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  1. Ok so I've only ever posted like one other story here before so I'm too experienced at this. Lol I'm currently vacationing in Fort Morgan, AL and this little idea just kind of popped into my head yesterday so I'm just gonna see how it goes so I hope you guys enjoy! If I do end up doing multiple parts I will just post them all in this thread...(constructive criticism appreciated ) A Strange Occurrence at Fort Morgan Part I It had been a long and stressful senior year, but my buddies and I finally survived college and graduated this past May. In celebration, the three of us decided to rent a house down in Fort Morgan, AL for a week and just relax. There were only two rooms so two of us had to share a bed while the other got a bed to themselves. This decision was obviously made with a classic round of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Ben ended up winning so he moved his stuff to his room, while Cresley and I moved our stuff to our room. The bed was a king-sized bed so there was still plenty of room for both of us to be comfortable. The company that owned these houses supplied us with a golf cart for us to take down to the beach so as soon as we unloaded our things, we changed into swim clothes and hopped into the cart and headed down to the beach. We got to the beach and found our spot and took off our shirts to get into the water. I'm usually kind of self-counsious about taking my shirt off, especially in a public place. I've always been known as the "tall skinny guy" growing up and even in college, but those four years were full of bad eating habits and broken promises of getting into a steady gym routine. Needless to say, I am not quite the "stick" that I used to be. I am not fat by any means. I just have a little extra weight that gives me kind of a funny shape. Cresley and Ben are my best friends, though, so I know that they aren't going to judge me and I could care less at this point about everyone else on the beach. Cresley has always been one of those guys that you can see by his body type that he has so much potential to look good if he would just go to the gym on a regular basis, but he doesn't. He has a fairly average body type, about 6'1, 160lbs with a thin layer of flab. Ben is the most muscular out of the three of us. He's not huge or even ripped by any means, but he is the most committed to the gym of the three of us and it shows. He's just a little thicker than both of us and he has some muscle to show for it at 5'9 and 180lbs. We quickly ran into the water and dove right into the crisp, cool ocean water. After the initial shock of the chilly water on our bodies, we noticed that the waves were minimal, which was disappointing. My favorite part of going to the beach is the adrenaline rush of hopping huge waves or trying to catch a good wave with a boogie board. The water was very clear, due to the lack of waves. We could see all sorts of fish, sand dollars, and crabs scurrying around our feet. I was busy trying to catch a crab when I heard Cresley yelp in pain. I immediately looked up and saw a very unique-looking fish swim away. It was probably a foot long. I had never seen anything like it. Cresley seemed fine, but he was looking at his ankle. All I saw was a spot of blood on his ankle. "What happened?", I asked. "I was just looking at the sand dollars in the water and I took a step back and felt a sting on my ankle. It felt like there was some sort of worm on my leg, but when I looked down I just saw this crazy ass fish swimming away and this small hole in my foot. I guess I accidentally stepped on the thing and he freaked and bit me!", said Cresley. We probably stayed in the water for a couple more minutes before just calling it quits and going back to the house. The water just wasn't doing anything and Cresley was acting a little strangely after his encounter with the weird fish. We got back to the house and cleaned off his cut and put a band aid on it. We settled in for the night and made a few snacks to eat while watching a movie. I kept kind of glancing at Cresley during the movie because he was acting a little funny. He seemed to be sweating quite a bit and he was totally pigging out on the snacks. He didn't seem to be paying attention to the movie at all. The movie ended and we all turned in for the night. As we got into the bed, I asked Cresley if he was feeling alright. "Yeah man. I feel fine! It's just so hot in this house right now and I'm absolutely starving!" "Oh. Ok then. We don't need you to be playing Mr. Tough Guy and playing off this fish bite if you aren't feeling good. The last thing we need is to spend the rest of the week at a hospital." "Nah dude I'm fine. I'll feel better in the morning." With that, I turned off the lights and we went to bed. I crashed and slept straight through the night. I woke up the next morning to Cresley right next to me. I was really annoyed because I knew how big this bed was. We almost had enough room for a third person to sleep in between us. I tried to push him back over but he didn't budge. He felt really thick too, which was really weird. I nudged him and tried to wake him up and he just grunted, but it didn't sound like him. This grunt was a lot deeper. I freaked, thinking someone else was in the bed with me. I flipped on the lights and whipped the covers back. What I saw cannot be logically explained. Cresley was....well. He was enormous. It definitely explained why he was almost on top of me on my side of the bed. He now took up over half of the bed with his massive body. He usually just slept in a pair of comfortable stretchy gym shorts and no shirt, which was a good decision on this particular night. Somehow in the night, Cresley had grown into a muscle-bound behemoth. He had most likely surpassed Jay Cutler in size. His neck was thick and bulging, which explained for the deeper grunt. His already handsome face was even more chiseled and masculine with a thick beard to accommodate the bull sized neck. His traps practically swallowed his neck leading down to a set of shoulders that were the size of bowling balls. And his arms. Sweet Jesus his arms were huge. They had to be at least 23 inches around. His forearms were just as impressive and covered with a thick layer of dark hair and thick, bulging veins. His pectoral muscles were just as unbelievable. They were like two big watermelon halves just jutting straight in the air covered in dark hair. His back was so unbelievably broad and tapered down to practically the same size waist that he had before his freaky transformation. His abdominal muscles were thick like cobblestones with a trail of hair heading down to his goods. His shorts were clinging to his body for dear life. His quads were the size of tree trunks, so thick and sinewy with muscle. His calves had to be bigger than my head. I could see the outline of his huge member trailing down one side of his shorts. How his shorts managed to not bust at the seams between his quads and his enormous cock and balls baffled me. He was laying on his back but I could tell by the way that he was laying, that his butt had to be just as glorious as the rest of his bulging body. I just stared, mouth agape, taking in the sight. I nudged Cresley again trying to awaken him and he stirred. "What the hell man!?", I screamed. "What the fuck are you talking about dude? Whoa what the hell is wrong with my voice?" "Try looking in the mirror, Mr. Incredible." Cresley struggled to get out of bed, due to his new size and he immediately started to notice that things were obviously different. He noticed his big, meaty hands that led up to his thickly corded muscular forearms and just stared in wonder. He noticed how his chin was now able to rest on his enormous chest for some reason and how he could barely see past those enormous pecs to see that his shorts were painted onto his thunderous quads. He snapped out of it and continued to struggle to get up, adjusting to all of his new weight. Once he stood up, I finally saw his ass. That beautiful, glorious ass. It jutted straight out, defying gravity stretching the fabric of those poor, poor shorts just about to their breaking point. He waddled over to the full length mirror, attempting to get used to his thicker legs. When he reached the mirror, he just stared, mouth agape. "Holy shit man! Look at me! I'm fuckin' huge! I feel like the strongest person in the world right now! This is fucking incredible bro! Everything just feels so tight! My skin feels paper thin!" His arms jutted out at forty five degree angles because of the thickness of his lats. He flexed his triceps and they exploded with power. By now, my cock was hard as a rock, staring at this behemoth that was my best pal, Cresley. I never really considered Cresley as anything more than a brother to me, although I always thought he was a great looking guy. Now it took every ounce of restraint to keep me from just jumping onto him right now and just worshipping every inch of him. He started flexing different muscle groups and I was losing myself in all of his glorious musculature. It was when he did a most muscular pose that I lost it. I think I orgasmed harder than I ever have in my shorts that morning. His muscles just exploded with size and power and I lost it. Luckily, he didn't even notice me. I mean why would he even pay attention to me when he has the body that he has now? He spent at least the next fifteen minutes just exploring his new body. "I can't wait for Ben to see this." To be continued...?
  2. The Prelude is found HERE The preceding chapter is found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Fifteen ”Did you know, that Northern Ireland has two Governor-Generals since the Maundy Thursday Agreement?”, Max asked Jim. Max was watching a documentary about history, and Jim was cooking. ”I’ve never understood if Northern Ireland is a part of UK or a part of Ireland.”, Jim answered. ”Neither. In reality it’s totally independent and sovereign, they say here, but the Maundy Thursday Agreement introduced The Andorra Solution, and there is still a legal fiction in place, keeping a notional tie to the UK, balanced with a few words about 'located in the north of the island of Ireland, the history of which it is a part'. Some of their politicians use the expression Canada plus plus” ”What’s The Andorra Solution?”, Jim shouted over the sound of chicken frying in a pan. ”It means, that Northern Ireland has two citizens who ’take precedence over all other persons in the State’: One of them, the King of Northern Ireland, coincide with the Monarch of the UK under another name, and the other one, the President of Northern Ireland, coincide with the President of Ireland under another name. None of the ’citizens who take precedence’ ever put their feet on Northern Irish soil, but appoints one Governor-General each instead.” ”What’s a Governor-General? Is that like a President? Oh, wait! Doesn’t Canada have a Governor-General?”, Jim shouted back. The scent of chicken began to spread through the flat. ”Not like the sort of President we have here in Cascadia. My impression from this documentary is, that Governor-Generals are mainly involved in cutting ribbons, and they say here, that they are not allowed to have any political opinions at all. All the cabinet-work is done by two Prime Ministers.” ”Two?” ”Yes, one of them from the one of the unionist parties which got the highest number of votes, which seem to be the Alliance Party these days, and the other one from the one of the republican parties which got the highest number of votes, but the documentary hasn’t got to the last decade yet, so I’m not sure which one that is.” ”Sounds complicated.” ”From what they say in this documentary, it’s a country with a very complicated history. Come here, Jim. Since I got those mind-implants I feel so incredibly dumb. Watch this, so you can explain it to me later! What the hell is a Dail?” Jim joined Max in the sofa. There were two history professors chuckling on the screen: "Stormont is obliged to have seven different flags on show outside, because the inhabitants weren't able to decide which one to chose. In order, to not offend anyone, they fly all seven 365 days a year. * * * Alpha titan. His mind felt weird. Weird but good. Rob and Nate had showered together after the 'hancing process, and had heard the faint noises of Bill cleaning the jacuzzi for next customer from the treatment room nearby. Bill had taken their new improved measures, and sent them to the waiting tailor, but then, Rob and Nate had been separated because of the theme party later in the night. They had grumblingly accepted to be separated, and Rob was now waiting in an adjacent room, only wearing a terrycloth bath robe and sipping mineral water and a protein shake. He felt strange. Dizzy. Weird but good. Bill had explained to them before the rejuvenation, that their hormone levels would return to the levels of their late teens, but Rob had never felt like he did right now. He clenched his fist and flexed his biceps. Stronger. Stronger than ever. This must be the hormone levels he would’ve had, if he had ’hanced in his teens. He had never felt like this before. It felt … The tailors had been prepared for the incoming order within the facility. Bill brought him a parcel wrapped in brown recycled paper. It was meant to be a surprise. Rob had put an X in the form deciding Nate’s clothes for the theme party, and Nate had decided what Rob had to wear, none of them supposed to tell the other beforehand. They had kept their promises. Let’s see what Nate wanted Rob to wear. He unwrapped the parcel. The rascal must be kidding. Mixed feelings welled up inside himself. Oh Nate … The sweetest man. The toughest man. Nate’s sense of humour … The iconic jacket gave it away. The large amount of surplus army blankets in the end of the Space War had caused the Armed Forces to use the blankets to produce bomber jackets out of blanket fabric, and the veterans had continued to use them after discharge, which in course … The Bad Boys. The particular style of jacket had become popular among younger brothers and neighbours of veterans in rough areas, and become a part of Bad Boy wardrobe that way. It was affordable. It was efficient. It was tough looking. All the things Bad Boys were aiming for. Well, the jacket had to wait. Each piece of clothing in order... Jockstraps had been more in Nate’s taste, than in Rob’s, but he dutifully put the jockstrap from the parcel on. There was a collar, two ribbed bands and a spray can. He sighed, conflicted, and asked Bill for assistance. Bill helped him put the spray-on polo on, and it looked – eh, sprayed on – which was flattering. Polo fabric clung to the two hemispheres of his beefy pec shelf, and snugly hugged his volleyball-sized and steel-hard shoulders. The scent of the leather trousers filled his nostrils. Except for that silly commercial many years ago, it wasn’t a fabric he usually preferred to wear. Since they were tight-fitting, it took him some time to put them on. Then he leaned down, and buttoned the buttons along the outside of his calves, and, since they were tailored for his exact measures, the trousers fit like a glove. He tied his boots. Bill helped him put his braces in place, and he tightened the leather belt. Before he put the jacket on, he noticed the embroidered patch on the back of the jacket: ”Party like there’s no tomorrow.” ”Nate, you cheeky bastard.” Rob inspected himself in the mirror, and his conflicting feelings returned. His face was youthful, but it wasn’t the face of his youth: His cheek was more powerful. The bones in his jaws were more prominent. There was something about how he held his head, that was different from his youth. His teenage bullies had looked like this, but no, they hadn’t. None of his teenage bullies had been built like this tall, wide, massive muscleman. A lump formed in his throat, and blood rushed to his dick, forming a nice bulge inside the leather trousers. His teenage bullies had run scared witless if they had faced his present self. He adjusted his stance again. The lump in his throat became more noticeable, the bulge in his trousers harder, and something fluttered deliciously in his lats, his chest and his gut. ”Nate, you cheeky bastard.” Then he remembered, which option he had chosen for Nate, and he couldn’t avoid cracking up in a smile, realising, that Nate probably went through similar mixed feelings at the same time. A nineteen-old Bad Boy with his own face stood in the mirror, and gazed back at him. He adjusted his stance again, adjusted his posture, cheek raised in an arrogant pose and made a double biceps. Three bulges throbbed: two bicepses hugged by ribbed bands and one, leather-clad, in his trousers. Perhaps not so bad, after all. He began to look forward to the theme party. * * * They gathered in separate room of the facility. Rob was fresh from the hairdresser, who had given him a mohawk buzzcut, the rest of his head entirely shaved. It felt unusual. Not his usual style. Air against the skin of his head. All men in the room were dressed in Bad Boy style. All the BIG men. ”Big” didn’t mean, that they were all of the same build. Some of them looked like participants in ’Men’s Physique’ competitions. Some were short and wide fireplugs. There were bodybuilder-shaped men and there were strongman-shaped men. And then there was Rob. It sunk in, that, even at a ’Hancing-facility, he was the biggest man in the room. His leather-clad bulge throbbed again. He hadn’t been competitive in the past. ’Hancing had not been about competitiveness to him, but about wellbeing and service to others, but the rejuvenation had awakened an unfamiliar side of himself inside. Biggest man in the room. Throbbed again. Admiring glances in his direction. Respect bordering to fear in some glances. Throbbed again. All dressed in Bad Boy style. No sign of Nate. Perhaps … An employee of Physical Potential Foundation cleared his voice, and began to speak: ”The theme of the surprise party is BAD BOYS GATECRASH THE FRAT PARTY. The other participants are kept in the belief, that the theme is BIG JOCKS’ FRAT PARTY. Before we all invade their party, have a welcome drink here, and get to know each other.” No sign of beer. Since hops farmers were struggling with parasites and the dwindling number of bees, beer was the posh drink these times: What you could expect among the affluent, not among working class Bad Boys. Despite their decent incomes, neither Rob nor Nate had consumed beer particularly often, only very seldom. ”You are a big fellow, mate.” A burly Bad Boy pressed a glass of vodka in Rob’s hand. Rob nodded, and the man continued: ”Are you a younger relative to that man in that MegaGrowth commercial? You know, the famous one: I HAVE THE POWER!” Rob cracked up in a smile again: ”That’s actually me. I just rejuvenated. I’m Rob.” He hesitated. Then he put his glass down, stroke a pose and shouted in the familiar way: "I HAVE THE POWER". His demonstration was appreciated. Time allowed him conversations with three men in the same tough-looking style. The room was increasingly filled with the scent of leather, cigar smoke, vodka, anti-perspirants and sweat. Then the employee interrupted: ”It’s time, blokes. Time to surprise the fratboys and crash their party.” Rob felt in good mood and excited. The mood in the room rose to even higher levels. Someone shouted: ”Party like there’s no tomorrow!” Oh, what he had hated that catchfrase in the past. Now, in this very moment, he allowed himself to become one with that catchfrase, and he bellowed: ”PARTY LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW!” It was met with cheer, and their crowd was set in motion towards the room where the jocks were. The facial expression of the men wearing NuJock-style clothes was an expression of total surprise. The rooms were styled to look like a frat-house, and the mix of clothes from the 1950s, 1980s and 2030s that had merged in NuJock was ever present in the rooms, not surprisingly, taking in regard how popular that style was among ’hancers. Rob looked for Nate. It wasn’t difficult to find him, since he was the biggest of the ”fratboys”, sitting in a sofa surrounded by two admirers and a third one at the floor between his legs. Nate was wearing a white t-shirt, a varsity jacket and unbleached denim jeans, and his hair was styled in 1980s fashion. The loud music in the speakers changed the same moment the Bad Boys entered the room, and Third Wave of British Donk was filling their ears. An admiring NuJock pressed a beer bottle in his hand. He answered with a bro nod, grabbed the bottle with his right hand, drank eagerly and grabbed the NuJock with his left hand. The yelp coming from the other man confirmed, that he enjoyed the gesture. He kissed the NuJock, simultaneously glancing in Nate’s direction. Nate was surrounded by three men’s attention, but Nate glanced back and winked. Rob winked back. The masculine energy in the room was way beyond 100%. Brawny ’hancers, many of them young-looking, but presumably in many different ages, kissed and groped each other, or sat relaxed talking to each other over a drink or two. The polos and t-shirts revealed the powerful build of them. Rob’s memories returned, mixed, blurred … The years immediately after their ’hancing, Rob and Nate had spent a lot of time clubbing, exploring the pleasure their powerful muscular bodies were able of, but they had been in their mid- to late twenties then, and this return to a teenage state … He was a horny giant with the testosterone of a titanic teenager now. Snogging Bad Boys and NuJocks were fun, but … Nate. His mind was eager for Nate. His body lusted for Nate. There was no one like his husband. Mildly squiffy, Rob waddled confidently through the crowd and loud donk-music, his leather-trousers squeeking as he moved, and he found himself standing before Nate’s sofa, erect, wide-shouldered and with his bootclad muscular legs wide apart. He registred how the other men’s eyes became wide in awe, but his main focus was at Nate, the biggest frat-jock in the room. Their eyes met. Time disappeared, and they silently lost themselves in each other's eyes: Rob’s icy blue and Nate’s gemstone brown. Rob’s bulge throbbed inside the glossy black leather. Nate’s bulge throbbed in unison inside the blue denim. Rob broke the silence: ”Sorry lads. This one belongs to me.” He lowered himself in a squatting position, grabbed Nate with his big hands, and then the titanic platinum-blond Bad Boy left the room firmly carrying the biggest NuJock in the room. Most eyes were turned in their diretion when they left, but the party went on. The bulge in Nate’s jeans confirmed, that Nate enjoyed his husband’s demontration of strength, and they soon reached their hotel room, where Rob threw Nate on the bed: ”More fun to come, fratboy!” ”Hell, yes, Bad Boy!” Then they laughed, and said in unison: ”Of all styles … This one?” The sound of their deep laughs reverberated inside their hotel room, again.
  3. Trio

    transformation Topher's Big Day

    Topher got lost in the forest of that odd planet, if he could call it that way, and was starting to get very concerned. Even if he was born in this foreign place, he never got used to its surroundings, to its miasma, and wanted to change that when decided to be a part of the corps of his colony. It turned out to be a bad idea, being at the bottom of the hierarchy, he was put in menial tasks. This was supposed to be his first true mission, to just explore the region, but things went terribly wrong, and there he was, lost. Had his armour, but nothing could shield him from hunger and the dangerous nature, he had to go home. He walked and walked, Not paying attention where he was stepping his foot on caused him to fall on a deep hole. It was fast, didn’t even have the time to think about it. At its bottom there was a lake, but not of water. It had a different name: Xenomass. Green and thick. His armour absorbed the impact, but his weight was too much for it to float on that piece of substance, even if it was thick. He sank into it. His despair was visible, as no human ever was exposed to the xenomass, and as the miasma, it was supposed to be toxic and deadly, it had no use to no one, and yet he was immersed in it, protected only by his armour. He was scared, but didn't scream, as he figured the armour would keep him safe. After a bit, he started to try to move his body, trying to reach the surface of the lake. Again, bad idea, the substance started to damage his equipment, to corrode it, and then layer by layer he was getting more vulnerable. Finally, it reached the last sheet before entering in contact to his skin. It was a matter of time before Xenomass would touch him. It happened, pain, pain. He screamed, drowning on it, scared and feeling his skin burn, as the xenomass started to invade his last layer, it was quick, all his body was exposed to it, he soon went unconscious. Something happened, Topher didn't die, but his body was offered to the planet, as a sacrifice, but the planet was benevolent. Exposed to the weird chemicals, he started to grow in size and in muscle, he was, before, a skinny awkward boy, but that started to change. Slowly, Topher was becoming more muscular and thicker, taller. His pecs soon started to grow, inflating, becoming large, defined, robust, hard. His abs came to life and were sculpted by the substance, 6 hard packs came to the surface, his shoulders would greatly expand, becoming round, thick, huge and large, strong, enough to support a great deal of weight. His arms expanded, becoming huge and as muscular as ever, and so did his legs. Skinny awkward boy no more, he was getting big. The chemicals changed his DNA and the mutation became deeper, his burnt skin transformed, being covered by metalic scales, his teeth grew and sharpened, his feet and hands metamorphosed. His two feet became paws with 3 huge fingers with claws, and his hands were formed by 4 fingers with claws in it, his eyes were covered by a multitude of lenses, becoming transformed and superior. All his hair was gone, and a group of horns appeared on his head and shoulders. His heart was obsolete, giving place to a strong plasma producer that would supply his body with his new needs. His lungs were transformed, and he could breathe through his skin, but his nose was kept. He was no human anymore, Topher gave in to a magnificent creature, that was about to come to life. The armour had disappeared, everything merged into him, his dogtag was now where his heart once was. The creature came to life and opened his changed eyes, coming to the surface quickly and roared. But he was still human on his mind, so the roar made him extremely scared, Topher soon realized the changes in his body and was desperate, he cried for help and begged for mercy, and then he had a need to drink the xenomass, he did it like an animal. Confused and worried, he had no idea he had no need for anything, anymore, that this was a blessing. He could still talk but his voice was changed, similar to a growl, even if he still was the awkward guy in his mind, what was left of him. The self discovery journey was a long one, he spent weeks in the cave, learning that he needed xenomass now like a human needs water. He discovered how strong he was when he had to open passages through the walls, so frustrated he was by coming into dead ends. He discovered how powerful his vision was when he could see creatures hiding beneath the rocks. He slowly started to like his changes, to find beauty in it, seeing his new muscles made his cock awake. He was only vaguely sexually awaken by then, as a human, let alone as the creature, but his new powers made his cock hard, and since he was alone, he decided to relieve himself, he jerked off, first very timidly, then more confidently and finally he was enjoying a pleasure he never felt. He felt so many things when he came, felt aggressive, felt in charge, felt like he was meant to be the creature, he licked the cum in his hands and roared of satisfaction, this was a new beginning for him. This cave was his new home now, as he found out he needed no one anymore, he spent a month living in it after finally discovering a way out. That cave was his home, but he decided to pay a visit to his former brothers in arms. Not as Topher, but as Genesis.
