No Limits: Part 3 -- Rivalries

[Corwin]

Petrowski wandered the halls of Doherty Hall at State University
looking for room C304. He felt like bashing in the walls. It was so
damned frustrating trying to make sense of the maze he wandered
through. Who had ever heard of a building with sub-basements? And
C-sub-basement was a nightmare of corridors that led no where, floors
with steps that went up 3 then immediately down 3, and a numbering
scheme that resembled the Dewey Decimal System.

He found lab C302 and heard some yelling coming from down the hall.

"We got you this job so you could figure this out! We don't want
excuses, we want to win! Our alumni want a national trophy! You said
you could do it and that you'd done it before!"

"I showed you the results of my prior research," said a voice.
Petrowski recognized it as Dr. Perkins, the man he had come to see.

"So do it again!"

"I've tried. The first results were destroyed, and every time I start
something here, well,..."

"I don't want excuses doctor, I want results."

Petrowski saw a man emerge from a room down the hall. The man was
tall and thin. He was red faced and brush passed Petrowski.
Petrowski walked over to the door and knocked.

"Hello Dr. Perkins," greeted the huge muscle man.

Dr. Perkins looked up. "Sergeant Petrowski. Well, it's been two
years. It's good to see you!" Perkins eyes surveyed the big man,
watching his massive body walk with grace and strength. "I see that
the formula is still working."

"Strong as ever doc," said Perkins. "That's why I'm here. Been
trying to find that civilian, for the Sarge. You know."

"Yes," agreed Perkins. "I've been in touch with his doctors at the VA
hospital. There hasn't been any change. I've helped as much as I
could, but..." Perkins voice trailed off, ashamed of his failure.

"Doc, I couldn't help hearing. What was that about?"

"After my lab was destroyed, the Defense Department decided to
terminate my contract. That's when they disbanded your unit. I
contacted some colleagues, and they put me in touch with a man.
Wealthy. Well, to make a long story short, he was a football fan and
was upset that his team wasn't performing well."

"And City was undefeated," agreed Petrowski.

"Yes. They had gone from being a third-rate team to having players
who were unstoppable. The benefactor agreed to fund my research.
Something about a rivalry between the schools. He wanted me to give
State's players the same edge. "

"Or better?" asked Petrowski. "Doc, I had a run in with one of their
players. The kid whopped my ass."

"Jonny Romero?" asked Perkins. "Yes. Whatever is going on over there,
he's the key. The kid could overpower the whole league if he wanted
to."

"Well doc, if he could overpower me, I don't think the research from
the Army could help here."

Perkins looked at Petrowski. "Perhaps, but my research isn't going
well here. I can't even recreate the original formula that you took."

"If you could, do you think it might help Detrick?"

"Maybe." Perkins paused. "Sergeant, maybe with your help, I could
recreate the original formula. It's still in your system. Perhaps I
could synthesize it from your blood."

Perkins walked over to a table and began scribbling down notes.

"Sure doc, anything to help. But they still have Romero."

"Yes, but I've been thinking about that too. We used the formula on
normal men. What if we used it on someone who was naturally
predisposed to athletics. Someone gifted. One of State's star players
for example. The formula might work stronger on someone like that.
And once I have the original formula again, I might be able to enhance
it." Perkins was busy writing. "And these enhancements might help
Detrick. Sergeant, could I impose on you to help?"

"It's just Petrowski now, doc. Sergeant was a long time ago. Besides,
there's only one real Sergeant, and that's Detrick. If this might help
him, sure, I'll cooperate."

Perkins smiled. He went over to a cabinet and pulled out a syringe.
Petrowski held out his arm. Perkins looked at the massively muscled
limb. "Wow. I can never get over just how huge you are. Your arm is
twice as thick as my chest!" Perkins wrapped a rubber hose around the
upper arm, forcing more veins to the surface. He then stuck the
needle in and began to extract Petrowski's blood. "And you say Romero
was able to beat you. Well, we will have to do something about that."


---

Ken Walters walked into the locker room. This was the time that the
football trained. Ken had played football his freshman year, but had
stopped to body build instead. He still liked to train with the team,
though. They were his friends, even though some of them didn't
appreciate the aesthetic aspects that he now pursued.

