By Choco_Cow

My eyes went from the picture to the file, and back to the observation window, in disbelief. He’s 18…I just have to keep telling myself that. Watching him do what he was doing right now…it’s hard to imagine he’s still just a kid…that he’s just human. The intern next to be was supposed to be taking notes…measuring his vitals. Making sure he doesn’t die on us (not that he was unhealthy…by any stretch of the imagination), the poor kid had dropped his pen a while ago.

Shawn Castillo had already succeeded in climbing a concrete wall with his bare hands simply by digging his fingers into the rock and pulling himself upwards, and proceeded to do push ups, now on rep 85. I’d simply asked him to show me something…the reason why he was here, and the kid shrugged and…this is ridiculous. But…at least now I have an idea of why he likes hiking and mountain climbing so much.

“Alright Shawn…that’s good…” I muttered over the intercom. Shawn’s grey-green eyes looked towards mine, and he gave me a smirk. Self confident, and a bit cocky, he nodded, and let go of the ceiling, doing a somersault in mid air before landing easily on his feet. Wearing a pair of jeans and a black cotton t-shirt, even in simplicity he was stunning. Currently his arms, shoulders—hell…his upper body, was pumped just slightly, veins just under the surface rushing blood to his working muscles, as he crossed his arms over his shoulders.

“You want me to do anything else?” Shawn tilted his head, waiting for his instructions. I looked at him, before getting up. “We’re not in sterile conditions are we, Dave?”

I turned to the intern next to me, who seemed to have just picked his jaw up off the floor. He shook his head, and I smiled, leaning back into the microphone. “I’ll be in with you in a second Shawn.”

Walking away from the console, I entered the observation room where he was at, looking him over. Shawn turned to face me, pulling his arms down and crossing them behind his back. I watched his triceps shift into perfect striation, and I restrained myself from coming closer.

“How long have you been….like this Shawn?” I asked the question, my eyes leaving his body finally and drawing up to his face. He shifted his stance, relaxing, looking up to the ceiling he’d put a few holes in.

“As long as I can sister’s the same way, but you only wanted guys…this thing, this kinda strength, it runs in the family.” He murmured, his voice a cool baritone that flowed through me.

“What’s the most you think you can do, Shawn? Strength-wise…how far do you think you can go.” At that, Shawn’s wry smile began again, and he looked back to me. “I’ve done reps with an F-350…punched through metal doors, I don’t really know how to tell you how strong I am, there’s no way to measure it. I really stopped being able to use conventional weights. I need over half of the free weights in the gym to get the kind of workout I need, and the owners think that that would be monopolizing so I just came up with some things at home, so far I think I’ve done pretty well.”

“I…Indeed. Let’s see….I want to see you.” Shawn looked at me, and smiled a bit.


From there, the shirt came first. The picture was only a month old or so, but already I could see more than before. His pecs were fuller, pushing out and nearly casting a shadow on the rest of his torso. His waist was small, an eight pack ripping down his stomach and obliques fanning outwards towards his lats, which made his arms stand out just a bit above the normal degree. His deltoids and trapezius muscles were fighting for space on his shoulders, which were pushing closer towards his ears. From there, he reached down, his biceps flexing and pulsing as he fiddled with his belt, which was the only way his pants could stay up around his trim waist, his forearms nearly the size of a 2-liter.

“Before you do that…turn…I want to see the back of you…” From the picture he’d shown me a good portion of his front…but his back was still a mystery. He obliged, turning, and showing off the definitive pattern of striations and bulges that made perfect symmetry, including the circular saw like muscles adorning his lower back and the Christmas tree shape spearing down his spine. He dropped the belt to the floor, took off his shoes and socks, and slowly pulled, rolling his jeans down.

From here…pure perfection. He was obviously not one of those guys who are muscular on top but then are little more than sticks from the waist down. The first thing that caught my eye was his ass, to tell you the truth. Perfectly toned, with a healthy amount of fat that made it perfectly round, it looked as if a basketball had been cut and half and stuffed under his skin. His hamstrings bulged as he kicked the pants away from him, boxers obscuring the tops from view, but he quickly shed those as well. Well…I suppose I’d be seeing all of him. He finally stepped away from the neat bundle he made, and as I was just looking over the diamond hard lobes of his calf muscle, he turned back around, showing me four thick, meaty heads of quads, each and every one twitching slightly as he took up a stance

And then there was the large tumescent pole between the boy’s legs. A good 8…8 and a half inches from sight…soft. About as thick as the rest of him was, he made no motions to display his modesty. He looked down for a second, and then turned to the side, giving me the subtle line of his neck muscles. I could almost feel the heat coming from his body. Truly…truly out of marble he had to be made. The Greeks would have killed for perfection.

He gave one of the little smirks I’d already grown fond of, and cracked his neck softly, before pulling into a perfect ‘most muscular’. There was a wave…palpable wave of power coming off of him and towards me as he flexed, holding it for a good minute, as his muscles burned, the skin reddening as his muscles swelled becoming more and more engorged. I bit my lip softly, trying not to let the ‘objective scientist’ role slip away completely.

He broke the pose, switching into a double bicep pose for a few seconds, his biceps peaking about halfway up his forearm. A subtle twitch, his forearms bent in more and pushed the peaks higher, before he went fluidly from there to a tricep pose, pulling the meaty arms back behind him, and, with another seductive grin, flexed his pecs at the same time, the upper and lower shelves dividing, pulsing with blood. He looked down, and extended his right leg, shaking the big muscles before throwing it into a flex, the four heads like monsters fighting for space.

He cannot be 18…A small smile hit my lips. There were so many abilities for him. Quite a bit of potential here. A viable force. “D…Dave!”

“….shit….y...yeah?” I chuckled a bit. He sounded like he was coming down from one of the best orgasms of his life.

“Go ahead and push Shawn through to Phase Two…”

“Y…Yes sir!” •

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