The Superman App: Chapter 8

[JP71]

[COLOR=gray]Note from the author: I've decided to really ramp up the action in this chapter, and it's the longest chapter so far. It's got muscle-growth and muscle-vs-muscle action, which I hope goes down well with you all. Please note, however, that Simon's character makes some derogatory racial remarks that might be seen as offensive by you Asian readers out there. Please understand that this is just a story and these remarks are by no means a reflection of how I regard other ethnicities. Please be aware that no offence was intended. Many thanks,[/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]JP71[/COLOR]



[COLOR=#808080]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=yellow],[/COLOR] [COLOR=yellow]7[/COLOR][/COLOR]






[COLOR=gray]EIGHT.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]It was past lunchtime by the time Derek and Simon arrived outside Grogan’s Off-License and Tobacconist. The shutters were still down, which was understandable, considering the raid from the night before. Simon decided to rap knuckles on one of the shutters nonetheless.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Anyone in there?” He thought he heard sounds of movement coming through metal and concrete, but his enhanced hearing was still in the process of calibrating itself. A-Sop to the rescue.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Can you pick up any human heat signatures inside, little buddy?” Simon spoke like a superhero might to his resourceful sidekick. So, if he’d designated A-Sop his sidekick, then what did that make Derek: his sidekick’s butler with the very big dick?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Yes, Simon. I am reading one such signature. Male-sized... approximately 1 metre 75 cm tall and weighing roughly 72 kilograms. His vascular system is in a state of hyper-agitation commensurate with a panic attack and/or asthma seizure. I cannot be entirely sure from out here.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That’s John Grogan, the owner. He has asthma. I did a week’s work experience in there when I was sixteen, and he took an attack right in front of me,” said Derek, glad to be of service. He was still uptight with Simon following the incident on the bus. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]That was all the muscle-hunk needed to hear. So, he’d played the role of saviour the night before, bus bully to helpless scum-junkies less than a half-hour ago, and now he was about to potentially save someone’s life. He could have leapt right over the roof of the shop in order to locate the rear-entrance obviously used by the proprietor to gain entrance, but in broad daylight that would have attracted too much attention. Instead:[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]He hunkered down into a squat, causing Derek’s boner to tent out his jeans when he saw the most beautiful and sexy bubble-butt further stretch the cotton/Lycra weave across the seat of his sweat-pants. His crack was plainly visible through the thin fabric, dark from the sweat of his exertion. In this position Simon gripped the padlocks securing the shutter bolts in place and heaved with all his newfound might. The metal tried to resist, and made a very good job of it, too. But after half-a-minute or so, the locks gave in with a couple of loud snaps. Simon hefted the shutter upwards and then effortlessly forced open the door by making a battering-ram out of his shoulder.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Sweet mother...” was all Derek could say as he followed the superman inside. Simon immediately came to John Grogan’s aid, who by now had collapsed behind the counter, his inhaler lying somewhere beyond his reach. Simon found it easily, and soon had the middle-aged shop-owner gasping on it for dear life. It was the second asthma attack to occur within these walls in such a short passing of hours, Wacker Nolan having suffered one during that previous night’s raid by the biker phantoms. Whilst Simon helped Grogan to compose himself, Derek instructed A-Sop to scan the store for the lost wallet. The super-phone came up empty. It was hopeless. The wallet was gone forever.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Th-thank you, lad,” said a most grateful John Grogan, when the asthma seizure had passed and he was again breathing normally.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Just doing my duty, sir,” said Simon, who was beginning to sound like Superman, and not just look strikingly like him.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I think you two deserve a free trolley-dash around the shop. Five minutes to fill your trolley with as much as you can. It’s the least I could do,” Grogan said, finding a stool upon which to sit. That was most generous of him. You could get a lot of booze and cigarettes into a trolley in five minutes, even more so if you had super-speed at your disposal. Simon considered the reward, but then thought of his alcoholic mother stewing in her own body-fluids, unconscious to the world whilst her liver slowly turned to Swiss cheese. Derek immediately began to go for a trolley, but stopped in his tracks when Simon almost cut him in two with a shake of his head.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Can you tell us what happened, Mister Grogan?” Simon was genuinely interested in what he’d witnessed at the off-license only the night before, specifically its aftermath.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Call me John,” said Grogan, extending a hand to shake both Simon’s and then Derek’s hands. “Good to see you again, Derek,” he added, remembering the Malone boy from his work experience a couple of years before. Derek said nothing, still in a state of semi-shock from the loss of the all-important and life-changing lottery ticket.