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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I really should stop with posting new stories while I have others in the works. But I can't help it! Had a dream about this one last night and I just HAD to pen it down. Unfortunately, I can't remember how the rest of the dream went, so I'd like readers to suggest how this story should continue.

*** (A SECRET MILITARY FACILITY ON THE 11TH MOON OF THE PLANET HACLYON)

Zoltan was having a nightmare. In this one, he had been stripped naked and strapped to an inclined bench such that only his arms were permitted movement. There were tubes and machinery scattered all around the metallic, sterile room. Some of the tubes were even attached to him, flooding him with a cocktail of drugs and addling his thoughts. He couldn't even think properly, not that he ever could in his previous nightmares. Above him a large blocky piece of machinery jutted from the ceiling. A large rectangular board with handgrips attached to the machine was within his reach above his chest. He barely remembered this nightmare. It always started out with him strapped down, he would be asked to reach for the handgrips and then... something... painful, before the nightmare started over again.

Zoltan awoke to find that he was still living in the nightmare.

He was in a small, dimly lit room with no visible doors. His head had been locked in place just like the rest of his body, save the arms. There was a dark sheet of glass at the end of the room that he could see with the limited sight. Zoltan knew the vague shapes in the glass were watching him from behind. He was also vaguely aware of the pumping mechanisms that were keeping the drugs administered into his system.

Then a voice came from somewhere in the dark, dim prison. A masculine voice that was distant and muffled and blurry like his vision.

"I want you to hold onto the handgrips. Do it now."

Zoltan wanted to do no such thing. But something at the back of his head stirred and he knew he was going to obey. It wasn't anything of a conditioned response, but something that simply prevented him from going against a direct order.

Unless the order came from the enemy.

Powerful hands reached into his line of sight and wrapped themselves around the handgrips. Zoltan blinked as he realised the fur on his clawed hands were grey. Had it always been grey? Why couldn't he remember anything clearly?

"Now I'm going to start getting you to press with increasing amounts of force just like the last few times, not that you should be able to recall. What matters is, if you don't push back with equal or greater amounts of force, you'll be crushed to death. Ready? Go!"

***

Inside the observation room, the assistant to the Doctor Funnel shifted uneasily.

Gunther had never seen a Warlord class soldier before. This soldier wasn't just big, he was HUGE. According to the notes he had been given, this walking hulk would have towered over his 5'8 frame by a foot and outweigh his 130lbs by 200! But the soldier's size was not what unease Gunther; it was the macabre treatment he received on a daily basis. The current room was a test facility, complete with a twisted collection of wires and machines and tubes clamped onto the soldier himself. Some tubes employed thousands of microtubules that burrowed harmlessly through the skin to facilitate chemical transfer; these tubes were attached to his nipples, his belly button and the back of his neck. A large tube ending in a massive, cucumber shaped cylinder had been forcefully stuffed up the soldiers ass to deliver its cocktail of drugs. The last tube had suctioned its way onto the soldier's erect cock. Gunther felt a slight twinge of satisfaction at the soldier's minor victory. His cock was so huge and thick that the tube, which covered the entire cockhead, looked like it would snap any moment. And if Gunther estimated right, said cock was probably 10 inches long and wider than his fist!

A twinge of pity prodded Gunther as the mad Doctor began the test, but he pressed it down. They both knew the Ruling Council (of the Republic of Haclyon, in the city of Haclyon, on the planet of Haclyon) was trying to play God, and that they needed these super soldiers to facilitate combat against the Umagon Rebel Forces, Gunther just wished the Doctor didn't have to be so... into his work.

Gunther grimaced at the thought of the 'failed' experiments. He had only discovered their existence by bribing the techies upstairs for some alone time with the computer databases. There had been 142 failures to date. While only the first 93 of them ended in a murderous killing spree and the subsequent annihilation of the moons/asteroids that held their respective facilities, the Ruling Council had made it a point that failure was not an option.

On the brighter side, this particular one had been the most successful of the lot, even if he was put through punishing amounts of training and torture on a daily basis, the fact he had made it this far without dying, murdering a staff member, or failing any of his missions spoke of his ability. Gunther shuddered at the 'trails' that would have destroyed mere mortals ten times over by now. This subject had been electrocuted, afflicted with toxins and poisoned with heavy metals, among other 'trails', and overcame each one with the incredible powers that came with his genetic programming.

Gunther brought his hand automatically to his trouser pocket. The chip he 'appropriated' from the techies was still there, good, that would help with getting to know this guy a little more.

A roar, furious and bestial, shook him back to reality.

***

Zoltan's vision turned red as the tubes filled with a fluid of the same colour and crashed into his system with the gentleness of a tidal wave. Rage, pure and unadulterated, erupted through his surface thoughts and engulfed his senses. His heart began to race, his teeth were bared, every nerve in his body fought against the order to keep his hands around the handgrips. Zoltan wanted to tear himself free, to vent his rage against the monsters populating this shithole. He wanted to rip the limbs off their screaming bodies, to tear through their bones with his teeth, to crush them to bloody pulps with his bare hands!

"RAARGH!!!!"

The sudden increase in the weight unto his arms merely served to enrage him further. Zoltan felt the insane strength in his arms and chest pushing the weight back up, only to have it pushed down again by the machinery. Each time this process was repeated, the weight only seemed to get heavier. And each time the process was repeated, Zoltan felt himself get angrier, and hornier.

