No limits

by Corwin

There’s a secret serum that makes you super-muscled and super-strong, but what you do with that—that’s all you.

Added: 21 Mar 2020 21,446 words 9,061 views 4.0 stars (2 votes)

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This story is a cross-over sequel to A.I. and The Cyclist. It’s a stand-alone story in that you won’t necessarily need to read those stories to understand what is going on here. Enjoy…
A
Amos Petrowski sat in the middle seat of the row he had been given on this plane. He hated flying. The seats simply were not made for a big man, let alone a man with the muscle mass he had.

While he sat on the plane, he contemplated the twists and turns his life had taken. He had joined the army to become a man—to put on some muscle and get into shape. The super-soldier experiment had certainly done that. That experiment ended when a civilian destroyed the government lab and all the documents from the project. The civilian also did something to his Sergeant—something terrible.

After his discharge from the Army, he took up the quest of finding a cure for his Sergeant. That required travel. At first, it was a battle with the airlines. They wanted him to pay for two or three seats because the one was too small. They said his size inconvenienced other passengers. Hell, it was he that was inconvenienced. He’d have none of their attempts to profiteer. Sometimes, they would threaten to cancel his ticket, or make him take a later plane. Amos’s reaction was always the same. He’d put down whatever he was carrying and remove any jacket he had on. He always wore a plain white tank top—a wife beater, which clung to his huge muscles like a second skin. He’d give them a second to take in his massive body, watching the way their eyes would widen as they stared at the way his pecs hung firm over his taught stomach. He’d see their eyes move to they side, tracing the outline of his robust shoulders and inhumanly large arms. That’s when he’d start his show. First, he’d flare his back, making his already huge upper body look bigger. Then, he’d raise his arms and thump them on the counter, flexing them, making sure his hardened mass was clearly visible to the clerk. Then he’d say in his most authoritarian voice, “No, I don’t think so. Why don’t you check again. I’m sure you can find some accommodation for me.” Normally this worked. Twice it didn’t.

Once, the clerk thought himself some bodybuilder or power lifter or something. He actually tried to intimidate Petrowski. Amos still laughs at the thought of the guy kneeling at his feet, begging Amos not to hurt him (more). The next time was less fun. They called security and Petrowski had to flash the card the Army gave him when he discharged, just in case he ever got into trouble. The card said to call a secret DIA number and that cleared everything up real fast. Now, when he books a flight, the airlines must have it in their computer to give him extra room. Giving him three seats helps somewhat, but there still isn’t enough leg room.

It’s been two and half years since the civilian destroyed the government’s program to create a super soldier and Petrowski started his quest. The civilian had injected something into Detrick, his Sergeant. Detrick was a massively powerful man, but whatever the civilian had done destroyed that. Detrick was still hugely muscled, but the doctor’s said that the impulses from his brain had been disrupted. He was paralyzed, unable to move. His muscles were limp masses of beef. Petrowski had tricked the Sergeant, overdosing on growth formula to out-muscle him. Now, Petrowski felt guilt at his condition. He was determined to hunt down the civilian or someone else who could help the man, restore him to his powerful self.

The plane landed, and Petrowski considered his next moves. Petrowski knew about the City University and its undefeated football team. He knew about their star player. The kid was a one-man football team, a total muscle powerhouse. The bio-genetics program at the university had a program in muscle growth, and he suspected that the football team was the benefactor of that research success. Petrowski also knew that the star player, one Jonny Romero, was the key to unlocking their secrets.

Petrowski had met other men who had experimented with muscle growth. Some had taken conventional steroids. Others had developed machines or drugs to stimulate hyper growth. None could compete with his power. Petrowski looked forward to the challenge of this kid.

The plane pulled up to the gate, and Petrowski stood up. It felt good to stretch his legs, just as it would feel good to bring this Romero kid down to size.


Today was the day. It was the day the new football team would be chosen. Jonny had lived through this day three times before. Now, in his senior year, it would be his last time. He had no fear, he had been the star of the team for the last two years, and he’d be the star this year. The reflection he saw in the mirror told him that was true.

The first time, Jonny was nervous. He wasn’t sure he’d make it. That’s when everything changed. Jonny learned he had been selected for the team, and he learned about the experiment. The thought of the experiment brought a smile to Jonny’s face. For him, the success of the experiment exceeded anyone’s expectations.

Since then, Jonny was the main attraction for the new team. Jonny was the pinnacle of what the experiment could achieve. Well, at least, what Mark, the head scientist and his academic advisor, would say publicly. Jonny knew better, but he enjoyed playing along. For all anyone knew, Jonny was the biggest, strongest, most-muscular player that City University, or any football team for that matter, had ever seen.

The experiment changed something else. It gave him a goal in life. Jonny’s goal was to get bigger. He wanted to be stronger and more muscular than he already was. That meant studying, learning all he could about enhancing muscle growth. He set himself to learning all he could about the process Mark and others had created. He studied physiology and bio-chemistry. Not only was he a star on the football field, he became a star in the classroom too. When he was selected to do an honor’s thesis, there was no question what the topic would be and who his advisor would be.

“I want to work on enhancing the growth serum,” he told Mark last spring. Of course, Mark agreed. Jonny was his protege.

Jonny had changed in other ways since his freshman year. His lust for muscle no longer made him envious of the other supermen Mark had created. In fact, they were his friends now. Instead, he turned that lust toward his determination to grow bigger. He had completed the experiment as a mere wisp of a man, only 1250 pounds of totally huge, hard muscle. When Adam and Brett graduated, they opened a gym in town and Jonny regularly trained there, bulking up to his current 1700 pounds of mass. Everyone was surprised at his determination to force himself to grow even bigger, but Jonny’s lust for muscle had no limits. He would grow. He loved showing up for football practice with hundreds of pounds of new muscle, awing the coach. He was an unstoppable force on the field. Off the field, his desire for more was insatiable.

Over the summer, he worked in the lab and on the computer, doing his research and conducting experiments. Things were going well and Mark was pleased. In the evenings, he worked at Adam’s gym, training others and making himself bigger and stronger. Adam’s clients were in awe of his massive size and incredible strength. They would stare as the weights and machines that they would struggle with would yield to Jonny’s power. They also appreciated what a genuinely nice guy he was, never to busy to offer a spot or give some advice. Well, he was nice most of the time. One thing Jonny learned not to appreciate was show offs.

Jonny thought about one time in the locker room. It was right after he started working there. He was working the desk for Adam, watching the clients. One guy caught his eye. The guy was big, well, not compared to Jonny, but for a normal guy, he was big. Probably about 250 or 260, six foot with a massive pec shelf and thin waist. His thighs had to be about 31 inches. Strong too, for a normal guy. None of this really mattered to Jonny. What caught his eye was that this guy was a real asshole, showing off, intimidating the other clients and hogging the weights. Jonny knew the type. Hell, he had been that type. That’s probably why he hated it so much—it reminded him of darker, more juvenile days.

So, he watched this guy as he “worked in” on some smaller dudes, pushing them out of the way so he could use a bench or a machine, flexing his muscles in a show of superiority. He watched as he worked with the heaviest weights he can lift, calling attention to his strength. He snickered to himself as the guy flexed, lifting his workout shirt to check his eight-pack or when he got a surprised look because his tight shirt began to rip when he flared his lats. The final straw for Jonny was when the guy was walking into the locker room. Of course, he stripped his shirt off before he got there, that was to be expected from this guy. It was when he grabbed at his crotch, hefty the heavy equipment in his hand. “Damned jocks are so fucking constraining. Why can’t they make them for use guys with real meat.”

That was too much for Jonny. He got someone to watch the desk, telling them there was, “a problem I need to take care of.” He followed the guy into the locker room. He knew what he’d find, and he was right.

There were five or six guys in the locker room. They weren’t bodybuilders, but regular clients who use the gym to get fit or lose weight. The show off was in the middle of the room, putting on a performance. He was naked, looking in the mirror, flexing. His cock was soft, but hung a good nine and a half inches down his leg. The other guys were catching glances in that glance-but-try-not-to-glance kinda way. They were uncomfortably hiding their own meat which didn’t stack up. The show off knew he had what they wanted, and he was taking advantage of it.

Jonny walked over to his locker and removed the lock. Like the others, he didn’t look directly at the show off, catching glances of him from the corner of his eye. Jonny stripped off his shirt and wrapped a towel around his waist before removing his shorts.

The show off found his target. His donkey cock began to expand and rise at the site of the hugely muscled jock. He wandered past Jonny to his locker, making sure his huge organ bobbed and weaved in front of him. Jonny continued to catch glances as the show off grabbed a towel, obviously taking longer than necessary, twisting and flexing more than was required. Jonny stood and walked toward the common showers, removing his towel after he took a corner shower.

The show off followed Jonny into the shower. His towel was tossed over his shoulder, his hefty cock bouncing between his bodybuilder legs. Seeing Jonny had the same effect it had last time. The man’s nine and a half inches thickened and grew, passing ten inches in length. It stood like a divining rod in front of him at its eleven-plus inch erect length.

Jonny peeked at the man, then turned and faced the wall. The show off grinned. “Wow, you are a big guy, aren’t you. Damn, your arms are bigger than my legs!”

“Way bigger,” agreed Jonny, who continued to soap himself up, not looking at the other man. Jonny flexed his arm a bit, showing the guy some size, getting him more turned on by Jonny’s superior muscle.

“Ya, I got a good workout today. Probably not as good as yours, but damned good for me. Always makes me horny though.” The guy looked down at his stiff rod. “Like with muscle, if you got it flaunt it, right?” The show off laughed. “And I got it there. My bods good too, work hard on it. Not in your league, but other things make up for that.” The guy smiled and began to soap his cock, stroking it with soapy lather. “Ya, this big one is something special.”

Jonny grunted.

“Hey dude, it’s okay. I see you peeking. Nothing to be ashamed about. Most guys are smaller than me down there.” The show off gave a long stroke of his fat, long dick and smiled.

Jonny had had enough. “Ya, most guys are kinda small. You’ve got a nice one, that’s for sure, but there are bigger guys.” Jonny turned and faced him, his 15 inches hanging soft down his massive thigh. Jonny extended a leg, flexing it hard, his soft cock flopping to find the divide between Jonny’s pillar-sized thighs.

The show off stared. Jonny took a step forward and hefted his meat in his hand, mentally measuring his cock against the other guy’s. “Hey, looks like I’m bigger soft than you are hard!” exclaimed Jonny, feigning surprise. “Guess that violates stereotypes, doesn’t it? I got all this huge muscle,” Jonny flexed his arm, which erupted into into high peaks and deep cords, “and I got a dick that’s twice as big as yours!”

A shudder ran through the show off’s body, and his dick jerked at the thought of such a large member and Jonny’s overall masculinity. Jonny began to soap his massive meat as the guy stared, a sliver of drool running out of the corner of his mouth. With a sudden jerk, the guy looked up, wide-eyed and red faced, then turned toward the wall. Jonny watched him for a few seconds, then continued with his shower. The show off didn’t say anything else. When he left, he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. Jonny did the same.

In the locker room, the show off changed quickly and left. Jonny got dressed and returned to the desk, thanking the guy who subbed for him. “Problem’s fixed now.”

A few minutes later, one of the customers who was in the locker room was leaving. He stopped over to the desk. “Thanks for shutting that asshole up,” he said with a wink.

“No problem,” replied Jonny.

Ya, it was no problem for Jonny to be bigger than anyone else in any number of ways.

Jonny’s thoughts returned to what was occurring outside the team’s locker room. He listened. The coach had just introduced Mark. The kids were going to learn about the experiment. Jonny would be introduced in a few minutes. He peeled off his shirt and slipped on a pair of posing shorts.

“I’m sure you know of our star player, Jonny Romero,” he heard Mark say. “Jonny has had the greatest exposure to the growth formula. Jonny, come out and meet your new team members.”

Jonny adjusted his massive package. ‘If you got it, flaunt it,’ he thought with a laugh. Jonny walked out and looked at the small men. He had to admit, he did like the deer-in-headlights looks he got from these kids. They had never imagined a man could have so much muscle. He heard one kid say something about ‘The Incredible Hulk’, but Jonny knew he was bigger than that. These kids looked up to him, and he knew that they wanted to grow almost as much as he did.

Petrowski knew what to expect. He’d walk into the gym and all eyes would turn to him. Conversations would stop. Some guys might even drop their weights. Petrowski knew why. He was a sight to behold—a huge man like they had never seen. He was thickly muscled, lean and tight. People just didn’t look as fit or as masculine as he looked. He’d like to believe that he got use to it, but he hadn’t. He also lied to himself that he didn’t get off on the intimidating effect he had on people. He did.

