Prisoner

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

I was thirteen when I first got injected with ichor.

I was stuck at five foot two, skinny as fuck, weaker than a rotten potato, and angry at the world for it. I still picked fights with people twice my size, and occasionally I got my ass beat. Once I hit thirteen, people stopped going easy on me because I was so small. When I lashed out, I got my ass beat hard. By thirteen, I'd lost all my baby teeth from fist fights, broken my arm three times, and received a couple skull fractures. It would've been a lot worse if I wasn't so goddamn persistent.

But the Mother was tired of it. She was tired of watching me get my ass whooped and tired of waiting for me to become the male I was supposed to be.

So I was called into the research wing. I'd never been there. It was the same as the rest of the compound, though. Sterile, cold, white as fuck. Two guardians walked me down a long narrow hallway and led me to a little room with a couple of plush chairs and a desk. I was shoved into the seat and left alone for what felt like a whole fucking hour before a female in a white coat came in and did her little song and dance about the ichor.

I didn't give a shit.

As soon as I heard, you will be strong, I didn't let the bitch finish her spiel. I was on my feet and demanding the ichor. She smiled at me, like she fucking knew I was going to leap at the chance.

The next day, I got my first injection.

It was the fucking worst when it started out. The headaches were excruciating. It felt like Thor was hammering away in my skull. Next came the body aches. Everything hurt. My muscles were growing, my bones were growing, everything was growing and it hurt.

The next week was a fucking nightmare. Headaches, body aches, and my anger seemed to only grow. It wasn't working fast enough. Nothing was happening. All I felt was absolute agony. The tiniest things started to drive me up the fucking walls. If some kid started tapping his pencil in class, I was on that fucker like white on rice, bashing his head into the desk until the guardian had to pull me off. If someone bumped into me in the hallway, I'd whip around and kick them in the backs of their knees. Someone happen to breathe in my general direction on the wrong day? Ohh, it was all fucking over for them.

I didn't mind the extra rage. It felt good. It felt warm. Like a fire brewing inside, waiting to explode, a volcano ready for eruption. It became my good mood, to be angry, to feel fire.

And then things started to change.

I wasn't small anymore. I was growing faster than the other kids in my class. And not just in height, but in weight. I wasn't skinny anymore. My muscles were growing and I needed to stimulate them to grow more, so I started working out more. I was in the gym for hours upon hours, lifting weights, doing sprints, breaking equipment because it just couldn't fucking handle what I was becoming.

I was becoming invincible. My fights with the other soldiers became victories. People started avoiding me in the hallways, cutting paths around me, or picking me last for activities, because no one wanted to be near me. They were terrified and I fucking bathed in that. No one fucked with me anymore.

I was powerful. I was mighty. I was what I'd always wanted to be.

I was strong.

Oh sure, the headaches continued. Some days I couldn't get out of bed and stayed under the covers with the pillow over my head, wishing my head would just explode. And, not everything grew with me, much to my chagrin, but did it fucking matter?

I was strong. I was powerful.

That was the only thing that mattered.

And now it was gone.