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Well I wasn’t here last night, obviously, so the lad I employ took the brunt of it. He’s okay, though. A bit rattled but none the worse for wear. They got away with about a grand or so, I’m not entirely sure until I take an X-read from the till and cash off the float, but I wasn’t allowed near the register until the forensic team dusted it for prints. They left a few minutes ago. It was my own fault. I left here in too much of a hurry, yesterday, and should have made a cash deposit to the bank. Guess I’ll know better next time.” Grogan didn’t tell the whole story. He was a paying contributor to local “business entrepreneur” Mister Tang’s protection service. The bikers were his debt collectors. He’d missed a payment, just one, but that was more than Mister Tang could tolerate. He knew what would happen should he fall behind once again. It didn’t bear thinking about.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Which reminds me, I should really phone my insurance company,” Grogan said, his hands still shaking as he fumbled with the phone’s handset.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“We might take you up on the trolley-dash some other time, John,” said Simon with a sympathetic smile, “You sure you’re okay?” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Grogan shakily nodded. Simon placed a boyfriend’s hand gently on Derek’s shoulder and ever so slightly pointed him towards the exit. “But I want to get hammered tonight, Simon. Free beer, man.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Maybe when you’re injuries are fully healed, yeah? Besides, I thought we were going clothes shopp---” Before Simon could finish, he saw and felt a powerful boot come crashing through the glass pane of the shop’s already damaged front door. Glass shattered inwards and the kick to Simon’s chest was powerful enough to send him flying twenty feet across the shop floor and though a set of double doors which opened into the delivery bay and cellar area. Simon’s strong, hard, muscular body crashed into Grogan’s ice machine with enough force to severely dent it and render it inoperable. Slightly dazed, completely alarmed by what had just happened, for the next few seconds Simon couldn’t do anything. Back in the main shop area two biker phantoms, their black visors obscuring any signs of humanity, barred entry to the shop, whilst their ostensibly bigger, but equally concealed master, stood head to chest with a suddenly petrified Derek Malone. A-Sop was constantly aware of everything going on, although he was in one of Derek’s pockets. The super-phone immediately activated its obsidian shielding.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The phantom had to be at least six feet six inches in height. Derek was only about five ten, plus the biker was huge, with shoulders vast and mighty, and boasting an apparently huge, muscular body squeezed into tight but functional leather. He removed his helmet and tossed it over his shoulder, to where it was caught easily by one of his subordinates barring the violated doorway. John Grogan recognised him immediately as Wesley Tang, only son of Mister Tang, and also leader of The Faceless, the name he gave to his band of motorcycling miscreants. Barely out of his teens, the kid was huge and menacing, obviously some kind of genetic freak to have grown so big and muscular. This was his second visit to the off-licence, the first having been with his father several years ago when he’d been far less the size he was now.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Haven’t you taken enough from me for now? I promise not to miss another payment to your father. Now can you just please leave?” Grogan huddled in a corner behind the counter, probably looking as pathetic as he felt, he imagined. Wesley regarded him cursorily as he flexed muscles in his neck, causing bones to crack like gunfire. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“What makes you think I’m here to see you, little man?” Wesley’s accent was pure North Dublin, a heavy, masculine brogue with an evidently guttural twang. His father had moved from Hong Kong to Ireland in the mid-seventies to establish a restaurant business, which soon evolved into something of a crime syndicate, once Tang Senior partnered with some of Dublin’s most depraved crime lords. Tang bided his time and learned all he could. Then, as he grew in power and influence, he did away with each and every one of his partners, which saw his business grow along with his power. His connection to organized crime in Hong Kong and the Chinese Mainland was well documented. Interpol and various other intelligence agencies near and far kept an eye on him, but Mister Tang always seemed to slip past their watchful eyes. It seemed he had acquired quite a legacy to pass on to his Irish-born son. Wesley was obviously a keen bodybuilder, and his strength seemed amazing, even greater than Simon’s. Should Derek be worried? [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Yes. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Which of you has the phone? Is it you, or the pathetic piece of shit I just kicked into next week?” Wesley lifted Derek up by the throat until they were at equal eye-level. Muscles, huge and bloated with blood, flexed and bulged along his arm, causing the leather sleeve to creak in defiance. Derek flailed wildly, his feet now dangling several inches above the tiled floor. Wesley held him firmly, not intending to crush Derek’s windpipe, although he easily could have done so had he chosen to. It was strange, the things you sometimes think about when you are in danger of having your lights snuffed out... permanently. All Derek could think about right now was how handsome and ruggedly masculine Wesley looked. In fact, Tang was easily the most handsome-looking Asian Derek had ever seen, in real life and in movies. But the most alarming aspect of all of this – this sudden descent into chaos and the fear it invoked – was that others knew about A-Sop, and now the super-phone’s safety was in jeopardy.