BODY GUARDS  -  Chapter 6

By:  JOHN

So much had happened the past three weeks. Much of it seemed like a 
confusing blur to Wells as his body responded to this most recent and 
amazing muscle-fuck. Wells and Klein had decided that, in view of the 
little bit of information they had gotten from the handler 
interrogation, they had to risk the jump to the M4 level. Weir had to 
be stopped; his testing cell destroyed; and Ryan One retrieved safe 
and alive.

The loss of Ryan Two and Ryan Three left the older brother as the 
only chance for the long-term survival of the M-Corps. M3/8 Hanson 
and his handler were already back in the States briefing the 
government on what they had found out. At least this would clear 
Wells and Klein for the deaths of Ryan Two and Ryan Three. 

Here once again in the relative safety of Buenos Aires, the nightmare 
back in the Bolivian tin mine seemed so long ago and far away. In a 
way they still mourned the loss of Vesuvius and his immense muscular 
beauty but he had had to be stopped. Besides, the gorgeous Italian 
muscle-god had been directly responsible for the deaths of several of 
the American team.

Wells and Klein had gathered up Marks and Oscar and fled in the 
remaining plane as quickly as they could; stopping only to take some 
of the frozen Ryan cum they found in the lab freezer at the Bolivian 
Coven stronghold. Both M3 men had been dangerously close to the limit 
of their time range without a booster of cum up their magnificent 
asses. They had also grabbed a couple of canisters of cum marked for 
Vesuvius. The M4 wonder wouldn't be needing it anymore and Wells 
thought it might be valuable for the scientists in the States to 
examine. Marks and Oscar told them that Weir had taken Hong Tu with 
him.

Marks had brought them up to speed on the little he knew about Weir's 
defection. Obviously this double-life had been going on since even 
before he assumed command of the M-Unit some years ago. Marks could 
only guess that Weir was dissatisfied with the American military's 
refusal to expand the M-squad and its role in fighting global 
terrorist groups so he had decided to build his own multi-national 
organization of super musclemen. From the number of meetings and 
trips Weir had taken Marks on, the handler also believed that there 
might be other more notorious international figures involved with 
Weir's plans.

A couple of days after they got back to Buenos Aires, the bodies of 
M3 Starks and his handler, Mike had been discovered not far from 
their mutual contact point. Apparently he had some key information he 
felt a need to share but had been unsuccessful in his task. Nothing 
seemed to add up. Vesuvius was gone, Weir was nowhere to be found, 
the Latin American cell had been destroyed and, yet, an operative was 
on the loose – from the cum found inside Starks, it looked as though 
it was a rogue handler.

Mike had been shot but Starks had succumbed to the same fate that had 
befallen Franks back in Bolivia. The M5 level cum forced into his 
system had been much too much for him to ingest. His intestines had 
been burned clear through by the acidic protein in the unfiltered 
cum. His fantastically muscled, 415 pound body showed no signs of any 
struggle. It was as if he had simply opened up his perfectly carved 
ass to the deadly invasion.

It wasn't until a week later that Wells figured it out. It came to 
him like a bolt of lightning and struck his mind just as hard. They 
had been looking at the wrong organization for the killer. In fact, 
it was this same man who had started this whole mess several weeks 
ago.
Wells pulled Marks, Oscar and Klein together one evening. There was 
only one obvious answer, he told them, there was still a member of 
Weir's organization operating right inside their own.

"Who!" Oscar and Klein demanded simultaneously as Marks sat in 
apparent silent shock.

"It's funny that you would ask!" Wells retorted staring directly at 
Oscar.

"Me!" Oscar shouted jumping up. "You're out of your mind. I'm Klein's 
handler. I've been with you guys now for going on three years!"

Klein's training caused him to react immediately as he sprung up 
clutching Oscar's slight body in a full-nelson.

"Think about it, Klein." Wells continued. "Who did Oscar handle a 
couple of people before he was assigned to you?"

"Before me there was M2 Hook and M2 Brooks …" Klein retraced Oscar's 
long history as a handler in his mind.

