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For you who like army experiments and science-fiction techno-lingo just as much as I do

(but as far as I can remember, there is not yet any need to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow).

This continuation could probably need more proof-reading, but here goes.

Dr. Skrefsrud, the timid Norwegian, is still the narrator. That may change in following chapters.

 

Chapter One is found here:

https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5059-project-defender-–-chapter-one/

 

 

 

DISCLAIMER

The following story do contain a small amount of racial slur and homophobia,

a small amount of violence

and sexual innuendo. 

Please do not read further if you are offended 

by anything of the aforementioned.

The author does not sympathize with 

what the antagonist in the story may do or say.

 

 

Project Defender – Chapter Two

 

We kept Jones and Bjarnarsson for observation at Infirmary overnight, and Green agreed to take the night watch. 

 

Their results in the Gym had been impressing. They lifted amounts of weight probably no other living man on the planet was able to lift. Restoring a barbell to its stand, Jones looked at Smith and László part cockily, part beaming. Bjarnarsson lumbered around after the exercises with a smile, but was able to restrain his reaction to a larger extent than Jones.

 

All samples looked more than perfect, so we let them eat breakfast at the Mess with the others. Jones and Bjarnarsson were greeted by cheers in the Mess, and during the following meals, I found the atmosphere less hostile against our scientific team. The nicknames used by Jones began to spread among the crew, which probably was a sign of acceptance. Some of the men stared at Jones and Bjarnarsson.

 

’Nice of y’u ter let us leave de ozzy. Ah feel ready ter hit the iron at the gym aftah brekkie.’, Jones informed us.

 

’Hey, Viking Guy!’, shouted Varga – a 33 year old Hungarian test subject – ’Can you assure us, that your experiment will not shrink our balls? I want to keep mine intact!’

 

The men at Varga’s table laughed.

 

’It is rather Gospodinov’s area of expertise, but as far as I understand, the formula doesn’t replace your own production of hormones, but increases it. Why don’t you ask Jones or Bjarnarsson, if you dare?’ I smiled.

 

Varga’s table roared with laughter.

 

I put down my tray besides the nice Poles, Zielinski and Kowalski, and sat down. Kowalski stared impressed on Jones and Bjarnarsson. Zielinski and Kowalski were eating their egg white omelette with spinach. I had a bowl of porridge. 

 

I chatted with the friendly and polite Poles until, suddenly, a loud quarrel disrupted our concentration. It was De Vries, one of the Dutchmen, and Taylor, the Caribbean-British test-subject, who quarrelled. By the look of it, it seemed that De Vries had bumped into Taylor. The latter’s breakfast lay at the floor.

 

’Watch where you’re going, monkeyboy! I thought this was a project for Europeans? Who let the apes out of the cage? My granddad didn’t leave South Africa for the Old Country for this, I can assure you.’

 

The initially calm Taylor froze rigidly, and his gaze changed into a burning mode.

 

The Dutchman stared arrogantly on him with his green eyes, but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

’That’s not acceptable, corporal.’, Major Murphy said. He had swiftly left the table of honour, when he became aware of the situation. ’This is a warning. Never behave like that again. Is that understood?’

 

De Vries looked down in the floor, with a surly expression.

 

’Is that understood, corporal?’, Major Murphy roared.

 

’SIR! YES, SIR!’, De Vries answered.

 

The other Dutchman, Van Gelder, approached Taylor with a concerned expression:

’I’m so sorry. Most of us from The Netherlands are not like him.’

 

’I know.’, Taylor answered, ’It’s not your fault.’

 

The breakfast-eating men returned to their meal. Van Gelder invited Taylor to his table. De Vries had left the Mess Hall in a hurry.

 

As usual, morning hours were full of scheduled interviews and medical examinations, and when the research team returned to The Lab after lunch, I looked at the list with disappointment.

 

’O no!’

 

Smith, Lamarck and Gospodinov looked up, surprised.

 

’What is it?’, Smith asked.

 

’Look at the list of test-subjects scheduled for this afternoon. De Vries! The man who behaved so badly in the Mess at breakfast, and was a nuisance at the gym some days ago.’

 

When the event happened, Lamarck and Gospodinov had already left the Mess, so I and Smith told them what had happened. Gruber lurked unseen behind the screen in the corner at the neuro-programmer, as usual. László returned from the gym, still sweating.

 

’The Schedule was determined long before this happened. He has to be processed sooner or later, anyhow.’, Gospodinov said. A few minutes later, Green checked the waiting room. Corporal De Vries and Sergeant Varga sat there, waiting.

 

’Ah. A fellow countryman! Hungarian brawn!’, László joked with Varga. The joking manner in which it was said, aside, it was very true. Like László himself, the thirty-three year old Varga seemed to be very interested in physical exercise, and genetically blessed, at that. A hint of envy could be seen in De Vries’ eyes, when he looked at Varga.

