Approx. revenge (Patreon)

He started to squirm and the eyes fluttered open. Eyes with confusion and fear. Though he can’t move much, I can see that he is testing his restraints that straps him to the table. They are rated for far more force than he could ever exert. I don’t want to rush this. I want him to feel as much confusion as possible. Fear, anxiety, anger, defeat. I want to give him the wildest emotional experience as possible. I keep out of view while he consider his position, his restraints, the chill of the room against his naked skin. Naked except the bandages and the restraints around his limbs and across his body.

He can’t see much, but he must feel that something is off. That things have changed. The dull pain of the different incisions as the numbing goes away. By now he must have seen the bag of fluid connected to his body. I wait another few minutes before I step into sight.

“So, Peter, the tables have turned. I guess it is your turn to to grow up now”. His eyes were darting around. I could see panic and hear his muffled attempts to scream through the rubber gag. I put my hand on his arm, faking reassurance. “Save your energy. This is going to be some taxing years ahead, in particular the next couple of months.”

He stop trying to scream, but his eyes are still wild. “Let me introduce you to the brilliant work that has been done while you were having a nap. Some very unusual and custom made glandular matter has been implanted into your organs, and are digging their roots deeper as we speak. In a few hours it will be so embedded that it will literally be impossible to remove. That’s when the real work begins.”

I’m tracing the outline of his right biceps with one finger. “The glands are pumping out hormones, stem cells and stuff I haven’t even heard about before. Your hole body chemistry will change to bulk you up, to make you big, to make you strong. It’s not just that your body can build muscle. It has to. Salts and acid will build up in your muscles unless you exercise them to exhaustion, making it unbearably painful to not lift heavy and often. The way you eat will change. Your taste will change. Your mood will change. Your life will change”.

I see a small tear forming at the corner of his eye, so I push on. “Soon you’ll have to go sideways through doors. You’ll speed through the Recommended Daily Intake before noon. You can only fit in clothes brands with ‘gym’ or 'strong’ in their name. And if you don’t learn to enjoy talking macros and reps, you are not going to have anyone to talk to at all”.

With that I leave the room. It will take a few days for the implants to start producing hormones and whatnot, so he is primed by the contents in the drip bag. This will shock start the process. I take extra comfort knowing he will be able to see the fluid drip as he is slowly but irreversibly altered. I let him stew for a few hours, while the implants spread like cancer in his body.

When I come back into the room his body glistens by a thin sheen of sweat, despite lying naked on the table. His eyes are pleading. “I see that your core temperature is starting to get elevated. No need for warm ups anymore. You shouldn’t expect to ever sweat less than this though, so get some good fitness clothes you can wear at all times. Take something stretchy you can grow in. Make sure it wash well, because with the amount of growth hormone that will slush around in your body you’ll stink like a rank gymbag whatever you do”.

I’m getting ready to inject the knockout anesthetic so we can move him back to his apartment, but I want him to beg for mercy. Beg for it to stop. Not that there is anything anyone can do for him at this point. It’s beyond our most cutting edge science, I’ve been told. But I want to tell him that. I reach for the gag, release the latch and pull it out.

“Who is Peter?” he asks, panting.

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