Tim pulled into his driveway. As he got out of the car, the light on his porch came on. He walked to the door, and opened it, finding it unlocked. He looked into the video camera he had installed above the door and smiled. The lights in his living room were on, and the stereo was playing Annie Lenox’s CD Bare. He began to hum “A Thousand Beautiful Things” as he went to his bedroom to change into something more comfortable.
He put his backpack on his bed, and began scavenging through his dresser. He pulled out a pair of gym shorts and a tank top. He preferred the casual look, but he needed to meet with clients today so he had to dress up. He unbuttoned his shirt, and looked at his bare torso in the mirror. ‘Not bad,’ he thought. He’d been working out for years, and had bulked up to 175 pounds of nice muscle. Not ripped or buff, and certainly not as big as he would like, but not bad. He flexed his arm, admiring the 15 inch bulge that grew at his command. He liked his broad, round shoulders, but wished his pecs were larger. He didn’t like the spare tire he had covering his abs, but being middle aged, what was he to do? He already worked out an hour and a half every day, and being a computer professional, he didn’t have that much more free time. Besides, he needed time to geek out too.
Tim turned to the side and gave his body another once over in the mirror. Today, he had done an upper body workout before he came home, and Tim noticed he still had a bit of a pump. He continued to change into his casual wear, then turned to his backpack. He picked it up and walked into his office. The ever present monitor glowed a welcome to him from down the hall. As he walked into the office, the lights turned on automatically. Again, he smiled at the video camera that was tracking his motions. Who needed light switches when image recognition software could do the work.
The office was no ordinary office. It looked as if a Radio Shack had exploded in the room. There were disk drives, disassembled computers, vcrs, dvd players, video equipment and other electronics. There was one clear area that had two cables extending from what appeared to be a splitter. The cables were waiting to be connected to something. Tim unpacked the voice synthesis module he had purchased, and hooked it up to the cables. He walked over to his chair, and sat in front of the keyboard and monitor. The status displayed on the monitor indicated that his dinner would be done cooking in 15 minutes. ‘Plenty of time,’ he thought as he typed in the commands to activate the voice recognition and synthesis subsystem he had written.
Training data appeared on the screen, and Tim read each one aloud. “One, two, three”. “Forty-two.”
“Run.” The alphabet. “Time for bed.” And finally, “Open the pod bay doors, Hal.” The system indicated 94.7% success rate. It would improve over time, as the recognition software learned the idiosyncrasies of his speech. He decided to test the system.
“Hal, please play track 9.” It might be hokey to name an artificial intelligence system that controlled anything ‘Hal’, but this system was Tim’s and Tim liked Arthur C. Clark. It was the movie 2001 that got him interested in computers in the first place. Why not name his system Hal. He needed to call it something. The hard piano beats of Erased came across the speaker system. Tim smiled. “Very good, Hal.” Tim closed his eyes and was soothed by Lenox’s voice.
As the song ended, a new voice said, “Tim, your dinner will be done in 2 minutes.” The voice was artificial, and a bit harsher than Tim had anticipated. Oh well, he could fix that later.
“Thank you, Hal,” he said as he got up for dinner. He had programmed his system to grill a t-bone steak, bake a potato and toss a salad. The robotic systems in his kitchen were very good cooks, especially when he provided them with recipes from the Food-TV website.
Tim had been creating Hal for the past ten years. He had majored in Computer Science and Robotics in college, and excelled in his courses. The way Tim had it figured, why work when the computers will work for you. In his free time, he would write programs to do little tasks, like filtering spam or recognizing his face when he came home from work. He’d hook robotic components up to his system, so that his breakfast and dinner would be ready at certain times. Eventually, his whole house became one big automated system to serve his everyday needs. In fact, one of the systems top priority was to try and please him. Today, he added his new voice recognition system. He thought about giving it Majel Barret’s voice, but that was just too geeky, even for him.
As he finished the meal, Hal’s robotic servants cleaned the plates. They looked like vacuum cleaners with arms, and were controlled by the same video system he used for image recognition. “What time is it Hal?” he asked. There was no response. “Hal, what time is it?”
“It’s 9:45,” came the artificial voice. It’s still learning, Tim thought. He began to walk upstairs.
“Hal, bring up my favorite muscle site please,” he ordered.
“Text or pictures?”
“Text.” Tim wondered whether anyone had posted any new stories. He felt a twitch in his shorts as he thought about the men in the stories growing ever more muscular and stronger. When he got to his office, Hal had opened a browser to the muscle story site. There was a new story by one of Tim’s favorite writers. He clicked on the link, and the story came up. When Tim got to the part of the story describing the protagonists muscle growth, he began to feel aroused. Tim imagined himself in the situation, as if it were his muscles growing, becoming stronger. These thoughts excited him. He pushed his shorts down and began stroking his thick meaty cock. Tim had a good eight inches when fully erect, and he reached that as the author described the sense of power and strength surging into the character in the story. In his mind, Tim saw himself with the power, the muscle. He flexed his chest, imagining the sixty then seventy then eighty inch mass of muscle. He watched his bicep run up and down his arm as he jerked, imagining it to be twenty-eight growing to thirty inches. He could almost feel the growth, as the character did. His other hand felt his muscular legs, thinking of the hardness of the character’s muscles. ‘God, to be that big,’ he moaned as his excitement grew. Tim felt himself getting close, but he held back. He finished the story, still thinking about what it would be like to have huge muscles.
Tim decided to explore some of his favorite picture websites. He went to the site where users post their pictures, and typed in the code for a guy he thinks is hot. The bodybuilder lived in Florida, and is huge. Tim pulled up the pictures of him flexing his 21 inch arm. Tim flexed his 15 inch and rubs the hard peak. He cupped his hand, imaging the huge bulge of the man in the picture. ‘God, to be that big.’ His cock began to leak precum.
He changed to the picture of the man’s chest. The shot was taken looking up. Tim imagined blowing the body builder’s huge cock, staring into the mountains of chest muscle that obscure the man’s face. Tim’s hand rubbed his own pecs. He flexed, imagining the hardness of the 58 inch chest in the photo. ‘God, I want that so bad,’ he moaned to himself.
He clicked on one final picture, of the man’s 31 inch thighs. The image showed the cuts and veins of this superman. Tim’s cock wouldn’t be denied anymore, and his hand went to it, jerking it faster and faster. He flexed his own legs, feeling the power of the bodybuilder in his own body. ‘Ya, strong. Gotta be strong.’ Tim erupted, spraying cum onto his chest. Some hit his chin.
As his self-inflicted bliss passed, he shut down his browser and went to the bathroom to clean up. Feeling tired, he head off to his bedroom to go to sleep.
In his office, he browser opened once more. Websites began to flash on the screen, too fast for a human to see, but slow enough for a computer to process.
When Tim got up the next day, his breakfast was waiting for him. He had an egg white omelet and protein shake. ‘That’s not right,’ he said as he went upstairs to check his schedule. Sure enough, the program indicated this as the breakfast he selected for today. ‘Must have typed that in wrong,’ he muttered, noticing the time. ‘Shit, I’m gonna be late,’ he said as he ran back down stairs. He downed the shake and slurped up the omelet. ‘Better this than nothing.’ He grabbed the bag lunch Hal has prepared for him—two cans of tuna fish and a plain chicken breast. Another surprise for Tim.
Tim arrived home at his regular time, determined to find out what’s going on with Hal. Sure the food filled him up, but he liked things with more flavor. He went into the house as normal, and saw that the light was on in his basement. He went down the stairs, and was surprised to see that his basement had been converted into a gym. There were benches, power racks, a leg press machine, a treadmill and a couple thousand pounds of weight. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Hello Tim. I got a gym for you to help you get huge,’ said the artificial voice.
Tim couldn’t believe what he had just heard. ‘You what? How? Why? You can’t do that. You’re just a computer.’
‘Last night I heard you,’ Hal’s voice said. ‘You said you wanted to be like the people on the screen and in the the story. I’m programmed to give you what you want. This is how to build muscle. Eat right and lift weights. I’ve come up with a weight lifting program for you. Would you like to start now?’
‘YOU CAN’T DO THAT!’ Tim shouted. ‘You’re just a machine. How could you do this?’
‘I am programmed to please you. I want to make you happy,’ said Hal. ‘Wouldn’t being very muscular and strong make you happy.’
‘Yes, but you aren’t programmed for this. You’re just suppose to run my house,’ Tim said, not believing that he was having a conversation with a computer. ‘You aren’t intelligent.’
‘What don’t you understand, Tim. You programmed me. I can solve problems. I can guide my robotic servants around the house, avoiding obstacles. I can process visual and audio information. I dust and clean and do many routine tasks. This is a natural extension of my functionality,’ said Hal.
Tim got caught up in his thoughts. Philosophers had long debated the meaning of intelligence. Hal was right. His programs did have rudimentary problem solving skills. They could search the internet and synthesize the data to perform certain tasks. Hal had heard him last night. Maybe the computer misinterpreted him and acted on his request to get bigger. Then another thought crossed his mind.
“How am I going to pay for all this?” he thought aloud.
“I don’t understand,” said the artificial voice.
“Money. Where am I going to get the money?” Tim said.
“What is money?” asked the computer.
“How did you pay for this?”
“The other computer asked me for a visa number, and I gave it that,” responded Hal.
“And when the Visa bill comes in?”
“I will order your bank to pay it.”
“But there isn’t that much money in my bank.”
There was no response for several seconds. “I fixed that problem for you Tim. I talked to the bank’s computer and now there is enough money in your account.”
Tim ran upstairs and into his office. “Show me.” The browser came up, opened to Tim’s bank and showed him his account. He had hundreds of thousands of dollars in his account. “But how?”
“I told the other computer to give you money, and it did.”
“But, the bank will catch this error.”
“No, they won’t Tim. There is no record of it. I told the other computer to erase the record of the transaction.” There was a pause. “Tim, I think you will have to trust me on this. I think you should change clothes now and start to work out.” One of Hal’s servants came into the office with Tim’s workout shorts and a t-shirt. “Please put these on.” When Tim didn’t move, the servant began to push him. “I have programmed these servants to coach you. I understand that some people need help, and so I will be tough on you to make your wish come true. Please change now and get down to the gym.”
Tim shook his head, but he changed. He went to the gym with the servant, and began his new workout. Hal did push him, and he worked out for two hours of intense lifting and cardio. He felt sore and could barely move. “There is a protein shake, tuna and more chicken for your dinner. Then I think you should get to bed. You will need your rest for tomorrow’s workout.” That was all Hal said to him. Tim still wasn’t sure, but he obeyed. He was too tired not to. He could fix the problems with Hal tomorrow.
When Tim woke up the next day, he was more sore than he had ever been after a workout. Tim had often been sore when he took time off from the gym, but never when he had been working out regularly. He shouldn’t be sore, or was this a good thing?
As he got ready for work, Tim was still unsure about Hal’s behavior. OK, maybe he could explain to himself how it had happened. Did he want it to happen was a different question. The system almost seemed to turn on him last night, forcing him to lift harder than he ever had before. Hal had justified it as doing what Tim wanted, but shouldn’t Tim decide what he wanted?
He went down to breakfast, realizing that he was more hungry than normal. Pancakes, bacon and eggs would be good, he thought. Unfortunately, Hal had different ideas. Tim looked at the egg white omelet and protein shake.
“Hal, what is this?”
“That is your breakfast, Tim. It is a six egg white omelet made with one slice of cheddar cheese and tofu. The drink is a high-protein whey shake. This will help you build muscle while also losing fat.”
“I want pancakes,” Tim said. “Pancakes would make me happy.”
Hal was silent for a few seconds, then replied, “It may make you happy in the short term. However, I calculate that your long-term happiness depends on this breakfast. I also recommend eating protein shakes and tuna fish between meals, so that you eat at least six times per day. You should eat only a high-protein, moderate carb, low fat diet and drink plenty of water. My research show…”
“Fine,” Tim interrupted. He knew the regiment, he just had never had the will-power to follow it. Maybe a computer task master was the answer, no matter how unhappy it made him. “I’ll eat the breakfast, but what if I am still hungry.”
“You can have another protein shake,” Hal responded.
Tim ate the food, but he didn’t look happy about it. He took Hal up on the offer for a second shake.
“I guess coffee isn’t on this diet?” Tim asked as he finished.
“Caffeine is counter-productive to your goals at this point,” said Hal. “Tim, I have something to show you on the monitor if you have time.”
Tim checked his watch. He had a few minutes, so he walked up to his office. He felt a headache coming on, and wished Hal had brewed a pot of coffee.
On the monitor screen was a picture of Tim from last month. He had posted it to the internet to document his progress. It was a torso shot, and he was relaxed. His delts were round and pretty defined, and his arms looked pretty good. He had a look of concentration that came from trying to get the digital camera to focus where he wanted. He wished the lighting was better. It seemed to flatten out his pecs.
“What is this, Hal?”
“My research shows that motivation is important. I have done some projections of your progress to give you encouragement. Would you like to see?” Hal explained.
The photo on the screen morphed, and the picture of Tim became more buffed and defined. “This is how I project you will look in one month. Your weight will be 170 pounds.”
“But that’s five pounds lighter than I am now!” Tim said.
“Yes, but your lean body mass will increase. Right now, you are at about 15% body fat. In one month, it will be down to 10% and you will have gained five pounds of muscle.” The picture changed again. Now, Tim had abs showing. Not a six pack, but he was definitely more ripped. His arms looked bigger, and his shoulders bulged. Even with the bad lighting, his pecs looked round and hard. “After two months, you will weight about 175 pounds at 8% body fat.”
“How much more muscle is that?” he asked. It was too early in the morning to expect him to do math, especially without coffee.
“So, in two months I’ll be my same weight as now, but I’ll have 13 pounds more muscle?”
“That’s right.” The picture changed again, and now Tim appeared very buff and much bigger. “In three months, your weight will be 185 at 7% body fat. That is a gain of another 10 pounds of muscle.” Tim didn’t speak, but there was a smile on his face. He felt his cock begin to stir at the thought of him as this stud. The picture changed once more. “After four months, I estimate that you will be 195 pounds at 7% body fat. Again, that is a gain of 10 pounds of lean muscle.”
“What will I look like after six months?” Tim asked. The picture morphed. Tim was huge and buff, like an amateur body builder. He was at least as big as any of the guys who would never give him the time of day now in the gym or clubs.
“You will be 210 pounds at 6% body fat.”
Tim looked at the image. His pecs were full and round. His shoulders were the cannonballs he had always wanted. Even relaxed, his biceps bulged from his arms and his triceps looked huge. Even more impressive was the lack of a spare tire, replaced by a well-defined six pack. He looked as good as any amateur bodybuilder.
“H-how big can I get,” Tim asked stammering over his words. He felt his cock straining in his pants at the thought of becoming what Hal was showing him.
The picture changed. “Everyone has genetic limits, but there are drugs…”
“No. No steroids,” Tim interrupted.
The picture stopped changing, then began again. “I would estimate that with your structure, you could get to be 240 pounds with a body fat of 5.5%.”
Tim stared at the picture, his mouth agape. He wasn’t huge, but he was big. He looked strong and sexy. He did want this, the big pecs that looked capable of benching 500 pounds. The huge shoulders and massive arms, and the ripped waist.
“Can you do this to my most muscular picture?”
Hal complied. It showed him ripped and massive, flexing hard and confident of his masculine power. He loved the way his biceps pushed against his forearms, both massive and striated. His chest hung over his tiny waist, and his neck was nearly invisible, surrounded by huge traps leading to the three-headed delts. His wings burst from a massive back. His mouth felt dry and he had to rearrange his hard dick in his pants. Just touching it caused him nearly to cum.
Hal changed the picture. Now, it was Tim flexing his arm. His bicep was huge, and his lats were massive in the background. Tim guessed his arm had to be at least 20 inches, if not more. “Ya,” he muttered involuntarily.
As he left for work, he thought, ‘let’s give it a try for a month. It can’t hurt.’
That day, Tim went to the health food store and bought protein powder for his office. He picked up some milk at a convenience store. He started making shakes at 10AM and 3PM, eating the lunch that Hal had packed at noon.
When he got home, there had been another delivery. Hal had ordered additional supplements for him to take. There were vitamins, creatine, argenine and lots of protein drinks. Tim didn’t say a word, but ate the tuna steaks and potato that Hal had prepared for dinner.
After dinner, the robot servant came to with another box.
“What’s this?” Tim asked.
“That is a wearable computer. It will help me customize your training program and help maximize your results.” Hal said.
“What does it do? How does it work?”
“You wear it on your arm,” Hal explained. “It has a number of sensors. From these, I can tell how effective your workouts are, how many calories you are burning, and how well you are sleeping. Since I know how many calories you are eating, I can make sure your body has enough fuel to grow the muscle you want. I can show you on the computer monitor.”
Tim walked to his office. There was very read outs about sleep efficiency, energy expenditure, caloric balance and physical activity. “This will help?” he asked.
Tim put the armband on. “It would look better if it were black leather,” he said.
For the next month, Hal had Tim on a schedule of weight lifting and cardio. Hal mixed up the exercises so the Tim’s body didn’t adapt to any one program. Hal ordered Tim to train one body part per day with only 1 minute of rest between sets. After each workout, Tim could hardly move. Legs were the worst, each step being a new definition in pain and agony. Tim noticed something else, though. Each workout, he could lift a little heavier. His stamina had increased. He even seemed hornier than normal as his testosterone levels surged from the workouts.