 

We repeated the process which Jones and Bjarnarsson had endured, with only slightly enhanced settings. Gruber attentively studied the brainwave patterns of the test subjects. 

 

’Oh! Um. Um. Um… nagy, nagy,! 

Ummm. Igen. Nagy. 

Mmmm… …Jól! Oh, um… kiváló… Mmmm… 

Ungh, ungh… nagyobb! 

Oh, oh, oh! Több. 

Több, több, több: IGEN! 

Uh, nagyobb! NAGYOBB! 

Ough, oh, um, nnn, erősebb! 

Umngh… hatalmas, umngh… roppant, umngh… erőtejlesnek, umngh… óriásiabb, 

umnnngh, óriásiabb, umnnngh, óriásiabb, 

óriásiabb, óriásiabb, ÓRIÁSIABB! ÓRIÁSIABB!!! 

AH! UNGH! AAARGH!!!’, Vargas mumbled and shouted in his mask-mic, unaware of his surroundings. 

 

Under the pressure of The Program, both test subjects had mainly reverted to their native languages, and had given in to the overwhelming transformation experience. A very, very strange sound emerged from the speakers, like someone tried to stuff a leather sofa with raw meat.

 

’Ah! Um, keihard! Uh, 

uh, uhmm… onbreek…mmm, nnnn… 

Aan- OH! -genaam… Ja! Meer! 

Meer! Veel meer! VEEL MEE… UNGH! 

Ungh, ungh, ungh, goed, zo goed… umngh! 

Uhn! Heel goed!!! 

Umnh, uh, unnn… …ben ijzer sterk! 

Ungh, zal… uh, uh, tegenstand… vernietigen… Nnng… 

Ja! Ja! Unnnh! Allemaal… umngh, breken… 

EINDELOOS!!!’

 

De Vries had been the smaller of them when he stepped into the Chamber, but when Green had released them from their IV’s, and Gruber released them from their neuro-helmets, De Vries and Varga were of the same size, about two metres and with chests around 190 centimetres or so. Both had grown somewhat in height, but above all they had developed large amounts of well-defined and well-proportioned muscle mass. If Varga had been well built before the process, he now resembled an ancient statue of Hercules, although clean-shaven and with a buzz cut.

 

Gospodinov and Green were preoccupied with the upcoming blood-tests, and Lamarck and Gruber watched the naked men in the same cool, objective way they would have watched a piece of cold meat for dissection on a slab. I felt awkward and somewhat threatened by the presence of the huge naked men, and I was not alone among the younger scientists to be shaken in my professional calm. A small suggestion of envy could be seen in the glance of László, and Smith’s ears were blossoming in red. With a delighted countenance, Vargas squeezed his chest muscles and biceps.

 

Despite their maturely masculine features, both László and Varga broke up in boyfully delighted smiles, and their friendly warm brown eyes lit up in joyful mischief. They began to discuss in their own language:

 

’… nagyobb mint Vörös Zoltán, Molnar Peter…’

 

I didn’t understand a word, but they seemed enthusiastic. 

 

If the Hungarians’ eyes were filled with delight, the green eyes of De Vries were filled by something much more unsettling, in a mix of smugness and disdain.

 

’Don’t like what you see, Doctor Smith?’, De Vries said with a malicious smile, ’Or perhaps that is exactly what you do, don’t you?’

 

De Vries took a step forward, and ripped the white lab coat open from the embarrassed Smith’s tiny frame. Smith’s crotch bulged inside the fly.

 

’I will not allow a small fat faggot ogle me.’, the enraged De Vries said, and gripped Smith’s throat in an incredibly fast movement. De Vries lifted his other arm, and aimed for a stroke. ’I will not allow any pervert ogle me.’ Smith was suffocating.

 

In the same moment a powerful hand grabbed De Vries’ lifted arm. It was Sergeant Varga. With the crook of his other arm, he grabbed De Vries’ neck, and tried to wrestle De Vries to the floor. The men struggled, and, since they were of the same size, the fight was even. Gospodinov and Lamarck hid in Gruber’s corner. László looked like he was considering joining the fight. Smith sat on the floor, dizzy.

 

Jones and Bjarnarsson had taken up the habit to help the nurses with the amniotic fluid, which was heavy to carry. They now stepped inside the lab door, carrying large plastic containers, and observed the situation for a second.

 

The next second Varga, Jones and Bjarnarsson had achieved a lay-out, and led the delinquent to Major Murphy.

 

Jones had stayed behind while Varga and Bjarnarsson left, carrying De Vries between them.

