Mike Hugeman: Super-powered Muscle Whore Ep. 3

[JP71]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]MIKE HUGEMAN[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]SUPER-POWERED MUSCLE WHORE[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray][COLOR=gray]By JP71[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]*Episode 3*[/COLOR]

[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Rise of the Man Handler”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]For a henchman, Artie Pimms asked way too many questions. UltraZen’s Arkadian Stoat tugged at his electrically air-conditioned black mackintosh and tried to remain calm and sane. In truth, he was failing at keeping Pimms from grating on his nerves. If something interesting didn’t happen in the next 60 seconds, he was going to have to cause a public nuisance, simply to keep from going around the bend. Pimms shifted nervously from one foot to the other, surveying his surroundings with an almost pathological level of suspicion. It was abandoned, here at the docks, the perfect place for UltraZen to spring its trap. “Do you think it was a good idea having Lenny place the card in the kid’s wallet, boss?” It was Pimms’ umpteenth question in several minutes. Stoat wanted to kill the obsequious troll in man’s clothing. How in all the cosmos did these “inbreds” make it onto the company payroll anyway? The mind just boggled. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“For the third time, already, I planned it this way, Pimms. The Hugeman has a short fuse, and hates all things UltraZen. How else could I get him to come here? Simmons is about as stealthy as a rhino with whooping cough. He’s almost as bad as you for messing things up. Stillbrook’s arrogant muscle whore will be here, and soon. I guarantee it. Now do me a favour and check your weapon. You may need it. And do it quietly!” Stoat adjusted the settings on the electro-blaster he carried with him, making sure it was set for maximum output. He would only get one shot at this. The only way to stop a man as huge and powerful as Mike Hugeman was with an electro-static force-field that could jolt even the most superhuman nervous system into complete but totally reversible shutdown. Positioned out of sight, keeping to the gloom cast by the shadows of some empty packing crates within the spacious sprawl of the virtually empty Warehouse 108, Mike Hugeman would have to possess x-ray vision in order to notice his adversaries before they noticed him. Stoat silently prayed to St Norris (the Patron Saint of B-List Bastards) that this wasn’t the case.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Within minutes there was a loud, thunderous sound of something heavy hitting the concrete outside. Nearby car alarms sounded as the impact set them off. Young ladies screamed in terror, but then seeing it was the Hugeman, began to get moist for him and wish he wasn’t gay, oh and er... yeah... a couple of dogs barked or something. The Hugeman was really pissed off, as he tore through the docklands, looking for Unit 108. This was causing him to miss his workout. He got madder and madder, and this seemed to make him get a little bigger, which wasn’t a bad thing, he reckoned. But his shorts were about to disintegrate from the immense pressure his inflating glutes and erecting dick caused by pushing outward in opposite directions. When he found Unit 108, he smashed through the large slide-doors, pulverizing metal and wood and whatever else the fucking things were made of, the force of which made him totally lose his shorts. He didn’t care. Looking down at his massive whale-dick excited and pleased him. But he snorted in a rising rage, thinking that it wouldn’t get to be glorified in the gym today, if the day’s events kept causing him to get sidetracked. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Come out from hiding, you UltraZen bastards,” he boomed, his gargantuan roar powered by an incredible set of lungs. He was getting stronger and stronger. He could feel his body bulging all over. He had to capitalise on this effect, but also clear his head to think clearly. When silence returned to the warehouse’s echoed interior, Hugeman flexed, sweet fuck did he flex, greater than he ever flexed before. He squatted down a little, bending his legs at the knees, so that most of his weight was carried by his shimmering quads. He crabbed down into a most-muscular pose, squeezing his balled fists so tight, he could compress coals into diamonds had he been holding them. This incredible pressure, aided by a snarl that added deep russet tones to his cheeks, sent a shockwave of flexing, bulging superpower throughout his exceptional system. Energy crackled in pulses along his body’s veined super-highway, energising his circulatory system to hulk up into overdrive. Massive, thick cords pushed out of a 22-inch neck.