much of one if that’s what it was supposed to be, and after a whole hour of Prof. Pearce gradually raising the weight and changing the exercises, he allowed Sean to rest.

Sean didn’t need it, and Prof. Pearce seem to know it. He smiled in admiration, and turned to Sean’s father.

“He’s got your talent, Max,” Prof. Pearce said.

“I knew he would,” Sean’s father said.

“Talent?” asked Sean.

“You don’t get tired, and your power continues to rise during stress,” Prof. Pearce said. “That’s a rare talent among our people.”

“I still don’t even know what you mean by that,” said Sean.

“The Hanazin people, Sean,” Max, Sean’s father said. “That’s what our family is—has always been, with the exception of your mother. Me, you, and your brother.”

“Me too!”

The three of them turned towards the stairs. Sean’s five-year-old brother Kenneth stood there, cake all over his face.

“Not for another few years,” Max said.

Kenneth ran out in front of Sean, gawking and clearly amazed. “Whoa,” he said, placing both hands around Sean’s right forearm. Sean curled him up like the metal orbs before, Kenneth laughing.

Sean put him down and Ken limboed under his still erect, and throbbing cock.

“Stop that!” Max said, running over and picking up Ken by his shirt. “Let’s go clean the cake off of your face.”

Sean and Prof. Pearce were left laughing.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Not at all,” Prof. Pearce said.

With that, Sean disappeared into the ground floor bathroom. The mirror reflection was very pleasing, and made Sean that much more excited to jack-off. He wanted to flex his pumped body for a good few moments, curling in mock fashion, watching his biceps swell once more. He jiggled his pecs, which made him smile because he always wanted to do that, his chest massive enough to hear it, veins covering the surface towards his collar. He saw the V-Shape taper of his back, and he turned around to see the reflection in the mirror. He did a double-bicep pose, pushing his shoulder blades together, and pulling them apart just to watch the lean muscle move about—He couldn’t help it anymore.

He grabbed his cock and stroked it like a madman. The ecstasy he felt was like no other. He watched himself in the mirror, his strong, manly hands moving up and down his already lubricated shaft. The veins in his cock and balls bulged and constricted as if alive. The reflection of his face went from a smile to a fierce grin as he felt the ecstasy rise. He felt his muscles growing, his chest swelling and becoming more striated, his arms becoming more ripped, defined, and corded, his dark skin seeming to become thinner as the rest of his body grew. A strange power surged through him, the walls rattling behind him.

“Yes,” Sean said. “YES!” he screamed, a vase shattering, the mirror cracking—and Sean climaxed, blasting so much cum on the walls that it back-splashed onto his lean, sinewy body. He came for a good 30 seconds, shooting load after load onto the bathroom walls.

Sean faced the cracked mirror, his massive chest rising and falling in heaving breaths, every muscle a good three inches thicker, his cum covered torso a true image of a powerful man. Oh Fuck yeah! Sean thought. If I get to do this for tests at this new school, it doesn't seem so bad... •