by BBMSN
 
          James Bond and 006 were standing toe to toe on the cold concrete slab 
of the warehouse. Well, almost toe to toe, since 6's pec shelf jutted out so 
far, Bond could only get so close without bumping into it. Bond was trying to 
figure out a way not to fight, but 6 started to poke his finger into Bond's much 
smaller chest. Each poke got harder and stronger than the last, till Bond was 
pushed backward. Then 6 took a step toward him, and poked harder still. It was 
pissing Bond off, but he still didn't want to fight. So instead, he reached up 
and grabbed 6's finger as it came at him again. He tried to bend the finger up 
and backward, but it didn't budge. Bond had broken many a finger this way, but 
he had never grabbed one so thick and strong. The harder he tried to bend it, 
the harder 6 held it in place. 
         "Try both hands," 6 said. 
          Bond put his other hand around the big digit. He pushed. He twisted. 
He wrenched. He leaned into it, pushing from the floor. Nothing he did made the 
finger budge. He couldn't believe that 6's index finger could be stronger than 
his whole body. But then he felt 6 start to bend his finger downward.  Bond 
pushed upward on the powerful downward pressure. He couldn't hold it in place. 
He was being pushed down. 6 pushed harder, and 007 was pushed to his knees. 6 
pushed forward, bending Bond back farther and farther, until Bond's head hit the 
ground, bent back over his knees. He was still pushing as hard as he could 
against the powerful finger, but 6 forced it into the center of Bond's chest, 
and pushed until Bond was pinned to the floor. He couldn't move. Pinned by one 
finger, he let go of his grip. His arms fell to his side. 6 hovered over him, a 
massive mountain of muscle, holding Bond to the ground. The intense pressure of 
his one finger was making it hard for Bond to breath, his chest barely able to 
expand for air. Suddenly, 6 released his pin. He moved his hand up to Bond's 
throat and wrapped his powerful fingers around Bond's neck. Then he lifted Bond 
to his feet with one hand.
       "You ready to fight now?" said 6, releasing his grip from around Bond's 
neck. 
        Bond didn't wait for a second request. He hit 6 with a series of blows. 
Lefts and rights to the face, neck, solar plexuses, abs. He worked 6 over like 
the heavy bag, jabbing, slamming, chopping. 6's thickly muscled body absorbed 
each blow as if it were a tap. He stood and let Bond punch. It was only giving 
him a hardon like he'd never had before. The sense of his own superior strength 
was making him rage with horniness.But then Bond hit him with a roundhouse kick 
to the side of his knee. That one he felt, and Bond noticed that it registered 
on 6's face. Bond kicked him again, making solid contact. 6 grimaced. It pissed 
him off. Now he was torn between crushing Bond like a grape, or fucking the 
daylights out of him. He grabbed Bond by the neck before 007 had a chance at 
another kick, and lifted him off the ground. Then he grabbed Bond's waist with 
his other hand, and hoisted him overhead. He tossed Bond 20 feet into the weight 
room area of the warehouse. Bond slid another 10 feet, and came to a jarring 
stop against the dumbbell rack.
      Bond grabbed his aching back,then looked around. To one side of the 
warehouse was a stairway that led up. Bond could see light coming from the top. 
There must be a door that leads to the roof, he thought. He looked back at 6, 
who motioned with his fingers for Bond to come back at him. Bond couldn't 
believe how huge his fellow agent had gotten. How powerful. Bond stood up, using 
the weight rack for help. As he lifted himself up, his hand grabbed onto a 35lb 
dumbbell. He gripped it hard, and then, taking a few steps toward 006, he hurled 
it directly at his chest. 
     Even before the weight hit 6, Bond was racing toward the stairway. O'Hara 
was on the other side of the warehouse, sitting in a big chair, watching the 
battle. He didn't budge. The 35lb weight hit 6 right between his pecs, and 
bounced off, clanging to the floor. 6 looked down at it like it was a bug.  He 
didn't even take a step back. Instead, he lit out after Bond. 