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Aghhk...aghhk,” Derek tried to form words, but he only succeeded in accidentally spitting in Wesley’s angular, manly face. At this point Simon burst back through the double doors he’d been kicked through less than two minutes before. There was blood staining various parts of his sweat-top, and he could feel blood trickling down his back from a gash across the back of his neck. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I have the phone, Fried Rice. And if you want it, you’re gonna have to get it from me. Now put down my boyfriend or else I promise to wipe the floor with your pretty chink face before I rip your arms off and ram them up your underlings’ arses!” Seething with rage and still as-of-yet untested strength, Simon might have done better than to provoke Wesley the way he did. But fuck it... Wesley had already struck the first blow.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Those words will easily get you killed, insect,” growled Wesley as he tossed Derek to one side. Luckily Derek had a soft landing, well... of sorts, when he came crashing down into a shelf crammed with three flavours of Doritos. The air in the bags cushioned his fall, but his weight made dozens of them pop open and unleash their crushed contents. The smell of cheese and spices soon filled the store interior. Tang’s subordinates took out their nunchucks and brandished them threateningly, but their master held up a gloved hand to stem their movements. He wanted Simon all to himself. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Roaring maniacally, the two super-muscled men flew at one another, fists blazing with power and hate. They seemed equal in strength, although Wesley seemed to be adept at martial arts, and towered over Simon, whereas Simon had no technique whatsoever. But what he did have that Wesley didn’t, were superior reflexes, which just about made them evenly matched. But evenly matched wouldn’t win this particular contest. Simon would need to get one over on Wesley, and soon.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon needed to get Wesley away from where he could still cause severe injury to both Derek and Grogan via the bodybuilding answer to collateral damage. If only he could undergo another Total Body Enhancement. He could easily end this fight in a flash, if only he could get bigger. Gritting his teeth, his anger rising along with superhuman rushes of adrenaline, Simon managed to swing Wesley right around by a full 180 degrees before shrugging off his vice-like hold on both of his arms. He landed a chop to each of Wesley’s temples, temporarily stunning the Asian giant. Then he kicked him squarely into the crotch, causing him to wail in pain. Half-way towards doubling over, his gorge rising from the kick to his jewels, Simon sent his battering-ram fist into Wesley’s face, knocking him through the double doors and onto the same ice machine that had broken Simon’s fall minutes before. It was then that Simon noticed the trapdoor to Grogan’s cellar. He wasted no time in getting it open. Then, just as Wesley managed to shake off the effects of Simon’s temporary domination of him, Simon picked up a sealed crate containing a dozen mini-kegs of Heineken and slammed it down on Wesley’s skull with all of his might. The crate blasted apart from the force, rupturing most of the kegs within. Frothy Heineken began to spray in several directions. Without thinking too far ahead, Simon managed to lift the now unconscious Wesley Tang over his head. He twirled him around a couple of times before tossing his limp body towards the gaping entrance to the cellar.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Wesley didn’t go through easily. Simon had to stomp on him more than once before his huge, hulking body clad in leathers, finally flopped down into Grogan’s storage cellar. Simon then closed the trapdoor and pulled the seriously damaged ice machine across the floor so that it completely covered the trapdoor. Panting profusely, with hardly time to think, Simon launched himself back through the double doors and into the shop-proper. The two nunchuck Faceless ones were already squealing angrily towards him, but this time it was A-Sop to the rescue. Hovering a few feet above his felled owner, A-Sop formed several re-polarised magnetic air bubbles throughout the store, onto which he projected an equal number of holographic renditions of Simon Kelly. There were eight in all, each one looking frighteningly real. Quicker than you could say “deus ex machina” there were now suddenly nine super-Simons closing in on the Faceless who immediately dropped their nunchucks and retreated back to the outside and their bikes. They obviously knew nothing about A-Sop’s abilities, and probably put this down to magic, or some kind of “Ang Lee-inspired shit”. Within seconds the sounds of motorcycle engines revving-up could be heard. Some of the exhaust smoke made its way into the store, causing a terrified, but also fascinated John Grogan to suck on his inhaler once more. A-Sop completely drained his battery projecting such an impressive array of holograms. He crashed to the floor with force enough to shatter, but fortunately his obsidian shielding made him near-indestructible. One by one the holograms blinked out, having served their purpose well. Simon immediately rushed to the aid of his boyfriend.