Ken dropped his bag and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a
handsome young man. His tussled blonde hair and his blue eyes
betrayed his northern European heritage. His face was perfectly
proportioned. He wore a van dyke that he kept trimmed close to his
face. As he began to unbutton his shirt, his ripped, tight chest came
into view. As button after button came undone, more of his hard body
came was visible. He had a perfect ten pack with so little body fat his
muscles were defined even when he wasn't flexed. He slipped the shirt
over his massive shoulders revealing his nineteen-plus inch upper
arms. He smiled at what he saw, the perfect pearly-white teeth the
finishing touch to this extremely handsome man.

"Hey Kenny, come to train with the big boys," said one of the players.

"Think I'm pretty big right now," replied Kenny, raising his arms into
a double bicep pose. Almost twenty inches of hard muscle bulged out of his
upper arm, thick veins visible on his massive forearms. He pulled his
arms up over his head, flexing his pecs and abs. His body snapped
into ripped, massive muscle. He sucked in his gut, undulating his abs
hypnotically. When he stopped flexing, he smiled and said, "and have
the trophies to prove it."

"So, why not come back to the team and prove it on the field," chided Tom.

Ken unbuttoned his pants, and stripped down to his boxer briefs. Tom
had seen Ken naked before, and knew what to expect. He turned away
rather than accidentally looking at the snake that peaked out the right
leg of the briefs. He pulled a pair of navy blue shorts out of his
bag and pulled them over, covering the snake.

Just then the coach walked in. Petrowski and Perkins were with him.
"Gentlemen," he announced, "can I have your attention. We think we've
finally cracked the secret that will help us beat City this year and
regain our number one ranking, but we need a volunteer."

Petrowski removed his shirt. The players gasped at the wall of muscle
named Amos Petrowski. Petrowski's pec shelf hung nearly two feet over
his ripped ten-pack abs. His arms were the largest they had ever seen
up close. Every man in the locker room stared in awe, except for Ken.

"I see you've noticed Sergeant Petrowski. Gentlemen, the Sergeant here
was the recipient of a secret government program into muscle growth.
He's agreed to share those secrets with one of you."

"Doesn't look so tough to me," whispered Ken. "Looks more like some
sorta gorilla that OD'ed on steroids."

"Did you say something Mr. Walters? This only applies to team
members. You're a guest here."

"Ya, whatever coach. You know I'm way stronger than anyone on your
team. If they want to do something unnatural when I can have this,"
he moved his hands over his body from his pecs to his abs and hips,
"just by doing a little work, I'll go for the work."

The coach was about to say something when Perkins tapped him on the
arm. The men whispered something, and the coach nodded yes a few
times. Petrowski walked over to Ken.

"Think you're tough do you, son?"

"I know it," said Ken. "Here, let me prove it." Ken raised his arm
to his side. He made a fist, flexing his massive forearm into its
vascular splendor. Slowly, he bent his arm at the elbow and watched
his massive bicep peak appear once more. Next, he flexed his triceps,
hitting an equilibrium that displayed both the massive bicep and the
low-hanging horseshoe of his triceps. "Think you're tough? I bet you
can't even dent this."

Petrowski grinned. His big hand engulfed Ken's bicep. It felt hard
and warm, but Petrowski was strong. His forearm was inches bigger
than this kid's upper arm. He began to squeeze. The tendon's in
Petrowski's forearm jutted out as he exerted more and more pressure.
He felt his fingers begin to move in, but were pushed out by the
hardness of Ken's muscle. He didn't want to hurt the kid, but found
himself pressing harder and harder and getting nowhere.

Ken grinned. "These muscles are harder than fucking titanium, man.
That all you got?"

Petrowski grinned and began to let loose with his full might. His
forearms bulged and became striated masses as he crushed harder. His
fingers moved in slightly. Ken got a determined look on his face and
flexed harder, pushing the fingers back out. Petrowski's fingers
turned white and his arm began to shake with effort, but he was unable
to dent the boy's hard muscle.

Perkins turned to the coach. "We need that boy," he said. "With
those natural gifts, the growth enhancer would be unbelievable."

"Stronger than the Weed?" asked the coach.

"I can't guarantee it, but I'd guess yes."

Petrowski continued to squeeze. "That will do, Sergeant," ordered
Perkins after a minute.

"Told you," said Ken.

The coach came over. "Ken, we want you to do the experiment."