"And before that" Wells finished the thought "it was Weir! And Oscar 
always took those 4 or 5 day short "party" leaves instead of any big 
vacations. In fact, he was away at the same time that the Coven M4 
agent, Arturo, was reported to have been killed."

"You came here," Wells turned his attention back to Oscar "you 
infused him with the deadly M5 cum and you left him to die.  You and 
Weir probably used poor Gobel just to get the attention of the M-Unit 
focused on this new enemy!"

"Bull-shit!" Oscar sounded out. "If it hadn't been for you two, Marks 
and I were certainly next to be killed after the Bolivian cell 
finished the two of you off. Why else were we both locked in that 
room next to the gym?"

"I get it!" Klein chimed in picking up where Wells had left off and 
ignoring Oscar's proposition. "That way, Weir had all the cause he 
needed to ship all of our M3 Unit down here and begin the deliberate 
process of eliminating us."

"This is stupid!" Oscar protested as his small slight figure found 
itself buried inescapably within Klein's huge, sculptured body of  
staggering muscle. "Starks, Franks and that Arturo guy all died from 
an injection of M5 level cum up their asses. You've seen me, do I 
have the cock of a potential M5 handler."

"No, I admit that you don't." Wells acknowledged. "We've always 
figured that an M5 level handler would have a cock that, when 
aroused, would be over two feet long. But that's the beauty of your 
scheme, you have always had one of the smallest handler cocks at each 
level of your development. I know, because we would always joke about 
it behind your back. So now, instead of the 14" or 15" M3 cock you 
would probably have, you are armed with a `tiny' 18" M5 caliber 
weapon."

"Right!" Klein added tightening his clasp on the small man out of a 
sense of growing anger. "You're the only handler who has been 
everywhere someone has been cum-killed! Was that it? Starks had 
figured it out, too, so you were forced to take him out!"

"And just how would I be able to do that!" Oscar screamed.

"I think we can verify that right now." Wells said confidently while 
walking over to the nearby freezer.

Wells shuffled through the ice-packed canisters they kept in there 
finally pulling out the one that was marked for `Vesuvius'. He held 
the frosted glass up to the light. The canister was only about 2/3 
full.

"You were intending to stay at the Bolivian camp! You were assigned 
to Vesuvius! …and you were planning to take him to the M5 level!" 
Wells accused. "only, we kinda screwed up yours and Weir's little 
plan when we managed to take out Vesuvius and his whole squad."

"What about the Ryan brothers?" Oscar demanded. "How do you allege 
that I fit into that?"

"That's even simpler." Klein smiled over to the nodding Wells. "Oscar 
is the one who stayed behind on that last night in Washington to 
clean up. He met us at the plane. Oscar had more than enough time to 
get into the lab, kill the Ryan's, seed the place with traces of our 
own cum and get out."

Marks walked up to stand face to face with his fellow handler.

"You piece of traitorous scum!" He shouted aiming an astonishingly 
strong punch into Oscar's bared midsection.

"You guys don't get it! Do you?" Oscar cried cringing in severe pain 
from the punch. "Our government is letting the world run wild with 
terrorism while it continued to creep on at a snails pace with its 
greatest potential weapons - the M-unit!"

"They had perfected Ryan cum stabilization all the way up to the M5 
level" He continued "but were afraid to use it until several more 
years of study and research could be done. Our stupid government is 
its, and the world's, own worst enemy! Somebody has to do something 
and thank God for brave men like Major Weir who is willing to do just 
that - something!"

"…and in the process, he planned to destroy the very unit he was 
sworn to support." Wells threw in Oscar's spitting face.

"You would never have volunteered to join us!" Oscar spat back. "We 
needed Ryan One and we needed the research on his cum so that we 
could do exactly what we are doing – building our own great army of 
impenetrable men to stamp out terrorism."

"God, the world is so lucky to have you and Weir, isn't it?" Klein 
mocked back. "Where is Weir now? Where is he keeping Ryan One? And 
what is he planning to do with his new army?"

"I don't know!" Oscar replied staunchly. "We work in well defined 
individual cells. My job was with the Latin Cell, until you destroyed 
it! Weir could be anywhere and wherever he is, I hope he succeeds - 
for the good of the world!"

