By Corwin

For the next week, Chris's time at the gym began to change. He seemed to get less attention, as the other people's attention turned to Ron, who had acquired the nickname 'Kastet', or Kas for short.

"It's an anti-tank missile," some geek had said, trying to get into the big man good graces. "The way you destroyed Tank, man..."

Ron chuckled at hearing this. He flexed his right arm in the dweeb's face, pointed to the huge bicep and said, "These are the only missiles I needed to destroy that runt." The guy nearly creamed his pants right there, and had to run into the locker room before he embarrassed himself anymore.

It didn't matter, though, the nickname stuck. Everytime Chris heard someone talk about Kas, he felt a deep anger in the pit of his stomach. It drove him to work harder, lift heavier. He'd show these fools what a determined muscleman could do. He was determined to crush Ron.

Kas made it a point to laud his strength over Chris whenever he saw them. If Chris were doing barbell curls with 135, Ron would do 170. If Chris were squatting 600, Ron would do 800.

Chris was juicing and eating to an extreme, and it was showing. His sessions in the gym were intense, driven by Kas's assholish attitude toward him and his own desire to be the best. He could tell it was paying off, as he noticed Ron's workout's lacking a certain intensity.

Unfortunately, Ron noticed it too.

Chris showed up late for his workout, and Mike greeted him at the door. Ron's eye was swollen shut, and he had a huge black and blue mark on his arm in the shape of a hand.

"Sorry Tank," he said. "You can't work out now. Kas is in there and..."

"Fuck that," said Chris, trying to push by, but Mike stopped him.

"He knows."

"The asshole did this to you," Chris said matter of factly. Mike just nodded. "Let me in. I'll kill him."

"Tank, he's too strong. He had the juice I gave him tested. He found out it was only half strength. He came into my office totally crazed. He said he noticed how hard you'd been working out, and knew you had the real stuff. That's when he started whaling on me, saying nobody takes his muscle from him without experiencing pain. A couple guys tried to stop them and he tossed them aside like they were nothing. Said they'd be next if he didn't leave us alone. He tore my office apart and found the real stash. He took it all. I saw him shooting up in the locker room. That's when he ordered me to bar you from the gym. Said if he every saw you come around again, there'd be real trouble. Then he headed to the gym, saying he had to make up for lost time. Tank, he's attacking the weights like I've never seen. Please, I don't want you to get hurt."

"Fuck him. I gotta lift," said Chris, looking inside and seeing Ron doing leg presses with what looked to be over 1200lbs.

"Look," said Mike, grabbing Chris's arm and leading him away from the window. "Can you come back around 9? Kaz,"

Chris snarled. "His name is Ron," he said sternly.

"OK," said Mike. "Ron is always gone by then. I'll close the gym and you can work out then."

Chris thought about it. "He took my juice, right?"

"Don't worry. I've got something. He doesn't know about it. Experimental. I'll tell you about it later. Tank, I need you to work with me. Ka... I mean Ron is too much for anyone else. He's afraid of you. He knows you have the potential to crush him. I'll help you if you help me. Please." Mike seemed to be begging.

"OK, I'll be back," Chris said, knowing that it won't be Mike who will be the one begging, but Ron.

When Chris showed up, the gym was locked. He pounded on the door, and Mike came and unlocked it. He seemed skiddish, like he was worried. Chris pushed his way in. He needed to lift. The delay had only instensified his desire to pump and pump hard.

"He just left," said Mike. "I hope he didn't see you."

"Fuck 'em," said Chris, making his way to the locker room. He walked to his normal locker, and saw the door ripped off. "What the fuck!"

"It was Kas. He was looking for your juice."

Chris lifted a pair of torn shorts from the floor. His jock was missing. "He needed to take my jock? Maybe the queer wanted to sniff it or something."

"Ignore that for now," said Mike, handing him two vials.

"What's this?" said Chris.

"Juice. No, super-juice. New stuff. A hybrid. Think of it as caffeine plus T times 10. The stuff is suppose to increase the intensity of your workout and promote muscle growth. It also blocks some hormone or something that keeps guys small."

"I'm not small," said Chris.

"No, I mean, it breaks plateaus or something. Basically, it enhances everything you got and decreases everything that stops you from getting there. Suppose to make you eat like a horse too," said Mike.

"I do that now," said Chris, changing into his shorts and workout shirt.