He stood across the street and read the sign, “Adam’s Gym”. He’d done his research. He knew this is where the big boys in town trained. He knew this is where he’d find Jonny Romero. Petrowski twisted to his side, cracking his back and loosening up his muscles. He walked toward the door.

As he stepped inside, he noticed ten or so guys standing near a power rack. Other guys were working out on a variety of machines or using free weights. Some turned to him, but immediately turned away, totally disinterested, and continued their workouts. No one seemed shocked to see a guy the size of Petrowski come into the gym. Petrowski felt a pang of anger at the let down.

In the corner, he heard guys counting. “forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty…” There was a steady rhythm—each second ticking off another number.

Petrowski walked over to the desk. “How much for a day’s workout?” he asked.

The guy behind the desk looked up, shrugged and said “Ten dollars.” Petrowski banged down ten bucks and walked toward the locker room, looking over to the crowd. The counting had now gotten into the 80s.

Through the spectators, Petrowski saw a guy on a bench. He was moving at least 20 plates, the bar sagging on either end from the stress. He couldn’t see much of the lifter, but did see that his legs were massive. They reminded Petrowski of his own powerful wheels.

Petrowski walked into the locker room and found a place to stow his gear. He stripped off his 9X sweatpants that covered his workout shorts and put on a green t-shirt that said ‘Army’. Then, he went back into the gym. The process took about a minute.

The crowd was still counting. They were now into the 140s. The bencher hadn’t slowed down and was still cranking out rep after rep like a machine. Petrowski began to walk over, twisting his back and stretching his torso as he walked. When he got closer he could finally see the lifter’s face. It was Jonny Romero.

“One forty-nine! One fifty!” Jonny lifted the bar for a final time and placed it on the rack, totally in control.

“Man! That was incredible!” screamed one of the on-lookers. There was a noticeable bulge in his pants.

“No problem. Could have gone on longer, but that’s a good warm up.” Jonny said, grabbing a towel and dabbing some small amount of sweat from his forehead.

“Mind if I work in?” asked Petrowski. People turned to look at him. Sure, people challenged Jonny on occasion. Even Adam liked to have fun with the big kid, pushing him to his limits to help him grow. Nobody was ready for a new comer to take Jonny on though.

Jonny stood up. He was slightly shorter than Petrowski, but his body looked thicker. Petrowski’s mind couldn’t comprehend that anyone might actually be bigger than he, so he rejected that. He knew he was stronger than this kid.

“Sure,” said Jonny casually. “You’re new here. Welcome.” Jonny extended his hand. Petrowski grasped it firmly and shook once. Jonny grinned. He watched the new guy’s forearm tense and ripple into hard, thick muscle. Jonny felt the pressure build in the grip, and returned the squeeze. They stood, hands locked for several seconds. A bead of sweat appeared on Petrowski’s forehead, and Jonny let go. “Go ahead man, the bench is yours. Want me to change weights.”

Petrowski shook out his hand. The kid had a killer grip. “Nah. That looks like a good weight to start. What’d you just do, 150?”

“Yep,” said Jonny. “Go for it.” Jonny’s self-confidence aggravated Petrowski. He used it to fuel his lift—get angry at the weights, not the kid.

The crowd made room for Petrowski. The big man lifted a leg over the bench, then sat down. He stretched and spun his muscular arms in little circles, loosening up his shoulders. When he was ready, he laid on the bench under the bar. He positioned his hands and demanded power from his pecs, delts and tris. The bar went up. Petrowski smiled as he cranked out the reps with ease. Ten. Twenty. The crowd counted with him, a rep a second, just like the kid. Rep after rep Petrowski lifted, his muscles swelling from the exertion. He heard a small ripping sound from his shirt as his muscles pumped bigger. After a minute and a half, Petrowski began to feel the weight. If the kid could do it, so could he. He got mad that his muscles would begin to rebel and continued to crank out the weight. The crowd continued to count, watching as the bar touched his chest then was raised up with perfect form and control. At 120, Petrowski began to slow. His face turned red and sweat eeked through his shirt. Still, he demanded more strength from his body as he continued to lift with perfect form. The clock neared four minutes by the time he finished the 150th rep. Jonny was ready with a spot that was never needed, but helped the man position the bar back on the rack. Petrowski sat up and Jonny handed him a towel.

“That was good man! Congratulations,” Jonny said, patting the man on the back.

Petrowski sneered a ‘thanks’, upset that he hadn’t performed to his best.

“You gonna be lift’n heavy, big guy?” asked Jonny. “My workout partner bailed on me today, so if you need someone to spot you, I wouldn’t mind. Since school started, the other big guys use that gym. My name’s Jonny Romero, but everyone around here calls me ‘The Weed’.”

Petrowski stood up. “Ya, could use a partner today if you don’t mind. Name’s Petrowski. Amos Petrowski. Why ‘Weed’?”

“Ha. Well,” said Jonny, hitting a most muscular pose that showed his substantial mass, thickness, hardness and vascularity, “when I started lifting I grew like a weed. Still not big enough though.”

For the next hour and a half, Petrowski and ‘The Weed’ lifted. Jonny had no problem matching Petrowski’s strength. If anything, Petrowski had trouble remembering a harder workout he had been put through recently. He had gone to the gym to get a handle on the kid’s size and strength, expecting to be able to handle anything he found. He hadn’t expected The Weed to be able to match his physical power, let alone surpass it.

“Good workout man,” said Jonny as they walked into the locker room. Jonny stripped off his shirt. Petrowski watched as Jonny flexed his bicep, raising and lower the arm, checking out his pump. Jonny contracted the muscle, the huge peak raising above his fist. He held the flex, forcing it harder. Petrowski noticed the river of veins that covered his massive forearm. “Gotta get bigger,” muttered Jonny as he willed his muscles harder and bigger.

Petrowski lifted his shirt, examining the tears where the fabric had failed against his powerful body. The shirt was wet and had the musky smell of a man’s sweat. He walked behind Jonny and flexed his massive arm. The peak was huge and Petrowski thought looked like a twin of Jonny’s powerful arm. Petrowski squeezed his flex harder, forcing the striations in the muscle to become visible and the veins to pulse beneath the paper-thin skin.

Jonny looked at Petrowski. “Looks like you got a good pump too.”

“Gotta lift heavy to get big,” said Petrowski, bringing the other arm up, flaring his lats and hitting a double bicep pose.

Jonny hit the same pose. Jonny judged that his body looked tighter and his muscle’s harder than Petrowski’s. “I went a little light today,” admitted Jonny. “I didn’t want to show off since you’re new here.”

Petrowski pulled his arms down and in, hitting a crab, leaning into it to show the huge mounds of his chest and hardness of his waist. “Kid, you may be strong, but you aren’t that strong.” Petrowski’s voice was pure confidence. He knew it was a challenge, but now he’d show this kid what pure Army power is.

Jonny followed, forcing his chest to display raw striations. Each chest muscle forced into the other, bulging hard. “Dude, don’t make statements that you can’t back up.”

Petrowski stood up and approached Jonny. They stood pec to pec, Petrowski trying to intimidate the college stud with his slight height advantage. “You wanna take this somewhere?”

Jonny looked the taller man in the eyes, his own eyes squinted with contempt for the challenge. He nodded toward a door on the right behind Petrowski. “You ever wrestle?”

Petrowski grinned. “A little,” he said.

Jonny moved, brushing past Petrowski and pushing the big man out of the way. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some keys and unlocked the door. He opened it and turned on the lights. “You comin’?” he called back to Petrowski.

The room was bright, with mirrors on every wall. The floor was covered with padding that was delineated with circles and squares. Jonny walked to one side of the room and turned toward Petrowski who was standing in the door. Petrowski closed the door and took a couple steps into the room. He stopped and stared at Jonny.

“Thought you were a nice guy and smarter than this,” said Jonny as he began to walk toward Petrowski’s left.

“Just seein’ what you’re made of boy,” said Petrowski, moving around the edge of the room and keeping his distance from Jonny as he sized him up. “You always been strong?”

Jonny laughed. “Got big for football. That was the start. Now, all I care about is getting bigger, though I’m sure that I’m big enough to handle you.”

“Think so?” chided Petrowski. The two men continued to circle. “Ever hear of a couple of guys named Tim and Derek?”

“Nah. They go to City?” asked Jonny.

Petrowski made his move. He ran toward Jonny, going low, hitting the kid in the knees and knocking him to the ground. Quickly, Petrowski grabs Jonny’s arms and pulled them back, wrapping his own massive guns around them. Petrowski grabbed his arms, pulling Jonny back and exerting force against Jonny’s massive back. Petrowski next slipped his massive legs around Jonny’s waist and locked his ankles together, pressing his incredibly strong legs into Jonny’s stomach. Jonny gasped as Petrowski’s scissor hold and full nelson forced the air out of his lungs.

Petrowski pulled tighter, his massive muscles in control of the powerful football player. He applied more force, his back flaring wide with incredible power, his legs rippling and defined as he squeezed Jonny harder.

Petrowski was about to ask Jonny if he gave up when he felt something. First, his legs were pushed out as Jonny flexed his abs and intercostals against Petrowski’s legs. Petrowski tried to increase the pressure, but felt the steely-hard waist containing his power. Next, he felt Jonny take a deep breath, expanding his chest and flaring his back. Jonny’s arms burst into a sea of huge muscle.

Petrowski increased his pressure on Jonny’s back. Jonny’s lats burst in a mass of rippling rock as he began to lean forward. His pecs bulged into his chin as he forced his arms forward and down. Petrowski felt his hold weakening, being overpowered by the massive stud. Petrowski grunted, demanding more power from his body but Jonny continued to press forward.

Jonny’s shoulder’s were boulders, three heads clearly defined. His muscles were thickly corded as he forced them against Petrowski’s might. Petrowski could barely believe his eyes when he saw that Jonny’s upper arms were thicker than his own. Jonny’s upper body lurched forward as Petrowski’s grip failed. Petrowski saw the determination and glee in the kid’s face as he escaped the full nelson.

Petrowski leaned back, forcing more power into his legs, demanding that they squeeze tighter. He felt them press against Jonny’s waist, contracting it.

Jonny grabbed at Petrowski’s legs. His fingers pressed into Petrowski’s diamond hard calves and Jonny’s forearms thickened into rivers of ultra-defined muscled. Jonny’s grip could crush steel and his fingers dug into Petrowski’s hard muscle. Petrowski resisted, trying to flex his diamond calves even more, but there was no resistance for Jonny’s grip. Jonny’s triceps and biceps exploded in size and his lats contracted as he forced Petrowski’s ankles apart.

Petrowski screamed, looking for more strength demanding that his legs come together. Jonny continued to out muscle Petrowski’s thighs. He forced his waist to be free. Petrowski felt a pain rush through his legs as Jonny overpowered his crushing grip. Petrowski reluctantly gave up and stopped flexing.

Jonny rolled to his knees and got behind Petrowski. Jonny’s face was determined. Petrowski was strong, but Jonny knew he would win. He had to win. Before Petrowski could get to his feet, he placed one arm between the powerful legs that had tried to crush him. From behind, his hand reached over and grabbed Petrowski’s crotch. Jonny felt that it was big, but not as big as his own. Jonny reached his other arm over the soldier’s thick lats and grabbed onto his massive pec. Petrowski was beefy and strong, but Jonny needed to teach the man what real muscle power is.

Jonny started to lift Petrowski. Sensing the move, Petrowski acted to counter it. Moving quickly, he shifted his legs up and over Jonny’s shoulders. Using his massive arms to add to his momentum, he pushed against Jonny’s thighs, jumping over the unsuspecting muscle boy.

Petrowski now stood behind Jonny. For the first time he realized he might have to rely on skill rather than strength to win. Reluctantly he admitted Jonny was just too strong. He needed to try to force Jonny to submit.

As Jonny began to get up, Petrowski wrapped his right arm around Jonny’s left. Petrowski tossed himself against Jonny’s back. Jonny expected something and absorbed the blow with his thighs, but this was what Petrowski wanted. He grabbed Jonny’s right arm with his left, locking this elbows around Jonny’s. Petrowski leaned forward, forcing Jonny’s arms up so that they hung over his shoulders. Jonny began to be lifted from the ground. Petrowski heard Jonny’s back crack and the football powerhouse grunt, taken by surprise.