 

’’ang on a mo’! Glad we could ’elp yuh, Doc. That gobshite divvy of a Dutchman ’ad ed coming. ’e be’aved like a tosser ter Taylor a’ breakfast, and, truth be said, ’as be’aved like a whopper all week, waiting tuh be marmalised.   ’e orta calm down, otherwise ’e will receive a good thrashing by the entire Company. Yuh may be a posh twat, Doc, even a little bit of a pooftah, but yer our pooftah, zapping us all with yer magic machine over there, so for me it is more important tha’ yuh are a good scientist, than wha’ever makes yuh ’orny. Yuh do yer part in the war against the space squid by turning me and me crew into fuckin’ unbelievable fighting machines, an’ tha’s great. Yuh duhn't deserve ter be treated the way tha’ Dutch feller treated yuh. Ah suppose ed is flattering in a sense, tha’ yuh consider me an’ others in d’crew tuh be real bruisers. Just try ter avoid staring tuh much on me, so am Ah boss with ed.’

 

’I never intended to embarrass you or De Vries or anyone else. I am, rather, embarrassed myself.’, Smith answered.

 

’No worries, Doc. I consider yuh a mucker nuw. Cotton me right: Ah will not deny two perfectly straight lads ter ’ave fun with each uvver, after surviving an air attack. Such things ’appen. D’thing Ah not like is ponceyness. Anyhuw, if the divvy cause up any shute again, duhn’t hesitate to tell me.’

 

He patted Smith carefully on the shoulder, and went.

 

The next day Corporal Janssens, one of the Belgians, and Corporal Radu, one of the Romanians, went through the Procedure, and reacted just as well as Jones and Bjarnarsson did. Gruber decided to take brainwave samples of all specimens who reacted well to the treatment, in the hope to soon awake Soares and Johansson from their comatose state.

 

With six successful cases, the mood in the Mess Hall had definitely improved.

 

’You are welcome to sit at our table if you want, Viking Guy.’, Kowalski told me at the queue with a serious expression.

 

When we sat, eating, he asked:

 

’Do you think you will be able to awake Corporal Soares soon? And Corporal Johansson, of course.’

 

While Zielinski and two of the Czech test subjects listened silently, I explained our hopes as comprehensible as possible.

 

’Oi! Doc! You can’t let Jones have this advantage on me. How soon will you put me in the magic box?’

 

’By the look of it, Radu’s wife will be overwhelmed of joy when he comes home. Hey there, Boffin! Can you assure all of us the same marital happiness?’

 

Roars of laughter. Radu throwing a roll on the man who spoke.

 

A proud Janssens shouted:

’Anyone who want to watch when Coach measure how much I lift by now?’

 

When I went to bed at Hall 3-6-3, it was with the feeling of relief and optimism. From now on, everything would probably go better, without any unscheduled hiccups or accidents. 

 

I didn’t know how wrong I was.

 

***

 

I awoke by a sound. 

Subdued noises came from the neighbouring room and the passage. I was sleepy and confused. Barefoot and only wearing a pair of pyjamas, I peeked out in the passage. It was Gruber and Varga.

 

’You will end this stupid joke immediately’, Gruber said in a harsh voice.

’Negative.’, Varga answered: ’You are not a part of The Program.’

’I demand that you obey orders, soldier!’, Gruber said heatedly.

’I am programmed to obey The Program, Doctor. You are not a part of The Program.’

’I am scientifically responsible for this Programme, soldier. Now obey my orders!’, Gruber shouted.

’Negative. You are not a part of The Program. Stay back, civilian. You are not part of this Program.’

 

Varga carefully pushed Gruber aside, and, oblivious of the Professor’s rage, strode away, and found me there, listening. He observed me unimpassionately for a second, and then said:

’You are not a part of The Program. 

You have been found attuneable to The Program. 

You will be integrated into The Program.’

 

When we entered the main corridor, I found Jones waiting there with an almost naked László, who had been pinioned with skipping-ropes from the Gym, and silenced with a towel. Something was strange with Varga’s and Jones’ eyes, like they were drugged, hypnotised or not really there. They bound a towel over my mouth.

 

Without any comment, they led me and László to the Lab, and without further ado, they started the equipment the way they had seen us do it a couple of times.

 

László, who was only dressed in a pair of jockstrap pants, and looked like a drowsy but angry commercial for nutritional supplements, tugged in his ropes, and was red in his face by his attempts to release himself. He was unable to speak, but his gaze viewed Jones and Varga with defiance.

 

’You will be integrated into The Program, Doctor Skrefsrud.’

 

’This is ridiculous. Is this a joke? I am not a soldier, but a scientist. Will you now please release me and Doctor László.’

 

’Incorrect. You will be integrated into The Program.’

 

Somewhat of Jones own personality broke through:

 

’Honestly, Viking Guy. With tha’ starving greyhound build of   yours, ed would be bright ter pack onna few pounds o’muscle.’

