Oldman looked at his physique in the mirror with disgust. Damn, Mack's new muscle and Hog had put him to shame. Reaching to his bookcase, he picked up Schwarzenegger's Encyclopedia of Bodybuilding, and remembered how he used to follow the exercises in High School to the letter, bulking up for the team. But nothing like the mass Mack had put on. Maybe he had some secret technique...
Oldman opened the first page and read Arnie's introduction:
"When I was young I used to have a recurring dream. I was a powerful leader or dictator. I could see the whole world below my feet...".
Oldman realised that his dream was Arnie's dream, but did not know why it was haunting him now. But Oldman knew one thing - he wanted that dream more than ever. Maybe WOLF might hold the answer...Maybe he could ask him if he comes back this way again.
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Oldman looked at the clock, and realized it was to time lock up. He went out back behind the pumps to put in some work on the wrecked Harley he'd found discarded on the highway. Only an old 1200cc Fat Bob - not like Wolf's 2500cc Low Rider . Damn, everything about WOLF was fukking pumped up. Sweet ride, stacked build, plenty of cash... HE was living the dream.
Just then Oldman heard the recognisable growl of a powerful Harley. Oldman looked up at the Highway and recognised Wolf's Hog. Just then the bike's growl turned into a sputter, as the bike stalled. The bike rolled up and over, throwing the big cop over the handlebars and onto the other side of the highway. Oldman dropped his keys. Damn that transmission: that tank's gonna blow!
He ran out to the road and saw Wolf was out cold. With all his strength Oldman pulled the 300 pound gorilla away just as the bike's exploded behind them.
The sound brought Wolf round. Dazed for a minute, Wolf looked up from the edge of the road at Oldman remembering what had just happened.
"Looks like no bones broken, Cop" Oldman chuckled as Wolf got up and dusted himself off. His leather uniform and muscled frame only had a few scuffs. "Looks like you had a lucky escape from that fukked up transmission".
"Fukk that bike...and fukk that staff mechanic..!!! . Fukk, man - you saved my life. I owe ya buddy. Anythin ya need just name it. Anythin at all."
Oldman knew exactly what he wanted. "Well you can give me your garage work."
"Sure thing bro, that other fukka's gonna get his ass broke".
"But one thing I really want".
"Name it bro".
"I wanna look like you. Hell, - I wanna BE you, man, and join whatever Force you with...".
WOLF looked at Oldman. What the hell, this guy needs a break, and he sure as hell as earned it.
"You sure about that, bro? Means going undercover, outside the law. Turning ya back on all of this - on your life."
"Fuck man i ain't got no life. I don't care what kinda police you are. From where I'm lookin, it looks like the sweet life".
"Only a chosen few can join, and the training's pretty tough - even if I recommend ya. And if you fail, there are consequences."
"Bud, if it's the same training YOU had, then I want it. All I got is this heap of shit - but I AM the best Harley mechanic this side of Santa Fe".
"We can sure use that bud. You got a phone, I'll put a call in". Oldman showed him the office phone.
"You'll have to wait outside".
"Hell, sure thing. I'll bring the bike in".
Oldman got the rescue truck, and loaded up the burnt out Harley off the deserted highway, and dropped the bike in the pound round the back. Locking the gate, Oldman heard the familiar sound of what must be at least two Harleys. Running round to the front, he was confronted with the sight of a blacked out Hummer, and two Harley outriders, ridden by two cops in identical uniform to Wolf. Another huge cop stepped down from the Hummer and shook Wolf's gloved hand. As one the bikercop's dismounted, Wolf nodded to Oldman.
"That one's yours buddy".
"Fukk yeah" Oldman hooted.
"And you'll need this" said the other Cop taking a leather uniform jacket out the back of the Hummer.
Oldman slipped the Langlitz on and mounted the still-running Harley.. "Fuck that's heavy. But it feels good". Oldman
"Get used to it", Wolf laughed, by now on the other Harley. Oldman followed the Hummer and Wolf's Harley down the highway where he was heading before the accident.