"You are as sick as Weir is!" Klein snarled placing one large hand on 
top of his captive's head. "I don't think anyone will be too 
disappointed or sorry when I rip your head right from your puny 
shoulders.

"Don't!" Wells cried. "We actually need him right now."

"What value could this sick little weasel be to us now?" Klein spit.

"He's an M5 level Handler." Wells responded calmly. "Wherever Weir 
is, we have to presume that he is continuing to build his M3 and M4 
army. I don't know about you, but I would prefer not to have to go 
through what we endured against Vesuvius in our next encounter."

"What are you suggesting?" Klein eyed Wells curiously.

"If we mix Vesuvius' left-over M5 cum with the M3 canister we took, 
we can have Oscar take us to the M4 level."

"That can be awfully dangerous!" Klein reacted.

"I know, but it gives us our best chance against Weir and his men 
when we catch up to him." Wells reasoned. "And Oscar is the only 
handler capable of doing this."

"What makes you think I'll agree to this?" Oscar cut in.

"Oh, you'll do it, all right." Wells nodded. "You'll do it because 
you would rather be a live captive than a dead traitor."

That was almost two weeks ago. The following day they had forced 
Oscar to inseminate himself under Marks watchful eyes with the first 
mixing of M3/M5 cum. They needed a full 48 hours before Oscar's 
system would have processed it and stored the unique Ryan proteins to 
a safely infusible level.

Wells wanted to be the first volunteer but, because Oscar had been 
Klein's handler, he went first. In spite of his now know distaste for 
the American program, Oscar had always loved his work with Klein. The 
fabulous muscle-ass of the 415 pound muscle-god opened up as it had 
many times before to Oscar's excited cock. The cobra-shaped shaft 
plowed deeply into the gorgeously muscled body. It had been several 
weeks so Klein's ass took a few moments to re-learn the joy of having 
1½ feet of hard, fat cock inserted within it.

His beautifully pumped musculature burst out into a dazzling display 
of intensely cared beauty. He rode the consumed 18" cock with great 
pleasuring relish. Klein's ass fed on the great dick faster and 
faster until Oscar could no longer refrain from release. Powerful 
jets of hot, burning cum flowed into Klein's hungry ass. The hot 
burning sensation became almost unbearable as the richness of the 
stronger proteins singed the lining of his intestines. Almost a cup 
of hot white cum was left in the core of gloriously muscled ass. Now 
all Klein could do was to wait.

Within an hour the effects began to surge through his starving 
muscles. Klein pumped his muscles hard and hot with all the power he 
could push into their expanding cores. Wells assisted by letting his 
own extraordinary muscles serve as resistance to Klein's isometric 
workout. The two huge living muscle sculptures pumped back an forth 
drawing as much blood through Klein's chiseled muscles as fast as 
possible. They struggled in awesome naked splendor as sweat polished 
their enormously fleshed bodies.

Using both hands, Wells pulled with all his own immeasurable arm 
strength against Klein's staggeringly peaked arms. The wound-up balls 
of strikingly striated biceps meat rose higher and fuller with each 
successive pull. The 29" spectacles became history as 30" and then 
31" and 32" of overall diamond-hard girth flexed and fought its way 
into existence. At 33" of mountainously rocked muscle, Klein's arms 
stood out as breathtaking wonders.

His entire upper torso swelled with enlarged power as cabling of 
newfound muscle rolled into striated view settling onto his new 78" 
chest and upper back. Klein's thighs became spring-coiled wraps of 
muscle 44" in diameter and his calf muscles looked like shredded 
column caps of uncrushable meat 26" around. His waistline held fast 
at 31" but glowed with the fissured power of his intensely formed abs 
and obliques. His ram-rodded cock swelled another half inch in 
diameter and forced it's immovable shaft out to a total length of 
14". In the end, he was a brilliant recreation of the physical image 
that had been Vesuvius.