  4. They both kept on seeing each other on Wednesdays, when they could, chatting through and through, and Jason wasn’t distracted from his doings, the guy was so good at multitasking! They chatted through, Nik made himself comfortable at the control panel, a place he shouldn’t be, but he had Jason’s trust. As he chatted, he analyzed the buttons, and something that was lurking his mind started taking shape. He looked at Jason, and looked at the surroundings, talking, analyzing, thinking. One Wednesday, as they chatted, Jason went to see something at the chamber. But Nik was still around, much to Jason’s delight. ”Now, you can keep on chatting, I am listening, nice to see you, Nik, always is” Jason went to the chamber and was just doing small maintenance, just doing what was procedure. A clicking noise, the door shut. He noticed when the chamber closing, encapsulating him. He noticed Nik seating at the control panel, thinking, and yet his hands at a black button. ”Now now, I can see the chamber closed by mistake, no problems, it will just be hard for me to listen to you! Could you press this button right there, to open the door? Or are tou expecting me to tear it off with my bare hands?” Silence between them. Jason chuckled, a bit nervous. “What are you doing, friend? Aren’t you going to help me?” “I will” said Nik, after a weird pause. “I will” Before Jason could notice, Nik clicked a button, but a big, red one, and it started. The chamber announced the beginning of the procedure number 002. It hummed, heated, was getting ready to go. The new transformation. ”What is going on? Nik! NIK! There is a failure on the system! You gotta stop this!” “I’m fulfilling your dream, Jason, you can thank me later, brother.” ”What?! No!! Forget what I said that day!! No!! Please, help me, please! Don’t let this happen! PLEASE, NIK!!” The chamber started to fill with a gooey warm liquid, and Jason was desperate trying to escape it, until it reached him, and he started to scream, in panic, his clothes getting soaked in that mush of hypertrophic solution. He could barely listen to the outside now, the chamber was preparing for the procedure. Humming louder. The sound louder and louder, suddenly, a voice, an eerie voice, telling to Jason to comply. Telling to Jason he was an obedient soldier. Telling him to be a good patriot. To fulfill his duty. The chamber was filled with that liquid, and Jason felt dizzy. He barely could move anymore, all of him was completely covered in the liquid, surrounded by it, floating in it. Then, syringes got close to him, and violently injected in him their infusion. It hit him. A tube was inserted in his nose, a special gas, the Altering DNA substance was infused in the liquid, he could barely scream. It started. Knowing something was wrong, very wrong, but unable to fight against it. As much as it hurt, he couldn’t fight against it. Jason started to react to the huge amount of chemicals he was infused in, he grew. slowly but surely, he could feel his bones slowly reassembling already. He could feel his heart beating at his chest deeper, and deeper. He felt a dumb pain, like someone was taking his spine off his body by force, but there was nothing to do. Fight, he was unable to fight against it, it began. He opened his arms, and they responded, they started to grow wider. In stature, and in musculature, more and more, he could feel his chest expanding, becoming harder, thicker, stronger, like a rock, like marble, like titanium, he could feel the fibers of his abs strengthening, coming to surface, he was growing, no turning back. His clothes were starting to feel tighter, his legs, growing apart, his penis opening space in his trousers. He was feeling an indescribable pain, but he couldn’t express it, being half paralised by the formula inside him. His clothes were ripping apart in slow motion, his body was being exposed further, that lab assistant was being transformed, slowly reassembling turning to something else. He could hear the messages of the chamber inside him. Duty. Honor. Fight. Assert. Defend. He in the beginning would mumble, with every inch of strength left in him “no, no, no” until he wasnt anymore. With his bare hands, crush the enemy. So strong. Getting Bigger now. Bigger. His body reached a new rhythm of growth, still in pain, he started to experience a weird pleasure, his face contorted, his spasms became deeper and intimidating. His abs, o his abs, first just a hint, but now getting so thick, so muscular, so veiny now! Bigger, yes, bigger! His legs were growing apart, his dick tearing his trousers, reducing them to shambles. His abs and pecs, reduced his shirt to nothing. And with his strong arms, thick, indescribable. He was entirely naked on the chamber, safe for what was left of his lab coat. He opened his eyes, at last. When he could move again, when he could feel again, he was angry, he was in lust, he felt pleasure, he could barely touch his own cock, but the testosterone made his whole body sensitive, he was leaking precum, that was mixing itself with the solution, he was with his now big veiny cock hard, he roared. he was reborn. And then, Nik, finally fully embracing what he did to his friend, went a step further. Adding something else to the formula, Jason grew further, with his chest so expanded now, so glorious, so big. His bones reassembled, horns came out of his head, his eyes were deeply changed, various lenses in it, like a mighty insect. His arms grew, and were reassembled, like so much in Jason. He was growing bigger, stronger, crossing the line, he was reborn a soldier indeed, with his growing scales in his body, replacing his skin, his golden carapace surrounding and replacing his skin, deeper and deeper changes, further and further. It was done, Jason was no more, Nik fulfilled the dreams of that previous lab assistant, turning him into a mighty Herculean demigod. Stepping outside the chamber, when it was done, finally, he roared. “My brother in arms. Look what you’ve done to me! Look at the glory in which I was reborn” “We were equals before, but now we are one” Strong words. Silence. They looked at each other awkwardly at first, but realizing, how much they would do for each other. Nik would crush mountains for Jason, and Jason would swim oceans for Nik. Brotherly love, and a growing, weirdly at first, but growing, a physical love, they were mend together by the metamorphosis, they were mates now. Nik came to him and they hugged for long minutes. “You are my brother in arms now, my equal, Jason. We are one” ”Look what you’ve done. I am a beast! Tremble o world, for you’ve witnessed my glorious transformation!” They roared, and again looked at each other, now in a confident way, and again Nik put his arms on Jason’s powerful shoulders. “Not bad” ”Nik...” ”In such a small space of time you have done so much to me, I want to give it back. I have given you my gift. Make full use of your strength.” And then, slowly, they kissed, crossing the line of friendship, becoming partners. They explored each others bodies, touching its metalic nips, touching its abs, caressing their cocks with tenderness, discovering each other, further and further in love. Jason then laid down with Nik, and both played with each other’s cocks, masturbating each other as a fulfillment of their love. Later that day, after the scientists had to admit there were many breaches in security to address, Jason and Nik were at each others arms, sleeping deeply, enjoying their new power, and their love and deep care for each other. Jason hugging Nik like he could crush him. Their dogtags touching each other. They were one. —————————————————— Completely Optional: If you’d like to see more on the transformation process of my stories (which is not 100% what Jason went through, but it follows the same pattern) the link for it is Here
  5. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE * * * My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Fourteen The tension in the bedroom was dissipating, and the mood improving. Nate and Rob sat at a grande bed for two in their hotel room, facing opposite directions. "Yes, vanity to some extent, at least. I just want it to be something more than vanity, and informing our clients about 'Hancer Chapters is a way to make it into something more. I just wish the decision had arisen of our own free will. It's a wonderful St. Valentine's gift, and I'm very grateful, but you must admit, that it is a gift arriving with a threat." "I'm sorry, too, for losing my temper on St Valentine's night. At the time, it felt like you used the flooding as a cheap excuse for avoiding the discussion. I'm glad, that you decided to accept my Valentine's gift – well, the Federation's Valentine's gift – at last." "Had been more useful in twenty year's time, than now, but if your career demands it ... Sometimes it feel like we are just puppets on strings. Sorry for Valentine's night, and sorry for earlier. And I could have some use for this sort of vacation. Been so tired. Been so exhausted. I'm willing to accept some fun. Are you?" Both rose in silence, walked around the corners of the grande bed, and hugged each other, which swiftly turned into a passionate kiss. "Love you. Principles and ideals and all that. The expression in your eyes when you talk about it." "Love you. Ability to be the strong and silent presence when you want, and that acting ability to pretend to be The Machine, when you want. You can be The Machine in bed tonight, if you want, and give me an attitude adjustment." "Reminds me too much about work. The idea was to be on our own now. And don't worry for Max. Jim keep an eye on him. You can trust Big Jim. Focus on us. Have fun.” * * * One of their hosts treated them like royalty: ”It’s an honour to have you here, Dr. Nelson and Mr. Nelson. You are legends in your fields, and you have both brought us a lot of customers through the years, even if you are perhaps not aware of that. If you had asked for this service in a private capacity, we had gladly given you a discount, for friendship’s sake, but I understand, that it is WHC which is paying for both of you?” ”To be honest, I would have appreciated their gift better in twenty or thirty years’ time, but who am I to be an ingrate. Don’t look a gift-horse in the mouth!”, Rob answered. ”Thank you for your words. Are you a fan?”, Nate continued. ”Not personally. My friends and my nephews are. Would it be too much if I asked for a few autographs?” ”Not at all. I love my fans.” ”One of our PTs, Bill, will help you through the ’hancing-procedure. I guess you are already familiar with room-service and the theme-park?” ”One of your colleagues showed me around years ago, when we went through the process of mutual certification. Irresponsible competitors were a rising problem even then.” ”I’ve only had a positive impression communicating with you at Megagrowth. We wanted to be sure, that your enhancement-procedures wouldn’t interact negatively with the ones we use. Rest assured, that you are not the only men ’hanced by Megagrowth, who go through a rejuvenation here at Physical Potential. Oh, here’s Bill. I’ll leave you then. Enjoy your stay!” Bill was a handsome and mildly ’hanced physiotherapist and assistant augendologist. Under normal circumstances he would probably behaved more confidently, but the presence of Rob and Nate shook his professionalism. ”Oh. I’m honoured to assist your further’hancing. I’m your assistant augendologist and morphogenetic operator. Dr. Nelson … The Machine … Wow. I’m a member of ’Hancer Chapter No. 74 here on the island. You – uh – inspire me … If you follow me, to the operative facility, I will talk you through the preparation. I suppose, you both had your nutritional IVs last night, only ingested water today and got your injections this morning? Yeah, I guessed that much. You know the drill, but I have to ask formally. Please leave your bathrobes in the locker, and then enter that door.” Bill disappeared through the door he had waved at. Rob shook his head. ”Is this happening to you all the time?” ”More or less. You get used to it. Sometimes I get tired of it, but sometimes it give me a rush. Unlike me, you only face it at ’HancerCon.” The two middle-aged giants entered the door, and faced the equipment. The equipment wasn’t entirely alien to Rob. He and some of his colleagues from Megagrowth had visited Physical Potential Foundation years ago. The heated and humid air, resembling a bath house, was the same as last time. The trace of ozone was the same, too. The emitters hang from the ceiling, connected to large cables familiar from his own company, but there were also dissimilarities: Instead of a closed Chamber of lead-glass there was a tiled room with something looking like a big jaccuzzi, enforced walls and a closable window to the control room. Metal stairs helped guests down into the jaccuzzi, and the emitters formed a vertically adjustable hemisphere. Bill returned from the control room. ”It’s now several hours since your injection, and the optimal time for exposure. When guests in a relation undergo the Procedure, they are welcome to do so simultaneously, and considering the nature of the ’hancing, we are used to leave the guests alone, if you know what I mean?” Nate entered the jaccuzzi, and reclined relaxedly. Rob followed him, their big shoulders touching each other. ”No gas, like last time?” ”No gas.” ”Just relax, fellows. Most customers love it.” Bill left them, closed the door and closed the window to the control room. The illumination in the ceiling was switched off, and dim lighting around the surrounding walls was switched on. The hemisphere lowered itself over the jacuzzi, shutting off the outer world. They sat, leaning against the tiled walls of the jacuzzi, their heads resting against folded towels and their burly physiques submerged in the invitingly warm hypertrophic solution. No return. No way to cop out in the last minute anymore. ”Worried?”, Rob asked his husband. ”No. Excited. Unlike last time, there are no worries for side effects. This time, we can take it all in, and … UH!” The emitters in the ceiling were switched on and warmed up. ”Uh! Can you feel it, Rob? I can feel it already!” Rob swallowed, and he felt some traces of bad conscience for enjoying it. ”Uhnnnn … Yes, I can feel it Nate. Already so good. I never thought, that I would become even bigger, but now when … UHNNNNNN!” Another humming began, accompanying the humming emitters above their heads, and, when the hypertrophic solution became a conductor for the anabolic power, they both started. Shoulder to shoulder. Big, even for ’hancers. But now. Rob put his hand in Nate’s. But now … Uh. The build-up. But now, they were going to become rejuvenated and even bigger, according to the Federation’s specifications. The build-up. Rob yelped. Their bodies spasmed in a pleasant way. Rob had flashbacks from years and years ago, when their insane employer had forced them to grow big. To grow big. The sound of Nate’s deep moan. The feeling of the build-up … pleasant, exciting, arousing … Rob felt how Nate playfully grabbed his growing dick. He returned the favour. … Experience this without the worries from last time. Only relax and take it in. Relax and BECOME HUGE. They already were titans, looming over ordinary man, but Nate’s Federation wanted them to … Uh! Wanted them to … The build-up! They both yelped. Yelped and moaned and felt how their muscles reacted in a way they couldn’t have imagined. A muscle-building process, designed to grow ordinary men into giants, was now used to … UH! His muscles! Nate’s muscles! The sensation of rapidly growing even more … The silly but alluring Hulk-fantasies he and Nate had confided to each other … Bathed in the rays, while the Anabolic power streamed into their already enhanced bodies, adapting Nate’s and his physique, increasing his muscle mass even more … Blood rushing to his growing muscles … his engorged muscle mass, and Nate’s engorged muscle mass … He couldn’t think clearly anymore … The build-up … The power streaming into him … YES! Feeding his strength! Feeding his power-muscles! Ultra-masculine sexual ecstacy! Two empowered titans with engorged muscles growing together inside the hemisphere! Even … Even more intense than last time! YES! Nate! We! We! Nate roared! He roared! He couldn’t resist his instincts anymore. Facing his husband, he could watch signs of years’ worry melt away from Nate’s face, and a more fresh and innocent face take form, resembling pics from Nate’s youth, and yet not resembling these pics: The Nate, that had existed more than twenty years ago had been a short and wiry little fellow, but the horny Being relishing in its own strength, the bulging muscles of which he now clenched and caressed, was a titan of a man, an impossible jock-giant, and the knowledge, that he was undergoing a similar transformation himself melted away all the principled mental reservations he had maintained all these months. Jock-giant! He pressed his delightfully spasming engorged jock-muscles againt Nate’s delightfully spasming engorged jock-muscles, and, while the hemisphere caused them to transform even more beyond normal human limitations, the two jock-titans rubbed their steel-hard manhoods against each other’s cartoonish Hulk-abs and kissed each other passionately. When the emitters and the anabolic power reached their maximum, the two behemoths roared in mindless ecstacy, and then, slowly, the power-levels slowly faded … faded. The two jock-titans nibbled each others’ ears. When his breathing had returned to something close to normal, Rob whispered in Nate’s ear: ”Let me be honest. It was worth it. Look at you!” * * * Next chapter is found HERE
  6. The Teaser for this story may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE * * * Project Defender Chapter Five MONSTROUS. "Monstrous" was the word, that flashed through the mind of Jones the split second he registred the presence of the Being, which had entered the subterraneous gym area. It looked like its muscle mass had been allowed to overflow, like some unknown substance brimming over. Its shape was revolting, but it was anyhow an obscene and disturbing icon of terrifying strength and muscular power. It was difficult to take its sheer muscle mass in. Lieutenant Jones was bench-pressing a barbell at the time, and the time Jones needed to put the barbell back in place at the rack, was all the time the Being needed. Its large feet thumped against the concrete floor as it waddled clumsily but threateningly in his direction, and it reached the bench at the same moment, Jones had freed his hands and risen to an erect position. The first punch caused Jones to fall off the bench, and it made him dizzy. The Being threw itself over him, but the martial instincts programmed into his mind allowed him to swiftly roll away a few feet, enough to avoid being pinned under the Being. Afterwards, he couldn't remember what had happened the next few seconds. He found himself on his feet, the Being and himself circling each other. Those monstrously powerful vein-covered arms were certainly able to re-shape metal plates. From a tactical point of view, Jones had to stay away from their reach, but he had to defeat the enemy by some means. Incredulously, he asked: "What ARE you?" The mouth of the Being formed a triumphant smile, but the smile was replaced by a irritated grimace, when the Being struggled to use its voice. It struggled, but in a raspy voice, like blocks of rock scraping against each other, it finally formed words: "Don't you remember me, Britse? I'm the one you hindered from teaching the little Fag a lesson. I'm now stronger than any of you. I will be able to defeat the aliens on my own." "De Vries?" "Names do not matter any longer. I'm a god. I'm wrath. I'm punishment. I will crush you. I will crush the Fag. I will crush the midgets. I will crush EVERYTHING!" When the second blow hit him, Jones began to doubt, that he would survive this. He was stronger than any man outside the Project, but the Being was stronger. The blow had forced Jones backwards to one of the walls, close to a rack of dumbbells. Swiftly, he grabbed a 100 kilo gramme dumbbell and threw it at the Being with full force. His old self would have been very proud of juggling a 100 kilo weight like it had been a rugby ball, but his new self was programmed to focus on the present situation. The fight. The combat. De Vries had lost his mind entirely at last, but his incomprehensible weight and strength made him an immense enemy. The weight hit the Being on his abs. There was a slight wavering, but the hit didn't cause it to lose any breath or change its stance. There was smugness on its face. The raspy voice let out he words: "I'm superior in every way!" Jones volleyed three weights after each other rapidly in the direction of the Being. Two of them were of no use, but one of them hit the Being in the face. It would probably have broken the neck of an ordinary man. It forced the Being to bend its bull-neck backwards, and it slowed him down. It recovered at an unimaginable pace, and then it was over him, pinning him to the wall, its weight forcing itself on him – crushing him if the pressure continued long enough. There was hatred, glee and triumph in the face of the Being, and spittle rained on Jones' face. The Being's large hand ... no, PAW was probably a better description ... grabbed Jones' throat and began to press. Jones' powerful neck-muscles surprised the Being, and there was a glimpse of respect briefly flickering in the eyes of the Being, until the pressure intensified. Jones was increasingly aware of his own blood pressure ... the sound of his circulation in his ears ... dark red mist rising in his sight ... the feeling of not receiving enough air ... panic ... a wave of darkness rising ... Then, the grip disappeared. Slowly, the dark wave receded. Air filled his lungs and expanded his mighty chest. It took him a few moments until he became aware of his surroundings, and he didn't know with any certainty how long time had lapsed. His programming allowed him to expel those moments of confusion, and he made a tactical analysis. What was happening? With the speed of lightning, the now gigantic shape of Corporal Kowalski hit the Being in the face with his knee, and jumped away before the Being was able to grab him. And Taylor ... Oh, God! Lieutenant Taylor ... Jones hadn't expected any of the scientists to have any time to spare on the recruits and the Lab while Captain Melnyk and Major Murphy investigated what had happened last night, but obviously some of them had ... had transformed Taylor into one of the Defenders. Kowalski and Taylor were now of the same shape, the optimal shape of the enhanced Defenders: Wide, tall, heavy, sturdy, muscular, and with no impediment to their speed. Taylor threw 200 kilogramme weight-plates like they were frisbees, and when they repeatedly hit the Being in its face, it began to stumble. Kowalski circled the Being, and the clumsiness of the Being began to show. Kowalski's symmetrical and functional physique favourably compared to the Being's asymmetrical and dysfunctional amorphous shape of brutal muscle mass, as he attacked the Being and reposted before the Being was able to react and use its terrifying strength. Then, Kowalski grabbed a barbell loaded with heavy weights, and used it as a sledge-hammer. The speed added to the impact of the weights, and a terrifying blow sent the Being stumbling into one of the rock walls, hitting its head. It feel life-less to the floor. For a second, Kowalski stood over his fallen foe with the barbell in his hands resembling St. Michael standing over Lucifer. "Quick! Reinforcement, before it wake up!" Lieutenant Taylor stayed on guard close to the Being, while Corporal Kowalski ran to bring reinforcement. Something more alarming, than the investigation had happened. * * * To be continued.