 

I was unable to stop Jones and Varga from carrying out their insane plan. Their large and strong hands undressed me and threw my pair of pyjamas on a bench. They swabbed my skin at the spot where my subcutaneous implant was, and administered the IV. Electrodes monitoring my heart were placed at the ordinary places, the neurohelmet over my head, and the breathing mask over my face. I felt the strong warm hands of Varga helping me into the sluice. The doors behind me shut and the doors to the chamber opened. The humming increased in volume.

 

CHAMBER ONE IS [NOT OCCUPIED] AND [WARMING UP]

[Preparing for]

Specimen:

Dr. Skrefsrud

Weight: 68 kilogrammes

Height: 179 centimetres

Chest: 96 centimetres

Waist: 71 centimetres

Arm: 35 centimetres

Thighs: 55 centimetres

 

 

 

 

Theoretically, I knew what to expect, when the machine began to hum softly, but to be present inside the claustrophobic cylinder during the procedure was something entirely different, than to impartially observe and document the process.

 

Weakly, I pounded in panic against the steel and glass walls

of the cylinder. But the entrapment was neither the only reason, nor the foremost reason for my fear. I knew, that soon the machine would expose my mind and my body to a Program built for highly trained soldiers, and highly trained soldiers prophylactically prepared in days and weeks before, at that. God knows what would happen if an unprepared civilian underwent the treatment. I knew my duty in this war:

To use my scientific knowledge in order to help The Boys achieve their highest standard of performance, but not become a useless civilian test subject. It went against all reason – tactically and otherwise.

 

With a gurgling sound the liquid began to pour and stream into the chamber, but the sound quickly changed into a resounding noise reminiscent of a faucet filling a tub, or a small fall streaming into a brook. The level rose quickly.

 

My useless attempts to break free from the cylinder were soon swallowed by the near-oblivious state caused by the analgesic and tranquillising components of the IV-formula devised by Gospodinov and Lamarck. I wasn't fully aware about it, but my body was infused with the genetic modifiers, the hormonal stimulants and the highly concentrated nutrients necessary. My body braced itself, and was primed for the upcoming transformation.

 

When I regained consciousness, I was floating weightlessly in the comfortably warm liquid, and one second of panic over the risk of drowning was quickly driven away by the reassuring hissing from the comfortably tight-fitting breathing mask. Everything was shimmering

in a beautiful blue colour, and the inside of the cylinder had become almost mirror-like, only vaguely hinting about the human shapes moving or standing outside. 

I had been worried before. 

Why had I been worried before?

Everything was warm, pleasant and blue-shimmering now, and very still and calm.

 

With a whirring sound the helmet’s eyeshield lowered itself before my eyes. A black display with brightly coloured text and graphics filled my range of vision, and shut the view of the Chamber out. I saw the digital graphic charts of my present physique and the settings of the Morphogenetic Fields.

 

CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [iNITIATING] [NEURO-PROGRAMMING PROTOCOL] 

 

Suddenly, something began to hammer relentlessly against my mind.

 

No! I don't want to... No! No! 

No, no, 

no, no, 

oh no, 

oh, oh. 

Oh, oh, 

oh, uh, uh, 

uh, uh, ungh, 

ungh, ngh, nng, 

nng, nng, mnng, 

mnng, 

mnng, 

mnng, uh: Sir! Yes, Sir! 

Yes! O, yes! 101 0000… 

 

… 101 0010 100 1111 100 1010 100 0101100 0011 101 0100 010 0000 100 0100 100 0101 100 0110 100 0101 100 1110 100 0100 100 0101 101 0010…

 

I integrated into The Program, and merged perfectly into the Project, becoming one of the test subjects, and evolving into another specimen of the new breed of super soldiers.

Correction: Becoming one of us, and evolving into a part of the unit. 

This individual unit will obey the direction to protect the military unit and all civilians.

This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. No-one will be permitted to abolish or limit the aim of The Program.

This individual unit is now attuning perfectly.

This individual unit of The Program is now becoming enhanced.

This individual unit is now becoming augmented according to plan.

 

Words does not suffice to describe what happened in a matter of seconds:

Instantaneously I became an expert on hundreds of weapon technologies, and my ability to make fast and correct tactical decisions in a situation was intensified in an incredible way.

Close combat skills I never had were now deeply ingrained in my primal instincts, and I didn't feel fear: At least not the sort of fear which paralysed in a situation. I was still equipped with the ability to recognise and assess danger.

 

The mental and emotional turmoil of the reprogramming was fading into focused serenity again. The liquid was warm against my skin, and my body felt warm and comfortable. I opened my eyes, and saw the display still folded down before them. The outline of my present physique stood out against the black background, sketched in blue lines, and the outline of the Morphogenetic Fields was drawn in green as usual. Suddenly, someone outside the cylinder was obviously editing the standard settings, in contradiction to the usual protocol. The cursor clicked on the traps, delts, pecs, lats and every other muscle of the anatomical drawing glowing in green, and made the skeleton taller and more broad shouldered. 