Jonny refused to give up. He began to flay about, searching for a way out of this standing crucifix. Jonny wrapped his legs around Petrowski’s tree-thick thighs and began to flex his abs, forcing Petrowski up and freeing the pressure on his arms. Jonny’s face turned red as he demanded his eight-pack abs contract and overpower the other wrestler. Petrowski fought, but felt Jonny’s unbelievable power once again dominate him. Jonny’s arms slid down Petrowski’s and Jonny flared his powerful lats. Petrowski’s back began to crack and Jonny let his feet fall to the floor. Lifting Petrowski up, Jonny successfully reversed the crucifix on Petrowski. Petrowski fought, but to no avail. Nothing he could do could break the hold as Jonny stretched the taller man’s spine.

“Give?” cried Jonny, his face red and his body sweaty with the effort of the match.

Petrowski screamed in one final effort to break free, then admitted defeat. Jonny held him for a second before dropping him to the ground.

Petrowski panted as he sat on the mats, defeated.

“Where’d you get to be so strong?” Jonny demanded as he stood over his fallen foe.

“Army. Special Forces. Can’t talk about it,” Petrowski admitted. He saw Jonny walk over to him, and expected the kid to help him up. Instead, Jonny wrapped his massive arm around Petrowski’s neck and started to squeeze.

“Thought it might be something like that,” said Jonny.

Petrowski grabbed at Jonny’s arm. Jonny tightened his grip. Petrowski flexed his bull neck, but Jonny’s rock-hard bicep dug into the soldier’s muscles. Petrowski’s face turned red as the blood was cut off to his brain. Jonny’s sleeper hold was merciless. Petrowski used all his might trying desperately to escape, but Jonny was too strong.

“Why?” Petrowski gurgled as he felt the room begin to grow dark around him.

“I always liked Air Force better,” said Jonny.

When Petrowski was out, Jonny walked back into the locker room. He opened his locker and took out three syringes. Bringing them back to the unconscious man, he took a thick needle and pushed it into Petrowski’s thigh, extracting a small slice of muscle. Next, he took a vialed syringe and extracted a blood sample from the man. Lastly, he took a syringe and stuck it into the man’s nuts, getting a sample of the juice that resides there. “It’s all for the good of research,” said Jonny as he put the samples away for safe keeping.

Amos Petrowski awoke in the alley outside the gym. There was a small bandage on his leg and his balls hurt. His gear was intact, and there was a voucher for one free workout at Adam’s Gym with a note that said, “Thanks, The Weed.” He got up and walked back to his hotel. He’d need to find another way to deal with Jonny Romero.

Petrowski wandered the halls of Doherty Hall at State University looking for room C304. He felt like bashing in the walls. It was so damned frustrating trying to make sense of the maze he wandered through. Who had ever heard of a building with sub-basements? And C-sub-basement was a nightmare of corridors that led no where, floors with steps that went up 3 then immediately down 3, and a numbering scheme that resembled the Dewey Decimal System.

He found lab C302 and heard some yelling coming from down the hall.

“We got you this job so you could figure this out! We don’t want excuses, we want to win! Our alumni want a national trophy! You said you could do it and that you’d done it before!”

“I showed you the results of my prior research,” said a voice. Petrowski recognized it as Dr. Perkins, the man he had come to see.

“So do it again!”

“I’ve tried. The first results were destroyed, and every time I start something here, well,…”

“I don’t want excuses doctor, I want results.”

Petrowski saw a man emerge from a room down the hall. The man was tall and thin. He was red faced and brush passed Petrowski. Petrowski walked over to the door and knocked.

“Hello, Dr. Perkins,” greeted the huge muscle man.

Dr. Perkins looked up. “Sergeant Petrowski. Well, it’s been two years. It’s good to see you!” Perkins eyes surveyed the big man, watching his massive body walk with grace and strength. “I see that the formula is still working.”

“Strong as ever doc,” said Perkins. “That’s why I’m here. Been trying to find that civilian, for the Sarge. You know.”

“Yes,” agreed Perkins. “I’ve been in touch with his doctors at the VA hospital. There hasn’t been any change. I’ve helped as much as I could, but…” Perkins voice trailed off, ashamed of his failure.

“Doc, I couldn’t help hearing. What was that about?”

“After my lab was destroyed, the Defense Department decided to terminate my contract. That’s when they disbanded your unit. I contacted some colleagues, and they put me in touch with a man. Wealthy. Well, to make a long story short, he was a football fan and was upset that his team wasn’t performing well.”

“And City was undefeated,” agreed Petrowski.

“Yes. They had gone from being a third-rate team to having players who were unstoppable. The benefactor agreed to fund my research. Something about a rivalry between the schools. He wanted me to give State’s players the same edge. “

“Or better?” asked Petrowski. “Doc, I had a run in with one of their players. The kid whopped my ass.”

“Jonny Romero?” asked Perkins. “Yes. Whatever is going on over there, he’s the key. The kid could overpower the whole league if he wanted to.”

“Well doc, if he could overpower me, I don’t think the research from the Army could help here.”

Perkins looked at Petrowski. “Perhaps, but my research isn’t going well here. I can’t even recreate the original formula that you took.”

“If you could, do you think it might help Detrick?”

“Maybe.” Perkins paused. “Sergeant, maybe with your help, I could recreate the original formula. It’s still in your system. Perhaps I could synthesize it from your blood.”

Perkins walked over to a table and began scribbling down notes.

“Sure doc, anything to help. But they still have Romero.”

“Yes, but I’ve been thinking about that too. We used the formula on normal men. What if we used it on someone who was naturally predisposed to athletics. Someone gifted. One of State’s star players for example. The formula might work stronger on someone like that. And once I have the original formula again, I might be able to enhance it.” Perkins was busy writing. “And these enhancements might help Detrick. Sergeant, could I impose on you to help?”

“It’s just Petrowski now, doc. Sergeant was a long time ago. Besides, there’s only one real Sergeant, and that’s Detrick. If this might help him, sure, I’ll cooperate.”

Perkins smiled. He went over to a cabinet and pulled out a syringe. Petrowski held out his arm. Perkins looked at the massively muscled limb. “Wow. I can never get over just how huge you are. Your arm is twice as thick as my chest!” Perkins wrapped a rubber hose around the upper arm, forcing more veins to the surface. He then stuck the needle in and began to extract Petrowski’s blood. “And you say Romero was able to beat you. Well, we will have to do something about that.”


Ken Walters walked into the locker room. This was the time that the football trained. Ken had played football his freshman year, but had stopped to body build instead. He still liked to train with the team, though. They were his friends, even though some of them didn’t appreciate the aesthetic aspects that he now pursued.

Ken dropped his bag and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a handsome young man. His tussled blond hair and his blue eyes betrayed his northern European heritage. His face was perfectly proportioned. He wore a van dyke that he kept trimmed close to his face. As he began to unbutton his shirt, his ripped, tight chest came into view. As button after button came undone, more of his hard body came was visible. He had a perfect ten pack with so little body fat his muscles were defined even when he wasn’t flexed. He slipped the shirt over his massive shoulders revealing his nineteen-plus inch upper arms. He smiled at what he saw, the perfect pearly-white teeth the finishing touch to this extremely handsome man.

“Hey Kenny, come to train with the big boys,” said one of the players.

“Think I’m pretty big right now,” replied Kenny, raising his arms into a double bicep pose. Almost twenty inches of hard muscle bulged out of his upper arm, thick veins visible on his massive forearms. He pulled his arms up over his head, flexing his pecs and abs. His body snapped into ripped, massive muscle. He sucked in his gut, undulating his abs hypnotically. When he stopped flexing, he smiled and said, “and have the trophies to prove it.”

“So, why not come back to the team and prove it on the field,” chided Tom.

Ken unbuttoned his pants, and stripped down to his boxer briefs. Tom had seen Ken naked before, and knew what to expect. He turned away rather than accidentally looking at the snake that peaked out the right leg of the briefs. He pulled a pair of navy blue shorts out of his bag and pulled them over, covering the snake.

Just then the coach walked in. Petrowski and Perkins were with him. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “can I have your attention. We think we’ve finally cracked the secret that will help us beat City this year and regain our number one ranking, but we need a volunteer.”

Petrowski removed his shirt. The players gasped at the wall of muscle named Amos Petrowski. Petrowski’s pec shelf hung nearly two feet over his ripped ten-pack abs. His arms were the largest they had ever seen up close. Every man in the locker room stared in awe, except for Ken.

“I see you’ve noticed Sergeant Petrowski. Gentlemen, the Sergeant here was the recipient of a secret government program into muscle growth. He’s agreed to share those secrets with one of you.”

“Doesn’t look so tough to me,” whispered Ken. “Looks more like some sorta gorilla that OD’ed on steroids.”

“Did you say something Mr. Walters? This only applies to team members. You’re a guest here.”

“Ya, whatever coach. You know I’m way stronger than anyone on your team. If they want to do something unnatural when I can have this,” he moved his hands over his body from his pecs to his abs and hips, “just by doing a little work, I’ll go for the work.”

The coach was about to say something when Perkins tapped him on the arm. The men whispered something, and the coach nodded yes a few times. Petrowski walked over to Ken.

“Think you’re tough do you, son?”

“I know it,” said Ken. “Here, let me prove it.” Ken raised his arm to his side. He made a fist, flexing his massive forearm into its vascular splendor. Slowly, he bent his arm at the elbow and watched his massive bicep peak appear once more. Next, he flexed his triceps, hitting an equilibrium that displayed both the massive bicep and the low-hanging horseshoe of his triceps. “Think you’re tough? I bet you can’t even dent this.”

Petrowski grinned. His big hand engulfed Ken’s bicep. It felt hard and warm, but Petrowski was strong. His forearm was inches bigger than this kid’s upper arm. He began to squeeze. The tendon’s in Petrowski’s forearm jutted out as he exerted more and more pressure. He felt his fingers begin to move in, but were pushed out by the hardness of Ken’s muscle. He didn’t want to hurt the kid, but found himself pressing harder and harder and getting nowhere.

Ken grinned. “These muscles are harder than fucking titanium, man. That all you got?”

Petrowski grinned and began to let loose with his full might. His forearms bulged and became striated masses as he crushed harder. His fingers moved in slightly. Ken got a determined look on his face and flexed harder, pushing the fingers back out. Petrowski’s fingers turned white and his arm began to shake with effort, but he was unable to dent the boy’s hard muscle.

Perkins turned to the coach. “We need that boy,” he said. “With those natural gifts, the growth enhancer would be unbelievable.”

“Stronger than the Weed?” asked the coach.

“I can’t guarantee it, but I’d guess yes.”

Petrowski continued to squeeze. “That will do, Sergeant,” ordered Perkins after a minute.

“Told you,” said Ken.

The coach came over. “Ken, we want you to do the experiment.”

“Not interested.”

Petrowski looked at him. “What if I found someone that could crush that bicep like it was clay?” he asked.

“Ain’t no one can do that,” boasted Ken. “Besides, I want to stay natural. No roids for me.”

“These aren’t steroids, Mr. Walter,” said Perkins. “They enhance your natural abilities, that’s all.”

“So, if there is someone who is tougher than you and we can give you the ability to beat him, you’d be interested?” asked Petrowski.

“That’s a big ‘if’, but ya, I might hear you out,” replied Ken, skeptically.

“Fine. Put your shirt on and come with me,” said Petrowski. “Ever hear of Adam’s gym?”


The two men walked into the gym. Jonny was working the desk. “Hey, glad to see you man. Hope there are no hard feelings about the other day!”

Petrowski put down his guest pass. “How much for a three month membership?”

“For you? $150 oughta cover it.”

Petrowski took out his wallet and put down $150. “The day pass is or my friend here.”

“Sure. You’re Ken Walters, aren’t you?” asked Jonny as he put the money in the cash register. “Congratulations on winning the state title. You’ve got a great physique for someone from State.”

Ken smile. “Uh, thanks. Ya, you guys at City are pretty big.”

Jonny smiled, flexing his gun. “Ya. Hard and ripped too. But football is our game, not bodybuilding. The diet and discipline you guys have is way too much for slobs like us,” Jonny said with a chuckle.

Petrowski and Ken began to walk to the locker room when Petrowski stopped and turned around. “Hey, Weed, that’s what they call you right? Weed?”

Jonny nodded with a smile on his face.

“Ken here is pretty buff, ya know? Damn hard too. I can’t even dent his bicep.”

Jonny raised an eyebrow, a glimmer in his eye.

“Ya, no one can crush my titanium muscles!” agreed Ken.

“Why don’t you give it a go, if it’s okay with Ken here,” Petrowski prodded.

“Fine with me. Show City what this State boy is made of—steel!” said Ken with confidence. In a flash, he took off his shirt and revealed his trophy-winning physique.