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I’m alright. Throat hurts like hell, though. More pain to put up with, but I think I’ll live,” Derek was only too keen to inform.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“The cellar door won’t hold that cunt for long. He’s strong, but I’m stronger and faster, I think. But he knows kung-fu or whatever, so he could still have the edge on me. I need an enhancement if we’re to get out of this.” And then, to Grogan: “Why didn’t you push your panic button, you bollocks?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Fawning behind the counter, it was clear to see that John Grogan was a coward. “Mister Tang won’t stand for it. He’s organised to a fault, even the Irish crime lords fear him. He owns half of the Gards in Dublin. He’s afraid of no one, and he has this place watched. He’ll find out if I call the police. You know what he does to people that piss him off? He cuts off their arms and legs over the course of an entire week. He even has doctors on his payroll that can slowly dismember whilst keeping the victims alive for as long as possible. You don’t want to mess with him. And then there’s his son,” Grogan cocked his head in the direction of the cellar.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So you’re telling me that once those motorbikes are seen in the vicinity of an incident like this, the cops won’t come? Holy Jesus.... what’s this city coming to?” Simon punched his right palm with his left fist. He was pissed off big-time. He wasn’t qualified to take on a criminal organisation of this magnitude.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“The Faceless have a reputation that easily precedes them. It’s better to just comply with their demands, and pay up when protection is owed.” Grogan was near to tears at this stage. Despite Simon’s intervention (with help from A-Sop), he was still scared to death of Mister Tang and his organisation.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]There was a loud bashing noise from down in the cellar. Wesley was conscious again and pissed enough to attempt breaking out of his temporary prison. “He’s gonna get out any minute now. I need another enhancement. But A-Sop is drained, totally dead. We also need a computer to activate the enhancement via scry mode.” Simon went to retrieve the dormant super-phone. Grogan had no idea what he was talking about.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He charged up from a generator in that shed in the park, last night. He was down to just 2% of power. But he seems totally dead, now. Those holograms must’ve been too much for him,” said Derek worriedly, as he massaged some pain out of his tender neck. Then he remembered what he’d learned from A-Sop shortly after his activation of the day before.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“He can also charge up using one of us... er... our bodies’ natural electrical fields. You’re super-powered, now, Simon. Your electrical field should be more powerful than anyone else’s.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“But I’m holding him, now. Nothing’s happening. What the fuck do I do?” Simon began to panic when another loud thud sounded from beneath the cellar’s trapdoor, this time louder and more powerful than the first. Then: “Wait, I think he’s coming back to us. It might be working.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Sure enough A-Sop’s obsidian shielding melted away and his chassis-proper was revealed. The LED charging indicator began to glow, brighter and brighter. First it started out red in colour, but now it was lightening, rapidly turning orange, brighter and brighter. Within twenty seconds the LED had turned from red to green. An animated smiley face appeared on A-Sop’s display.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Greetings. Did I miss anything of interest during my power-down?” It was clear to observe just how much of a personality A-Sop was developing.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“A-Sop, we need to enhance Simon once more. There’s a huge cunt trapped below us, but he’s gonna bust out any second. Simon needs to get bigger and stronger than he is currently. We need to do this NOW!!!” Derek tried to steady his shaking hand as he held A-Sop at arm’s length, so that the super-phone could get better oriented with the lay of its surroundings.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Scanning for user-friendly audio-visual devices. Three devices found supported by a computer surveillance hub. I can scry through such a network, but a minimum of twenty-five metres must exist between Simon and me for the enhancement to be effective. Further scans indicate that there is insufficient space within the confines of this structure for a successful scry to take place.” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]The devices A-Sop referred to were the three closed-circuit television cameras Grogan had dotted about the main shop floor. They worked off a digital mainframe which in turn was routed to his office computer. But Grogan didn’t know how to work the digital part of the set-up and was still reliant on the old video-tape system that used VHS cassettes. Still, there was enough computer and camera equipment present for A-Sop to make use of. Alas, the only thing preventing this was a lack of sufficient space.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Lemme the fuck outta here, and I promise to kill you all quickly and not gradually,” wailed the enraged Wesley Tang from below their feet. His blows to the trapdoor were becoming less intense, now. A bodybuilder he might have been, and hugely strong and superbly conditioned into the bargain. But he was still only a man, flesh and blood. And he was getting very tired.