 

For a second, I reacted alarmed by the changes: 

Someone was compromising the safety of The Program, and the green anatomical drawing was now depicting a brutally built titanic individual. The next second I relaxed:

This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program. Another change of settings almost escaped my attention, since the display now folded upwards: Hypertrophic radiation 300%. 

 

I could now see my blue-shimmering surroundings again.

The next moment liquid blue was turned into flaming gold.

 

I had always been absent minded. When sitting at a desk, my thoughts were always preoccupied by the studies and reports I read, not of my physical environment, my bodily posture, or my own breathing. When my legs walked through corridors at hospital or university, my thoughts and my self always wandered somewhere else. Actually, I had never been really and fully aware of my own bodily presence. 

 

It was different now. I felt my heartbeat resound in all my blood vessels, and my lungs greedily drank the oxygen-mixture hissing into my mouth from the breathing mask. And I felt how my personal awareness entirely filled up my body: my hardening torso, my broadening back, my now powerful thighs, my calves. And my arms! 

O, my arms! A hard, warm feeling filled my triceps’, bicep’s, the vein-covered fore-arms, and there was no part of my body, not fingers, nor toes, which was not entirely and perfectly a part of my intense, conscious, bodily presence. For the first time in my life I was aware. Present. Embodied. Physical. Me.

 

That was just the beginning.

Lightning struck. Power streamed into my being. Energy surged into my core.

The flaming gold changed me, transformed my shape, enhanced my physique, transmuted the ore of my existing muscles into the steel-hard, pulsating cords and bulges of unyielding, raw, ultra-masculine brawn. I was oblivious of my surroundings now, ecstatically and deliriously consumed by The Program’s anabolic bliss. Then, this individual unit was optimised and maximised according to The Program.

 

Strange stretch… But so pleasant. 

Pain. Excitement. 

O yeah! Height soaring. So tall, now.

Lava heat in lats, broadening. 

Pump-like, entirely.

Oh, oh, oh, uh! 

The feeling! Massive thighs, and fucking incredible calves. Cannonball glutes.

Dense, hard, ripped, rocky, burning abs!

So hard, mmmnnngh, so indestructible.

Warm, heavy and insane arms. 

Unbreakable arms. Mountains!

Pecs like armour!

Titanic delts. Ridge of granite traps! 

Uh! Uh! 

 

This individual unit fluctuated between being entirely controlled by The Program and being aware of individuality. The desire to grow muscular may have existed in the deep recesses of the unit even before, or it may not, but anyway it now burned with this one focus:

To optimise. To maximise. 

To be a useful instrument of this military unit. My one mission at the moment was, for my brothers’ sake, to increase my ability to run, haul, tug, lift, tear, throw, punch…

 

The change! The powerblaze change!

Growing. Hardening. Defining.

Don’t stop it! 

Don’t end it! 

Raw power charging every atom!

More! 

Unit want more!

Optimise me! Maximise me!

Increasing fire! Increasing power charge!

Yeah! O yeah! Fucking yeah!

So amazing! 

Pervading power…

Yes! 

More! 

Unit will comply. Unit will protect. Unit powerful. Unit… mmmnnngh!

Will use enhanced… Yes! 

Yes! 

… to defend… Yes! …mmmnnngh!

 

I was losing control entirely, and wasn’t aware of which words or sounds I emitted. I dived, oblivious of the outer world, in a sea of radiant energy. I only knew that I craved to be even bigger. The separation between what was my bodily frame and the surrounding sea of energy began to blur. 

It felt like the entire ocean of power gushed into me.

The power ocean filled me.

I was the power ocean.

 

O God! Uh, uh, grow, uh, 

uh, uh, unstoppable, uh, 

uh, uh, big, uh,  

uh, uh, hard, uh, 

uh, unh, unh, unh, power

unh, unh, charged, unh, crackling,

unh, loaded, ungh, 

ungh, brimming, ungh, buzzing, ungh, umngh, 

umngh, umngh, mmmm, ah!

Mmmm, ah! 

Mmmm, AH! 

MMMM AH! 

Ah! Ah! 

Ah! Ah!

AH! AH!  

I AM INVINCIBLE!

…!

 

I had become a living weapon. 

 

When this individual unit regained consciousness, the liquid was fading, and the surface of the liquid was at my waist. The liquid no longer kept me floating in weightlessness, and I had to stand on my feet. My large feet felt vaguely unusual for me, but anyhow I knew that I was perfectly able to use them in close combat. The receding solution revealed to me the feeling of this heavyweight body and the faces of my team-members outside the hypertrophic chamber: Worried but awe-struck (László), embarrassed but excited (Smith) and triumphant (Jones and Varga). 