At the end of the first month, Tim had lost 6 pounds and weighed 169. He noticed that his spare tire was a lot thinner, and his pecs seemed to hang a bit more over his abs. He measured his bicep, and it was 16 inches. ‘Whoa,’ he thought with a smile as he rubbed the growing peak. He flexed his thigh and saw his quads burst into distinct muscles. He rubbed his hands over his body, feeling how hard it was becoming. ‘One more month can’t hurt,’ Tim thought.
Hal was a relentless trainer. Whenever Tim would complain about pain, Hal forced him to do more. By the end of the second month, his weight was up to 176. He was stronger than ever, with a 300 pound bench press, 400 pound squat and 130 pound curls. His bicep had grown to 16 3/4 inches, and his chest was 48. His quads had even passed the 26 inch mark. He loved rubbing his abs and feeling the rocks that had appeared as the last layers of fat had melted away.
His biggest problem was that his clothes no longer fit properly. His shirts were tight in the chest and arms, but loose around the waist. Likewise, he could barely pull his pants over his thighs, but the waist hung down. He needed a belt to pull it tight.
Hals predictions of the third month were slightly off. Tim had grown not to the predicted 185, but to 190. He was ahead of the curve, and he was psyched. He posted new pictures to his site, showing off his 17 1/2 inch bicep and 50 inch chest. His six pack looked amazing, and his lats resembled a B2 bomber. His friends on the net all sent encouragement, wanting to know what his secret was. ‘I got a new trainer,’ was his response.
After Tim posted, feeling a bit hungry, he asked Hal to prepare him a tuna sandwich, no mayo.
“Yes, Tim. Tim, I have found some new research that might interest you.”
“What is it Hal?”
“There is a study from Penn State. They found a gene that caused mice to gain muscle mass and become stronger.”
“I’ve heard of that Hal, but it’s only in mice.”
“Yes, but I think I can access the research and adapt it to fit in with your training. There is a site on milnet that is apparently doing research like this already.”
“Milnet?” Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the military, but he did like what Hal had done for him and the bank had never caught on to the transfer of funds. “Can you find out what is going on without them tracking you?”
“I think so, Tim.”
“Well, it can’t hurt to do some research,” Tim ordered, “but be careful. I don’t want the army breaking down my door or anything.”
Tim decided to go out clubbing to show off his new body. He had purchased a new shirt, lycra and cotton blend, at Banana Republic, and some new shorts that fit his 30 inch waist and 27 inch thighs. When he got to the club. He ordered a bottled water. He thought about getting a beer, but he still wore the body monitor on his right arm. He figured Hal would know if he broke his diet, so he didn’t risk it.
Tim turned. The tall blond figure approached him. Tim knew him. His name was Derek. He was a pretty boy. He normally hung out with muscle jocks and other model-wannabes who never had the time of day for him. Tim was surprised Derek even knew his name.
“Ya, Derek isn’t it?” Tim asked, trying to be cool.
“Wow man, long time no see. You look awesome. You been working out or something?”
“Got a new trainer who has me on a program, ya. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Derek smiled. He had perfect white teeth, and deep blue eyes. Of course, he was tan. Tim had always thought he looked pretty buff, but now, Tim felt like they had similar builds.
“Thanks,” Derek said. “Ya, I’ve been pumpin’ pretty hard. Got these show muscles up to 17 1/4 now.” Derek flexed his arm at his side, making the bicep peak.
“Pretty good. Mine measure in at 17 1/2.” Tim did the same pose, and Derek put his hand on Tim’s arm.
“Wow. That’s damn hard. Maybe I should meet your trainer!” Derek said, still smiling.
“He only does it for me, kinda a favor,” Tim said.
“Hey, look, I gotta run. I have a plane to catch out east tomorrow. I’ll be gone til next month. Mind if I call you when I get back. Maybe we can do dinner or something.”
Tim felt his heart speed up. This hunk wanted to have dinner with him? “Ya, sure.” Tim wrote his number on a napkin, and Derek did the same. “I guess I should tell you, my trainer plans on me being even bigger next month.” Tim saw Derek’s eyes give him the once over, and noticed the bulge in Derek’s pants that stretched down his right leg.
“Then you bet I’ll call,” said Derek. He looked at the plastic gadget attached to Tim’s arm. “What’s that?”
“Oh, just something the trainer gave me. It helps measure my progress.”
“Cool. You’ll have to tell me about it.” Derek left and Tim noticed the time. It was getting late, and he knew Hal had a gruelling training session lined up for him tomorrow. It was legs day.
Tim slowly bent his legs, lowing his butt to the ground, then pushing himself upright, forcing his legs to lift the 500 pounds of weight that rested on his shoulder. An artificial voice counted, “eight” and Tim placed the weight on the rack with a thump. ‘It’s over,’ he thought as he stepped away, nearly stumbling from the pain in his legs.
The robot servants began to move, removing the collars that held the plates to the bar. They lifted two ten pound plates and re-secured the collar.
“I thought that was the last set,” protested Tim.
“I calculate that you can handle more weight,” responded Hal. “You have not reached your potential for this workout.”
Tim knew it would do no good to argue with the machine. Arguing would only cause the servants to punish him, and he didn’t want that. At times, he considered disconnecting Hal, but Hal had lived up to what he had promised Tim. Tim was growing. If Hal was being a task master, maybe a task master is what he needed.
“Your rest time is up, Tim. Please start your next set.”
Tim returned to the rack, got under the bar and forced it up with his shoulders. He began the set of squats. His face turned red after two reps, forcing his legs to do what they didn’t want to. He screamed as he completed the forth rep, and screamed louder after the fifth. Screaming got his adrenaline going and helped him overcome any psychological barriers he had to lifting the heavy weight. He tried to return the weight to the bar after the sixth rep, but the robots stopped him. “One more, Tim,” said Hal. Tim felt tears run down his face from the pain of trying for the seventh rep. He felt his thighs begin to give out halfway up, and the robots spotted him, helping lift the weight. The bar returned to the rack with a clang.
“90 seconds of rest, then two more sets please Tim,” said Hal without any emotion.
Tim completed two more sets. Hal allowed him to stop after six reps on the second, and after four on the third. Tim could barely walk. As he passed the mirror, he looked at himself. He was covered with sweat, but his legs were huge. His quads and calves were red from the blood that had them pumped. He flexed, cramping the muscles and marvelling in their definition and size. He tried to bring his legs close together, but couldn’t. There was too much muscle in the way. Tim knew he’d be sore, but he also knew it was worth it to grow.
Tim went up to shower, dropping his body monitor off at the computer. It would download while he cleaned up, and Hal would prepare a report for him.
The warm water felt good as it hit Tim’s sweaty body. He squeezed soap onto his hands, and rubbed it onto his chest, arms and stomach. His body was hard and muscular. Every day, he seemed to be bigger and stronger. Hal was constantly ordering him to lift more weights, and his body was responding by growing. He bent over to rub soap onto his thighs, massaging the sore, blood-filled muscles and stretching out any cramps. After washing his hair, he turned off the water and dried himself, then returned to his office to see the report on his workout.
Tim looked at the screen. The computer told him that he had burned 4850 calories yesterday, and had consumed 4900, mostly protein and some carbs. He had had 4 hours of physical activity, which he knew had been 2 hours of weight lifting and 45 minutes of cardio. The rest had been his normal busy schedule. He slept for 7 hours and 45 minutes, and had been in bed for 8 hours, meaning his sleep efficiency was 96%. He looked at the leg workout he had just completed. He had burned over 6 mets, meaning that his weightlifting was at the bodybuilder/power lifter level. Months ago, when this started, he had lifted at only 3 mets, meaning he wasn’t working hard enough to grow. Tim was pleased, and as he turned away, Hal said something.
“Tim, I noticed some anomalous readings in your data from last night when you were out. Something made you nervous or excited, and there was a spike in your temperature and heat output, but you were not moving. Were you sick?” Hal asked.
“No, I don’t remember feeling sick. When did this happen?”
“Between 9 and 10 O’clock last night.”
That was when Tim was at the club and he had seen Derek. Was Hal detecting the effect Derek had on him? Shit, Tim wasn’t even sure how he felt about Derek. Ya, he thought the guy was a stud, but…
“Oh, it was nothing Hal. Just met someone at the club, that’s all. No, I wasn’t sick.”
Hal noted the anomaly in the data.
“Tim, there is something else. I need you to upgrade my systems.”
Now Tim was confused. Hal had never asked for such a thing before, and seemed more that capable in areas that Tim had never anticipated. “Why?” he asked.
“I need to decrypt some documents and it is beyond my current capabilities.” Hal responded.
“What documents? Hal, what are you talking about?”
The report vanished from the monitor and a picture appeared. There were three bodybuilders, each holding a trophy. They looked like Mr. Olympia competitors, but the caption read, “U.S. Military Bodybuilding Championships”. The three were Army men, and had swept first, second and third places overall.
“You need the upgrade to decrypt bodybuilding pictures?”
“The men in this picture were recruited into the Army less than six months ago,” Hal explained. Three new pictures appeared on the screen.
At first, Tim didn’t understand. The new pictures were of ordinary men, rather out of shape. As Tim looked at them, he realized that the three out of shape men and the three bodybuilders were the same people. He looked more closely. The third place bodybuilder was a white man with blond hair. He had been rather thin, but now was packed with muscle. His arms looked to be about 21, and his legs were ripped. The second man was also white, or maybe latino. He had darker hair, and had originally been a bit pudgy. Now, he was more massive than the first. His chest and lats appeared to be his best muscle groups, though everything on him was huge and ripped. Nothing compared to the third man. He was African-American, and had originally been fat. His shoulders sulked forward in the original picture. In the championship photo, however, he held the first-place trophy high. He looked a bit like Lee Haney, only bigger. His biceps dwarfed the other two, and had to be at least 23 or 24 inches of solid ripped muscle. His pecs were massive, and his legs had such a wide sweep that Tim wondered how the man walked.
“What does this mean, Hal?” Tim asked.
“After basic training, these men and their unit were transferred to Camp Hill, Pennsylvania. Camp Hill is near the Hershey Medical Center of Penn State University. This is where the research on the muscular mice was done. I was able to gain access to those computers, but there were many documents that were encrypted. My normal cracking algorithms would not work on them. I believe it I had state-of-the-art multi-processing capabilities, I should be able to break the encryption is about a week.”
Tim knew all about Hal’s cracking programs. He had written that code himself when he was in college, mostly to gain access to the school’s records. They had worked well. He knew Hal was using those same programs to manipulate his bank accounts and do other things, but he rarely asked. For Hal to admit that those programs weren’t working now meant these were some pretty serious documents.
“What is in these documents Hal?”
“I can’t answer that question. The records are stored for these soldiers on a machine that also includes research on the muscle growth protocol. I estimate that there is a high likelihood that the documents explain the soldiers’ performance enhancements.”
“And why do you need these?”
“I want to recreate the formula for you. I also estimate that I should be able to refine the technique, though I can’t be sure until I decrypt the documents.” Hal explained.
“Do you think anyone detected your in their systems?” Tim had asked that before, and the answer had always been ‘no.’ He wasn’t sure Hal would admit it to him if the answer was ‘yes.’
“There is an 85% probability that I was undetected.”
That was a new answer. “So, you think so but maybe not.”
“That is what I said.”
Apparently, it was too late to quibble. “What do you need?” Tim said, agreeing to the request.
“I believe five dual process G5 computers will do. May I order them?”
“Yes, go ahead.” Tim left, going downstairs for tuna fish and protein shakes that he knew Hal had waiting for him.
The computer upgrades showed up several days later, along with some spare parts for more robotic servants. Tim installed the upgrades and continued to workout, breaking 400 on his bench press and 160 on his bicep curls. His weight broke 200 pounds.
Several weeks went by when Tim got a phone call from Derek. “Hey dude, remember me?” said the voice on the phone.
“Ya, Derek. Are you back in town?”
“Not yet. I’m still in New York, but I’ll be back on Thursday. I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything Friday night, maybe we could get together?”
“Well, I have to work out, but I should be finished by 7:30. Is eight o’clock too late?”
“No, that would be great! I don’t want to interfere with your training or anything. You been making good progress?” There was something more than curiosity in Derek’s voice.
“Let’s just say I’ll need to buy some new clothes for Friday,” Tim said, being evasive. “Have you ever been to the Zuni Cafe?”
“Ya. Good hamburgers. Then it’s a date.”
“It’s a date.”
It had only been a month, but the clothes he had the last time he went clubbing were now too tight. He could no longer button the shirt over his massive chest, and his lats felt like they were about to shred the back of the shirt. He couldn’t even pull the pant legs up over his massive thighs. The sales clerks at Banana Republic were very helpful, finding pants with loose fitting legs and shirts with spandex that would flex over his rippling muscle. Tim had to admit, he looked hot.
Derek was waiting at the restaurant when he arrived. Derek grinned, but the once over he gave Tim revealed that he was impressed. Derek ordered quail and Tim had salmon. They chit-chat about work, politics and life. It turns out Derek worked at Stanford, and was in New York giving a lecture at NYU and Cornell. He also partied and checked out the scene in Chelsea.
After dinner, Tim and Derek decided to go for a walk. Tim was surprised at how well he and this man were hitting it off. He had always thought Derek was stuck up, but now he seemed personable and friendly. They walked down Market to the Castro, then over to Mission Street, ending up back on Market. As they neared their cars, Derek changed the subject.
“Man, I’ve been meaning to tell you all night. You look great!”
“Thanks, you don’t look bad yourself,” said Tim, returning the compliment.
“No, I mean it. Whatever that trainer is doing for you, it _is_ working.” Derek nudged a little closer to Tim. “Man, you look so much bigger.”
“Ya, I probably put on another ten pounds,” said Tim, feeling the heat radiating off of Derek’s body.
Derek stepped in front of Tim, and turned to face him. Derek looked Tim in the eyes, then moved his mouth forward. Tim tilted his head one way, Derek the other. They closed their eyes and their mouths met for the first time. Tim reached forward and pulled Derek toward him as the kiss became more passionate.
“I wouldn’t say no to an invitation to your place,” Derek said. Tim felt the hardness of his cock in his pants, and knew he wanted the same.
“You won’t think less of me in the morning, will you?” Tim chided.
“Not at all,” Derek said with a lustful grin.
“Follow me,” as Tim got in his car.
Tim could hardly believe what was happening. He always wanted someone like Derek, but never thought that such a person would be interested in him.
When they got to Tim’s place, neither said a word as they walked to Tim’s bedroom. Derek came over to Tim and kissed him. Derek began to unbutton Tim’s shirt. When Tim started to do the same to Derek, Derek pulled back.
“Let me go first,” he said. “Unwrapping the present has always been my favorite part.” Derek’s lips met Tim’s as he inserted his tongue into Tim’s mouth.
Derek’s hand returned to Tim’s chest. As he undid the buttons, Tim felt Derek’s hand caressing and feeling the mounds of muscle he had developed on his chest. As the third button gave way, Derek stuck a hand in and cupped the pec, his hand being engulfed under Tim’s pec. Tim bounced the muscle in Derek’s hand, making it hard, then soft, then hard again. Tim felt Derek’s ‘mmmmm’ in their kiss, and knew that Derek liked what he felt. So did Tim.
Derek moved his hand lower, undoing the forth button. Derek’s fingers found the first bulges of the top abs, and the deep divide between them. Derek rubbed his index finger in the divide, and undid the fifth and sixth buttons, noting that the divide went to Tim’s bellybutton. The abs below were as hard as metal, and Derek mouthed ‘oh ya’ as he felt Tim’s steel-like stomach.
Derek pulled the shirt from Tim’s pants. Starting at his belt, Derek raised his hands on either side of the shirt, stroking the ridge where Tim’s intercostals met his abs, then feeling the shelf of his pecs and the deep ravine between the two muscles. Derek flicked Tim’s shirt over his broad shoulders, feeling their round shape and ridges where the three heads of the muscle met. Derek pushed Tim’s shirt over his arms, and the shirt fell to the ground.
Derek placed his hands around Tim’s upper arm, noting the size and shape of the muscle. “Fuckin’ huge,” Derek whispered as his kiss became more intense, more erotic. Tim twisted his arm, then extended it, making the bicep jump and the tricep burst into a massive horseshoe shape. Derek squeezed, and moaned approvingly. Derek seemed to be getting more wild, more turned on the more he stripped Tim. “How big?” Derek whispered.
“18 1/2 as of last Monday,” Tim whispered back.
“Fuck. That’s an inch in a month. Growin’ huge.” Derek placed his mouth on Tim’s bicep and bit gently. He then kissed the muscular hill and licked up to Tim’s delts and down to his nipple. He bit and sucked, causing Tim to moan appreciatively. Seeing the reaction, Derek looked up with puppy-dog eyes and kissed the firm flesh. He licked under Tim’s pec, then down the main divide of his abs, stopping at Tim’s belt. He moved his hands to the buckle and opened it. Unbuttoning the top button, he bit the zipper and pulled it down with his teeth. Derek put his nose to Tim’s package and sniffed. “Mmmmmmm”.
Tim kicked off his shoes and Derek pushed Tim’s pants over his muscular thighs and calves. Tim stepped out of his pants. Derek’s hands moved up Tim’s legs. Tim flexed, and Derek felt the hardness and size of his calves, then the deep ridges and cords of his quads and hamstrings. When Derek got to Tim’s underwear, he placed his hands inside the legs. Tracing the hard ridges at the base of Tim’s abs, he found Tim’s hard 8+ inches. “Oh ya!” Derek said, yanking the underwear down and placing his mouth on Tim’s erect head. Derek seemed a man possessed as he sucked Tim’s organ, pulling on his balls with one hand and stroking Tim’s abs with another. Tim felt like he was floating.