  7. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE * * * My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Thirteen The bleak daylight of a clouded February morning fell into the room from the windows. Rain drummed against the windows. "Welcome home. Max.", the i-House said. "Oh. Sorry. You startled me.", Rob said. "I'm not used to be home during electricity-rationing, so at first I wondered if there was something wrong." "Are you ok? I became worried." "I'm fine." Rob was sitting in his pajama in the unlit kitchen. There were dark semi-circles under his eyes. There was an opened heart-shaped box of chocolate on the table, and it looked like the kitchen had been abandoned in a hurry two days earlier. "By the way you look, I would have guessed, that you need an appointment with another physician." "Thanks for your concern. I've called Megagrowth. They are willing to give me a one week vacation over Mardi Gras, which is probably what I need. Work and disaster-relief, trust-meetings, charity-fund, Chapter-meetings and the Aardvarks ... I've accepted too many responsibilities." "There's a time for fun, too." Rob smiled bleakly: "Using my own words against me. Are you and Jim ok? What happened up there when I had left?" "When the new load of sand bags arrived, it became easier to fend the water away from the less afflicted areas. I do believe, that we made a difference." "I'm sure you did. Sorry for that breakdown." "You fought valiantly with the rest of us." "I was impressed when you pulled that endangered car up from the water with your bare hands, and that elderly lady in the surrounded house looked like she wanted to adopt you when you carried her to safety." "I hope, that I was to some use. I'm beginning to understand how to realise the ideals we've been talking about." "Did you ever read comics?" "Why do you ask?" "With great power comes great responsibility." Both of them laughed. "I had a talk with the fire-brigade. They are more than willing to give me a job, so I don't have to live on your expenses." "Excellent. Do you feel ready for that step?" "Yes, I believe so. Sitting here while you and Nate are away at work isn't constructive either." "I imagine. However ..." Rob fell silent, and looked unusually tired. "I've been thinking about something else. Nate and I try to do what friends are for, and I hope, that you have had some use of your sessions with Dr. Silbermann ..." "Yes, yes of course." "But when you gave your pledge by the Bible, it caused me to consider ... I don't wan't to pry ... It's your personal business, but I wonder if you are Catholic?" "Not particularly observant for a while, but I went to church with Nan in my childhood. Then there's the LGB issue and the church ..." "Yes, yes, I understand. I'm Episcopalian myself, and it dawned to me ... I don't want to mention something you are not comfortable with, but I've found it very useful to go to confession twice a year, and you Catholics have confession, too, so I thought, that it could be worth considering. I believe the Redemptorists at Our Lady of the Perpetual Help downtown sided with Pope Francis II, when the split with Pope Leo XIV happened after the war, and I've heard from gay Catholic men, that they are good at councelling and confession. Sorry. Just wanted to mention the possibility." "You didn't do anything wrong, Rob. Sometimes you are just too tactful." "I don't appreciate when people try to ram a message down my throat, myself, so I didn't want to do the same. I become irritated when folk from the Apocalyptic Church of the Seventh Seal obstruct the pavement." "No offence taken. It might be a good idea. And it's soon Mardi Gras. Is Nate Episcopalian, too? I've never seen him leave home any Sunday." "Oh no. Nate's a secular humanist. He gave his pledge on the Constitution." "And you are married?" "Of course. Marriage is about loving each other, not sharing exactly the same opinions about everything. Human relations rest on the ability to agree to disagree. Society, too." * * * The following chapter is found HERE
  8. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE * * * My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Twelve It was night. The windows were placed close to the ceiling, and no one outside the building would have been able to see what took place indoors. Wooden panels covered the walls. A Cascadian flag was placed visibly in a corner, but what drew attention was a banner embroidered with the sentence: "Use strength to serve". Candles were lit. The big men, few of them older than forty, none of them younger than twenty, dressed casually rather than formal, sat on benches along the left and right walls. It was already half an hour into the Chapter meeting. Jim sat behind the chairman's desk, and rapped his gavel with a loud knock, that echoed through the dimly lit room: "As you now have heard the tenets and ideals, by which Brothers of 'Hancer Chapters will abide, will the pledges please step forward!" Four men rose. So did their four sponsors. "Name?" "Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz." "Is this pledge's sponsor present?" Rob answered: "Present." "By what do this pledge find his obligation morally binding?" "By the Bible, Honourable Chairman." "As an oath or as a reply to questions?" "As a reply to questions, Honourable Chairman." "Will you then place your hand on the Bible, and answer these questions: Are you willing to enter 'Hancer Chapter No. 2, uphold the Constitution and by-laws of this Chapter, and strive to live by the ideals of this Chapter and use your strength to serve?" "I am." The ceremony was repeated with small differences. Some pledges took an oath, some answered questions. Bro. Smith gave his pledge with his right hand upon his heart. Bro. Jones gave his pledge with his hand on the Cascadian Constitution. Bro. Singh decided to bow before the Adi Granth wrapped in a cloth. "Will you now gather around the pedestal in the middle of the Chapter, join me, and place your right hands upon each other." A circle of big men stood around the pedestal, Jim's hand on the surface of the furniture, the others' hands on his. "Please, repeat my words in unison. To neighbours be a helping hand." "TO NEIGHBOURS BE A HELPING HAND." "A citizen mindful of his land." "A CITIZEN MINDFUL OF HIS LAND." "To do what's right and good and just." "TO DO WHAT'S RIGHT AND GOOD AND JUST." "To be a friend deserving trust." "TO BE A FRIEND DESERVING TRUST." "In days of strength, use strength to serve." "IN DAYS OF STRENGTH, USE STRENGTH TO SERVE." "In days of danger, never swerve." "IN DAYS OF DANGER, NEVER SWERVE." "In days of darkness, on friends rely." "IN DAYS OF DARKNESS, ON FRIENDS RELY." "Give their requests compassionate reply." "GIVE THEIR REQUESTS COMPASSIONATE REPLY." "Pledges. I hereby declare you Brothers of 'Hancer Chapter No. 2. Act in a manner deserving this honour." Jim rapped his gavel again. Ten minutes later, the formal part of the meeting was ended, and the new Brothers were welcomed with handshakes or hugs. Max was moved by the intensity of the experience, despite its simple means. * * * It was February. Max didn't want to disturb Rob and Nate on St. Valentine's day, so he went to the Chapter House. He expected it to be abandoned an evening like this, but it wasn't. He found Jim in the gym. They nodded to each other. Warmup. Chest day. Dumbbells. Cable. Barbell. He and the weights. Could let his thoughts and memories go, and just focus on the weights, their resistance and his muscles. The weights and his muscles. The physicality of it. Bodily present. Pull. Push. Press. His sweat. His effort. Forcing the weights to build him up. Controlling the weights. Dominating the weights. His strength. Blood rushing to his exhausted muscles. The feeling of pump. He shivered. The feeling of pump made him horny. Big Jim had finished his leg day and wandered over to Max, watching his efforts. Barbell press: 4400 lbs. FOUR THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS! Six repetitions. He felt exhausted, but satisified. "I've never seen someone press that much weight, and this is a 'hancer gym." "Thanks. Your words mean at lot to me." "Aren't you preoccupied tonight? I would have thought so." They waddled to the showers. "No. Wanted to leave Nate and Rob to their own tonight, for obvious reasons, and I'm not seeing anyone." "Want to have dinner at my place? I'm not preoccupied either tonight." "I'm honoured. Don't want to cause you any trouble ..." "You don't cause any trouble, Max. Being alone at St. Valentine's can be disappointing to a single like me, and I would like to get to know you better." They showered. Max noticed, that Jim made an effort not to glance. Lathered. He felt so hard now. The pump. Veins like metal threads crawling all over him. Rinsed. Jim must be about his own age. He had heard, that Jim worked as a lab assistant at Megagrowth, the same company as Rob. They put their clothes on in the locker room. Max hadn't abandoned his Bad Boy style. He felt comfortable in it, and he had got to know two other Bad Boys in town, who shared his thoughts on watching the neighbourhood instead of making a nuisance of themselves. So he put his cargo trousers on, sprayed a spray-on polo over his chest and back, fastened the enamel buckle of his sturdy leather belt, tied his boots, put a bomber jacket on and then a black leather vest embroidered with the text: "Strength to serve." Jim nodded at the vest. "Nice touch. Much better than the usual 'Party like it's no tomorrow'." "I hope, you don't mind?" "Any means to spread the news would do. It's not your clothes or your preference for the third wave of British donk, that's a problem. It's some Bad Boy's violence. I'm well aware, that all sorts of political adherences are present within the Bad Boy scene, whatever some people in the news says. I'm also aware of the existence of gay Bad Boys." "Uh. Well. I never asked ..." They left the building together, out in the damp, cold and dark night, Jim wearing dark blue denim jeans, timberland boots, a sleeveless plaid shirt, a leather jacket and a watchcap. Jim smiled, his bearded face and smiling eyes lighting up. "I swing both ways. It honours Brother Rob and Brother Nate, that they haven't told you. We are not supposed to gossip." They took a public bus to Jim's place. "If I had known, that I would have a guest tonight, I would have prepared some meat or chicken, but I hope, that you eat beans and dairy?" "Yes. Thanks. No allergy." So they ate a bean casserole with a milk-based sauce and some fresh vegetables. The scent of the food filled the kitchen. Some vanilla-flavoured Hulkabolic for dessert. There were a few seconds of awkwardness, until they both took a seat in the Grande sofa and relaxed. "Did I tell you, that I've never seen a 'hancer your size?" "Well, no, but that's not strange, because I consulted another company than Megagrowth. It turned out, that they have other priorities than Megagrowth. Rob is helping me put my things in order." "That's nice of him. He's always been nice to me, and a good role model, but let us not talk about my employer tonight. Let's talk about you." They talked for an hour. Max left some thing out. Jim had eased himself closer to Max when they talked about exercise, and Max had invited Jim to squeeze his biceps. Their eyes tried to tell each other what their mouths were unable to. Now their beefy arms were over each other's bulging shoulders, and a warm billowing fog began to fill Max' mind as he allowed Big Jim rest his bearish head against Max' shoulder. Their faces approached each other, their lips meeting ... Then the silence was broken by a ringtone. Silently swearing, Jim pressed his smartwatch, answered, listened and ended the call. "There's a situation upstate. Flooding. The authorities have asked for volunteers from the Chapter." * * * The next chapter may be found HERE
  9. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE * * * My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Eleven "I'm so sorry. Feel so embarrassed. Didn't want to wake you up, but the bad memories returned, and ..." The imposing titan shivered in the grande sofa, tears ran silently down his seemingly youthful cheeks, and his facial expression was alarmingly full of guilt. Rob, sitting in the corner of the grande sofa, wearing a night gown, silently patted him on his back comfortingly. "I don't understand. I thought, I would be so masculine and confident now, and not cry like a baby. So embarrassing. Crying in front of you, of all people." "It doesn't work that way, Max.", Rob said in a low voice. "Don't call me Max. My old name hurts. 'Brad' hurts, too. I don't know who I am." He fell silent. "Thanks for your patience. Both you and Nate. For having me here. For you patience." Only a low energy diode was lit, in order to save energy, but moonlight fell in through the three-pane window and formed a square on the floor. Max continued: "Thought I would be invulnerable now. Like you. Like Nate." "I'm not invulnerable, big buddy. Sometimes, I imagine, that Nate is invulnerable, but I know, that he isn't. Muscles aren't like an armour against emotions. 'Hancing isn't about fleeing something, or it shouldn't be. If you had applied to 'hancing at Megagrowth, we hadn't allowed you to 'hance without spending time in councelling or some other therapy first. After a few tests, which backfired in the early days, we vet the unsuitable cases, and we send the immature ones to shrinks. Our infamous Texan, Siberian and Middle Eastern competitors don't, and the gigantic nutcases they let out give 'hancing a bad reputation. You are supposed to have emotions. They makes you human. You are also supposed to be an adult, who know how to control your emotions – not deny their existence: that's the road to mental unhealth – but control them. Not act in affect." Rob patted their long-term guest on his back again. What's wrong with Korsakoff? Turning a 30 year old into a Hulk with a 19 year old face, a 19 year old mind and a lot of harmful mind-implants? "Was the one who wanted it so much even me? I don't remember much before Bob and Vitaly gave me my first 'hancing. After that, all I wanted was GROWTH. Extreme growth. The most extreme growth in the world." "It was an efficient way to silence you anyway. Do you remember anything about your lost reportage?" "Nothing. It's a black hole up there. I don't feel like that Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz, I'm supposed to be, but on the other hand, it feels like 'Brad Maxxx' is a lie built by Bob and Vitaly." He shivered again and was silent for some moments, until he spoke again: "Does it make me a bad person, that I liked it? That I was so eager to be that "big st00pid jockboi"? "I think that that answer your former question. Was the one who wanted it so much even you? Yes, I believe it was, at least to some extent. The night you spent with Nate and me at HanceCon let all the clues out: You said, that you were just a baseline 'hancerFan, but your voice and behaviour hinted at a suppressed wish to 'hance yourself." "Pity I don't remember that night. Sounds like something worth to remember." He reached a hand out to caress Rob's cheek, but Rob clenched his wrist and stopped it. "While you are recovering from your shock and trauma, it would be unprofessional of me or Nate to engage in any entanglement with you, even for some casual sex. You are not yourself at the moment. Let's wait and see what happens if or when you recover. We are here to help you, not take advantage of you when you are vulnerable." "I don't like to feel vulnerable." "It's a part of the human condition. It's a part of growing up to realise it and admit it." "But vulnerability isn't masculine." "Is it masculine to show an empty facade to the world, shut your intellect off and shut your emotions off? I've seen a few men walk down that road, and it led either to alcoholism, to very severe mid-life crises, or both. Do you admire physical strength? So do I. So do Nate. We wouldn't be involved in all this if we didn't, but exercise and 'hancing, feeling all those positive effects of physical exercise and the increase of well-being and confidence, they are not supposed to be an escape from the rest of human life. Muscles aren't an armour. I know, that you are a Bad Boy. I have no idea if that's your own idea, or if it is your former Hulk-daddy's mind-implants talking, and I admit, that the style looks hot, but the entire sub-culture's lack of responsibility isn't masculine in my book. Putting partying and mindless street violence over taking responsibility isn't masculinity in my eyes: It's prolonged teenage life. I know, that a few Bad Boys are involved in improvement of their neighbourhoods. They are the real men. Other Bad Boys flee responsibility, repeating that old tiresome slogan ''Party like it's no tomorrow, because we're doomed'. They are not real men. Your neighbourhood need what you can do. Your municipality need you to be a responsible citizen. I don't want to spoil fun. God knows that the last thing I am, is a puritan. Fun is a part of life, but it's not the only part of life, and real men are able to balance different aspects of life. During your weeks with me and Nate you must have heard me rattle off my mantra: 'Family. Work. Neighbourhood. Citizenship. Fun.' ... Sorry, didn't mean to rant again." "It doesn't matter. I enjoy listening. You begin to make sense, but I will need some time to get my things in order. Sorry for waking you up. Sorry for being such a crybaby." "Don't apologise. You've been through a lot. If you hadn't signed that non-disclosure document, we might have had a chance to sue that 'hancing company and your Hulk-daddy, but that's a lost opportunity now. I and Nate will do what we can to encourage your recovery. There are grants and stipends for less affluent men harmed by indiscriminate 'hancing. We are here for you, but you must be willing to do your part of your recovery." "You know, that I am. Thanks. Sleep well." * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  10. The Prelude to this story may be found HERE The preceding chapter of this story may be found HERE * * * PREFACE The initial part of this chapter is unusually violent, at least implicitly so. Sensitive readers be warned. This segment of the story is crucial to the narrative structure. The author do not defend rape or domestic abuse. My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Ten 'Hanced now. BIG. His titanic presence had left the ModPod, anabolic power still surging through his muscle fibres, flowing through his veins. Had watched himself in a mirror and almost cummed. His big hand caressed his vein-covered incomprehensibly big muscles. Entered the suite he shared with Sir ... Shared with the little cunt. The old runt waited for him with an expectant smile and eager gaze. "Look at you! Look at you! I will assiduously engage in adulatory blandishment in the most sesquipedalian of manners. I’m overwhelmed!” He was BIG now. HE was Sir now, and the little cunt deserved a ride on his manhood. No greeting. No pleasantries. Straight to the essentials: "Kneel." His voice sounded like the sound of a sub-woofer now. He took his terrycloth gown off and threw it away, revealing his vein-covered massive presence. YEAH: VEIN-COVERED MASSIVE PRESENCE. He stood there, imposing, with his brutal and obscenely bulging thighs wide apart in an assertive stance, and watched the little cunt obey him. Yeah! His dominant Alpha-ness had manifested and asserted itself, forcing the obedience of lesser men ... The little silver-haired fragile old runt between his legs, fumbling, struggling to swallow his manhood and failing, because of the girth of his telescopic man-cannon ... His dick throbbing ... His entire body throbbing, because of the aftermath of the 'Hancing-process ... The scent of Alpha musk in the room ... the scent of pre-cum ... His anger rising, because the cunt wasn't able to give head ... lifting the runt effortlessly, the runt moaning because of his display of strength and superhuman POWER ... Ripping the trousers off the runt – no time for pleasantries and romance and titillation and other tosh, because his will was focused on the goal of immediate and total RELEASE ... so the old wanker had to excuse, because Brad Maxxx wanted maximum release, and Brad Maxxx was a Bad Boy Alpha ... the old cunt had even payed for Brad Maxxx to become a Bad Boy Alpha, and he would get it ... Yeah, he would get it all ... The old cunt screamed when Brad entered, and screamed when Brad adjusted the position of the toff on Brad's man-pole, like a piece of pork on a skewer ... Look! No hands! Even his dick was insanely strong and muscular now, carrying the weight of a baseline man on its own, though admittedly a tiny and insignificant baseline man ... When Brad began to throb (and throb harder, throb more intensely) the cunt screamed again, but it didn't matter, because Brad was in charge, and Brad was the dominant Alpha, and Brad was BIG now, and Brad's man-meat was like a homing missile now, with the target set on total release, and the old cunt asked for it ... Yeah: Sir would have what he wished for ... Here it was: An 8 foot veiny Hulk-like behemoth with a dominant Bad Boy Alpha mindset, just as ordered, and this dominant Bad Body Alpha throbbed very hard now, throbbed very intensely now, and felt his Hulk-like POWER circulate in his veins and all his muscle fibres, because he was ... Uh! He was ... YES! SOON! ... throbbing Alpha ... HE WAS THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!! * * * When he woke up Sir wasn't there. At first, it didn't alarm him. The bathroom perhaps. They could both need to use the bathroom. Then he felt hungry. Without waiting for the frail toff, Brad lifted the phone and ordered a 'hancer-sized breakfast, and return to doze. He woke up again and watched the news. Something about King Charles III meeting Joseph I, King of Scots, and then something about wood-based plastics. He switched the screen off. Room service. Breakfast. So hungry after his final 'hancing. No sign of Sir. Then a knock. He didn't bother to dress. Naked in all his ultra-masculine glory he opened the door and received three envelopes. Strange. A document, largely written in incomprehensible legalese. "... on behalf of our client, Dr. Oxford-Cambridge ... not press charges, unless the individual known as Mr. Maxxx refuse to sign the non-disclosure document ..." What the fukk? A hand-written letter: "I'm sorry Brad. I'm sorry for what you did to me, and what I did to you. It wasn't a good idea after all, only an ill-advised attempt to turn a daydream real. Do you even remember, that you raped me? My lawyer tells me, that I would be prosecuted according to the Illegal Enhancing Act, enacted by the Canterbury Parliament, if I pressed charges against you. What do you say about parting of our ways, and leaving each other alone? I have arranged for a return ticket to any destination in the world, if you ask for it in the waiting area – aeroplane or zepp, whichever you prefer. Let my lawyer know where to send your remaining belongings. Some days it was fun, wasn't it? Yours sincerely Hulk-daddy" A message from the lobby: "Dear Mr. Maxxx, Until told otherwise, you will remain in your suite. A nurse will ensure, that you don't suffer any adverse medical effects of last day's 'hancing. The company is aware of last night's events, and Dr. Oxford-Cambridge has been brought to hospital. An enhanced guard will be stationed outside your door, until the legal position of the situation has been clarified. Dr. Korsakoff" Confusion. Contradictory feelings. Legal position? Rape? He wasn't a bad person ... He didn't ... The dawning comprehension ... The rising guilt ... The other feeling rising: No one tells this fukking awesome Alpha Bad Boy what to do ... Was it himself, or was it the mind-implant Sir wanted installed inside his mind? No money from his Hulk-daddy anymore? The following days were a haze, and afterwards he didn't remember them particularly well. No adverse medical effects. No sight of Sir. No opportunity to apologise or say farewell. Ticket to New Vancouver. Trouble to enter Canada without a passport and a smartwatch, until the border authority took his fingerprints. Told him he was Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz. Didn't feel right. Didn't remember any Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz. He was Brad Maxxx, the strongest man in the world. The days. The weeks. The months. A journalist seeking him. Refusing the journalist. Non-disclosure document. No flat. No phone. No watch. No one paying for his a-Gram account anymore. Sleeping rough. A rush or two when other Bad Boys picked a fight and he won. The pain and the hunger. Shelters were not dimensioned to feed 'Hancers who didn't feed their muscles properly. Guilt. Denied admission to his usual shelter after a fight with a 'hanced veteran. Dark night. Rain. Soaked. End his life? Nothing mattered. Pain and hunger. Guilt. Dark. Soaked. Dark. A kid on a bench watching a vintage commercial. A platinum blond 'hanced giant with an aesthetic physique wearing a He-Man costume shouting: "I have the power!" A fragment of a forgotten memory stirring. Hot 'hancer-guy. Seen him before. * * * A pleasant male voice answering: "Nelson." "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It must be in the middle of the night where you are, too, but I don't know who to call. My name is Brad Maxxx. 'Hancing has made a mess of my life. You are so darned impressive, and I don't know if anyone else can help me." He let out a sob. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  11. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE PREFACE The content of this chapter will become easier to understand, if you have read my story Descent into Growth, which may be found HERE. My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Nine Not quite right, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was not quite right. Rob felt good. Body felt good. Been afraid of the chamber. Worried for the well-being of Doc, his trusted superior. Worried for the mental state of Mr. V, his employer. Worried for Nate, his newfound friend. The one who had become a more central part of Rob's life, than he had initially expected. Rob felt good. Body felt good. Been afraid of the chamber. Wary of Nate initially: A brash, cocky working-class fighter, but Rob had gradually warmed up to him as the research-project proceeded. Tentatively finding common ground: Their age, of course ... Wartime childhoods ... Both dads dead in the war ... Ambivalence towards their employer ... Nate giving Rob some training advice ... Cocky Nate showing Rob new exercises, how to perform them properly ... Nate's hand on Rob's shoulder, hand on chest, explaining ... Fighter hand of a fighter lad on the tiny and shy lab assistant's shoulder and chest ... Confiding their shared fascination of muscles – BIG MUSCLES, growing muscles – to each other ... Not the disimpassioned interest of Doc, but a curiosity, and urge ... Nate and Rob looking for pics of old bodybuilders and strongmen before the war ... Discussing the build of the new sort of hyper marines, who had won the war ... Discussing films and comics about HUGE heroes, preferably brave ones ... Rob embarrassed when Nate without shame talked about MONSTER STRENGTH and fights, and even more embarrassed, when he found himself aroused by the thought ... Looking trough Doc's archive of scanned physiques ... The possibilities with Morphogenetic Fields ... Taking a swim or two together ... Getting some sun on those young bodies marked by years of rationing ... Nate's eagerness to become big ... "I wish I was more like you, Nate." And the surprisingly insightful answer, which caused him to love him so much: "You don't, Robbie. You wish you were more like how you imagine me to be." Not quite right, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was not quite right. The hug. Rob blushing, ruddy cheeks contrasting to his platinum blond hair ... The brown gemstones that were Nate's eyes gazing at Rob's icy blue eyes, and embracing Rob in his powerful embrace ... Uh! Powerful embrace! Hugged by his hero-friend ... It was the pay, that had convinced them initially, well, mostly ... Eventually they admitted to each other, that Mr. V had found them both online at a website about exercise, strength-sports, films about muscle growth, comics about muscle growth, stories about muscle growth ... Rob's oft repeated joke: ... a repressed middle-class chap and an oppressed working-class lad working for an upper-class madman ... Rob felt good. Body felt good. Been afraid of the chamber. And then the weird, insane days ... The dreamlike, nightmarish, frightening and wonderful days ... Nate and Mr. V taking turns in the chamber at dangerously increasing levels ... Rob having a bad cold, which turned out to be the DNA-altering virus ... His ambivalent feelings ... Betrayed by his now mentally unstable friend Nate holding him while Mr. V gave him an injection and a buzzcut ... Had been able to deactivate two of the mind-implanters. Hadn't been able to deactivate the two mind-implanters Mr. V had hidden somewhere else. Ambivalent feelings ... Rob felt good. Body felt good. Been afraid of the chamber. But now ... Body felt good ... Muscles ... His instincts caused him to shiver pleasantly, expectant, while his reason silently screamed inside him about the dangers and the lack of caution ... Muscles ... lump in his throat ... body sweating profusely ... muscles like Nate ... muscles like his heroes ... to become able to use the strength of hyper marines or comics characters to help people ... His reason to be wary of Doc's prototype ... His instincts and his urge taking it all in ... Allowing the anabolic emmitters and the hypertrophic coils do their work on him ... on his body ... on his physique ... on his – UH! – growing brawn ... He swallowed ... Not quite right, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was not quite right. Mr. V had left training equipment inside the Test Chamber, in one of those unserious gestures ... dreamlike, Rob had picked up dumbbells he knew were far too heavy for him, and he was able to use them, lift them in a manner that demonstrated, that they actually were too light for him now... now, when he had reached another level ... Nate watching him outside, shouting encouraging things ... Rob standing inside, dressed like a boxer because of Mr. V's silly whims, but it didn't matter, because Rob felt good now. Body felt good. His visibly growing physique consisted of indurating, swelling globes of muscles ... His legs forced apart, because of his growing quads and hamstrings, forcing him to change posture ... Him, waddling to the bench, and pressing a barbell beyond his wildest dreams ... Lifting 1000 lbs! Big like Nate! Bigger than Nate! Lump in his troat ... swallowing ... He was anticipating ... waiting for the AI to activate ... His entire body buzzing, every muscle buzzing, every muscle fibre buzzing, every atom of his being buzzing, like the Test Chamber and its anabolic emmitters and hypertrophic coils forced him to surge of muscle-growing power and energy ... Feeling how Nate must have felt just hours and days before ... Yes! Like Nate! His brash and cocky hero-friend, who ... Uh! ... waiting for the AI to activate ... Mr. V carrying Doc into the Test Chamber ... Nate entering again ... All of them! Power increasing! Radiation intensifying! His insane power! His insane strength! Couldn't have thought ... Yes! Becoming a hero with a hero bod, together with Nate! Waiting for what he had programmed the AI to do ... Waiting for the activation of ... of ... UH! The activation of Sketch Number 2137! ACTIVATION OF SKETCH NUMBER 2137!!!! ACTIVATION OF SKETCH NUMBER 2137!!!! ACTIVATION OF SKETCH NUMBER 2137!!!! His orgasm caused him to wake up from his wet dream, and he found Nate close himself, his peaceful and regular breath telling that he was asleep. It wasn't possible to describe the depth of his warm feelings for his husband. His reverie was disturbed by a phone call. Mildly irritated, he answered: "Nelson." A deep voice like a sub-woofer began to talk: "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It must be in the middle of the night where you are, too, but I don't know who to call. My name is Brad Maxxx. 