Oldman and Wolf followed The Hummer all the way till they arrived at an unimposing suburban brownstone on the edge of town. Bulllitt followed the cops through a side door, past the security desk into what looked like a smokey Officer's messroom. He could only see the backs of three massive muscled uniformed cops stood about smoking cigars.
The largest one approached Oldman and stretched out a massive paw.
Oldman recognised the massive leatherclad V of muscle approaching as a pro-bodybuilder. "You ready to start your training?" said Sarge Flex in broken German tones.
"What? Now?"
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SIX WEEKS LATER
Oldman lay on the bed watching UFC on the tv in the small room that had been home for the last six weeks. He hadn't seen much outside, and had only met a couple of other big cops as he walked into the gym room next to his cell. The tv only showed WWE, UFC and occasionally CCTV of what looked like cop interrogations he realised were taking place somewhere in the police station. On one occasion he recognised Wolf brutalizing a perp. He didn't know on what grounds these people were being interrogated and didn't care. But as the weeks went on, Oldman found this channel more and more interesting, and wanted to join in.
WOLF however had told him nothing more about the covert police force, their activities, who they worked for, and who they were interrogating or why. He didn't even know where this cop station house was, as for the last 5 miles he was told to get off the Harley and blindfolded in the back of the Hummer. He didn't exactly know what he was letting himself in for, but what it had done for Wolf, and the power and cash WOLF enjoyed, he wanted that. Hell, he wanted it more and more every day. One thing was for sure, he was staying on through the training...
The "training" run by Sarge Flex had been like nothing he had expected. He went to the hospital with WOLF for his check up after his accident, but it was Oldman who had a feeding tube and two lines put in. Since then he'd been hooked up to a drip and fed 12 liters bags daily, of protein, amino acids, creatine, fat-burners and growth hormone, and a massive roid stack intravenously. The worst part was being force-fed through a funnel some wierd shakes that luckily he couldn't taste - except when he sometimes vomited. At first he protested, but "Sarge" Flex didn't give him much option, shoving the funnel down his neck.
Oldman could feel that his body was getting bigger and bigger, but was made to be clothed at all times in a loose-fitting t-shirt. Even in the shower he was blindfolded so he couldn't see. "Deprivation inspiration" FLEX called it. He could tell he was already heavier than he had ever been - with only a small roid gut. The mirrors in the gym were covered up though the other cops training felt like double his size and felt heavier as he briefly walked. The weight-training was short, brutal and hyper-intensive - powerlifting with no reps, twice a day, with FLEX shouting orders making Wolf max out on every exercise. He spent only about 3 hours a day awake, knocked out by the carb overloading, training and whatever else they were feeding him. Even during the night they continued to change the drip...
One night WOLF opened the cell door and threw something on Oldman's bed.
"Here use this, it keeps everythin in proportion, if ya know what I'm sayin. ALL the guys use 'em, hehe."
Oldman saw it was a cock-pump. Hell, he'd always wanted, like, 5 more inches...Oldman put on the pump, and fell asleep watching Wolf "interrogating" two skinny perps.
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Oldman towered above his uniformed troops, more muscular than ever. Through his cigar smoke Oldman looked down, over the top of his pecs admiring the girth of his thick 9 incher jutting out of his leather breeches.
Oldman flexed a double bicep to the adulation of his kneeling troops, as his roided semen splashed out of his cock down onto his cop boot and the slave's face under it.
Bulllit woke up and realized he had shot a load into the cock pump he was now wearing for 20 hours a day when not training. Oldman took off the pump, and was tempted to take off his t-shirt...He wakked out another load massaging his growing pex, seeing himself powerful, in uniform, interrogating perps with his cop buddies.
This was week 8 and Oldman woke up. He felt his face. The beard he had been ordered to let grow had been trimmed while he was sleeping, or knocked out: sharply and severely trimmed right up to the cheekbones. His head had been buzzed to a brutal hintite, contrasting with his black beard - just like the style half the Officers sported. His feeding tube and lines had been removed. Today must be the day he finishes his training, and joins the Force. Oldman hardened with the anticipation...
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