Date: Wed, 18 Feb 2009 18:34:09 -0800
From: Sean Scott <sean@buffmuscles.com>
Subject: Testos Four 13

*Testos Four*

Chapter 13


by Sean Scott (a.k.a. Derek Flex)



[Author's note:  This story contains sex acts between men, and is thus
intended for ADULTS ONLY.  If you are not an adult who wants to read this
kind of smut, please do not continue. This story also includes some graphic
violence. Reader beware.]




*Commander's Log-- Stardate: 36221.5 *

Aboard the *USS Punxsutawney*

First Officer *Eric Armstrong* reporting


Under the command of Captain Raexis Mitchell, the *USS Punxsutawney* is
proceeding to Testos Four. Our mission: to determine the Testone threat;
especially regarding their purported time-travel device, the Temporal
Transport Portal (TTP).


Normal relations between the Federation

 and Testos Four have yet to be established, due to the ongoing civil-war on
their planet. The "Renegades" faction of Testones are bent on preventing the
establishment of relations between Testos Four and the Federation. The
Renegades are the ones responsible for my kidnapping three years ago. It is
the Renegades who have supposedly developed the technology of the TTP.


As part of my ongoing development in Star Fleet

, and as preparation for this mission, I have undergone an experimental,
revolutionary process, involving the implantation of *nanites*--
micro-biological/computerized organisms designed to amplify my already
unique physical abilities.  These nanites have been injected into my
bloodstream. They have augmented my body with communication and hologram
(holo-projection) abilities, among other singular powers. Consequently, I
have no need for a communicator, and I am able to use the nanites to create
holographic images, by merely summoning them with my thoughts (since they
are embedded in my bloodstream and brain cells). Combined with my already
superior Physique-Bred Specimen (PBS) genetics, the nanites give me many
powers and abilities that far exceed normal human possibilities, not the
least of which is my super-human strength, which enhances even more my
hyper-muscular looking, award-winning physique (not bragging, just trying to
be accurate).


I have been assigned the mission of infiltrating the Testos Four Renegades,
to learn of their strengths and weaknesses, and to gain an understanding of
just how pervasive their organization is, among the regular Testone
population.  A central aspect to my mission is to find the TTP and determine
its potential functions. If operational, the TTP poses a huge risk to the
security of the Federation.


Upon arrival in orbit over Testos Four, I will beam down and infiltrate the
Renegades, in a top secret spy mission. (Mwwwaaaaaahh!)



[Author's note:  As of Commander Armstrong's beaming down to Testos Four
right now, the voice of this story will move from first-person to
third-person, except for occasional log entries, which will be obvious to
the Curious Reader.]


Commander Armstrong's head pounded. He was groggy and felt weak. As he
slowly awoke and tried to open his eyes, he fought against the
disorientation and the pain. He tried to move his arms, but it was
impossible. Ditto with his massive legs. He was strapped to a metal table,
his huge body restrained by devices similar to the ones that held him the
last time he had been on this planet. He was naked, and his huge body was
confined by these strong restraints.


*Not again!* he thought.


At that moment, a door opened, and two huge Testones entered. Armstrong
immediately recognized Captain Cutter-- the man who had tortured him
previously. The other Testone was slightly taller than Cutter, and bigger
too.


"Yes, again," Cutter said, grinning. "Those nanites you have-- they have
given us a special look inside your mind, commander." He chuckled and said,
"They give off signals that we can monitor. Basically, we can read your
mind."


Armstrong struggled against the restraints, in vain.


Cutter chuckled again. "Not to worry, commander. You won't have to struggle
too long. The injection of *testostonite* won't take long, and then we'll be
ready for your tests."


"*Testostonite*? Tests?" Armstrong asked.


"Why yes, commander. You don't think we do our experiments without testing
the results, do you?"


"What kind of experiments?" Armstrong demanded.


"Come now, Eric-- you don't mind if I call you Eric, do you? We're just
trying out a few things; we want to know what you humans are capable of. You
know, strength and such."