'Hancing has made a mess of my life. You are so darned impressive, and I don't know if anyone else can help me." The deep voice let out a sob. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  12. The Prelude is found HERE The preceding chapter is found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Eight After checking in at the ’Hancing company’s guest-facilities and taking showers, following the company's standard procedure, they had entered the same cinema or movie theatre as last time, but this time, Brad knew what to expect. The company was located in one of those new, growing coastal cities of the Siberian Federation. The Arctic Sea was the hotspot of trade and new opportunities, and it wasn't a coincidence, that the Siberian Federation was known as "Asia's Breadbasket". There was a joke about all combine harvesters – horse-driven or hydrogen-cell driven – to be produced in Siberia. Brad had shivered in excitement. His dreams would come true. * * * The first time they had gone there, Brad had noticed a lot of hot guys: Some of them probably working at oil rigs or gas extraction companies, some of them with the outward demeanour of soccer hooligans. He hadn't expected Siberians to look that hot. The second time he was less surprised. The company was seemingly wealthy, and didn't attempt to hide it. It surrounded its customers with opulence and comfort. While Sir had taken care of the paperwork, Brad had glanced at one of the big screens in the lobby: Something about a conflict between the Third French Empire and the Nigerian Realm over the Solar Power Fields in the Protectorates of South Algeria and Mali. The faces of Napoleon IV and President Dangote briefly flashed on the screen, and then there was something about the United Kingdom of Wessex, East Anglia and Midlands leaving the Geneva Convention in order to ”take back control”, but Brad's attention wandered to the other screens depicting 'Hanced men. Soon. Soon he would look like one of them. He could feel his manhood grow inside his Adidas bottoms. The word ”big” floated through his brain. * * * The first time they went there, the information had overwhelmed them. The first time, Sir wanted him to rejuvenate. Though Brad had found the request strange, he allowed Sir’s wish come true, and he didn’t regret it: His baby face didn’t look mature the way he would have wished himself, but his horniness had reverted to the intense level he had experienced when he was eighteen or nineteen – No: turned up into something even more intense, than when he was eighteen or nineteen. This time, he was Sir’s horny st00pid jockboi. Even more intense. He remembered the scientist they had met last time, Korsakoff, talking about his ultimate goal and Sir’s ultimate goal yet beyond reach, which caused disappointment for a few seconds, until Dr. Korsakoff explained: In order to reach that goal, Brad had to undergo the process in two separate steps. An ordinary man wouldn’t be able to handle the extreme dosages and power levels involved in reaching his ultimate goal, so before taking that step, he needed to become more than an ordinary man. * * * Shivering, with naked feet, and only wearing a short-sleeved compression shirt and a pair of posing trunks, Brad stepped inside the glass cylinder. Dr. Korsakoff closed the door behind him. Now, Brad was alone inside the cylinder, isolated from the rest of humanity. Alone with the hancing process. Alone with his desire. Alone with his urge. ”Big.” The word ”big” floated through his brain, loaded with a significance a baseline man wouldn’t understand, at least not a baseline man outside the ’hancer scene. Loaded with significance: His aim, his goal, his purpose, his burning desire and his deep-seated urge. ”Big.” And then his contradictory feelings returned. ”No!” Not the contradictory feelings! Not the awkwardness he had tried to escape! Not now! He felt warm. Sweat trickled everywhere, because of the injection Dr. Korsakoff had given him more than an hour ago. His body reacted, but his mind was trying to steal his moment of triumph. Not the contradictory feelings! Blurry memory … Only fragments before his first ’hancing. Nice blokes Bob and Vitaly, who ’hanced him for free, and delivered him to Sir. ’Hanced him for free … allowing him to flee his past. His past with the contradictory feelings … He didn’t want to remember how baseline he had been, how weak. That baseline pipsqueak wasn’t him. He was a ’hancer now. He was Sir’s baby-faced jockboi now. He had been ’hanced. He was bigger than most men. ”Big.” He shivered in delight. There was a hissing sound in his breathing-mask, and there was another hissing sound inside the glass cylinder. Dr. Korsakoff had tried to explain all the fancy scientific details, but the details didn’t matter. What mattered was, that he was becoming big. ”Big.” But the feeling of an icy lump in his gut didn’t go away. Weak in the past. Fleeing the past. Fleeing more recent shame. Had to repay Sir. Sir paying for his ’hancing. Sir paying for his food and supplements. Sir’s ’hancer-sized gym. Repaying … Sir’s pitiful asparagus-dick creaming Brad’s buttcheeks … Sir not man enough to reach to Brad’s hole, even less enter it, which was just as well, because deep inside Brad didn’t want Sir to … didn’t want Sir to use him … felt pity for the little Sir … so tiny … so old … not bold enough to ever take up a gym habit himself, not bold enough to try ’hancing himself, only daring to watch a substitute … watch Brad … ogle Brad … Anger awakening … Sir using him and ogling him … Anger swallowing shame … Anger and disdain welling up … Disdain for the weak little pathetic toff, who hadn’t it in him … Not like Brad. Not the courage to take the leap. Not the discipline to pump iron. Not the true urge. Not the true urge of a ’hancer. Not the true urge of a ’hancer like Brad. Brad big now. ”Big.” The humming sound was switched on … increasing in intensity … the sound he was familiar with now, after two ’hancing procedures … humming sound of ’hancing equipment, that would soon … ”Uh!” Oh, yes! The build-up now … Brad swallowed. The build-up now, accompanying the humming sound … He knew what to expect, but he knew that he wouldn’t know what to expect, when the next phase would start soon … The pleasure, when increasing discharges of Hypertrophic energy began to bombard him … bombard his body … bombard his muscles … energize his flesh … The pleasure and the anger and the disdain … Leaving the past beyond … Leaving embarrassing memories of his own weak and feeble past beyond … Leaving the shame beyond … leaving all awkwardness beyond … Become a 100% strength-obsessed mountain of enhanced steel-hard brawn who never suffered from any lack of confidence, and only lived for the pump, only lived for his own pleasure and progress and didn’t have to bother with everyday worries, because his Hulk-daddy was paying … ”Big!” The all-pervading word ”Big”, loaded with a significance a baseline man wouldn’t understand, at least not a baseline man outside the ’hancer scene. Loaded with significance: His aim, his goal, his purpose, his burning desire and his deep-seated urge. To become BIG. Happening now. At last. Finally! Becoming BIG. Yes! Happening! His body! The growth! Happening! Now! Becoming BIG! And the other all-pervading word. The word ”Becoming”. Uh! Yes! He inhaled eagerly. The inhalation gas. The nano-bots he needed. The myostatin-inhibitors he needed. The DNA-alteration circulating within his system now, with no turning back … the irrevocable transformation … who would want to revoke it? Not Brad. Becoming. Yes! The other all-pervading word … ”Becoming!” The warm, inviting sea existing where consciousness meet unconscious sleep reached out for him, and his consciousness tumbled, tumbled, as he had been told to expect, into the depth of visions, memories, sleepiness, when the analgesic formula removed any pain from his skeletal growth … The strange scraping sound of of bone growing faster than it is meant to. A weird sensation of becoming … Taller … Wider … Almost asleep, but only almost, because he could feel himself becoming … Taller … Wider … Memories floating. Memories arising. The commercial before … The film about the available options … The men on the screen moving, smiling at the audience, and a narrator describing the options: ”Each customer want to realise his own unique goal. We are glad to offer our customers a wide range of options, and each option is available with additional features and modifications. We offer you DREAMBOAT – an option highly popular among our customers’ wives, girlfriends or boyfriends, and an option, that will not interfere with duty and interaction at work.” Brad had smirked when he had watched the men filmed to exemplify what the DREAMBOAT option included. He already was well beyond the physical shape of the winking and smiling fitness models (with their stylish hairdos) going under the DREAMBOAT label. He was already well beyond their level … bigger than them … Uh! yes! Bigger! Blood rushed to his dick, at the realisation of his own physical superiority to these ’hanced men. This was not the option he wanted to go for, and he had felt relief, when Sir didn’t gave any sign of going for a lesser option. Uh! ”Big!” The narrator had continued his speech: ”The second option was initially designed to help the discerning VIP enhance his bodyguards or bouncers to a suitable level of operative efficiency, but it has since become the option of choice for any customer who aim at a masculine physique that will be outstanding both at work and at leisure. It also come with loyalty implants for those VIP’s who want to ensure, that their men are unfailingly trustworthy. If this is your option of choice, ask for BOUNCER.” The men on the screen had moved confidently, some of them wearing expensive suits struggling to contain the bulging physiques inside. Another bulge at chest-height told about the handguns hidden inside the jackets. Still no sign of Sir going for this option. Yes! Although a tough-looking option, Brad had wished for something more than this. Something more. Something bigger. Something more … extreme. Another scene on the screen, another persuasive description: ”If from news or if from real-life encounters, the presence of hyper-marines among us changed which ideals men would deem possible, for others or for themselves. The male physique beyond former limits is now available for civilian customers. For the man with a sense of duty or for the Bad Boy out there, go for the option PATRIOT. It is also a mandatory preparation phase for any of our remaining options.” The swag was overwhelming, stunning. The men on the screen were all sporting military-inspired haircuts, and none of them was shorter than 6’4’’, most of them taller than 6’8’’. The sight of their necks and traps had mesmerised Brad the first time he had watched the commercial, and the allure of the men’s confident gazes enchanted him. Quite a few of them were wearing the clothes usually associated with the Bad Boy sub-culture, within which ’hancing had become extremely popular. At their first visit in Siberia, Dr. Korsakoff hadn’t allowed Brad to go any further, because the dangers surrounding the remaining options, so, last time, Brad had reached the option PATRIOT with the additional rejuvenation Sir had demanded. Sound of bone. Taller. Wider. His baby-faced PATRIOT physique. Becoming taller, wider. Hissing gas. Breathing. Inhaling the gas for internal use. Surrounded by the gas for external use. Taller. Wider. The all-pervading word: ”Becoming!” He returned to consciousness. Returned to the delicious awareness of his 7 feet body, to the exciting awareness of his still growing 7 feet body inside the glass cylinder, to the sound of raw meet stuffed into a leather sofa, which was the sound of his own swiftly increasing MUSCLE MASS. Returning to the all-pervading and voluptious feeling of …. Of … … BECOMING! With another hissing sound and with a squabbling sound, the exterior gas was now gradually replaced by the solution, Dr. Korsakoff had mentioned. The solution of anabolic salts. Brad felt movement. The cylinder moved from a standing position to a reclining position, and it was adjusted, lowered, into the structure Dr. Korsakoff had called a ”ModPod”. Brad continued to inhale the gas, while his pleasantly convulsing body became submerged in the solution of anabolic salts. Warm green luminous liquid through which bolts of hypertrophic energy bombarded his defenceless body. Bombarded! Yes! Charging him! Charging him with the energy to grow! Charging his ever-growing, yes even more growing, strength. His … Uh! Primed for the … Primed for the dangerous phases beyond … The dangerous phases not every ’hancer dare to explore. The dangerous phases of BECOMING only available to those men who has overcome their fear – the men, inside which the true, deep insatiable urge to BECOME BIG was burning. The one-pointed urge … To BECOME BIG … The phases beyond … His body began to shiver pleasantly, and a buzzing sound was building. He was eager now. Eager to embrace whatever the buzzing sound meant. The build-up. Primed. Beyond. And then it exploded. His mind exploded in ecstatic pleasure, wrath, embodiment, masculinity. His body … It felt like his body was hit, but not in a bad way … so hard to think now … He … The anabolic power streaming into him and the hypertrophic energy crackling … His bulgingly muscular body becoming harder, even harder, and growing in all directions as he became wider, taller, beyond comprehension. Hulking out of the struggling compression shirt … which was the purpose for the shirt to begin with … The sheer strength … His man-rod obscenely stretching his poser to the utmost, happily throbbing as all his muscles were throbbing by incomprehendible energy and power. Expanding. Evolving. Growing. Throbbing. His body. His entire body. Growing into an ecstatic state overwhelming his mind. Overwhelming. Overwhelming. The commercial had called the next step SUPER POWER, and the men on the screen had looked like real-life superheroes. Sir had moaned at the sight of these men, and the narrator had gone on and one about ”emulating one’s heroes”, but it was when Brad had watched the last and remaining option, he had known … Uh! Yes, it was when he had watched the imposing, unfathomable mountains of sheer muscle mass in the next option, he had known … that he craved the option known as ”MEGAMASS XTREME 3000” At last! Now! Undergoing MEGAMASS XTREME 3000! Watched the goal towards which his deep-seated urges and desires were directed. Leaving the past beyond … Leaving embarrassing memories of his own weak and feeble past beyond … Leaving the shame beyond … leaving all awkwardness beyond … Become a 100% strength-obsessed mountain of enhanced steel-hard brawn who never suffered from any lack of confidence, and only lived for the pump, only lived for his own pleasure and progress and didn’t have to bother with everyday worries. Nothing mattered now. Only growth mattered. ONLY GROWTH MATTERED! Yes! The meat-slabs, that were his pecs now, his chest the chest of a superhero or supervillain. Meat-slabs. His palm rubbing his rockhard baseball-abs. His palm clenching his unyielding steel-hard bowling-ball bicepses … His bull-neck … FUCK! YES! EXTREME! Even more! His 8 feet body! His fukking 8 feet body! He wouldn’t know what to expect. He had entered the unknown. Alone inside the cylinder, isolated from the rest of humanity. Alone with the hancing process. Alone with his desire. Alone with his urge. Beyond humanity. Superior. Overwhelming. ”Big.” Becoming. He remembered, when he and Sir had both agreed, that Brad would undergo MEGAMASS XTREME 3000! At last! Now! Undergoing MEGAMASS XTREME 3000! Mind! Body! Exploding! Superior! Veins crawling all over him. Cock throbbing. Mind throbbing. Muscles throbbing. His entire body throbbing. Uncontrollable, limitless, energising, empowering … BECOMING! POWER-BRAWN The rushing sound of his pulse in his ears and the feeling of his pulse in his neck. He was an expanding titan. For a moment, fear had him in his grip, because the transformation was uncontrollable, but he didn’t want to control it anymore. He wanted his wrath and his pleasure, his strength and his masculinity to manifest as flesh: Convulsing, throbbing, growing flesh, through which invigouring power let his inner muscle-beast out: Yeah, the muscle-beast. The smug, confident, undefeatable, virile, power-buzzing muscle-beast, which had lurked inside him for so long. He relished in his steel-bending and rock-crushing strength, and the struggling poser snapped. Entirely naked, his vein-covered monstrosity of a body floated and bobbed inside the ModPod and was a living conductor of hypertrophic energy and anabolic power. He was a living battery, charged with the power current of thousands power houses, and he was a power house himself. The power of vitality itself filled him limitlessly. Nuclear bombs exploded in his mind, when the uncontrollable power transformed into the monster-bruiser he had dreamed about. An ineffable powerblaze stormed in his every fibre. He brimmed of unlimited and unconquerable might. He was strength. He was power. He was virility. He was brawn, he was muscle. He was pure masculinity manifest as unyielding flesh. He was now … BECOMING He was now … MEGAMASS XTREME He was now PERFECTION BEYOND ALL … Mindless muscle-frenzied ecstacy enrapted him, because he was BECOMING PERFECTION BEYOND ALL LIMITS!!!!!!!! * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  13. Absman420

    transformation POLLINATION

    (Hello, friends! I'm posting this CLASSIC ABSMAN story in anticipation of posting the erotic novel that grew out of it. POLLINATION has inspired two comic book adaptations and a slew of fanfic! If this is your first time in the Garden, take your time to stop and smell the flowers...) POLLINATION by absman420 If you expected dumb ol' Mike Milliano to explain the growth-rate of local real estate or the sudden value of property in this traditionally rural area -- you know, the BIG picture -- you were expecting far too much. All Mike Milliano understood was that he had work framing houses for the next twenty weeks, and that it paid enough for him to live through the construction worker's off-season. Other than that, all Mike Milliano cared about was his pick-up truck, his next beer, and what little pussy he could find in this shit-ass flyspeck of a town. He knew this area well, where he grew up. As a boy, Mike and his buddies used to come up here and ride their dirt bikes. It'd been unspoiled land then, lightly forested. If anybody'd actually owned it, he didn't know who -- maybe one of the few farmers that had dotted the landscape in those days -- didn't matter. Now here he was as an adult, clearing that same land, building houses for snotty rich folks who had no history, no connection at all. He tried to pretend he wasn't feeling nostalgia when he slipped away during his lunch hour to walk through the nearby woods. Real men controlled their emotions. Now, sitting at the base of an old oak tree that overlooked a steep, forested slope, Mike Milliano smoked a cigarette and reflected. He wasn't a big man, although he wasn't in bad shape -- working construction kept him fit enough, if he'd hadn't been losing his battle with beer -- but nothing like when he'd played ball in high school. Now, a soft gut rolled over the top of his jeans, and though it bothered him, he did nothing to change it. He still had good, thick arms, and showed them off when he could, but he'd definitely lost his edge. He'd kept his attitude, though. A gruff, unforgiving, obstinate man, he fought as often as he fucked. And he got the same peculiar satisfaction from each. Smirking, Mike removed his well-worn baseball cap and wiped his forehead with the back of one heavily callused hand. Nothing in this old forest but memories, he thought. Time to head back to work. As he was about to stand, a particular flower caught his eye. Now, Mike Milliano was not the type of guy that normally noticed plants -- to him, flowers were just another tool to get into some chick's pants -- but this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. The way it was shaped, it looked like a big dick stickin' up out of the ground. Tube-shaped, like a Venus Flytrap a little, but with the gentle curve of its blossom, it looked exactly like a half-erect cock. A big cock, no less -- the flower was about a foot long. The base was a deep red, which veined its way up until it reached the soft pink "head" -- which was really just a little fold of petal over the end of the bud. When he got close enough, he noticed the half-exposed bulb in the ground, appearing as the flower's swollen ball-sac. He snorted a simple laugh. It's a shame he didn't have a camera -- none of the guys would believe this -- a flower that looks like a dick. He could probably make something off a picture like that. He caught the fragrance in a couple of steps -- frankly, it smelled like old sex, sort of pungent and spicy. All that did was increase his amusement -- it didn't just look like a big ol' dick, it smelled like one, too. Squatting down next to the plant, careful that his workboots didn't accidentally crush it, Mike Milliano leaned in. Certainly, he'd never been this close to a real dick -- and hopefully never would be -- but he almost couldn't help thinking of the image. Suppressing the slightest bit of a gag, Mike brought his mustachioed face close to the bud. It moved -- twitched -- he'd swear it. How could...? Suddenly, the flower before him seemed to burst -- no, actually, to burp -- to cum? -- and a good amount of pollen dusted Mike Milliano's nose, mouth, and mustache. He couldn't help but breathe it in, to taste it, dry and powdery, coating the inside of his mouth and nose. His first instinct was to gasp, which made him breath a little more of it in; he pulled his head back a bit, and brought his hand to his mouth. Brushing the pollen out of his mustache with his thick fingers, he mumbled, "Fucking plants." This close to crushing the stupid flower with his boot, he thought better of it. He could still come up tomorrow and take a picture of it -- a picture of a plant that looks like a guy's package would be worth somethin' -- THEN he could crush the shit out of it. Besides, it wasn't like the silly thing hurt him -- it just launched pollen in his face. Mike Milliano laughed only because no one else was around. His pride was hardly on the line over a fucking flower. Still brushing the last of the shit from his face, he hiked out of the forest and went back to work. ********************************************************************************** "I'm tellin' ya, Smitty, I feel fuckin' awesome! I ain't felt this good since I played ball in high school!" Smitty gave a non-committal grunt and took another swig of beer. Sitting there on the tailgate of his truck, he'd watched Mike Milliano put up an entire lower floor of a house by himself in less time than it took a crew of four. Impressive, but why work that hard, especially now, well after five o'clock, after the rest of the crew had gone home? Mike Milliano stepped off the foundation and walked toward Smitty's truck. There was something different about him, but Smitty wasn't sure what. He looked... well, he looked BIGGER than normal. Heavier. He looked like he'd packed on about ten pounds of muscle since lunch. The thought was so stupid that Smitty put it out of his head. "I don't know what the fuck it is," Mike said, unconsciously adjusting his balls. "I mean, I feel fuckin' great!" Smitty tossed him a beer from the cooler which he caught with a casual ease. He DID look bigger. His arms hadn't been that dense, had they? Mike Milliano popped the top of his beer and took a healthy swig. When he brought the can down, he studied his foreman, as if he debated telling Smitty some heavy shit. "Do you think I look bigger?" he asked, flexing his muscles to illustrate. "I think I've gotten bigger, Smitty." Smitty grunted again. "I was just thinkin' the same thing," he said. "It's weird," Mike continued, rubbing his free hand over his torso. "I don't know why, but it's like, all afternoon I could FEEL myself growing, getting stronger, gaining energy. I can't describe it -- it just feels so fuckin' great!" "What do you think caused it?" Smitty asked. "Have you come into contact with anything unusual?" Mike Milliano paused. Literally, he stopped feeling himself mid-stroke. The look on his face was confused, contemplative -- which was not an often-used adjective to describe Mike Milliano. "You know, come to think of it," he said, "I did." He touched his fingers to his mustache, pinching his lip. Smitty leaned forward. "What?" Mike Milliano was broken from his thought. He looked at Smitty and smiled. "You'll never believe it if I just tell you," he said, suddenly walking toward the forest behind the building project. "C'mon, I'll show ya!" Smitty snorted a laugh, but followed, not forgetting to take an extra beer with him. ***************************************************************************************************** "It looks like a big cock." Mike Milliano laughed. "That's what I thought." He squatted down on one side of the flower -- Smitty did the same on the other. "And the way that root there is exposed?" Mike continued, pointing it out. "It looks like the thing's balls." The two of them laughed together, in that juvenile humor kind of way that men share. Smitty took a swig of beer. "So, what's that got to do with you lookin' bigger?" Mike Milliano was quiet, but intense, like he was exposing his secret -- like he was confessing a great sin. He even leaned in toward Smitty, as if someone were eavesdropping in the middle of the forest -- as if the flower could hear them. "Buddy," he said, "I think I'm having a reaction to this thing's pollen." "What?" "Seriously, man," Mike continued, rubbing his hands together. "I was lookin' at this plant at lunch today, and it spit all this pollen in my face. I think this," he said, flexing his left biceps, "is what happened because of it." Smitty snorted. "That's crazy, man." "Maybe," Mike Milliano muttered. "But you asked me if I'd come in contact with anything unusual, and this is the only thing. Look, there's one way to find out for sure. You sniff it." "What?" "Sniff it," Mike said. "If it happens to you, then we know it's the plant. If not, then it's somethin' else -- but I think it's the plant. It's gotta be. So, sniff it. What's the worst that could happen? This?" He flexed his upper-body in a quick Most-Muscular shot -- he HAD gotten bigger. Maybe even bigger in the fifteen minutes since Smitty'd first noticed it. "It feels fuckin' great, Smitty." Smitty rolled his eyes. "This is stupid," he said, but it didn't stop him from leaning in to smell the flower. On the off-chance that Mike Milliano wasn't kidding, Smitty wanted to cover his bet. No man would mind havin' a build like that, especially if he didn't have to work for it. He put his face right up next to the flower's "cock-head" -- the fold of petal over the tip -- and breathed deeply. Nothing. The plant sat there, inanimate, unconcerned. If it could show less interest, Smitty couldn't imagine how. Worse, its fragrance was hardly pleasant. Frankly, it smelled like stale cum. "Okay," Smitty said, sitting up. "What's the joke?" Mike Milliano shook his head. "It's not a joke," he said earnestly. "I swear to you, man. I just leaned in like this..." Then, as Mike Milliano pushed his cap back and brought his head close to the blossom, the thing reacted. The flower seemed to shift toward him, as if it recognized him. Just as Smitty saw the movement, but before he could speak a warning, the flower shot a huge wad of dusty pollen right into Mike Milliano's face. "Mike!" But Mike Milliano's reaction was exactly the opposite of what Smitty was expecting. Instead of coughing and trying to expel the pollen, Mike Milliano was trying to get all of it inside -- he snorted the dust caked in his mustache, licked it off his upper lip and the fingers that he used for brushing. He was trying not to waste a bit. Smitty thought he looked like one of them heroin addicts handling their fix. What the fuck...? "Yes!" Mike Milliano shouted, standing, holding his arms out at his sides and flexing his back. "Oh, YES!" Smitty bent down at the plant. This time, when he leaned in close, the blossom seemed to turn away, as if it were snubbing him. When he looked back up, watching his crewman and buddy go from pose to pose, he realized -- with no small amount of homophobic horror -- that Mike Milliano had an erection. Smitty could see its outline plainly beneath Mike's tightening jeans. Obvious. When he flexed his abs, hands behind his head, Mike Milliano's eyes rolled back and his hips bucked uncontrollably. When he groaned, a growing wet spot appeared in the crotch of his jeans, proof of his orgasm. Mike Milliano smiled. "Oh, yeah," he purred, his voice relaxed. "Feels fuckin' great." He reached down and adjusted his package, touching the soaking stain in his pants. Mike Milliano didn't seem embarrassed at all. He just looked at Smitty, squatting there next to the plant, and kept on smiling. Ironically, it was the seams tearing open in Mike Milliano's jeans that broke the moment. "I better get the fuck home before I'm drivin' naked," he said, fingering the tear, studying it as if proud instead of amazed. The mass was becoming more and more evident in his thighs. He walked over to Smitty, adjusting his gait to accommodate his new size, and offered a hand. Smitty was speechless. There was now no denying that Mike Milliano had changed. Still in the same grungy baseball cap, but now his t-shirt was too tight, too form-fitting for even a guy in construction, showing a body normally produced through military obsession -- rock-solid abs and bulbous chest, round, wide deltoids and sloping traps. Listen, his pants were still tearing from the growth in his legs -- each step, each flex, opened them a little further -- the seams couldn't contain the mass. From Smitty's angle, squatting there looking up at Mike Milliano, there was no way to avoid seeing Mike's package, either. It seemed to Smitty that even THAT was growing -- a thought he would've considered ridiculous only a few minutes ago. How long before the fly gave out? Or before Mike Milliano spontaneously orgasmed again? The thought horrified Smitty. Mike Milliano's balls were the size of eggs. Even as Smitty reluctantly took the offered hand and allowed Mike Milliano to pull him to his feet, he briefly toyed with the idea of destroying the plant -- stamping it into the ground -- just a fleeting thought that he might be actually SAVING his friend from something, though he couldn't imagine what. Instead, he asked, his voice a little shaky, "Are you okay?" Mike Milliano hadn't released Smitty's hand after helping him up -- the moment was becoming uncomfortably long for two straight men -- then Mike Milliano put his free hand on Smitty's neck, intimate, like he was getting ready for a kiss. He had that look in his eye. "I'm sorry the plant doesn't like you," he said. "But I still do." He winked, then Mike Milliano released his grip and started to walk out of the forest, leaving Smitty standing there stunned, unable to move. Smitty said, "Mike?" and Milliano spun around, still smirking, clearly enjoying the affect he was having on poor Smitty. "Are you okay?" Smitty asked again slowly, a little more deliberately. Mike Milliano laughed, and flexed his upper-body, straining the already-burdened t-shirt. "Never been better," he said, and motioned with his head. "C'mon." Smitty tried not to look at Mike Milliano's thickening ass as he followed him out of the forest, but the sound of the tearing material kept drawing his focus. ********************************************************************************************************** Okay, he didn't have a great body -- he never had, not even at his peak -- and he wasn't particularly handsome, either. Frankly, he'd heard a few too many jokes about his hairline recently. As Smitty stood in front of his bathroom mirror, all he could see were faults and weaknesses. Why didn't the fucking flower want him? It didn't make any sense -- well, NONE of it made