Clark awoke the next morning feeling strangely energized. He 
new he had donned the red kryptonite ring the night before, but he 
never could really remember what happened after he was exposed to 
the strange meteor rock...he just always remembered feeling as if he 
had been free to unleash himself, without constraints, after wearing 
the ring. It was a feeling he liked and it was a bit addicting to 
him. He got up, did his chores, went to school and came home. After 
dinner, he slipped into some oversized sweats and drove over to 
Pete's to see if he'd go out with him and let him know what happened 
while he was under the effects from the red kryptonite.

      "Man," Pete said with a slight tremble in his voice, "you 
put that ring on last night? You're a LOT scary when you're under 
the influence of that thing!"

      "C'mon, Pete!" Clark pleaded, "I always feel so good 
afterwards...and you know it's not in my nature to hurt 
anybody...especially my best friend...you know you'd be safe, right? 
Just come and keep an eye on me and let me know what happens, okay?"

      Pete looked up into Clark's smiling face and broke into a 
wide grin. He was used to keeping Clark's mind-boggling secret of 
being a super-alien...What's one more secret? "Sure, why not? I'd 
like to see you let loose a bit, anyway. Just get me back home 
before 3 in the morning, okay?"

      "Great!" Clark beamed as he pulled the ring out of his 
pocket and slipped it on his finger. His body tensed as the effects 
took hold...his muscles bulged under the oversized sweats, 
stretching them to the fabric's limits, then his eyes glowed red for 
a few seconds as he sucked in a deep breath and growled a 
guttural, "I'm baa-aack!" while grinning an evil grin down to Pete.

      Pete stood transfixed as Clark put the ring on. He gasped as 
he saw Clark's already massive frame swell beneath his (previously) 
loose fitting clothing. "How could he possibly get any bigger?" he 
wondered silently. Pete had always admired Clark, even envied his 
rugged good looks, massive musculature and super strength, but as 
Clark sneered down at him with his impossibly improved physique 
hiding beneath his now taught clothing, something stirred deep in 
Pete's gut...He couldn't tell if it was fear or something else, but, 
whatever it was, he now couldn't wait to see what his super friend 
had in store.

      Clark stated flatly, "Let's go, Pete." as he placed his 
large, powerful hands beneath Pete's armpits, lifted him and began 
running at blinding speed. Clark blew out of his mouth slightly to 
create a shield to protect Pete from the wind through which he sped 
like a lightening bolt. (At the speed he ran, the wind would have 
hit Pete like a granite wall and crushed his flesh and bones into 
liquid against Clark's rippling chest in a fraction of a second.)

      In the blink of an eye, Pete found himself being set down in 
front of "Blue Boy's Muscle Emporium"...looked like a lounge on the 
outskirts of some small town...no other buildings around for 
miles. "Where are we, Clark?" Pete asked as Clark began to walk 
towards the entrance the lounge.

      "Not sure, Pete. You wanna drink?"

      "Well, we're a little young and, even at your size, I think 
they'll probably card us, don't ya think?"

      "Hmmm...Maybe! Let's give it a try!" Clark stated with a 
grin on his face and a twinkle in his deep green eyes.

      Clark and Pete walked in and saddled up to the bar. Behind 
them was a stage with muscle-bound hunks dancing to an all male 
audience...Maybe four performers and twenty or so patrons, the 
bartender and two muscled waiters with no shirts on.

      Pete looked around and stared up at Clark, starting to ask a 
question...Clark cut him off with a wide grin, "Not to worry, 
Pete...We're just here to relax...I'm not goin' gay on you...Just 
figured we could get served here easily, if ya know what I mean!" 
With that, Clark said to the bartender, "Hey, could we get a pitcher 
of beer over here?"

      The bartender came over and looked both the teens over. "I 
don't know, boys...You look a bit young to be drinking...You got ID?"

      Clark grinned, winked at Pete and said, "Yeah, I think 
so...Let me pull my sweatshirt off and see if it's in my shirt 
pocket."

      With that, Clark began to peel the stretching and straining 
fabric from his massive torso. He crossed his hands at the base of 
the shirt, by his abs, his gargantuan biceps and triceps bulging, 
and began to lift the fabric up to his chest. His abdominals came 
into view...large, solid blocks of grinding muscle...as he reached 
the base of the overhang of his cliffs of pectoral beef, the massive 
wings of his lat's spilled into view, rippling with sinew. He 
stopped there and eyed the bartender who stood with his mouth 
hanging open (much like Pete's, at this point!).

      "Oh, this is taking too long!" Clark stated as he reached 
into the collar of the sweatshirt and just tore it from his rippling 
torso as if it were tissue paper. Rope-thick veins pulsed and danced 
across every muscular surface of his exposed torso. The full, round 
pectorals bounced up and down alternately, fingers of thick, solid 
muscle dancing across their expanse, defying the gravity that should 
have held them still. The deep cleavage between the masses of pec-
beef appeared and disappeared as the flexing orbs crushed together 
with each move of the massive teen crushing the deep space between 
them into nothingness. "Oops! Guess I don't have a shirt on under 
this! Sorry!"