"You won't get away with this! The Federation will find me-- like they did
last time!" Armstrong protested.


Cutter smiled. "I don't think so. You forget, it's been three years since
your last visit-- and rescue. We've-- how shall I put it-- we've made some
significant improvements to our security measures here. Your friends won't
be able to find you."


Armstrong turned his head away from Cutter.


"Now, Eric," Cutter continued, "it's time for Lieutenant Taro here to
administer the *testostonite*. Lieutenant? Please proceed."


Armstrong looked back at Cutter, then at the huge Lt. Taro.  From the grin
on Taro's face, and the growing, throbbing of the big Testone's cock, Eric
quickly surmised just exactly how this *testostonite* was going to be
"administered."


As Taro approached, the metal restraints on Armstrong began to move; his
legs began to spread and his ass was positioned at just the right level,
relative to Taro. Despite his straining, Eric was unable to resist the
powerful bonds that moved him.


Eric flailed his head from side to side, breathing hard. His muscular body
sweated.


"Now commander," Taro smiled as his erect cock rested against, but stood
above, Eric's ass hole, "you have to know that when you try to resist like
that, in only turns me on more."


Eric tried to settle down, but he was horrified. He looked up at Taro with
wide eyes.


Taro grinned as he slowly rubbed the base of his cock against Eric's
sphincter. He was huge-- and so incredibly muscular. Eric's pheromones were
exciting the Testone, and the massive physique of the Testone was exciting
Eric.


"I think you'll actually enjoy the process," Taro said. He bent forward and
draped his dark body on top of Eric, pushing his cock against the
super-human's torso. He kissed Eric softly on the forehead. Now he spoke
softer. "You see, just as the humans have bred you for power, strength and
virility, the Testones have done the same with me." He nibbled Eric's ear.
After many years of breeding and experimentation, the result was-- well, *me
*. And I am so powerful, and my semen is so unique among Testones, that its
called *testostonite*.  It's quite powerful. It gives me some very special--
shall we say-- 'powers.'" He pushed his body upward and stood between the
commander's splayed legs. He grinned again.


Eric wanted to fight, but having Taro so close had weakened his resolve.
Now, all he wanted was Taro to bend forward again and kiss him.  The
super-human's cock was nearly ready to erupt in a firestorm of lust and
passion.


Taro resumed the slow, slimy rocking of his dripping cock, moistening Eric's
ass hole with his *testostonite* precum. Eric's butt quivered as the clear
liquid moved over the skin. Eric trembled convulsively in response to
absorbing even this small amount of *testostonite* through his pores.


Taro smiled. Then, he pulled his ass backward and positioned his cock head
against Eric's hole. Once again he leaned forward and climbed up onto Eric,
preparing to fuck the daylights out of his prey. As the impossibly thick rod
sank slowly into Eric's ass, he moaned loudly-- then even began to yell. The
pain was unreal. It was simply too big. But Taro was only turned on more by
the pain his powerful body was able to inflict, and he pushed farther and
farther inside.


While feeling so much pain, and so much desire, Eric continued yelling. His
massive muscles wanted to wrap all around Taro. At this point, Taro knew he
had Eric; he nodded to a Testone watching from an observation window, and
Eric's restraints opened. Immediately, Eric embraced Taro, and the two men
kissed and moaned together, their huge bodies engulfing each others'.


The restraints were no longer necessary.


Even if he wanted to-- and he *didn't want to*-- Eric wouldn't be able to
command his body to push Taro off. He was uncontrollably overcome with lust
and desire.


The whole sexual encounter lasted hours; both men had multiple orgasms. When
all was said and done, Eric was more exhausted than he had ever been in his
life.


• • • • •

**

When he awoke a few hours later, Armstrong could hear a number of voices. He
was disoriented again, but he quickly gained full consciousness. He felt
invigorated and strong.


"Captain," someone said. "Take a look at this. These readings..."


Armstrong saw a few Testones, including Captain Cutter, gathered around some
instrument panels.


"My God!" Cutter gasped. "It's off the scale!"