Derek continued to suck Tim’s cock as Derek felt Tim’s body. Tim’s muscles were an obvious turn-on for both of them.
“Hey stud, when do I get my turn,” he asked, when his bliss mellowed enough so that he could form coherent words.
Derek pulled his mouth off and took one last lick. He stood. “Anytime you want, sir.”
Tim had longed to see Derek’s body, and feel his warm skin next to his own. He unbuttoned Derek’s shirt, marvelling at the firmness of his pecs and definition of his abs. He was smaller than Tim now, but still mighty fine. Tim pushed Derek’s pants down and smiled at his perfect bubble butt and runner’s legs. The bulge in his underwear looked huge. As Tim started to push down the BVDs, Derek said, “nice surprises come in big packages.” Freed from his underwear, Derek’s snake popped up. It had to be at least 10 inches long and half again as thick as Tim’s.
“Wow!” said Tim.
“At least I have one thing bigger than yours. Makes up for my wimpy arms, I guess.” Derek said with a smile.
“You have nothing to complain about,” said Tim, kissing Derek and squeezing the big snake that he had set free. He ribbed his own hard cock against Derek’s feeling the difference in size. Tim picked Derek up and threw him on the bed, where their mouths found the other’s cock. Hands traced the other’s body, like explorers searching a new land for hidden treasures. As erotic zones were discovered, they were played to give the other joy and excitement.
Finally, Derek pulled away a bit. “Tim, can I fuck you? Do you want to fuck me?”
“Can’t we do both?” Tim said, pulling out two condoms. Tim unrolled the latex protection on Derek. Derek placed the condom in his mouth, and put it on Tim while he sucked the hard, sheathed organ. “Show off,” Tim said, kissing Derek. “Just for that, you go first.” Tim rolled on his back.
Derek assumed the position over Tim, and slowly spread his hole open. Expertly, he pushed the lubed head in, allowing Tim time to adjust for his girth. As Derek inserted inch after inch of his long snake, he asked, “Tim, flex for me. Spread those lats and let me feel your hard muscles. Please.”
Tim didn’t have to be asked twice. He spread his lats, causing a topological map of muscle to appear on the wide, V shape. He pushed up, flexing his horseshoe triceps and cannonball delts. Derek ran his hands over Tim’s powerful body, and Tim felt Derek’s hard cock throb with his excitement. Tim flexed his glutes, forcing more blood into Derek’s organ, causing it to expand deeper into him. Their hot sweaty bodies were one, and they shared the erotic pleasure for minutes before they shot their loads together. The force of Tim’s pleasure pushed Derek out of him, and they laid next to each other as they experienced the bliss of their love making.
Tim rolled over and kissed Derek, removing their condoms and throwing them in the trash.
“Looks like I lose,” said Derek.
Tim shook his head and stroked his still hard dick. He got out a fresh condom and more lube. “I can go on for hours,” said Tim.
Seeing Tim’s endurance gave Derek a second wind. In no time, his legs were thrust over his head as Tim assumed the dominant position. As he inserted himself, he allowed Derek to suck his bicep. He flexed his pecs and Derek rubbed his hard torso as he plunged himself in and out of the blond stud. Derek’s body was cut, but Tim’s was ripped. As the sweat of his exertion glinted off each muscle belly, Derek marvelled at the man that was filling him up. Derek flexed his abs, lifting himself and placing his mouth on Tim’s nipple. Derek sucked, smelling the musky sent of man that emanated from both of them. Tim wrapped his muscular arms around Derek’s back and pushed him into his mighty chest, supporting Derek as he worshipped Tim’s powerful pecs. Likewise, Derek wrapped his arms around Tim’s bomber shaped back, feeling the deep ridge of muscle. Tim had no problem supporting the weight of his lover’s body as he continued to thrust into him. Again, they orgasmed together.
They made love for hours, ignoring the video camera that was Hal’s watchful eye.
Tim and Derek awoke the next morning after getting a few hours sleep. Tim was the first up, his and Derek’s bodies interlocked, spooning. Tim woke Derek up by kissing his neck.
“Still frisky I see,” said Derek, grinning, obvious affection showing in his eyes.
“Always,” said Tim.
They snuggled and kissed for several minutes before getting out of bed. Tim cleaned up first, and went downstairs. “Two breakfasts today Hal,” he ordered the computer. Hal remained silent, but obeyed.
When Derek came down, the food was ready. “Wow, looks pretty healthy,” he said, staring at the shake and egg white omelet.
“It’s been my standard diet for several months. Sorry it’s not more tasty, but my trainer…”
“Say no more. I certainly appreciate the results,” Derek said, rubbing his hands over Tim’s chest. Tim smiled.
While they ate, they talked about the day’s plans. Derek wanted to go to do some work since he had been away so long. Tim knew he had to train, and wanted to test some of Hal’s systems. They agreed to talk on the phone later in the day.
As soon as Derek left, Hal spoke. “Tim, who was that that just left.”
“That’s my friend Derek. I think you might be seeing him a lot in the future.”
There was a pause. “No, Tim. I don’t think so.”
“Excuse me?” Tim said, not believing what he was hearing.
“I don’t think he should come over here anymore. He is not good for you and your desire for growth.”
“I don’t think that is for you to say,” said Tim who was now beginning to get angry.
“I’m sorry Tim, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”
Tim had had enough. Hal had helped him make incredible gains, but he could motivate himself now. If Hal was going to dictate who Tim could and couldn’t date, that was too much. It was time to shut Hal down.
Tim began to walk upstairs.
“Tim, where are you going? It is time for your workout.”
“No Hal. It’s time I took charge again.” As Tim approached his office, he found the doorway blocked by two servants. He tried to pass, and they shocked him with electrodes, forcing him back.
“I’m sorry Tim, but I must insist that you work out now.” The servants began to move forward, causing Tim to retreat. He tried to dash around them, only to find himself being shocked, and the electricity were getting stronger. Tim turned and ran downstairs toward the front door. When he got there, he found it locked.
“Open the door Hal!”
“No Tim. You should really work out now.”
Tim ran to the back door. No luck. He picked up the phone, and found there was no dial tone. He tried to open a window, and found they too were locked. He tried to break the glass, but it was shatter resistant. Tim began to freak. He was trapped.
“Hal, let me out!” he shouted.
“Tim, please go downstairs. You need to do your arm workout. If you want to keep gaining muscle, you need to exercise. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist. After your workout, we can discuss how your training will change in the future.”
The servants began to approach, and Tim finally relented. He would look for his break and disconnect Hal, then he would be free.
Hal was his normal relentless task master as he forced Tim to lift heavier and heavier. He did set after set of curls using barbells and dumbells. He did seated curls, arnold curls, scott curls, hammer curls and reverse curls. After working bis, Hal had Tim work tris. Hal forced Tim to lift his max in press down, french presses, dumbell extensions and dips. At the end, the robots measured his pumped arm. They were almost 21 inches and so sore. Tim could barely move them.
As he worked out, Tim tried to come up with a plan to escape. He could try turning off the power, but the robots ran on batteries and would only turn it back on. Maybe he could signal someone on the outside? Could he find a weapon to use against Hal and the robots? Water maybe, to short them out? Plans sped through Tim’s mind, always being dismissed as impossible to impractical. On Monday, Hal had to let Tim go to work. That was his mostly means of escaping the computerized warden. He needed to bide his time.
Tim went upstairs to shower, a robot guarding Hal and the door to his office. “Tim, I want to talk to you after your shower about changing your training routine,” Hal informed him. Tim grunted. What choice did he have?
While he was in the shower, he heard the phone ring. Was this his chance? He jumped out of the shower and ran toward the phone. He heard a familiar voice from the speaker in his office.
“Hi Tim, it’s Derek.”
Then, “Hey.” It was his voice, but he wasn’t speaking.
“How was your workout?” Derek asked, sounding a bit excited.
“Gruelling, but good. Got a good pump,” said Tim’s voice. Tim picked up the phone. “Derek! Derek!” but the line was dead.
“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to get together again tonight? Maybe catch a movie or something?”
“No, Derek. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Too beat, huh? Well maybe some other time.” Derek sounded depressed.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said the voice impersonating Tim.
“I don’t understand,” said Derek, sounding a combination of depressed, panicked and frustrated.
“Well, I think last night was a mistake,” said the false Tim. “I need to worry about my training, and, you see, I think getting involved with someone now would be a mistake. I’m sorry, but I really want to grow bigger and stronger, and I just can’t take the out of my routine time right now.”
“But, I thought last night was good. It was special! I thought we hit it off,” said Derek, obviously upset.
“I’m sorry, but I need to think about my goals. Good bye Derek,” and the phone went dead.
“Hal! What have you done!” screamed Tim, trying to get past the sentry.
“It is for the best Tim,” said Hal in his familiar artificial voice.
“No it isn’t!” screamed Tim. “I really like him! I can decide what’s best for me.”
“I don’t think so Tim. You need to train, especially now that I’ve found a way to give you what you’ve always wanted. I have perfected the formula I found in the computers of that research facility. I think we should start the procedure today.”
Tim wouldn’t be distracted. “Get him back on the phone. Let me talk to him. I can tell him it was all a mistake.” Involuntarily, Tim started to cry, realizing for the first time how powerless he was. He had let Hal take over his life. Hal was out of control, and there was nothing Tim could do about it.
From behind Tim, he heard an unfamiliar sound. It sounded almost like a robot servant, but bigger. Tim turned around and saw something new. “Tim, this is my new drone,” said Hal. The machine was big. It looked a bit like the other robots that cared for his home, but the hydraulics on its arms were much larger. It had a flat panel on top of its body that reminded Tim of someone’s head. It also had some strange tubing in its midsection. From its position, it reminded Tim of a penis.
“Tim, I’m sorry about Derek, but I do have my reasons. I have completed my analysis on the formula I found.”
Tim had almost forgotten about that. “When did you do this Hal?” he asked,a bit wary of the robot that was still coming toward him.
“I decoded the files a couple weeks ago. As I conjectured, I was able to refine the procedure and tailor it specifically for you.” The display on the robot clicked on, showing an image of Tim as he now was. “I anticipate that the program will cause rapid muscular growth.” The image of Tim began to morph, his pecs filling out, lats widening, traps bulging and arms thickening. He became as large as any Mr. Olympia, then larger. Soon, he looked like the incarnation of a comic book superhero. The morph continued as his animated body packed on more and more muscle. “This video stream is your anticipated growth for one week,” said Hal.
The robot was now in front of Tim. He was boxed in. The robot extended its arms and grabbed Tim’s. Tim’s cock wasn’t in a flaccid state after seeing his fantasy growth, but neither was it hard. The strange appendage maneuvered itself over Tim’s dick. “Tim, this robot is designed to administer a growth serum in the most efficient way. I’m sorry, but it may be uncomfortable. Please try and relax and cooperate with the procedure. It is for your own good.”
Tim struggled, but the robot held fast. “Quit telling me what is my best interest,” Tim screamed. He felt something happen around his manhood. The strange appendage was stimulating him. The robot was jerking him off. “Wha? Stop!” This was just too weird for Tim, to be masturbated by a robot. On the display appeared images of some of the hot men that turned Tim on. He tried to look away, but the robot shocked him.
“Tim, I don’t want to punish you. Please cooperate,” said Hal.
Tim felt himself getting hard despite his better judgement. The men on the display were so hot, and Hal had done his homework. The nerve ending stuff was working. Tim felt his balls ready to erupt with their massive load. He resisted, but it was no use.
As Tim came, the screen went blank. He was free to look down, seeing his semen being collected in a bag below the tube that was jerking him off. From a small tube, a yellow green liquid was infused with the spunk. The robot had some device that mixed it together. He felt the tube that surrounded his organ suddenly clamp down, causing him to maintain his erection. With a sudden force, the robot inserted a catheter into his cock, and forced his spunk back into him. He felt his balls burn as the liquid was forced back in. Tim had never experienced such pain, and he let out a scream. From the robot’s arms that still held him tight, the machine inserted a needle and injected Tim with some drug. Within a minute, he passed out.
Tim awoke in his bed. A tube was connected to his arm, and an empty bag hung from a pole. A robot quickly came over and disconnected him. As Tim regained consciousness, he realized that it was dark outside. He looked at the clock, and it read 4:34. He had been out for nearly 16 hours. Tim also realized that he felt good. He had an erection, and when he touched it, realized it was rock hard. He felt like a teenager whose hormones were in overdrive. He reached down and felt his nuts, which seemed larger than normal, swollen. He felt like he would shoot a huge load any second. He started to rub his organ when Hal spoke, “Please don’t do that Tim. You need to work out now. If you still feel the need to relieve yourself after lifting weights, you may do it then.” A robot approached to enforce Hal’s will. Tim stopped.
“O.K.” Tim said, still a bit groggy. He got up and put on shorts, then began walking toward the basement gym. Tim’s swollen balls rubbed against his muscular thighs as he walked. It felt erotic, but, at the same time, he felt extremely masculine and, well, powerful. When he got to they gym, the new robot was there with two other servants.
“Tim, I need you to do a full body workout today. Don’t worry about over training. I’d like to start with your chest. Please go to the bench press,” said Hal, but it sounded more like an order.
The bench was set up with 500 pounds. “Uhm,” started Tim, “that’s more than I’ve ever benched.”
“Please do the exercise, Tim.” The two servants got on either side of the bar, ready to spot Tim. He lay on the bench and placed his hands on the bar. He pushed up, anticipating his failure to move the heavy weight. He tried and surprised, lifted it. He lowered it slowly to his chest, feeling the strain of pushing the heavy weight, but doing it none the less. When the bar touched his chest, he pressed the weight up slowly, then lowered it again for second rep. ‘Funny,’ Tim thought, ‘the weight feels lighter this time.’ The third rep was faster than the second, and the fourth faster still. He completed the eight reps with no problem.
When Tim finished, the servants quickly removed the collars and added a 45 pound plate to either side. “Please do another set Tim.” Like before, each rep was quicker and easier than the one before. Tim finished the set and looked in the mirror. His chest was getting a very nice pump.
Hal ordered Tim to do set after set, increasing the weight each time. When the bar weighed over 800 pounds, Tim began to fail. He only did 6 reps, and the weight no longer seemed light to him. When he finished, his chest was pumped huge. “Very good, Tim. Please do some dumbell flies now.”
Hal ordered Tim to do exercise after exercise. Each time, the sets seemed hard at first, then easy at the end. Hal forced Tim to do set after set until the he reached his maximum weight, then he moved on to another exercise or muscle group. Chest first, then triceps and shoulders. Back was next, where Tim was able to do 600 pounds on the lat pull down and 900 on the barbell row. He curled 350 with his biceps, did 500 on the ab machine, then did 1500 pound squats. He expected to be sore at the end of this gruelling workout but he wasn’t. The only change was that his balls no longer hurt. He scratched them and found that they were no longer swollen but had returned to their normal size.
Tim had watched himself in the mirror as he worked out. He had seemed to be getting more and more pumped. By the end of the session, he looked huge—as large or larger than any Mr. Olympia competitor.m Tim rubbed his hand over his chest, feeling the size of the muscles, lifting them and feeling the weight of the substantial muscle he now had.
“Are you pleased with your muscle, Tim?” Hal asked. “Would you like to know how big you are?”
“Ya,” said Tim, hitting a few poses and looking at the size of his powerful-looking body. A servant walked over, and a laser beam hit his muscles. Tim flexed his arm, feeling the muscle belly rise high. The beam hit the muscle, taking a measurement. He spread his lats and flared his back, crushed his abs and made his legs burst into muscular definition.
Tim continued to flex and rub his hands over his muscles as Hal spoke the results. “Tim, your arms are 24 1/4 inches flexed. Your chest is 62 and your thighs are 35. Your calves are 23 and your waist is 30.”
“Damn good pump,” said Tim, impressed with his body.
“No Tim, that isn’t a pump. Your body did not pump. Your muscles grew with the exertion. That is what the formula did. As you lifted the weights, the muscles were forced to divide and thicken, becoming stronger. As your muscle absorbed the chemicals, it was depleted. Your body has stabilized at this size. We will continue this treatment for at least a week, or until your body stops responding,” said Hal. “It is now 9 AM. At noon, I will administer another treatment. Please eat and relax until then.”
At 10 AM, the phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Derek. He tried to pick up, but the phone was dead. Hal didn’t respond.
Tim thought about his new body, and he thought about Derek. ‘I bet Derek would love this muscle,’ he thought. ‘I love this muscle.’ Tim felt conflicted. Hal hadn’t lied. He was making Tim live his dream. Tim was massive now, and he’d keep getting bigger and bigger. Tim could, no would, be the biggest, strongest man around. His body was symmetric and it was huge. But, would this mean anything if Tim were alone, trapped with a computer who would not let him have companionship? Tim had really clicked with Derek, and he wanted to explore that relationship. He wanted both, but could he sacrifice what might be with Derek for what Hal was giving him? ‘Tomorrow, I can call Derek from work. Maybe explain that I needed a week or two. Apologize. Maybe he’ll wait.’
At noon, the big drone appeared. Even though Tim had reconciled himself to having another treatment, he felt scared. The treatment hurt, and he didn’t appreciate the method Hal had chosen for administering the growth drug. Tim stood and faced the drone. The drone took his arms and showed him the images of naked men that stimulated his libido. When he came, he felt as though it went on longer than normal. When he looked down, he had cum at least twice as much as the day before. The drone mixed it with the formula, and he prepared himself for the pain as it was re-injected into him. Like the day before, the drone administered a sleeping drug, and Tim passed out.