any sense -- but the idea that a plant could somehow be particular, that was ridiculous. That the flower would react to one person alone, the idea that the flower could know the difference between one person and the next was baffling. That it could make a guy more muscular was laughable in itself. But what did Smitty know about botany? He couldn't even keep a houseplant alive. He was content to simply drink his beer and watch his collection of adult video -- not that he found much comfort in either at the moment. He couldn't stop thinking about that damn plant! It'd SNUBBED him. How could that have been? As Smitty stared in the mirror after his shower, assessing his physical weaknesses for the millionth time, he began the comforting process of rationalization. Skipping ahead -- there's no need to bore anyone with Smitty's leaps of logic -- here's where he finally arrived: it wasn't that the plant didn't want him. No. What happened was, he'd sniffed the plant, or brought his head into proximity, whatever begins the process, and Mike Milliano just happened to have his face in the way when the plant expelled its pollen. If Smitty had just kept his head there a little longer, HE would've gotten the pollen. HE would've been the one growing more muscular. It wasn't that the plant was particular. No. Smitty just hadn't shown enough patience. What he needed was another chance. He needed to go alone, without Mike Milliano tagging along. He needed to give the plant the proper amount of time. A fair chance. For sure, if he sniffed the plant again, and waited long enough, he'd get the pollen. He'd get the growth. So then, at the first hint of light in the sky, Smitty headed toward the site. Purposely, he wore loose-fitting clothes -- he wanted to make sure his jeans stayed ON through his growth. Not like the way Mike Milliano's had exploded just as they'd reached Mike's truck, exposing his gross size and obscene new package. Worse, the way he seemed to revel in it -- Mike Milliano had hardly been shy about showing his erection when it'd happened. Maybe Smitty couldn't admit it outloud, but in truth, he was jealous. He couldn't believe how jealous he was. It kept him awake throughout the night -- it motivated him now. When he pulled into the building site, he was surprised to discover that he had a partial erection himself. The sky was pink, the forest a dark silhouette before it. Smitty impatiently smoked a cigarette as he waited for the sun to crest the horizon, to give him enough light to see. He didn't know these woods as well as Mike Milliano did -- he'd grown up in the next town over. Finally, Smitty flicked his butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his workboot. He could see well enough, certainly well enough to find a flower. He hiked into the woods the same way he and Mike Milliano had yesterday afternoon. He stayed to the path, even if it was a little dark. The shadows of the forest heightened the sense of mystery and excitement. Smitty couldn't believe the power of his erection. Because of the lack of light, he heard the scene before he saw it. It sounded like a man's low moan, like the approach of orgasm. What the hell...? Smitty was careful, hiding behind a great tree and taking a safe peek. The sun had risen enough to cast light into the small glade where the plant grew, so he could see all too easily. And what he saw horrified him. And because he could so easily see, the image was all too clear. Burned in his eyes, it would stay with him forever. There by the flower, naked but for workboots and baggy gym pants down around his ankles, knelt Mike Milliano. He was gigantic. Bigger than the bodybuilders in the magazines, more virile than the wrestlers on TV, Mike Milliano must've weighed three-hundred pounds, his musculature grown to unbelievable proportion, thick and heavy. But what stunned Smitty was what Mike Milliano was doing. He was kneeling before the plant, his massive legs on either side of it, with his cock buried deeply in the blossom. He wasn't fucking it -- that probably would've killed Smitty -- but it seemed like the plant was giving him head. It looked like Mike Milliano's cock fit perfectly in the foot-long, curving flower, and the moans coming from lips sounded like a man getting the best blow-job he'd ever had. His huge chest heaved. He rolled his head, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, lost in apparent ecstasy. His muscles still grew, and he softly flexed them in turn, his pecs, his biceps, his wide, wide back. Smitty couldn't move -- couldn't react -- all he could do was watch, try to process what he was seeing. It was almost too much. He watched helplessly as Mike Milliano's tempo increased. But when Mike Milliano suddenly stood, holding his arms out to his sides and flexing his entire body, every single over-grown muscle at once, when Mike Milliano threw his head back and suddenly orgasmed, screaming, shooting rope after rope of cum from his huge foot-long cock, coating the forest floor, Smitty found the strength to run. He didn't stop until he was back in town, at the local diner, where, because of the look of absolute horror on his face, the withered old waitress Sharlene gave him a shot of whiskey from her personal stash below the counter. He had to have two more before he had the nerve to face going back. ******************************************************************************************************* Mike Milliano knew what he had to do -- the thing had a funny way of communicating with him, like with pictures and feelings -- images. He couldn't describe it -- he certainly couldn't understand it. But he didn't need to. All he had to do was protect it, not understand it. He adjusted the pouch of his boxer-briefs to give better support to his balls, pulled up his baggy gym-pants and headed back to his truck -- Home Depot would be open soon enough. Stepping over the wilted flower, flattened and dead, unnecessary, Mike Milliano left the forest. Some of the other workmen were arriving on the site as he drove away. He waved to them with a much more muscular arm than he'd had yesterday -- he'd be back, and they'd get a clearer understanding of what had happened to him. He hadn't slept last night, either. Between the muscle-growth and the spontaneous orgasms and the cocaine-like buzz that had flooded his entire being, Mike Milliano had no time for sleep. The buzz had kept him from being concerned -- instead, it had been more like an exciting, wild ride -- the fulfillment of an adolescent dream. A comic-book transformation turned real. He'd had no fear. Why should he? He'd continued to grow throughout the evening, able to feel himself thickening, gaining mass. Look at him! Thank God he'd found that flower! Around midnight, the growth-spurt slowed, and finally let off. By that time, he'd weighed over two-hundred fifty pounds, and if he'd been paunchy before, there was no evidence of bodyfat on him now. His abs were incredible, drawing the eye to his narrow hips, which in turn lead to his dominant package, his unbelievable cock, his huge balls. That'd been when he'd noticed the shape of his new semi-erect cock, the slope -- it had been exactly the same as the plant. As a matter of fact, his cock could probably slip perfectly inside the blossom... He couldn't stop thinking about the plant. As his buzz had faded, he'd thought about it more and more. "Third time's the charm," he'd thought, beginning his own process of rationalization. He hadn't felt the need to be any bigger -- not that he would mind -- but what he really wanted had been the fuckin' buzz the thing had given him. It had been so strong, it'd reminded him of the crash after doing too much coke -- the impossible desire for more. Finally, Mike Milliano hadn't been able to take it. At four o'clock in the morning, after endless posing and modeling and hand-jobs to pass the time, he threw on his baggy gym-pants and workboots, grabbed a flashlight, and left for the forest. The moon had offered a surprising amount of light, so Mike Milliano had found his way through the construction site easily, the frames of half-built houses rising like prehistoric skeletons in the dark. He'd parked a little way further down the road than normal -- he hadn't wanted anyone to see his truck if they'd driven by. He hadn't even used the flashlight until he was well into the forest -- he hadn't wanted anyone calling the police because they'd seen someone lurking around up here. That would've been an unnecessary complication. He'd found the flower effortlessly -- he hadn't even needed the flashlight -- he'd known exactly where to go. There, waiting for the pre-dawn light, the dew had already begun to form on its bud -- that huge and beautiful cock, as perfect as the one Mike Milliano now had. He'd walked toward it as if hypnotized, with a stupid grin on his face, a loving and adoring look in his eye, his gratitude as powerful as his erection. He'd left the flashlight on the ground, spotlighting the plant like the star of some Broadway show. On his hands and knees, Mike Milliano had opened his mouth wide and took the blossom in. He hadn't cared what it looked like, a grown man taking what looked like a cock in his mouth, because he hadn't wanted to miss a bit of pollen. He'd wanted the whole hit. If he'd looked like a fag doin' it, then he did. And the plant had responded. In time with Mike Milliano's breathing, it'd launched its pollen. Every bit had gone into his lungs -- the blow job-like position had been a good idea. A cock in his mouth had seemed surprisingly natural. If he'd thought the buzz was intense before, it'd been nothing compared to what he felt at that moment, when the growth had begun. The feeling of gaining mass -- of thickening -- had overwhelmed him. He'd sat up on his haunches, enjoying it. Looking down at the flower, and at his semi-erect dick hanging almost next to it, he'd realized that he WOULD fit exactly inside the blossom -- his dick had gotten that big. The idea had seemed so right that, before his buzz-addled brain could stop him, he'd instinctively followed it. He'd slipped his cock into the velvety softness of the plant. Mike Milliano had been right, his cock had fit perfectly. He could feel the flower's stamen tickle his piss-slit. He could feel it slip inside. He could feel it growing up into his cock -- into his balls -- but he'd shown no concern. It'd felt so fucking good. And then, it'd come into him -- the Symbiote, the creature itself, the whatever-it-was that had been living in the bulb. Mike Milliano had been able to feel it come up through his cock, slippery like a snake, and make its way down, settling in the base of his balls, curling around his nuts, somehow connecting to him. And he'd understood. Images -- feelings -- a history had unfolded in his mind. It'd shown an explosion, massive, on a planetary scale -- spores in ice, hurtling through space -- hibernation, a deep, long, empty sleep -- a hundred years, a thousand, immeasurable -- cold -- then, entering THIS planet's atmosphere, the re-awakening -- taking root, beginning to search for a host, a Protector. It had all come into Mike Milliano's mind in an instant -- the Symbiote had spoken to him. A defenseless creature, the Symbiote would find a host organism willing to serve as the its Protector, keeping the delicate Symbiote safe. In exchange, the Symbiote would advance the Protector to his genetic limit, maximizing his abilities, his strength, and his sexual potency as well. Mike Milliano had seen the trade-off as more than fair -- he'd been only too glad to accept the Symbiote completely -- and so they'd joined together. The Symbiote had given him the best orgasm of his life, then -- Mike Milliano shot his seed all over the forest floor. Hopefully, he thought, they thought together, it would take root. Now, in his truck driving to Home Depot, gently cupping his balls so the Symbiote would be more comfortable, Mike Milliano ran over the list of things he had to buy to give the Symbiote what it wanted. Mike Milliano knew that great rewards were coming. ********************************************************************************************************* Finally the sun was completely up, so Smitty couldn't put it off any longer. He was the foreman -- he HAD to go to work. Whatever he'd seen, whatever he'd thought he'd seen, it was only one man, and Smitty had a responsibility to the REST of the crew. It didn't stop him from calling the lead carpenter on his cell. No, Jonas hadn't seen Mike Milliano at all that morning, though some of the other guys said they'd seen him driving off earlier. Smitty said he was on his way and hung up, surprised at his level of relief. He'd wanted a better body, true, but what he'd seen in the forest that morning thoroughly horrified him -- and not just the homophobic part. He didn't want anything at that price. It took Smitty about fifteen minutes to drive to the site. He spent that time debating whether he was glad or not that the plant hadn't picked him in the first place. What had it done to Mike Milliano? And where had he gone? He parked his truck next to the trailer that served as their make-shift office -- the crew, at work on various buildings, waved or hollered "Morning!" -- everyone greeted the foreman. And everybody was busy -- they were working awfully hard this morning, Smitty noted -- someone must've seen him coming and gave the word. Nobody on this team busted their ass until the coffee was gone or the boss was present, and maybe not even then. Then he saw it, back by the edge of the forest, Mike Milliano's pickup, black and shining like new in the morning sunshine. Where was...? Smitty approached the truck cautiously, looking around the site -- the only movement were the men working. The only sound... "Smitty!" A deep, heavy bass. A voice he'd heard but never heard. Smitty turned around, as saw him coming out of the forest. It was Mike Milliano, for sure -- or it had been Mike Milliano once. Smitty had never seen a man as large, as muscular as the beast that walked toward him. Mike Milliano's face, yes, but heavier, the jaw so much wider -- he still wore that stupid baseball cap, which meant his head hadn't grown, but that was the only thing. His neck and traps were so swollen that he looked almost cartoony. Even in the baggy gympants, the size of his legs was obvious, as well as the size of his genitalia. Yet even with the difficulty of getting his thighs around each other, Mike Milliano moved with an athletic gait, like a warrior. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt that didn't begin to cover his abs, that could barely contain his mountainous pecs. And his arms -- good Lord God, his arms! Bowling balls for biceps, hocks of hams for forearms -- his hands, his thick fingers were filthy, as if he'd been digging in the dirt. Smitty hoarsely whispered, "Mike?" Milliano smiled, cupping his balls through the thin cotton material of his gympants. "And more," he said, his voice deep -- his neck was so big, no wonder it had dropped in pitch. "What's that thing done to you?" Mike Milliano went from pose to pose, displaying those ridiculous muscles. "Completed me," he said, again adjusting his package. "What do ya think, Smitty? We're fuckin' amazing, aren't we?" Smitty motioned to Mike Milliano's dirty hands. "What are you doing, Mike?" he asked. "What's going on?" Mike Milliano gestured for Smitty to come closer. "C'mere," he said, then sighed impatiently. "We're not gonna hurt ya, Smitty. We just wanna show ya." He cupped his balls one more time. "We promise." Smitty tentatively stepped toward the giant and his pickup truck. Mike Milliano brushed the excess dirt from his hands as he waited, then gestured for Smitty to look in the bed. Smitty sighed, and finally did. "Our seed took root," Mike Milliano said proudly. There, in the bed of the truck, were almost a dozen clay pots, each of them filled with a plant exactly like the one that Mike Milliano had shown him yesterday in the forest. "Oh my God," Smitty said, as the panic of realization started in the pit of his stomach. But before he could even really react, one of the plants -- not the one closest to him, he noticed, a strange detail to remember -- which he would, for the rest of his life -- one turned toward him, literally, as if taking aim, and then shot a load of dust and pollen that hit Smitty square in the face. No! "Yes!" shouted Mike Milliano. He would scream -- Smitty breathed in to scream -- but coated his throat with even more of the stuff. Oh, shit! Oh, shit! "We just want to re-populate," said Mike Milliano simply. "We're not gonna hurt anyone." Panicked, Smitty ran. And as he ran, he tried to wipe the shit off his unshaven face. But it proved impossible -- it was gritty. It stuck. Trying to get it off just got more of it in. Smitty went to the first person he could find: Jonas. The nearly-obese head carpenter was working on the foundation of House Six, the one nearest the forest. Smitty called to him. "Jonas!" Jonas turned, and Smitty's horror rose a notch. Jonas had the remnants of pollen in his thick black beard. He smiled, and licked a little more of it off his upper lip, from beneath his mustache. "Morning, Smitty!" he said amiably. "Hey, you wanted to know. Milliano got here about fifteen minutes ago, right after you called. But I see you've already found him." "Oh my God..." Jonas smiled again, unconsciously adjusting his balls beneath his overalls. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm really startin' to feel it now, Smitty. And Milliano's right. It's pretty fuckin' amazing!" Smitty almost cried. He ran from guy to guy, searched out the whole crew, all eight of them, but Mike Milliano had gotten them first. Every single one of them had been blasted by that damn pollen -- and not one of them seemed the slightest bit concerned. And the thing of it was, after about a half hour, Smitty wasn't concerned, either. As a matter of fact, by the end of the day, he was feeling so good that he was more than happy to take the potted plant home with him. He actually felt kind of protective of it. He let it ride in his lap to keep it safe.
  14. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter is found HERE PREFACE No. The Aardvarks, of which Rob is a member, does not exist IRL. It is a figment of my imagination, and so are its 19th century founders. They do have a resemblance of reality, though. Don't worry, we will soon return to what's happening to Brad/Max half a planet away. My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter seven "Bye Nate. I'll probably come home one hour later, because Big Jim will receive the second degree tonight." Rob stood close to the door, wearing a tuxedo and carrying a bag with some books and some silk ribbons. "Glad to hear. Hope he'll enjoy it." "Still no possibility to see your application some day soon? I shouldn't ask, actually: New candidates are supposed to take the initiative themselves." "You know me, Rob. You're the best man I've ever known; Jim is reliable, Cyrus is a great kid and Rodriguez is like my Gramps was, but I'm still afraid, that I wouldn't fit in. Where I grew up, fraternalism was something for the upper classes – those who were left after the Crisis – and even if I'm affluent now, thanks to Vin's foresight before he lost his mind, I don't feel relaxed around posh people. I don't want to be looked down at." "No one would look down at you. The idea is to overcome class prejudice. We have members from all walks of life." "But isn't it terribly old-fashioned and strange and full of funny handshakes? And shady?" Rob sighed. "I can't vouch for, what other orders do, but The Aardvarks frown at nepotism. There's even a part of the Constitution and by-laws that state that anyone found guilty of using the Chapter for mercenary purposes will be expelled. I enjoy the old-fashioned language. It connects me with history, and our founders were such a fascinating bunch of idealistic eccentrics. I hope, that you'll not feel abandoned?" "It's ok. I'll watch the new Bond movie. It's a remake of Gold will never die tomorrow." * * * The room was almost dark. The silence was broken by a knock from a gavel. ”Is the Esteemed Outer Tiler present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Outer Tiler, where is your proper station?” ”Outside the door, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To guard the door from eavesdroppers, vicious men and those for whom the noble truths of aardvarkdom are yet a mystery.” ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of an Outer Tiler share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” ”What is the sign of your office?” ”A sword, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”You have my permission to repair to your proper station. The Esteemed Inner Sentinel will let you know, when the Chapter is duly opened and, if needed, raised for business in higher degrees.” ”Is the Esteemed Inner Sentinel present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Inner Sentinel, where is your station?” ”Inside the door, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To guard the Chapter from the vices, foibles and disunity of the mundane world, to allow tested and proven Brethren of the proper degree to enter, even to allow proper Chapter officers accompanying properly invited candidates to the latter’s particular degrees, as that may be the case.” ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of an Inner Sentinel share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”Two swords crossed, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Esteemed Journeyman Officer present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Journeyman Officer, where is your station?” ”In the northhwest, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To accompany qualified, voluntarily applying, properly ballotted, accepted and invited candidates into the Journeymens’ Chapter, and deliver the main lecture of the Journeyman degree.” ”Why is your collar green?” ”The collar of a Journeyman Officer share the color of the Journeyman degree’s sash, signifying the noble virtues of Brotherhood, Duty and Benevolence.” ”What is the sign of your office?” ”A halberd, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Esteemed Squire Officer present?” Rob answered: ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Squire Officer, where is your station?” ”In the southwest, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To accompany properly invited Journeymen into the Squires’ Chapter, and deliver the main lecture of the Squire degree.” ”Why is your collar sky-blue?” ”The collar of a Squire Officer share the color of the Squire degree’s sash, signifying the noble virtues of Reason, Conscience and Equity.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”Two halberds crossed, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” Rob relaxed, and allowed the familiar and repetitious lull bring him into a timeless place, where symbols, customs and the choice of words had been more or less the same since 1865, and where he would recover from worries from work. ”Is the Esteemed Knight Officer present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Knight Officer, where is your station?” ”In the south, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”It is well known, to Brethren of lower degrees, that a Knight Officer serve as Treasurer of his Chapter, and the Coffer is unto me entrusted. My other duties are hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret. So is the significance of my crimson collar.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”A shield and a key, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Esteemed Sage Officer present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Esteemed Brother Sage Officer, where is your station?” ”In the north, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”It is well known, to Brethren of lower degrees, that a Sage Officer serve as Secretary of his Chapter, and the minute-books are unto me entrusted. My other duties are hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret. So is the significance of my black collar.” ”What are the signs of your office?” ”A skull and a quill, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Is the Very Esteemed Past Senior Aardvark present?” ”Present, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Very Esteemed Brother Past Senior Aardvark, where is your station?” ”By your right side, Honorable Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”On behalf of the Provincial Chapter, to supervise the compliance of a local Chapter to the Constitution and by-laws of the Ancient Benevolent and International Order of Aardvarks, to advice the Honorable Senior Aardvark during his term, and to lead Brethren in their devotions.” ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of a Past Senior Aardvark share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” ”What is the sign of your office?” ”An aardvark, Honourable Senior Aardvark.” ”What is an aardvark?” ”An aardvark is an animal very common in South Africa, measuring upwards of three feet in length, and having a general resemblance to a short-legged pig. It feeds on ants, and is of nocturnal habits, and very timid and harmless.” ”Why do we style ourselves after this particular animal?” ”Because it is emblazoned on our heraldic crest, Honorable Senior Aardvark” ”And why so?” ”Unlike other animals, it is not prone to attack, but, if attacked, it defend itself bravely with its fearsome claws, and it is furthermore a hardy creature able to withstand attacking poisonous soldier-ants. For this reason, it is a useful symbol for an Aardvark’s willingness to defend the grave and noble philosophical tenets instilled into willing and receptive hearts inside the chapter-rooms of aardvarkdom. Furthermore, its nocturnal habits and amusing visage is a proper symbol for the merriment allowed at the consecutive festive board.” ”Does aardvarkdom then allow merriment?" ”As Sacred Writ proclaim: ’To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.’” The Senior aardvark knocked twice with his gavel: ”Esteemable Officers, rise!” ”Esteemable Officers, which purpose under heaven does aadvarkdom serve?” Brother Journeyman Officer began the almost 200 year old traditonal answer: ”To bring together men from all walks of life.” Rob answered: ”To help them recognize in each other men and Brothers true.” Brother Knight Officer continued: ”To remind them of their civic duties.” Brother Sage Officer added: ”To instill noble ideals into willing and receptive hearts.” Brother Inner Sentinel concluded: ”And to enable such innocent mirth, that alleviate the burdens of mundane life.” As usual, the Past Senior Aardvark rose, and asked the Senior Aardvark: ”Honorable Senior Aardvark, where is your station?” ”In the east, Very Esteemed Brother Past Senior Aardvark.” ”Your duty there?” ”To preside as chairman of the business and transactions of a Chapter duly opened in, or raised to, any of the four Local Degrees of aardvarkdom." ”Why is your collar purple?” ”The collar of a Senior Aardvark share the color of the Official degree’s sash, but its significance is hidden from Brethren of lower degrees, and to the world a secret.” "What is the sign of your office?” ”A gavel. Esteemed Brother Journeyman Officer: Perform your duty, at the opening of the Chapter." Journeyman Officer solemnly approached the Senior Aardvarks desk, carrying his halberd in his left hand, and a candle in his right. He lit his candle, returned solemnly to his station, and lit the three candles at his pedestal, saying with a clear voice: "BROTHERHOOD. DUTY. BENEVOLENCE." Senior Aardvark answered: "I hereby declare Local Chapter number 16 of the Ancient Benevolent and International Order of Aardvarks duly opened for business in the Journeyman's Degree, to assist our neighbors in need and to the glory of the Supreme Being." He knocked in a complicated way. Inner Sentinel repeated the knock at the inside of the chapter-door. Outer Tiler repeated the knock from the outside of the chapter door. The Senior Aardvark now addressed Rob: ”Esteemed Brother Squire Officer: Perform your duty, at the raising of the Chapter to the second degree." Rob walked solemnly, and repeated what the Journeyman Official had done, lit the three candles close to his seat, and declared firmly: "REASON. CONSCIENCE. EQUITY." "Very Esteemed Brother Past Senior Aardvark; Perform your duty, at the raising of the Chapter to the second degree." "Honorable Senior Aardvark, Esteemable Officials, my Brethren! We are about to confer the second degree upon a Journeyman, and desire to make a lasting impression upon his conscience. Let us therefore conduct ourselves accordingly. To hear again the obligations taken; the instructions given and the wonderful lessons of the order dwelt upon, can only be of profit to you and to the order. You know how easily we forget. And before the Chapter is duly raised for business in the second degree, let us raise our hearts and minds unto the Supreme Being according to each one's conscience, and silently pray for blessings upon this Chapter." Silence fell. The air felt thicker now, and charged with solemnity. The silence was again broken by Senior Aardvark's voice: "I hereby declare Local Chapter number 16 of the Ancient Benevolent and International Order of Aardvarks duly opened for business in the Squire Degree, to assist our neighbors in need and to the glory of the Supreme Being." * * * It was two and a half hour later. The Chapter had closed traditionally, and they were seated around the dinner table. Brother Esteban joked something about where Brother Jim and Brother Rob were able to buy tuxedos in a fitting size, which caused Jim to laugh in his warm, deep voice, as he protectively patted the old and frail man on his shoulder. Jim leaned in Rob's direction, and whispered: "Now I get from where you got some of the ideas guiding 'Hancer Chapters." "Care for you neighbourhood. Good citizen. Incorruptibility. Not so old-fashioned, is it? Or if it is, some good ideas are old, which doesn't mean that every old idea is good." "Fair enough. Hasn't Nate given Aardvarks a thought? If he enjoy 'Hancer Chapters, he should enjoy the Aardvarks, wouldn't he, even if most Brethren are baseline fellows, and the rituals are more elaborate here." "He know how to apply. No one ought to persuade him. I've said more, than I should, to him. Then there's the bit about belief in a Supreme Being." "The Squire Trial was more shocking than I expected, but it's good food for thought." "Our founders wanted the Aardvarks to be more thought-provoking than Odd Fellows, the Masons or the temperance orders, that's why. It's not just a drama for drama's sake. The important thing is, that you begin to think for yourself. I suppose some Aardvarks are here just for company and the meal, and some Brethren think that the ritual part take too much time from charity, but I think, that there's a place for all three: Some serious food for thought and life-advice, some fun at the festive board, and some money and work spent on charity. There's an orphanage close to the coast which need some help to re-build, as a precaution against flood, and there's a women's shelter, that always is grateful for some donations." "Is it true, that Osiris Jefferson knew something about ancient Egypt?" Rob chuckled. "I've seen books printed as late as the 1970s, which maintained, that some of our imagery was transmitted by Jefferson from the ancient Egyptians, but that's nonsense. He deliberately shrouded himself in mystery, because back in the 1870s it was easier to present oneself as "Egyptian" than African-American. All of our five founders were outsiders in one or another sense: O'Kelly was an Irish Catholic at a time when that wasn't popular, Larsson was a Scandinavian at a time, when they were considered weird because of their bad English, then you have Jefferson, and even if Sanderson-Rattray belonged to an old family with a lot of money, he was considered eccentric, because he studied Thoreau, Emerson and Margaret Fuller. That he was an abolitionist in the South probably didn't endear him to his neighbours either: He moved to New England after a while. Smith was a Quaker. That's the reason why the obligation is a series of questions, and not the sort of wordy oath, it is rumoured, that other orders use. I doubt, that O'Kelly would have assisted in the foundation, if there had been an oath, either: Both Quakers and Catholics are sensitive about that. One of the proofs, that they didn't just talk the talk, but walked the walk, is, that Horowitz was one of the first candidates to become an Aardvark – He later became the third Grand Aardvark. I'll not bore you with our history. You'll have decades to read about that. The important thing is, that you give tonight's lessons some thought, and try to apply them in your daily life. Will you join me, when I fetch some more pie?" * * * The next chapter may be found HERE