"Captain." Eric could tell it was Lt. Taro speaking now, in a hushed voice.
"We need to take security measures, sir. If he becomes aware of his new
strength..." Taro's voice trailed off.


Armstrong looked at his massive arms and legs. The restraints were back in
place again. He pushed against them and flexed them *hard*. He could hear a
slight pop. Was the metal weakening? How was that possible? Years ago,
despite his PBS strength, these super-reinforced Testone metal straps were
impossible for him to budge. The nanites must be kicking in! Or maybe the *
testostonite* had some unexpected benefits for the super-human. Maybe a
combination of both.


The group of Renegades looked away from their computer monitors, and up at
Armstrong.


The commander flexed his arms again-- his naked body rippled with inhuman
strength. His left arm was the first to break free, then his right. Within
seconds, both of his gargantuan legs were free as well. Armstrong jumped off
the table.


The Testones pounced on the human, but their *testostonite* infusions turned
out to be their own demise. Not only were the nanites giving Armstrong new
and improved strength, but the *testostonite* Taro had given him had also
improved his strength as well.


Armstrong quickly threw the huge Testones off and made for the door. As he
tried to force it open, Captain Cutter jumped him, grabbing him around the
neck. Armstrong quickly flipped Cutter over his head, pivoted around,
grabbed him again and lifted him up into the air. With his bare hands, he
snapped the huge Testone's neck, killing him instantly.


The other three Testones, including Lt. Taro, watched, frozen in horror.


Armstrong dropped the Captain on the floor and pried the door open, running
into a corridor. He didn't know which way to go. Suddenly an alarm sounded
throughout the complex-- obviously alerting others to the security threat
that Armstrong posed.


As guards filled the corridor, and as Lt. Taro and the two others in the lab
chased after Armstrong, the commander decided it was time to field-test his
holographic abilities.


"Engage nanite field," he said. He could have simply *thought* this command
to himself and the nanites could have responded; but in his training it had
been determined that in order to eliminate the possibility of accidental
activation, voice commands would be made a requirement.


Immediately, Commander Armstrong disappeared from the Testone's view. In
reality, he hadn't disappeared at all-- he had simply begun projecting an
image that blended his body into the background. He was invisible.


The Testone Renegades turned and looked everywhere, searching for the human.


"He's beamed out," one of them shouted. The complex was alerted and the
guards, along with Lt. Taro, reported to their stations to search and scan
for Armstrong.


When the Testones were gone, Armstrong disengaged the nanite field and
became visible again. He looked up and down the hallway and entered one of
the rooms at the end.


The room was dimly-lit, and there were many computer stations around the
perimeter. In the center was a large platform, with some kind of projection
devices directly above it, protruding down from the ceiling.


*Is this the TTP?* he asked himself.


Indeed, as he examined the computer stations, he determined that it was in
fact the Temporal Transport Portal.  He did some initial investigation of
the computers and came to the conclusion that the time portal was "aimed" at
Earth!


*They're planning on attacking Earth!* he thought.


He looked around the room some more, and spotted a wall that held a huge
glass-like case, containing a dozen or so small spheres, each about the size
of a chicken egg, only perfectly spherical. They were dark blue, but they
emitted a light, making them glow very faintly. He opened the casing and
picked up three of the spheres, holding them in his large hands. They were
slightly warm.


In a control room about 500 feet away, Lt. Taro watched a panel of screens.
Armstrong had been detected as soon as he had reappeared from the nanite
field. He was being tracked on Testone scanners, as well as being monitored
by hidden cameras.


"Lt. Taro," an underling said. "We do not have a protocol for this. Our
scans show that the human is much stronger than our defenses can withstand.
We must eliminate him!"


"I know," Taro smiled. "I have just the solution." As Taro watched the wide
back of Commander Armstrong in the monitor, he pressed a few buttons, and
entered in some data. A transporter beam began to activate around Armstrong.