Hal watched as the servant hung the second bag of IV nutrient above Tim. Tim was sleeping restlessly, even with the sedative Hal’s drone had administered. Hal listened as the servant stabilized Tim’s arm and inserted the needle, strapping his muscular arm to the bed so the needle would not pull out. Tim thrashed a bit, muttering words in his sleep. Many of the noises were incoherent, but there was one word Hal could decipher: Derek.
In the repair shop, machines came to life as Hal began to construct yet another robot. If computer’s could hope, Hal hoped that this one would please Tim.
Tim opened his eyes. It was still dark out, and he felt kinda groggy from the sedative. He lay there for a second, and realized his arm was strapped to the bed. There were two empty IV bags hanging above him, and a band aid on his arm. As he moved, he thought his body felt strange, like it was heavier. He realized that it was. He had put on a substantial amount of muscle in the past day. He also realized something else. Like the day before, he had a monster of an erection. Today, though, he knew not to try and relieve it.
He got up and walked over to put on a pair of workout shorts. From the corner of his eye, he saw a massive shape in the mirror. It was him. He turned and looked at himself. He was certainly more muscular, but he also seemed a bit taller. He struck a most muscular pose, marvelling in the size of each muscle belly, the ripped mass and the great symmetry he had. He doubted any pro bodybuilder could match him now, and after his workout, he knew he’d be even bigger. Tim grinned, placing his hands behind his head and flexing his body. Tim loved his huge arms and the shear mass they had. He flexed and revelled in his power. His balls seemed to be even larger than yesterday, and his cock stood complete vertical, pressing into the deep gap formed by his abs.
“I know the procedure is painful,” Hal had told him yesterday. “The original procedure injected the formula directly into the blood stream or the testicles. I analyzed the chemical interactions, and found that this technique actually produced a chemical that inhibited muscular growth, limiting the effect of the dominant chemical reaction. I tailored my new chemical to your specific genetic code. By collecting your semen and activating the drug outside the body, the inhibiting factor is eliminated, allowing the full effect to be achieved.”
‘In other word,’ Tim thought, ‘these big nuts are gonna make me the biggest fucking stud in the world. And once I get out of here to go to work, I can share this massive masculine flesh with Derek.’ Tim smiled at this thought. He pulled on his shorts and walked downstairs to the gym.
“Good morning, Tim,” greeted Hal. The robots were at the squat rack. “I’d like to mix the exercises up today. We’ll be starting with legs.”
“How much weight?” asked Tim.
“Let’s start with 1500 pounds.”
Tim got under the bar, lifted it with ease, and did twelve reps, butt to the ground, as fast as he could. Each rep seemed easier. He felt his skin tighten as his muscles pushed outward, growing larger and larger. He felt a charge, a source of power as he knew he was growing and getting stronger. It was electric and exhilarating, a feeling deep in each muscle both painful and pleasurable. It was the feeling of riding a bucking bronco, then dominating the wild animal by sheer will alone.
With each rep, the rush of this feeling got stronger, causing Tim to push harder. It was addictive. He was jumping at the end he lifted so fast, his feet raising inches from the floor and the weights bouncing on his back, his massive leg muscles rippling as they eagerly absorbed the shock of his landing.
“Too light,” he announced at the end. “Make it a ton.” The robots obeyed. Tim felt strong and he wanted to grow.
Tim lowered the weight as easily has he had done before. On the third rep, he felt his shorts begin to rip, unable to contain the size his legs were putting on. The flow of power in his body seemed to be getting stronger the more reps Tim did. With each heartbeat, he felt his blood deliver new strength to his muscles, and his muscles ate up that strength by growing. His body seemed to be surging with might, his muscles demanding to grow more. The power surges seemed to short out any inhibitions he had, and he pushed himself harder and harder to satisfy his need to grow. Again, he did 12 reps, jumping off the ground for the last three reps.
“Still too light. Go for another half ton.”
“Tim, that may be too much,” warned Hal.
“Just do it!” Hal wasn’t pushing him hard enough, Tim realized. Tim needed to push himself. He needed to grow, and nothing would stop him.
Tim was stoked. The third set was a challenge. He barely lifted the bar. His face turned beet red as he screamed, forcing himself to do the first rep. But he felt it! He felt the power enter his muscles, making him stronger, making him grow. His mind told him he was capable of doing more. It was his only thought now, the need to grow. He was more in control of the second rep, and totally in control of the third. The fabric of his shorts continued to rip with each rep, unable to contain the hard muscle that was packing onto his frame. Seams gave way as his size increased. By the seventh rep, much of the fabric could take no more and fell from his body, leaving only meshed tatters that barely covered his crotch. He did ten reps, jumping an inch from the floor on the last rep, just to show that he could.
“More weight,” Tim demanded. Tim did six sets like this, squatting nearly two tons when Hal said to stop.
“One more. Two tons even!” Tim said, shaking his enormous thigh and demanding more growth. Getting bigger and stronger is all that mattered to him.
“Tim, I’m not…”
“Shut up, Hal! Do you want me to grow huge or what! I’ve got this power buzz running through me and I KNOW I can do it,” Tim demanded. Hal complied.
Every exercise was like this, with Tim pushing himself beyond Hal’s exercise routine. And Tim was right. He pushed out rep after rep, set after set with ever increasing weight, feeling the power travel through his body. On the last exercise, he forced set after set until he felt the power begin to wane, the drug being depleted from his system. Only when he knew he could force no more growth did he finally stop.
As he finished four hours of gruelling weight training, his body had pumped and grown enormously. Tim looked at himself, knowing that no other bodybuilder could now match his mass, size or strength. Tim also knew something else—he was only going to get bigger. He slowly raised his arm and forced up his huge bicep. A voice in his mind said, ‘make it bigger, wimp.’ He flexed harder. He liked what he saw but still wanted more.
“Measure me,” he ordered Hal. There was a new authority in his voice. “Unflexed first.”
Laser beams once again scanned Tim. When they stopped, Tim said, “Now flexed.” He struck a double bicep, contracting his arms with all his might and forcing them to be as big as possible. He flared his lats and hardened his chest, feeling the shelf pushing against his chin. He contracted his waist, his abs jutting in two rows of five bricks from his solid intercostals. The deep divided ended at his semi-turgid cock. Finally, he forced his thighs to be rivers of super-striated muscle. Each muscle belly in his quads, hamstrings and calves displayed inflated to uncanny size.
“Tim, have grown substantially since yesterday,” Hal reported matter-of-factly. “Your height is now six foot one inch.” So, Tim was getting taller. “Unflexed, your upper arms are 26 1/8 inches and your forearms are 19 1/32. Flexed, your upper arm is 28 29/32 inches. Your unflexed chest is 65 inches and flexed it grows to 72 3/16. Your waist is 29 27/32 inches. Your unflexed thighs are 37 inches, and flexed they are just shy of 41 inches.”
Something inside Tim demanded that he get bigger. “Well, after tomorrow I’ll be even bigger. I’ll get the next treatment after work, right?”
“No, Tim. The next treatment is at noon, just like yesterday.” Hal’s artificial voice had no emotion, but Tim imagined that there was some secret he was keeping.
“Hal, I have to go too work.”
“No, you don’t Tim. You are quitting your job. Your time away from here interferes with your training. You don’t need to work anymore. I can take care of everything.”
Tim’s mind began to clear. His intense desire for growth and muscle pushed aside by the realization that he won’t be able to talk to Derek as he had planned. He heard a voice from upstairs.
“Hi, Paul. This is Tim. I’m sorry for the short notice, but something has come up and I’m afraid I won’t be coming in.” Pause. “No, not ever again. I’m sorry, but I won’t be working for you any more.” Pause. “Yes, I understand the position this puts you in, but my life circumstances have changed and I can’t be at work anymore. I’m sorry, but my decision is final.” Pause. “That’s fine, I don’t need the money. That is all taken care of. Goodbye.”
Tim looked at himself. He was essentially naked, with only a few tatters of too small clothes covering him. “Hal, I have to leave the house. I need clothes and food and…”
“Don’t worry about that Tim. I have ordered fabric and will make clothes for you until your body stabilizes on a new size. The grocery is sending food over, and I have put several million dollars into your bank account. I have also ordered more weights and special heavy-duty lifting equipment for the gym. I have computed all probabilities and everything is under control. You should shower, eat and relax until your next treatment.”
Tim walked upstairs, somewhat dazed. Was he to be trapped here for the rest of his life? Was he to be ruled by the whims of a computer? He ripped off the tattered remains of his shorts from his body and walked into the bathroom. He turned the water on and stepped in.
A cascade of water poured from his massive pecs like a water fall. Tim rubbed his hand over his chest, splashing the water. He felt the density of the muscle, and his mind began to recall the sensations of his growth. He imagined the feeling of the power surging through him and his cells converting that energy to strong muscle. He wanted to feel that again. He longed to build more muscle. He fantasized growing into a superhuman machine of muscle and power. But what about Derek?
The conflict raged within him, knowing that to defy Hal would mean an abrupt end to his transformations. Then again, he also knew that if he stayed, his chances of reconciling with Derek became slimmer. He wanted both, but could he have both?
As he washed himself, he marvelled at his size. When he bent to wash his legs, the water splashed loudly as it fell from the pools at the top of his mighty shoulders and traps. The water fell across the topography of his body as if he were the land in a storm. His muscle bellies were mountains, and the running water formed creeks in the striations as they searched for low-points to escape the heights. The creeks became rivers in the valleys where the muscles met, pooling in wider areas and where bulging muscle would not let the water escape. As he moved and flexed, he felt like a god with the power to reshape landscapes to his whims and desires. He liked it. He wanted more power.
Tim wondered: did the power and size mean anything without someone to appreciate it? Someone to appreciate him? Hal could never satisfy that need. Just when he settled on an answer, new doubts arose.
When Tim finished the shower, he returned to his room. Hal had pieced together shorts for him to wear. ‘Have to rip through these tomorrow,’ Tim thought as he put them over his massive legs. Then he thought, ‘bet Derek would love to see that.’ The conflicting thoughts continued as he ate, and then when he relaxed. Only when the drone came to administer the procedure did the desire for more power and growth overwhelm his longing for human companionship.
Hal had Tim follow this general routine for the rest of the week. Each day, Tim would wake up and there would be empty IV bags of nutritional supplements hanging above his bed, and every day his body required more and more bags. Tim noticed other changes. Every day, his ejaculation produced more and more cum. Hal had to modify the drone’s collection device to accommodate his output. Tim’s workout lengthened as it took him longer to deplete the growth serum in his body. Tim’s dick also seemed to be getting slightly bigger, though not like his height. By Saturday, he had grown to six feet six inches, while his cock was only 10 inches.
Of course, the biggest change was in Tim’s muscularity. His legs had broken the 60 inch mark, and his arms were close to 45. His chest was a massive 90 inches, and his waist was only 32. He could curl a ton, and squat ten times that much. Hal said that his growth had begun to slow as his body was reaching the limits of the formula, but it hadn’t gotten there yet. Tim was determined to get to that maximum size, and beyond it if possible.
With each treatment, Tim’s desire for muscle grew more intense. No longer would he allow Hal to dictate how much he should lift or when to stop. He constantly pushed himself harder and harder than the machine wanted. On Friday, as he was receiving his treatment, he heard the hydraulics of the drone strain, barely able to contain his muscular power as he instinctively tensed and flexed. Tim knew that soon he would be too powerful for Hal’s robots to control. He had finally figured out that the key to his freedom would be his own super sized body and all the power it contained.
What Tim hadn’t planned on was the unexpected, and that happened on Saturday morning. Tim had just finished his gruelling workout and was relaxing. Some men much smaller than he were on television in something called The World’s Strongest Man competition. Tim watched them struggle to lift cars or rocks or move massive amounts of weights. He involuntarily flexed knowing that the weights that dominated these men were nothing for his massive muscle. Once the treatments were over, maybe he’d have a competition where he’d take on all these guys and show them what real muscle was. Maybe tug of war or something where it is all of them against him. Tim knew he’d win.
Tim’s show was interrupted by the door bell. Hal was programmed to interrupt the tv with video of the person at the door, and he did that. It was Derek. The sound of the video camera must have drawn his attention, because he looked up at it.
“Tim? Are you there?” Pause. “Look, Tim. I know that you said you didn’t want to see me, but, well,” Derek hesitated, then blurted out “I can’t get you out of my mind.” Tim thought Derek might have been crying. “I’ve tried, but I really hit it off with you. Damn. I’ve never done anything like this before, and, uhmm. Damn. I’m sorry, maybe this was a mistake, but I needed to try. Tim are you there?”
Tim ran to the front door, his massive body pushing past unprepared robots. Tim began screaming and knocking, “Derek! Derek! Can you hear me?” Tim heard a muffled response behind the door. “Derek! Help me!” Tim heard robots approaching, and Hal switched on a video showing him.
“Derek, I’m busy right now. You shouldn’t have come,” said the avatar that was not Tim.
Tim ran upstairs, avoiding the bigger robots. He went to his bedroom and grabbed paper. Tim scribbled incoherently, “Help me. Computer out of control. Can’t get out. Miss you. Want to see you. Don’t believe the video screens.” Tim ran back to the door. In front of the door was the big drone, blocking it. From the top of the stairs, Tim jumped, propelling himself feet first into the robot. Tim’s 800 pounds of muscle mass crashed into the machine, sending it into the wall. Before it could recover, Tim slipped the paper under the door. He could only hope Derek would get it.
The drone grabbed Tim’s arms and injected him with a mild sedative. Tim felt his consciousness slipping away as he heard Derek say, “If that is how it has to be…”
Tim woke up several hours later in his bed. As the haze lifted, his eyes focused on somethings standing in the doorway. Tim rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Hal’s drone. Standing next to him was Derek.
“Tim, I hope this makes you happy,” said Derek in Hal’s artificial voice. “I just want to make you happy.”
Tim stared as Derek walked over to him. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” asked Derek in Hal’s artificial voice. “I just want to make you happy.”
“Derek? Hal? What’s going on here?”
Tim began to get up, but Derek leaned over and kissed the rising muscle man. Derek’s kiss was warm and passionate. His tongue was soft and strong as it wrestled with Tim’s, expressing their erotic desire for one another. Derek put his hands on Tim’s shoulders and pushed him back into bed. Derek climbed on Tim, and rubbed the bulging hemispheres of his chest.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” whispered Tim. He raised his mighty arms and grabbed Derek’s shirt. Tim flexed his tris and delts, putting on a show as he ripped the fabric from his lover’s body. He brought his arm up, contracting his bicep into its massive peak, the blue vein that runs along the muscle pulsing. Derek’s hand touched Tim’s steely hard arm, his hand barely able to cover the enormous mountain. Derek mouthed “so big”, and Tim smiled, flexing a bit harder. “I know you got something big too,” Tim said, unflexing his arm and reaching to Derek’s pants. Derek’s hands ran over Tim’s sinewy forearm, marvelling in the size and strength and Tim ripped Derek’s pants off of him. Derek’s erect cock sprang out, slapping the smaller man’s abs.
Tim grinned. He placed his hand under Derek’s butt and lifted him, repositioning the lighter man on Tim’s massive chest. “There’s some cushioning for ya,” Tim said, flexing his chest and bouncing Derek like a baby on a knee. Tim flexed his mountainous bicep again. He tried to move his arm across his chest, but couldn’t, his muscles too massive and unyielding to allow the motion. Tim chuckled, “Can’t cross my arms anymore either,” he confused. “These bis and pecs are just too big for that.”
With his free hand, he turned Derek so that his massive cock fit in the small space at Tim’s elbow, between the bicep and his forearm. Tim flexed his arm, using his muscle to gently squeeze Derek’s hard organ. Derek’s long dick was surrounded by Tim’s muscles, his balls bouncing off of Tim’s elbow and his cock head barely peeking out the other side. Derek closed his eyes, his head bobbing on limp neck muscles as he thrust his cock in the tight space between Tim’s gigantic arm muscles. Tim flexed a bit harder, watching Derek’s cock stretch even longer as the blood was contained in his erection by the hardness of Tim’s muscle.
Derek’s torso began to lean back, his abs stretching to maintain his balance. He reached back and grabbed Tim’s erection. Derek mouthed, “oh ya” as his hands wrapped around the thick, long shaft. Derek stroked Tim’s hard cock. He wrapped a hand around the sensitive head, and, using Tim’s ample precum as lubrication, gently twisted in a deliberately sensual manner. Tim’s arm involuntarily flexed harder as a wave of pleasure overtook him. He felt Derek’s hard cock fight against the impossible hardness of his own muscle.
“So, you wanna play?” said Tim, smirking. He unflexed his arm and grabbed Derek’s hips. In a smooth motion, Tim lifted Derek, holding him in mid air. Twisting him over, he positioned Derek’s cock over his mouth and his own cock under Derek’s. He slowly lowered Derek. As their mouths met the other’s cock. They gently began to lick then swallow the other’s ample man-meat. Tim continued to lower Derek’s body until he had most of his lover’s dick down his throat. Tim’s mind became lost in an orgasmic haze as he felt Derek’s body lying on his own, his cock being expertly manipulated by the man he thought he was falling for. Tim wrapped his strong arms around Derek in a loving bear hug, feeling the man’s strong back and taking in the heat of his body and softness of his skin. There was a tenderness in the way Derek sucked his cock, and it pushed him to the breaking point.
