The Superman App: Chapter 7

[JP71]

[COLOR=gray]I didn't have a whole lot of time, this past week. So this is a shorter chapter. It's a build-up to LOTS of muscle-action in the next chapter. So I hope you enjoy it.... and PLEEEEESE comment, y'all. (Hopefully I caught all the typos, eeek)[/COLOR]




[COLOR=gray]Previous Chapters: [COLOR=yellow]1,[/COLOR] [COLOR=yellow]2,[/COLOR] [COLOR=yellow]3,[/COLOR] [COLOR=yellow]4[/COLOR][COLOR=yellow], [/COLOR][COLOR=yellow]5[/COLOR][COLOR=yellow], [/COLOR][COLOR=yellow]6[/COLOR]
[/COLOR]




[COLOR=gray]SEVEN.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Derek felt a lot better after a few solid hours of uninterrupted sleep. He’d hoped that Simon would have slipped in beside him at some point during the night, but he respected him for allowing him time to mend and to put his injuries from the previous day behind him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Good morning, Derek,” said A-Sop pleasantly enough when he detected an increase in his owner’s respiratory rate following his emergence from a state of sleep.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“What time is it?” Derek yawned and rubbed crusty sleep out of his eyes. His tongue felt dry as cotton. He craved water.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“It is 09:36 hrs and forty-two seconds, Derek. You have no messages as of this time.” A-Sop was a joy to experience. He could organise Derek’s entire existence if Derek permitted him to.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So my ma must’ve had a good night last night, if she forgot to check that I was even in the house. Mind you, she rarely rings me for anything anyway. But I suppose I have her to thank for bringing you into my life. Don’t suppose you know how many hands you passed through before you ended up on my kitchen table, do you?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I regret to inform you, Derek, but that information is not available, prior to the first activation of my OS at approximately 11:22hrs yesterday morning. From that point onward my database has been compiling data near-constantly. My processing capacity can be clocked at five trillion, six hundred million, five---”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Yeah, yeah... enough of the techno-jargon for now, A-Sop. It’s too fuckin’ early for it.” Derek’s stomach pains had lessened through the course of the night, but he was still tender where it mattered most, and it took a bit of extra effort and care as he swung his legs out from under the duvet in order to place his feet on the floor. He suddenly became aware of a new sensation. He began aggressively scratching his right palm and wrist. The more he scratched, the more pronounced the itch became.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“What the fuck?” Then he remembered: this was the same palm and wrist upon which A-Sop had etched his warranty in Chinese characters. It only showed up, too, when the super-phone scanned it with a particular beam. It hadn’t bothered Derek yesterday, so what had changed since then?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Do that laser thing to my hand, like you did yesterday. I want to see if anything’s changed.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“As you wish, Derek. Please hold your hand up level with my emitter.” Derek did just that and A-Sop scanned his itchy flesh. At once the hidden text appeared beneath the sweeping blue haze of the scanning beam. Something was indeed different. The Chinese script had been completely transformed into...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Ones and zeroes? But what does all this shite mean?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I believe it to be binary code, Derek, a somewhat vintage string of 8 digits, arranged to provide a computer operating system with a set of complex instructions. I can interpret the code string, but as it is incomplete, I cannot execute the instructions or tell you what they are intended for.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“And why the fuck not?” There was really no need to lose his cool with A-Sop. The super-phone was bound by the limitations of its programming, although having witnessed the amazing things that device was capable of in less than 24 hours, it was difficult to accept that A-Sop had limitations of any kind whatsoever, aside from the flaw that only permitted the Total Body Enhancement App to work in scry mode.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Protocol-17 prohibits me from utilizing the information encoded in this string, even if it was a complete one, Derek. My apologies.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Derek looked troubled when a very muscular and scantily-clad Simon came in with a tray supporting two mugs of instant coffee and a plate of digestive biscuits. He kicked open the bedroom door a tad too forcefully and almost took it right off its hinges. The force was enough to dislodge a dartboard from the opposite wall, which came down with a heavy thump. Downstairs in the living room, stewing in a night’s worth of piss, Simon’s ma slept right through the racket, her clothes ruined by wine and vomit stains.