A snarl escaped his lips as the damned weight pushed back down again. Zoltan's powerful chest muscles bulged with each push, only to be forcefully relaxed as the machine fought back. He could feel the pain in his strained muscles, the pain in his knotted brows, and it felt good. He could also feel pain from where his chest threatened to snap the leather strappings that held his chest to the bench. That only served to strengthen him even further. Zoltan knew this machine was pumping his arms and chest, hopefully it would make his chest muscles so large they would break the chest strap, tearing the other strappings would be easy after that. His lips curved slightly, he knew it would be impossible for him to harm anyone at the facility, but oh god he was going to try.

***

Gunther had flung himself onto a chair the moment his knees threatened to give way.

Oh my god, my god! This was hot! This was HOT! Gunther had gotten painfully stiff at the sight of the snarling, grunting, angry musclebeast in the chamber. He had thought the subject sexy when he was all docile-like, but now he threatened to blow Gunther away with his incredibly pumped body and his incredibly-er strength.

Gunther knew the mad doctor had scheduled this guy for a strength test. He had even felt pity for the poor guy, being strapped down like that. But now... hell! Why didn't they make porn like this?! WHY?! It had started with the red tank forcing its contents down all 6 tubes that led to the soldier's body. The soldier subject had jerked as the fluids gushed into his system. Gunther had found himself focusing solely on the soldier's large prick with his breath held. The red serum had stretched the cumslit wide open as it was pumped into the large organ. The underside of said organ had bulged monstrously as fluid was forced down the ureter in buckets, causing his already large and heavy balls to grow even larger. Gunther barely had a moment to wonder what it would feel like to have sex gods hit their climax in both his rump and his cock at the same time before the subject snared his attention again.

His whole damned buff bod was getting pumped! His muscles were bulging and straining against their bindings as if he was putting a half-hearted struggle to free himself. Gunther could see the veins riddling his body, each erupting to the surface pumped full of the red fluid. In fact, the veins were most prominent around his engorged penis, seemingly throbbing in unison with each pump from the red-fluid-tank. Damned this guy was tensed! The claws on his feet (that were bound to the bench and far apart from each other) had torn into the metal flooring. His entire body was shaking slightly and Gunther felt himself dying to relieve some of this guy's chemically induced tension. It was all he could do to simply continue eyeraping him. Gunther spent a moment dwelling on the guy's inhuman quads, each individual slab of muscle visible between crevices that cut across its length like the canyon between mountains. Those thicker-than-tree-trunk quads jointed onto a tight slim waist equipped with an oversized artillery cannon and two swelling boulders of ammunition that rested in a pool of sweat on the bench. And oh sweet mother of god those abs! Now THOSE were abs! 8 fucking old-fashioned-fireplace bricks separated by chasms so defined they were redirecting the flow of his sweat like irrigation canals! Gunther shivered as he traced the path of those canals, upward and upward until he found the source of all that manly sweat, until he nearly passed out.

The spit drained from his mouth as he watched each humongous, heaving muscle bulge and bulge with each rep. Those damned things looked like heavy granite slabs personified to life and crawled with so many angry, throbbing veins. It looked as if the tubes were feeding his muscles solid muscle juice; those pecs looked as though he had been pumping them for hours instead of a few short minutes, not to mention those thick veins, the most prominent of which were in the immediate vicinity of his nipples (and thus the tubes).

Gunther finally noticed the straps keeping the beast to the bench, especially the one right at the base of his rippling chest muscles.

The one that was starting to tear.

"Doc! That strap! I-It's gonna... gonna..." Gunther blinked, suddenly mesmerised by the arm muscles that bulged tremendously with each lift, "It's gonna break! Doc! It's gonna break!"

The mad doctor simply sat there, watching his experiment teeter beyond the edge of control.

"I know! Isn't it just lovely?"

While the eye candy was indeed lovely, Gunther knew very well the stakes if this raging muscle wolf got free of the strappings and broke through the glass. Gunther spluttered as he fought for a logical reply.

"Just look at him!" Funnel continued, turning back to his 'lovely' experiment, "All big and strong, and completely under control!"

A roar, ferocious and bestial, followed by the unmistakeable sound of the weight machinery being unceremoniously ripped from the ceiling and the inclined bench slamming against the almost-nuke proof glass.

"You call THAT 'under control'?!"

Funnel seemed to sober up for a moment, before finally pushing a large blue button on the console. There was a hissing sound, and the red tubes were quickly flooded with a blue coloured replacement. Gunther simply stared as the muscular beast relaxed unnaturally quick, wobbled, and then crashed onto a heaping mass on the floor. The doctor sighed as the tubes wriggled free and retreated to their respective machines, Gunther couldn't help notice the ass tube cylinder had been crushed and twisted out of shape.

"I guess we could use a break, how bout we continue after lunch? Yes I think that's a wonderful idea, go relax in the mess hall or cantina or something, I'll see you at 1700hrs."

And with that, Funnel swept out of the room. Gunther simply stood there, flabbergasted and fighting for words as the interns shuffled into the room armed with brooms and mops. He mused as the interns struggled to lift the unconscious experiment onto a stretcher so they could move him to the stasis chamber. But he did not stay long, the moment he was sure Funnel was out of sight, he strode out into the hallway and made for his quarters.

Gunther threw himself into the room even before the hatchway was fully open; luckily the management had not seen it fit to assign him an escort. They thought him a harmless lab assistant on an attachment from one of Haclyons universities. How wrong they were.

Gunther pushed a button on the communications panel and the screen sprang to life. A tough looking wolf with night black fur and a scar running down the side of his face greeted him. Gunther came to attention and saluted.

"At ease Sergeant Gunther," said Michael Pridewater, supreme commander of the Umagon Rebel Forces, "how goes the reconnaissance on the Project Warlord?"