“Looking good,” said Jonny, strutting over to Ken, pumping his substantially larger muscle and squeezing his hand into a fist that flexed his watermelon sized forearm.

Like before, Ken raised his arm, forcing his muscle to peak, ripped muscle bursting through paper-thin skin. Jonny placed his hand over the muscle and gave a squeeze.

“Damned hard, Ken.” Jonny smiled. His forearm came to life, ripped muscle bursting forth. His fingers began to dent Ken’s muscle. Ken shook, demanding more strength and hardness. Jonny’s fingers stopped and moved out a bit, then proceeded to move in, crushing Ken’s arm.

Stop!” yelled Ken as Jonny’s fingers dug into the body builder’s gun. Jonny let go. Ken’s other hand jumped to his bicep, red indents marking where Jonny’s grip had crushed into the muscle. Ken began to massage the snore bicep.

Jonny raised his arm, forcing his massive peak up high, the sleeve of his shirt ripping from the mass of his arm. He bobbed his fist, causing the huge forearm to ripple. “Guess that shows that City boy’s crush titanium before breakfast, huh?” Jonny walked back behind the desk. “Enjoy your workouts.”

Petrowski led Ken to the locker room.

Ken looked at himself in the mirror. He struck a double bicep pose and stared at the outline of Jonny’s fingers on his skin. “This treatment,” he said, “it’ll make my bi hard enough that he can’t do that anymore.”

Petrowski shook his head yes.

“I’ll get as strong as him?”

“Possibly stronger.”

Ken stared into the mirror. His eyes began to squint. “I’m in.”

Perkins spent the next few days in his lab. He was able to isolate the muscle serum from Petrowski’s blood, yet he was surprised to see that the serum had interacted with Petrowski’s own body chemistry. Originally, the formula worked on the endocrine system. The serum in Petrowski’s blood now seemed to be originating in the muscle cells themselves. The endocrine system acted as a catalyst to the reaction.

Perkins was able to isolate the raw chemicals and decode the interactions. He also got a sample of muscle tissue and blood from Ken so that the formula could be optimized for the muscle boy. Perkins ran simulations testing the interaction of chemicals on Ken and could barely believe the results. They were right that Ken had a natural predisposition to put on high-quality muscle, but the chemicals amplified his natural abilities. The results showed that Ken could easily be ten or twenty times as powerful as Petrowski. When he was ready, he contacted the sergeant and told him to bring the boy.

Perkins was putting his notes away just as Ken and Petrowski arrived.

Petrowski wore a khaki t-shirt and jeans that bulged and rippled with his move of his muscles. He was a good looking man, but Ken had a quality that upstaged him. The teen’s tussled hair and impish eyes sparkled. He had a perpetual grin and perfect teeth. He carried himself with the confidence of a champion. He wore a black tank-top that fit snugly over his chest and accentuated the his ivory skin. His shoulders were wide and round and his arms big, vascular and defined. His abs were so hard that they bulged through the shirt. He wore a pair of shorts that clung to his thighs. His calves were ripped and hard. A shudder ran through Perkins’s body as he imagined what the formula would do to this Adonis.

“Okay, time for that first treatment, right?” said Ken as he hopped up on the table. His triceps popped into ripped, hard relief as he propelled himself up. He moved his hands to the base of his shirt and lifted, revealing a muscular body with almost no body fat. He placed his shirt on the table next to him and crossed his arms below his pecs.

“What’s the deal doc? Same protocol as with me?” asked Petrowski.

“No, Sargent,” replied Perkins as he took out two syringes. “Ken, I need to give you two injections. The first goes into a large muscle,”

“They’re all pretty big,” said Ken, interrupting. He flashed a smile and bounced his pecs.

“I mean,” said Perkins, regaining his composure, “a muscle like the hamstring or the gluteus maximus.”

Ken continued to grin and extended his leg. His quads split into a river of ripped muscle. “Ya, guess these wheels are pretty big too!”

“Cocky kid,” said Petrowski.

“Don’t you know it,” replied Ken.

Perkins continued, ignoring the banter, “The second injection is given about a minute later in a vain.”

Ken nodded. “Okay, let’s go for it. I guess I’ll take mine in the butt,” he said. He jumped off the table, his legs rippling as the stopped his body. Ken got an evil look on his eye as he dropped his shorts. A massive cock at least 10 inches soft hung between his legs. He turned to face the table. As he bent over, his thick long cock wobbled and hung like a pendulum. “Ready when you are?”

Perkins pulled out a syringe. Ken was flexing and relaxing his glutes. Perkins and Petrowski were use to looking at muscular men, but there was something special about Ken. His glutes were totally ripped—thick banded striations that popped out like rope. The muscle was perfectly convex and round, yet was concave on the teen’s sides where the mass joined to his hips.

“Relax,” instructed Perkins as he prepared the needle. He inserted it deep into the muscle and emptied the fluid. As he pulled the needle out, he noticed a flush come over Ken’s body.

“We need to wait a a minute or so. The next shot goes into your arm,” said Perkins turning away.

Ken jumped bare assed up on the table. His cock hung over the edge of the table and seemed to be growing a bit harder. “This will make me stronger and bigger, right? No lying?”

“Ya kid, just look at me,” said Petrowski.

Ken’s grin turned into a full fledged smile and his cock came more to life. The thought of more muscle obviously turned this kid on.

Time seemed to crawl as they waited for Perkins. Finally, he prepared another needle. Ken was clearly flushed, a redish-pink tinge over his whole body. He was also sporting an erection that had to be at least 13 inches or more, yet seemed entirely unconcerned with it.

Perkins walked over and Ken extended his arm. The doctor found the vain and inserted the needle. As he pulled it out, he bent Ken’s arm and put a cotton ball over the small hole as a drop of blood sneaked out.

“Hold that there til the bleeding stops.”

“Sure, when does…” but before Ken could complete his sentence, his face grimaced in pain. His whole body suddenly flexed as he fell off the table and onto the floor. He moaned and every muscle in his body spasmed. Tears began to run down his face. Petrowski and Perkins ran to him, placing a pillow under his head.

“What’s going on?” screamed Petrowski. “Hang on kid, we’re here for ya.”

“I… I don’t know,” stuttered Perkins. “It looks like he’s seizing, but…”

“It… hurts…” hissed Ken, “cramping…”

Ken’s body was a tight mass of ripped, flexed muscles. Each muscle fought with its antagonist as Ken’s body tried to rip itself apart. The boy’s handsome features were streaked with tears as his body convulsed in pain. His skin glistened with sweat.

Perkin’s seemed like a helpless boob trying to figure out what to do as he watched Ken’s reaction. After a couple minutes, the seizure began to subside.

Petrowski was the first to notice, and his eyes went wide. Instead of getting bigger, Ken’s muscles looked smaller. He was still ripped, but now the body builder’s muscle bellies seemed less full.

Ken got up and saw the look on Petrowski’s face. He turned toward a mirror, and terror came over his face. He flexed his arm, but instead of the near 20 inch bulge he was used to seeing, his arm looked barely bigger than 15 inches. He massive pecs were now flatter, though clearly defined. His wide back looked thin and lean. Even his massive legs looked like a sprinter rather than a speed skater. “What have you done to me? Where are my muscles!”

Petrowski walked over, but Ken turned and pushed him away as hard as he could. Petrowski found himself flying through the air and hitting the wall, his breath knocked out of him. Ken and Perkins were both shocked.

Perkins ran to his computer and typed something in. “I should have guessed!” he screamed in excitement. “Ken, I’m sorry, I should have been more careful, er, examined the data more closely. That first injection, it reacted with your body, your muscles. You see, you know your muscles are dense and hard. Well, the formula amplified that. Your muscles are now far denser than before. They may look like they lost size, but they actually gained mass. That mass is just extremely dense.”

Petrowski had recovered and was walking toward Ken now. Ken lifted his arm and flexed. Petrowski placed his hand on it. It was harder than before, and again he couldn’t crush it. Ken released the flex and Petrowski squeezed hard. Nothing. Even unflexed, Petrowski couldn’t dent the boy’s bicep.

A wild expression entered Ken’s eyes. “Try taking them down,” he said, extending his arms up, palms facing Petrowski.

“No problem,” Petrowski took the kids hands and squeezed. His shirt began to rip as his massive body powered up. He put all his might into pulling the kid’s arms down. Ken felt the pressure increase, and he tensed his arms. First, he felt them begin to move down, then he forced them back. Petrowski began to sweat, and grunted loudly, forcing more power into his arms. Ken stood firm. Petrowski’s shirt ripped more as his muscles pumped with the exertion. Ken screamed, forcing more strength into his arms. Both men where breathing hard, when Ken’s arm began to slowly move down. In the end, Petrowski barely overpowered the muscle stud.

Ken flexed his arm. It looked larger. “Doc, you got a tape?”

Perkins handed him a tape measure. He wrapped it around his upper arm and flexed. He saw the number 17½. “Do they look bigger than before?”

“They probably are,” agreed Perkins. “The formula is working. Your test of strength with the sergeant probably caused some muscle growth. When you go to the gym to lift, you’ll get more of your size back.”

“And I’m still like really hard?”

“That will increase too.”

Ken smiled from ear to ear. “Cool. Then let’s hit the gym. I gotta get my size back, now!” He grabbed his shorts and pulled them on, then walked out of the room.

“Doc, I could barely take him, will he…” started Petrowski.

“Yes Sargent. Apparently, Ken is as strong as you after just one treatment. After he works out for a few days, he’ll be even stronger.”

“Will this help Detrick?” asked Petrowski.

“Maybe. I need to understand what’s going on with Ken’s biology, but I think it might.”

“That’s all that’s important.” Petrowski left, following Ken to the gym.


Jonny spent his Sundays in the lab working on his project. He had analyzed the samples he had taken from Petrowski, and seemed confused. The serum he found in this man was radically different from Mark’s. He tried mixing the two to find that their effects were antagonistic, like one formula tried to overpower the other causing both to fail.

As he stared at the computer, his mind drifted to yesterday’s football game. Of course, City won easily. Jonny had scored 5 touchdowns. The other team threw everything they had at him, and nothing could stop him. He felt his cock begin to creep down toward his knee as he thought about the strength he had. Even so, he wanted more.

After the game, Jonny partied with the freshman players. They were making huge gains as Mark gave them the growth formula. None would be as big as he, but some were getting pretty big. He thought about Adam and Brett and his initial jealousy of their size. Some of these kids would be that big or bigger. Jonny loved flexing for them and watching them get turned on by his hugely muscled body. He shared his muscle with them, and of course, they shared somethings with him. The effects weren’t as pronounced as when he too was getting the serum, but still, after each party, Jonny was bigger and stronger than before.

Jonny regained his concentration and went back to work. The serum from Petrowski had some very interesting qualities, and he hoped to understand them better. He heard a knock on the door and turned. “Come in.”

Jonny recognized the person who opened the door. Josh was a tall, about 6’3”. He was as broad as a barn, and had huge muscular arms. He was one of the freshman on the team, and one of Jonny’s favorites. Jonny’s eyes moved toward the bulge in Josh’s shorts as he thought about the long, fat uncut cock the baby-faced boy had.

“Sorry to bother you, dude, but you asked for the paper.” Josh walked over holding out the local newspaper.

“Thanks man,” said Jonny. “Ya, I always like to read about the game the next day.”

Jonny turned to the sports section. He was surprised to see that City’s victory was below the fold. The headline this week was about State’s landslide win. There was a large picture of Ken Walters. He was shirtless, and flexing his prize winning physique. There was a tape wrapped around his upper arm that read slightly over 21 inches.

Jonny read. Ken was the new star of State’s team. He seemed unstoppable on the field and the reporter had the gall to compare him to Jonny.

‘The state teen bodybuilding champion proved his athletic prowess extends beyond showing off his muscles,’ the article said. ‘On the field, opposing player after player failed to stop Ken Walters from rolling over them and steaming down the field. Ken’s first touchdown occurred just minutes into the game. Given the ball, he lept 20 feet into the air and 20 yards down field, literally flying over the other team. Like the comic book hero the Hulk, he then continued to bound in 10 or 15 yard leaps into the end zone. No opposing player could hope to catch him.’

Jonny frowned that the paper was not praising his accomplishments. He felt like last week’s news. In a couple months, though, he’d have his chance at State and show this upstart what true power is. He looked at the photo of the bodybuilder flexing his bicep. In the background, Jonny noticed another person. The man was familiar to him. Jonny’s eyes widened when he realized the person in the background was Amos Petrowski.

