Mr Edwards, CEO - Part 5

[Massivebdy]

The feedback has been a great help, thanks guys. Some questions get answered in this one... hope you like it.


Mr. Edwards, CEO - Part 5


The door buzzer rang again. First one long persistent ring, then three, four, five short staccato blasts.

Noah stumbled from his bed to the intercom by the front door and pressed the button to speak. "What?," he demanded.

"Mr. Chambers, please let me in. It's Dr. Krenshaw. I must speak with you."

"Dr. Krenshaw?," Noah asked back, "From Research and Development?"

"Yes, yes. Please I must speak to you."

Noah pushed the button to open the buildings front door. His mind raced to recall what he knew about Dr. Krenshaw. He'd been Mr. Edwards top man in R & D eight months ago, but he'd left the company, rather suddenly too, but he didn't remember any of the details. They'd had so little interaction he couldn't imagine why the doctor was here now, especially at 2:00 in the morning."

Noah grabbed an old robe and put it on over top his shorts then stood by the front door. He heard the elevator ding out in the hall and waited for the knock, his eye already at the peephole. It was Dr. Krenshaw, but he appeared more than a little disheveled. Noah opened the door.

"Thank you," the doctor said coming into the apartment quickly, practically pushing his way past Noah. "I worry we might already be too late. It's escalated. Far faster than I would've anticipated." The man was rambling, " The controls, they're there - they were planned you know, but I fear they're not being used. Yes, clearly they're not," the doctor chuckled in a manner indicating is was decidedly unfunny.

"Doctor please, I have no idea what your talking about!," Noah began.

"No idea?, " Dr. Krenshaw looked wide eyed at Noah as if suddenly remembering why he was there. "My boy, yes, I'm sorry? you know none of this do you? But why would you, why would anyone. That's why he kicked me out, to keep his secrets."

"Who are you talking about?" Noah made the leap, "Mr. Edwards?"

"Of course Mr. Edwards! Who else would I be talking about." The doctor was wound up tight, a man on the edge, and Noah stared at the look of intensity and anger that was written across his face, and truly began to worry.

"That man," the doctor's voice changed, he spoke softly now and barely above a whisper as if someone might be listening in. "That man is?
?a monster."

The hairs on the back on Noah's neck stood on end.

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Noah set two cups of coffee down on the little table in his kitchen. He'd put the doctor off for a few minutes, because he needed to. He didn't know if he wanted to hear anymore about the man he loved, and yet, he knew he had to listen.

"What do you mean he's a monster?," Noah asked calmly, starting the conversation back up.

The doctor stopped pacing the floor and came over, throwing himself into the chair across from Noah. "Evil. Cruel. What other definition is there of a monster?," he snapped back.

Noah's first instinct was to jump to Mr. Edwards' defense, but reason stopped him. He knew his employer could be a violent man, there was no denying that. Noah had even helped in smoothing over every incident that had put someone in need of medical attention. He also knew that this was happening with an increasing frequency.

"Tonight I got a phone call," the doctor continued. "It was from Mr. Carmichael, the butler?"

Noah nodded his head, indicating he knew him.

"He was calling me from his hospital room."

"Oh no," Noah groaned and gulped some coffee, anticipating the worst.

The doctor went on, "Both of his legs were broken, the femurs snapped like twigs. Some ribs also. A hand was crushed?" Dr. Krenshaw stopped, not wanting to recount any more of the injuries. I don't know how he managed to even make the call, the morphine was impeding his speech. But he knew, he had to let me know."

Noah's thoughts raced back to the morning, the huge man naked in his bedroom, the erotic workout, Carmichael stripped down to the black jock and collar down on his knees sucking him off. The images in his head all jumbled and the odd way the morning had ended so abruptly.

The doctors voice interrupted his memories. "I fear there is no one left who can get access to this very dangerous man, except you."

Noah's eyes widened in genuine fear.

"You're still his personal assistant? You see him daily, yes?" the doctor asked.

Noah nodded.

"Good, then it has to be you."

"To do what? What are you expecting me to do?!" A look of genuine panic swept across Noah's face. He envisioned the hospital room, Carmichael in casts and covered in tubes. He thought of the bodyguards thrown across rooms and lying on the ground in pain, men with huge powerful bodies who were helpless against Mr. Edwards. What on earth would he be able to do?

