Chapter 8: Uncontainable Strength
The scent of ozone and sterilizing solution hung heavy in the lab, a stark contrast to the warm, food-scented haze of Penny’s apartment. The only sounds were the persistent hum of a centrifuge and the rhythmic, metallic clink of weight plates.
The source of the sound was a barbell, loaded with an obscene amount of iron, that now looked like a child’s toy in Bernadette’s hands. She stood before the bent weight bench, her body a monument to distorted physiology. Her once-petite frame had been stretched and expanded, her height now clearing six feet. The delicate bones of her face were now overlaid with thick, corded muscle in her jaw and neck. Her lab coat, a casualty of her explosive deltoid and trapezius growth, was shredded around her shoulders, hanging in white tatters that revealed a back mapped with ropes of sinew and granite-like slabs.
“I think the calibration on the dynamometer is faulty,” Bernadette said, her voice several octaves deeper, a resonant rumble that vibrated in the air. She hefted the barbell with an easy, clean jerk, holding it aloft with arms whose biceps were larger than her head, the skin stretched taut and gleaming under the fluorescents. Veins, thick as garden hoses, pulsed along their length.
“The calibration is fine,” Amy replied from across the room. She was meticulously arranging a series of vials, her own movements possessing a new, powerful grace. She had grown even taller than Bernadette, her limbs elongated and thickened into pillars of pure, dense muscle. Her lab coat was gone entirely, replaced by a reinforced sports bra and shorts that strained at the seams. When she flexed her hand, the muscles in her forearm writhed like a nest of pythons. “The data is correct. Our baseline strength has increased by seven hundred and forty-two percent. The serum has integrated with our cellular structure permanently.”
Bernadette let the barbell drop. It hit the reinforced floor with a deafening crash that made the vials on the counter tremble. “Permanently?” The word was a low boom. A flicker of her old self showed in her eyes, a whisper of the woman who used to worry about fitting into her wedding dress. She looked down at her own hands, at the fingers that could now likely crush titanium. “Howard… he… he doesn’t look me in the eye anymore.”
Amy approached, her footfalls surprisingly quiet for her mass. She placed a hand on Bernadette’s shoulder, the contact like two continents meeting. “Howard’s perspective is a variable we cannot control. Our focus is the primary experiment. The subjects in the adjacent ecosystem,” she said, with a slight, knowing tilt of her head towards the wall that faced the apartment building, “are thriving. Their symbiotic weight gain is precisely as modeled. But stability breeds stagnation. We require a catalyst.”
A slow, understanding smile spread across Bernadette’s face, erasing the momentary doubt. It was a fearsome sight, all teeth and jaw muscle. “Phase Two.”
“Precisely. But first, a field test. The theoretical limits are just that. Theoretical.”
They walked out into the university parking lot, two colossal figures moving with a predator’s ease. Students scattered, their conversations dying mid-sentence, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. Amy and Bernadette paid them no mind. Their focus was on a faded blue Volkswagen Beetle parked in a distant corner.
“This will suffice,” Amy stated, circling the vehicle. She positioned herself at the rear bumper, planting her feet. The asphalt beneath her shoes seemed to groan. Bernadette took the front.
Without a word, they bent their knees. Their bodies became a study in tension. Bernadette’s latissimus dorsi flared out from her sides like a pair of ossified wings. Amy’s quadriceps swelled, the individual striations visible through her skin. They gripped the undercarriage.
“On three,” Bernadette grunted.
One.
The metal of the car frame creaked in protest.
Two.
Their muscles swelled further, hardening into something that seemed less like flesh and more like sculpted stone. Veins bulged across their foreheads and necks.
Three.
With a unified, explosive exertion, they lifted. The Volkswagen’s tires left the ground, an inch, then six, then a full foot. They held it there, the entire weight of the vehicle suspended between them. Their bodies trembled not from strain, but from the raw, contained power vibrating within them. Shreds of Bernadette’s lab coat fluttered to the ground. The car’s chassis emitted a sustained, metallic whine.
They held it for a full ten seconds, a silent, terrifying testament to what they had become. Then, in unison, they lowered it back to the asphalt with a gentle, precise thud that was somehow more frightening than the crash of the barbell.
Bernadette straightened up, rolling her shoulders with a sound like grinding rocks. She looked at her hands, then at the car, then at Amy. The last vestige of her uncertainty was gone, replaced by a grim, powerful satisfaction. “Exceeded expectations.”
Amy nodded, her own expression one of cold scientific triumph. She looked towards the apartment building again, her gaze piercing through the distance. “The foundation is set. The subjects are soft, complacent, and massive. They believe their transformation is a product of their own choices. It is time to introduce a new element to their environment. A little… competitive pressure.”
She flexed her right hand, and the bicep bulged, a monstrous sphere of muscle that cast a shadow in the afternoon sun.
“Let’s see how they enjoy the company.”