It became apparent that the numerous shocks from the defibrillator had impacted upon the Musculusemendo in my system.

The very nature of the drug was that it wrapped itself around muscle tissue and essentially artificially fed the muscle what it needed to grow and repair itself. Without going in to too much detail – part of the drug is a live bacteria that is attracted to muscular tissue (amongst other things). This is what helps the drug attach to the muscle. The bacteria mutated under the repetitive shocks conducted by the water content within the drugs make up. This eventually led to the bacteria exploding on the muscle surface, ‘infecting’ the muscle with a chemical cocktail that led to the massive growth and mass that everyone was witnessing.

I was sitting up in my bed surrounded by 5 or 6 doctors and surgeons. The testing I had gone through in the space of 2 days was extensive. My muscle density was 12 times that of a normal male my age. My pectorals were in theory capable of stopping a .45 caliber bullet fired from 10 metres away.

The power I could generate with my new muscle mass was also impressive. A theoretical test on my quadriceps showed that they were able to produce as much as 67 000 lbf (or around 305kN) of upwards thrust in a split second – that’s almost the same power as a single Airbus A380 engine.

The muscle and by proxy my skin healed at a rate that was off current medical sciences charts. They cut a piece of my forearm (which was only able to be done under surgical conditions with a combination of acid and tungsten steel cutting tools) and the wound healed with no trace of a scar within 20 minutes.

My 6 foot 2 frame had grown to 6 foot 7. My body fat was currently sitting at 0%. My vision, which was starting to get to the point I was needing glasses, was now 20/20. My resting heart beat which was 57bpm was now 12bpm – but instead of moving 70 odd mililitres per beat it was shifting almost 2 litres of highly oxygenated blood.

“It appears you have undergone an incredible physiological change Mr. Davidson,” said an Asian man wearing a white coat.

No shit Sherlock.

Another graying gentleman added, “Your muscle development is like nothing we have ever seen. It is simply extraordinary.”

“Obviously Mr. Davidson this will require much more testing,” said a studious looking woman furiously writing notes.

I sighed, “What I’d really like is to go to home….can I go home yet?”

“Mr. Davidson,” piped up the older Asian doctor, “I’m afraid you won’t be heading home for quite a while. There are quite a few people interested in speaking with you.”

I rolled my head back, “Well can someone get me something to eat then, I’m starving.”

One of the downsides to my newly acquired condition was calorie intake. My ‘before incident’ calorie intake was around 2500 – 3200 calories a day. Over the past few days, through trial and error, we had worked out that to get by I needed a basic calorie intake of 16 to 18 thousand calories. If I was to do anything physical, say a 5 mile run – it would be closer to 25 to 30 thousand.

My breakfast this morning had been 12 rashers of bacon, 10 sausages, a dozen hash browns, a 2 litre bottle of coke, toast, beans and a protein shake that was approximately 5 thousand calories. Even 1/10th of this would usually make me sick. But I only had that familiar feeling that I would have normally got when eating a large ‘normal’ breakfast.

It was all necessary though. The ‘crash’ that I would experience if I didn’t have these mountains of food was debilitating.

Something I was really struggling with was my new found clumsiness. I was crushing things, smashing glasses and cups, all accidental. I couldn’t control the forces I was able to generate. Even my most delicate touch was like a jackhammer.

I was like the Hulk….but without the rage.

Or green skin.

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I had restrictions on the number of visitors I was allowed to see me. I nominated Emma and Becky as well as Robert. That was pretty much it. I would have liked to have included Sarah as well but that was purely a sexual desire more than actual company.

Mandee was still one the nurses on my team. Somehow our nocturnal fun had been looked over (or was being ‘put up with) in the wake of the amazing things happening to me. We still chatted throughout the day and during night shifts I occasionally bought her to orgasm with my fingers, although she did mention that they felt hard, like iron, inside her.

I had to concentrate when I was fingering her g-spot. If my attention waived for just a moment I could hurt her. She was always a good sport though, once she had cum she would always wank me off or attempt a blowjob.

Since my ‘transformation’ I had grown…..everywhere. My 8 inch cock now pushed closer to 11 inches. It was thicker and less sensitive. The first time I wanked after the ‘change’ it took me a good while to cum. But when I did cum the sensations were beyond intense. The power of my muscle spasms sent mind blowing ripples through my body.

When Mandee gave me my first blowjob she struggled with my increased size. He mouth could only accommodate the head and first 2 inches. She worked it as much as she could, relying on licking and using both hands to pump my thick shaft. When I came the spurts of cum hit the ceiling in my room. There was no more or no less than usual – it’s just that it traveled a lot faster and further.

It became clear a week after my change why I had restricted visitors.

After breakfast one morning I heard footsteps, regimental footsteps, echoing along the wards hallways. A few seconds later 3 men from the military stopped outside the nurses station and I clearly heard them ask for Mr. Michael Davidson. The duty nurse, bless her, told them that information on a patient in her care was confidential and that she would need to have written permission to pass patient information on to them.

While I loved the fact she was fearlessly doing her job it was ridiculous to try and keep me secret from them. I was the only 6 foot 7 beast in the ward. I was definitely the only one with a special reinforced bed and 7 empty plates that hadn’t yet been cleared away from breakfast.

The men said something about orders from some high up ranking person who no doubt sat in a very large office with leather chairs and Cuban cigars but she wouldn’t budge.

Then from down one of the hallways I heard an urgent voice, “Miss Conway….Miss Conway I’ll deal with these men.”

The nurse turned as a man in an expensive suit breathlessly reached the 3 ramrod straight military men.

“I’m sorry General Sampson. I’m Glenn Twyford, I spoke to you on the phone this morning.”

“Mr. Twyford,” he held his hand out to shake hands, “Please let nurse Conway know that we are to have uninterrupted access to Mr. Davidson.”

“Of course….of course. Miss Conway, thank you for your professionalism but I’ll see these gentlemen through.”

Nurse Conway seemed far from impressed with being dismissed. But she smiled and sat back down to no doubt go on the instant messenger system and have a bit of a gossip.

Mr. Twyford escorted the men to my rooms door, “And this is Mr. Davidson’s room…..”

He was about to walk through until one of the men gently but forcibly motioned him to stand aside.

The 3 men filled my room and closed the door on the frustrated Mr. Twyford who was in mid-sentence explaining that perhaps he should be present.

“Mr. Davidson, I am General Dwight D Douglas, this is Major General Steven Parks and Second Lieutenant James Proctor.”

General Douglas was a tall man of about 60 years. He bristled with importance and spoke with a deep rasping voice. Major General Parks was shorter than the General and had a distinctive American/Japanese look about him. The Second Lieutenant was a bull of a man. All muscle and experience. His angular face was broken up by a long ragged scar that emerged from his hairline, down his left cheek and stopped at his jaw. He must have been 6 foot 4 or 5.

“Mr. Davidson we are here to assess you as a possible threat to national security.”

I almost fell out of the bed, “I’m sorry what?”

“Mr., Davidson – we need to talk.”

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My talk to the emotionless General Douglas was confusing and unexpected.

The Government were unsure on what my ‘abilities’ would mean to the country.