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“It would seem that my scan was in error. I am now detecting another device with audio-visual capabilities which may serve the required purpose, Simon. I must run a self-diagnostic to determine the cause of this oversight.” A-Sop went into stand-by mode for approximately two seconds. Then: “Diagnostic complete. All systems fully operational.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I think he means this,” said Derek, stepping beyond the smashed front door. He grunted in pain from his sore midsection as he stopped to pick up the abandoned iPhone 4. Derek was beginning to feel like the third person in a rocky relationship, now that Simon seemed to have become A-Sop’s “Number 1”. Should he be jealous? He wished that he could run a self-diagnostic to find out the source of his troubled feelings. For now though: “One of the bikers must’ve dropped it as he fled. It’s set to Chinese, I think.” He handed the iPhone to Simon.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You can patch into this, right?” The muscle-hunk could never take A-Sop for granted.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Although it would offend me greatly to interface with the crack-whore of smart-phones, I will, however, strive to facilitate your needs to my utmost and exceptional ability, Simon.” More of A-Sop’s ever-burgeoning attempt at humour.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Whatever you two are doing, you’d better do it soon,” John Grogan, in a heightened state of panic, informed his saviours with the “Knight Rider”-phone, “That big bastard has one arm out of the trapdoor.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Sure enough Wesley had made progress. He was less animate, now, as fatigue took hold of him, but he was pacing himself as he tried to call up as much strength as he could currently muster. He was fury and vengeance and hate. These feelings fed into his muscles, and slowly energised them.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“A-Sop, trigger the enhancement as soon as I’m outside the twenty-five metres. Timing will be crucial,” said Simon, quickly shrugging out of his sweat-top, which he tossed to his big-schlonged butler. Derek sighed, but said nothing. Grogan’s eyes waxed hugely in their sockets when he saw the cut of the now shirtless young Samaritan. He was thickly-muscled, his body honed to perfection. It was the kind of body Grogan wished he’d had back in his early-twenties. But the superman still looked small compared to the trapped behemoth in the cellar. Simon departed with the iPhone 4, which A-Sop hacked into with ease.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“We should get to safety, John,” Derek advised, holding out A-Sop like he was something to be worshipped. But Derek only wanted to worship Simon and his beautiful muscles, muscles that were about to get so much bigger. A huge serpent cock began to moisten and uncoil inside his sweats. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Muh-my jeep is parked out front. Buh-but I’m too panicked to drive. I’d have us wrapped around a lamppost before we knew what was happening.” Grogan really was helpless in a crisis. Every bone in his body leapt inside his skin to the sound of another loud bang from beyond the double doors. Wesley Tang had found his second wind.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Simon has reached the minimum safety perimeter required for augmentation. Now activating Level 4 of the Total Body Enhancement app in scry mode to remote recipient.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Huh? What does that mean? Come to think of it, why is your phone talking? Is this some kind of elaborate joke between your friends?” Grogan regretted not staying in bed, that morning. He regretted it a lot.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Never mind that right now. No disrespect, John, but it really isn’t any of your business. We shouldn’t be caught up in this at all, but be thankful that we did. I can drive, by the way. We need to get out of here.” In all honesty, Derek wanted to stay behind in order to witness Simon’s new size, and to see him wipe the floor with Wesley Tang. But things were becoming too crazy and unpredictable. Nah, it was best that the “lesser mortals” get out of harm’s way. Derek was surprised to see how deserted the streets had become. Cars still motored along the main road in both directions, but at this time of day the immediate area should have been bustling with activity. Wesley Tang’s customised Kawasaki Ninja 250r-XL was unique amongst motorcycles. For a start it was 25% larger than the standard model, and tripped out with several bells and whistles that screamed: “When you see this... it’s time to panic.” The flame-effect paint-job and sigil of the Faceless (a standard depicting a hooded Assassin-like character, its face hidden and wielding a pair of flaming-red nunchucks in an X-shaped cross before it) did nothing more than to emphasise the menace that he was. People saw that bike and stayed the hell away.