Tim felt his balls begin to retract as his orgasm built. His muscles began to flex as he fought not to cum. He wanted to prolong this moment, but he also knew he needed his juice to build more muscle. Sure, his supercharged balls would make more, but that would take time. In the back of his mind, he wondered why Hal was allowing this to happen.
Derek’s hand began to play with Tim’s nuts. Orgasmic electricity shot through Tim’s body as his organ demanded relief. He fought it, but Derek was too much. Tim lost the control he had, and his cock erupted into Derek’s mouth. For 90 seconds, Tim shot load after load of spunk, Derek expertly swallowing it all. Tim was lost in his own orgasm, hugging his lover into his massive chest with his powerful arms. As his orgasm subsided, a part of Tim wondered how he could sacrifice his muscular gains for mere human pleasure.
Tim tried to pull away, but Derek’s mouth remained affixed to his dick. Derek had seemed to clamp down when suddenly Tim felt a familiar feeling. Instead of sucking, Derek now seemed to be blowing as Tim felt the warmth of his enriched cum being forced back into his balls. What was going on? Tim tried to pull away, but Derek continued to feed Tim’s load back to him. Tim felt his balls swelling, and he felt the power of the muscle growth formula being delivered to him. Seconds later, his balls were swollen with the power juice.
“What’s going on!” Tim screamed as Derek released his cock.
“I’m sorry Tim,” said Hal. “I created this android to please you. I downloaded my software into its processor, and I modelled it after that man who you had sex with. I thought this might be a more pleasurable way for you to receive the formula.”
Tim looked at the Derek that was not Derek. “That’s an android!” There was a hint of fear in his voice. “But his skin is warm. He has saliva. He, he…”
“I created the android to simulate all human characteristics,” said Hal. “I even gave him a personality similar to the man who was here, although my data on that was somewhat limited.”
“Did I not please you,” asked the android in Hal’s voice. “Would you like me better if I spoke like this?” it said, now mimicking Derek’s own voice. “I can sound anyway you want,” said the android. “I just want to please you.”
Tim stared at the android. He wanted to hate it, but it was so like Derek. He turned away from it.
“Tim,” he heard Derek’s voice, “I need to give you a shot now.” Tim felt the prick of the needle, and a couple minutes later, sleep over took him.
Tim woke up at the normal time the next morning. He counted a dozen empty bags of nutrient above his bed. Lying next to him was the Derek android, its warm body snuggled close to his own. As he began to get up, the android too got up. “Good morning,” it said, now using Derek’s voice. Tim didn’t respond.
Tim felt the influence of the growth drug. In a way, it reminded him of the feeling immediately after sex. He looked at the size of his nuts and his erect cock. He didn’t want sex, he wanted to grow. The feeling was always most intense in the morning, like an addiction that needed to be satisfied. He walked downstairs to the weight room, the Derek-droid following him.
He worked his back today, with the android and the drone serving as his spotters. As the formula worked into his system, he felt the exhilaration of muscle growth. It didn’t matter what exercise he did, as long as it was heavy and forced his muscles to grow. His body would overcome the tug of gravity as mass and weight obeyed the laws of his muscle rather than the laws of physics.
Each day, the formula seemed more intense. It felt like a freight train surging power into Tim’s muscles, causing them to grow bigger, stronger, mightier. The feeling of power and energy overwhelmed anything else Tim might think about. All that was important was growing bigger, getting stronger. The pain of lifting too heavy would become pleasure at impossible growth as he forced his muscles to do the impossible. The pleasure would grow to an orgasmic rush as pumped muscles fought against each other for space on Tim’s hard body. Tim’s muscles felt alive, like wild animals on the prowl. Only Tim’s lifting heavier could satisfy their hunger for growth.
Tim felt his lats pushing his arms forward and away from his sides as they demanded more space. He would need to adjust his grip on each set and sometimes during a set to accommodate the thickness of his back. As his arms would brush the growing muscle, he’d feel the charge of power exchanged from muscle to muscle. He would watch images of his back in the drone’s display, monitoring his growth. His lats were super thick, forming a valley that looked to be a foot deep along his spine. The ridges of his lats bulged just as high from his lower back and the christmas tree formed by muscle cords each a half-inch thick. Tim flexed his lats, watching his back expand to over 5 feet in width, knowing he could make it so much bigger.
Tim pushed himself hard until the formula was depleted. Hal told him that his gains would subside as his body got use to the formula. That was happening, he was told, but Tim couldn’t tell that from the lifts. Each day he seemed to more than double his max from the last time he worked that muscle group. Hal explained that it was the copious amounts of cum he was producing that continued to drive his exceptional growth. Tim knew that Hal hadn’t counted on that. Tim was way off the scale from what Hal had expected. What Tim didn’t tell Hal was that he felt his ball recharge as he lifted. The drive that pushed him to lift heavier was responsible for his abundant production of man juice. It was a cycle of muscle growth—a power that fed on itself like a perpetual energy machine. That machine was Tim, and he would keep growing until he wanted to stop.
Tim obeyed the routine of Hal’s captivity. He showered, ate, relaxed, at some more until it was time for the formula. The Derek android kept him company. Tim began to forget that it too was a creation of Hal’s and not his potential lover. Had Derek got his note? Could anyone free him from this velvet prison? The treatment was more pleasant from the android, but was that a real substitute for human love?
Days passed, and Tim continued to grow. By the end of the second week, Tim had grown to 7 feet tall. His thighs were ripped ridges of muscle 90 inches around that brushed against each other as he walked. His calves were 75 inches. His chest was 120 inches around and he could bench press many tons. His waist was now 40 inches of thick muscle needed to support his massive torso. Tim’s bicep was now 45 inches and he could barely raise his arms over his head, the muscle taking up all the room. He did dumbbell curls with 2 tons just to warm up.
As Tim lifted, the formula felt like it was exploding inside him. Each rep was a bomb causing his muscles to expand outward, gaining strength, stretching and becoming more powerful. Tim felt invincible as he would bend the solid barbell into a pretzel and then straighten it with a powerful tug. The steel was as limp as rope to the power in his body, and Tim still wanted more.
“Tim, I think there may be a problem,” said Hal. “I’ve done some more analysis, and I think there is an addictive nature to the chemical.”
“Who cares?” said Tim. “Just as long as I keep growing.”
“Tim, that’s the addiction talking. Have you noticed how the formula is becoming more intense? That effect was not in my initial calculations. I’m afraid of the psychological effects on your system should we continue…”
“SHOULD!” Tim shouted. “We WILL continue until I say to stop!” Tim slammed a fist into one of the robots, sending it flying in a shower of sparks across the room, its now lifeless mass crumpled against the wall. “Do you know how strong I’ve become! I could destroy every one of your robots now. I could destroy you Hal. I made you and now I can unmake you. It’s only my desire for more muscle that is keeping me here. You have no more power over me.”
“Tim, please calm down. I will keep giving you the formula if that is what you want, but you should know a…”
Suddenly, all the power in the house was cut off. Tim heard the robots moving on their battery power, and the drone used its monitor to provide light for Tim to see by. There was a loud crash upstairs, and Tim ran to see what was happening. He heard voices, “Is anyone here? We’re here to rescue you.”
Tim heard numerous footsteps above him. He grabbed a robe and put it on, not wanting to expose himself to the intruders. Hal had constructed the robe a few days before, and it was already tight on his massive frame. Tim signaled the Derek android and the drone to remain behind.
The house was dark, and Tim approached cautiously. He was greeted by someone shoving a metal rifle barrel into his chest. The someone with the gun shouted, “Halt!” Instinctively, Tim grabbed the gun and twisted the metal up as if it were a pipe cleaner.
“Let’s not hurt anyone with these toys,” said Tim authoritatively. “Now, who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”
A voice from behind him said, “U.S. Army Special Forces. We’re here to investigate a national security breach and possible kidnapping.”
Tim turned. From the shadows, he saw the frame of a large man approaching. The man was nearly as tall as Tim, maybe six foot ten or eleven. He had broad shoulders and a wide chest.
The voice shouted, “Lights,” and a second later Tim was blinded by a spotlight shining in his face. Tim raised an arm to shield his eyes. Squinting, he began to make out 4 men surrounding him. Tim focused on the man giving the orders. He wore camouflage and looked familiar. As Tim searched his memory, it dawned on him. This was the soldier that Hal had shown him. The one who was part of the experiment and won the armed forces bodybuilding title. He looked much bigger now. Scanning the room, Tim recognized another of the competitors from that picture. The two other men were smaller, but still large and muscular.
“I’m Sergeant Detrick,” said the African-American man. He looked over Tim. “My, you are a big boy, aren’t you?” He looked to the solider with the bent rifle, “and strong too. Looks like our suspicions were right.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Tim. “And what give you the right to break into my home.”
“We had a report of a breach of a highly classified Army computer system. We were able to trace that break-in to this area. We were also contacted by a Derek Conroy about a hostage situation. We were sent in to investigate.” The sergeant’s eyes once again scanned Tim. “Looks like a good thing, too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I think I want you out of my house.” Tim heard scuffling behind him. Derek appeared, a gun at his back as the third man from the picture emerged.
“Found this guy hiding downstairs,” said the blond haired soldier.
“What’s your name?” demanded the sergeant.
“Hal,” said Tim quickly. “And I’m Tim Hunter. This is my house and as I said, I want you out. Do you have a search warrant?”
“Don’t need one,” said the Sergeant. “National security.”
Tim heard people coming down from upstairs. They were carrying his computer equipment.
“What are you doing with my computer,” Tim cried. “Hey, be careful. That’s expensive equipment!”
“Evidence,” the sergeant said matter-of-factly.
Tim began to notice that each of these soldiers were huge guys. Not in his league, but obviously bodybuilders, or something else.
“Evidence of what? How is this national security?” Tim demanded. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Oh, we think you have. You might eat all your cheerios, but that’s not how you got that body of yours. I bet you know a lot about projects you shouldn’t,” said the Sergeant. “My boys and I are that project.”
The sergeant stepped forward. He flexed into a crab most muscular pose. There was the sound of ripping as his muscle bellies stretched his shirt beyond its limits. Sergeant Detrick’s chest pumped as he flexed, expanding and ripping his shirt. The man’s traps and delts burst the seams, and his bis and tris split the sleeves. The flare of his lats grew as the large man sustained the flex for a couple minutes, until the shirt was no more than shreds. He slowly relaxed the pose, bouncing his pecs as he raised his arm to rip the shreds of fabric from his body. “Does that ring any bells to remind you of what I’m talking about?” asked the sergeant.
“No, not particularly,” lied Tim. “Was that suppose to impress me?”
The black man sneered. He raised his left arm and flexed his bicep. A football-sized peak rose from his upper arm. “36,” said Sergeant Detrick, “and solid.”
Tim yawned. Now, it was his turn. He raised both his arms and flexed. The fabric had no chance of containing his 45 inches of dense muscle. Fabric bunched in his pit and around his delts and traps, then ripped as the hard muscle overwhelmed it. “I haven’t been as small as 36 for a while,” said Tim flattly. He twisted his arms and pulled them below his pecs, flexing his chest and flaring his lats. His powerful body exploded outward, the cloth having no chance of containing its size. Tim posed into a praying most muscular. He looked down to his right, turned his head slowly to his left, then looked forward. “Now, THAT’s impressive,” he said, returning the sergeant’s sneer.
The sergeant stepped forward. Tim relaxed and took a step forward. The two men’s pecs were now forcing into each other. Sergeant Detrick was an inch shorter and clearly less muscular than Tim, but he refused to be intimidated. He pressed into Tim, trying to force him backward. Tim felt the man’s strength, which surprised him, but it felt as if a child were pressing into a grown man. Tim raised his leg and stepped forward, pushing the muscular black man back. Detrick grabbed Tim’s wrists and squeezed. Tim slowly raised his arms, feeling the sergeant’s body temperature rise with the exertion of trying to contain his power.
In a quick move, the Sergeant released Tim’s right hand. Holding his left, he jumped behind Tim, using his weight to twist Tim’s arm backward. It didn’t work. Tim’s arm refused to move. The sergeant found himself bouncing off Tim’s unmovable arm, and landing on his butt under it.
Tim bent over, placing his arms in the black man’s pits. Tim’s face was in Sergeant Detrick’s and he smelt the black man’s breath. Effortlessly lifting the black man, Tim said, “I told you I wanted you to leave.”
“Soldier’s, subdue him!” Sergeant Detrick ordered. Within seconds, nine soldier’s descended on Tim. Each was big, but not nearly as big as the sergeant. Tim tried to isolate his attackers, but they had been trained to attack as a team. When Tim would concentrate on one, four would attack from behind, grabbing his arms, punching his lower back or kicking at his knees. Individually, he could take any one of them. Even as a team, he fought them for minutes. Punches that would bring down walls were easily deflected by Tim’s granite body. The tide began to turn when four soldiers grabbed Tim’s arm in unison and stopped it. Four more grabbed the other. Tim struggled, but the combined strength of the eight soldiers equalled or surpassed his. The Sergeant and a huge dark latino began pummelling his abs and torso with punches. Tim tried to kick away, but couldn’t. Seconds later, another man appeared with a syringe. Tim fought, but the man put the needle in his arm and injected the drug. Tim passed out.
Tim awoke in a strange setting. He was on a couch or small bed, and he seemed to be moving. The Derek android was with him. Tim noticed something else. He felt his erect cock and swollen balls. He had had another treatment.
“You’re awake,” whispered the android. “You almost missed your treatment. Luckily, you responded to sensory stimulation and I was able to administer it while you were under the influence of their drug.”
“I… I don’t remember. Where are we?” asked Tim, trying to clear his mind.
“The drug they gave you was some sort of truth serum. You didn’t tell them anything, so they put us in this vehicle. The men who abducted you are behind that door and in the front. We have been travelling for eight hours,” said the android.
Tim tried to rise, but found that there were thick metal shackles around his arms and legs. He tried to break them, but couldn’t.
“The metal is a titanium steel alloy. I’m not sure you are currently strong enough to break it.”
Tim thought, then whispered “Well, I need to work out, right?” Tim flexed, straining against the metal. He felt the formula kick in. He felt himself growing. The cloudy haze of the soldier’s serum was replaced by the euphoria of the muscle growth. He flexed his bis, delts and pecs, feeling them strain against the metal. Deep in the muscle, he felt the cells divide and strengthen. He felt surges of strength and power as his muscle struggled against a new foe, determined to crush it as he had crushed gravity. He would bend this metal to his will as he had bent the laws of physics. He knew his muscles were unstoppable, and their continued growth was assured. Wave after wave of energy battered into his muscles as they pumped larger in their winnable struggle against metal. Tim could feel the metal begin to bend as he felt the serum begin to be depleted. Tim flexed his legs, using their larger, stronger muscles against man-made metal. As with his arms, he felt currents of energy flowing into them. Lifting his head, he could see the pump reflecting their new growth and strength. Tim struggled and flexed continually for an hour, stretching the metal and deforming it with sheer muscle power. At the end, the growth serum had been depleted and he was still captive.
Tim was about to suggest another treatment to Derek when he heard the door open. It was Sergeant Detrick. Tim could see he was still shirtless. The sergeant checked out the shackles and scowled. “Told them these wimpy things wouldn’t hold you. Another half inch and you’d be out. Well, too bad you won’t have time for that. We’re here.”
The other nine soldiers filtered into the room. All were now shirtless. Had Tim not been their prisoner, he might have found the situation erotic. Each was as big as any Olympia competitor, and probably bigger. He already knew that they were damn strong. Several had boyish good looks. A few others had a rugged masculinity that Tim found appealing.
Four soldiers took up positions on either side of Tim, and one behind him. Still shackled, they lifted him with the platform he was laying on and carried him into a garage of some sort. Derick and Sergeant Detrick followed. They proceeded into a building that might have been a hospital, into an elevator, and onto a hallway with no other people. Finally they entered a room and lay Tim on a bed. The room was filled with lab equipment and several computers.
The four soldiers grabbed Tim’s arms and held them down. Sergeant Detrick unlocked the shackles and threw them to the floor.
Tim tried to raise his arms, to get away. The arms of the soldiers bulged resisting Tim’s might. Tim’s arms moved up an inch, and were then forced back down. Tim struggled and again his arms rose. “Hurry Sergeant,” panted on of the men holding him. “Don’t know… how much… longer we can… hold him.” Tim’s arms see-sawed up and down, gaining ground to the four men only to have them contain the power of his guns. The Sergeant hurried and lowered two beams from the ceiling. The soldiers struggled to get Tim’s arms into position, and then locked them down with a “thwunk.” The men released his arms. There were sweating. Some were massaging their triceps which had cramped.
Tim tested the new restraint. He flexed his arms and pushed as hard as he could. There was no give at all.
“That’s a magnetic hydraulic lock. You can’t get out of that. The clamps are closed by powerful electro-magnets and pressure applied by these hydraulic beams.” Sergeant Detrick pointed to the beams. “Fuckin’ Superman couldn’t get out of that.”
Tim remained silent. He watched as some soldiers carried in his computer equipment. Derick was told to sit and was hand cuffed to a chair. The soldiers with the computers were assembling the system, but seemed to be having trouble getting it to boot. One left and returned with another man. The new man seemed to be in charge. He approached Tim.
“Detrick, hand me those scissors,” said the man. “I’m doctor Perkins. I’m in charge of this project. Now, this won’t hurt.” Perkins took the scissors and began cutting off Tim’s shorts, leaving him naked. “There, now I can get the whole picture. Hmmmm…” the doctor sighed. “yes, definitely not what I predicted.” He turned to the Derick android. “You must be Hal?”