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]His body exploded into hyper-muscular relief, which extra inches popping out everywhere, his weight increasing significantly. He couldn’t wait to get this business over with so that he could beat all of his lifting records over at Joel’s Gym, with a full retinue of horny, awe-stricken, paying worshippers gathered around him, just the way he liked it. He would have it no other way. He posed and flexed, flexing huger still, and posed until he could think more clearly. He pounded his granite fists together, sending further pulses of shocking power throughout. Growling and snarling – gruffly lauding his bodybuilding superiority with an exceptional nod to superior masculinity – Mike screamed the place down as his glistening, colossal physique bulged more immensely than ever, muscles bulking up so fast, his skin stretched almost to the point of sheer translucence. His definition was mesmerising. His hulking pecs widened and deepened, and when he bounced them, it took slightly more effort on his part, the mass of the pec-bellies at their greatest so far, so that their momentum seemed more gradual, but no less rhythmic. This pleased him very much, and his hard-on raged with greater impunity.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“My God,” Arkadian Stoat gasped from behind the vantage point of crates, then cursing himself for uttering a sound. He wasn’t gay, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate just how much larger Mike Hugeman had become since last their paths crossed. He had failed, before, to secure the genetic samples he craved in order to experiment with Mike’s unique muscle-building properties. UltraZen thrived on defence contracts. Should they patent an elite super-soldier for sale to the highest bidder, they could become a major world power in their own right. Hugeman was the key to mastering this design. And Stoat, as head researcher for UltraZen Industries, was under a lot of pressure to reel in his prize catch. Today he vowed not to fail. Luckily the Hugeman hadn’t heard him make a sound, so caught up was Mike in his flexing and muscle-gaining. With an enormously delta-shaped back bouncing rays of glorious sunlight back through the skylight through which they came, Mike was oblivious to the stealthy, snake-like advances of Stoat, as he carefully eased his way closer to his quarry, the electro-blaster primed and ready to be fired. Stoat would only have one shot at this. He signalled with a nod for Pimms to ready the overhead net conductor. It would fire from a cylinder high above the Hugeman, something that had failed to catch his eye, fortunately for Stoat. So far things were going by the numbers. But still, caution was the only card to play.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Mike was overwhelmed by his flexing, and the obsession he had with growing, coupled with the rising strength he felt surging in him. His balls swelled with jizz, and he would have to expend it soon before frustration got the better of him. He began to stroke his huge whale-dick, completely awed that it seemed, now, to be at least an inch and a half longer than it had been earlier, back in the hotel room with Ken Preston. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Saint Norris’s Ghost, Stoat mentally gasped, not expecting to get a full sex show from the biggest muscle behemoth the world has ever seen. He was an out and out heterosexual, but if that was the case, why did Stoat feel the front of his trousers getting tight? [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]No, this cannot be. This fucker cannot be turning me gay, he thought, but then lost the run of himself and said the last bit aloud: “I won’t allow it!!!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Hearing this caused the Hugeman to turn around like a whirlwind, just as his cannon dick was about to release its salty torrent.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Several life-changing things happened in the space of one and a half seconds. The force of Mike’s massive discharge spewed forth with the pressure of a fire extinguisher, blasting into Stoat across a distance of about twenty feet. Gripped momentarily by his most powerful self-induced orgasm ever, Hugeman was temporarily paralysed, but that did not matter, for the blast of his jizz knocked Stoat off his feet, sending him sprawling, just as Pimms pressed a button on his remote control, blowing the cylinder above both Hugeman and UltraZen’s head researcher. Stoat fired the ultra-blaster, but something went terribly wrong. Coils of Tesla-like energy arced into the torrent of cum that existed briefly between Hugeman and Stoat, creating a brief circuit through which the gun overloaded. The connection was only a fraction of a second in duration, but the conductor net fell over them both, holding in the charge for a little longer. Dazed and confused, Hugeman rolled around in the net and soon became trapped. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Like an idiot, Pimms sprang to help his boss, reaching out to grab his arm where it stuck out from a gap in the net. Stoat writhed in agony as energy danced impishly across his suffering but scrawny frame. As soon as Pimms touched his hand, he absorbed most of the energy, which now siphoned off into him. He was knocked back into the packing crates, smashing through them. He screamed for all of his worth as anomalous energies scorched him... reshaped and rewrote him. Likewise Stoat was also rewritten to a certain extent. This was a day that would live in infamy, no doubt about it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]When the lightning show eventually ended, Mike found the strength to tear himself free of the confining net. He felt weak and he staggered to his feet, his dick now limp and pendulous as it swung from his movements. “Am I... smaller? Oh please God, please no.” He cleared his head and rubbed his eyes to get them into sharp focus. He looked down at himself... well, his gaze got as far as his pecs and would go no further, for his muscle rack prevented it, it was so bloated and huge. He flexed his forearms and bis, squeezing his balled fists to crank up the flexing to its fullest. He breathed a sigh of relief, for he hadn’t shrunk at all, despite the sapping of his strength. In fact, he thought he might be even bigger. Thinking this quickly energised him and lengthened his dick to a semi-flaccid state. Still a bit groggy from whatever it was his assailant had shot him with, Mike turned to look down at the living mess caught in the net. At first he didn’t recognise the charred, wizened man. Then, as he studied the sooty face a little further:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Arkadian fucking Stoat. I should have known you’d be behind this,” the Hugeman growled. Stoat just moaned something incomprehensible, but appealed to the Hugeman to be freed from the net. He poked an even bonier arm through the netting, hoping the giant above him would take pity on an injured scientist. Hugeman scowled and thought about pissing on the little runt. “Puh-please have pity on me, Hugeman. You can see I’m beaten, finished. I know when I’m licked. At least help me to my feet so that I can check on poor Artie. I think he took the worst of it.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Mike thought it over and bounced his pecs so as to clear some space in his head. Maybe UltraZen would leave him alone, now that Stoat had seen the new, bigger and more powerful Hugeman. They simply couldn’t beat him. Stoat looked old, broken down, emaciated. He was no threat to the Hugeman, Mike decided. And so he extended a huge hand downwards, offering it reluctantly to Stoat.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]When Stoat touched Mike’s hand, he felt a rush like no other. Although his body didn’t change shape or size, he leeched off a great-deal of Mike’s incredible power. Mike, towering above the scientist, felt his legs turn to jelly, weakening to the point of being unable to stand under his own power. In contrast, Stoat snapped himself to a standing position in a trice, almost squeezing the life out of the Hugeman. Instincts that were new to the older man coursed through him, now, and with the merest tug of his arm, wrenched the Hugeman into the air, with force enough to expel him upwards, higher and higher. He crashed out through the roof of the warehouse, soaring ever higher into the summer sky. Stoat watched it happen, marvelling at what he had just done. But how could this be? He decided there was time of analysis later. For now he just enjoyed the worried squeal from Hugeman, gradually fading as distance claimed him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sto...aaaaaa...aaaaat!!!!!!!!!!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“No, dear boy, From now on I won’t be going by that name. Oh no...” He looked at his burnt hands and marvelled, wonderingly, at the crackling, residual static charge that arced between his clawed fingers, energy that seemed to leech the power out of the most powerful man on the planet. Stoat took a new name and shouted it aloud:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“From now on... I will be called... Man Handler!!!!!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]To be continued...[COLOR=yellow]Ep 4:[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[Mdlftr]

BWAHAHAHAHA!

Great humor!

Loving it!

Like a "Raiders of the Lost Ark" cliff hanger!!

What will our entrepid super hero do next, as he flexes his titanic chest plates to help him think?! Will the evil Man Handler take over Gotham City? Err..whatever the name of this burg is...

Will the evil henchman become an evil hunk-man?

Will our hero regain his overpowering strength?

Will his most recent twink customer somehow figure in this storyline again?

The answers to these and other puzzling questions will appear in...

THE NEXT INSTALLMENT!!!

Mdlftr

[arpeejay]

Man Handler!

I like that!

xoxo

Richard

[Lucas88]

Loving every episode...comic book in words...I can see every muscle-infused panel in my head!

[lead guitarist]

JP71, your writing is excellent, besides being red-hot! You have a great sense of humor, right down to the names of the characters (Arkadian Stoat - hee hee!)! Mentions of such concepts as the Patron Saint of B-List Bastards really helps put this over the top. Thanks for contributing this great story! I'm really enjoying it!