Hulk -- Part 3
by wbhulk
The burning sunrise of a desert morning suddenly lanced across the mountains on the horizon, opening my eyelids involuntarily. I propped myself up on both elbows, looking down at my chest—and noticing with a start that it was no longer green. Disbelievingly, I sat up and looked at my hands, my feet, my cock…all back to normal tan. Were my feet farther away? I looked a little closer…and there were some definite changes. My abs were just a bit more visible, my quads a little better defined. I looked down and flexed my bicep, which flared up more than it had before, my ropy triceps pulsing as I straightened my arm. Suddenly remembering Tim, I looked over—and started again.
Tim was back to his normal sallow complexion. But there was a lot more of it—flaring pecs, upper arms ham-sized and cut, forearms roped with muscle, a definite muscle gut, nice wide legs—and a definite size improvement on the business implements I dimly remembered from the night before. Why had he grown so much when I hadn’t? As I sat there staring at him, his eyes flicked open and he sat up, looking around fuzzily and then coming awake with an almost audible jerk. “Jesus! What happened to the place!” he said, taking in the smoldering remains of his house, the car, and the barn.
“You don’t remember?” I said, almost dumbfounded.
“Remember what?” he said, looking at me like I’d just fallen off the turnip truck. “Last I remember I came outside ‘cause I’d heard a noise. Then I wake up and I’m laying on the ground stark naked with another naked guy and watching everything burn. What should I remember?”
Very good question, I thought. Quickly my eyes cast about…and saw the shattered remains of the propane tank. “The gas explosion,” I said, careful not to meet his eyes. “The propane tank blew up and I found you unconscious. The fire was so hot that it was singing our clothes, so I stripped both of us and soaked them in the water tank to keep us cool.” Let’s see if that works.
“Thanks,” he said, looking at me suspiciously. “But how did you know, and how did you get here so fast?”
Rats. I’d forgotten that we were twenty miles away with no road. “The same thing happened at my place,” I said, improvising as fast as I could think. Explanation, explanation! “Maybe it was that developer that wanted to build a resort community out this way and the owners wouldn’t sell.” I felt my cheeks flare hot—hopefully Tim would think it was just the sun. “He probably hired some goons to blow it up. I was outside and wasn’t hurt, so I hopped on a horse and headed this way.”
“Damn developers, “ Tim said, eyes flashing with rage. “God, what I would do…….” He started hopping up and down, flaming mad. I watched him closely, a sudden thought crossing my head. “We’ve got to report this to the sheriff,” I said. “Why don’t you head over to my place—you can stay in the spare bunkhouse.” Which my hired hand had used. “I’ll head into the county seat and report this. Then…”—I grinned—“it was time to take my vacation anyway. My cattle can take care of themselves until I get back.”
If I get back. “Sounds good, “ Tim said, visibly relaxing. “I’ll take care of the place while you’re gone. But, have you forgotten about our clothes…or lack of them?”
Six minutes later, I was on Tim’s paint gelding, wearing the latest in saddle blanket ponchos and sitting on a folded piece of foam. Thank goodness the tack shed had survived. I kicked up into a high lope, headed for the short pass into town, my mind working as fast as Cacahuete was running. My hired hand had changed when I slugged him. Tim had been a lot madder than that, and he hadn’t changed. But he had gotten healthily bigger. What was the catalyst for this? When would he change? Would I ever change again? Questions take a lot of time to think about, especially when you don’t know the answers. The sun was sinking low into the sky as we crossed the pass and looked down into the valley where the little town that was the county seat was located. I eased Cacahuete down the steep slope, making certain to avoid the lights that were winking on as we snuck down the back alleys—no use getting arrested for public indecency when you’re heading to the police station anyway. I tied the horse to the hitching rail out front, tried vainly to make sure the itchy wool was covering everything, and furtively slunk up the steps and into the hoosgaw.
Thank heaven Sheriff Jackson knew me pretty well. “Sounds kind of suspicious, Tommy,” he boomed from the deep well of his ample gut. “We sure ‘nuff better go out and inspect the place. But I’m going to be busy—mind if my new deputy goes instead? We’ll send you out in the four-by-four and get you there a lot quicker. And let me get you some clothes, for gosh’s sake!”
“No problem,” I said, relieved that he’d more or less bought the story. After a quick raid of the lost-and found, I was more or less decently-attired—thank goodness that almost everyone in the county wore Wranglers and boots. I took my horse out to the little stable in back, made sure he was set, and then came around front. The county truck came around the corner and I in I hopped.
