With a sigh, Larry places the beaker down on the counter. Three years to get the formula right. But now, he hopes, he's got it.
He's tired of being a skinny, pencil-neck geek. He wants to feel different.
His hand trembles as he lifts the glass, sniffing the potion. No detectable odor. He sips. No taste either. His mind racing, he swigs down the whole thing.
He swallows hard. His fingers drum nervously on the counter.
A few seconds elapse. He breaks into a sweat. What's taking so long? Nothing. Shit.
Disgusted, he slams his fist, plopping himself onto the lab stool. Goddamit! What did he leave out? His calculations had been so exact, so perfect. Suddenly, he belches. Great.
But in a few seconds, he knows something's different.
He's very hot. Very hot. He's never perspired like this before. His face literally drips with sweat, running down onto his shirt. His pits and crotch feel uncomfortably damp. He mops his face with the ratty lab towel. Intense heat emanates from his body. He's overcome by a feeling of disorientation, like he's stoned. Really stoned. Like he's snorted an entire case of poppers.
His head's heavy. His throat clamps shut. He can't speak or make a sound except for some garbled nonsense. His brain seems on the verge of exploding.
Maybe he's overdone it. His vision blurs, frightening him. Stop it, he wants to scream, but he can't.
Nothing comes out.
He can't stop it. He's overdosed. He's dying. He's so angry at himself for doing something so foolish. Goddamit, how could I have been so stupid?. The anger boils up in him.
All of a sudden, he feels really strong. I mean, really strong. Omnipotent.
Aggressive. Like kicking serious ass. Fuck yeah. He's pissed.
He scratches an itch on his chest.
It's more concave. His chest is more concave. It's bulging. Bigger. His chest is bigger. He feels it slowly rising. Rising, widening. Bulging. Fucking bulging, man! He feels around some more. His arms feel different too. Tighter in the sleeve.
Yup, his arm is thicker than before. Heavier. His neck too. The collar is almost tight. C'mon, baby, let's do it. He gets an erection like none he's had before.
He watches, mesmerized, as his chest slowly fills out his shirt. His shoulders, back, traps, legs, everything grows progressively larger. Thicker.
Muscular. He feels their heaviness increasing. He feels the hardness of the bulges under his clothes. Herein lay the power and strength he's sought for so long. Finally. Inside of him, begging to be brought out. Readying for eruption.
C'mon, you, c'mon…! He remembers the scale, and jumps on. His weight's already increased to 165 lbs. In less than a minute, he's gained 10 lbs. Of muscle. The needle shakes crazily, but surely, it goes up. 166…167…168…
His collar closes tightly around his throat, choking him. All he can do is laugh as he strangles. Because he knew that in a matter of seconds…POP! The button rips off the collar and shoots across the room.
He feels his traps bloating atop his widening shoulders, he-man, monster traps beginning to poke out from the collar. His chest has bulged so far he can't see his own waist. His shirt's pulled taut across his chest now, his shoulders and arms engulf the sleeves. The front pulls this way and that as it molds around his bulging pecs. Just when it seems there's no room to grow any larger, he hears a small explosion. One by one, the stitches holding his shirt together begin giving way. His shirt screams out in agony as it shreds and explodes. A button pops off here, a seam over there, a hole rips down the back.
At the same time the seams to his jeans, now skin tight around those swollen thighs, splintered their seams. The denim tore like tissue paper as his rippling quads and hams grew and grew. The backside split open, exposing his drenched shorts.
He felt drunk with power. What a fucking sensation. He felt omnipotent, like there was nothing he couldn't do. His dick pulsed ecstatically. Talk about fucking climaxes! Hulk out! In a frenzy of tearing, his shirt exploded as his staggering torso burst through. Now at last he could see for himself this bounty of muscle.
Herculean pecs that bulged and throbbed almost obscenely, horrific traps packed with masculine power, staggering delts that reminded him of three bowling balls crushed together, what more could he ask for? Everything and more.
His sleeves began to peel like human bananas, unsheathing his devastating, bulging arms. He flexed in disbelief, watching the biceps peak higher, cramming the available space on his arms with inhuman muscle. They leapt up with such brutal force that their single heads lumped themselves into terrifying doubles, both throbbing with masculine power.
His shirt had now relinquished to him. A pile of rags lay pathetically atop those fucking awesome traps. His monster torso heaved slowly, still growing.
He gasped, taking it all in. His set of armor. His tower of strength. His now. All his.
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