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sorry, I’m a kitchen virgin. Ma rarely goes to the supermarket, unless it’s for booze. It’s just instant coffee, and the biscuits are a bit on the stale side.” Simon set the tray down on the bed and noticed the troubled look on Derek’s face. He moved to kiss him, but Derek turned his head away, not meaning to, but it just happened like that.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“What’s up?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That portal thing last night... that appeared over this bed? I think the hands belonged to people, or maybe things that used to be people. It’s too science-fictiony to get my head around. Any more ibuprofen?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I gave you the last of it last night. Your head still hurting? I’ll roll us both a couple of joints.” Simon didn’t like the way Derek was now furiously tearing at his itchy hand and wrist. He stopped him at once, took the hand in his own and calmed him with a soothing hug.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You had a hard time yesterday. Your nerves are playing havoc with your brain, is all. The joint will sort you out. No more talk of strange creatures from other dimensions or whatever.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“But you saw them too,” Derek remonstrated anxiously. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“And the portal came from a beam generated by A-Sop.” Simon picked up the super-phone and placed it on the bed between them.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Right, Mister. I want an explanation as to what happened in the room last night, and what could have happened had I not intervened.” This was directed solely at A-Sop.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I regret to inform you, Simon that Protocol-17 prohibits me from commenting on the event. Should I attempt to do so, my OS will be shut down... permanently.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Well that’s a fucking crock of shit right there,” said Derek, suddenly distrusting A-Sop for the first time since activating him the previous morning. He shot Simon with a most solemn expression. “Do you really want to undergo more enhancements, when we don’t know what A-Sop’s hidden agenda is?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I assure you both I have no such agenda. I was created to be of benefit to mankind and nothing more.” Was there a mote of humility in A-Sop’s speech synthesiser at that time? [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“What about the previous 16 protocols? Can we access any of those?” This was Simon’s attempt to think outside of the box. He’d never felt so amazing, so powerful in his entire life. The desire to maximise these feelings had quickly become an addiction.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Protocols 1 through 16 were intermediate procedures relative only to the creation of my OS. They bear no relevance to my current operational status and therefore cannot be accessed.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Maybe we can take you to someone who knows electronics and phones and shit. They could open you up and have a look inside. Maybe learn to access all of your protocols.” Derek had become frantic, not just from the itch, but from fear of the unknown. Things had become creepy and worrying because of it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I cannot allow that. Any attempt to compromise my internal components will void my warranty and send me into a permanent shut-down mode, including the full erasure of my OS. I am sorry Derek, but I would prefer for things to go on as they are. I assure you both, I mean you no harm. I exist only for your benefits.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Let’s just see where this takes us, eh? I feel amazing. A-Sop is a wonder-tool, not a weapon, Derek. Without his help Wacker Nolan and his goons might have killed you stone dead. You owe him your life, so try showing him a little gratitude.” Simon was right. Derek instantly brightened. And things got better afterward when Simon found some calamine lotion and used it on Derek’s hand and wrist, which he then bound up firmly with a bandage made from one of his old shirts. This got him thinking about his overall wardrobe and how he had outgrown most of his clothes. The thought made him hard, but he was going to have to go shopping, and soon.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He put it to Derek: “Fancy a trip into town today?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I’d rather stay here with you and play with your muscles... and everything else.” Derek sipped his coffee. It tasted like crap. Not that he’d ever eaten crap, mind.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon smiled broadly and flexed both of his biceps before his boyfriend. Two hard, gorgeous peaks blasted upward, followed immediately by snaking veins that cut upwards through his tight skin, cracking along the full length of his arms, right to his wrists. He felt like he could put his fists squarely through concrete, not that he intended to do that in case he knocked out a wall in his bedroom. Derek’s eyes grew saucer-sized in his face. Drool and precum immediately began to flow.