  15. Mysterious Comet A Dark, Dirty story about a young man who gets possessed by a sinister alien race, controlling him, the alien sets out to spread its presence across the newly discovered planet. Who can stop him? Author Note: I wrote this story after watching some really crummy horror movies. It's a little schlocky and maybe even cliche. I did take the TFs in a slightly different direction. There's possession, sex, M/F TFs, nerd to jock, jock to more jock, etc. I've never done anything in the Continuous Stories section, but I think if this is something people might be into, their/your stories would be really cool contributions. Again, some of the premises here are probably standard and maybe even boring, and others might be bordering on the really weird. But if readers enjoy this, I'd love to see others stories too. I have part I and part II here. Feel free to post or PM questions but clearly since this is in the Continuous section...make things up as you go along. Oh, a quick shout out to alwaysmyway, his stories kinda inspired this. Pt I – The Arrival: Steve & Heather's Transformation My hands were shaking as I drove the car up to the top of Sunnyside Park, a bluff that overlooked our town. I spent better part of senior year spreading my seed casually around to any girl who wanted it, using my good looks, athletic build and charm to woo them out with me. Fellow football jocks had made a pack to try to get to any girl who was on the cheerleading team, then the girls' basketball team, then the swimmers. I was nervous when we first set out to do it in the fall, now it was a fun challenge to finish before graduation. We'd go after any girl who we knew wanted us and we knew were into it. Only Tyler tried to coax the more shy girls out of their shells. Brad and I, and most of the other guys, tried playing on a simpler, even field. Still, didn't make me any less nervous. I looked at Heather as she bit her lower lip, smiling, she was getting started pulling her shirt off, slowly, running her hands down over her bra as she continued peering into my sight. “Damn,” I whispered, “you know what you're doing...” “More than you think,” Heather answered as she shoved me against the door of the car, unbuttoning my shirt, and quickly throwing it off. She yanked my t-shirt over my head and smiled as she looked at my chest, pumped from my years of playing hard football, lifting weights and pushing my body to its athletic extent. “Just what I always wanted,” she said as she continued to dig into me. I knew she was referring to the hair on my body. Most of the team shaved, she must have been with a few guys before me. I pushed her bra away and felt her breasts with my palms. They were large and well developed, and she knew how to use them on me. My dick started to get an aching, cramp pain within my jeans, and I moved her hands down toward my belt. She backed away from my mouth and smiled at me, something sinister in her eyes. “You're not gonna get away with me that easily, beefy boy,” she said, a wink in her eye. Shoving me against the door of the car, Heather unbuckled her skirt and kicked off her flip flops. “Summer heat is wearing me out inside this little car, no space for my big man. Let's step out,” she said, opening the door and tumbling us out and onto the soft grass. Only in her tight pink panties, Heather stood and walked a few steps away from me, I tried to regain my balance and lift myself out, kicking my own sandals off. “I want to play a little game,” Heather said, turning back to me, flaunting her body in the warm, night air. “I'll make myself available right here, looking this quaint little town, we can fuck like we own every bit of it, but I want you to strip for me, take off every bit of your clothing and show me just how strong and athletic you are.” My eyes opened wide with excitement. “A challenge?!” I asked, a smile growing on my face. I had never been with a girl this aggressive before. “You jocks always take pride in your bare bodies, in your ability to go unabashedly nude and show off. Steve, take pride in the bodies you have, show me that it's worth it for me, that you deserve me, take pride in it, and prove it to me.” Heather wasn't requesting, it was an order. I was going to take her up on it. My barefeet touching the damp, warm ground, I unbuckled my belt and unbottoned my jeans, standing with pride for Heather to take me in. “This is what you want?” I ask her, teasing. “Can you handle what you're going to get...” Heather smiled, “I always get what I want.” Tucking my thumbs underneath my briefs, I decided getting naked in one motion would be the better way to impress her. My dick had died down after the makeout and I figured she might respect me seeing it in its semi-flaccid state. I pushed my jeans and briefs quickly down, bending my knees and concealing my package for a moment longer. “Ohh, I like an aggressive man,” Heather said, increasing my confidence, and my drive. Stepping out of my jeans, I slowly stood to reveal myself in its natural form. I smile at Heather, stepping forward to show her my whole self in all its glory. I looked down to see my work, my body, strong, athletic, attractive, hairy. I could tell Heather was impressed, “what do you want me to do to prove myself to you?” I asked. But before she could answer a loud buzz came from overhead, a sharp spark of light lit right above us and it roared into the nearby tree coverage to the west. “CRASH!”, the wave of air pushing Heather and I back a few steps. “Jesus,” I said, “what was that?” Heather was equally spooked, grabbing my arm, almost forgetting the game we were playing. She rubbed it, giving her confidence again, maybe she liked the body, maybe I did provide something more than mere fun for her. But her attention dwindled from me. “Uhh, Steve, go check it out,” she said. “I don't know,” I answered, “I'm sure it's nothing, can't we just...” “Do it Steve!” she said, shoving my back toward the fallen object which lit a flame on the bushes nearby. I walked toward the bushes, my mind still on the game we were playing. How I could I forget? I was still buck naked. I could tell her eyes were glancing on my ass muscles. I turned around to smile, Heather giving me a small smile back, but still worried. Looking down, I saw a small, black orb sitting in the bush, smoke billowing off of it. “it looks like a rock of some sort,” I said, “an...orb or something.” As I looked into it, I couldn't help but notice the rock-like substance starting to bubble, starting to, liquify almost. “Something's happening. Fucking weird...” I said as I started backing away, “Heather, can you grab my clothes, I think we should probably get out of here.” Heather moved ahead of me but as the liquid started to bubble out of the rock, I couldn't help but stare. Something was beckoning me to watch, to see what would happen. A stream of liquid rose and snaked its way toward me, and before I could turn back to the car to leave, it quickly accelerated and attached onto my feet. “Woah!” I shouted, the oily substance felt smooth, and warm, it was nice, comforting in an odd way. I could tell it was sentient somehow. It was, almost, feeling me out, seeing what kind of person I was; and as it crawled over my feet I could feel it getting more aggressive, burrowing underneath my nails, under the pores of my skin, and as it did it seemed to give me an extra boost of strength, of confidence. I immediately liked it. It felt as if it were designed for me. As if, by being naked, I made myself the perfect thing for it to bond with. “Steve? STEVE!” Heather shouted, but I couldn't listen to her, all I could do was feel the pleasure of the orb integrating into my body. I turned my head back to Heather, having trouble moving my feet with the substance covering them. “Heather check this out!” I shouted, “woah...it feels fuckin great!” What was I saying? The substance racing through me could not have truly been something that I wanted?...or could it? I started to chuckle as I felt the oil crawl under my skin, break off and like mini snakes, it traveled under my skin, racing underneath my hairy shins and up toward my body. As it did I started to feel myself change. To grow. It was so strange, so foreign and yet I couldn't help but revel in the pleasure it was giving me. As the liquid orb buried itself into my feet and legs I felt it swim and burrow itself into every part of my body, integrating into every possible organ, every muscle that it could. I opened my mouth, I could feel myself changing, bringing on some other kind of ability, and I was loving it. I felt its energies stimulate me. As it did, something truly amazing started happening all at once: My muscles started to grow before my eyes, taking on new strength and new forms with each passing second. Every muscle in my super-evolving body surged in pleasure as they absorbed the energy of the oil like a thousand nuclear reactors, surging in size to the proportions I had only dreamed of. I felt as if I was the strongest man alive. I hadn't noticed that the oil had advanced up my body as far as it had. The oil wrapped itself over my exploding legs and quads, pushing itself into my ass and through my pecker. As it did, they both started to lock in and grow, hair pushing with aggression to match the definition of the purest masculinity. I doubled over as I felt my abs contort themselves into deep-grooved slabs of stone, dense, thick and strong. My pecs continued pushing outward as hair wrapped over them. “Steve! Oh god Steve what's happening to you?!” Heather screamed, though I could barely hear her, I couldn't pay attention to anything other than my miraculous transformation. The oil from the orb swam into and rocked my mind, I could think of nothing else but the incredible, foreign power increasing its energy over me. I was becoming thankful for what I was given, for who I was becoming. I smiled and soon after a purpose formed in my head, an objective, a way to pay back the powers that were gifting me with this colossal body. An image of a race, of a species entered into my consciousness, an alien of some sort. Yes! And they chose me! Me, of all people, to integrate their powers and assimilate into humans. No, it was more, I was to take over the human race! To spread my seed and influence, allowing my race to rule again on a new planet. “Yes...” I shouted, “YESS!” I could feel the powers of the race borrow into my body, it was the most immaculate thing I had ever experienced. My vision blurred briefly as my eyes metamorphosed not only into the perfect seeing instruments, but into the perfect weapons as well. Every superhuman muscle in my ultra body became reservoirs for the powers they now possessed, using that power to transform into whole new kinds of super-strong tissue, evolving me even further. I learned I could transform into anything I wanted, I could influence people in ways not known before, I was gaining some sort of extraterrestrial power that was before now was completely unknown to any human. I wasn't a human, I was becoming something else entirely. And I loved it. I experienced one final, spectacular surge of full-body orgasmic pleasure as my new, hyperstimulated nervous system realigned itself throughout my body, becoming conduits for the powers I was now armed with: Immortality, possession, the ability to control other people, and of course, my true purpose, to spread my seed and my race, to take over the planet with my new powers. I wanted nothing more. I was no longer human, I was the Orb, the Orb was me, and I intended to use it to fulfill my true purpose. My naked body soaked in the last of my oily essence as I turned back toward Heather, terrified with what she had just seen. I smiled at her but couldn't look for long without first admiring my newly evolved body. “Ahh, what a perfect specimen,” I said, “young, male, athletic, it's the perfect vessel with which to push my influence and spread my kind. And a male...yes...I think my kind will enjoy being male.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Heather whispered, not intending me to hear it, but I could hear perfectly now, I could read her thoughts too. “This body is perfect,” I shouted to her, “I integrated perfectly, the melding of Human genes with our essence...should prove to be the perfect host with which to finally build our army...” I continued examining my new body, my newly evolved body. Hair stretched itself over my hulking quads, my swagging dick wider than I could have ever imagined possible, my testicles holding my new power-ridden seed, bouncing between my thighs...begging for release. Smiling at Heather, I took a step forward. “What?” I asked, smiling. “This is what you wanted, your man naked, strong, to be before you for you to...admire...” My dick started growing as I took more steps toward her, Heather backing toward the car. “What are you talking about, Steve?” She asked. Thinking of the name I remembered my past self, a former consciousness that no longer existed of his own. He was altered, he became me, a hybrid of a human with my evolved, transformative, possessive race. After years of searching for a species to take over it seemed we had finally found one worth working to obtain. “I have become more than human, something you will get to soon experience, get to revel in as I have, as I am now...” I mysteriously said as I took a few more steps toward her. My dick was jumping to attention, aching with release, excited to expel its new seed. “Don't you want to feel what I've become?” I asked, pushing Heather against the car as I tested human lust, digging my mouth into her's.” “You aren't Steve at all,” Heather whispered, “you just have his...ummm....memories,” she said as she fell under the spell of my lust. “Oh...wow,” she said, feeling the power of my lust. Reaching down into her panties, I ordered them to dissolve having them fall off before I turned my attention to her slit, Heather moaning in pleasure as I touched it. I could feel it wet and aching for something to fill it. The human was clearly into me, wanted me, the body was aching for my seed. I dug my tongue back into her again, feeling her lust exude completely from her body. She finally spoke again, “take me, Steve, take me...you...I want it, I want it!” I pushed my dick into her body, the warmth and wet home beckoning me, begging me to pump, to deposit. The human slipped her legs over my ass and massaged them. She pulled me closer and dug into my mouth further. I pulsed, and pushed, every bit of the female's body begging for my release. It didn't take long for my testicles to churn, my body to push its energies toward its orgasmic purpose; the feeling of 10,000 orgasms racing from every muscle of my newly formed body into my testicles, my entire being built for this moment. “Oh fuck...” I said as I crested, my ass tightening, my leg muscles spasming, my dick rocking with the power of a volcanic explosion into Heather, continuing to push harder and harder into her. “OH!” she shouted, voice immediately becoming deeper, “OH I can feel it YES! MOOOREE!” she commanded as I continued pumping, ounces of my seed rushing into her. I let go of her lips and looked into her. Our minds met. She was becoming one of us. She was changing. My seed was working. I looked down to see her breasts flattening, pulling against her chest as her nipples shrunk while a strange, liquifying substance washed across her. Heather shut her eyes, “oh yeah...” she said, her deeper voice sounding more masculine. I looked down to her abs as they started contorting, rotating, forming deep grooves similar to my own. As they expanded her mid section expanded with her, legs staying tightly wrapped across my body as they began to shake, first slimming down, looking younger, before beefing out to monstrous sizes, hair starting to grow on them. “She is becoming one of us!” I said, almost surprised to see my duty taking effect so quickly. Soon I felt immense pressure on my cock, slipping it out I noticed her genitals reforming themselves, her slit closing as hair started growing on it, dark pubic hair growing up toward her belly button. Her flat chest started bulking out as her pecs formed a tight groove, pushing monstrous sizes out, snaking its sinew out across her tightly wound arms and forearms, becoming more masculine, gripping me tighter as her strength increased. Her eyes stayed, a smile growing wider and wider as Heather lapped up every orgasmic moment of her transformation, just as I had moments before. Brown hair started forming under her pits, brushing itself out across her arms and toward her hands, bulking up and reshaping into a new, masculine build. I couldn't help but be impressed. What I did was working! She was becoming one of us, taking my deposit and adapting into a male human form, and she seemed to be loving it. Muscles continued to expand across her body, clumps of her long, blonde hair falling out and curling into a wispy, surfer like, hair-do. As it did her face re-contorted, , flattening, becoming wider, and more masculine as a shadow graced across her face, dark blonde hair sprouting to masculine measure; her neck thickening as her throat grew to show her deeper vocal chords. Heather, or my kin that Heather was becoming, seemed to be so lost in her transformation that she didn't even notice I was still tightly wound her wrapped, expanding body. As the muscle in her quads snaked up, locked in and met her waist, a deep adonis V grew over her, all of her muscles pointing toward the new tool that her body was incubating. I could see her midsection pushing out new lines of flesh, ,a new and evolved sex organ growing to massive and mature size; as it grew out of her waist it grew with such force that the size of the dick and balls were mature even before they appeared. They dropped fast and pushed hard against my own evolved package. Pushed against each other, they were like twins, perfectly formed and suited exactly for the same task. I couldn't help but be in awe. This was my creation, this new creature was mine, and it was perfect. Heather dropped its legs and pushed me back as they continued expanding, the creature's new dick continuing to grow and wag, the body's ass reshaping into a boxy, hard bubble, one that exuded pure masculine force. Heather bent at the knees to stretch the new muscular ass and thighs. “YESSS!” he shouted, “YES I can feel it, I'm one with the Orb, one with you!” The creature crackled with the same immortal powers that graced me only moments before, and stared at me in all its new-found glory. “Ohh...this is perfect!” the creature shouted, “Mmm, it feels so good to be back! And in this perfect state, this perfect specimen of a species...that of a human.” My creation looked up at me. “Brother...it is good to see you again, to be here.” The creature again stretched itself, every muscle relishing in its existence. “You, Steve, the human name...what shall I be called? For it's because of you that I'm back. And does it feel good.” “Zack,” I said, the first name coming to my mind. My brother nodded as he continued examining his body. “Yes, the second one. Zack. I like it.” Zack rotated his head as he thought. “This orb couldn't have landed in a better place. A small town, possessing a young couple, you and I: we now started the perfect group to spread ourselves, to breed. Human high schoolers, seniors just about to graduate, it's the perfect place to start our campaign, to start our rite to take over the galaxy once more.” Zack and I smiled at each other. Yes it was. – Pt II – Chris Grows Zack and I looked back toward Steve's car. We knew we wanted to assimilate more humans, to transform them to our kind. We could have driven the car back into town, or simply teleported ourselves. Unlike the humans we merged with, we didn't need to eat or sleep, though we knew we had to figure out ways to assimilate into this town one way or another. “We don't want people being confused about the car, let's take it back to Steve's house,” Zack said. “We can turn invisible and wait the night out, then we can morph ourselves back to Steve and Heather and continue living their lives at school.” “Yes,” I agreed, “tomorrow the football team is going to lift together, in the locker room we can both resume our natural selves and corner the team, we can transform 20 of them at one time.” “You're getting me excited already,” Zack responded, his dick growing in anticipation. “You already got to have the pleasure of it, I need to use my tool soon.” As if a wish were coming true, Zack and I heard a car pull up across the small lot at the top of the park. “Quick!” I said as we turned ourselves invisible. The car thankfully didn't see us. As the human came within closer approximation, I could feel his thoughts. “Another high school senior,” I told Zack, “your lucky day it seems.” Zack smiled back at me. It was a man, Chris, a loner who Steve and Heather knew from school. He was not one of the in-crowd, he was a science geek and a lover of astronomy, one who wanted to meet alien species even, and dreamed of leaving earth. “This guy is going to love this!” I said to Zack. “Let's see what he'll do...we'll find the right time to introduce ourselves,” Zack replied. Chris stepped out of the car, not noticing Steve's clothes from his strip earlier, and walked to his trunk to pull out his telescope. As he was setting it up, Zack signaled for me to walk around to introduce myself to him first. As I did, he heard the crunching gravel and looked around, finally noticing Steve's clothes on the ground. “What the fuck?” he asked, walking over and picking up the jeans and underwear, going through the pocket and finding Steve's wallet. “Perfect time,” I told Zack, who stayed invisible. “Hey Chris,” I said, stepping toward him. He dropped Steve's wallet and took a step back, shocked to see someone there, then again to see a naked man. “Woah!” he shrieked, “Uhh...Steve? Is that you? What are you doing here?” “No worries, man,” I said back, “just doing a little naked mile workout, you know...” Chris blushed, “yeah, I guess so,” he said, looking down. “You're kinda making me uncomfortable, your muscles are huge too, have you been working out lately?” He couldn't help but take a glimpse or two at my dick, wagging as I walked around him, I could sense the jealousy, and the admiration. “Yeah man!” I said flexing, inviting him to look at me. I took a few steps closer, Chris backing away. “No need to worry, man, you can be like this too, if you want...” Chris looked up at me again, getting more nervous, but also with a hint of excitement, “really? What are you talking about, Steve?” “It's easy,” I answered, “it might not be fun at first, but you'll appreciate it as soon as we're done...” “We?” Chris was clearly confused, he started backing toward his car, “what do you mean? Uhh, maybe I should just go...” I could tell he wanted the body like mine but was too confused and worried to say any more. I disappeared from his vision and walked up to his back side before whispering in his ear, “We're the species that you've dreamed about, Chris, become one of us...” He jumped in fear and turned back toward me. “What the fuck, man?!” he said. I touched his tshirt, causing it to burn off as it shredded around his skinny, pale frame. “Jesus, who are you?” “I told you,” I said, walking toward him again. “Give Zack and I a chance, we'll make you one of us, you'll love it...” Zack and I knew it was a point of no return, it was time for Chris to become us. I teleported around Chris and at his back I grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting his small and light body slightly into the air. He started kicking in fear but said surprisingly little. “Wait!...Steve, just...I don't know what you want but just wait...” Zack phased back into vision and walked toward us, Chris freezing in fear. With every step Zack's dick swayed longer and slower before it started growing at attention, higher and thicker before extending to full attention, eagerly awaiting command from its captain. At a mere few inches from Zack I gently lowered Chris toward the ground, keeping his feet from touching. Chris was in complete fear, staring at the muscular monster before him. “don't worry, dude,” Zack said, “when we're done, you'll be one of us, you'll be, perfect.” Zack grabbed his tool and slowly, deliberately, started pumping, admiring his body as he looked between himself and his soon-to-be brother. Chris couldn't help but stare, “oh my god,” he said, “quit it, don't do it man!” he whispered, worried, but not moving his attention away from the dick an inch away from his abdomen. “Just a second...” Zack said between breaths. As he continued pumping his breathing increased, his muscles began twitching, the alien was building his body up to its purpose, every organ aligning itself for its first ritual. “Mmmm, I can feel it...Ohhhh SHIT!!” He shouted. As his cock tightened, it locked in and his balls flung themselves into his huge waist. A thick black load of cum sprayed out and hit Chris square in the abdomen. Then another, and another. Multiple loads as the virility and thickness gained. Zack lost his balance and pushed himself onto Chris, his dick landing on the oil that quickly awoke and started swimming over Chris's body. Chris could only wimper. “Just you wait...” Zack said between breaths, grabbing his shoulder before I let our host go, soon to become our newest brother. Chris started running once again toward his car but he was disoriented, dizzy, he tried scraping off the swimming seed over his body but he couldn't get it off. He ran toward his car once again but froze as the oil gained direction and immediately dove under his pants and boxers and toward his ass crack and pecker. Zack and I both closed our eyes, we could feel our brother connecting with his new body, soon to assimilate into Chris. “ARGH!” Chris shouted as he bent his back forward. “Woah...what the fuck is...happening to me!” Chris's jeans, shoes, socks and underwear ripped in one full motion, leaving the human completely naked. He stood back up to look at himself in horror. Zack's seed had completely collected over the human's midsection, forming a tight bound over his body like a pair of small, tight, liquid briefs. Chris could tell the oil was positioning itself to intrude into his body but he also knew there was little he could do about it. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was actually good for him. Chris's ass quaked as the seed found an orifice to climb into, I could see it pull itself into his ass and have his cock drink it in. As it did it gained length and girth. Chris shut his eyes as he paused for a moment to take it in. “Umm...” he said quickly, perhaps he was going to enjoy this. “Woah...” he said again, looking down as his cock grew, integrating with the seed. Zack and I could feel him assimilating to us, becoming us, we smiled as our creation continued to grow over this body. “Oh yeah!” he shouted, more enthusiastic this time, “I can feel my muscles growing! Haha, it feels fucking great, oh yes I love the body, the confidence, the assurance!” Chris moved and stretched his body as his bones cracked and muscles thickened. Bending his shoulder muscles back to their relaxed position, I saw the first bouts of muscle grow over his shoulder blades, protruding out, then wrapping down and into his biceps. They were becoming refined, strong, and assured. Looking down at his lower arms Chris noticed the veins protrude and additional muscle warp itself around his forearms. Grabbing his abs, Chris chuckled as they begin to expand. His abs contorted and slimmed liquifying into almost a puddle of water, then began to grow outward: even, defined muscles forming an eight pack. They hardened as the creases grew deep grooves into his body. As the muscle growth hit his waistline, new muscles begin to form on his quads and under the last bit of black seed, creating tight contours pushing against the oil. As the last of it entered into his body, Chris grabbed his butt enthusiastically massaging its growth. His rear formed hard muscle on itself, growing outward, strong. As the side ass muscles flexed and locked in place, rounding to become a tight bubble butt, hair wrapped around and onto his legs, creating a new thick layer of black hair over him. His thighs snapped tall and grew, becoming refined and strong as he gained height from his short 5'6” to an athletic 6'3”. His quads peced outward and began matching the growth of his ass. They became like footballs as rock hard muscle grew into them. Soon, the hair spread down to his legs, then up and around his man package. His pubes began to grow over his waistline, wrapping itself around his belly button and up, in a thin line toward his chest. There, his black hair began growing, slightly but evenly, over his new man-pecs and chest. His arm hair grew and darkened and his arm pits tuffed additional hair underneath. Looking down and checking out his growing body, Chris, or our brother who was becoming Chris, began to chuckle at the pleasure. Chris could feel the athletic endurance rushing over him. Admiring himself as he continued to grow, Chris looked down to his package as it begin to fill out with our seed, his cock and balls becoming large and clearly accentuated between his hulking legs, dropping with aggression. As our brother assimilated into Chris's personality, our immortal powers rushed over him, “YESS!” the creature shouted with excitement! “Our powers!!” Even the original Chris couldn't help but enjoy what was happening to him. All he wanted was to evolve beyond being a human and we were allowing it to happen. He was a pure piece of athletic masculinity while also being an all-powerful extraterrestrial, able to woo and pleasure any human—man or woman—who he wanted. He was becoming one of us and he was the happiest he ever imagined. As the power transformation completed, our new kin turned to us with a wide smile. “FUCK YEAH!” he said. “Oh...brothers! Thank you for giving me this, I couldn't be happier, this is who I am, what a perfect fucking body...” Chris clearly had more aggression than I did, in personality and body, and even his muscles were a little firmer than mine or Zack's. But he was one of us, and happy to join our party, and our cause. “How does it feel, Chris?” Zack asked. Chris kneeled to him. “Feels like being a fucking god, a fucking ruler. Thank you.” he restood and ordered his body to levitate before flying up. “Yes!” he said laughing. Chris and I joined in as we flew higher and higher into the sky, our naked bodies relishing in the night air as it became thinner and thinner. We laughed as we raced around the stratosphere, high above the town. I paused as the other guys caught up with me. “Tomorrow we can continue our agenda,” I said. “Zack and I can infiltrate the football locker room. Chris, do you think you can spread ourselves with the chess and astronomy teams?” “Absolutely!” Chris said, ecstatic. “there's only about 5 per group, but we need to get the nerds assimilated as quickly as the jocks. With all of us on the same side it'll be tough for any one group to get suspicious. I'll meet with them both...and use this new tool to show them how amazing this actually is...” patting his dick, Chris smiled. “Tomorrow is a Friday,” Zack said, “Cindy, Heather's friend, is hosting a party for the football players and cheerleaders, we know it'll be a fuck fest. We can start transforming more women tomorrow night. Fuck, this is going to be fun...” We laugh as we fly back toward town, I use my power to phase Steve's car back to his house. We camp in the clouds tonight. Tomorrow, we continue our mission, and our fun.
