The last 8 months had been incredible. He was considered the biggest, most developed Mr. O the world had seen up to this point. Their future was set. Endorsements. Magazine layouts. TV spots. Movies. He could have what he wanted. Not even 25 yet, and he was at the top of his profession. Sheila wept as she watched the clips of Barry's acceptance speech from the lab medical center. He looked so beautiful up there, and he was talking about her. Everything was perfect. She had come through the pregnancy with no problems. The scientists her had seen to that. She no longer even thought about the strange feelings she used to get every time she took one of those pills. She had worried earlier on about what it might be doing to her, to her child, but every time she looked into Barry's eyes, she forgot about the feelings and took the pill. He was so happy. Soon the pills had done the work the scientists had intended them to do, and she no longer experienced pains. Not even morning sickness had been a problem. She hadn't worked at the gym since her 4th month - they didn't want anyone to know about the pregnancy since eventually there would be no child. She exercised four short times a day! She was the most fit pregnant lady ever. She suspected it had something to do with the pills. As Sheila watched the television they had placed in her room, men in their white coats were recording all of the news footage of the Olympia announcements. They didn't care about the title. They were making still shots of Barry's physique as he posed on the stage. They were very pleased with his progress. The pills had done fine! He surpassed every hope they had for his success. Sheila had been the optimum vessel to incubate the growing child. In only 7 days the infant would be theirs. They were busy regulating a formula to feed the child from the data they were collecting. They wanted to be certain that the chemicals they mixed would combine with Barry's and Sheila's DNA to give this child the physical capabilities they desired. From this "muscle child" there would be many "muscles" to come! Many, many more!

On the 7th day Sheila and Barry had been instructed to leave the house for a holiday. All expense paid. They were going on a trip to California where Barry would get to visit all of the muscle-heads he idolized. Now, with his new title, they all wanted to meet him. The second youngest Mr. Olympia in history next to muscle-god Arnold! Universal Gyms was flying the two of them out and they didn't know it yet, but they would be staying for good. While they were gone the baby would just disappear.

A week later Barry and Sheila were in California, and the scientists had the boy. Barry and Sheila were happy together. The contests came and went and Barry was a tremendous success. It seemed like a dream. Soon, because of the drugs, they would only vaguely remember they once may have had a child, and might once have given him away. But those memories would pass completely. The pills took care of it all. Life was wonderful.

And time passed. 9 years. Clint was raised to be the perfect human. Free from disease, educated in every subject, and physically irresistable. He was practically alone. He never saw any other children, and the men who came to visit him - to exercise him, or tutor him - stayed only a few minutes and then disappeared as quickly as they had come. Alex was the only person who spent any real time with him. He liked Alex. It was 10 a.m. and Clint in the recreation hall. There was no television or radio, but he had plenty of "games" and "toys." He had just finished climbing the knotted rope that went to the ceiling. He could do it so easily now, it was becoming boring. He was curling the 35 lb. weight they had given him to exercise with, and his right arm was feeling the "glow" it usually felt when he had reached his 100th repetition. He liked that feeling. "Clint, put that down and come with me into the lab," said the gruff guard sent to get the boy. "In a minute," replied Clint. He wanted to do the other arm. He had never disobeyed before. "Clint, NOW!" repeated the guard and he moved toward the boy. From the other room all seven scientists including Dr. Lane and Alex watched with bodies tensed, waiting to see what would happen. Clint had been given his pills each day for the past 9 years, and soon certain "changes" should be taking place. The man reached down and pulled Clint up to his feet. From inside of his head Clint heard a voice say, "Clint, Make A Muscle." And he dropped the weight to the floor, and he jerked his arm back from the guard and flexed it tightly. He looked at his arm, and on it formed a bicep hard and round. His arm acted as if it was not his own. "Clint!" shouted the guard, and that was the last thing the guard remembered. Clint pulled his arm back and landed a blow that knocked the guard to the ground - out cold! Clint was amazed, and more than a little pleased with himself. He stared at his flexed bicep. When did that get there? He turned to the mirrors on the wall, and stared at himself. He looked down at the weight, and then at the guard, and last at his firm, round bicep. He smiled, and picked up the weight and continued exercising the other arm. He looked over at the unconscious guard and then back at his developing bicep. "Get that man out of there," said Dr. Lane to two attendants. "And Alex, go in and see if you can give him the strength test. He passed the Aggression Test just fine." Alex went.

"Good Morning, Clint," said Alex as he entered the room. The guard was gone. "Clint, could you do me a favor, please? I want you to try a something for me."