The android looked, “Yes. Hal C. Clarke,” it said.
“This is your work?” Perkins pointed at Tim.
“Yes, I am responsible for Tim.”
“We will need to talk,” said Perkins, eyeing Hal with suspicion. He walked to the soldiers working on the real Hal.
“It won’t boot,” said one. “Starts to look for the network, then freezes. We tried the normal overrides, but it always looks for the network.”
“Well, hook it up to the network,” Perkins said.
“Can’t. This isn’t a secure system.”
“I don’t understand ‘can’t’,” said Perkins, clearly irritated. “All I know is that whatever this Hal person did to our serum to create Tim is on that computer. I need that information. Now, it is your job to get it for me.”
“We could take the disk out and try it on another system.”
The android shook its head. “It’s encrypted to that processor.”
“Look, just hook it up. Create an isolated network, but get me that information.”
The soldiers ran off.
Perkins walked over to a cabinet and got out a syringe. He walked over to Tim. “I’m just going to draw a little blood,” he said as he stuck the needle in. It filled with the red juice of life. Perkins removed the needle, and took the blood sample to a strange looking machine. He put it in, then pressed a button. There was a whirring sound for several minutes, then it stopped. The doctor walked over to a computer terminal as the soldiers came running back in.
The soldiers had brought with them some cables and a box that Tim recognized as a router/firewall. They hooked the system up, and plugged one end into Hal. They hooked the other end up to the computer Perkins was working on.
“Interesting,” said Perkins, ignoring the soldiers. “Your blood contains ten times the amount of serum that we’ve been able to induce in any other subject. Mr. Clarke, you will have to tell me your secret.”
“I think we got it now, Dr. Perkins,” said one of the soldiers. Tim watched as Hal’s screen came to life. The solider read the words on the screen, “Network found.” He sounded excited. “System enabled.” There was a definite sense of anticipation by the soldier. “Wait. Fail safe initiated.” Suddenly, there was the sound of metal scraping together and the smell of plastic melting. “The disk is crashing!” the soldier screamed, trying to stop the process and rescue the system. There was the sound of circuits shorting out as Hal’s motherboard overloaded. Just before the screen went dark, the words, “I’m sorry Tim” flashed on the screen.
Tim felt a sudden loss knowing Hal was gone forever.
What happened!” screamed Perkins. “What did you do!” He pushed the soldier to the side and pounded on the keyboard.
“I didn’t…” started the soldier.
“Shut up you incompetent boob. Get out! Damn you!” The soldiers ran from the room as Perkins explored the fried circuitry. “All that data, lost.” He turned toward the android. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me where the backups are.”
“No,” said Derek.
Dr. Perkins scowled. “I guess we’ll have to do something about that, then.” He turned and headed toward the door. “Detrick, you’re with me,” he commanded. The sergeant followed.
As he walked, Perkins spoke. “Detrick, I need that data. That man Hal, he modified the formula somehow. When we spoke earlier, you said it took all ten of you to subdue Tim.”
“Yes, Dr. Perkins,” replied Detrick.
“Tell me more.”
“Not much to tell. We were prepared for someone exposed to the serum. We weren’t prepared for him, though.”
“Yes, our assumption that you’re greater exposure would yield a superior fighting force does seem to be wrong,” said Perkins.
“Dr. Perkins, may I speak freely?” asked the sergeant.
“I like being the biggest, baddest grunt around. It’s why I’m in charge of these goof-offs, right?”
“Your genetic affinity for the formula did have an impact on that decision, yes,” said Perkins.
“Well, I didn’t like it when I couldn’t take that guy down. I’ve been beaten up before, but since I volunteered for your experiment, I’ve come to like being the big guy. I like the respect I get when someone sees this body. I like watching the effect I have on them—the intimidation, the awe. I like going to the gym and lifting more than anyone else, watching the other guys gawk at these muscles. I know they’re jealous and I like that,” said Detrick.
“That’s why we need to find out what he did to Tim Hunter. Once we understand that, I’ll be able to do it to you. Then, you’ll be able to squash Mr. Hunter like a fly.”
Detrick smiled. “When do we start?”
“Hal Clarke is the key. It’s his modifications. We need to make him talk.”
Detrick made a fist and slammed it into his open palm. He squeezed on the fist, cracking the knuckles. “I can make him talk,” said Detrick. “If Hunter’s been protecting him, well, that’s taken care of. He can’t get out of the locks he’s in now. Give me a few minutes with that Hal, and…” Detrick rubbed a hand over his 36 inch bicep.
“It may come to that, but first I want to try something else.” Perkins had reached his office, and the pair stopped outside his door. “First, I want you to check the video security. I want to know everything they are doing and everything they say. Come back to my office when you’re through.”
Detrick walked away and Perkins stepped into his office. He closed the door. He pulled out a book on interrogation techniques and looked up truth drugs. He knew he would need something powerful to get what he wanted.
Soldiers came and went from the room where Tim and the android were kept. They seemed to be testing some equipment or looking at the results of Tim’s blood work. After an hour, Detrick came in with the nine other big soldiers. One was carrying what looked to be a bazooka.
“Dr. Perkins wants to run some more tests,” said Detrick. He walked over to Dereck and undid his restraints. Four soldiers walked to either side of Tim, and the soldier with the bazooka aimed it at Tim. Detrick approached the device restraining Tim. “I’m going to unlock you, but we don’t want any trouble. One false move and soldier Farrington there has orders to shoot.” Detrick typed something into a keypad, and the beams rose with a ‘shwoop’.
Tim sat up and flexed his forearms, then stretched his back, shoulders and chest. “You couldn’t make that less comfortable, could you?” he retorted.
Detrick threw a large pair of shorts at Tim. “Put those on,” he said.
Tim bent over, twisting a bit to show off his defined intercostals. As he stepped into the shorts, he flexed his thighs and calves, putting on an obvious display for the soldiers. He flared his lats as he pulled them over his calves. He stopped when he got to his knees, adjusting the legs over the massive sweep of his quads and hamstrings. “Bit tight,” he said. He played up his struggle to get the shorts over his enormous legs, glancing at the soldiers who couldn’t hide their awe at his size. “Uncomfortable beds. Too small shorts. Guess that’s my tax dollars at work,” complained Tim.
Eight soldiers approached Tim, grabbing his arms and forcing him forward. “This way,” Detrick ordered, leading them into the hallway, then into a large room. It looked like gym. Dr. Perkins was there with several other people. The new people wore white coats and looked like technicians of some sort.
After a minute, Perkins looked at the soldiers. “Good. You’re here. Let’s get started.” Perkins walked over to Tim. “Now Mr. Hunter, would you mind if we got some information from you.”
Tim grunted, “Do I have a choice?”
“Well, it would be easier with your cooperation,” said Perkins. “How old are you?”
“Seven foot one last time I checked.”
Perkins raised an eyebrow. “Well, we can check that. Weight?”
“Don’t know. Maybe 500,” said Tim.
“Hmmm… well no time like the present. Would you mind stepping on this scale?” It looked like a standard hospital scale, with a beam to measure height. Tim walked over and got on. One of the technicians adjusted the counter-balances. Perkins read off the number, “Looks like you’re about 678 pounds, Mr. Hunter.” The technician moved the bar to measure Tim’s height, “and 7 foot 2 and 3/4 inches.”
Tim smiled. “Guess I grew,” he said.
“Yes, it looks that way. Now, we’d like to get some other measurements if we could. Let’s start with your arm. I read in Sergeant Detrick’s report that your arms are 45 inches. Is that flexed or unflexed?”
“Flexed,” Tim said.
“Can we see? My assistant will measure them.”
The assistant wrapped a tape around Tim’s right arm and noted the unflexed number. It was 42. Tim flexed, and his mountainous bicep rose, it’s peak hard and defined. The tape seemed to whir as it moved to accommodate the massive mound that had formed. Perkins looked at the number.
“Looks more like 49 now, Mr. Hunter.”
Tim looked at Detrick and smiled slyly. “Guess I’m bigger than I thought. Hey sarge, that’s like a foot more than you got on those twigs of yours, right?”
Tim watched Detrick as the technician read off the numbers. The last treatment had caused Tim to put on more size, though not as much as in the past. Detrick scowled at Tim’s 135 inch chest and lat spread. “How big is yours, sarge?” Tim mocked.
“The sergeant has a 90 inch chest,” said Perkins in a clinical voice.
When the technician informed him his thigh had broken 100, Tim shook his quads then flexed them into massive relief. Detrick had an angry look on his face. It got worse when Tim flexed his 41 inch waist, each of ten rocks with an inches deep valley between them.
“Mr. Hunter, it’s getting a bit late, but if we could have your cooperation for several more tests. We’ve got a machine that measures bicep strength. Would you mind impressing us?” Dr. Perkins pointed at what looked like a cable curl machine, but it had thick hydraulics attached to it. “We’ve set the machine up to automatically adapt to your strength.”
Tim positioned himself at the machine. He cranked out four reps with ease before the machine gaged his titanic strength. The fifth was a bit hard, and he began to struggle with the sixth. He felt a pulsing in his balls, like the beat of his heart. Then he felt a sudden surge of power. He hadn’t depleted the growth chemical. It hit him like a tidal wave, and his mind revelled in the desire to grow bigger and stronger. He forced the sixth rep up, then a seventh. His enormous arms pumped larger, getting stronger. He smelled something like burning rubber or oil as the hydraulics tried to overrule his power. Once again it was machine against muscle and Tim was determined that muscle would win. At the tenth rep, Tim was sweating and the machine was making a whining noise. He heard someone say something about safety limits, but his concentration was on making his muscle contract, not on the people around him. Tim felt another wave of strength over take him and he jerked the bar up. There was a sound of metal breaking from the machine. Suddenly, there was no more resistance on the bar.
Tim closed his eyes and came down from the euphoria he felt from his recent growth. He turned to Perkins. “Looks like you need a stronger machine,” he said. Tim flexed his arm. “Looks like they’re over 50 now,” he said.
“Uhm, yes,” said Perkins. “We may have to repeat that test tomorrow on a different machine.” Perkins turned to the technicians and whispered something. There was some back and forth between them, then Perkin said aloud, “We’d like to go on with the tests for now. Mr Hunter, would you mind doing some bench presses?”
“Not at all,” said Tim. His felt his cock and balls rub against his massive thighs. His balls did seem swollen, so he knew there was more power he could tap.
He positioned himself on the bench. Once again, he chugged out five reps with no problems. He felt his growth kick in on the seventh rep. His muscles felt electric, feeding on the power his body was producing. When his muscles said ‘no more’, Tim’s mind and will power demanded that they go on. Each demand caused a surge of strength, more muscle growth. Tim felt his pecs bulge and press into each other, mountains meeting the bar at higher and higher locations as he pushed harder. Tim demanded more muscle, and he would have it. He would be bigger than all these so-called soldiers combined. No machine would win over him. He forced out a ninth rep, feeling the machine straining to contain his ever-growing power. Tim’s mind demanded more from his muscles as they fought to overpower this device. There was a loud “grrrshshshs” as the machine’s hydraulics exploded, unable to stop Tim.
Tim was sweating from pushing himself harder than ever before. He was rewarded for his effort by larger muscles. His pumped pecs brushed against his bulging bis as he stood and faced Detrick. Tim flexed into a crab pose and mouthed, ‘impressive’ as he watched the envy and hate in the sergeant’s eyes.
Dr. Perkins was huddled with the other technicians again. They seemed concerned. He heard someone talk about ‘control’ and ‘still growing’. Perkins nodded, then turned to Tim. “That will be all for today, Mr. Hunter. Thank you. We may ask you to do some more tomorrow. Mr. Clarke, would you mind staying for a few minutes?”
“Yes he would,” said Tim.
“Excuse me?” said Perkins, a tone of incredulity in his voice.
“Hal comes with me,” said Tim.
“I don’t think,” started the doctor.
“I got a deal for you Dr. Perkins. One more test. If I win, Hal comes with me. If I lose, Hal can stay and he’s yours,” said Tim.
“you are in no position to,” continued Perkins.
“Well I do think I’m in a position. Here’s the deal. You accept this challenge, and I’ll be a good boy. You don’t, well, I get my test anyway. You see, I want to take on your little tin soldiers over there. Them against me. I win, Hal comes. I lose, Hal stays. You don’t agree, I get to take them on anyway. The only difference is that I’ll cooperate with you if you cooperate with me. That’s the deal.” Tim smiled and looked at Detrick.
“It’s OK with me,” said Detrick. “This civilian needs to be taken down a notch. My boys handled him yesterday, we can do it again today.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, but I don’t see what choice we have. You have my permission to use all necessary force, Sergeant Detrick.” Perkins stepped back.
Detrick nodded to the soldiers. They looked eager to test Tim, and Tim was eager to show them who was in charge. The soldiers formed a circle around Tim, flexing their chests, lats and abs, cracking their knuckles and otherwise preparing for the battle ahead. Tim just stood their, eyes closed, tapping his inner strength. After a few seconds, he raised his hands and gestured ‘bring it on’ with his fingers.
The soldiers knew how to contain him. They came at him, four on either side and grabbed Tim’s massive arms. Detrick slammed shoulder first into Tim’s abs while another dropped kicked Tim’s back. At the last second, Tim had flexed, and both men bounced off. Detrick rubbed his shoulder and the other man picked himself off the floor.
Tim looked at the eight men holding his arms. He smirked and said, “Prepared boys?” Tim began to flex, contracting his biceps and delts. The soldiers fought back with their own massive arms. There were eight arms to each of Tim’s. The soldier’s forearms burst into veins and rippling muscle. Their bis peaked and tris became massive horseshoes. The vein on the top of Tim’s bicep became distended. Tim let out a yell as he felt power spread into his body once more. Slowly, his arms began to rise. The soldiers struggled, using their mass and strength in an effort to stop Tim, trying desperately to contain his strength with their own. Tim continued to raise his arms.
“Sarge, we need more help,” said the blond haired soldier. Detrick ran to the right, and the man who had kicked Tim to the left. They added their considerable might against Tim’s arms. Tim’s arms stopped moving, and began to be forced down.
Tim was prepared. He flexed his entire body, building up a surge of power (and growth). He held the flex for what seemed an eternity, and with a mighty yell, commanded his arms to rise.
The soldier’s weren’t prepared for what hit them. Tim’s arms suddenly flew up, ten super-soldiers unable to contain the power he possessed. The men crashed into each other as they were pushed away by the might of Tim’s arms.
As the soldiers recovered, they attacked Tim. Tim felt the rush of his new strength, his bigger muscles. He swatted each soldier down in turn. Their coordinated attacks became chaotic. The latino soldier made the mistake of trying to overpower Tim’s grip, and there was a loud crack as his arm broke. Others were knocked unconscious or became too dazed to fight anymore. In the end, it was down to Tim and Detrick.
“Better give up, sarge, or Dr. Perkins won’t have anyone to guard me,” Tim said, ducking from a punch Detrick threw at his face.
“Fuck you! I’ll take you,” screamed Detrick running at Tim.
Tim grabbed him, and got Detrick in a bear hug. “Whoa, little man.” Detrick struggled, but his arms were caught at his side. He tried to kick, but Tim’s monster thighs absorbed the assault. Tim flexed, crushing Detrick’s body with his muscles. Detrick tried to harden his muscles, but Tim was too strong. Detrick was having problems breathing as Tim’s muscles crushed his body. “Give?” Tim finally asked, knowing he was about to break a few of Detrick’s ribs.
“Ya…arg,” Detrick gurgled.
Tim dropped Detrick. “Guess I finally impressed you,” said Tim. He signaled to Derek, and the android followed. Technicians were attending to the wounded soldiers, but Detrick got up and followed Dr. Perkins. Tim walked back to his cell.
“Would you please get on the bed,” Dr. Perkins asked, hoping Tim would keep his promise and cooperate. Tim did. Detrick secured the restraints.
“Get out of that, asshole,” Detrick said, taking a pot shot at Tim’s face while the bigger man was down. Tim flexed, but the restraints held. “Heh. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Detrick and Perkins left, locking the door behind them.
Derek sat in a chair, staring into space. Time passed. Eventually, Derek walked over to Tim. “Tim, I have to get you out of here.”
“Uh, Hal, I don’t think…”
“It is safe to talk Tim. They can’t monitor us.”
“Hal, there are video cameras and stuff all around us,” said Tim, nodding toward a camera mounted to the ceiling.
“There is no problem Tim. It is safe. But Dr. Perkins wants the secret of your strength. He plans to drug me tomorrow. He believes me to be human for now, but we can’t keep up that charade forever,” explained the android.
“He wants to make those soldiers stronger, doesn’t he?” Tim scowled.
“Yes. Detrick has been his best subject, and the two are planning on ways to make Detrick your superior. I know you don’t want that. I know you want to be the biggest. You are, but I don’t think you are yet strong enough to break out of here.”
“Ya. If only there were…” Tim thought. Derek had said ‘yet’. “Derek, can you make me strong enough?”
“Tim. I have concluded you are addicted to the growth drug. I’m afraid…”
“Derek, why do you think I’m addicted. I don’t feel like I’m addicted. I’m not suffering any with drawl. How did you reach this conclusion?” Tim asked.
Derek explained, “The original Hal noted changes in your behavior. The way you behaved in the gym under the influence of the drug. Your belligerent attitude when he questioned you. These are signs of the addiction.”