“Hi,” said the voice from the darkness across the seat. I looked over and saw a good-looking twentyish fellow, skinny, but pleasant-sounding and clean-cut. His boyish voice stirred a little spark in my insides that I’d never felt before. “I’m Deputy Stevens. Sheriff Jackson told me all about what happened. Hope we can get to the bottom of this,” he grinned. Immediately I quashed a very strong thought that came up from my groin. What in the hell was I thinking?
The ride out to the Bar S seemed to take longer in the truck than it did on the horse. Deputy Stevens tried a few conversational openings, but after a few of my strangled one-word answers, my thoughts obviously focusing anywhere but on him, he decided I was tired and kept quiet. I stared out the window at the rocks and sagebrush flashing by, my mind a jumble of impressions dominated by the very clear conviction that I wouldn’t be able to control myself much longer. Suddenly the stink of burnt building came from the dashboard vents, snapping me back to reality. I jumped out of the truck as soon as we came to a stop, trying to keep my mind anywhere but on the lanky form getting out of the driver’s side.
“Man alive. Talk about a mess!” came the deputy’s voice. I looked over unconsciously and immediately snapped my eyes front and center as just the fragment of his body I saw in the dim starlight sent an electric charge through my cock. I felt my control slipping away by the second. “So where do you think they placed the bomb?” he said brightly, jogging over to where I was admiring what remained of a mesquite bush.
“Right here,” I said instantly, my voice deepening. I whirled around, the last vestige of my self- control melting like sugar in a fire. “Would you like to see it?” I rumbled, as I felt that sweet burning sensation again in my cock.
“Sure. Where…..” he suddenly trailed off, eyes widening as he looked into my eyes.
“Here it is!” I roared, as my cock tore through my zipper, beautiful and turning greener by the second, fragments of shrapnel shooting from my groin and embedding themselves in the blackened trees. His eyes widened in fear as I reached out and grabbed him, hands and arms growing exponentially, muscle ripping through the borrowed shirt, pecs exploding out a glowing emerald in the dark. His boots lifted off the ground as my legs grew like a time-lapse of a tree, the last fragments of my pants swirling around my massive jade feet as my body tore loose of all constraints, solid muscle everywhere, chiseled, rock-hard, and incredibly green. “Hulk da bomb,” I rumbled, running a massive finger up and down his skinny body as he fought my one hand gripping him. I took his gun from his holster, stuck it in my mouth, and chewed it to bits, metal screaming as my ivory teeth tore it apart. “Taste good,” I rumbled, swallowing it with a gulp, then emitting a massive burp that shook the trees.
Every part of my body tingled. This was what I wanted, what I had always desired to be. I felt the sex lust fill me again, but this time slightly tempered. Tenderly I peeled him of his clothes, laying them aside in a neat pile. Then I brought him up to my lips and kissed him, feeling my man-saliva work its sex power again as he went from fighting resistance to desperate sucking. I set him back down on the ground and hit pose after pose for him, watching the drooling expression of ecstasy cross his face as I showed him every contour of my massive body. I let him feel me all around, hugging my basket-balls to his chest, swinging himself deleriously around my tree-trunk thighs, fisting me with his arm, doing chinups on my flexed biceps, his fingers vainly trying to dig into my green armor skin. I looked down at his skinny smooth body—I knew exactly how to fix that. I squeezed my nip with one finger, guiding his face towards it with the other. Green muscle cream shot out, bathing his head and body in its glowing power. I watched his body grow and expand, my cock stiffening as I saw my man-cream shape and sculpt this twig of a man into a green tower of pure virility, filling out his frame with layer upon layer of green muscle, a jade Michelangelo’s “David”, balanced, proportioned, perfect for pleasure, and topped with a fine fuzz of green hair. I brought him to me, my cock stiffening and driving into his pleasure ass, as our lips met and our muscle bods pushed against each other, sparks flying from the points of contact. I thrust him up and down my cock, his ass obediently working my head over and over again, until I felt that sweet rumble, pulled out, and shot a laser beam of cum through six trees, digging deep into the ground as its trajectory fell. I swung him around and let him ride me, his legs kicking my sides as he thrusted, my ass returning his favor, until I felt that sweet hot load of Hulk-cum fill my ass again. Over and over we played, sucking, thrusting, pushing, fisting, anything-ing, spending that inexhaustible superhuman lust that filled our bodies to the brim and drove us to the ultimate ends of passion.
The heartless sun woke me again. I looked over and saw Deputy Stevens sleeping peacefully, his clothes neatly stacked and folded next to him, at least forty pounds of new muscle and wispy hair adorning his swimmer’s frame. Quietly I got up, tiptoed to the tack shed, and set out again, riding a borrowed horse in a borrowed set of clothes to a future that held who knows what.