Ken walked into the lab. “Yo, Doc? Petrowski?” No one answered. “Shee-it,” he said, entering the lab and closing the door behind him. He looked around, tossing his gym bag on the floor in the corner. Even though he had first seen this room only four weeks before, it was familiar to him now. He walked over to a mirror and grinned at the man looking back at him. “Fucking huge!” he said.

One month ago he wore shirts that were sized large. Today, those same shirts were far too tight for him. He flexed his pecs, bouncing them inside his quad-XL shirt. His grin became more evil. He turned, looking at the chart on the wall that showed the rapid changes in his body. He started with 19¾ inch arms. Before the second treatment, they measured a little over 21. Before the third, they were close to 28. He raised his arm, flexing his bi. “35” he said, admiring the muscle. The massive bulge in his pants began to grow.

He turned toward a tape player. He had left his posing tape ready to be played. He flipped it on. Immediately, the word “Body!” stormed from the speakers. Ken began to strut to the beat of Funky Green Dogs. Every time the word “body” was sang, he would strike another pose—single bicep, double bi, a rear lat spread that almost ripped his shirt, side chest that made the t-shirt tent over his massive pecs.

The beat slowed. As the tape played, “Oooo, I only live for satisfying you…”, Ken began to lift his shirt, revealing rock hard abs totally exposed—no body fat at all. The abs formed a perfect ridges, a triangle that descended into his skin-tight blue jeans. Ken’s expression changed to surprise as the singer sang “No other man can the things you do, …”. Ken lowered his shirt and strut to the left as far as he could go and still see himself in the mirror. When the singer sang, “I have always been the type of girl who tried to get to a man for his mind, ooh baby,” he slowly pulled down on the neck of his shirt, showing the deep ridge between two massive pecs. As the singer finished, “it’s your body” he ripped the shirt in two, revealing his massive torso and throwing the shirt toward his imaginary audience. As he performed, he bounced his pecs and struck poses that displayed his massive arms, thick pecs, cobblestone abs, B2 Bomber lats, and his mountainous traps. Ken never took his eyes off the mirror, his mind evaluating every pose. He watched as his body flowed smoothly from flex to flex, pose to pose in time with the music.

As the second stanza began, Ken shifted the focus of his routine from his torso to his legs. He moved his hands to the top button of his jeans and popped it. He also took the opportunity to free his massive cock that was fighting to be free. The thick organ snaked up against his abs, past his naval nearly to the bottom of his pecs. Next, he flexed his lats and extended his right leg, flexing it hard. The incredible size and hardness of his legs were no match for the denim, which burst from the incredible pressure of his expanding muscle. Once again, Ken feigned a surprised expression, then duplicated the pose with his left leg. He lowered the zipper of his pants, giving his imaginary audience a view of his slate-hard lower abs. With a sudden jerk, he ripped the pants in two. To Ken, ripping the jeans was as easy as tearing tissue paper. It didn’t even matter, in a few minutes they would be too small for him anyway. He tossed the tattered fabric aside and continued his routine. He heard and ignored the door open behind him.

“Ahem,” said Petrowski from behind the bodybuilder.

Ken stopped posing and walked to the tape, setting it to rewind to the beginning.

“Having fun?” asked the ex-soldier.

“Bigger than fucking Mr. Olympia,” said Ken. “Can’t wait ‘til I can compete again. I’ll make all those pros look like skinny pencil-necks.” He looked at Perkins. “No offense doc.”

Perkins gave him a look.

“Hey, look at this bod! I got symmetry, hardness, and size. I’m the perfect specimen, and I’m halfway through this program of yours. With another four treatments, man, I’ll be frick’n amazing!”

“Are you ready for the next treatment?” asked Perkins, walking over to a cabinet on the far side of the room.

“Been ready. You’re the guys who are late,” said Ken.

“Well, at least you found a way to entertain yourself,” snickered Perkins.

“Hey, when you got it,” said Ken.

“Hmmm, so we heard,” said Perkins.

“Ya, care to tell us what happened last night?” Petrowski asked. Ken looked at the two. Petrowski had his massive arms crossed under his pecs while Perkins prepared a syringe. Ken noticed that the needles said ‘titanium’ on the package.

“Hey, it wasn’t nothing and it wasn’t my fault anyway. We were mugged,” said Ken. “Well, er, I mean they tried to mug us. Five punks. Guess they thought they were tough. They had knives.”

“And?” said Petrowski sternly.

Ken gave Petrowski a look of contempt. “I did to them the same thing I’d do to you. I out-muscled them.” Ken bounced his pecs. He was smaller than Petrowski, but his attitude exuded pure confidence. “I was walking along, talking to my buds. I thought I heard something behind us, but I ignored it. Suddenly, I felt something on my back. It kinda felt like a mosquito or something. Anyway, I turned and heard a ripping noise and saw this runt of a kid holding a knife. The pip-squeak had ripped my shirt! I looked, and there was a scratch on my skin, but the knife, well, it scratched but that was all.” Ken pointed to a little red scratch that went around the left side lat. “I guess maybe I lost it a bit. I screamed, ‘What the fuck!’ and grabbed the kid’s hand. Okay, maybe I grabbed it a bit hard. I didn’t mean to crush the bone, but I got him to drop the knife. I held him while I picked it up. ‘You think this Tinkertoy can hurt me!’ I took the knife and flexed my pecs. I stabbed the knife into my chest, and well, the blade buckled then shattered.” Ken grinned, looking at Petrowski. “You ever break a steel knife on your hard muscle, dude?”

“Never tried,” said Petrowski.

“That’s cause you can’t. You know I’m way stronger than you are. I was stronger than you after my first treatment, and I just keep getting bigger and tougher. Anyway, I picked the kid up like the rag doll he was and tossed him into his buds, knocking them all down. That’s about all.”

“Except for the part about how they’re in the hospital with a variety of broken bones and concussions,” said Perkins.

“So what?” said Ken. “They started it. Ya know, I wasn’t going to say anything about last night, but I’m glad you know. I guess at first, when I started this treatment, I thought I was big enough. I’m state bodybuilding champ! But after each treatment, man, it’s like wow! I can do things now. Look at this bod. Man, I’m fucking indestructible. I’m unbeatable. I’m…”

“Superboy?” Petrowski said with a sneer.

Ken laughed. “Oh, so that’s how you know. Ya, that’s what the guys are calling me. Faster than a speeding bullet. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Not a prob for me. Now. And anyway, I’m way better looking than a comic book hero.” Ken flashed his pearly white teeth, knowing that he had the looks of a male supermodel. “Besides, Superboy had black hair.”

Petrowski reached into his pocket and pulled out a computer disk. “Think you’re tough, huh?”

“What’s that?”

“Just Jonny ‘The Weed’ Romero’s last workout. Swiped it from the gym yesterday when no one was looking. Think you’re tough enough to beat him.”

Ken’s eyes widened. “Doc, give me those shots and I’ll show you how easy it will be for me to wipe up the football field with that wimp. In a few weeks, I’ll be as big or bigger than that show off, and way stronger.”

Perkins walked over. Ken relaxed his muscles. Perkins tried to put the needle into Ken’s thigh, but couldn’t. Ken took the needle and with slow deliberate force, pushed it into his muscle, emptying the contents. A minute later, lying on the ground, he injected himself with the second shot. The seizure came upon him like an earthquake. The building shook and Ken writhed on the ground, his muscles pounding the structure, cracking the floor. After what seemed like an eternity, it stopped. Like each time before, his muscles were slightly smaller, but more defined.

“Let’s get to the gym and see how strong I am now,” he said. His voice seemed a bit deeper. Ken grabbed a pair of shorts and put them on and walked toward the door. He turned, and saw Petrowski talking to Perkins. “You com’n?”

“Be there in a sec. Wanna ask the doc something,” said Petrowski.

Ken walked into the hall.

“Doc, the kid is startin’ to scare me. He’s right. He’s so strong now that I couldn’t control him if I wanted. Think we should cut the experiment short?” asked Petrowski.

The doctor looked down. “I can’t. You don’t know the pressure I’m under. The University wants to see results. They don’t want just to beat City at football, they want to destroy them.”

“The kids probably strong enough to do that now.”

“Maybe, but I’ve been told to go all the way. If the experiment is successful with Ken, they want to recruit others.”

“Ya. I figured that’s what they want. One guy is never enough. They always want more. Well, I shouldn’t keep the kid waiting.”

Outside the door, Ken moved down the hall, muttering to himself. “No way man. I got the power and I want more. No one else will get a bod like this. I’ll see to that.”

Petrowski came out and saw Ken walking away. “Ready big guy?”

“Born that way.”

The two walked to the special gym built to test Ken’s ever-increasing strength. Petrowski noticed that Ken’s body seemed to be filling out as he walked. He’d noticed this before. After the shot, Ken’s muscles seemed to compress, becoming denser. Then for the next few days, Ken grew new muscle becoming bigger and stronger. Perkins tried to explain that Ken had some unique genetics that interacted with the formula, enhancing its effects. The doctor was studying this effect and hoped to reproduce it soon.

“So where do we start?” asked Petrowski when they got to the gym.

“You got squats on that disk?” asked Ken. “Today’s a leg day.”

“Sure. Got everything.” Petrowski walked to a computerized hydraulic squat rack and put in the disk. He entered a code. Ken went to a bar and began to stretch out his legs. The massive hard muscles pulled at his skin as they loosened up, ready for a massive pump. After a minute, Petrowski called, “Ready when you are.”

Ken walked over to the bar and positioned himself. With little effort, he raised the bar, then slowly lowered it, his butt touching the ground before he purposefully lifted it up. He did a second, then third, continuing for twenty reps. He put the bar back. Ken hadn’t broken a sweat.

“Seems real light. Are you sure that thing is working?”

“Think so. Says here that The Weed can do five of at this weight.”

“I think that thing is busted,” said Ken. “You give it a try.”

Petrowski shrugged. He walked to the bar and positioned himself under it. He pressed up, his legs flexing with pure power. Petrowski’s face turned red as he willed the bar up, but it wouldn’t move. He screamed and applying all his strength was able to slowly stand upright. Petrowski could feel the blood rushing in his body. He felt hot and sweat poured down his face as he tried to remain in control while lowering the bar. The weight was crushing, forcing his huge body down. He got his legs parallel with the floor and had to stop. He tried to force the weight up, but felt his strength failing. He was being crushed by the weight. He screamed, demanding more strength from his powerful body, but the weight was too much. “Can’t do it. Help!” he cried to Ken. Ken walked behind him and with his arms lifted the weight up.

“Whoa man! Guess this thing is working. Damn!” The handsome youth was grinning from ear to ear. With the bar in his arms, he began to curl it. He did eight reps with perfect form before putting the bar back. “And the guy does this weight for squats? Five reps! Man, this isn’t a weight for legs, it’s a weight for arms.” Ken flexes a powerful bicep. “These arms.” Ken raised his other arm into a double bicep. Two mountainous arms flexed high and powerful. “These guns are stronger than that wimp’s legs! Can you imagine how much stronger I’m gonna be after a few more treatments. Man, I’m gonna destroy that weakling Romero!”

Ken walked over to Petrowski and pushed him aside. “Out of my way weakling. I wanna pump some real iron and grow this body. You better stand aside and watch what a real body builder’s workout is like.”

Ken ordered the machine to increase the resistance by a factor of ten and began to work his leg muscles, forcing them to grow bigger and stronger.


Across town at City University, Jonny Romero was entering his advisor’s office. “Mark, you got a sec?”

Mark looked up from his computer. “Sure, just reading some e-mail.”

“I think I’ve made some progress on the simulation.” He had gotten Mark’s attention. “I think I’ve figured out why our formula and the other one are antagonists. Each formula is affecting a different part of the cell. When the two combine, it’s too much for the cellular structure and the cell atrophies and dies. I’ve come up with a solution, and ran some simulations and it looks promising. I was wondering if I might get a few vials of the growth enhancer to experiment with.”

Mark’s eyes betrayed his skepticism. Over the years, Jonny had seemed to mature, but Mark knew the stud could never have enough strength. They had tricked him once, and Mark and his friends were the only men stronger than Jonny. Mark still controlled access to the formula, and supervised Jonny’s use of it.

“You aren’t planning on using this on yourself,” Mark asked. He knew the answer. Jonny would probably do one dose right after a fling with one of the freshman. Mark turned a blind eye to this, but it still didn’t hurt to remind the kid that he was being watched.

“No way. Just for research. Honest.”

Mark hesitated, then stood up, his muscular frame rivaling the star player’s muscles. “Okay. Will six be enough.”

“Plenty.”

Mark opened a safe and pulled out a tray of the formula. He handed Jonny six vials. “Let me know how your experiments go.”