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Wesley Tang was all muscle and wrath when he finally heaved himself up through the trapdoor, his huge shoulders and back taking the full weight of not only the trapdoor, but the ice machine barring his egress. He flipped it away as though it were made of balsa wood, triple strength now seething throughout his hulking frame. Snorting with rage, he took a moment to catch his breath and to further galvanise himself to action. He decided that his leathers were too tight for him, and he tore the jacket from his body, exposing a thickly muscled torso glistening from the sweat of his exertions. “Got to get that phone,” he vowed, as he made to leave the store. But he needed his bike in order to get after Simon Kelly. He would make sure that his father’s entire underworld network would be on the lookout for the cunt.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]However, when he got outside, he discovered that his bike lay in several pieces scattered across the car-park. The Ninja 250r-XL, the only one of its kind in existence... utterly destroyed. But how?[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]A voice, somewhat cocky, sounded from above. Wesley looked up towards the roof of the off-licence, and his jaw dropped at the sight of something his mind struggled to accept. There was Simon Kelly, shirtless and sweaty, his body bulging with insane muscularity. He easily looked 40 lbs heavier than just a few minutes before. Wesley had yet to experience A-Sop’s abilities for himself, although he understood the concept having witnessed its last “handler” eventually spill the beans after just thirty minutes of torture by his father’s chief interrogator Doctor Fan-Li. And now he was seeing the effects made flesh. So much flesh... so much muscle that could be his, once the super-phone again became his property.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Looks like you still have a good 60 lbs on me, Fried Rice, but I reckon I’m stronger and faster than I look,” Simon boasted, as he fanned out a mightily impressive lat-spread, which from Wesley’s point of view below him, made it seem like he was swelling up to mammoth proportions. Raging like the maniac he was, Wesley pulled a litter bin out of its concrete mooring and tossed it up at Simon. The iron missile failed to meet its target when Simon simply swatted it to one side. It ended up crashing through the windscreen of a parked Toyota Avensis, which immediately set the car’s alarm wailing. The owner of the car, the Pharmacist from two units down, came out to witness the horror of his wounded vehicle. He saw the two muscled men apparently going head-to-head, and immediately went inside to lower the shutters to his establishment. Other shop-owners soon followed suit. Far across the road, people in their houses watched with morbid fascination, torn between getting to safety themselves and calling the police. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon leapt down from the roof and landed just a few feet from the seething, raging muscle-bull. “You know, if we’d met under better circumstances, I’d be trying to get you drunk and into bed. You’re pretty hot-looking for a Chinaman. What, and do they serve steroids with fried rice now? Whew... lookin’ good on it, mate.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“So you’re a fucking fag, too? I’m gonna kill you slowly, with my bare hands, you queer,” Wesley growled, and launched into a head-on attack of Simon, allowing kung-fu to take a back seat to sheer brawn. Simon deftly side-stepped with lightning speed, almost cartoon-style. Wesley couldn’t stop himself and went right through one of John Grogan’s shuttered storefront windows. Metal tore like tissue paper and Wesley ended up beneath a pile of disarrayed Coors Light cans. Simon didn’t stop there. He pounced on Wesley before he had a chance to right himself, and a series of well-timed punches soon had the Asian hoodlum seeing stars.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“That’s a pretty serious threat you made, promising to kill me, Fried Rice. But you know you’re out of your depth. Question is... where do we take it from here?” Simon loomed over Wesley, his mighty chest rising and falling as he sucked in replenishing air. His sweat-pants were tattered from losing the strain to his now bigger muscles. His wedding-tackle poked out of a hole in his crotch and he thought about taking another well-aimed piss, like he had on Wacker Nolan the night before: the ultimate insult. He felt heavy and strong and tall, despite he was still the lesser of the two men in physical terms. Winded and defeated, Wesley Tang also struggled to regain his breath. He sat with his back to a fridge full of exotic world beers, his handsome face now a bloodied mess.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“I need to know something. You seem to have prior knowledge of a certain phone in my possession. Now, considering that bodybuilding is clearly your thing, and your body is truly fantastic, I want some answers, and sharp-ish. What do you want with A-Sop?” Simon cracked open a bottle of Heineken to slake his mighty thirst. It was cool and refreshing. He tried not to think of his drunken mother as he drank. He was nothing like her and never would be. Not now that so much had changed.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“To fulfil a stolen destiny, fag. One that is rightfully mine,” Tang panted, deciding he too could do with a drink. Simon allowed it.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“The phone was stolen from my father, although I originally acquired it from my former roommate at college. It was intended for him, you see. I considered it a legitimate acquisition, as his father owed my father a life-debt, you could say. Our fathers go way back, but that’s not relevant here. A-Sop is... how shall I put it?... not from around here, but you’ve probably guessed that much for yourself. How many stages are you at? Three... four?