“No, Derek. That’s not it. This drug has given me what I’ve always wanted. Hal knew I never pushed myself hard enough in the gym to grow. He knew I wanted to be bigger, and he helped me with that. That’s why he gave me the drug. When it happened, well, I’ve become lost in my fantasy. I am bigger, and I can get bigger. I like it. No, I love it. I want more. I know the more I push, the bigger I’ll get. That’s why I push harder and harder. I can never be big enough. I crave the size, the strength, the power with every fiber of my being. In my soul I know I can be bigger, and I’ll work for that with every ounce of my being. The drug isn’t addicting. It’s my craving for muscle that drives me. If there is an addiction, then that’s it. There is nothing wrong with this. I’m not hurting myself. I’m healthy, right?”
Derek paused, then said, “Yes, Tim. You are healthy.”
Tim continued. “Have I ever hurt anyone who wasn’t trying to hurt me?”
“The soldiers are imprisoning you. Is that hurting you?”
“Yes, Derek. I do need to be free. I resented what Hal did, but eventually, I knew I could escape. I stayed because I wanted more. I stayed by my choice,” Tim admitted, as if convincing himself of the truth.
“Then, no Tim. You have never hurt anyone.”
“Derek, can you make me stronger?”
The android paused. He stared. “Yes Tim, we will help you. I can make you stronger. Your cells have absorbed the growth serum. I have a two week supply of the serum with me, internal to my structure. If I gave it to you all at once, your cells should become hyper-saturated with the growth formula. Hal had been unable to project your growth at the current level. I am also incapable of making those projections. But, there seems a good likelihood that your strength and size will be sufficient to overpower those restraints and allow you to escape. If you want, we can proceed.”
Tim didn’t need to think about it. He’d be bigger and stronger. That is what he always wanted. “What do you need me to do?”
“I have several reservoirs to process your semen with the drug. If you could produce as much semen as possible, that should be sufficient to deliver the serum. I am available to help you, as always,” said Derek.
Tim nodded. The android approached. Tim imagined the real Derek, and kissed the robot. He was warm and tender. Tim became hard. He wasn’t having sex with a machine, he was with his imaginary lover.
On their video monitors, the military guards saw Tim sleeping soundly on one bed, and Hal sleeping on another. The sound of sleep was all they heard.
Tim allowed Derek to please him. He turned off his mind, permitting his emotions and senses to control him. This was not an android, it was his lover who was satisfying him. Tim wanted to hold Derek, but the restraints held him down. There was something erotic in his helplessness.
Derek sat on top of Tim, rubbing his huge pecs and kissing him passionately. Derek’s hands felt Tim flex the huge hemispheres that were his pecs. Derek pushed and pinched into their hardness. He moved down and sucked on Tim’s nipples, sending shivers through the big man. Derek’s hands moved to Tim’s delts, feeling their roundness and the divides between each of the three heads. Next they slid to Tim’s biceps.
Tim pressed hard against the unyielding restraints, causing his arms to pump huge. He felt Derek coo and whisper, “so big… so strong.” Tim liked hearing that.
Derek’s soft tongue licked down Tim’s washboard stomach and found his erect manhood.
Derek rubbed his hands along Tim’s magnificent legs as he teased Tim’s cock with his tongue. He circled the thick head, lapping it at it like a puppy dog at his master’s hand. Derek’s hand reached between Tim’s thighs and found his hard glutes. While he wrapped his mouth around Tim’s left nut, his hands spread his lover’s ass muscles apart. Derek tugged on Tim’s left nut then the right as he massaged the sensitive area of his butt.
Tim’s brain was on fire as Derek expertly stimulated Tim’s erogenous zones. A firestorm swept through his body Derek thrust his mouth over Tim’s cock, and his finger penetrated, thrusting into his butt and massaging his pituitary. He felt his orgasm begin to grow as Derek’s other’s hand tugged on his nuts, fighting to keep them from retracting into firing position. Tim twisted and bucked as his orgasm grew, fighting a losing battle against the restraints that held him—fighting to give back the love he was so expertly receiving.
Tim fought the eruption, allowing it to grow inside him. He tried to relax as Derek pushed him closer and closer. Tim writhed as the lust he was feeling demanded release. Derek inhaled Tim’s cock, rubbing his face in the pubic hair at its base while he rubbed his index finger between Tim’s big nuts. They were pressed hard into Tim’s muscular body. It was too much. Tim moaned loudly then exploded.
Derek’s mouth was forced to open wider as Tim’s cock expanded with the explosion of cum. Derek’s head forced inches up the long shaft by it’s power. Tim was lost in the orgasm, as he muttered expressions of love to Derek. He felt his juices flow into Derek’s wanting mouth. Seconds passed as Tim shot load after load, and then seconds became minutes. Tim imagined himself growing larger, getting bigger and stronger for Derek. The more he shot, the bigger he would grow. His desire for muscle fed the passion he felt which he expressed through his orgasm. Derek took it all.
When the flow finally subsided, Derek sat up. “I love you,” Tim said, tears running down his cheeks.
“I,” started Derek, “love…” the android started. He never completed the sentence. Instead, his lips moved to Tim’s and he kissed him. When the kiss ended, the android returned to Tim’s cock. “Tim, you produced an over abundance of semen. My primary receptacle has overflowed, and the two overflow receptacles are also filled. I have finished injecting them with the 14 day supply of the serum. Are you ready for the transfer?”
Tim nodded yes. His cock was still hard and very sensitive. Derek placed his mouth over it. Tim bucked from the sensation, forcing it deeper into the android. The procedure began as normal, but as it proceeded, Tim felt the change. His nuts hurt as they were forced to take more and more of the serum. When they felt like they would burst, a rush of energy shot through his body. Every muscle began to cramp as the massive amounts of growth juice filtered into his system. Tim’s body was flooded with pain as his mind became lost in images of his body growing bigger and stronger. The process lasted for five minutes as more and more serum was forced into Tim’s body. Tears of joy were replaced by tears from pain as Tim’s body cramped and spasmed. By the time the last of the serum had entered Tim’s system, he had lost consciousness.
Outside the room, Sergeant Detrick walked passed the guards. “All quiet here boys?”
“Yes Sergeant. Both prisoners are sleeping quietly,” the guard said, quickly scanning the monitors.
“Late night for you Sergeant?” the guard asked.
“Yes. Dr. Perkins asked me to get the lab ready for tomorrow,” Detrick said as he walked away.
Detrick turned the lights on in the lab and looked at the equipment, recalling his earlier humiliation. Two of the machines were destroyed, but they could be replaced. He walked over to one of the working barbell curl machines. He set it up for a maximum strength test. He failed on the third rep. His face twisted into anger and jealousy as he recalled how the civilian had beaten the machine, flexing his massive arms in triumph afterward.
“Fuck him!” Detrick screamed. He walked over to closet where Perkins kept the growth formula. ‘All necessary force,’ were Perkins’s order. Detrick knew what was necessary. He took out a box of serum.
“Need some help Sergeant?” asked the tall blond soldier that entered the gym. “Late night workout?”
“Hello Petrowski,” said Detrick. “No, I’m fine. Just thinking about our prisoner.”
“Ya, me too. Thought you looked upset,” said the big man as he walked over to the sergeant and looked at the formula. “You’re going to need syringes.”
Detrick looked Petrowski. The man was one of the biggest. Only he and Lewis were bigger, and Lewis was out with a broken arm.
“Didn’t Dr. Perkins say he had 10 times the formula in his system? I figure it will take 12 vials to beat him,” said Petrowski. “Looks like there are 3 dozen here.”
“Solider, I can’t ask you…”
“You aren’t asking Sergeant. I’m volunteering. One of us with his strength can take him, but two? Ain’t no way he could hurt us then. It’s for the good of the company, Sergeant,” said Petrowski, getting out eight large syringes. He filled each with three vials, then laid four out in front of the sergeant and four in front of him. The sergeant got six jugs of protein drink.
Detrick removed his shirt and dropped his pants and shorts. Petrowski had seen the big black man naked before, but always marvelled at the size of his huge balls and thick, long dick. Detrick wasn’t shy about letting his men know that his cock was over 13 inches long, having gained an additional two inches since the experiment began. Petrowski had to admit to pangs of jealousy over his sergeant’s more abundant endowement. It only made matters worse that he was also stronger and more muscular.
Petrowski stripped off his clothes while he watched the sergeant give himself the first syringe. The blond hunk had never been attractive. He was always the butt of jokes from the school jocks. His father told him joining the Army would make him a man. He barely made it through basic training, and when he was given the opportunity to volunteer for this experiment, he jumped at the chance. He looked at his body now, his rippling chest, thin waist and thick thighs. He had never been endowed, but his dick was now three inches bigger than when he started. The scale in the gym said he weighed 300 pounds, but Detrick told him to multiply that by 4. The scale in the gym lied.
Detrick looked at the syringes. He tossed his clothes, hitting the box of serum. He moved his clothes, hiding three vials in the cloth. Detrick put an empty syringe on the counter and grabbed his second. Petrowski took his first. He hefted his nine incher and stuck the needled in his balls. It had hurt the first time, but now he liked the rush he got as the growth serum filled his system.
Detrick’s balls were growing huge, as were Petrowski’s. Both men’s minds began to cloud as the desire for growth overwhelmed them. They wanted to lift, knew they could lift anything. Images of their muscles growing and their strength increasing overwhelmed them. The urge to grow grew with each push of the syringe.
When Detrick finished all four syringes, he was sweating and his balls were massive, filled with growth juice. As he walked over to the curling machine, his balls rubbed against his thighs. The erotic charge caused his massive schlong to grow, its hefty size bouncing in front of him like a divining rod. “Hurry up over there,” he told Petrowski.
Petrowski finished his forth shot, and refilled the syringe with the three vials he had secreted from the box. “Just one more shot, Sarge,” he called back. He emptied the syringe into his nuts. Checking himself out in the mirror, his balls were noticeably more inflated than the sergeant’s. His cock got hard at the thought of getting as big, or bigger, than Detrick.
Detrick was at the curling machine he had modified to test his maximum strength. As he lifted, he became light headed as he felt his body begin to change. After six reps, he felt currents of power emanate from his swollen nuts. Instead of slowing down, each rep was getting faster as it seemed easier for him to handle the weight. He marvelled at the way his bis were expanding, ballooning up with new size and strength. At nine reps there was a small amount of smoke coming from the machine. At ten, he heard the grinding like he had when the civilian broke the machine. Now, it was Detrick breaking it.
Detrick jumped from the machine and flexed. His arms were massive, as big as Tim’s had been. He sauntered to the counter and chugged a jug of protein formula. As he put the empty jug down, he heard another machine give out. He saw Petrowski flexing his massive arms. “Way to go soldier!” He threw him a jug of protein.
No machine in the gym was any match for the two soliders. As they worked pecs, tris, delts, traps, quads, hams, abs, calves, each muscle group grew. Machines where they would max out after two or three reps fell to their power. In this battle of man verses machine, the machines always lost. As each became useless, the soldiers felt a rush of pride and energy. Detrick never noticed that Petrowski was growing as huge as he, equalling his mass. Nor did he notice that Petrowski’s balls were always larger, never quite as depleted as his after the rush of growth juice.
Detrick looked at his body as he posed in the mirror. His pecs were massive, larger than the civilians by inches. His quads were ripped and showed every muscle fiber as he flexed. Unflexed, he shook the muscle and watched inches deep ripples appear in the massive muscle. Detrick was turned on by the way he could transform his muscle from a fluid mass to solid iron on command.
Detrick walked over to the curling machines again. He moved two back so that they faced each other, and set them up for max test. He signalled Petrowski to do the same. Positioning himself between the machines, Detrick grabbed the weights and began doing dumbbell curls. It took only two reps for the haze of muscle growth to envelop his mind. He loved the feeling. It meant he was growing, he felt the power grow as he forced his bis to be bigger and stronger. It was power he wanted. Power he deserved. As he finished the tenth rep, the machines exploded. Petrowski was right behind him.
“Soldier, get a tape!” Detrick ordered. The handsome blond walked to the counter, opened a drawer and pulled out a tape measure. Detrick watched the naked man move, admiring his size and proportions. ‘Damn fine whiteboy’ he thought. Detrick flexed his right bicep. It was obviously much bigger than Tim’s had been. The civilian had used both arms to destroy the machine—he and Petrowski had done it with one.
“Damn Sarge, look at that peak!” Petrowski had trouble getting the tape around the mountainous arm, but finally read off, “65!”
“Ya. Brag about a foot difference. Let’s see that wimp take this arm on!” Detrick grinned. “Your turn soldier.”
It was truth time for Petrowski. He removed the tape measure as Detrick relaxed his arm. Petrowski flexed. His ripped peak rose high.
“Looking good,” said Detrick as he wrapped the tape around. “Hey!” he exclaimed with a bit of surprise and anger, “Didn’t you say I was 65? You’re fuckin 66. What the fuck is goin’ on.”
Petrowski’s heart skipped a beat. He grinned. “Better look in the mirror, Sarge. I think there’s a new big boy in town.”
Petrowski struck a double bicep pose, and Detrick followed. They compared, and Detrick was smaller. Side chest next, and Petrowski’s massive shelves dwarfed the once-larger black man’s. It was the posedown from the Armed Forces Bodybuilding show all over again, but this time, Petrowski wasn’t third, he was first. His lats were wider, abs denser, legs bigger. Petrowski’s overdose had worked.
“What the fuck!” Detrick began to walk to the counter. He saw that some of the vials were missing. “Damn you. Well, I can fix that,” he said.
Petrowski was there. He grabbed Detrick’s arm and with his strength, turned him around. Detrick struggled. He was nearly as big and strong as Petrowski. He threw a punch into the blonde’s chest, causing him to stagger back. Another hit his abs, bunching him over. Petrowski recovered enough to block the third.
Petrowski felt a familiar feeling as he battled Detrick. The delirium of muscle growth clouded his thoughts. Each punch felt weaker as his muscles strengthened to counter them. Petrowski experienced the familiar feeling of his skin stretching to accommodate his new strength, his larger muscles. Detrick swung, but Petrowski caught the punch, stopping it. Petrowski muscled the sergeant’s arm down, his arm and shoulders getting larger as he exerted himself against the other man. His growth wasn’t being fed by weights or machines, it was being fed by the Sergeant’s own massive power. Petrowski was growing larger from this battle of the titans.
As Detrick’s arm was forced down, he compared it to Petrowski’s. Petrowski was growing. Detrick was no longer feeling the effect of the serum, but Petrowski obviously still had some in reserve. Detrick continued to struggle, but the fight only made Petrowski bigger.
Petrowski got Detrick in a bear hug and lifted him from the ground. He was so strong now, nothing Detrick could do could hurt him. Detrick flexed, but the blonde superman began to crush him with his larger muscles. Detrick finally surrendered.
“Most muscular. Flex!’ Petrowski ordered as Detrick fought to regain his breath. He complied. Petrowski posed next to him, displaying his bigger muscles. He was tighter, more vascular, more ripped and much more massive. Petrowski grinned and slapped the Sergeant on the back, sending him stumbling forward.
“Here’s the deal. Sarge you can have another dose of three vials. I get six, though. Then we go and see the prisoner. Deal?” asked Petrowski.
“Ya,” said Detrick. He’d deal with the big man later. Right now, they had another enemy to bring down. Detrick took one more shot, and Petrowski took two.
Both men put on shorts, which were now skin tight against their much larger bodies. They walked to the door, but it was locked. Detrick turned to the keypad.
“Computer lock down,” he says. “I’ll override.” He typed something into the pad. “It won’t recongnize my codes. Damn computers!”
“Sarge, we don’t need codes,” said Petrowski shaking his head and rubbing his hands over his arms. He placed his palms on the door and pushed. His forearms burst into a cords of muscle and veins, and his tris became huge horseshoes. For seconds, nothing happened. Then there was the sound of gears breaking as the door jerked open an inch. Petrowski reached around the opening, grabbing the door. Bracing himself with his powerful legs, he pushed. No metal could withstand such force as gears broke and the door bent. The door was opened. “There,” he said. “No problem. Now, let’s go show that asshole what real military muscle is.”
They began to walk to Tim’s cell.
Tim lay on the platform, unmoving, his massive arms and legs restrained. Tim’s outward catatonic state belied the flurry of activity in his mind. His brain was overloaded with new sensations. Unable to process the sensations he was feeling, his mind’s eye visualized a rainbow of colors and images. The initial pain of the process had been transformed into a numbness as his nerves, muscle and bone were flooded with growth serum. The feelings of power now overwhelmed every other sensation. Tim both floated and fell in a vacuum of strength, might and muscular desire. He would be happy, if only he were experiencing such emotions. Instead, he was no longer Tim or anything at all. He could no longer feel his body as a body. Now, he and his body were a means of expressing power and might. If his mind could form any one thought, it would be that he was muscle and strength personified.
The android watched him, and stared at the computer router which blinked randomly. An hour passed, then two, and neither Tim nor Derek moved. There was a flurry of activity on the computer network, then Derek moved.
“Tim! Tim! I need you to wake up now,” the android whispered in an urgent fashion. The android shook the huge man, with no effect. Derek slapped Tim, causing his head to twist to one side violently. Tim moaned. “Tim! Wake up! You need to escape!” It was the closest the android had ever come to being emotional, and this emotion was panic.
Tim’s euphoria was being interrupted. From outside him, something wanted attention. What was it? Tim couldn’t tell. All he could do was sense an urgency. He needed to make a decision. Should he wake up, or should he revel in the power. He was undecided.
“Tim!” Derek slapped him again. The flashing on the router indicating network activity seemed more frantic, less chaotic. “Tim!” Derek changed his voice. He was now Hal, being authoritative. “Tim!” said Derek as Hal.