  16. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Five He returned home. Their i-house behaved predictably: "Welcome home. Dr. Nelson. Your body temperature and perspiration level are. Above. Average. Do you want me to prepare a cooling bath?" "No." Rob took the thick skiing jacket off, and began to remove his clumsy but sturdy ski-boots. He was tired, but satisfied. "Robbie?", Nates familiar voice greeted him from another room. "Yes. Home. Missed you." The Machine turned around a corner, approached him and hugged him, saying in a mocking tone: "Ah. The hero has returned! How did it go?" "Two dead, but we saved the lives of twenty-six. Those who say that Civic Hancer-chapters don't fill a purpose, don't know what they are talking about. After the avalanche, us brothers were able to do certain things the baseline rescue team and the machines weren't able to. I'm exhausted, but it's times like this I feel that my life serve some sort of purpose. I didn't just get big for my own sake." "I would have joined you up there, if Coach had allowed me, but I had to prepare for that match." "I know. I don't blame you. Family. Work. Neighbourhood. Citizenship. Fun. You know what I think." Nate didn't answer. He kissed him instead. "Podotelly released it a few hours ago." Rob tensed. Nate enjoyed when Rob tensed his muscles, but not in that particular way. Rob sighed. "Disaster? How did they edit it?" "Could have been worse. I want to have fun with you, Hancer-guru. Before or after watching?" "Fun after watching. I will probably need to let off some steam after Podotelly, and Marketing will probably hunt me down as soon as they hear, that I'm back from the snowy great outdoors, to put a spin on it. I don't like Marketing. I don't ..." "Hush. I've heard it before. I prepared some lentil salad for your return, and ... i-House!" "Yes. Nate.? How may I be of assistance?" "Mix four litres of vanilla flavoured Hulkabolic Gro Bro 3000." They could hear the sound of a mixer starting from the kitchen. "Come, join me in the sofa, so we can get rid of it all. Calm down. I began watching. It could have been worse." Nate activated the i-screen, left Rob in the sofa, and went to the kitchen, to fetch the food. The scene on the screen looked exactly the way Rob expected it to look. "Hello, and welcome to Podotelly's Widescreen, the television pod for you who like how television pods used to be back in the good old days. I am your host, the hologram of the late Mr. Jeremy Paxman, and tonight we will discuss Hancing and Trans-speciesism: Threat or Opportunity? But first a pre-view on next episode's debate: Are horse-carts the solution to Inner City environment in the Deluge Economy?" Rob sighed. Nate returned with the food. Rob stuffed himself. The pod continued: "... and famous psychologist, debater and nmlogger Dr. Ernest Schuster-Slatt. Well, we all watched the initial clips from a commercial produced by the company where Dr. Nelson work. They grow big boys bigger, or so they say, and you have studied this matter for quite some time now, haven't you?" Dr. Schuster-Slatt was a thin-limbed and slender individual with a pale complexion and a receding hairline, wearing a two-piece suit in the new modern plastic fabric, but it didn't look flattering: "We live in a society lost in nostalgia, but not a nostalgia about the past as it actually was, but an imagined past. Men and women have been working side by side in almost all lines of professional occupation for generations, and already before the Crisis some young men struggled to come to terms with what it mean to be a man in the modern age. Some sought the answer in their embodied existence, began to valourize muscular strength and size, and spent significant amounts of time on physical exercise, nutritional supplements and enhancing drugs. The Post-War era saw the rise of Hancing technology for non-military and recreational use, and it attracts a certain segment of the male population today, characterised by narcissism, hedonism, immaturity and a low level of self-esteem. From a psychological point of view, Hancing – as it actually is used in our society – isn't a solution to a problem. On the contrary: It constitute a problem on an individual and public level." The hologram interrupted: "Before you continue, let us allow Dr. Nelson to share his point of view on the matter. You have heard a summary of Dr. Schuster-Slatt's criticism. You work at a Hancing company, and you are a publicly visible high-profile Hancer yourself. What do you have to say?" If he had known about the heat from the spotlights, Rob hadn't chosen to wear a three piece wool suit. Sweat trickled from his temples, and it caused him to look dodgy. Something about the lighting caused his icy blue eyes to look arrogant. "To begin with, when we talk about 'Hancing in the modern sense, we are talking about two things. We are talking about a particular biomedical and physics-based technology, and like all technologies it has to be used responsibly. All and every tech can be abused. At the company where I work with Hancing, we take particular care to ensure, that people who want to buy our products follow a stable psychological profile. Secondly, we are talking about a particular sub-culture, which has emerged around the possibilities enabled by Hancing-technology. I have personally been involved in the emergence of the Hancer sub-culture, and I can assure Dr. Schuster-Slatt and all your viewers, that it is a sub-culture based on certain values. Chapter-affiliated Hancers improve their bodies in order to better be able to improve their neighbourhoods. Hancers talk a lot about 'The Common Good'. Something the Interplanetary War taught us who grew up in those years was a sense of duty." "I can't allow this debate to deteriorate into some sort of commercial for Hancing.", Dr. Schuster-Slatt interrupted, "In my profession, I have seen countless of men, who had their lives ruined either by violent and abusive Hancers in their surroundings or by Hancing-processing of themselves going wrong. They shouldn't be allowed to modify their bodies at all. Authorities ought to prohibit all tampering with human DNA, hormones and morphic fields." "Excuse me?", a shrill voice interrupted from another chair. The voice belonged to an anthropomorphic person of undecided gender with purple fur, cat-like eyes and a distinctly feline shape of their head. A purple cat-like tail moved in an upset way. "Do you say, that you want to rob thousands of Anthro-identifying people out there of their cure?" "Don't interrupt me, young lady.", Dr. Schuster-Slatt snubbed the being in an arrogant and harsh tone, but his snub was met by an upset shout: "Did you just assume my species?" The debate turned worse from there. Rob sighed again. "I want to watch it to the end, but, if they didn't edit it more severely, the quarrel between those two shifted much of the focus away from Hancing, which might be just as well. Not my proudest moment." "You didn't tell me how purple they were.", Nate said, and kissed Rob's ear. "Have I told you, that your sweat smells good, when you just have saved human lives?" * * * Next chapter is found HERE
  17. The Prelude to this story may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Two Max had finished one of his late night workouts. They had caused him a fit and lean body, but the PT:s, which he only briefly had been able to afford, had told him, that he was a "typical hardgainer", unlikely to ever achieve the bodybuilder physique so popular among a certain segment of his circle of friends. He was ravenously hungry, and popped by a night-open fast food chain famous for their vegan kimchi-burgers. He crossed the street, one lane at the time: Pavement, bike lane, horse lane, oneway RobCab lane, oneway car lane, horse lane, bike lane and pavement – the usual for a street of this size: Only the big roads allowed RobCab lanes and car lanes in both directions. The air was chilly and had some bite. Winter was approaching. He was fumbling with his g-watch for the entry code, but opened the app for his g-fridge by mistake, and he stood with his back to the street. When the big arm locked his neck in its crook, it took him by surprise. He was dragged into a black van, and someone pulled his bag out of his grip. He was vaguely aware of two big blokes, the size of Hancers, before someone put a sort of sack or hood over his head. He felt a sting in his neck, and he blackened out. The last thing he heard was his g-watch, saying: "Welcome, Max. You have one tomato left. Do you want me to order tomatoes?" * * * Dr. Robert Nelson, one of the founders of and experts at Megagrowth Hancing Services, read, watched and listened to the multimedia-news on his i-screen with growing concern. "No new information has been found about the disappearance of Canada-based journalist Max Brad, a Canadian of Polish-American extraction, who left his home two days ago without leaving a trace. Mr. Brad's watch was found without fingerprints in a public dustbin six miles from his home, and the Police does not exclude the possibility of crime. If you know anything, that could be of assistance, please contact the Police authority at ..." The young little fool. He had warned Max about those Hancers who didn't grok, that Max was doing his work for the general good of Hancer-culture, and he had warned about the unscrupulous companies, that competed with Megagrowth Hancing Services and Physical Potential Foundation. No signs yet, of the articles Max had promised to publish soon. Rob felt worried, that someone had tried to silence Max – by which means and how successfully could be anyone's guess. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  18. The Prelude may be found HERE The preceding chapter may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Three "Welcome home. Nate.", their i-house greeted him, when "The Machine" returned home. "There is. Protein-shake. For. Three days. left. Do you want me to order. Protein-shake. From an Apple-approved supplement store?" "Make it so.", The Machine answered in his deep delightful voice, but just now, he didn't want to be "The Machine". He wanted to be just Nate. "Robbie, are you there?" "In the study, Nate." Nate put his bag down on the floor, and slouched into the study. Rob was occupied writing something on his i-top, and sat with his back to the door. Nate came closer, and put his arms around Rob's traps and neck, pressing himself against Rob's chair, burying his nose in Rob's crewcut. "Something wrong?" "Nothing particular. Nothing new.", Nate sighed. Rob continued to write. They were silent together. Rob could feel Nate's body heat close, and pressed "Send". Then he rose from the chair, turned around and hugged his big husband. They hugged each other in silence. "Food?" "Ate dinner according to Coach's schedule, but I could have a supper with you in an hour, if that's ok?" "It's ok, indeed. I didn't have the best of days either. Will you begin, or will I?" "I had to lose against "Space Marine" tonight." "The audience would be bored dead if you won all the time, wouldn't they? This will add some tension, I guess. You are not a bad loser under ordinary circumstances. You know the business. Something else is troubling you, isn't it?" "A bundle of things. I will not repeat the usual stuff, but you know, I wanted to become big in order to compete ..." "... and entertainment isn't about real opposition, real achievements. The best Machine I know has told me those things before." "And then there's time. When I was younger, time went slower. A year was an ocean of time. Now it's rushing. Woosh. Like that. Do I look old, Robbie?" "Don't be silly. You look mature. I prefer my favourite Machine mature. I gather, that many of your fans do, too." "It's not something to joke about. "Space Marine" is just 25. I'm worried, that WHC might consider to move me from the all-age league to the adult-only league, just as they did, when they forced "Biker Brawn" to change nickname to "Leather Daddy"." "Don't be ridiculous. Little boys all over the world love to watch "The Machine" fight and tell them to eat spinach and brush their teeth properly. And WHC wouldn't want to lose the opportunity to sell more "The Machine"-toys." "Coach told me, that I would 'take the time I need' to consider a Rejuvenation at Physical Potential Foundation." "Rejuvenation? I can understand the 70 and 80 year olds, but someone about 40 undergoing Rejuvenation is damn outright ridiculous. What does Coach believe it would achieve?" "Today, heels look mature. If I want to continue as a face, I need to be baby-faced, he says." "Something is wrong with this world. You know, that I seldom lose my temper, Nate, but that's sick, and it's not the only thing, that is sick about this world. All of it makes me furious!" Rob trembled in controlled rage. Nate hugged him again, and there was something with his brainy and usually so composed husband angry, that turned him on. When his bulge throbbed against Rob's fly, he could feel how it caused Rob to become aroused, too. Their breathing changed. Nate kissed Rob. Then he lifted his muscular husband up – all 880 pounds of him – and carried him into the bedroom. Supper had to wait. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  19. The Prelude to this story may be found HERE The preceding chapter of this story may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Four "No, just the old, dated model. Some of the guys need some initial encouragement to feel the true Hancer urge." "I can't believe, that the old model is still in use. All that debate about safety issues and what it did to some guys' brains." "I'm old enough to have tried it myself." "You are kidding?" "Nah. It was back in the days. I'd worked out seriously for years and tried Tren and Deca and the things that were popular back then, and proper Hancing wasn't a thing, yet: The tech did exist on an early and risky level, but it wasn't general knowledge. There wasn't a word for it, and no Hancer-culture around. No Bad Boys either. It was just about lads wanting to go beyond what gear allowed, and Jock-up Xtreme 3000 was portable. You could do it at home in your bedroom, which freaked some parents out, and there were sport coaches who bought it for their team members. As long as you don't overuse it, there are no risks, but some of the early Hancers got addicted and used it again and again at increasing levels, and they got their brains fried and their metabolisms ruined. It wasn't supposed to be used like that." "I still don't like it. The risks." "What do you expect? Transport an entire Chamber or Tank or Growthpod around? Look what he's achieved already while asleep!" "Only portable option. Well ok. Admit he added some nice tone. More than some tone. But was it really necessary to give him that H.?" "Wasn't any insane dose of H. Not like the crazies overdose it. Just a tiny, little one to make him more receptive. Don't like the name of it, personally. I think they went for "Hulk Out" for marketing purposes, and some of the product names are just ridiculous." "Hey, Vitaly, he's waking up." "Thanks, Bob. Sooner than I expected." The prisoner felt confused. Confused about his whereabouts. Confused about what had happened, and what still happened. Confused about who he was. Why some sort of sack over his head, so he couldn't see properly? Why was he tied to a chair? And then he felt the nice feeling surge through his body. Exquisitely. Voluptiously. "Which sub-routine did you choose? "J.O.S.H."? "Inner Chad"? "Coach's Alpha"? "The invoice says ... O, wait, did you hear that? Is he ok?" "Ok. Better check, that it's running properly." "Just don't upset him." "Who do you take me for?" Yes! Nice feeling. Exquisitely! Voluptiously! Uh! His body! "Hey, bro? How do you feel?" Someone called him "Bro". Deep voice. Sounded like a Hancer. He like Hancers. Big. Impressive. "Do you feel ok, buddy?" "Feel ok. Feel good.", he mumbled. Wow. Voluptiously! Bro. Mmmm. He's a good Bro. Not disappoint his bros. "You are a Hancer, aren't you, bro?" Hancers. Big. He shivered. His body ... Something nice was happening. With his body. Hancer himself? Hard to think. Something didn't sound right. "I'm a Hancer Fan, I guess?" "No. You can't be just a tiny Hancer Fan, bro. You're built." "I do work out. Been disappointed. Can't be a Hancer myself, can I?" "Of course you are, bro. As a Hancer to another Hancer, you look like a beginner Hancer, little bro." Nice feeling surge. Body. Biceps felt harder. Mmmmm. Harder. Quads and hamstrings, too. A certain beefiness he didn't remember. But, then, he didn't remember much, either. Didn't matter. Growth mattered. His muscles. Muscle Growth. Oh, fuck yes! Voluptiously! "You're a real Hancer now. Taken the first step. Wonders ahead of you." Real Hancer now! His dick jumped inside his unfamiliar underwear. Was he wearing a ... "Feel so good, bro." "Of course you do. Do you look forward to your next workout? Lift heavier than ever before?" Beefier. Surging through him. Yeah! Beefier! Not only his arms and legs ... also his back and pecs. His pecs! His ... "Can you see it, bro? I can feel it! I'm ... O fuck, I'm ... ofukkofukkofukkofukk ..." So intense now. All his muscles spasmed, but not in a painful way, but in ... "Yes, I can see it, bro. You're becoming a proper Hancer, now. Looks great. Suits you. Impressive beef. All those gains." "YES! GAINS!", he yelled to no one in particular. A wave of power was building. A build-up ... a fucking good build-up into something incredible. He couldn't believe what he felt. Every single fibre of his body. His muscle-fibres ... His hair tingling. His bodily ... His ... He was ... Build-up ... wave of power ... lift heavier than ever before ... his jock-mind inside his jock-body ... the POWER-gains of his jock POWER-body ... He ... His Hancing career had just begun. "I didn't ask you about your name, Bro? Are you ok?" "More than ok ... name ... hard to remember ... look at me! Look at these gains! My name ... Uh! My name is ... Brad, and I'm ... uh ... I'm ..." Build-up. Power wave. Jock body. Lift heavier than ... Real Hancer now. GAINZ. Yeah! "MY NAME IS BRAD MAXXX, AND I'M A BEEFY ST00PID JOCKBOI!!!" * * * Chapter Five may be found HERE
  20. gayboyswag

    m/m Trey's Growth Part Two

    Part two to Trey's growth, like last time I'm gonna warn you that This story will contain a bunch of my fetishes. I'm not sure exactly where it will go yet though. I do know that it will include incest, macro, muscle growth, straight to gay, and musk. If any of those offend you, this won't be the story for you. After the wonderful sex with James, Trey sat worried on his couch. In his efforts to grow big fast, he didn't even begin to think about how the rest of the world would see him. But James's comments about work brought him back to reality. His dad would be home from his own job shortly, and would be expecting to see the short shrimpy boy that Trey formerly was, not the grown, muscular man that he had turned into. Trey began to walk to the bathroom, his now large soft cock flopping as he walked. He examined himself in the full body mirror. Now standing approximately six feet tall, Trey looked nothing like his former self. His body was strong and defined, and covered in hair, a sharp contrast from his twig like frame. On top of that, his face looked different too. Well, he thought to himself, not exactly different, just more... mature. He still had the large brown eyes and Roman nose, along with his larger than average lips, but the face itself was different. No longer round and boyish, he now had a strong jawline, and had lost any remnants of baby fat on his angular, chiseled face. He stared at his body again, realizing that he was exactly the type of guy he would have gone for. If anything, maybe a little small. His cock started to harden, from a soft 4 inches to its full, nine inch mast. I can't believe I'm getting hard at my own reflection, Trey thought to himself. But he couldn't stop. He was so damn horny. Trey grabbed his large cock in his meaty paws, and began to jack off. For the first time in his life, Trey used two hands, instead of his earlier two finger technique. His hands stroked up and down his thick tool, and played with his big bull balls, as he slowly stroked to erection. On a whim, Trey pinched his own nipples. A jolt shot through his body as his cock jumped. Damn that feels good he moaned, and continued to stroke. Trey felt an orgasm building as he rubbed his hairy chest with one hand and frantically jerked his cock with the other. His cock was leaking precum like a faucet. Finally, he couldn't hold it any longer. With a loud moan, Trey shot all over the mirror. Eight strong spurts of cum ran down the mirror, as the final shot trickled down over his inflamed cock head. Suddenly feeling self conscious, Trey cleaned up the mess with a towel the best he could, and headed to his room in order to find something to wear. Unsurprisingly, nothing fit. Trey tried to cram his body into the small clothes, but everything either looked ridiculous, tight on his body and unable to close up, or it just ripped from the strain of being put on. With that, he headed to his father's room. Trey's father had been the polar opposite of Trey. Standing at 6'2” and 210 lbs, the beefy construction worker was all man. The only thing that they had shared was a name, Trey being actually Raymond Warren III. Ray, the former football player had kept in great shape as the years went by, and only a slight gut and graying hair belied his true age, 39. Trey threw open his father's closet and began to look for clothes that would suit him. Giving up on finding anything in his style after a quick glance, he finally settled for an old college t shirt, slightly too small for his father, and a pair of jeans. With that, he heard the garage door open. Trey panicked and began to throw on the clothes. The jeans were slightly baggy on his muscled frame, but he couldn't find a belt. He began to slip on the shirt as he heard his father enter the house. “Trey, I'm home. You there?” the bear of a man called in through the door. “Yeah dad, I'm just in my room,” Trey yelled back, not remembering his deeper voice for a second. He quickly ran through the hallway into his room, shirt still half on. “You sound funny, boy. Are you getting sick or something?” His father asked from the kitchen. “Yeah I think so,” Trey finally answered, thankful that his dad had given him an out. “Anything I can do to help?” Ray asked. “No I'm good.” Trey responded, feeling guilty. Even though he and his father weren't alike in either size or in interests, his dad was great. After Mrs. Warren ran off when Trey was a baby, the two of them had been together, with his dad, who while encouraging Trey to play sports and be active, never seemed upset that Trey had been more of a band and chess club kind of kid. He also took the news of Trey being gay shockingly well, even if he did follow up Trey coming out with saying that he had thought Trey might be “a homo or something.” But he had immediately redeemed himself by hugging his son and saying he'd love him no matter what. Trey sat back in his bed and thought about what to do. He couldn't avoid everyone he knew forever, but with his new body, he'd barely pass as the old Trey. He sat on his bed and realized he was still sweating, massive stains beginning to show on the pits of his father's t shirt. There was a knock on his door. “I brought you some soup, sport,” his father said, as the doorknob began to turn. Trey shuddered, there was no avoiding what was going to happen. At that moment the door opened, his father took one look at the stud on the bed that had been Trey, and gasped, dropping the bowl to the ground. “Trey... Is that... you?” His father finally asked after a period of uncomfortable eye contact. “Yeah dad,” Trey responded. “I'm finally a big guy, huh?” Ray just looked at his son. “This is insane. You're all grown up.” He stared at the bulging muscles under the t shirt. “And you look so strong too.” “Like I said,” Trey answered, “something weird happened.” “Should I call a doctor?” “No I think I'm fine. Just sweaty,” Trey answered. “And I don't have anything to wear.” Ray looked at his son, wearing his baggy clothes. He admitted to himself that his son would look much better in something less baggy, that showed off his new definition, then wondered quickly where that thought had come from. “Well in that case, why don't we clean up this soup and then I'll make you a real meal. You must be starving. We can head to town tomorrow to get something new for you to wear.” “Sounds great dad.” Trey answered, and then climbed out of bed. His dad and him together began to mop up the soup, and sweep up the broken glass. As he stood in close quarters to his dad, the pheromones began to do their work, not that Trey noticed. But he did notice their effects. His dad seemed to have a raging erection. Trey pretended he didn't notice. After they finished cleaning up, he told his dad he needed to take a shower. Ray agreed, and said that he'd make them dinner while Trey washed up. In the shower, Trey soaped up his body. He wondered to himself if all the sweat was a side effect of the pills, or just his body growing. Either way though, he was covered in it. As he cleaned himself off, his cock began to get hard again. He thought of his father's erection at his body, as he began to jerk off. Trey sat in bliss, jerking his meaty tool until he was brought back to reality by a call from the kitchen. “Dinner's ready son,” his dad's deep voice yelled out. Trey groaned and painted the shower wall in his thick cum. “I'll be down in a minute,” he responded. After washing off the cum, Trey came out of the shower. He toweled his body dry when he realized his mistake. The only clothes he had near him that fit were covered in sweat. Wearing just the towel, he walked over to his father in the kitchen. “Hey dad?” he asked. “Can I borrow something else to wear? Nothing of mine fits anymore, remember?” Ray stopped what he was doing and stared at his sons body. Out of his clothes Trey was even more impressive. With his massive, hair covered pecs leading down to a treasure trail lined six pack, and the large biceps on display, his son was a true man. His eyes shot down, seeing the prominent bulge in front of his sons