Klein let Wells and Marks join him in the first pleasuring release of 
his enhanced cock. The cannon-like instrument fired its first shots 
of creamy cum several feet across the room. The following loads were 
no less intense until he had surrendered almost as much cum onto the 
floor and into the opened lips of his friends as Oscar had forced 
into his gut.

Two days later, it was Wells turn. Klein had experienced some side 
effect on his first day, but they seemed to pretty much dissipate 
during the second 24 hours. He loved the feel of his new muscle from 
within and in the brutal density he could feel with his own self-
adoring hands. He could not even begin to guess at the levels of 
increases in strength, but Klein could feel the vitality with every 
little movement. Only the memory of Vesuvius' equally staggering body 
being buried under the tons of collapsing rubble reminded Klein of 
his human vulnerability.

The transformation for Wells was not as smooth. Oscar mounted the 
awesome spectacle of Wells ass with the same lusting relish that had 
possessed Vesuvius. Oscar could barely contain himself as visions of 
what Wells ass would be like once he reached the M4 level of 
development drove his 3" wide cock painfully into Wells clasping 
glutes with an unusually strong burning power. The insides of the 
writhing muscular being were still tender from Vesuvius' previous 
invasion with his 4" wide battering ram.

The still-recovering condition of Wells gut swallowed the cup-sized 
serving of Oscar's processed cum. A deep burn seared through the core 
of his cum-filled insides almost immediately. Wells collapsed onto 
the floor of their small apartment living room curling into a massive 
carving of distressed muscle. His body seethed with pain as the white-
hot cum churned inside his invaded intestines. But for the knowledge 
of the discomfort Wells was experiencing, the three onlookers stared 
with orgasm-inducing wonder at the vast, crisp power of Wells, 
pumped, naked form. Wells own cock fountained with gushing cum as the 
burning pain electrified his over-charged sexual equipment.

As the last of Wells spewing cum left its plentiful pond on the worn 
wooden flooring, he passed out. The next twenty-four hours were 
filled with fear as Mark and Klein sat watch over Wells beautiful, 
unresponsive body. Fevered sweat soaked the sheet of Wells bed. 
Eventually he drifted into what appeared to be a deep sleep and awoke 
with a great hunger and a drive to push his burning muscles through a 
torturous workout.

Klein, with his newly enhanced musculature and strength proved to be 
of greater benefit to Wells than Wells had been to him before as they 
pounded through the isometric exercises for Wells.  His insanely 
brilliant muscles responded almost immediately to the inhuman 
stimulation. With the floor as his bench, Wells launched into a pec 
exploding set of presses with Klein's inverted 485 pound body in a 
clasping handstand position as his weight.

Towel after towel was rendered into rags as the two gargantuan 
musclemen forced Wells blossoming torso through several sets of tug-
of-war lat pulls. Wells lats surged ever bigger with each successive 
set until, by the time they were done, his upper torso measured a 
staggering 82" in circumference of pure, fissured muscle. His pecs 
stood out like great half-globes of meaty magnificence thicker at 
their maximum than the length of Klein's extended hand up to the 
wrist.

Mark lost his load several times while watching the two god-like 
creatures embraced in mountain-carving arm wrestling. It was not long 
before Wells biceps and triceps swelled to a scale surpassing those 
possessed by Klein. The dueling peaks of the meloned biceps meat 
glowed with unfathomable power and vein-fed beauty. Mark was given 
the opportunity to enjoy the feel of the two monstrous carvings of 
arm muscles in action against each other. The sweat-polished skin 
served as nothing more than a coloring sheen over the diamond-hard 
pumped flesh. Eventually, Klein's 33" upper arm marvels had to 
surrender their trophy to the newly mounded steel meat of Wells 34" 
appendages.

Wells ass became the stupefying form that Oscar had envisioned, and 
then some. Chiseled lining of gorgeous striations cut deeps gashes 
across Wells flexed ass cheeks and the surreal muscle rose into great 
canyon walls protecting his sphincter from access by anyone's cock 
that he chose not to let in. The vastness of his 82" pecs and his 
rock-cut strata of gluteal muscle was all the more shocking when set 
off against Wells strikingly hard and cut 31" waist.