"Not interested."

Petrowski looked at him. "What if I found someone that could crush
that bicep like it was clay?" he asked.

"Ain't no one can do that," boasted Ken. "Besides, I want to stay
natural. No roids for me."

"These aren't steroids, Mr. Walter," said Perkins. "They enhance your
natural abilities, that's all."

"So, if there is someone who is tougher than you and we can give you
the ability to beat him, you'd be interested?" asked Petrowski.

"That's a big 'if', but ya, I might hear you out," replied Ken, skeptically.

"Fine. Put your shirt on and come with me," said Petrowski. "Ever
hear of Adam's gym?"

---

The two men walked into the gym. Jonny was working the desk. "Hey,
glad to see you man. Hope there are no hard feelings about the other
day!"

Petrowski put down his guest pass. "How much for a three month membership?"

"For you? $150 oughta cover it."

Petrowski took out his wallet and put down $150. "The day pass is or my
friend here."

"Sure. You're Ken Walters, aren't you?" asked Jonny as he put the
money in the cash register. "Congratulations on winning the state
title. You've got a great physique for someone from State."

Ken smile. "Uh, thanks. Ya, you guys at City are pretty big."

Jonny smiled, flexing his gun. "Ya. Hard and ripped too. But
football is our game, not bodybuilding. The diet and discipline you
guys have is way too much for slobs like us," Jonny said with a
chuckle.

Petrowski and Ken began to walk to the locker room when Petrowski
stopped and turned around. "Hey, Weed, that's what they call you
right? Weed?"

Jonny nodded with a smile on his face.

"Ken here is pretty buff, ya know? Damn hard too. I can't even dent
his bicep."

Jonny raised an eyebrow, a glimmer in his eye.

"Ya, no one can crush my titanium muscles!" agreed Ken.

"Why don't you give it a go, if it's OK with Ken here," Petrowski prodded.

"Fine with me. Show City what this State boy is made of -- steel!"
said Ken with confidence. In a flash, he took off his shirt and
revealed his trophy-winning physique.

"Looking good," said Jonny, strutting over to Ken, pumping his
substantially larger muscle and squeezing his hand into a fist that
flexed his watermelon sized forearm.

Like before, Ken raised his arm, forcing his muscle to peak, ripped
muscle bursting through paper-thin skin. Jonny placed his hand over
the muscle and gave a squeeze.

"Damned hard, Ken." Jonny smiled. His forearm came to life,
ripped muscle bursting forth. His fingers began to dent Ken's muscle.
Ken shook, demanding more strength and hardness. Jonny's fingers
stopped and moved out a bit, then proceeded to move in, crushing Ken's
arm.

"STOP!" yelled Ken as Jonny's fingers dug into the bodybuilder's
gun. Jonny let go. Ken's other hand jumped to his bicep, red indents
marking where Jonny's grip had crushed into the muscle. Ken began to
massage the snore bicep.

Jonny raised his arm, forcing his massive peak up high, the sleeve of
his shirt ripping from the mass of his arm. He bobbed his fist,
causing the huge forearm to ripple. "Guess that shows that City boy's
crush titanium before breakfast, huh?" Jonny walked back behind the
desk. "Enjoy your workouts."

Petrowski led Ken to the locker room.

Ken looked at himself in the mirror. He struck a double bicep pose
and stared at the outline of Jonny's fingers on his skin. "This
treatment," he said, "it'll make my bi hard enough that he can't do
that anymore."

Petrowski shook his head yes.

"I'll get as strong as him?"

"Possibly stronger."

Ken stared into the mirror. His eyes began to squint. "I'm in."

[Bull]

Excellent series; keep it up!

[Corwin]

Thanks. I have a standing promise to finish any series I start here. There may be a bit of a lag until the next chapter -- I'm on vacation next week. Meeting up with some other members in The Big Apple and seeing some shows. I'll have a laptop with me, so hopefully I can get out the next chapter.

Glad you like it. I'm happy with it so far too.

Thanks again,
Scott

[brent]

Yeah, I'm really liking this series too!

[fleXodus]

Awesome!!! I especially like the new character Kenny ;-)

Hope you have fun in New York!

- flex

[Ranger]

Kenny's gorgeous - he's gotta go for it!!!

hmmm, I like it. It's good. Almost as good as my story