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You’re still sore from the attack. I don’t know my own strength, so in the heat of the moment I’m afraid I might hurt you unintentionally. Besides, I’ve barely got a stitch to wear. I need clothes if I’m ever to be a force in the world.” He chuckled and kissed Derek sweetly, but briefly, on the lips before skipping across the room to a dresser beside his PC desk. Half-way there he felt the need to get something off his thickly muscled chest:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I’m sorry about yesterday.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sorry about what?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I raped you. That was wrong.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“We went over this yesterday. I totally understand. Besides, I grew to enjoy it towards the end. I know you wouldn’t ever intentionally try to hurt me. It was just the enhancement filling you with stronger urges than you’ve ever felt before.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Hearing this made Simon smile warmly. “Still though, I need to learn to control myself. I just find you so fucking sexy, Derek Malone.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He turned to the dresser. On top was a Playstation 2, not hooked up to anything. Derek watched with mild interest as Simon picked up the console, prized open a panel at the back, and removed a rolled-up wad of Euros. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That’s not a very secure place to keep all that dosh,” said Derek as he forced himself to go for a stale digestive.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You’re right. I guess it’s time to build my Fortress of Solitude,” Simon jested, as he removed about two thousand Euros from the roll that easily added up to three times that much. Dealing hash still paid a lot more than camming sessions, but he hoped that this personal statistic would soon change.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“What’s a ‘Fortress of Solitude’?” As if Derek Malone didn’t know.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon stopped what he was doing and forced one eyebrow upwards. Then he adopted the stance of a superhero, chest out, hands on hips, and legs slightly apart, although there wasn’t a cape or an insignia to be seen.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You’ve never seen a Superman movie, or read a comic?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Er... I saw about half of the last Superman movie... the Kevin Spacey one. But it was shit. Although, the special effects were..... HOLY SHIT YOU LOOK LIKE HIM.” Derek’s mouth fell agape, and a piece of biscuit dropped out and landed in his coffee. He nearly dropped the mug as well.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Who, Kevin Spacey? Yeah, I get that a lot,” Simon mocked, and his sarcasm was almost palpable.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You know who I mean. That bloke that was Superman... Brandon something.” Derek wasn’t very good at recalling the names of actors and celebs, for he was anything but a media junkie. He watched the X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent, but that was about it. Television and movies just didn’t interest him. However, this reaction was purely for Simon’s benefit. Derek had seen ALL five Superman movies, even Supergirl (although he would take that one to his grave). And the fact that Simon resembled both Brandon Routh and Christopher Reeve was what first attracted Derek to him in the first place. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Brandon Routh. Yeah, I think I look a lot like him. I loved him in Scott Pilgrim. He was really good, especially as Clark Kent, in Supes Returns. It’s just that the story sucked so much. What was Singer thinking?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Well you’re way better looking than Brandon Routh now. You must have about forty pounds of extra muscle on him. I thought he was too skinny to be Superman. I’m sure I’m not alone on that one.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Feels more life fifty pounds, to be honest,” Simon beamed, pulling a full-lat spread, which he did almost perfectly, followed up with an earth-shattering most-muscular pose that simply cracked his muscle-bod into striation after striation of tungsten-hardness. A tent soon appeared in his boxers as already weakened seams began to quit against the strain.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Damn I want to jump you so badly, you gorgeous, sexy fucker. Damn this fucking pain. I could kill Wacker Nolan a dozen times over.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He’s paid his debt to us, believe me. And don’t worry. I wasn’t too hard on him. Anyway, let’s not spare him another thought. So then, are we on for town or what? We can get more ibuprofen for your pain, and I’ll bring a couple of joints.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sounds like a plan,” said Derek, brightening considerably.[/COLOR]