      The bartender's eyes bulged out of their sockets and his 
shorts began to tent visibly. Clark leaned forward, his mammoth pecs 
stretching across the bar and his large tits coming to rest on the 
other side of the countertop. He wrapped his massive paw around a 
glass ashtray, flexed his oaken arm,  the ashtray disintegrated 
within his powerful grasp, sifting like sand through his powerful 
fingers onto the bar. "Think we're old enough, mister?" Clark 
sneered and, again asked calmly, "Could we get a pitcher of beer 
over here?"

      "C-C-C-Clark!" Pete stammered. In all the years he had known 
Clark, he had never seen him without even a t-shirt on. He gaped at 
his massively and magnificently muscled friend. His mouth went dry 
and he felt that flutter in his stomach again.

      "Watch the bartender, Pete." Clark said as he slowly lifted 
both his arms into a mind-blowing, double biceps pose, causing the 
massive split head of his biceps to peak up to his clenched fist, 
his monstrous triceps hanging like rippling, trapped hams from 
beneath the oaken arms, then he extended his fingers down and 
messaged the rope sized vein running across the tops of the mounds 
of biceps muscle rippling atop.

      The bartender looked up, grabbed his tented crotch and fell 
to the floor, bucking his hips, as a large wet spot appeared at the 
tip of his tented shorts and spread.

      "DAMN, Clark! I knew you were the strongest guy on the 
planet, but I had no idea the MUSCLE you had!" Clark just smiled as 
he turned, stood and, once again, used his heat-vision to seal the 
doors and windows to the club. Then he began to saunter towards the 
stage. One by one eyes turned towards the muscle god walking up 
front.

      "CLARK!" Pete shouted, "What are you doing?" He glanced 
behind the counter and saw that the bartender had passed out on the 
floor, but his hips kept gyrating spasmotically.

      "Just watch, Pete," Clark boomed, "These puny humans can't 
control themselves around me. They're like putty in my hands." he 
grinned demonically. Pete shuttered as Clark took the stage, faced 
the patrons and placed his hands on his hips, flexing a mind-blowing 
most-muscular pose that set the building into a frenzy. He then 
began to flex his ass and dick. Pete saw the taught material down 
the left side of Clark's sweats swell and lift. Then he heard a tear 
as Clark's cock-head ripped through the fabric down by his knee and 
began to shred the fabric as the massive, blue vein wrapped organ 
lifted majestically, stringing pre-cum to the stage floor as it 
rose. Clark slipped a thumb in each side of his sweats and ripped 
them cleanly from his body as his fuck pole slapped up into his 
rippling chest. His tree trunk quads shoved is grapefruit sized 
testicles forward.

      Pete pissed on himself, even as he felt his cock twitch. He 
had never imagined Clark as being so huge, so perfect, so sexual, so 
sensual. His breathing got rapid and he started to sweat profusely. 
He did know how powerful Clark was...what did he mean, "...They're 
like putty in my hands." Pete shuttered and ran towards the stage 
where Clark stood flexing.  "Clark, let's go! We'll grab some 
clothes and leave now, okay?"

      "Oh, I think not, Pete." Clark growled. "I get to have some 
fun with these little insects, now!"

      Pete watched, in horror (mixed with awe and respect), as 
Clark grabbed two of the muscular little performers, palming their 
heads like small basketballs and effortlessly lifting them from the 
floor. His muscles bulged and danced as he slowly brought their 
skulls together, at his arm's length,  between his powerful palms. 
Their muscular little legs kicked at him, making glancing blows 
against his steel hard rod, stimulating more pre-cum to spurt from 
it's pulsing crown. Their eyes plead for mercy, Clark grinned and 
watched eagerly as the puny little skulls distended until the 
pleading little eyes popped out of their sockets. Slowly his massive 
chest ballooned and rippled as his arms grew and solidified, 
continuing to compress the two little muscle men into one. There was 
a loud CRACK and squish as the two doomed little dancer's heads 
merged into one squished and dripping mass as Clark effortlessly 
brought his hands together. Their pathetic little bodies twitched as 
Clark bellowed, "Oh, FUCK, yeah! Who's next, you little size 
queens?" and dropped the two headless bodies to the floor, flopping 
around his feet. He looked Pete in the, grinned and winked. "You 
like that, Bro?"

      Pete felt sick, but his ample dick began to pulse with 
blood. The power that Clark had...he could never have imagined it 
being used in such an uncaring, beastly way. He looked at Clark's 
massive rippling body...Clark continued looking him in the eye, 
grinning from ear to ear. He lifted one bloody hand to his lips and 
licked the fingers clean. He lowered the other bloody fist and began 
stroking his massive, pulsing shaft. Keeping his eyes fixed on 
Pete's eyes.

      Some patrons were screaming, running to the doors and 
windows, finding everything welded shut... no way out, while others 
stood transfixed, pulling out their cocks and stroking at the sight 
of this callous, uncaring teen muscle god.

      Pete shuffled up to the stage, looking into the eyes of the 
all-powerful muscle being before him. "Clark...oh, FUCK, man...I 
couldn't tell what I was feeling, but now...now I think I know...I 
love you, man...I love who and what you are...I love what you can 
do...I love how powerful you are...Show me what you can do, you all-
powerful muscle-beast, you!"

      "Fuckin' A, Pete! I KNEW you'd be into this...into 
power...into ME! Pick someone for me, Pete...What should I do next 
with these pathetic little creatures, man?"