     Bond could hear the roar coming up behind him. He had always been the 
fastest agent in the 100 meter dash, and in the old days, could have easily 
outpaced 006. But things had changed. Bond was only 3/4's of the way to the 
stairway when 6 caught up to him and tackled him to the ground. Bond hit the 
concrete floor hard, and the wind was knocked out of him. 6 pinned him with his 
tremendous mass, and leaned into Bond's ear. 
     "I can outrun a fucking cheetah."said the powerful special agent. He 
flipped Bond over and slammed him onto his back, then pinned Bond's legs up. 
Bond was still trying to catch his breath as 6's powerful fingers reached 
underneath him, and ripped a hole in his trouser bottoms. "Just gonna loosen you 
up some before I breed you like a bitch," he said to Bond, as he raised up his 
hand and spit on his finger. Bond began to squirm and struggle, but it was 
useless. He felt like there was a bank vault sitting on him. 
         "Not so fast," came O'Hara's voice from behind them. "Anyone's gonna 
breed that ass, it's gonna be me."
          6 looked back at the big Irishman with a desperate look in his eyes. 
"I have to fuck something. I have to," he pleaded. 
         "Tell you what," said O'Hara. "You kill him first, then you can fuck 
him."
         6 looked back at Bond, who was shaking his head no, but Special Agent 
006's raging hardon was telling him yes. He put his muscular hand around Bond's 
neck and began to tighten his grip like an iron vise. Bond felt his windpipe 
crushing in almost instantly. The thick powerful fingers were squeezing thru his 
neck muscles as if they were made of putty. Bond managed to get both his hands 
around 6's wrist, and tried to pull him off, or at least reduce the insane 
pressure of his grip. He couldn't budge him, and the grip tightened. 
         But suddenly, Bond felt the grip release. 6 removed his hand from 
Bond's neck and stood up.
         "I can't," 6 said, "I can't do it."
         O'Hara rolled his eyes. Then he began to unbutton his dress shirt. He 
stripped it off and tossed it aside. He was massive. He made 6 look like a 
middleweight next to his super heavyweight build. He wrapped his huge arms 
around 6, and locked his big hands in front of the agent's chest. Then he lifted 
6's 325lbs right off the ground and began to crush the fight out of him. 6 
struggled and twisted, but was no match for the super human strength of the 
Irish powerhouse. O'Hara hoisted him up higher and crushed the wind out of him. 
Then he dropped him to the ground. He kneeled down and  wrapped his big ape-like 
arm around the agent's neck. 
        "I can't do it, I can't do it," O'Hara said mockingly, as he jerked the 
big agent's head back and forth with his powerful arm. "You mutherfucking 
worthless piece of shit." 
       Bond sat up and tried to figure out what to do. 
        "You don't do anything," the Irishman said to him, as if he could read 
his mind. 
        "Why are you doing this?" Bond asked. 
        "I'll tell you why, you fuck. As we play around in here today, the 
Chinese are building up their army. Even now, while the West worries about Iran, 
they have over 2 million soldiers on their special 'vitamins'. Look at how they 
changed your friend here. He's been on them for 6 months. Now imagine if he had 
started using them when he was 16, like the Chinese are doing with their young 
men. The results are stunning. Imagine an 18 year old boy with 3 times the 
strength of double zero here." And with that, he jerked 6 extra hard. "Now 
imagine an army of 6 million of them. Or 7 million."
     Bond gulped. 
     "That's right. All over the country, Chinese boys are hearing about the new 
army. Hundreds of thousands are lining up to join. Imagine telling an Asian boy 
that not only can he become a massively muscled superhuman, but that his little 
dick with quadruple in size too. The army can't sign them up fast enough."
     "What's the point of it all?" Bond asked.