In the TTP room, as the commander examined the blue orbs, he suddenly began
to dematerialize. Before he could audibly activate any kind of nanite
shield, he found himself re-materializing on the TTP platform! And just as
fast as he materialized, he began to feel dizzy and disoriented. The room
began to shift-- to faze. He tried again to speak-- to activate the nanites,
but it was useless. His body seemed to separate from his mind-- and then
join back again. At once, he was in deep space, then he was on a Star Ship
somewhere-- then back on Testos Four, then on some unknown planet. He was
being moved through time and space. This process took about three minutes--
three minutes of total disorientation.


• • • • •


It was dark. It smelled. It was cold. The commander was lying on a cement
floor, wearing nothing, just as naked as he had been while on Testos Four.
He raised his head. It throbbed. Outside of wherever he was, he could hear
rain falling. It was night.


Eric's body ached.


He lifted his head some more. Lying next to him were the three dark blue
orbs, glowing with a barely noticeable light.


The room-- or the building-- where he was, was probably 50 feet by 100 feet.
It had some windows, up at the top of the walls, near the ceiling, that
allowed an amount of dim-- obviously artificial-- light to stream inside.
The room was mostly empty, save for a few ancient-looking mechanical
contraptions. They reminded Eric of some of the holo-images of "automobiles"
he had seen in museums-- maybe 20th century Earth; most likely North
American. But these didn't seem to be working models at all. They were
dirty, unusable pieces of junk.


*Where am I? Or, more importantly, WHEN am I?*


The rain pounded on the metal roof of the building.


Eric stood up. His head pounded and his huge muscles ached.  "Nanite
Diagnostic Mode," he said. Immediately his corneal nerve activated his
"heads-up" like "screen" in his mind (or, more accurately, on the back of
his eyes). Eric closed his eyes to eliminate visual distractions; In his
"vision" he could see data about his body temperature, physical functions
and many other elements, as the nanites ran multiple diagnostic programs
throughout his body. Within seconds it was determined that trauma of some
kind had been inflicted; there was no evidence of prolonged effect, nor of
any permanent damage. A number of small anomalies existed, but the nanites
were unable to determine the cause; regardless, the aberrations didn't seem
serious.


*Must have been that trip through the TTP,* he thought. *That was one HELL
of a ride!* He rubbed his left shoulder.  "Initiate symptomatic protocol to
return effective state to acceptable parameters," he said. Immediately he
felt better. The pain-relief measure wasn't permanent, but it'd help him
feel better until his super-human body returned to normal. Since the nanites
didn't diagnose anything more than simple trauma, he wasn't in danger of
covering up any symptoms that required attention. He'd need to take it easy
for awhile, though, and run another diagnostic on himself in a day or two,
to make sure everything had healed.


He looked around the room. He was still cold.


"Fabricate uniform," he said. Immediately Eric was clothed with his blue and
black science officer's uniform, with his three-pip commander's-rank
insignia. It was unusual for the first officer of a ship to wear the blue of
a science officer-- normally those in command functions wore red and black--
but in Armstrong's case, he had been firmly ensconced in the science field--
an obvious choice, given his super-human, PBS makeup.


The commander looked down at his body, now warming under his Star Fleet
uniform. His muscles bulged beneath the fabric, and the clothing hugged his
physique with its customary sensual tightness.


*Now to find out where I am.* "Determine location," he ordered the nanites.


Within seconds, a message "appeared" on Eric's visual: "Unable to locate
reference point. Triangulation not possible."


"Search for available technology," he said.


On visual, the message came up: "Only available technology is GPS."


"Define GPS," he said.


"GPS: Global Positioning System. Rudimentary technology used in early
21stcentury Earth."


Eric's stomach sank. He looked at the piles of metal in the dark warehouse.
*So those really *are* automobiles,* he thought. *I'm on Earth. In the 21**
st** century!*


"Utilize GPS and determine location."


"Current location is 47° 37.216'N, 122° 19.75' W., utilizing current
measurement protocols."


"Extrapolate from data and determine nearest city or landmark," Eric said.


"Current location: Seattle," came the reply.


*Seattle! I was born in Seattle! *But, of course, he was born in the Seattle
of the *24**th* century. "Locate time beacon and determine current date and
time."