The doctor grew calmer now, he knew he had to help Noah now and his own agitation was not going to help. "Listen Noah, knowledge is power, and in this case it's everything."
He reached into his jackets inside pocket and pulled out a disc. Noah understood and grabbed his laptop off the coffee table in the next room and brought it to the table. He took the disc and slid it in.

The video was inside a lab, an average looking medical exam room. Dr. Krenshaw was standing in the room talking to a man running on a treadmill. The man was shirtless with wires taped across his chest and arms, monitors behind him all recording data. The mans' head was cut off the picture frame, but he looked like he must be about 45 or 50 years old, not in great shape, thin arms and sagging man breasts that bounced as he ran. A small paunch hung over the waistband of his shorts and his legs looked too thin from what he could see of them.

Noah looked at the doctor and made a 'what is this?' shrug. The doctor pointed back at the video screen and Noah turned to see the man in the video stop running. Dr. Krenshaw was telling him he did well and started pulling off the monitor feeds taped to his skin. As the last one came off the man stepped down off the treadmill and came into the camera frame, he saw that it was Mr. Edwards. Noah did a double take, moving in towards the screen to see the handsome face he knew so well. It didn't look as lean as he knew it to be, or as handsome, but there was no mistaking who it was.

"When was this?" Noah asked in shock at the sight of the paunchy, average looking middle aged man on the screen.

"Two years, five months ago." The doctor nodded his head up and down at the look of doubt on Noah's face.

"No one can build the kind of body he has that fast. It's not possible, even with drugs and? I don't know what else you could use. There's nothing that works that fast."

"That's were I come in. What do you know about steroids? The history of them," the doctor specified.

"Well, I think they first appeared around World War II? I thought I heard that they were developed for survivors of the holocaust, to help them regain body mass after the starvation and, well, the hell they lived through. But then I also remember hearing that Hitler and the Nazi's had something to do with them, to win at the olympics, or no, it was to create the super soldier? Is any of that right?"

"Doesn't matter. And what do you think a multi million dollar corporation would spend their money on? Helping poor starving people or creating super soldiers?"

Noah didn't need to be told the answer. "Oh god, so this is some super steroid he's on? Why? Why would he even take it? Try it out on himself? That's insane."

"It would be if that were the answer, but it's not. It's not a steroid, not a drug of any kind!" The doctor glanced again at the video which was now showing MRI scans of what was clearly a human brain, and computer generated graphics highlighting spots throughout different regions of the organ. "What I developed was a way to tap into the resources of all human potential. You've heard that we use only a very small portion of our brains, and that is true. It's a great unchartered mystery there and I've only begun trying to understand and utilize it. But what I've done is to create pathways, stimulants through a series of tiny implants, seated in the brain which control functions. They can control the production of adrenaline, the bodies own ability to create testosterone, the pleasure centers heightened, the pain centers lowered. Intelligence tapped into, diseases cured. The possibilities of my work were monumental. I do not say that lightly Noah, it is a fact. And a fact that has been proven to work."

They both looked at the screen and Mr. Edwards was now in another examining room, this one with old style Nautilus type equipment. The entire weight stack was riding up and down and Mr. Edwards' more familiar bodybuilder sized muscles were shining with sweat as he arrogantly pounded out repetitions for the doctor, a look of supreme confidence and masculinity radiating across his face.

"So why would he ever dream of trying something so experimental on himself? Besides being crazy, human testing would be highly illegal, and? " Noah just stopped, stymied by Mr. Edwards actions.

"He was terminally sick Noah. He had nothing to loose and time was essential. Everything we did was secret and had to remain secret because he knew he was going to use himself as the test subject. No one would sanction that, and as unethical as it was, it was my chance to prove my research and implement it."

Noah's mind flooded with questions. "And now? Clearly it worked. He lived, and more than just lived, he turned into this physical marvel, but why is he becoming so violent? And the profanity, what the FUCK does profanity have to do with it anyway?"