Vesuvius' 14" manhood became only an entertaining memory when 
imagined against the 15" by 4" wide museum-quality organ rising from 
Wells groin. The image of strength possessed by his hardened cock 
matched that of his impenetrable body. Mark attempted several times 
to dislodge it from its locked position when completely aroused 
without success. He was sure that, given the chance, the monstrous 
mast rooted into Wells groin could fully support his own entire 170 
pound weight.

Even Wells had difficulty at first in bringing his over-stuffed organ 
to orgasm. The power of his own hands eventually learned how to push 
his heated cock to a mystifying explosion of cum. Torrents of semen 
sailed in endless arcs a full body length from the point of emission. 
His supreme, new 510 pound body of heavenly muscle slashed itself 
into body-crushing beauty at the moment of life-fulfilling orgasm.

They were ready now. All they needed was a destination. The task of 
finding Weir and Ryan One remained and either Oscar was a great liar 
or he truly had no idea where to find the traitorous leader. Klein 
finally suggested that all the remaining M3-squad members and 
handlers meet at their designated contact point to see if, together, 
they could share enough clues to give them a new direction. 

Late one night, Klein, Wells and Mark, with Oscar in tow, headed to 
the old gym in which they first encountered Arturo's ill-fated 
handler. M3 Hanson along with his handler, Raymond, and M3 Balling 
and his handler, Sonny, were already there. To say the least, they 
were awe-struck at the visions of muscle that Klein and Wells had 
become. Pushing Oscar into a dark corner, they spent the better part 
of an hour sorting through the information they had gathered, but to 
no apparent avail.

Finally it was Mark who suggested that they go through a history of 
Weir's excursions over the past few years. It seemed obvious, Mark 
suggested, that the Coven could not have become as well organized as 
it was unless Weir had been making regular visits to some of their 
key sites. Mark recalled that Weir had paid a number of visits to 
Buenos Aires and, probably, to Bolivia from there. There must be some 
other common denominator they were all overlooking.

Klein was the first to hit on a unique anomaly of the South American 
Coven contingent that they had all missed. Several of the members 
were not South American at all. Vesuvius, Curt and Arturo, in fact, 
all spoke with Italian accents.

"That's it!" Mark shouted. "Sicily! Weir has been to Sicily several 
times. It's got to Sicily!"

Oscar had made his move in their immediate excitement. He bolted 
suddenly across the room and out the door. Klein was right behind him 
as was Hanson. Oscar sped down several dark streets almost loosing 
the two veteran bodybuilders. He ducked into the doorway of a small 
rowhouse. Klein and Hanson were not that far behind but Oscar was 
nowhere to be seen. It was a few minutes before the memory of the 
house came back to Klein. It was the same unit that they had been 
taken through on the night they had met Diego.

The two men raced down to the basement. Hanson was confused until 
Klein directed him to help open the passage into the local sewer 
system. Once inside, they began to retrace Klein's first travels 
through the dark, damp tunnel. Suddenly, a couple hundred feet ahead 
they spied the shadowy silhouette of Oscar's small figure. No sooner 
than they sighted him a second outline loomed into view.  Both men 
were stopped dead in their tracks with disbelief. 

While it wasn't possible to make out any specifics about the second 
figure, one thing was sure, it was a creature of such staggering 
muscular size that even Klein's 485 pounds of pure muscle seemed 
diminished. The outline of the immense creature caught up Oscar's 
insignificant form. In a second it was all over. There had not even 
been time for Oscar to utter a final scream. The shadowy mountain of 
muscle turned and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Klein and Hanson rushed forward as quickly as they could but with 
exercised caution. When they finally arrived at Oscar, it took all 
their power to resist the vomit that pushed against their throats. 
Oscar's face that had been so familiar to them was all but 
unrecognizable and his rib-cage had been reduced to a bone-shattered, 
shallow core.

Now, these several days later, Klein, Wells, Hanson, Mark and Raymond 
were enroute to Sicily. Balling and Sonny were in the States briefing 
the government and gathering what help they could. They had their 
destination, but still weren't sure exactly what they were about to 
face.