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon held back from answering. “Go on,” he instructed. He folded his insanely-muscled and veined forearms across his titanic chest, a small feat that was becoming harder to achieve as he acquired more and more muscle. He liked the feeling immensely.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Why should I tell you anything, fag?” Wesley swigged angrily on his beer.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Because if you don’t, you see that beer bottle you’re drinking from? It’s gonna be sideways inside your colon if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Wesley had to admit defeat, for once. He submitted with a heavy, drawn-out sigh. “Ed Lee was my roommate in college, the science major. He was just getting into bodybuilding and I was helping him with his workouts. This was last year. I dropped out of college after some disagreements over my term papers. My father sorted that one out. Not important here. What is important was Ed finding the phone... the super-phone, from the future. When it appeared one night, miraculously out of thin air, a program er... a message, I guess, downloaded into Ed’s laptop, which was still on. We’d been drinking, since I was bulking at the time and not really watching my intake. We’d been chatting to hot bitches online. Ed fell asleep, and I accessed the message that explained A-Sop’s origins. Should I continue?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon was fascinated. He nodded enthusiastically.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Ed was chosen, along with five others, from the Saviour Archive, a chronicle of the greatest humans in Chinese/Korean history whose augmentations would be of critical benefit to future mankind. He was chosen to receive A-Sop, whereas I was overlooked. Why him and not me?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Do you really need me to spell that out for you?” Simon felt the need to interject. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Anyway, I thought this was a practical joke, what with Ed treading a fine line between the jocks and the nerds, although he leaned more to the nerds more than anything, hence I was helping him to build his body. So I did nothing about it. But I kept the phone and erased the program off his laptop. To be honest, I forgot all about A-Sop for a while, even though I learned all I needed to know from the message sent to his computer. Until a certain Mister Chen turned up and stole A-Sop from me. Well, it was his son who actually stole it, but the pair of them were in it together. They worked here in Dublin, but the son maintained a warehouse in Kowloon. Into mobile phone importing, but A-Sop, it seems, is more unique than any phone ever. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“My father put a trace on Mister Chen and his son and was amazed to find no history of them. Not even social security numbers. The Chens were obviously using aliases. So my father made a few phone calls and had the lesser Chen’s warehouse trashed in Kowloon. No other phone like A-Sop was found there, although there was some pretty unusual tech discovered, including a dead body, apparently missing its lower-half, an albino Asian female, the body found inside some kind of archway hooked up to a lot of weird gadgetry. Strangest thing about the half-corpse was how my father’s men found it: every inch of skin was covered in ones and zeroes, although the body and the arch literally disintegrated before their very eyes. [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“We picked up Chen’s son not long after this most strange of incidents. I wanted the phone, but he said he’d given it to his father who knew what to do with it. He was a strange man, also had those weird ones and zeroes on him, but they soon faded as we subjected him to more and more torture. He didn’t break, not once, but quietly died after we’d extracted his fingers and toes with a pliers. That was this morning, just as dawn broke. He lasted longer than we’d expected. We’d been looking for him for some time. My father has agents and spies everywhere, not just in the Asian communities. People hear things, no matter how secretive you try to be. Something like A-Sop couldn’t stay quiet for long. As for Chen Senior? I’m confident we’ll pick him up soon.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon grew quiet. The thing about the ones and the zeroes – the same as what Derek now had on his arm – totally bothered him. His head swam with so many odd scenarios, stuff he’d never think about before A-Sop and Derek came into his life.[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“How did you find us?” [/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“Anonymous tip-off. You should be careful of that voice of yours carrying, mate.” Wesley downed the last of his beer. Then: “Am I free to go then?”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]“You’re not getting the phone. Cunts like you would only use it for crime, and tightening your grip on this city even further. And you’re growing days are over. I’m gonna continue to get bigger and stronger, until fuckers like you can’t touch me. You might as well give up what it is you do, ‘cos you’ll never be a match for me, Fried Rice.” Simon bounced his pecs and as a show of strength crushed the beer bottle with his fingers. The glass almost turned back to sand under extreme superhuman pressure. His cock twitched and grew inside his shredded sweats. Being strong was such a turn-on. Simon took out the roll of money from his pocket and removed a twenty note. He tossed it to Wesley. “Get yourself a cab on me, cunt. And never let me see your face anywhere near me or mine in future. If you cross my path again, I’ll snap your spine. Does Kawasaki even make invalid scooters? I’m not joking.”[/COLOR]