 

When only a negligible amount of remaining liquid was whirling at the bottom of the glass cylinder, it opened, and Smith relieved me from the breathing mask and the neuro-helmet.

 

’I don’t know what to say’, Smith murmured.

 

I eyed one of the screens, which still reported my new statistic data in light blue letters:

 

CHAMBER ONE IS [NOT OCCUPIED] AND [iN STANDBY MODE]

Specimen [leaving chamber]:

Dr. Skrefsrud

Weight: 197 kilogrammes

Height: 205 centimetres

Chest: 203 centimetres

Waist: 109 centimetres

Arm: 79 centimetres

Thighs: 101 centimetres

 

’The insurgence of the test subjects is unnerving, and their insane idea to meddle with the settings made me worry for your and Green’s lives, but it doesn’t seem to be that dangerous. Quite contrary, as it seems. Do you feel alright?’

 

’Green?’, I asked.

 

’Yes. As soon as they had placed you in Chamber 1, they put Green in Chamber 2. Do you feel alright?’

 

Outside the cylinder I began to notice the full consequences of the process. I was looking down on Smith who eyed my abs before he reached up to remove the IV tube. My vivid memory of once being a hardgainer now seemed as a bad joke. My broad shoulders were melons of marble, and my chest consisted of well-defined steel-hard pecs, separated by a deep valley continuing downwards between the cobblestone abs. My upper body had achieved a perfect V-shape. I felt confident, energised and content.

 

’I haven’t felt better in my entire life. Trust me. This is incredible, truly incredible.’

 

Smith swallowed.

 

’You look indescribably well, Skrefsrud, although I feel a little bit intimidated by you. Will you please help me to release Green from Chamber 2, so we can discuss the problem of the test subjects.’

 

’The problem?’, I asked. ’Which problem?’

 

’O come on, Skrefsrud. I mean the insurgence. They can’t use the lab against our permission, and experiment on persons who are not even test-subjects. We have to awake Major Murphy or Captain Melnyk.’

 

’I see no problem. You are attunable to The Program. This individual unit will do everything necessary to optimise and maximise the performance of himself and of The Program.’

 

’O God! It can’t be true? You have become one of them!’

 

’I am a part of The Program. 

You will become a part of The Program. 

Do not worry, citizen. You will become an enhanced and augmented unit. 

Jones enjoyed the procedure.

Varga enjoyed the procedure.

I enjoyed the procedure.

You will enjoy the procedure.’

 

Jones and Varga observed with equal amounts of sense of duty, glee and compassion, when I began to undress Smith, who looked like a trapped animal. Intense fear shone from his eyes, when I put the neurohelmet on his head, and fastened the breathing mask over his nose and mouth. The experience of standing naked, surrounded by three insanely muscular men, of which one was stark naked and two were uniformed, seemed to involuntarily cause conflicting emotions in Smith. He sported an obvious hard-on.

 

I pressed my powerful hand to his tiny shoulder, in order to steady him when I placed the IV tube in his subcutaneous membrane. He panicked, but his voice became inaudible when I closed the doors of the hypertrophic chamber.

 

Next, we released Green from Chamber 2. He had reacted well to The Program, and followed it as dutifully as expected, but, by unknown reasons, he hadn’t grown entirely as much as myself. Jones, Varga, Green and myself were one in purpose when we turned around, and looked at László.

 

During the struggle before my transformation, László had maintained a cocky and defiant attitude towards Jones and Varga, but now he sat bound to his chair with his shoulders sloped in a resigned expression. Jones let me free László from the ropes, and in silence László began unprompted to undress, and stepped into Chamber 2. His resigned expression was mixed with something else, and when I administered the IV-tube, he looked on me with an eager smile. Anticipation shone from his warm brown puppy eyes.

 

’I have worked out my entire life, Skrefsrud. If this is my destined way to achieve my dreams, so be it. I very much doubt, that I will resist the treatment the way you and Green tried. Bring it on, soldier! All you have, and then some. Fiddle with the settings if you believe it will benefit The Project. See you on the other side.’

 

Jones closed the doors, and Green activated Gospodunov’s anabolic formula. In order to alleviate Smith’s fear, the tranquillisers and analgesics were administered in a somewhat higher dose.

 

We looked at the screen:

 

CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL]

Specimen:

Dr. Smith

Weight: 85 kilo grammes

Height: 170 centimetres

Chest: 106 centimetres

Waist: 96 centimetres

Arm: 30 centimetres

Thighs: 66 centimetres

 

CHAMBER TWO IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PREPARATORY PROTOCOL]

Specimen:

Dr. László

Weight: 92 kilo grammes

Height: 176 centimetres

Chest: 121 centimetres

Waist: 81 centimetres

Arm: 48 centimetres

Thighs: 66 centimetres

 

’Which settings do we prefer?’, I asked Jones and Varga. They thought for a few seconds.