The doctor raised a finger, in an 'ah-ha' gesture. "Those are the controls Noah. Those electric implants respond to verbal cues. Profanity, at least some of the most popular vulgarities, I programmed in to release testosterone production. At first it was never enough to cause such extreme violent episodes. In the beginning it did what it was intended to do, helped him build muscle naturally. A fifty year old man with the testosterone levels of an 18 year old, it was exactly what he needed, and he grew impressively. Then, and I don't know exactly when, it started to escalate. He's gotten bigger continually, and I wasn't there to monitor anything after he fired me. I believe he's still growing, getting stronger, and the aggression we clearly know about. You've seen him today, is he bigger than he was just last month?"

"Without a doubt." Noah answered simply, remembering the 415 pound bench press that hadn't even begun to challenge him this morning.

"Would just testosterone cause that amount of size?"

"Yes, it can in the doses his own body is giving him. But it doesn't stop there. There's human growth hormone, and his brain can also produce myostatin inhibitors, those are blockers, which create myostatin deficiencies that in turn causes phenomenal muscle growth, far beyond what's considered normal."

"So there's a control word, or words, that block his myostatin production," Noah asked trying to piece this scientific puzzle together.

"Yes. There are an entire series of auditory cues programmed into his brain. That control physical and emotional functions of all types."

"Oh Christ," Noah thought about what that really meant. "What the hell were you thinking? What kind of stupid idea was it to have vocal cues? Cues he could hear coming out of the mouths of anyone at anytime! Talk about creating a human time bomb. I'm not sure who's the real monster here."

The doctor felt the bite of that comment, but made no reply. He knew the idea had been a grave mistake soon after it's inception, but his own hyper focused science based life put him out of touch with normal human interaction. It had only seemed a foolish error after the fact.

"I do take the blame here Noah, and understand what a nightmare I've created. But you can help contain the damage. You can be there to control him."

Noah felt a headache throbbing from the back of his neck to the top of his forehead. "So if I'm guessing correctly here, Mr. Edwards has no idea of these control words and what they do? Because if he did, with the ego he has he would be increasing his strength and getting monstrously bigger with unbridled glee!"

"That's correct, for the most part. He knows there were words programmed to cure his disease. And he thinks the physical changes are just a fortunate by product of that. The rest he doesn't know about at all."

"Ok. So are there control words to reverse what happens in his brain?"

"Well no. Not exactly. You can't say something to make testosterone production stop, if it happens and is released that's that, but you could stimulate something else to counteract or at least minimize the aggressive tendency."

"Like what, for example?"

"Well, like 'love'." The doctor went on. "Or pleasure or feelings of contentment, but love is stronger or perhaps it's really a combination of all of those feelings."

"And you have a word programmed in that I can say, that will make him feel love?," Noah asked, slightly incredulous.

"Yes, quite a few in fact. Here, let me start writing them out for you, " the doctor began scribbling a list on a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket. Noah looked over his shoulder as he wrote.

"You're kidding? Those are the words you programmed in?"

"Yes. Why? What's wrong with them?" The doctor thought about it for a second then answered himself, "Ok, I didn't really think this through. It seemed like an intelligent choice at the time."

Noah rolled his eyes and started to study the list.

--------------------------

The penthouse was dark, and the shirtless muscleman sat in a plush leather club chair in his library facing the windows, the city lights at his feet sparkling for miles across the broad panoramic expanse of glass. He'd been sitting here for some time, a brandy snifter still half full held loosely in his hand. This day had taken a turn he did not like, and he was at a loss for what exactly had happened.

'Noah', he smiled to himself when he thought of the young man who so clearly adored him. It had been fun to cross that line with him this morning, to let him release all that pent up adoration; it had given them both such pleasure. How incredible he always felt when he could show himself off to someone. He never got tired of it. It was a compulsion, he knew that, but a harmless one. So why then had he grown so uncontrollably angry and at such an odd moment? There was no explanation for it. He'd done all he could to direct that rage at the weights, and had tried his best to work out his anger, but he knew he'd lost control and left the gym abruptly. It felt childish, and Noah must have thought it strange behavior at best. For me to tease him like that and then walk out, poor kid is probably baffled at what happened.