There were a few seconds of data-gathering; "Receiving data. Converting
historical archives to read signals. Archaic. Translating radio frequency
information." Finally, "Current date is Saturday, February 7, 2009. Pacific
Standard Time (vernacular) is 23:34:04.*"*

**

*Holy shit! The 21**st** century, indeed!* he thought.


"Calibrate internal nanite chronometer to coincide with retrieved data."


"Calibration complete," the message flashed onto Eric's visual area almost
before he finished the command.


Eric picked up the orbs and placed them in his uniform pockets.  He surveyed
the room again. He walked over to the side of the room, and opened a door.
The rain splashed on the pavement outside, shimmering and reflecting the
streetlight. *Yeah, it's Seattle, alright. Rain looks the same no matter
what year it is.*


A message flashed onto Eric's visual area, super-imposing over his view of
the night-time street.  "Warning: Atmospheric particulates exceed normal
acceptable levels for carcinogens and other hazardous materials. No
immediate danger is present, but long-term exposure is not advised."


"Ignore warning," Eric said. *There's nothing I can do about ancient Earth
emission levels,* he thought.


But then he reconsidered. "Belay that directive. Initiate countermeasures to
maintain optimal lung function, as well as other physical operations."


"Countermeasures initiated."


It had been only three months since Eric had completed the nanite
treatments, and the subsequent training that had been necessary. He still
found it difficult to remember everything they could do. Within a few
seconds, Eric found his breathing easier, and he seemed to have renewed
energy.


He stepped out into the dark street. A wailing sound pierced the
pitter-patter of the rain-- an alarm of some kind, perhaps. Above Eric, an
elevated freeway towered over him, and the constant rumble of traffic could
be heard; but not seeing the cars, the noise they made on the double-decker
viaduct puzzled him. He watched the large cement structure for a few minutes
and finally determined that it was some kind of transport system.


*I never knew it was so loud on ancient Earth,* he thought.


He walked down the dark street, ducking into the shadows as he occasionally
encountered people. He knew that not only his immense size and physical
development would be awkward to explain, but his 24th century Star Fleet
uniform would definitely not fit into the fashion of the day. Later, he
would need to have his nanites assess historical data of 21st century
clothing and fabricate suitable wear.


After a while of assessing his surroundings, and realizing there was no
immediate danger, Commander Armstrong decided to concentrate on his most
concerning need: Getting back to his own time.  *But how?*


Surely, the office of Temporal Control would be notified of his
disappearance, but even in the 24th century, time-travel wasn't really
feasible. Temporal Control really only had observation capabilities. That's
one reason why the TTP on Testos Four was so important. So, Eric sadly came
to the conclusion that the only viable means of getting back (or ahead) to
the 24th century was if the Testones were somehow able to *bring** *him
back. And that didn't seem likely. He'd still be looking for ways to get
back, but realistically, he'd need to figure out how to fit in to the time
and place he now found himself.


Downcast, he returned to the warehouse. He thought of his loved-ones, his
friends-- most likely he'd never see them again. He had to accept that
possibility.


He closed the door behind him and walked to the center of the dark
warehouse. It was almost midnight. He was still recovering from the time
transport. He needed to sleep-- and sleeping now would help his body adapt
to the current "Pacific Standard Time."


"Fabricate bed. Standard configuration; from preferences."


Immediately his nanites produced a holographic bed-- very large-- and a few
items of accompanying furniture and lights.


"Delete all clothing."


His Star Fleet uniform dematerialized and his huge body pulsed with his
hyper-muscular virility. On the floor at his feet, the three blue orbs
pulsed slowly. He picked them up and sat them on a bed stand. He pulled back
the thick covers of the bed, laid down and put himself to sleep.


-- -- -- -- --

[This story is continued in the anthology "*The New Adventures of
MuscleMan*<http://muscleman.buffmuscles.com/>,"
available by clicking the story link.]



Your comments are welcome. Please click the address below to send the author
a message:


sean@buffmuscles.com


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