[COLOR=gray]Simon Kelly had won this round. He left the off-licence and set off in search of Derek and A-Sop. His abilities were growing, now, and he could home-in on A-Sop by picking up a high-pitched signal that only his ears could detect. He found the jeep about three miles outside of the city, parked outside a cheap motel. It was hardly a Fortress of Solitude, but for now it would have to do. [/COLOR]


[COLOR=gray]To be continued...[COLOR=yellow]HERE[/COLOR][/COLOR]

[JP71]

Hmm, this chapter appears to have failed me. Or did I fail the chapter?

[Maverick0095875]

i liked it

[umlerian49]

Originally Posted by JP71

Hmm, this chapter appears to have failed me. Or did I fail the chapter?

Not in the slightest! I like Simon The Good. It sounds like he's going to get gooder.

So what's next? A little hot action with Simon and Derek?

I'd have commented sooner, but I've been away.

[JP71]

Originally Posted by sambaker67

Realtor fort collins, fort collins co short sale.
This NEW program allows homeowners to walk away from their underwater mortgage with absolutely no penalty from their mortgage lender and get $3000. Homeowners may even qualify to re-purchase another new home within eleven days!
http://www.fort-collins-short-sale.com/5.html

Is this for real? SPAMMED on the evolution forum. Thought I'd never see the day. Er, to Sambaker67: if you bothered to read my story at all, you can easily tell from it that I'm not from the USA, so why send me stuff I can never utilise?

Anyone else get one of these?

[michaelv2]

Well, I liked it. Actually, loving it. And the mystery grows. Is the phone a friend or pho?

[JP71]

Originally Posted by michaelv2

Well, I liked it. Actually, loving it. And the mystery grows. Is the phone a friend or pho?

Friend or foe indeed? Now THAT would be telling. Glad you're lovin' it. A very hot and steamy Chapter 9 will be up soon.

I can't wait for the next chapter!