[COLOR=gray]After showering and preparing themselves for the day, the boys caught a Number 14 bus to town, a journey that would last no more than twenty-five minutes, depending on traffic. Both were wearing full tracksuits, and it was fortunate that Simon had enough of them in his wardrobe so that Derek could borrow one, without first having to go home and change out of his soiled gear from the day before. He also gave his mother a call, via A-Sop. Her phone was switched off, but he left a message, telling her he was okay and that he’d stayed over in a mate’s gaf. He would see her later. Simon, too, checked up on his mother, once she’d emerged from her stupor. Heavy words were exchanged, which culminated in doors being slammed and so on. But Simon really didn’t care about his mother any more. He’d gotten her into rehab before, but she always fell off the wagon within a few weeks. She was a lost cause, a woman forever lacking a maternal instinct. Oh well. Time to move on.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I feel fat in your clothes,” said Derek to Simon as they smooched on a backseat in the upstairs saloon of the bus. They had the whole upper deck to themselves, well for most of the journey so far.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That’s because you are fat,” growled Simon, as he sucked Derek’s face with enough force to cave-in his slightly chubby cheeks.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Fuck off, I’m only a bit flabby. Besides, you like it, don’t you? And I still have something that you can only envy,” said Derek, pleased that Simon seemed to be acting with care enough not to hurt his already tender midsection.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Mmmm, I’m envying it right now,” moaned Simon, as Derek guided his hand down to his crotch, where his 13.5-incher throbbed in response to his boyfriend’s advances.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The lads got carried away. However, their carnal pursuits were soon halted when the bus stopped to allow two junkies on board. The fellahs were scumbags, high-school drop-outs, under-achievers, mostly stoned and in a perpetual state of “detachment from the normal universe”. Simon shot them a casual but cursory glance whilst Derek covered up his ostensible hardon with a Nike baseball cap he’d borrowed from Simon. The junkies sat adjacent to the new lovers and immediately began to roll joints. Simon recognised one of them, a guy he sold hash to more than once.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Damn, and I was fucking enjoying that and all,” Derek whispered, clearly disappointed.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Yeah, well I don’t want it all over the estates about us. I have a reputation to maintain. Even more so, now that I have you to protect.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Derek went rigid and seemed to draw back from Simon in their seat. “What do you mean by that?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Nothing... but I came to your rescue last night, is all. Well, with help from A-Sop, of course. Look, I didn’t mean anything by that.” And in a more whispered tone: “You’re my fellah now, and I want to look out for you. I’m not saying that you’re incapable of looking out for yourself.” Simon beamed a beautiful, albeit slightly shaky smile at Derek, hoping he hadn’t put his metaphorical foot into anything unsavoury. Simon ventured to put a powerful arm around Derek, and Derek allowed him to do so. There, no harm done. Then:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Are you two faggots?” The voice sounded slurry, vowel-sounds dragged-out and deformed by the effects that drug and solvent abuse had had on the brain’s speech-centre. It came from the junkie that Simon had sold to in the past. His mate looked on, drooling, not from sexual-attraction, but simply because he couldn’t help it, a residual side-effect of a botched tongue-piercing and too much Solpadine in his system. Simon spun around and glowered at the duo. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Like you’re the option?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He wasn’t surprised that neither scum-junkie recognised him, as he’d physically changed quite a bit. There was also no denying the fact that their permanent lack of lucidity had something to do with it, too. Still though, dosed up or not on whatever it was they liked to dose up on, both junkies simultaneously went on the offensive.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Er, shouldn’t we get off at the next stop? You said you’d check the off-licence for my wallet,” said Derek somewhat nervously, although he tried not to make the tremor in his voice sound apparent. Okay, so he had nothing to fear, now that he was paired with a super-strong hunk like Simon, but from a psychological perspective he just wasn’t in the mood to be part of more hostility and violence two days in a row.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That can wait, darling. This “waste of air” needs to be taught how to properly address people,” Simon insisted, as every part of him seemed to expand outwards – causing threads to snap in various parts of his clothing – as he moved upwards and out of his seat. The first junkie gulped nervously when he saw how much space this “faggot” took up once he was standing before him. And his tracksuit looked way too small for him. The other one, the drooling one, just sat there and gawped vacuously as his mate froze halfway towards standing up with knees quaking.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon clamped vice-like fingers around the scumbag’s throat and pulled him so close that their noses were in danger of touching. The scumbag’s nose was encrusted with blackheads and whiteheads. It was quite gross to behold. He also smelt like he hadn’t washed in a month. Simon tried not to retch. “Guess you’re the homophobic type, huh? Did you know that sixty-six percent of homophobes are closest homosexuals?” Simon wasn’t sure if this statistic was true or not, nor did he care.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Maybe that makes you and your slobbering friend homosexuals.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Simon, go easy on him,” Derek cautioned as he began to sweat from sheer anxiety. “There’s a camera on the bus recording all of this.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So what, the bus company never does a fucking thing about stopping junkies shooting up down the back of the buses upstairs. Maybe it’s time I went vigilante on their arses.” Simon had a point. Although Derek and Simon liked a joint, neither one of them ever lit up on a bus. It just wasn’t fair on the other passengers, and it was downright shitty, having to sit there whilst the upper deck filled up with hash smoke initiated by rude, inconsiderate fuckers. Besides, what had Simon to fear... getting into trouble for putting two scumbags in their places? Surely though, damaging Garda property – as he had done so to the cop car that previous night – would be considered a much more serious offence. Back to the subject of homophobes...