"Not like with this stuff. The other vial is HGH. It intensifies the effects of the other drug. I figure, in a couple months, Kas..."

"Ron," snarled Chris.

"Ya, him, you'll be way stronger than he can imagine."

Chris looked at vial. He filled a syringe, pulled down his pants, and stuck it into his glutes. The substance burned, but Chris knew the pain only made you stronger.

Chris pulled his pants up and headed toward the gym with determination. When he got to the door, he felt a moment of light headedness. He slowed, then felt his heart beating fast. He felt anxious. Energized. When he continued forward, he was focused like never before.

In the gym, he grabbed a couple of 50 pound dumbells. With deliberate determination, he raised and lowered the weight, squeezing his 18 inch bi with each rep. When Chris completed the set, he could barely wait to start the next. He picked up a pair of 65s, and cranked out a set of 12. For his workout, Chris used 70s. After the dumbell curls, he did a 4 sets of Scott curls, then 4 sets of barbell curls.

"Damn, you're a machine today," said Mike.

"Whatever that stuff is," said Chris, "it's great. I'm not even tired, but look at this pump. Totally swole!" Chris raised his arms into a double bi, and checked out their size in the mirror. "Looks like 19 or more with this pump."

"Ya, but Ron is over 22 cold now."

"Fuck him," said Chris, grabbing the barbell and squeezing out another set. "I'll pump these muthers to 24 then."

Tank was like an uncontrolled animal. He walked to the cable machine, and began a set of curls. "Don't wreck the machine," Mike joked as he watched Chris crush out rep after rep.

"If it can't take my power, it deserves to be wrecked," said Chris, flexing his arm. "Gotta be over 20 now. Shit, I'm stoked. Get me a protein shake. All this lift'n's making me hungry."

As Mike walked away, Chris jumped and grabbed a chin up bar. He hoisted his nearly 280lb mass up and down, flexing his bis with each rep as he did rep after rep. When Mike came back, Chris had just counted out 50 and let go. He grabbed the shake and chugged it down.

Chris looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. He was covered in sweat and could only imagine what he smelled like. "Damn. Have I been lifting for three hours?"

"Like a beast," Mike said. "I've never seen you so focussed. Shit, I've never seen anyone work out like that before. You keep that up, fuck, I can't even guess how huge you'll get!"

Chris said nothing. He just nodded and walked into the locker room. He stripped off his sweaty clothes and put them in his gym bag. Walking to the shower, he appraised his physique in the mirror. His powerful shoulders and arms and rock solid waist, massive pecs and thick lats. His legs were tree trunks and his cock and balls hung like a bull's between them. Ya, he was a super man on his way to be a superior man. "Fucking crush that Kas."

Chris got home at 12:30. He was starved. He walked past his computer on the way to the kitchen, stopping only to start his mail program.

"One new message," flashed on the screen.

Chris grabbed a chicken breast, and pressed the command to read the message. His anger flared with the from line displayed the name "Tank Killer". Inside the message is a video. Chris plays it.

Windows media player springs up and loads the file. Chris sees a hand, then a powerfully muscled back walking from the camera. Ron turns around, wearing nothing but Chris's jockstrap. "Hey runt," he says. "Figured since your days of liftin are now over," he stressed the word 'over', "you won't be needin this anymore." Ron put his fingers in the waistband and snapped it into his firm abs. "Have to admit, it's kinda small." He turned sideways and showed how his nuts barely fit in the pouch. "Can't really get my big boys in here, can I?"

A female voice off camera giggles and says, "You are one big boy."

Ron smiles and signals for his girlfriend. She comes over and begins to fondle him through the jock as he kisses her and strokes her ample breasts. The jock begins to stretch and then he starts to tear it off as Ron's monster cock hardens, allowing it to spring free. Ron rips the jock off his body and stands in front of the camera. "Gotta go fuck my babe with my big, hard muscle cock. Figure you can jerk off over my manly body just like my new buddy Joe likes to do. Figure I'll train with him now that you are banned from every gym in the city. Have a good life, loser." Ron flexes his arm and kisses his huge bicep, then the video ends.

Chris stares at the computer, chewing on the chicken breast. He swallows. He turns the computer off, and goes back to the kitchen for more food. "I'm gonna crush that asshole," is all he says as he keeps eating. •

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