"Currently, you stand at ten feet three inches tall and weigh 1832 pounds."
Beast's ears flicked and his eyes widened. That...couldn't be possible. In the span of a few short hours, he had grown four feet and gained nearly half a ton of muscle! Where was all of that mass coming from? Why wasn't his circulatory system shutting down under the strain of supporting so much additional bulk? Why hadn't he experienced any growing pains or other side effects of too-rapid growth -- stretch marks, lost fur, inflexibility? It didn't make any sense. What's worse is that it meant he was still getting larger and stronger, and there was no telling when his transformation would be finished with him.
"Oh my stars and garters... I...think I need to sit down. Betsy, please use the Colossus configuration."
Hank put one monstrous paw to his head while the lab changed around him. He could feel the way his biceps crowded the space between his shoulder and forearm. His back as broad as a wall and twice as thick; every movement sent muscle rippling along his hide.
Meanwhile, his work space changed from the comfortable and cluttered, slightly disorganized study he was used to. His papers were put away and filed into storage. Delicate scientific instruments were hidden away and replaced with more spartan and hardy equipment. Every surface, from table to chair to shelves, were reinforced and broadened to handle the incredible strength of Piotr Rasputin. Now, it would have to deal with him. He was over three times heavier than Pete and who knows how much stronger now, but he had to believe it would hold. It worked for the Juggernaut when he was on the team, and it would have to do for him.
After a few minutes, the lab looked completely different. It was outfitted with several heavy duty medical stations, adamantium-tipped needles and beakers that could withstand any hazardous or radioactive material. Now, it was just large enough for him to move comfortably -- but who knows how long that would last. Betsy chirped when the transformation was done. "Ready for Colossus now, Dr. McCoy."
He growled his satisfaction and nodded. "Very good, Betsy. When do you think you'll be done with those diagnostics, by the way?"
There was a moment of silence before the computer responded. "The results of the analysis are proving difficult to pin down, Dr. McCoy. The samples you've provided are mutating too quickly to get a stable reading. However, I can provide you with the most accurate information I was able to gather ten minutes ago."
Beast stepped down from the weight platform. It felt odd still, one leg practically rolling around the other to propel him forward. His foot -- shaped like a cross between a bear's and a lion's -- made the ground thump notably underneath it. His toes splayed wide to hold his weight. His claws even felt strong. "That might be for the best, Betsy. Give me the readings."
The computer chirped again and displayed what it knew. The findings, to say the least, were incredible. It would appear that his own cells were mutating into multi-dimensional organisms, winking out of existence and coming back...changed. What's more, every time the cell returned from wherever it went, it quickly replicated. Then it mutated again, winked out of existence, and came back to do the whole thing over again. Beast even noticed signatures that could only have come from Pym particles, the very thing that made Giant-Man attain his fantastic size. Could it be that his body had become a factory for these wondrous sub-atomic particles?
While this was an incredible discovery on its own, Hank had to consider a troubling question that might have an even more disturbing answer. When would the cells begin to stabilize? There had to be some point where they would start to lose steam and settle into a final form. At least, that's what everything told him as a man of science.
Only they weren't doing that. If anything, his own cells had become seemingly tireless machines of evolution, "improving" his body and adding to his considerable mass. At this point, Beast would venture a guess that he'd be immune to most injury, had developed a healing factor that might not be quite Wolverine-fast but certainly nothing to sneeze at, and his musculature was dense enough to make him even stronger than his overwhelming size would indicate. He was effectively one of the "big boys" now -- a Hulk, a Thor, a nearly god-like powerhouse -- and he was still getting bigger and stronger.
He had to say, he liked the sound of that. But if he didn't find a way to stop his mutation soon, he might end up being too big, too musclebound, or too powerful to keep himself in Wolverine's School. He had already nearly outgrown his lab -- if this kept up for much longer, he might end up hurting someone or causing irrevocable damage to the school.
Hank wasn't too proud to admit that it might be time to bring in other minds on this. Perhaps a call to Henry Pym wouldn't be out of the question. Or perhaps Reed Richards -- the vast young minds of the Future Foundation might appreciate a good biological puzzle to put together. Still, he was Dr. Henry McCoy, the man who cured the Legacy Virus. He was no slouch in the biology department himself, and he was surely smart enough to get himself out of a problem of his own making.
Beast looked over the readouts one more time and rolled his mountainous shoulders. What would be the best thing to do?
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