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I think you and “Dribbles” there might be secret homosexuals.... or faggots, if that’s easier for your brain to comprehend... fewer syllables and all that.” It was plain to see that Simon was now enjoying himself. The other junkie, upon hearing the word “dribbles” just about managed to ascertain that this was directed at him. He galvanised himself shakily into coming to his mate’s defence, but he could barely manage to stand on his feet as the bus turned a moderately sharp corner.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Let’s put it to the test, eh? I want you to French kiss Dribbles there, providing you don’t drown in his drool.” Simon whirled the scumbag around and began pressing him towards his mate who was now sitting again. Despite his struggles to get free, the scumbag was well and truly powerless to resist the incredible strength he felt from his well-built but sudden adversary.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Geddafffuckofffme!!!” There was no point trying to resist, although it was like trying to push a cat through a small gap, getting the two of them to connect.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Simon... just leave them. Let’s go,” Derek protested. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I want to see them kiss, honey!”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“A-Sop, can you do something to smooth this one out?” Derek held the super-phone close to his mouth in a hand that had become slick with sweat. He almost dropped the miraculous device as nerves got the better of him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I have already tapped into this vehicle’s on-board surveillance system and rendered it non-functioning, Derek. There will be no electronic record of this event.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You’re talking as if you’re now in cahoots with Simon. Can’t you give him a mild shock or something? This is fucked up. What do you think?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I am not programmed to express opinions of my own, despite I am self-aware and have the ability to think on many levels, about a great many things, trillions of things simultaneously, within my computational matrix, of course.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Fuck this. I’m getting off,” Derek decided. He pressed the bell-button and shot up suddenly from his seat, causing a dart of pain to grip his ailing midsection. Angry footfalls carried him down the small stairwell as the bus began to slow towards its next stop.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Derek got off on Angel Street, which was two stops after the one nearest to Grogan’s Off-License and Tobacconist (where he hoped his lost wallet could still be found with the lottery ticket still inside). Simon didn’t follow, so caught up was he in his new self-made form of entertainment. The bus-stop was right outside a Newsagent. Derek decided to check the status of the country’s biggest lottery win of the year thus far. Sure enough it was advertised in big lettering on a sheet of A4 taped to the store’s only cash register: “One winner of Lotto Draw jackpot of €11,894,623. Ticket purchased in North Dublin.”[/COLOR]
[COLOR=gray]The jackpot had jumped another two hundred thousand Euros before the draw took place, just as A-Sop had predicted. Derek sighed with a heavy heart. He quickly made to leave the shop just in time to see Simon racing towards him at speed. He’d obviously gotten off at the next stop and covered the distance between in a matter of seconds. Simon stopped him at the shop entrance.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Why’d you get off the bus like that? We’re only halfway to town.” Simon didn’t sound aggressive enough for Derek to feel worried, but still, his tone could have been a bit friendlier.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Why do you think? Does your sudden ascent to superhero status mean you can throw your weight around like you own everyone?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“They fuckin’ deserved it, calling us faggots,” Simon defended, his upper body inflating to such an extent that seams began to come apart as his pecs and delts inflated further. Would the sweat-top even survive a trip to town?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So what? Those narrow-minded fuckers are incapable of uttering anything other than stuff you don’t want to hear. A-Sop said that he’s for our benefit, so that doesn’t mean you have to play the big man at everyone who so much as looks at us the wrong way. Wacker Nolan was a different matter altogether. But those two didn’t do anything to deserve what you did. You’re lucky that A-Sop tapped into the bus camera and switched it off, or else you might have brought the Gards our way again. Last night was too close for comfort.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon remained silent as he considered every word. Then: “You’re right. It was wrong of me to assault them the way I did.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So how’d you leave them, after I got off the bus, I mean?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Unconscious. Dribbles fainted and as soon as I let go of Blackhead Nose he fainted as well. I swear to you, I didn’t hurt them beyond the little wrestling match you saw before you got off. I promise not to do anything like that again.” Simon attempted a beautiful, albeit somewhat shaky smile. Derek didn’t respond immediately. But eventually:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Come on... let’s check out Grogan’s for my wallet. If luck is with me, it may have been handed in, although I seriously doubt it.” The twosome left the shop, unaware that their brief conversation had caught enough of the Newsagent’s attention to prompt him to pick up the phone and dial a specific number. As soon as he was connected, the thin, middle-aged Asian man spoke softly, but with a modicum of excitement to his tone of voice. In Mandarin he said: [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You can rest easy now, Mister Tang. It would appear that your property has been located. That is correct... the Alpha Series Omega-Pi unit. Two teenagers, one looking rather... enhanced? I heard them say Grogan’s Off-Licence. Isn’t the proprietor one of your non-compliant beneficiaries? I see. Very good, Mister Tang. It pleases me that I can be of service to you as well as contribute to your business. Thank you, Mister Tang. Goodbye.”[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]To be continued... Click [COLOR=yellow]HERE[/COLOR] for next part.[/COLOR]

[muscl4life]

I am enjoying the story so far. Maybe A-Sop changes Simon into a superman of sorts...I wonder who else he might find.


Congratulations!

[2bored]

Interesting twist perhaps at end. Can't wait for Simon's next augment.

[portamivia]

Hmmmm so there are evil forces out there, nice! Can't wait for the next level...

[umlerian49]

A sudden left turn! Can't wait...

[Hunk Golden]

I can see the change in Simon's attitude... becoming more like Clark Kent in some respects. I'm looking forward to more enhancement, increased powers and perhaps a new superhero? I think Simon is going to need a superhero costume soon... keep up the writing... this is a great story!

[msclundylvr]

Another intriguing chapter. Good stuff this is!