 

’Let’s experiment. You don’t know the outer limits of the procedure yet, do you?’

 

The four of us looked at the screen. After some thought, Green adjusted the balance of the nutrients slightly. Jones asked about the levels of hypertrophic radiation, and, after a discussion between myself and Green, we combined a 350% level with an increased saturation of nano-particles. We modified the morphogenetic field even further than during the processing of me and Green.

 

Thirty minutes later, Lászlo roared in excitement.

 

’Make me into one of them!

Make me… Yes! Make me into one of you!

Yes! Yes! Make me into one of…

Uh, uh, uh, into one of us!

Yes, yes, YES! Sir, yes sir!’

 

His speech faded into guttural noise, when the proficiency and behavioural patterns were implanted into him. He hadn’t resisted The Program.

 

We turned our attention to Smith’s Chamber. He was awakening for the reprogramming.

 

’Don’t meddle with the settings! Let me out! 

Are you still out there? The walls are like blue mirrors now. 

I can’t see you. Hello? Are you there? 

Don’t put the machine on. 

Ouch! I’m burning! Ah! Ah!’

 

We were able to see Smith from the outside of the Chamber. The translucent cylinder revealed his small, pale and portly body floating weightlessly in the blue solution like a dark-haired pallid pear.

 

’No! I will not! I will certainly not!

Will… Mmmm. No. Not!

Mmmm… No! I refuse! I…

Mmmm… We will… I…

Mmmm… Oh! The Program!

Mmmm… We… Uh, uh, uh, ah, ah…

Mmmm… SIR! YES, SIR!’

 

His body stiffened and arched a moment, but then relaxed. The reprogramming took over, and Smith’s pulse slowed down from the dangerous rate Green had monitored cautiously. After a while the usual humming sound began and increased in volume, until the golden lightning bombarded László’s and Smith’s defenceless bodies. Through the golden red flares the outlines of our new recruits were only dimly seen, but it was obvious that they grew in height and muscle mass. Body fat swiftly burned away from Smith under the pressure of the energy-consuming process, and hints of an emerging six pack could be faintly traced.

 

The screen reported their changes better, than an observation of the actual chambers did, since the light from the bolts and surges was nearly blinding in the beginning of the process. The anatomic charts in blue lines were gradually moving closer to the surrounding charts in green lines. 

 

Inside the chambers László and Smith murmured, grunted and groaned without coherent sentences, lost in their intense experiences, in a manner not unknown for anyone who belonged to The Project himself. Smith’s voice had deepened into a pleasant bass. From the fragments of their moaning, it seemed like they were able to see their own reflections in the inside surface of the chambers.

 

From the speakers connected to László’s mask we heard:

’Oh. Ah. Oh. Mmmm. Ah. Fucking pump!

Nnnn. Uh. So awesome! Oh, yes. Oh, yes!

Oh, my abs! Mmmm. Ah.

Fucking Lesukov pecs! Coleman back!

Love this feeling. Uh. Ah. Oh!

Better than exp… Oh! 

Yes! 

More!

Ripped! Mmmm, ah!

Look at these! Mmmm. I’m so… oh! Uh. Yes! 

Brutal! 

Beyond! Nnnn! Nnng! Will defeat… Uhnnn!’

 

From Smith’s mask-mic we heard:

’Yes. Yes, yes.

Attuned… Nnnn.

Enhanced… Nnnn. Um.

Augmented… Nnnm.

Resist every… Nnnm.

Mmmm. Immense!

Mmmm. Herculean!

Mmmm. Powerboast!

Oh! Gigantic! 

Titanic! Oh! Oh! OH!

This unit… mnnn… defend … Oh. Ah. Oh!

So full, tight, hard, oh, uh, uh.

Mmnngh, massive, mmnngh, brutal, fucking, oh, 

nnnh, ah. So… uhnn, uhnn.’

 

Through the raging glow of the hypertrophic radiation we saw László and Smith change.

 

László had been in very good shape already, but even he was changing. He was taller now, and more broad shouldered than before. His shoulders were like volley balls, and were still growing. His twitching pecs were like basket balls pulsating of their own life. His abs were like tightening tennis balls cast of some strange uncrushable metal.

 

In the case of Smith, the ongoing transformation was even more sensational. His once fragile and unhealthy appearance had lost all traces of bodyfat, and now loomed inside the Chamber, like some tall, overwhelming muscular living monument, purposely designed to instil wariness, respect and awe in the beholder. He was built by unbelievably powerful, still growing, muscles contracting and pulsating in the glow of the empowering emissions of buzzing hypertrophic bolts. His enormous bull-neck and insanely defined abs, obliques and serratus made it hard to believe it was the same man. His chin had grown larger and was now indented by a little dimple. He had been well-shaven at the moment he had been forced into the Chamber, but now his chin and cheeks were covered in short, dark stubble.