"Sure," said Clint. And he stopped exercising and stood up. Alex stared at him. A beautiful child. Smooth skin, stunning blue eyes, long blonde hair, perfect looks - pretty much a swimmer's build at this point.

"Clint, come over here, would you, and look at this chart? See the man with the barbell marked 'Position One'? Would you please pick up this barbell and hold it at waist level like he is doing?"

"Sure," said Clint, and he bent down and pulled the barbell up to his waist. "Now, Clint, Position Two is where you pull the weight slowly up to your shoulders in a curling motion. Can you do that? "Sure." said Clint, and he pulled the barbell up. "Now, Clint, try and continue that motion, and see how many times you can repeat it, OK?" And Clint began. From the other room cheers began. Clint was only 9 years old, and he was curling a 150 lb. barbell with little or no effort! Aggressive AND strong. The pills were a success! The men were elated. Clint was having fun! He liked pulling on this thing. And his arms were feeling really strange. He looked down at his upper arm, and the bulge was getting bigger! He felt great. He liked what his arm looked like."You can stop now," said Alex, but Clint continued until he had counted to 50! "Thanks, Clint. Now could you please Make A Muscle?" And Alex showed Clint a picture of a bodybuilder striking a double bicep pose. Clint imitated the pose. The men shouted again as they saw the 12" mound on the little boy's arm. Perfect! "Proceed with the program as planned, Alex," said Dr. Lane. "Clint," said Alex, "go back to what you were doing." And Clint began his sit-up routine. Again, time passed. "Where's my lifting belt," Clint demanded - his voice was very irritated. He was working with the weights as he did every morning at this time. His 12 year old body was getting huge, and lately he wore nothing but the posing briefs Alex had given him. His other clothes were too small.

As part of another "experiment" the guards were told to take his lifting belt and put it in the institute recreational yard where the older boys lifted. Clint was 5' 10" tall, and getting stronger and thus harder to control. They hesitated playing these tricks on him anymore for their own sakes. Puberty had come on fast, and his muscles were really beginning to show. Especially within the briefs. "Where is it?" he demanded angrily, as he jacked the 150 lb. guard up against the wall. "Follow me," said the guard, doing as he was told by Dr. Lane. Clint followed. He was brought to a glassed-in area that looked out over the recreational courtyard. In the yard several 17 year old boys were lifting, the largest one...with Clint's belt. "That's mine", he said to the guard, "get it!" Clint had never seen the boys, or any boy for that matter. He wasn't interested in them, he wanted his belt. "Why don't you go and get it yourself?" snarled the guard, and he unlocked the door to the courtyard. Clint walked out into the yard and up to the boy. "That belt is mine," he said," as he picked the boy up by the belt, holding him off of the ground and looking into his eyes. "Take it off!" And he threw the boy to the ground. Then inside his head he heard the voice: "Make A Muscle," and he instinctively drew up into the pose Alex had shown him on the chart. The boys looked at Clint standing there in his bright blue trunks showing off 19" biceps on a 12 year old body and they couldn't speak. His chest flared, and his stomach tightened. He was big! The boys were all silent. He lowered his arms and stood there waiting. The large boy removed the belt and tried to hand it to Clint. He knocked it from his hand, and grabbed him by the collar. He wasn't sure what he was about to do. It was as if his mind was not his own. He dragged the boy to the flagpole. Turning him upside down, Clint wrapped the rope around the boy's ankles and then pulled him up the flagpole. With each pull his arms pumped and his lats flared, and the other boys were going to their knees in awe of him. He fastened the rope to the flagpole and he turned to the group. He flashed his flexed arms at them. Two of the boys came in their jeans! Then he went back and picked up his belt and crossed inside leaving the boy dangling on the pole. He continued his workout.

Dr. Lane and the team were shouting and cheering. They were furiously making notes and entering data on the computer. Clint was becoming more than they could have hoped for! As Clint worked out he thought about the boys. They were 17 or 18, yet they were all smaller than he was. Why? Also he was thinking about how excited he felt as he man-handled that large kid. The more he thought about it, the stranger he felt. He was getting excited. He breathing was becoming rapid. What was going on? As he pictured the fear in the eyes of the rest of those kids his penis began to rise. He looked down and it was pushing hard against his briefs. He stood up to look at himself in the mirror. What he saw he liked. He was marveling at the muscle sprouting up all over his body. His neck, his arms, his chest. And lately his chest was getting covered with hair! Lots of it! He was falling in love with himself. He struck a double bicep pose and his penis continued to grow! He reached down to touch it. It felt good. He began to stroke himself with one hand and rub his chest with the other. Whatever was happening, he loved how it felt. More time passed. Six years. Clint was 18. He was now bigger than his father ever hoped to be. When he would flex his arms the bicep practically touched the end of his extended thumb. His neck was as round as his whole head, and his chest was massive. He marvelled at how he could make each one of his pecs move just by flexing a muscle. He was turned on by what he looked like moving his pecs back and forth in the mirror. He brought his arms instinctively in front of him, and flexed every muscle in his chest, shoulders and abdomen. The sight was incredible and his penis began to grow! It stretched his shorts to the breaking point. He looked at his crotch, then at the mirror. He wanted to try something. "AAAhhhhhhggghh!" he shouted, and he struck a Most Muscular Pose. As he gazed at himself in the mirror his penis began to rip through his shorts! He looked down, marveling at himself. He loved it! The scientists were elated! He reached down and took the hot steel rod in his hand.