“Will do. And thanks.”

As Jonny left, Mark called to him. “You know, Jonny. I haven’t told you recently, but I’m proud of you. You’ve really turned into a fine student.”

Jonny looked back, smiling. “Thanks.”

Jonny sat in the lab. Behind him, two mice wrestled and played. One was large and powerful, the other smaller. The large mouse easily dominated the smaller, but the tenacity of the smaller mouse was apparent. Jonny ignored them. The video tape was recording and he could examine the tape later if need be. He was more interested in the results of his experiment than the nitty-gritty details at this point. In the back of his mind, he knew it was his only hope, but he drove that thought away.

He stared at the scrapbook he was putting together. The Sunday paper had praised his masterful performance on the field, leading City into its fifth straight undefeated season. Below the fold State was trumpeted for its performance, especially Ken Walters, who the paper said “was a one man football team.” The comparisons between State’s star player and Jonny were inevitable.

Jonny scanned the articles from the rest of the week. Each built upon the previous. The expectations about the clash of the two undefeated teams and their powerhouses filled each article. Expectations were high. Jonny involuntarily flexed his pecs and lats, the sound of his shirt ripping his only realization of the tension he was feeling.

He picked up another stack of articles. The first was from three weeks before. It was a news article about a small earthquake felt in the town. The National Geologic Survey said the quake was centered on State’s campus and they speculated about an unknown fault that had become active. The second article was from a week later. Another quake on the same fault, this one a magnitude 4. People in town had felt that one as a minor bump. The third article was from a week later. This one was a 4.9 quake on the fault. The National Geologic Survey was unable to explain why the quakes seemed to be a week apart. The fourth article was dated this week, a couple days before. The article had begun to refer to the “old faithful” quakes. This one was a magnitude 6.5.

Jonny turned and looked at the large mouse. He shook his head, imagining the force unleashed in one of the quakes, hoping that his fears were unfounded. He turned and looked at the newspaper photos of State’s football team. The first showed Ken striking a bodybuilding pose. Each successive image showed a larger, more muscular player. The final photo, taken in the locker room after last week’s game showed a behemoth of a man. Ken was solid muscle, beyond any other man in the room. Jonny had only seen one man larger, and that was when he looked in the mirror. His eyes darted to the photo from the week before, trying to estimate Ken’s phenomenal growth. He felt a shudder travel through his body as he tried to estimate how big Ken would be for tomorrow’s game. Only the squeak of the mice disturbed him. The large mouse was trying to subdue the smaller.

There was a knock on the door. Jonny turned as Josh walked in. The freshman player was responding to the growth formula almost as well as Adam had. He was far larger than any other of the new players. Jonny had always been a bit detached, playing the role of star and role model for the others. In many ways, Jonny had only thought of them as sources of formula to enhance his own growth. Still, the site of this young man, his smile beaming at Jonny caused butterflies to stir in Jonny’s stomach. Without realizing it, Jonny smile back.

“Hi Weed,” said Josh. “Hope you don’t mind me stopping by.” Josh looked around. “Are you busy?”

“No. Not really. Just waiting to see how an experiment turns out.”

“Oh,” Josh looked around. “Well, I, er, well, I know that you were planning on getting together with all of us guys tonight.”

“Ya,” agreed Jonny, building up his confidence. “Thought you guys might want to experience Weed-power before the game tomorrow,” and give me a last chance to grow, he thought.

Josh smiled and seemed to blush a bit. “I, well, I thought, if you didn’t mind, well, maybe I could experience a little bit now.”

Josh looked at Jonny with puppy-dog eyes. Jonny’s heart seemed to flutter. He stood up and stepped toward Josh. Jonny towered over the boy. He looked down at the smaller guy, his eyes soft and caring as he saw the unbridled passion in Josh’s eyes. Jonny moved his mouth over Josh’s and kissed him passionately.

Jonny suddenly felt confused. He had always treated his other teammates as playthings, something to use to grow bigger. They didn’t seem to mind. They got to worship and play with his godlike body—to test his strength and feel the sinewy hardness of his physique. He liked Josh—he was a good kid. But where did this sudden passion come from? Sure, Jonny had felt vulnerable thinking about tomorrow. He was tense about the game and the kid known as Superboy. His guard was down, but could he let someone in? These thoughts and feelings washed over him as he tasted Josh, tongue-wrestling the boy with fervor he’d never experienced before. It felt right.

Josh raised his hand to Jonny’s bicep. His hand was so small compared to the large, firm muscle. Jonny felt Josh caress the bulge, testing its hardness with his hands. As they kissed, Jonny raised his arm and flexed the huge peak. Josh’s hand squeezed hard, barely able to cover the rock-hard mound with his hand. Josh moved closer and Jonny could feel the large, hard bulge in the boy’s pants. Josh sighed, signaling his desire for the muscle man.

Jonny stopped kissing Josh. He looked at the boy, realizing what a handsome and desirable man he was. Jonny smiled. He put his hands under Josh’s arms. Jonny’s grin took on a slightly evil tone as he lifted the man like a rag doll. Josh’s look of surprise quickly became one of lust as he rubbed his hands over Jonny’s massive arms. Josh looked down and began to kiss the powerhouse holding him in the air.

Josh wrapped his legs around Jonny’s waist as the powerful man held him. Josh squeeze, feeling the impenetrable hardness of Jonny’s abs. Josh squeeze Jonny’s mountainous arms, felt his powerful chest and waist. His lust for his hero was evident in the passion of his kiss.

Time slowed as the men kissed, experiencing the power of each other’s body. Jonny was orders-of-magnitude larger and stronger than Josh, but the younger man’s body was still affecting him. Reluctantly, he pulled back and lowered the man to the ground.

Jonny smiled at Josh. It was no ordinary smile, but showed an understanding of the other man’s desires and a willingness to fulfill them. Jonny grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Even though Josh had seen Jonny’s chest before, he gasped at the sight of the huge pecs that hung inches over a perfect eight-pack. Josh stepped forward, wanting to worship this man-god, but Jonny stopped him. Jonny grabbed Josh’s shirt, and like his own, pulled it off. Josh felt so small, but his fears vanished as he once again saw the understanding in Jonny’s eyes. Jonny moved his big hand over Josh’s pec. Josh flexed and Jonny squeezed, humming his approval.

This was too much for Josh, who dove at Jonny’s body. He began licking like an over-eager dog at the massive muscle. Jonny raised his arms and he caressed Josh’s body. Josh found the sensitive area in Jonny’s deep armpit. He licked and sucked as Jonny growled his contentment.

Josh’s hand moved over Jonny’s rippling body. He put his hand into Jonny’s pants, and felt the huge mound made by his massive member. Jonny pulled Josh closer to him, and Josh’s hard mound pressed into Jonny.

“Looks like we’re both getting pretty excited,” snarled Jonny.

“Uh-huh,” whimpered Josh, continuing to clean Jonny’s musky pit with his tongue.

“Let’s see, boy,” command Jonny. He pushed Josh away and began to pull down his pants. His massive rod slipped out of his shorts and smacked against his abs and between his pecs. Jonny flexed his globe-sized pecs and crushed his massive man-meat between them.

A sliver of drool slipped out of Josh’s mouth as he stared at the monster organ. He opened his pants, and his 15 inches slapped up just below his pecs. It was slightly thicker than Jonny’s but not nearly as long.

“Nice meat, boy. Mind if I suck it?”

“Yes sir, please,” replied Josh.

Josh knew what to expect. Jonny would deep throat his meat, and Josh could worship his master’s body. Jonny liked to be in charge. Josh didn’t care. The physical sex was enough. He told himself the emotional stuff was unnecessary. It was just baggage. The sex was just fun, nothing more.

Jonny came over. He moved to Josh’s meat, then stopped. He placed his face in Josh’s groin and sniffed. He stuck out his tongue, and licked around the sensitive parts of Josh’s manhood. A shudder went through Josh’s body. Jonny licked down and found Josh’s egg-sized balls. He opened his mouth and began to suck. Josh couldn’t help but let out a groan.

“Oh, Jonny!” cried Josh in surprise. “Yes, oh that feels so good.”

Jonny sucked a little harder. He felt good pleasuring Josh. Every time before, it had always been about him. He liked the experience of making someone else happy.

Time seemed to stand still again as Jonny’s only concern was Josh and his happiness. He worshipped the younger man’s body, playing with his sex organ and fingering his butt. As Jonny became more attentive, Josh responded with sounds and spasms of pleasure.

“Jonny, why? You never…” Josh cried.

“You don’t like it?” asked Jonny, feeling the Josh’s hard muscles as Josh flexed in appreciation.

“I…” A tear ran down his face. “It’s what I’ve wanted since the first time I saw you.”

Jonny smiled.

“I didn’t think you were interested.”

Jonny’s smile became more serious. “I guess I never realized. I guess…” Jonny paused. Did he want to admit it? He felt his heart reach out to Josh. “I guess I’m scared.”

Josh looked at Jonny. “Why? What could possibly scare you?”

“Losing,” admitted Jonny.

“But that can’t happen!” Josh protested.

Jonny shook his head. “State’s team is good. And Walters, well, I think I know why they call him Superboy.” Jonny turned away. “I think someone found a way to make him stronger than we are.”

“No way!” said Josh, jumping up and grabbing Jonny.

Jonny looked at the ground. “Would anyone still want me if I weren’t the biggest and strongest? I’ve been pretty rotten to people. Using them. I mean, I’ve done some things I’m pretty ashamed of now.”

“I know,” said Josh. “The guys talk. They tell stories about you and Adam during your freshman year. Some don’t like the way you use them, but you’ve changed. Everyone sees it. The other seniors tell us the stories. They say you’ve mellowed over time.”

Jonny let out a soft laugh. “I’m sure they’d like to see me get my ass kicked.”

“Some of them, sure. But not all.” Josh put his hand under Jonny’s chin and made the big guy look him in the eyes. “Not me.”

Jonny looked into Josh’s soft eyes, and his heart melted. He pulled the man toward him and hugged him. Jonny held Josh close and Jonny’s fears melted. “Josh, will you make love to me?”

“Isn’t that what we were doing?” asked Josh, laughing.

“No. I was sucking you. Now, I want to love you. And I want you to love me.”

Josh looked at him. “But, you never let anyone…”

“I know. Do you know why? Because if I did, then that person would get to be as big and strong as me. Josh, I want to give you that gift.”

Josh looked at Jonny in disbelief. “Yes,” he said, kissing Jonny.

With no effort, Jonny picked Josh up, then held him in his arms. He carried him to the far side of the room and placed him on the floor. Jonny lay next to him, Jonny’s face at Josh’s cock and Jonny’s at Josh’s. The two men began to pleasure each other, feeling the other’s muscular legs and butts while their tongues and mouths pleasured the other’s huge man meat.

Josh felt Jonny’s finger penetrate his rectum and press against his prostate. The electric energy of the huge muscle man and the joy he was feeling overwhelmed him. Josh felt his balls retract even as Jonny pulled against them with his other hand. With explosive force, Josh shot his load into Jonny’s eager mouth.

As he climaxed he felt Jonny’s body begin to tighten. Jonny rolled on top of Josh and held him down with his weight. Jonny’s cock exploded with the force of a cannon as his jizz flooded into Josh’s throat. Josh swallowed as fast as he could, but had trouble keeping up with the force and volume of Jonny’s explosion. Jonny came for 30 seconds, feeding his spunk to the smaller boy. When Jonny finally stopped, Josh was dazed.

Jonny got up. His body was red, and as he flexed, his muscles seemed to expand as if after a good workout in the gym. “Oh ya, feel that power man.” Jonny knew that he was growing, but he couldn’t worry about that. Josh was his concern now.

Jonny walked over to the lab bench, ignoring the sounds of two mice fighting. He pulled out three syringes of liquid. He went back to Josh. He stuck one syringe in Josh’s arm, then one in his own. Jonny watched as Josh’s body began to balloon up. His arms swelled with new power, his pecs becoming as large as medicine balls, his abs a perfect washboard. Jonny too felt bigger and stronger, but Josh’s growth was nothing short of amazing. Jonny went to bench and poured glasses of protein supplement.

When Josh’s growth began to slow, Jonny gave Josh the last syringe and fed him protein. Josh’s growth accelerated once more. Every muscle in Josh’s body exploded with size and power. As his back, glutes and legs thickened, Josh seemed to rise from the ground. He drank glass after glass of supplement as Josh grew into a muscle-clone of Jonny.

After several minutes of growth. Josh stood up. He flexed his arms. Jonny stood next to him and flexed. Josh’s arms were now the same size and thickness as Jonny’s.

