by BBMSN
James Bond woke up on a cold slab concrete floor. He shook his head,
rubbed his eyes, and sat up. His body ached all over, and he felt deep bruising
on his chest. He looked around and saw that he was in a small cell, three walls
of which were bars. The fourth wall was brick. His cell was in the corner of a
very large warehouse. One of the barred walls was shared with a second cell
right next to him, which had a cot with someone sleeping on it. At least he has
a cot, Bond thought, as he stood up and stepped over to the shared wall of iron
bars. The man sleeping on the cot appeared to be very large, and Bond watched
for awhile as the blanket heaved up and down with slow steady breaths. No one
else seemed to be in the warehouse, so finally, Bond spoke out.
"Hey....hey....you there....wake up."
The big mound under the blanket stirred. There was a deep guttural grunt.
"Wake up," said Bond again. "Where are we?"
The big man sat up. The blanket fell away from his upper body, and Bond
almost gasped at the muscularity of the man. He was built like a super
heavyweight bodybuilder. The big man turned his head, his thick neck rippling as
he did, and he looked at Bond suspiciously.
"Where are we? What is this place?" Bond asked in a hurried whisper.
"James?" said the big man.
Bond didn't recognize the voice...it was so deep and gravelly. But the
face...
"6?" Bond asked. Agent 006 had trained with Bond at the academy. While
not exactly friends, since none of them were really, Bond remembered 6 as a
decent sort of chap, but he was always lean, almost slender. Bond had always
beaten him soundly in their martial arts training. Bond couldn't believe this
could be the same man.
6 stood up. The blanket fell off him. He had on sweat shorts, and his
massive thighs made them tight. He was about 6 feet tall and was well over 10
stone of shredded muscle. He walked over to the bars.
"James," he said nervously, "you have to get out of here."
"Where are we?"
"I'm not sure, but the lunatic who has us here is a madman."
"O'Hare?"
"Yes."
"What is he up to?"
"I'm not sure he even has one, except to dominate any man he brings in
here, especially the double 0's."
"You seen others?" Bond asked.
"Several. And it never goes well."
"How have you gotten so....?"
"So freakishly muscular? He's been forcing me to take pills that he
jokingly calls Chinese vitamins. I'm not sure what they are, but you can feel
their effects almost immediately. He makes me train with him, spar and wrestle."
"And he dominates you?" Bond asked, shuttering at the thought of the kind
of power it would take to defeat the man he was looking at.
"Every time. Although I'm getting stronger so rapidly. Look." 6 wrapped
his hands around two adjacent cell bars. He gripped them hard, and began to
pull. Bond noticed that 6's hands had grown thick with muscle. His forearms
swelled and reddened, as did his face and neck. His knuckles whitened as his
grip grew tighter. Bond noticed that 6's delts were about as big as his head.
His biceps were the size of a big ham. 6 snarled and cocked his head, and the
bars began to bend, almost unnoticeably at first. Bond thought it was just an
illusion. But then he could see it, the opening spreading out ever so slightly.
6 braced his feet against the floor and strained harder. His muscularity was so
stunning that Bond stepped back in awe. The bars moved apart another half inch,
then 6 let go of them.
"Why did you stop?" Bond asked him.
"Look at me, James." 6's arms, shoulders and pecs were crisscrossed with
veins, and his muscles continued to pump bigger even as Bond watched. "My body
responds so intensely to any kind of exertion. I can literally feel it growing
bigger, and stronger, just standing here. Plus, it makes me so horny that it's
taking everything I've got not to grab hold of you and rape you thru the bars."
Bond took another step back. "Why don't you just break out?"
"That's the farthest I've ever gotten the bars apart. And I have to bend
them back before....."
They both turned as they heard a large metal door slam open at the far end
of the warehouse.
"Fuck," said 6.
O'Hare came into view almost immediately. He came directly over to the
cells. He was in an expensive dress shirt and trousers, an outfit that, on most
men, makes hard to tell how well they're built, but O'Hare was so massive it
seemed to highlight his power build. He looked 2 weight classes bigger than 6.
"Well, look who's up," he said, looking at Bond. Then he noticed the bent
bars. He dug some keys out of his pants pocket and opened up 6's cell door. He
stepped in, and walked past 6, and over to the bars. "Been working on your
isometrics again, double zero?" he said, as he scanned the bars up and down. He
hooked one massive thumb around one bar, and his hand was so big that he was
able to grab onto the other bent bar with two of his fingers. The iron began to
creak as he gripped them. He squeezed the two bars back to nearly their original
positions. He barely seemed to exert any effort at all, and yet the bars were
dented in where his fingers were. "There now, good as new," he said. "You two
have time to get reacquainted?"
