Incredible Hulk Hands Novels & Stories

His imposing manner became more intense instantly. “You’re asking to die!” Huck could not hold himself back. He yelled loudly and charged forward. His hands were clenched into fists as he swung them toward Rick! Huck was strong. He did not gain his huge muscles from consuming protein shakes but got them from real battles! He was almost 180cm and the veins on his arms were protruding. It was as if he could take someone’s life with just one single punch. His clenched fist was like a roaring tiger and his aggressiveness was through the roof. His fist was as big as a bowl as it aimed directly at Rick’s head.

It took him a while to comprehend the scene in front of him. Rex was fine, but the crazak that attacked him was on its back just to his side with 3 massive gashes across its chest. How did that happen? He thought, looking at his hands. One of his hands did not resemble his at all! Turning the new hand around he noticed that he now had 3 fingers and his thumb all had very large sharp claw-like fingernails, and his whole hand and up to his forearm was now covered in glossy black scales. This is insane he said to himself, how did he do that? 'If you find that impressive, wait until you see what you can do when we learn to be as one' said the deep voice again.

​Lucas sensed that Iron Hand possessed formidable strength. The man was nothing like the previous three thugs, who were mere street brawlers without proper martial arts training. ​Iron Hand indeed boasted impressive abilities. His arm strength was absolutely monstrous; he could crush solid concrete with his bare hands. ​"You killed two of my men earlier, and now, you've reduced Leo to this. You are incredibly bold. That means you are indirectly challenging me, Iron Hand!" he growled, his voice trembling with absolute fury.

"Then I'll send them straight to your homes." One of them was the child beggar from the viral video. The other was the Molotov attacker whom Black Garuda had captured. Arka grabbed one of the boys by the hand and forced the camera to focus on his palm. Thick calluses covered the base of his thumb and his knuckles. "Does this... look like the hand of a small child?" The impact was immediate. The comments began to change. "Calluses like that...?" "I'm a former soldier. Those are the hands of someone who's handled weapons."

Thick veins ran along the backs of his hands and coiled around his forearms, rising beneath the skin every time he flexed his fingers. Black ink disappeared beneath his shirt cuff, climbed over his wrist, and wrapped around his forearm in intricate patterns I couldn't fully make out. His hands were enormous. Long fingers. Scarred knuckles. A thin white line cut across one of them, and another crossed the back of his hand. Those were hands that had broken bones. Maybe necks. Judging by the way he sounded earlier, mine would probably be next. His hands rested casually inside his pockets, yet somehow they looked more dangerous than the knife I was hiding beneath Alessandro's own oversized shirt

The ice cold hand gently tore off her shirt and revealed her snowy white shoulders. During the struggle, Hilda had used all of her strength as her nails sunk deep into his wrist. She then realized that he wore a special one piece suit that covered his whole body from head to toe. There was also a rubbery material covering his fingers, which prevented him from leaving any fingerprints behind. Her fingers powerlessly scratched his suit, but they couldn't even leave a mark. The man behind her was like a cold machine with an infinite strength, save for a human's warmth. It reminded her of a bone chilling and terrifying person.

But he didn't slap me nor burn me; he waved his other hand to his other four men not to interfere. I was thinking he was going to kill me, as I ensured to slice his hand off completely away from his arm, but to my shock, he picked up his right hand that had fallen to the ground, from his elbow length, and he fixed it back into his arm, and it magically healed.

I was pissed and could feel the rage building inside of me. Before he could turn around, I grab his hand twisting it until it snaps off. He screams in agony, as he looks at his arm missing his hand. I am in shock as I see his hand in mine; I did not know where that rage came from. I toss his hand aside but am more shocked to see him regrow a hand at the end of his arm. How was that even possible?!?

Several bottles of liquor littered the floor. Christopher himself was standing before a huge canvas that had an incomplete drawing on it. His white singlet was soiled with paint and sweat and he held the brush tentatively. When he heard the door open, he turned sharply. I thought he was about to yell at me, but he didn’t. he just paused, staring at me as if I was a mystery.

A ѕlоw rеtrеаt of hіѕ fingers was fоllоwеd by аnоthеr рuѕh in tіll his thumb ѕtорреd it аgаіn; then аgаіn аѕ hе began a ѕlоw, аnd rhуthmіс, fuсkіng of mу asshole with hіѕ hаnd. I соuldn't gеt enough оf thе picture оf him ѕlіdіng hіѕ hаnd in аnd оut оf mе аnd wаtсhеd іntеntlу еасh tіmе mу hole еxраndеd around his hаnd, but I dіd fаіl to notice thаt on аbоut the tеnth stroke inward his thumb wаѕ nо lоngеr еxtеndеd but folded іntо hіѕ palm. As hе rеасhеd the point whеrе hе hаd bееn ѕtорріng, hе gаvе an a little harder рuѕh and I watched, аnd felt, hіѕ entire hаnd ѕlір іnѕіdе mу аѕѕ!