And Carmichael, he couldn't even bring himself to think about that. He'd gone down to his room after he'd cooled off to?, well he wasn't really sure why, to get his dick sucked probably, or maybe to apologize? It didn't matter. The rage had come on him again just a few minutes after he stepped into the room. He remembered pulling the flat screen off the wall, some image of a rapper with his face and gold teeth grill up close and angry. Angry like he was. The rest of what happened was like rough sex, rape and brutal attack all amplified, like someone else was doing it, not him. He just wanted to forget it.

Mr. Edwards slugged down the rest of the brandy and threw the glass across the room, now just angry at himself. He looked up and saw a picture of his father sitting on one of his library shelves. He heard his father's voice in his head, "Liquor is the crutch of the weak man."

'Yeah, fuck you Dad,' he thought to himself, but didn't say aloud. That brought another one of Dad's old adages to mind, "Profanity is for the simple minded." His father had a lot of them, and he'd never realized how much they'd stayed with him. He pulled another from his memory, "Tattoos are disgusting markings of the ignorant. Savages branded their own skin, not a gentleman."

Mr. Edwards thought of his father, the man who'd built the company, but it was he who had turned it into an empire, he who had run it until a few days ago. The shadow of his father he gladly left behind, and when the remembered the newspaper phrase in his obituary, 'a giant in the industry', Mr. Edwards rose up from his chair and looked at his own hulking reflection in the darkened plate glass and said, "I don't think so little man."


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The Lamborgini pulled up to the gay leather bar and a stunned doorman raised an eyebrow when the big silver haired daddy climbed out. His thick arms bulged obscenely from a skin tight black t-shirt that hugged his drool producing body.

"You wanna park that for me?," Mr. Edwards told the man, more than asked.

"We haven't got valets here Mr," the guy responded, unable to take his eyes off the tanned biceps.

"Expand your resume," Mr. Edwards palmed him a crisp hundred dollar bill and confidently walked through the door.

A leather bar, or any gay bar, was a new experience for the former CEO, but already he liked the spark of excitement he felt at walking across the crowded barroom floor. If he felt a rush of pleasure at showing off his incredible body for one person, an entire room full took him to a new level. And 'shy' or 'unassuming', was not something in his game plan tonight.

Every head in the bar had turned at his appearance, and Mr. Edwards was carefully scanning the room in turn, seeing what was available. It was quickly apparent, that for him, everyone was.

"So what does someone have to do to get a little attention around here?," he spoke out in a loud clear voice above the music, and brazenly pulled his t-shirt up and off, letting the room get a complete picture of what he had to offer. He bounced his pecs confidently.

"That's good for starters," a harnessed leather daddy stepped towards him and ran his hand up the flat cobbled washboard and stopped at his chest, tweaking a nipple with a little twist.

Mr. Edwards smiled, "Who else boys? Plenty of me to go around." He tensed his muscles, making them ripple and expand, before bending up an arm and flexing his bicep for the daddy to start sucking on. "I got another one over here," he added bending up his other arm, "and I'm going to need someone to take these pants off of me and offer up their ass for my really big penis."

"How big?" a voice from the crowd asked eagerly.

"When a man tells you it's big sonny, you just get your pathetic little butt over here and do it."

With both arms spread wide, two men fondled the huge arms, another dropped to his knees in front of the braggart and unzipped the pants, pulling them down and letting the enormous dick swing free. A collective murmur of approval swept through the crowd and an eager volunteer bent forward over the pool table offering up what this daddy had demanded.

"That's more like it fellas. Let's get the party started." Mr. Edwards cock was even more impressive when it hardened and grew. Those who weren't up close and part of the action had hands drifting down to their own stiffening appendages, taking them out and playing with themselves as the late evening floor show began.

[danilupoa]

Your story is getting better I?d loves to see Mr Edwards getting huger and powerfull!

[imfit]

The party starts ....and what pleasure and destruction follows...a two edge sword.

[iceman75]

I like the story progression here, now we know exactly what made Mr. Edwards so muscular, strong and aggressive. It was fun to see him come into a situation that he is not used to being in, but still his power makes him become the most alpha alpha-male in the room.

[Mad Dog]

VERY hot! Thanks for scratching the "huge wealthy CEO daddy" itch.

[muscl4life]

It seems to me it's Noah to the rescue! But i can be wrong...Anyway, the story is getting even better.

[msllover]

Holy hot shit!!!!!