Josh’s expression was wide-eyed. “I’m fucking huge! I feel, man, I feel amazing, like I could do anything.” Josh ran his hands over his body, then over Jonny’s. “Punch me, Weed. Come on, give me your best. No pulling punches, either. Hit me with all you got!” Josh flexed his eight-pack and smacked his hand against them.

Jonny pulled his arm back and laid into Josh’s flexed abs. There was a loud crack. Josh stood there, unmoved, his hard muscle repelling Jonny’s powerful punch. “Dude! I did it. I’m like superman now. I’m like you.” Josh grabbed Jonny and pulled him close, kissing him.

“Josh, will you come back to my room and be with me tonight?” Jonny asked.

Josh smiled. “You mean share my new bod with my creator? I’d like nothing better.”

Jonny smiled. He walked back to the bench, and saw that the large mouse had now totally cowed the smaller one. Jonny smiled. The large mouse looked bigger than before and paraded around the cage as the small mouse shivered in the corner. Jonny took two syringes from the bench.

“More fun for tonight?”

“No. These are for tomorrow.”

“Weed, there’s no need to worry about that. No one can match you and me on the field.” Josh said.

Jonny threw him a spare lab coat. “I hope you’re right.” Jonny put his own lab coat on and the two left the lab.

Jonny and Josh arrived in the locker room three hours before the game. Normally, the coach discouraged his players from working out before a game, especially a game as important as this one, but Josh wanted to show off his new power.

He and Jonny accompanied the coach into the weight room. Josh wore just a small pair of shorts that he borrowed from Jonny. None of his clothes fit anymore. He flexed and stretched his massively muscled body as the coach stared in awe. The coach was thrilled to see that the freshman could match every one of Jonny’s maximums.

Jonny watched Josh showing off with a sense of pride. “Couldn’t leave you without a star player next year, could I coach?”

“Let’s just concentrate on winning today, okay guys,” reminded the coach as he watched Josh bench press the equivalent of a Mack truck.

“Not a problem,” said Josh as he completed his twelfth rep. “You’ve got two muscle powerhouses on a team of supermen. State doesn’t stand a chance.”

Jonny wasn’t so sure.

As the three left the weight room and walked toward their team’s locker room, they passed the locker room used by the visiting team. State’s team had just arrived and the player’s had begun to prepare for the game.

“Man, Superboy, we should have called you Hulk. You are freak’n huge.” Then the sound of laughter.

“Don’t let it bother you,” said the coach. “We’ve taken them for the past four years, and we’ll do it again this year.”


Mark arrived in his office several minutes before game time. Normally, he would join his spouse Scott to watch the game with their friends Adam and Brett, but he had received a message from Jonny about an experiment that his student had run.

Mark logged into his computer and brought up his e-mail. He turned on his portable radio to listen to the game. The commentators were talking about the expected clash between State’s star player Ken Walters and the invincible Weed. They were wondering whether Jonny had finally met his match.

Mark read the message from Jonny. ‘Doc. It looks like the experiment was a success, at least on mice. As we discussed, I isolated the growth formula from subject P and injected it into one mouse. In the other, I injected the counter formula. A video is at the link below. See you after the game. Weed.’

Mark started the video. It showed two mice, one large, the other small. Jonny had obviously time-lapsed the film, as the mice seemed to be on speed as they jumped all around the cage—the big mouse chasing and intimidating the smaller. Jonny’s hand could be seen giving the small mouse an injection, and when he put the mouse back, it seemed emboldened, confronting the larger mouse. The larger mouse climbed on the smaller, continuing to dominate it. As Mark watched, he began to notice changes. The smaller mouse seemed to be filling out, becoming bigger an more muscular. As it was, the larger mouse seemed to be shrinking. The large mouse was having a harder and harder time with the small one. Soon, both mice seemed to be the same size. The once small mouse continued to advance on his opponent, which seemed confused by its now smaller size.

“And here come the teams!” The radio interrupted. “Man, will you look at Walters. He’s even bigger than last week. This is the first time we’ll see him side-by-side with Romero.” There was a pause. “I don’t believe it. Walters actually looks as big or bigger than Romero! Look at the size of his arms! That jersey is fitting him like a second skin. His shoulders are more massive than the pads. How could they protect him?”

“From the looks of him, I don’t think he needs protection.” said a second announcer.

“They are about to toss the coin, but there seems to be some disturbance on the field. It’s Walters. He seems to be saying something to Romero.”

“I think he’s taunting him, Jack.”

“The other players seem to be trying to keep them apart, and their coaches are screaming at them.” There was a pause. “Jack, are you seeing what I’m seeing.”

“You mean Josh Martin? He looks as big as Romero and Walters! Looks like City has two powerhouses now!”

“Well, this promises to be a very interesting and rough game.”

“Yes it does.. and there is the toss. State wins it. And the game is about to begin.”

Mark turns his attention back to the video. The once small mouse is now huge, and the large mouse has become small and weak. It is shivering in a corner, totally afraid of the mouse it had once tormented. In the corner of the screen, Mark sees two syringes being lifted off the table. Suddenly it dawns on him what Jonny is planning. He grabs the radio and his coat and runs from his office.


As the game began, the two teams lined up on the line of scrimmage. To the observers, City’s team looked like giants compared to the ants of State. The exception was State’s one-man team, Ken “Superboy” Walters. As he got into position, it is clear that he easily rivaled the biggest players on City’s team—Jonny “The Weed” Romero and Josh Martin.

Ken eyed Romero with an evil grin. As they faced off, Walters said, “You’re going down. My new body is way more powerful than you.” Just to make his point, Superboy bounced his pecs and flexed his arms. The Weed heard Walter’s jersey rip, unable to contain the massive player’s huge muscles.

The ball snapped and the play began. City’s defensive line stormed State’s offense, but that was expected. The ball was quickly passed to Superboy, and Ken knew exactly what to do. Using the power in his massive thighs, Ken launched himself into the air toward the end zone. Like his namesake, he seemed to fly as he used muscle power to defy gravity.

Jonny was prepared for this move. Ken had used it in games before. Jonny knew that Ken could leap the 100 yards, and knew how to stop him. Jonny launched himself, forcing his powerful legs to propel his muscular body toward Ken. Two massive men, close to two tons of muscle power, flew toward each other on a collision course. The crowd became silent as they anticipated the impact. When the gladiators hit, the sound of the clash seemed to rock the stadium as impenetrable muscle crashed into unstoppable muscle.

When the echo of the collision faded, a cheer went up from the State fans. Jonny ‘The Weed’ Romero’s unstoppable muscle had been stopped by the power and mass of Ken ‘Superboy’ Walters. Jonny hung onto Ken’s waist, trying to crush and stop State’s powerhouse as the two continued to fly toward an inevitable State goal.

Ken landed in the goal as State went wild. In less than a minute, Ken had scored the first goal and overpowered the biggest player on City’s team. Superboy tossed The Weed off of him as he throw the ball to the ground.

“Finally met your match, haven’t you Romero!” shouted Ken as Jonny started to pick himself off the ground. Ken flexed into a crab most muscular pose, and his football jersey ripped as invulnerable muscle popped through the fabric. Ken prolonged the life of the jersey by controlling his flex so that the fabric ripped and tore around him slowly. Jonny began to wonder just how big Ken was. More and more incredibly hard, striated muscle became visible through rips in the arms, chest and back. Finally, the fabric could take no more and fell from his body, revealing his ripped, tight physique. “Look at this body! Not only am I the state bodybuilding champion, I am the most powerful man around!” Ken stood upright and walked over to Jonny. He flexed a bicep in Jonny’s face. “You crushed this muscle once. Try it now, wimp!”

Jonny tried to walk away, but Ken stopped him. “I said try to crush it!” he ordered.

Jonny put his hand over the massive mound. Jonny’s popeye-like forearms burst into muscle and vain as he applied a pressure that could crush steel. His fingers couldn’t even begin to dent the hard flesh he now felt. Jonny’s fingers began to turn red as his forearm cramped trying to crush the muscle that was harder than any substance he knew of. Ken laughed. “Give up? I can’t even feel that, and I’m not even flexed as hard as I can. Not like the last time, is it Romero? I’ve changed! I’m the one with the power now!” Jonny felt the muscle below his sore fingers tighten. It swelled and push his hand out as Ken bounced and expanded his mountainous upper arm.

“My turn! Flex!” Demanded Ken as he pushed Jonny’s hand off of his arm as easily as someone would shoo away a fly. Jonny stared at Ken, contempt in his eyes. “I said flex,” said Ken, smashing a fist into his hand in an obvious effort to threaten Jonny.

Jonny raised his arm and forced his massive bicep to rise. Like Ken’s, the muscle pushed his fist aside as it grew to its mountainous size. Ken smile stretched from ear to ear as he put his hand on the mound. Jonny fell to one knee as Ken’s vice-like grip crushed into his powerful muscle as if it were clay. Ken laughed as he continued to crush his arm as Jonny tried to get away. Jonny had never felt such pain.

“Let him go!” Josh was running toward them like a train, screaming. Josh dove at Ken. Even though Ken had not been prepared, Josh bounced off Superboy’s body as if he had run into a wall.

“Heh. Your boyfriend come to try and save you, huh Romero?” Josh was up and took a swing at Ken. The punch hit him in the chest, and Josh’s hand cracked as if bone were breaking. Ken grabbed Josh with one hand and lifted him off the ground. “Best leave this to us real men, boy!” With a toss, Josh went flying 110 yards through the air and crashed into the stands on the other side of the stadium. He didn’t move.

Jonny watched in horror as his friend lay at the other side of the stadium. City’s team and coach went running for him, and the team doctor was coming on the field. The referees were approaching Jonny and Ken. Jonny took a play from Ken and leaped as hard as he could toward Josh.

“Ya, go help your boyfriend Romero! This game’s not over yet and I’ll have lots more time to have fun with you!”

Jonny landed next to Josh as the coach and the doctor approached. Josh groaned and tried to move. “Stay still, Josh. I got you.” Jonny picked up Josh’s limp body and carried him toward the locker room. On the other side of the field, he saw two referees yelling at Ken as the coach handed him a fresh and patted him on the back.

“It’s okay, Jonny, I’ll be fine. Let me play. You can’t take that creep alone. You need me,” protested Josh as Jonny laid him on a bench in the locker room.

“Just take care of yourself Josh. Let the doc here give you a once over.” Jonny walked over to his locker and took out a folded towel. Inside, he felt two cylinders. “I’ll handle Superboy.”

The doctor and coach were beside Josh, checking on him. Jonny stepped behind some lockers and took out two syringes. He jabbed them into his leg and emptied their contents. As he pulled them out, he felt dizzy and had to steady himself on the locker.

“You okay Weed? Looks like that guy did a number on you too. You want me to look you over when I’m done with Josh.”

Jonny stood up and began to walk toward the field. “No, that’s okay doc. I feel fine. I better get out there.”

When Jonny got back to the field, his team still had possession of the ball. The score was 7-0, and City had managed to get a couple of first downs. Jonny went back in, and Walters targeted him.

On the first play, Jonny was given the ball and plowed through State’s defense. Though he was fast, Walters was faster. He made the first down, but Walters jumped into him and forced him to the ground.

As Superboy held Jonny down, Jonny began to feel something. It started where Ken touched him, and snaked through his body like an electric charge. Jonny didn’t know what to expect, but the jolt he was getting from Ken was like a star going nova. Jonny felt power exploding in his body, and Ken’s muscles were the source. He grabbed Ken and held onto him, extending the touch as long as possible.

Ken forced Jonny to let go and got up. He seemed dazed. Jonny felt a little stronger, but he knew that it would be some time before he’d match Ken’s power. Luckily, the game had just started.

Play after play City pushed down the field. The team had never had this much trouble before, but Superboy was succeeding in crushing The Weed every chance he got. The clock ticked down, as Walters battered Jonny with his superior strength. With each battering, though, Jonny felt the power transfer from Ken into his body. Each tackle made Jonny stronger and faster. He knew Ken was getting weaker, but Superboy had so much power that any loss was negligible. Jonny felt it in Ken’s touch, which after ten plays was still as vice-like, still as strong, still as electrifying as the first time. The quarter was half over before City managed to score, tying the game at 7 all.

State wasted no time scoring again. Once Superboy had the ball, he crushed City’s defense and ran toward the end zone. Romero was behind him, but couldn’t keep up with the speed and power of Walter’s legs. In a final effort to stop Ken, Jonny leaped at him with full force. Jonny knew his strength, or he thought he did. He jumped with full force and found himself propelled like a rocket toward Ken. He slammed into State’s player with a huge crash that surprised both men, but it wasn’t enough to stop Superboy. Jonny grabbed Ken by the waist and again felt the power flowing into his body. Ken kept running, not slowing at all. Once in the end zone, he grabbed Jonny’s hands and pried them from his body. Again, Jonny lay looking up at Ken’s perfect physique.