     "Now imagine China calling in all its loans to the United States and 
Britain. All that debt from a failed Mid-East war. Instant economic chaos. World 
markets crumbling. Total mayhem and panic in the West. And then China, taking 
advantage of the anarchy, flooding the coastal cities of America and England 
with its soldiers. Boatload after boatload. Hordes of marauding, super-strong, 
super-horny boy-men, each one over 500lbs, able to sprint for miles with 100lbs 
of equipment and weapons, able to vertical jump over 15 feet straight up, or 
punch thru cement walls. The over-stretched armies of both countries, depleted 
of much of their force, will fall quickly."
     "You're completely mad," declared Bond. 
     "Am I?" said O'Hara, squeezing his elbow tighter into 6's neck. "You think 
it's mad to think that the Chinese could take over the world, and...and this is 
the best part...have their soldiers breed as many non-Asians as they can. Spread 
their seed far and wide. And believe me, they produce a lot of seed on these 
vitamins! They can pump 10, 15 loads a day. Times 7 million. How long before the 
genetic pool of the world is altered?"
      "And what would you get out of this madness?"
     "I've got warehouses all over the world that will keep them stocked with 
their needs as they take over."
     "They will bomb China back into the stone age." said Bond.
     "What if I told you that they've developed a missile defense system that 
can seize control of a missile in mid-flight, and then redirect it to anywhere 
they want?" 
     "That's not possible," declared 007. 
     "The Chinese are prepared to give a demonstration, and to warn the West 
that any bombs directed toward them or their interests will be redirected to 
Washington and London. The more they send, the more annihilated those cities 
will be. Not that one bomb that is 100 times the power of the Hiroshima bomb 
wouldn't take care of it."
       Bond was beginning to sweat. He had to get out of there and contact 
headquarters. He had to divert O'Hara's attention.
     "Let him go," Bond implored, nodding toward 6. 
     "Let him go? When I'm done." With that, the huge Irishman hoisted 6 clear 
off the ground and crushed his elbow against his throat. Then he put his free 
hand against the side of 6's head. "Say nighty-night to your little friend, 
Bond."
    'NO!" cried Bond. But it was no use. O'Hara massive hand pushed hard against 
6's skull and snapped his thick neck like a twig. 6's body went instantly limp. 
O'Hara dropped him to the floor in a crumpled heap of muscle. 
    Bond, in horror, leapt to his feet and made for the stairway again. He heard 
O'Hara shoving 6's body out of his way and head after him. Bond flew up the 
stairs double time. The door to the roof was unlocked, and Bond bounded out onto 
the rooftop. The heavy metal door slammed behind him. There was a loose cinder 
block next to the door. Bond used it to wedge it shut at the bottom. Then he ran 
to the far end of the roof and looked over. It was about 4 stories down to the 
street. The warehouse was on a pier and not close to any other buildings. There 
was nowhere to go. He heard a loud thud as O'Hara's massive shoulder hit the 
door, denting it outward. Then the heavy metal door burst open, completely 
ripping off its hinges and cracking the cinder block into pieces. O'Hara 
strutted out onto the roof. He seemed even bigger out in the open. He clenched 
his massive hands into fists, and started walking toward Bond. 
     Suddenly, Bond heard a helicopter. So did O'Hara. They both looked up as it 
appeared in the sky, moving toward them fast. As it swooped over the rooftop, 
Bond saw M looking down at him, pointing. Another helicopter came up, as the one 
with M maneuvered in to land on the roof. O'Hara picked up the metal door and 
bent it in two. Then in two again.He appeared to be about ready to hurl it at 
the copter, but then a third helicopter arrived. He tossed the door down, and 
made for the side of the roof. Bond gasped as he watched O'Hara leap over the 
edge. 
    The helicopter landed, and M got out. 
    "Bond," she called. 
    "How did you find me?" he yelled back. 
    "One of your shirt buttons was a transponder."
    Bond ran to the side of the building and looked over. In the cement 
pavement, there were two size 18 footprints, 6 inches deep, surrounded by deep 
cracks. O'Hara was gone. 
    "Bloody hell," Bond yelled, slamming the wall with his hand.