"Let us out of here, you lunatic," said Bond.
Bond never even had a chance to jump back, as the massive hand came thru
the bars like a heavily muscled cobra, and grabbed hold of his shirt. He was
pulled into the bars so hard that he was sure to have striped shape bruises from
the collision. O'Hara's powerful fingers curled up more of the material of
Bond's shirt, strengthening his hold. Bond's face was pressing against the bar
so hard, he thought his nose would break.
"Have you ever seen a man pulled thru a set of bars like these?" O'Hara
asked Bond. "Your friend has."
Bond was able to shift his gaze over to 6, who was pale as a ghost.
"It's amazing how many bones have to break before you can fit thru. All of
the ribs. The pelvis. The skull. And that's if I do it sideways. Front on is a
whole other story. He banged Bond against the cell bars a few times for good
measure. "Don't expect your special shirt to protect you either. It's not as
strong as you think." With that, O'Hara began to twist the shirt in his grip. He
twisted it until Bond was pressed even harder against the bars. He felt the
reinforced shirt tightening across his back. O'Hara reached in with his other
hand and tore the fabric down the middle. Then he pulled Bond into the bars even
harder. Bond was being crushed to death, unable to move, or even breath.
Suddenly, the fabric gave away completely, and the big Irish hulk pulled it thru
the cell bars, and tossed it aside. Bond fell back into his cell, gasping for
air. O'Hara laughed.
"I was thinking that today would be a good time for a little death match.
What do you think, zero?" he said, looking over at 6. 6 said nothing. "Yes, I
thought you would agree. And what about you, Bond? How do you think a little
hand to hand combat would go between you and your fellow agent? He's been
training very hard, as you might be able to tell. I think it might make for a
very amusing match."
"We won't fight each other," 007 growled.
"Oh, you might not fight him, but he'll fight you. Look at him."
Bond looked over at his fellow agent. 6's hardon was engorging inside his
shorts, and there was a large dark spot where his precum was leaking out. O'Hara
chuckled.
"Those Chinese vitamins have him all charged up. He knows he'll be allowed
to fuck you if he pins you down. And believe me, he is aching to fuck. It's one
of the side effects. And the more brutal he is with you, the more it will turn
him on. He won't be able to help it. He'll feel like he's going to go insane if
he doesn't rape the fuck out of you. You'll be able to do the same to him, if
you win. But your friend is very very strong now. In fact, I'd wager to say that
his arms are substantially bigger than your legs. Stronger too. Much, much
stronger."
Bond glanced back over at 6, who was clenching his fists, and his jaw, the
muscles of which had to swell out 2 inches past his face. Bond could see the
striations rippling along the jaw line as 6 ground down on them. His skin was
stretched tight across his heavily muscled body, still super taut from his bar
bending. His forearms were all ropey with muscle, plumped up like Popeye's, only
6 had biceps to match. The valley between his huge pecs had to be 4 inches deep,
and his chest heaved up and down mightily as he looked at Bond. He looked as
strong as a bull. Maybe stronger. And he even looked horny. Bond swallowed hard.
"Oh yes, I'd say a death match is just the thing." O'Hara walked out of
6's cell and came over to the door of Bond's, and unlocked it. He swung the door
open. "Let's go."
Bond walked out and followed as O'Hara and 6 led them to the far end of
the warehouse. One large area was filled with weights and benches and cables.
Another,even larger, area was empty space with a bare concrete floor. Bond
looked around quickly for any way he might escape. O'Hara didn't even need to
turn around to know what he was thinking. "You can try it if you want, but your
friend will catch you within ten steps, and brutalize you on the spot." Bond
resigned himself to stage the fight. Surely at some point, 6 and he would be
able to turn on O'Hara, and get out together.
"This is where you'll fight," said the massive Irishman, motioning to the
big empty space around them. "There are no rules, just winner take all. Now come
up and face your opponent."
Bond and 6 walked to each other and stood face to face. 6 was only slightly
taller than Bond, but vastly wider across the shoulders. His torso tapered down
dramatically, but even his waist was wide and profoundly muscled. Bond could
sense the power emanating off of his huge colleague. He could feel the heat. He
could hear his deep breathing as he stared down at Bond. No emotion showed in
his eyes.
"Ok, girls," said O'Hara, "time to show daddy what you got."
(
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