“Ya, keep trying Romero. There isn’t anything you can do to stop me. I’m way stronger than you’ll ever be. I’ve got the bod, the muscle and the power. But you keep trying. It’s fun watching you fail.” Ken went back to rejoin his team.

Jonny smiled, flexing his forearm. It wasn’t any larger, but he could tell, it was more striated. The muscles looked denser, and each fiber appeared thicker. Jonny felt like the energizer bunny—more power than ever flowing through him. “Maybe I can’t stop you yet, but soon,” he muttered.

State stopped City from scoring any more touch downs for the rest of the first half. Play after play, Ken ‘Superboy’ Walters trounced any opposition City tried to muster. His incredible leaps blocked field goal attempts. He withstood not only Jonny’s assaults, but even multi-man attempts to tackle him and bring him down. Ken’s one man football team scored two more touch downs as City was only able to run down the clock during the times they had possession of the football.

With every play, Jonny gained more and more of Ken’s strength. He felt his muscles change. They were getting denser. He felt heavier and stronger. Jonny found it easier and easier to keep up with Ken, though Ken didn’t seem to notice. Even though Jonny was getting faster, Ken wasn’t getting any slower. He also didn’t seem to be getting any weaker, which confused Jonny. In the lab, the serum transferred power from one mouse to the other. The same thing should be happening here. Even though Jonny was getting stronger, Ken’s body was as impenetrable as ever.

The gun sounded the end of the first half. The score was State 28, City 7. State’s fans anticipated their first victory over City in any number of years. City fans seemed dejected, but hopeful that the second half would turn things around.

Mark was waiting for Jonny in the locker room. He was talking to Josh, who seemed to have recovered and was eager to return to play. Mark gave Jonny a skeptical look.

“Hey doc! How are you feeling big guy?” Jonny went over and punched Josh in the shoulder.

“Hey yourself,” said Mark.

“The docs say I can play in the second half. I can’t wait to bring that overblown putz down! You and me Weed—no way he can take both of us.”

“I don’t know Josh. Walters seems pretty unstoppable,” said Jonny.

“Do we need to talk?” said Mark, interrupting.

Jonny nodded and he and Mark found a quiet corner as the coach began a pep talk for the rest of the team.

“You took the formula, didn’t you?” asked Mark, not sounding very happy.

“Had to. You see what we’re up against out there!”

Mark shook his head. “Didn’t I teach you how unethical it is to experiment on yourself. Who knows what the side effects might be!”

Jonny laughed, looking at one of the few men more muscular and stronger than him. “Ya, Mark. You’d never use an experimental drug on yourself!” Jonny said sarcastically.

Mark was going to protest, but thought better of it. “Fine. So I’m not the best role-model in this area. But Jonny, you’re my student and I do have some obligations toward you. Besides,” Mark scowled, “I like you. You’ve turned into one hell of a man.”

“Ah shucks dad,” Jonny quipped.

“And what about him,” Mark motioned toward Josh. “He seems to have changed too. Did you give him the formula too?”

“No way! Doc, I know it may be hard to believe, but I, well, I connected with Josh. There’s something about him. I…” Jonny paused. “I think I may love him.”

Mark could not contain his surprise.

“I just did to Josh what happened between us three years ago. I shared myself with him, and he kinda grew. Beside, the team will need someone to take my place next year.”

Mark looked at Jonny, then looked at Josh. “Well, this is a surprise.”

“Ya, for me to. But, can we talk about that later. There’s something else…”

“Ya?” asked Mark.

“Doc, the formula. It’s not working right.” Jonny pulled off his shirt. He bounced his pecs and flexed his triceps.

Mark’s eyes widened. “What do you mean. You look ripped—way more cut than before!” Mark placed his hand on Jonny’s bicep and squeezed. Mark felt his body adapting, becoming stronger trying to dent the super dense muscle. “Damn. And a lot stronger too!”

“Ya, I think so! I feel amazing. But it’s Ken Walters. He seems

just as strong as ever. He should be getting weaker, but he isn’t!”

“Are you sure?”

“When I touch him, I can feel his power. It’s overwhelming! His body is hard as a rock, and surging with energy. I feel it! He should be getting weaker as I get stronger! But the energy is as powerful and strong as the first time I touched him.”

Mark thought for a second. “Do you have any idea how strong Walters might be?”

“Well, you know those earthquakes we’ve been having? I think Walter’s is causing them. When I gave the serum to the one mouse, he seemed to have a seizure or something. I think the same thing is happening to Ken when he gets the serum. If he is, then we aren’t having real earthquakes. It’s the dude’s body hitting the ground that’s causing them. He’d have to be pretty damned strong to simulate a quake.”

Mark continued to think. “How do you know the serum isn’t working? If Walters is as strong as you think, he’s probably holding back on the field. He might be getting weaker. It’s just that he has so much power, you haven’t noticed yet.”

The coach had finished talking and the team was about to return to the field. “I hope you’re right, Mark,” said Jonny, putting his jersey back on.

The second half began pretty much like the first. City had possession of the football, but Walters dominated the field. His might and power over-powering the entire City team. From the sidelines, Mark was impressed that any single man could be so powerful to out muscle his enhanced men.

City succeeded in running down the clock, but failed to get a first down or a goal with only 3 yards to go. State once again had the ball.

By now, everyone knew what to expect. Ken Walters was given the ball. “Time for Superboy to fly,” he said as he leaped into the air powered by massive rippling quads. Jonny and Josh launched themselves after the massive man. Jonny’s thigh muscles now had an astonishing amount of power, and he heard a distinct rip in the cloth around the muscle as he forced power into it. His thighs were like rocket engines as he sped toward Walters. Josh’s legs, once Jonny’s equals, were now substantially weaker but still strong enough to lift him in pursuit.

Jonny crashed in Walters and held on. He began to love the feeling of his body growing stronger and stronger as he held the unsuspecting Ken. Josh crashed into the two seconds later.

For the first time, Ken realized something was wrong. He wouldn’t make the end zone. Instead, he landed ten yards shy, stopped by The Weed and Josh Martin. Their landing was less than perfect. Ken lost his balance and fell to his knees, ending the play.

Ken jumped to his feet and stared at the two City players lying next to him. “What the fuck?” asked Ken, perplexed at being brought down.

Jonny just smiled, got up and walked away. Josh was right behind him.

“Told you we’d get him,” Josh bragged.

Ken easily completed the touch down on the second play. It would be the last touchdown State would get during the game.

Jonny’s strength continued to increase. He managed to gain 50 yards during his next play before Superboy brought him down. Jonny felt the powerful surge of energy transfer from Ken’s body into his own. He also felt something different. As he held onto Ken, he felt Ken’s power begin to wane. His fingers began to dent into Ken’s muscles and Ken had a tougher time fighting free of Jonny’s strengthening grip. When Jonny stood up, the side of his pants ripped wide as his muscles grew and stretched. Jonny felt a tightness in his skin as it stretched over his growing, super-dense muscle.

Jonny scored a second touchdown for City with some help from Josh, who ran with the ball and tossed it to Jonny before Ken could tackle him.

During the next play, Ken once again tried to leap the length of the field. Jonny easily grabbed him. Ken tried to shake Jonny free, but couldn’t. Jonny held tight, feeling more muscle energy flow from State’s star player into his body. Ken and Jonny crashed into the field, a leap of only 85 yards. Ken’s legs tried to absorb his landing, but the force he used to propel himself and the added weight of Jonny were now too much for his once-powerful thighs.

The team of Jonny and Josh succeeded in stopping Ken, who seemed to be getting slower and weaker. The frustration showed on his face every time Jonny approached and brought him down short of his goal. He couldn’t understand how Jonny was now almost as strong as he was. It only dawned on him when he failed to flex out of his jersey that not only was Jonny stronger, he was weaker.

“Something wrong, Superboy? That shirt too big for your body now?” Jonny taunted. He finished with his own crab pose that sent his shirt ripping and cloth flying in every direction. His massive thighs and calves ripped through his pants, revealing thick, hard muscle over his incredible body. The crowd hushed as Jonny stood nearly naked on the field, a specimen of pure male muscle. He walked over to Ken and grabbed his arm, feeling more power transfer between them. Ken tried to break away, but Jonny’s grip was now too strong. Only the end of the third quarter caused the Jonny to let Ken go.

The coach made Jonny put on a spare jersey and pants, but it didn’t matter. With each contact with Ken, Jonny’s body grew. The fabric was no match for his muscle, and had no hope of containing his body. While Jonny’s clothes strained and stretched, Ken began to have the reverse problem. His once skin tight uniform began to get baggy. When given the football, he could no longer leap the length of the field, and had problems getting even 30 yards. He tried to avoid Jonny, who now easily overpowered him. After each tackle, Ken seemed smaller and Jonny larger.

At the beginning of the fourth quarter, City trailed State by a single touch down. City’s fans had come to life, and State could hardly believe what was happening to their superstar and their chances for an undefeated season. Petrowski had appeared on the sidelines and was glaring at Romero.

“What’s happening to me?” pleaded Ken when he noticed Petrowski.

Petrowski shrugged. “Try and stay away from him,” was his only advice.

“I am trying, but he’s too fast or I’m too slow. Can’t you do something?”

Petrowski just shook his head.

“Where’s Perkins?!” cried Ken.

“Gone,” was all Petrowski would say. In truth, Perkins had left for his lab when he realized something was wrong. Cowards always run. He had told Petrowski he was leaving to try and salvage what he could from the experiment. Unfortunately, Mark had recognized him and had seen him leave. The missing person’s report filed on Perkins noted that his lab had been ransacked and his notes taken. Perkins was never heard from again.

City had the ball and now had a decisive command of the field. The former Superboy looked pathetic in his baggy clothes. Once unstoppable, now every City player managed to overpower Ken. Though he was still as large as Petrowski, Ken felt tiny. He hated it. He watched helplessly as The Weed copied his signature move and leaped the length of the field to tie the game. There was nothing Ken could do to stop him.

With five minutes left in the game, State had their last chance to score. Whatever was happening to Ken, he was still their best hope to achieve victory. For some reason, Romero was leaving him alone, and State succeeded in slowly advancing on City’s goal. Ken fought with all his power and might for every yard. Even if they couldn’t score, they still could deprive City of an outright victory.

Ken’s body was sore from being tackled by City’s players. His mind had difficulty accepting that these men who were once so much weaker than he were now his equals. As they approached, he would stiffen his body and try and throw them off, only to find their muscles invulnerable and his lacking.

It was the final play of the game. Ken had struggled and fought to get his team within 3 yards of the goal. It was his last chance. The ball was snapped and the quarterback tossed the ball to Ken. Ken saw an opening and ran. Out of nowhere came Jonny Romero, who appeared in front of him and stopped. Ken tried to swerve out of the muscle hulk’s way, but Jonny was too fast. He grabbed Ken around the waist. Ken fought to get free, but Jonny’s grip was too strong. He pushed against Jonny, who felt like living titanium—his body hard and unyielding.

Jonny grinned, feeling more powerful as Ken’s body came in contact with his. “Up, up and away,” Jonny quipped as he leaped with Ken. In the air, Jonny pried the ball from Ken’s grip and held it. Jonny’s chest expanded with power absorbed from his rival. His legs were like redwoods, and the largest uniform City had exploded off his body as Jonny’s muscles demanded more room. Ken’s once tight uniform flapped in the breeze as they flew through the goal posts. The officials didn’t know to call it an interception or a fumble, but it didn’t matter. City had scored.

Jonny landed just shy of the bleachers. The force of his landing caused the stands to quake and shake, and several spectators screamed ‘Earthquake!’. Jonny tore the baggy jersey off Ken. His opponent still had a championship physique, but nothing to compare with The Weed. Jonny held Ken until he felt the final bit of power drain out of him, leaving Ken with the body he had when they first met. Ken’s bodybuilder physique looked so small now. Jonny dropped him.

“Better get to the gym, boy. I’m thinking of competing next year, and there ain’t no way that skinny body of yours can compete with these muscles.” Jonny walked away as Ken stared at the massively hulking figure.

Josh ran over to Jonny, and Jonny picked him up and hugged him. “Jonny, what happened? You’re so fucking huge!”

“Just more of me for you to enjoy,” said Jonny, kissing Josh as they walked off the field.

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