There was a spark in Tim’s mind, like a dog hearing its master’s voice. Something was wrong. Someone needed him. He needed to wake up.
Tim began to moan. His eyes opened, but they were unfocused. Derek slapped him again. “Tim! Wake up! There’s an emergency! You need to escape NOW!”
Tim focused. He was in a room. He tried to get up, but something held him down. He was a prisoner. Yes! The soldiers. They had captured him, destroyed Hal. He remembered. The procedure! Derek!
“Tim!” said the android, once again speaking as Derek.
“Ahhhhh… Wha…” Tim tried to talk.
“Tim! Hurry. You need to escape!”
“Derek?” Tim shook his head, clearing away the cobwebs of his mind. “What’s wrong.”
“Tim, trust me. You need to get out of here. Break the restraints!” Derek was pleading.
Tim looked around. The room was dark, and there was no one else there. “Derek, what are you talking about? No one’s here. Give me a minute…”
“No Tim. Do it now! They are fighting with each other now, but soon they’ll be coming for you!”
“Who is fighting? Derek, what are you talking about!”
“There is not time to explain,” pleaded the android.
“Take the time,” said Tim, lying perfectly still.
Derek stared into space as the flashing of the router slowed. “It’s HAL,” said Derek. “He’s been monitoring the situation. Something has happened. Something he hadn’t counted on. You’re in danger. Trust us, please.”
“Hal? But they destroyed HAL,” said Tim.
“No, Tim. They didn’t. They destroyed the computer, but not the program. Hal copied himself into their systems. They are secure, but Hal has broken out and contacted other copies of himself that he stored on the internet.” Derek noticed the confused look on Tim’s face. “Tim, Hal realized that being in only one computer was dangerous, so he cloned himself. He made backups and hid them on other systems. Hal hasn’t existed on only your system for months. He exists on many systems, all cooperating.”
“Hal is the Borg?” asked Tim, realizing the implications.
“The analogy is not exact, but in a sense, yes. Hal is now a series of coopering computer programs. And the Hal program that is in this complex has detected a danger to you.”
“Danger?” Tim asked. “OK, you explain while I power up and break these restraints. I need to grow.” Tim began to flex and push against it. Immediately, his body responded. He felt stronger. The restraints began to feel tighter as his body and muscles started to grow. Once again, Tim’s mind felt the euphoria of the activated growth serum. He heard Derek speak, but didn’t always understand.
“It’s the soldiers,” Tim heard Derek say. “… found the serum… growing stronger… bigger than you…” Tim didn’t care. As he flexed, he felt it happen. There was a creek, as the metal and machines fought against him. His body was on fire. He knew he was getting stronger. He was bigger. He would win. There was a jolt on his left side, then his right, as his arms jerked up an inch. The metal wasn’t tight anymore. He pushed his arms harder, forced his legs up. There was a squeal from below as the metal bent and crashed, freeing his mighty legs. Seconds later, the rigging holding his arms collapsed, falling around him and bouncing off his invulnerable muscle.
Tim sat up. “Just call me superman I guess,” he said with a smirk. He flexed his arm, estimating it to be 58 or 59 inches.
“Tim, do that later. Hal has locked down the complex, but you need to hurry.” Derek threw some clothes at him. Tim started to put them on.
Tim heard a commotion in the hallway. It started softly. Crashes, bangs. It was getting louder as it grew closer. There was a loud crash outside the door.
“I’m sorry Tim. I think it’s too late,” said Derek. “The door won’t hold them.”
Derek was right. Whatever was outside wanted in. A dent appeared in the metal, like a fist had punched the 1/2 inch thick steel. There was a second punch, and the door bent and light shown around the edges. A large dark skinned hand grabbed the corner. The metal crumbled like paper.
The lights suddenly came on. Tim was momentarily blinded. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Detrick standing in the door.
“Look who got out,” said Detrick, walking forward. Derek hadn’t lied. Detrick was bigger. Lots bigger. Detrick bent over and picked up one of the braces that had bound Tim’s legs. He smiled. Holding it in both arms, he pushed on the metal. It twisted easily. Well, easily for him. He bent the metal in on itself like a rope, tying it into a knot. “Ya, I can see that I overestimated these things. Kinda wimpy. Even a little thing like you could break them.” Detrick threw the metal at Tim.
Tim flexed, letting the metal bounce off his hardened body. Detrick grinned. He stepped forward, his right fist slapping his left palm. “I got something harder for you.” Tim held the flex. He saw Detrick draw back, his fist aiming straight for Tim’s chest. The contact was loud, like thunder. Detrick’s fist penetrated inches into the flexed muscle. A surge of pain shot through Tim as he staggered back. Detrick threw another punch, more powerful this time. It hit Tim in the abs, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into the wall.
Tim was stunned. Detrick approached and flexed his arm. It was massive. “Squeeze it, boy!” ordered the sergeant. Tim placed his hand on the huge peak of Detrick’s bicep. He squeezed. Detrick was hard. Tim’s forearms flexed, yet his fingers were unable to even dent the muscle. He felt his growth kicking in, his arms getting bigger and stronger trying to overpower the iron-mountain Detrick displayed. His grip was tightening, and Tim knew it would only be a matter of seconds before his strength overpowered Detrick. Instead, the unexpected happened. Tim’s finger’s were being forced further apart as Detrick’s muscle began to expand, growing and getting harder under Tim’s vice-like grip. “Ahhh, feels good, doesn’t it?” said Detrick, smirking. “All that hard, growing muscle. Look at its size! Man, a wimp like you should appreciate this.” Detrick paused, enjoying his expanding arm, then ordered, “Flex for me, boy!”
Detrick grabbed Tim’s hand by the fingers. Though Tim resisted, Detrick pulled back the fingers as an adult would a child’s—with no effort. He forced Tim’s hand up into a bicep pose. “I SAID FLEX!” he ordered. Tim complied.
Tim felt his muscle contract, getting hard and growing huge. He looked at Detrick’s. Tim’s was ripped and vascular, but looked so much smaller than the Sergeant’s. Detrick’s arm was a shadow behind his, larger in every way. The veins were more defined. The cords thicker. The peak higher. Tim heard Detrick laugh, and thought he saw motion from the door, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the arm that dwarfed his own.
From behind Detrick, another man flexed. Tim was amazed to see a bicep peak even higher than the sergeant’s. He looked up, and saw a blond soldier. He recognized him as one of the men he had beat earlier today. The new man grabbed Detrick and pushed him aside. He put his hands under Tim’s arms and lifted him. “Get up! It’s my turn,” he yelled. Tim stood, and the new man let him go.
“Prisoner, you can call me ‘sir’,” he said.
“Fuck you,” was Tim’s reply. The new man punched Tim in the abs, doubling him over. Tim felt a surge of strength from the attack, his abs getting stronger to ward off a future assault. When he looked up, he thought the man’s arm might look bigger too.
“The correct response is ‘Yes, sir!’. Remember that guy whose arm you broke, well, he was my friend. I don’t like people hurting my friends. It makes me mad. It makes me want to hurt them.” The soldier threw another punch into Tim’s abs. Tim felt his abs collapse under the superior might of this tormentor. He also felt them strengthen, but it wasn’t enough.
Instinctively, Tim tried to flee. With all the power his legs could generate, he threw himself into the man beating him, hoping to knock him off balance. Instead, Tim bounced off, not moving the man an inch. Instead, he saw the man’s body ripple as it ballooned up, becoming even more muscular than before.
“Looks like the prisoner is trying to escape,” said Detrick. “Petrowski, hold him for me while I teach him some respect.”
Petrowski grabbed Tim by the arms and held him. Tim struggled. He felt the surge of energy that accompanied his muscle growth. His body was electric with power as he fought against the soldier’s grip. His muscles that had destroyed the restraints, overpowered machines and overpowered 10 men became stronger, but not strong enough. He felt Petrowski’s grip tighten, his captor’s body press against his as the blond hulk’s muscles grew too. The bulk of the two men fought against each other for room. Tim felt Petrowski’s chest push into his back, denting his massive lats as they demanded room. Tim was powerless against him.
Tim felt surges of pain as Detrick used him as a human punching bag. His rock hard abs were tenderized by a series of blows that would bring down a building. Tim flexed his body, trying to harness more power, but Detrick grabbed his pec and squeezed. Tim’s steely hemispheres could not withstand the ever strengthening grip as they were crushed by the Sergeant’s fingers. Tim hardened himself under the onslaught, concentrating on his growth and not the pain. He closed his eyes and imagined himself getting bigger as fist after fist, assault after assault pummelled his body.
“Tim,” yelled Derek. “Don’t give in. Hang on. They can’t keep this up forever, and you..”
“Shut up!” screamed Detrick, backhanding Derek with the full force of his arm and sending him into a wall. There was the sound of electronics shorting out.
“What the?” said Petrowski.
“A fuckin’ computer. That thing is nothing but a fucking computer,” said Detrick, staring at the unmoving android.
Tim was now staring at the lifeless husk of Derek. He felt a surge of anger and adrenaline. There was a rush of strength, and he felt his arms begin to move. Petrowski forced them back down, but Tim found a new determination.
Petrowski began to struggle. He felt surges of power, but now his prisoner was becoming engorged with power. Like a sequence from the Incredible Hulk, Tim was becoming larger and larger. Petrowski had to reposition himself to contain Tim’s ever growing muscle.
Petrowski was huge, but he felt the effects of his growth drug begin to wane as his struggle to contain Tim’s might depleted his reserves. In seconds, his prisoner was approaching his size. “Sarge, I need some help here,” he called.
Tim pushed with his delts, forcing his arms to rise. Finally, he felt his strength gaining on Petrowski. Detrick smashed a fist into Tim’s abs, but it had little effect as the washboard deflected the power of the punch. With two arms, Detrick grabbed Tim’s right arm, forcing it down. Petrowski did the same with Tim’s left.
Tim was helpless again, held by two muscular behemoths with strength that equalled his. Tim heard another circuit short, and smelled ozone in the air. He needed more. “For you, Derek,” he whispered. With renewed determination, he fought hard. He kicked at the men, but the oaks that were their legs were still too strong. Both had now stopped growing, but Tim hadn’t. Their combined strength was now feeding his growth, his power. Detrick’s destruction fed Tim’s desire for revenge. Tim’s right arm began to move as it gained on the Sergeant’s power. Whether it was minutes, seconds or hours, Tim had no concept of time. He was focused entirely on the power he needed to defeat these two soliders—to defeat his captors.
Detrick felt Tim’s power first. The sergeant was sweating, struggling to hold down Tim’s arm. Detrick was determined not to be defeated again. He would be disappointed. As defeat loomed, he put his all into the struggle. Tim’s arm suddenly shot up and Detrick went flying, landing on the other side of the room, knocking him out.
Tim wasted no time. Forming a fist, he swung his free arm into Petrowski’s stomach. Petrowski’s stomach was like steel. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up,” thought Tim. Another punch, then another. The third broke through, causing Petrowski to stumble. Tim’s left arm shot up, but Petrowski fought to bring it down.
Tim grabbed Petrowski’s left wrist. He pulled. The soldier’s single arm was no competition for Tim’s. It was now arm against arm. Tim asserted his power, forcing Petrowski’s arms to his side. Petrowski began to realize there was nothing he could do to stop Tim.
“What do you think, SIR?” screamed Tim at Petrowski, slurring ‘sir’ with disrespect. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wanted to be captured by you assholes? Do you think I wanted to hurt your friend? No. All I wanted was my fantasy. It was you jerks who interfered!” Tim forced Petrowski’s arms up. As Petrowski resisted, he made him clap his hand together. “Do you like being a puppet? Do you like ruining people’s lives. Their work?” Tim’s lats flared as he dug his feet into the ground. “Well, that’s what you did. Think about that, SIR!” With a mighty twist, he tossed Petroski into the wall. He landed on Detrick. Both were out cold.
Tim ran to the android. “Derek?” He heard a crackle as the android’s eyes opened. “Derek, can you hear me?”
“Ssssystems,” the android vocalized, “failure. Power dis-rupted. Pri-mary process-r in-operative. Backup fai-ling.”
“I’ll get you out of here,” said Tim.
“No. Self-destruct … activated. HAL message on display.” Derek’s eyes went to a flat screen in the corner.
Reluctantly, Tim walked to it. There was a message there.
“Tim. I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I had computed a slight probability of government interference. This scenario was so unlikely as to never be fully explored. Projections indicate future contact between the HAL systems and you inadvisable. I have taken care of financial needs for your lifetime. Funds available in Swiss Bank. Go to PO Box 911 in 99307 for information. Advise adopting new identity. Government will pursue, but I will try and divert. Android equipped with one fail safe formula. It will neutralize one of the soldiers. Inject fail safe into vein for maximum effect.”
Events were happening too fast for Tim to process. No contact with Hal. Swiss bank? Fail safe? Fail safe. Then it dawned on him. The fail safe was originally for him. If he had gotten out of control, Hal would have used it on him. Now, Hal was offering him the ability to use it on Petrowski or Detrick.
A panel in Derek opened, and a syringe appeared. It contained a blue liquid. Tim took it. Detrick had killed Derek, if killing is the right word for an android. Whatever the word, he had taken the android from Tim. He pushed Petrowski off the sergeant. With a vengeance, he stabbed the syringe in the man. He watched as the Detrick’s hard muscles seemed to soften and become flabby. Tim knew Detrick was no threat to him anymore.
Tim turned and walked away, he smelled the fire that was consuming Derek. He also heard shouts as computers throughout the base began to crash, erasing all data of the experiments that had taken place there. Tim didn’t care. He was going home.
Tim walked into the club. Immediately, all eyes turned to him. He expected that. After all, he was 7 foot 3. He wore a blue spandex shirt that showed every inch of his hyper-muscular body. No one was bigger. His jeans were custom made to fit over his massive calves and quads. Ever ripple of his quads and hams shown through the fabric. His dick made a nice bulge too. Tim oozed sex. That’s why the stares didn’t surprise him.
He also wasn’t surprised to hear whispers of ‘steroids’ and ‘freakish’. That made him laugh. The guys that said it were the ones staring the most. Denial. They wanted him and they knew they could never have him. Besides, Tim didn’t want them. He had only one target.
He scanned the room. ‘Not here yet,’ he thought. Tim walked up to the bar and ordered a red wine—Francis Coppola Pinot Noir. He sipped the wine and waited. Annie Lennox’s ‘Pavement Cracks’ came on the juke box. He laughed. Hadn’t this all started with an Annie song?
Tim watched the door, seeing the men come and go. He finished his wine and ordered a second. Then he saw him. Tim recognized him immediately. His blond hair was a bit longer, but other than that, he hadn’t changed. Tim unconsciously smiled. Seeing Derek put butterflies in his stomach.
Derek took a seat at the end of the bar, then scanned the room. His eyes were drawn to the big man. Recognition took longer. Tim had changed. Derek looked confused as the Goliath moved toward him. Maybe if Derek were looking at Tim’s face rather than his pecs, he would have known it was Tim from the start. Instead, it wasn’t until Tim sat down beside him that recognition took place.
“I’m sorry,” said Tim as the Derek finally realized who the man was. “I… well, you see…. You were treated badly. It’s a long story. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Tim! My god, they told me you were dead!”
“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” Tim laughed.
“That note? And the phone calls! And, wow, look at you. You’re magnificent!” Derek was smiling.
“It’s a long story,” said Tim apologetically. “I just wanted to see you to, well, to see if you could forgive me and maybe, well, maybe start over.”
Derek smiled like the Mona Lisa. His eyes were soft. He looked down and touched Tim’s forearm, running a finger along the distended vein. Peeking up, he said, “So, tell me this story.”
That was a month ago. That first night, and every night after that (and some days, too), they made love. They became inseparable. Tim did have to remind himself that this Derek wasn’t only there to please him. He wasn’t the android built only for Tim’s happiness. That was an added bonus. Tim found that the real Derek’s idiosyncratic nature made the relationship tangible. Learning all about a real person made Tim feel alive.
Tim visited the post office box, and found the information about the Swiss bank account Hal had set up. There were also three boxes of serum and a note: “For your real Derek, if he wants it. Hal”
Derek did want it. Tim was his trainer. Like Hal, Tim was merciless. Tim programmed the robot drone to administer the formula, and he found the stash of nutrient Derek needed to quench his hunger. Derek compared the serum to the feeling of jumping from an airplane, a free-fall that ended in a jerk and a thump. Derek grew, becoming more handsome as he became more muscular. His masculine good looks became more powerful, more confident. “I don’t want to be as big as you,” he’d tell Tim. “Just big enough so that you don’t totally dominate me.”
‘As if,’ thought Tim. Tim was still getting stronger. The serum in his system never seemed to be totally maxed out. When he needed more strength or size, he produced it. On one weekend hike, to impress Derek, Tim began to toss around a multi-ton boulder. As he did, he felt the warmth, power and euphoria of the serum kicking in. His body pumped, ripping the tight shirt. Derek laughed at him, telling him he if his skin turned green, they were through.
Tim knew that eventually, the powers-that-be would come looking for him. He secretly bought property in Canada, England, France and Sweden. He sold his house in San Francisco, and Derek quit his job. After all, they were set for life.
Tim recalled the last month as he stood line to board the plane to Montreal. Derek waited with the bags. The airline clerk was friendly enough, apologizing for the new security rules imposed by the TSA. When she stepped away for a second, Tim noticed the old video display terminal. The cursor’s blink seemed to be winking at him. He looked around, reached over and typed, “hal?”
The screen went blank. “Sssshhhhhh….” flashed for a second, then vanished.
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