She-Hulk: Memories of My First Transformation
By Jennifer Walters
via DeviantArt(.)com/orange1984blue
I lay in that sterile hospital bed, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry bees. The room smelled of antiseptic and stale air, and my body felt weak, confined by the thin sheets and the IV drip tugging at my arm. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, my mind foggy from whatever medications they had me on. It was late, the hospital quiet except for the occasional muffled footsteps in the hall. I didn’t know what time it was, but sleep wouldn’t come fully, leaving me in that hazy limbo.
Then, the door creaked open slowly, not with the confident swing of a nurse or doctor, but with a stealthy whisper. Three shadows slipped inside—men, bulky and dressed in dark clothes, their faces obscured by ski masks. They moved like predators, one clutching a knife that glinted under the dim light, another holding a silenced pistol, and the third cracking his knuckles with a grin I could sense even through the mask. They were here to finish something, to end me. Panic surged through my veins, hot and electric, mixing with a rising fury that boiled from deep within.
“Who the hell are you?” I managed to croak, my voice weak but defiant. They didn’t answer. The one with the knife lunged first, aiming for my throat. That’s when it hit me—a wave of rage so intense it felt like my blood was on fire. My heart hammered, vision blurring at the edges, and suddenly, my body rebelled against its frailty. Muscles I never knew existed began to swell, expanding with a force that tore through the hospital gown like it was made of paper. I felt my arms thickening, biceps inflating into massive, veined spheres that throbbed with power. Oh, the sensation was exquisite, a rush of ecstasy as my triceps hardened into slabs of steel, my forearms rippling with cords of muscle that could bend iron.
My chest broadened, pecs pushing out like armored plates, and my back widened into a V-shape that made me feel unbreakable. Legs followed suit, thighs ballooning into tree-trunk pillars, quads etching deep separations, hamstrings coiling like springs ready to unleash. And my height—I shot up, my frame stretching to tower over the bed, nearly seven feet of emerald-skinned glory. The world tilted as I grew, the ceiling seeming closer, the thugs suddenly looking like puny insects. I loved it, every inch of this transformation. The strength flooding me was intoxicating, a heady brew that made my skin tingle and my core tighten with delight.
With a growl that rumbled from my newly deepened throat—my voice now a sultry, resonant timbre that sent shivers down my own spine—I flipped the bed over in one effortless motion. It crashed against the wall, monitors sparking and beeping wildly as they hit the floor. The thugs froze for a split second, eyes wide behind their masks. “What the—?” one stammered, but I was already on them.
I grabbed the knife-wielder by his collar, my fingers like vices around the fabric. “You picked the wrong night, boys,” I purred, my voice dripping with a sexy confidence that matched my new form. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed him across the room. He sailed through the air, slamming into the far wall with a thud that cracked the plaster, his body crumpling but still breathing. The power in that throw—it was euphoric. I could feel every muscle in my arm contracting and releasing, the sheer might making me gasp in pleasure.
The second thug, the one with the pistol, fired wildly, but the bullets bounced off my jade skin like raindrops. I laughed, a deep, throaty sound that echoed off the walls, sexy and commanding. “Is that all you’ve got?” I taunted, striding forward on legs that could crush concrete. I snatched him up by the arm, my bicep bulging impressively as I lifted him off the ground. Look at this, I thought, marveling at the peak of my muscle, the way it flexed into a perfect, veined mound. I hurled him toward the window, where he bounced off the frame and skidded across the floor, groaning but alive.
The third one tried to bolt for the door, but I was faster, my heightened senses making everything crystal clear. I caught him by the back of his jacket, spinning him around to face me. “Not so fast,” I murmured, my voice a velvet growl that made even me weak in the knees. I picked him up with both hands, my shoulders rolling with power, traps rising like mountains. Then, with a heave that sent a thrill racing through my body, I launched him upward. He hit the ceiling so hard it cracked, tiles raining down as he plummeted back to the floor in a heap. He survived—barely moving, but his chest rose and fell. The impact reverberated through me, amplifying the joy of my strength.
I stopped then, standing amid the wreckage, the three men sprawled and dazed around me. My breath came in heavy pants, not from exhaustion but from the overwhelming bliss of this body. I posed for them, flexing my arms in a double bicep pose that made my peaks rise even higher, the muscles swelling to impossible sizes. “Look at me,” I commanded, my deeper voice laced with seduction. “See what you’ve unleashed?” I ran my hands over my abs, feeling the eight-pack ripple under my fingers, each ridge a testament to my dominance. The sensation was electric, building inside me like a storm.
I turned to the side, hitting a side chest pose, my pecs thrusting forward, lats flaring out like wings. The height made me feel like a goddess, towering over these fools, my legs planted wide, calves diamond-hard and veined. Strength pulsed through every fiber— I could lift a truck, smash through walls, and it felt so good, so right. I flexed my quads, watching them explode with definition, the teardrop shape above my knee making me moan softly. It was almost too much.
One of the thugs stirred, trying to crawl away, but I stepped forward, my footfalls shaking the room. “Stay down,” I purred, striking a most muscular pose that made every muscle pop—traps, delts, biceps, all bulging in symphony. The sight in the shattered mirror across the room was mesmerizing: me, She-Hulk, savage and sensual, luxuriating in my form. I traced my fingers along my biceps, feeling the warmth and hardness, the vein pulsing like a river of power. It was addictive, this love for my body; I could have stayed there forever, showing off, reveling in the adoration of my own strength.
But alarms were blaring now, footsteps pounding in the hall. Time to go. I burst through the door, splintering the wood with my shoulder, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through me. Nurses and orderlies scattered as I thundered down the hallway, my height making me duck slightly under doorframes, my muscles propelling me with effortless speed. “Out of my way!” I bellowed, my voice a sexy thunder that cleared the path.
I reached the elevator, but the doors were closed, the car floors away. No time to wait. I dug my fingers into the seam, my biceps and forearms exploding with effort as I pried them apart. Metal groaned and bent under my grip, the doors parting like butter. The shaft yawned below, cables humming. With a grin, I leaped in, grabbing a cable mid-fall, my strength holding me easily as I slid down into the darkness, free and alive.
The hospital shrank above me as I descended, my mind racing with the thrill of escape. I landed in the basement with a soft thud, the impact absorbed by my powerful legs. Bursting through an emergency exit, I vanished into the night, my towering form melting into the shadows. That transformation, those moments of savage delight—they changed everything. I was no longer just Jennifer; I was She-Hulk, and I craved more of this glorious power.
More to come about this, of course.