He could win any contest now, but they had more in mind for him than that. He was nearing the end of his training, but there was still one very important part of his development remaining. The 25 year old murderer waited in the outer chamber of the institute not knowing what was happening to him. One minute he was in a store, robbing the owner, and the next minute he was in a courtroom being condemned to some island correctional institute for shooting the guy. Now he stood in the middle of a sterile room with mirrors all around. They had taken his clothes and left him there naked. He was mad as hell. Who had done this? They would be sorry. He was as furious as hell to be made to stand here this way. "Let me outta' here!" he yelled. No answer. He took a swing at the door and succeeded in making a little dent in it. He was outraged. That's when Alex entered the room. "You can't hold me here, wimp!" screamed the kid. "Where are my clothes, and what the hell kinda' place is this that you'd make me stand here naked?" Alex just watched him rant. That infuriated him further. The boy ran toward Alex and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"Clint," Alex called calmly. And in walked the 18 year old mountain. 6' 7" tall, 282 lbs., blond hair, blue eyes - he looked exactly like his father. But at 18 he looked like his father had at 35. Massive shoulders, pecs of steel, a neck the size of his head. 23 inch arms! 30 inch waist. Quads thickly muscled and chorded. Muscular back and lats that made his arms stand far away from his body. "Look, freak! Get out of my way," the boy commanded. He headed toward the door. "Clint," said Alex. "Make a muscle." And Clint struck a double-bicep pose that stopped the boy in his tracks. Clint smiled. He liked it when people reacted that way. "I sssaid, get he hell out of my way!" he said again. And he charged Clint, lowering his head and using it as a battering ram against Clint's mid-section. BAM! The guy met the immovable force! Clint never even reacted. The guy staggered back and fell to the floor. Clint just smiled a bigger smile and struck a side-bicep pose. "No Clint, Make A Muscle." said Alex again. Clint knew what to do. He had been carefully taught. He calmly took the man by the shoulders. The guy was powerless against him. He cried in pain as he stood in front of this muscle god. "Position One," said Alex, as Clint lifted the kid off of the floor as if he was a standard barbell. "Position Two," said Alex, and Clint lowered him to waist level and began to curl him in perfect form. The 18 year old boy moved the struggling 25 year old in slow, strict movements and counted as he completed each rep. "One." His bicep contracted into it's massive mound. "Two. Three." He liked the pump he was getting. He watched his arms grow. "Four. Five." As he counted, his dick began to rise. He loved man-handling this struggling screaming body as he continued to grow bigger still. What an interesting effect it was having on other parts of his body, too. "Six." His dick had gone from it's 9" flaccid state to 11", then 12". "Seven." The man could see the end of Clint's pole as he was lowered somewhere near Clint's tight, firm ab section. It was getting longer. He was reaching 13". 14" "Eight." "What are you doing?" the guy screamed. He was panicked! "Nine." "One more, Clint." said Alex. "Ten."

Ten reps was all it took. The 18 year old muscle monster had reached his full erection of 15" for the first time in his life. He turned the kid upright, holding him 5 feet off of the floor, just above his extended dick. "NO!" shouted the man. And Clint impaled him on the steel shaft, and began to rapidly pump him up and down. His screams slowly turned into silence. His eyes were glazed over. He couldn't speak. The only sound he produced was a strange "ahhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh" noise as he jiggled violently up and down on this monster's erection. And then the eruption occurred. His entire body was filled with the liquid from Clint's dick. He felt it everywhere inside him. He was filled to the point of bloating! It was starting to drip from the his mouth he had been pumped so full. "Stop now, Clint," said Alex. And Clint pulled the man from his shaft and lowered him to the floor. He crossed his massive arms in front of his chest, and smiled as he waited to see what would happen. One minute later the puny man began to change. •