 

The transformation process just went on and on, for a longer duration and with more extreme results, beyond what we had thought possible. Jones and Varga looked fixedly on the men in the chambers. The golden light from the rays illumined their facial expressions of obedience to The Program, pride over their new recruits, and awe before the intimidating and insanely bulging behemoths of bronzed steel inside the cylinders, radiating confidence, superiority, ultra-masculinity and strength.

 

Green checked the screen. 

 

CHAMBER ONE IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL]

Dr. Smith

Weight: [213 kilo grammes] [AND INCREASING]

Height: [209 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Chest: [210 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Waist: [118 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Arm: [82 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Thighs: [110 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

 

CHAMBER TWO IS [OCCUPIED] AND [RUNNING PHYSICAL REPROGRAMMING PROTOCOL]

Dr. László

Weight: [215 kilo grammes] [AND INCREASING]

Height: [211 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Chest: [212 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Waist: [120 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Arm: [85 centimetres] [AND INCREASING]

Thighs: [109 centimetres [AND INCREASING]

 

The charts in blue lines almost conformed to the charts in green lines, and the difference between the charts diminished every second. The grunts and moans from the recruits changed into bellowing roars of excitement.

 

’Big! 

Big! 

Big, big, big, big, big, oh fucking ah!’

 

Process intense! Uh, uh, uhngh! Affirmative!

 

’These… Oh, yeah! And these… O my God!’

 

’Oh, in-du-rationof … mnnngh! 

Ah, oh, uh! Achieving!

 

’Uhnn, uhnn, uhnn, ah, oh, ah, ah. AH! AH! AH!

Yes! Yes! YES! YE… AAH! 

AAAH!!!

THE POWER!

…!’

 

Optimising!

MAXIMISING!

Nnngh, mnnngh, 

AAH! 

AAAH

NGH!!!’

 

The humming sound from the chambers subsided, the thunderstorm in gold abated, and the fluid flushed into the draining gutter. When the chambers had become free from the liquid, the test subjects stepped outside. 

 

***

 

For me and Green it was obvious that we now had enough useful data about a healthy way to execute the Procedure. 

 

’Lieutenant Jones. The data needed for reawakening of Corporal Soares and Corporal Johansson are most probably gathered by now. The Program demand their integration and reinstallment.’

 

’Yes, it does, Doctor Skrefsrud. This will be undertaken.’

 

While Jones and László went to Infirmary, the now uniformed Smith looked at his goggles on the desk:

’I have no use for these anymore. My sight is perfect after the morphogenetic treatment – a positive side-effect we hadn’t considered.’

 

He grabbed his spectacles with his huge hand, and crushed them into pieces, throwing the remains in the recycling boxes for glass and metal.

 

A few minutes later, the thuggishly built Jones held Soares’ fragile and defenceless body in his powerful arms, with a concerned and protective expression. He cradled Soares’ unconscious body carefully, and gave me the impression of an alpha male wolf protecting a wounded cub. Similarly, but even taller, and with his brutal build, László loomed at the far end of the Lab with – the already slightly transformed – Johansson.  Only a man built like László could have been able to carry Johansson on his own.

 

The synthetic amniotic fluid in the chambers was replaced by a cleaning chemical and emptied. The machines were already warming up for another step for The Program and some of its recruits. Several hours remained of the most eventful night of the experiment.

 

The story continues in

https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7120-project-defender-chapter-three/

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Nice continuation, that's a really interesting setting you made. I'm looking forward to seeing how the story will evolve, how big the guys will get and what will they do.

 

Though I have to say, Jones' accent is a bit too overwhelming for me, it's hard to read.

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When it comes to Jones, he is intentionally hard to understand. He reflects my personal experience of Merseyside and Yorkshire, and a handful of persons from Newcastle. When a mainland European like Skrefsrud in the story, and me in real life, are exposed to regional British English we suddenly realise, that what schoolbooks and BBC presenters taught us is not the entire truth. Several mainland Europen characters in the story complain about Jones' accent. Personally, I think that Jones' accent make him more endearing. His dialect will probably be more understandable if you read to yourself what he say with a low voice. Some northeners may look very dangerous (in both a bad and a good way!), and it turns out they have a heart of gold. Northern English steams of testosterone. And it is hardly any Etonians that join the Armed Forces: British politicians send working class youth to be cannon fodder in Afghanistan, cutting young men with the life before them down like straw. We live in a sad world.

 

I edited this answer, since I obviously had confused you and Alexdrake with each other - don't ask me how.

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  • 4 years later...

The transformation of Dr.Skrenfdrud is a masterpiece! I never get tired of reading it, watching him change, to become from a scientist to a weapon is perfect

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