towel. His own 9 incher began to make his pants tent out. He must have been staring for quite some time because his son asked again, “Dad can I borrow something to wear?” Ray shook his head and came to. “Sure son, just pick anything from my drawers and set the table. I need to go to the bathroom.” Trey went up to get dressed as his father made a bee line to the bathroom. The room smelled like musk and cum, no doubt from Trey's previous actions in the room. He sat down on the toilet and took his own thick cock in his hand, and, for the first time in his life, jacked off to the images of a man. His own son, no less. Trey came down and set the table, wearing a pair of jeans from the back of his dad's closet and another old t shirt, he had finally found something that almost fit him, if it was hilariously out of style. But clothes were clothes at this point he thought to himself. His father came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, seeming flustered and a bit embarrassed. Trey didn't notice, however, being more concerned with stuffing his face with the burgers his dad had made. “These are great.” Trey commented, his mouth still full of food. “Glad you like em, sport,” Ray answered, stealing glances at his son as he ate his own burger. “I knew you'd be hungry after all that growing.” Four burgers, countless fries, and a salad later, Trey stopped eating. Ray sat at the table with his son, as they began to talk about their respective days. Ray related a story about his manager at work, while Trey talked about his day at the mall, and what happened when he grew, sparing his dad the details of the store front and the sex with James. His father looked intrigued. “What exactly sparked this random growth spurt?” he asked his son. Trey decided to come clean. “Well, I found these pills, and they made this happen.” Ray looked shocked. “Steroids? Even those don't work this fast.” Trey shrugged. I don't know dad. All I know is I took more than I was supposed to, and then this happened.” Ray still sat there, his mouth open. “I could show you if you don't believe me,” Trey said after a long pause. Ray was torn, part of him knew that this was a bad idea, that his son had already grown so much so fast, and any more could cause some real problems. Another part of him, a newly awakened part, would very much like to see his son grow huge and grow fast. The new part won out. “Go ahead Trey, he said, “Let's see this thing work.” Trey smiled and grabbed the jar of pills from the corner of the kitchen. Grabbing two pills and popping them in his mouth, he washed it down with a glass of water. “Last time it worked pretty fast,” he said, “so if you don't mind I'm gonna take off these clothes.” Trey's father more than didn't mind, the mere idea of seeing his son naked was very exciting to him all of a sudden. “Go ahead sport.” Trey stripped off his clothes, and stood naked in front of the man who had raised him. His soft cock sitting nestled in his prominent bush, hanging over his big balls. Ray's own cock was throbbing in his pants, and the show was yet to begin. First, Trey's frame began to stretch out, growing about four more inches, surpassing his father's own height of 6'2”. Then his body began to fill out. First his biceps, expanding from merely 15 inches around to an impressive 18 inches. He was beginning to look more like a lineman than a linebacker, as his pecs also expanded, growing hard and powerful. His nipples truly pointed down now. His six pack hardened further, becoming like defined bricks on his tight stomach, as his quads and calves expanded to become those of a hardened weightlifter more than a soccer player. His body hair grew thicker and more defined as well, becoming like a carpet across his pecs, and coating his abs, but not to the extent that they hid the definition. Then the last muscles in his body expanded. Trey's balls stretched to the size of tangerines and hung low in his sack and his cock began to stretch even farther. Soft now it had to hang six inches. As a final touch, his jaw became even more square, and grew from stubble to a short beard, maybe two days' growth. His body was covered in sweat by the time his growth slowed to a stop. “It went kind of like that, dad,” he said to his shocked father. Ray wasn't hearing a word of that. But the deeper voice sent him over the edge. He came hard in his pants, leaving a large wet stain. “Trey...” he moaned. “That was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” Ray smiled as he said it but still seemed embarrassed by the fact hat he was so turned on by his son. Filled with lust and remembering the effect that he had had on his friend, Trey smiled. “You haven't even seen the best part yet,” Trey said, as he began to flex. Striking the double bicep pose from earlier, his thick armpits became exposed. His father felt the effects immediately and began to get hard again. The pheromones filled the air, and Ray became overcome with lust for his stud of a son. He stood up and walked over to Trey, before asking, “May I?” Trey smiled, knowing exactly what his dad wanted. “Yeah dad, but let me see you first.” His dad grinned at the idea, and stripped down himself. Ray wasn't bad looking either. His small gut from drinking too much beer was covered in the same salt and pepper black hair that lay thick on his head, and his visible pecs had the same coating. His own biceps were large, but not as big or defined as his son's had become, and as he stripped off his pants it became apparent just how turned on Ray was by all of this. His own, nine inch cock was throbbing, with the slightly upward curve causing precum to run down the underside. Below that hung a nice pair of testicles, almost as big as his own sons had become, which sat atop thick thighs and strong legs, more those of a man who worked for a living than gym-built muscles. Trey was insanely turned on by his bear of a father, and his cock throbbed to its new length of 12 inches long and as thick as a beer can. Seeing this caused Ray to be pushed over the edge. His cock gave one final throb, and then he shot his load, coating his sons furry abs in his cum without even touching his cock. “I'm sorry,” Ray said. “Let me clean that up.” Ray leaned forwards, and began to lick his own load from the hairy muscleman's sweaty abs. He still didn't know why he was doing this, knew it was wrong to be doing to his son, but too turned on to care. He began to lick and suck on his sons chest, going up and chewing on the nipple and licking at his thick armpits. Then he began to lick down Trey's body. All Trey could do is groan as his father had his way with him. He stood there as his father's tongue gave his body immense pleasures. His cock, too, was throbbing without being touched. “Hey dad,” he said, feeling cocky. “You're missing my best muscle.” With that Trey jacked his cock a few times in his hand, before letting his dad take over. His father took over immediately, giving Trey's cock the same lavish attention that he had given the rest of his jacked body. He'd take the cockhead in his mouth, and play with it with his tongue, before removing it and licking up and down the sides of the hot dick. He'd occasionally take a break from the cock entirely to start to lick and suck on the huge balls and play with Trey's muscular ass. But he'd always return to the cock. “Oh shit,” Trey moaned, “I can't take much more of this.” Ray smiled, and grabbed Trey's ass, pushing as much as the cock down his throat as he could. About six inches were down Ray's mouth when he decided to put his son over the edge. He stuck a single finger in Trey's muscular ass, feeling his son's prostate. With that Trey shot his massive load. Ray moaned as he tried to suck down the whole thing. Although mouth of his son's load made it down his throat, it was too thick and came out too fast, and he drooled cum down his chin and onto his own pecs. He stood up, and looked up at his son. “Fuck that was great” he said, his rock hard cock straining as it brushed Trey's leg. Ray looked down at himself, and wiped off some of the cum. He licked it up. “Let's keep going in my room,” Ray said to his son, clearly not feeling uncomfortable any more. Trey couldn't agree more, and followed behind his father, watching his hot ass as they walked, thinking of the pounding he was going to give it. Little did they know, the drugs coursing through Trey's body caused a powerful effect on men when they are consumed, especially in the form of semen. ******************************* So I've decided to write a bunch more parts, because honestly writing this story made me horny as hell, and it got a great response last time. I'm not sure how much yet, but I can assure you you haven't seen the last of Trey's growth.
  21. The Prelude to this story may be found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter One HanceCon 8 was over. Max had disembarked the Zepp (which was what carbo-penalty he could afford on his wage, and was also in line with his editors' environment policies) a few hours earlier, and he was back home, writing on his Google-top. His series of articles about "rogue players in hancing-business" was ready to go, and there was enough material for his series about affluent elder men (or women) – "hulk-daddies" and "hulk-mummies" – taking advantage of financially disadvantaged teenagers or young men who wanted to get big by hancing. His trip to HanceCon had been a part private and part professional affair, and he had to work late, in order to post the multi-media article which summed HanceCon 8 up. Rob. Rob Nelson. A delicious shiver rushed along his spine, when he remembered the night spent with none other than Rob Nelson himself and his husband Nate "The Machine" Nelson, one of World Hancer-wrestling Championship's household names. It was part work-related: The seemingly very honest interview with "The Machine" about lost opportunities was journalistic gold. He had to listen to that clip again: "You know, when I was younger, I competed in MMA, and I had dreams about participating in Strongman competitions after hancing, but after hancing – a very experimental and pioneering hancing experience of the sort that existed, back then – and after the Strongman sport came to terms with the existence of hancing, Hancers were forbidden to participate in any baseline sports ..." "Do you regret hancing?" (pause) (a sigh) "Regret? No, not regret ... I loved the experience, and I love my life as it is now ... I'm devoted to WHC, and I love my fans out there ... but I just want young baseline lads out there considering hancing ... You need to know, that hancing shut some doors, and open other doors up. You can't combine dreams about baseline sports with being a Hancer. You have to realise that, before you make an irreversible decision." But other aspects of the night at their hotel room had been less work-related. He hadn't planned to encounter Rob. It had just been a lucky coincidence, that the hero from his teenage years had calmed big little Brawn down. Max had mentioned those old commercials to Rob. That caused Rob to laugh and show those shiny teeth in that suntanned testosterone-radiating well-preserved midlife-face: "The first commercials were ridiculous, I know! Do you remember the one, in which our marketing director dressed me up in a He-Man outfit, and had me read the script: 'Hey, buddy! Do you have what it takes, to absorb the power of Greyskull? If you have, call number MEG-AG-ROWTHNOW today! I HAVE THE POWER!'" Rob had changed his voice, and imitated the old commercial very well. Max had blushed. "We had to pay Hattel-Masbro a lot of money to allow us to use their character, but it payed off in the long run. It was just after the remake of the remake of the movie was released." "Hey, Robbie. He's one of them.", 'The Machine' said. Max blushed, and felt embarrassingly horny. "One of whom?" Rob laughed again. Deep nice laugh. Those penetrating icy blue eyes. That platinum blond crewcut. Max blushed. "I will not ask you anything private, Max, but let me tell you, that I receive a lot of i-mails, g-mails and a-mails from fans, who tell me, that they had their first orgasm, when they watched that commercial or one of the other early – cheesier – commercials. The days when rationing ended were carefree and silly and playful in my whereabouts. All that pent-up need for fun and games after the Crisis, the War and the early Post-War Years. Most of those commercials were prohibited in the Confederacy, the Continuing Russian Federation and Rump-China, and we had to produce censored versions of a few of them for the market in Rump-UK, because of the political campaign Decent Media in a Decent Wessex-Anglia, but they were a success in the rest of the world. Despite the backlash more recently, Saudi youth were eager to embrace everything new immediately after the Revolution, and young lads in the Siberian Federation loved it. The negative side of the latter fact, was the rise of rogue players in hancing-business operating in the Siberian Federation, because of the lack of regulations, but I guess you have encountered that in your investigations." "Shut your trap, Robbie. Can't you see, that he's not just a journo, but a Hancer-fanboy, too?", 'The Machine' interrupted. The Machine flexed his biceps. "Do you like the sight of this? I bet you like the sight of this?" Rob fell silent. A playful glint awakened in those icy blue eyes, and then he tensed his biceps, too. "Yeah, son. Watch this! How about TWO Hancer-blokes showing you what they've got?" Rob rose from the Grande-sized hotel bed, all his 7 feet, moved considerately all their glasses of vodka to a safe distance from any movement, stood there – all his 880 pounds of conditioned muscle – with his powerful legs wide apart, made a double biceps-pose, met Max' gaze and roared in that exaggerated commercial-voice: "I HAVE THE POWER!" That caused the first of Max orgasms that night. It had been followed by several. The night had turned out very satisfactory for all parts involved. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE
  22. I just continued the story as I imagined it would take place; consider it a parallel story to theseventhwave's very hot series, The Symbiote War. Of course, acknowledgements go to theseventhwave. The moment the door closed and I heard Shawn‘s heavy footfalls receding down the hallway, I began fiercely struggling against the steel bedframe, in whose twisted grip I found myself. It was no use. The twisted metal bands of the bed were so tightly wound around my wrists, there was no way to squeeze my hands through. I tossed and turned for what felt like an hour. At some point, I gave up and looked forlornly around the room, looking for anything to assist me, or if not assist me, at least distract me from my predicament. My eyes settled on the little Inca figurine an aunt had brought back for me from Peru. She had told me it was of a priest, which I guess you could tell by the fact that he wore very colorful garb and his face was also painted. As he was facing my desk, I could only see his side profile, the sweep of his cape masking his body. I looked at its rustic browns and reds and must have passed out. The next thing I knew, there was soft knocking on the door, almost indistinguishable from the humming of the air conditioner. „Who‘s there?“ I yelled from the bed. „It‘s me,“ said a muffled voice on the other side. „Mark. We had a date tonight. When you didn‘t show up, I thought I‘d check on you!“ „I‘m trapped!“ I yelled through the door. „The key‘s under the doormat! Let yourself in!“ A moment later, I heard a key in the door and in came Mark, with a look of deep concern written on his face. He looked so sweet in his black polo shirt and skinny jeans. „My God, Corrigan! What‘s happened to you! Who‘s done this to you?“ „Ugh… it was Shawn“ I slurred. „He was waiting for me when I came back…he fed me this stuff“ I said, pointing to the flask on the night stand. „What is it?“ asked Mark, retrieving the flask and trying to find a label. „I don‘t know… he said he met some chemist who was into his body who gave it to him…“ „What‘s it for?“ asked Mark, looking seriously in my direction. „It… well –“ I stopped myself, because I didn‘t know if I was ready to cross that bridge with Mark. I thought about it for a moment, and then realized I had no choice. I told Mark everything, and as I was recounting the weird fetishistic horror of the past week, Mark and I hatched a plan. He would feed me the stuff in the flask, and suck my dick until I came. He needed to do it lots fo times in order to gain enough strength to bend the steel bars that were constraining me. „Are you sure you want to do this?“ Mark asked me finally. „It‘s our only choice, Mark!“ I replied. I certainly trusted Mark more than I did Shawn. Who knows what awaited me if I simply lied here for him. „Shouldn‘t I rather get the RA and try to find some tools to cut you loose?“ „We don‘t have time, Mark! Shawn could be back any second, and what then!“ So Mark got to work. It wasn‘t hard for him to get me hard. The tincture helped with that. And under his ministrations, I was burbling precum down his throat in no time. I could feel his back expanding in his black polo shirt immediately after I came the first time. He fed me more of the liquid and, in no time, I was cumming down his throat again. This went on for at least half an hour. I got into it, holding Mark‘s soft brown hair in my hands, face fucking him with fury and feeding him fuel for growth, which he accepted with more and more ferocity, moaning more loudly and relishing the growth – a virtual feedback loop – until I heard some ripping and popping noises: Mark‘s polo shirt was ripping at the seams. As he went to take it off, the sleeves also burst from his swollen biceps. He struggled to get the ripped and shredded fabric over his torso. Once on the ground, he got to work again. Mark was really quite huge now, and as he looked up into my eyes with a loving glance, he cocked one arm and I watched the biceps swell to the size of a coconut, a thick vein running across its peaked center. I tried to lift him up, he went to kiss me, but I had other plans. I planted my face under his arm. The muscled armpit was heaven, a deep masculine gorge, a slight pelt coating its musky innards, the deep curve of his bulging lat sweeping out, dripping with my spit and sweat from the exertion of muscular growth. His arm was capped with an enormous delt head, which made him look sso incredibly masculine. I rubbed one hand all over it, while I rubbed his dense and corded back with the other. His traps now nearly reached to his ears, his cute face the only resemblance to the old Mark that had timidly knocked on my door a half hour ago. In his place, an imposing giant squatted between my legs. I kissed him on the lips and said, „Now, Prince Charming, rescue me!“ „Let‘s see if this is enough power,“ he answered, smirking. He struggled with the bars, which started to give way. Just then, I heard voices at the door. Mark turned around just as Shawn and Greg, the guy who sucked me at the gym, entered the room. Both were dripping in sweat and visibly flushed, apparantly having finished an intense workout. Greg was wearing a gaudy yellow stringer and some baller shorts, his thick calves pushing out from underneath. Shawn had changed into some spandex pants and was shirtless, his huge cockmound looming imposingly behind the black material. His expansive chest heaved, covered in a sheen of wet droplets that ran down the crevice of his pecs and dispersed in the labyrinth of his abdominals. „What the fuck? Is there a party here?“ asked Shawn, a cocky grin on his face. „I‘ve come to take Corrigan. Your abuse has traumatized him. This ends now!“ said Mark, in a tone that I wasn‘t accustomed to hearing from him. „Well he wasn‘t complaining earlier“ said Shawn with a grin, and winked over at me. I felt my stomach turn. „Hey Greg,“ he said, turning to the other built bro, „I told you you could enjoy your protein shake here in my dorm, so there‘s the tap! Enjoy, while I take care of this loser.“ Shawn‘s pumped and sweating frame approached Mark and the two started scuffling, Shawn punching Mark in his firm abs, and Mark pushing Shawn back onto the ground. The two muscled bodied heaved back and forth. I saw the Inca priest tumble from his perch. Other objects were strewn around the room as the two tussled for dominance. Meanwhile, Greg made his way over to me, smiling with a sly grin. Pulling his stringer over his head, exposing his pumped pecs and rippling delts, he smiled over at me in a sultry way. „Hello Corrigan,“ he cooed. His glance fell on the bottle on the nightstand. „This must be the formula Shawnie was talkin‘ about.“ He grabbed the bottle and straddled my torso. „Get off… of me!“ I shouted at him, tossing left and right but still unable to budge from the spot. „Now, now, Corrigan. That‘s no way to behave yourself“ was the only reply. Greg grabbed my chin and forced my mouth open, pouring way too much of the liquid down my throat. The reaction was almost immediate. I felt that familiar warmth travelling down to my cock, and Greg pushed himself between my spread legs and got to work. He vacuumed up my swelling cock and violently bobbed his head back and forth, getting my cock and balls and thighs slick with spit. All the while, grunts and shatters could be heard as Mark and Shawn wrestled for dominance and destroyed everything in their wake. Shawn had some size on Mark and also enjoyed the advantage of being on the wrestling team. At the moment, Shawn was on top of Mark and had him in a headlock. Mark was struggling for breath and looked up at me with tears streaming down his eyes. Mark managed to elbow Shawn in the gut, but the wall of muscle took the blow with little shock. Shawn grabbed Mark‘s bulging arm and began turning him around, removing his own spandex shorts in the process. Soon, his tube steak‘bobbed freely, swinging with the rhythm of struggle. „That‘s right, fucker,“ spat Shawn, „now you see who‘s numero uno, who‘s the alpha.“ He ground against Mark, letting his big sausage slide between Mark‘s pert butt, the river of pre acting as lubricant. All the while, Greg was hoovering up my precum and growing ever more heavy as he straddled my legs. I saw his pecs, jiggling with muscle, his large nipples pointing straight down, his thick traps and full delts, the dick-skin stretched tight and veins visible. Fuck, I wasn‘t going to last long, these huge muscles were really turning me on! I cast a look of defeat as I caught Mark‘s gaze. He was turning blue and looked about to pass out. Shawn was pistoning in and out of his muscular ass, deep dicking him for what it was worth, all the while holding Mark in the tightest of chokeholds. His monstrous biceps bulging in every direction and preventing Mark from catching any breath. Shawn smiled up at me as he continued rutting. I couldn‘t last much longer. Shawn was aware of this, laughed and looked at me: „thought you‘d get away, little buddy! I hope you‘re ready for a night of fun, because my bro and I have quite the program planned for you!“ As he said this, I recalled the hot rape session earlier and blew my load into Greg‘s waiting throat. He was ready and greedily sucked up everything I had to give. I felt him growing between my legs, the veins criss-crossing his arms growing all the more pronounced, his back expanding even wider. At the same time, I heard Shawn moan loudly. He released the now-limp body of Mark, whose girth fell to the floor with a loud thud, and came up to the bed, enjoying the sight of Greg growing before his eyes. Greg did a double biceps pose and I couldn‘t help stay stiff as a flag pole watching the muscle pile on his already large frame. Suddenly, Shawn was next to me, whispering in my ear: „you want my sausage inside you, little buddy?“ „Fuck you!“ I shouted. Before I could say more, Greg had shoved his now 11 inch tool down my throat. I couldn‘t do anything but allow him to face fuck me. I felt another body on the bed, as Shawn positioned hismelf between my legs. He placed his 14 inch monster at my spit-lubed hole. He rammed himself in and his dick graced my prostate almost immediately. Precum spurt out of my cock, which Shawn grabbed and licked off his fingers. I could feel him swell a bit more inside me. At this I moaned around Greg‘s large member. This caused him to thrust in deeped, his back sliding against my cock, which dripped more precum onto him. I felt his cock swell just a bit in my throat. Jesus, I thought. This is fucked up and yet I couldn‘t help but get off completely by being abused by these two monsters! What was I to do? Resigned to my helplessness, I started pushing my ass back to meet Shawn‘s huge member, doing my best to regulate my breathing as the second cock ravished my throat. All the while, I thought of that room full of pungeant, masculine muscle jocks, using me to get even bigger. I could see Shawn‘s enormous sweating shoulders, rippling with freakish muscle, behind Greg‘s slightly smaller, but equally impressive frame. I looked up at Greg‘ ripped cobblestone abs, his happy trail that led up to perfect square pecs and perfect nipples. I reached out and squeezed Greg‘s nipples. He leaned back and moaned and again brushed my cock, which was hard as a lava stone, as I felt him swell again in my mouth, I reached the point of no return and shot load after load into the air, some landing on Greg‘s back, some on Shawn‘s abs. Both mean moaned and came in unison. Shawn‘s already enormous fuckstick taking up even more space in my ass as it continued to slowly piston and unloaded its hot juices inside me, and Chris‘ cock choking me in a torrent of salty cum, the head growing and suffocating me. I was overwhelmed in pleasure tinged with foreboding and guilt. „Fucking awesome!“ said Shawn and, turning around to Mark‘s body, „too bad your buddy couldn‘t join in the fun!“ Turning back to us, Shawn – obviously the alpha in the room, with Mark knocked out – asked „whose ready for round three?“ „Fuck yeah“ came the response from Greg, who was standing in front of our door, admiring the growth in the mirror. And what growth it was. The multiple loads had further converted Greg into a formidable form. „But first, do y‘all have a scale?“ „Yea bro, just down the hall in the bathroom!“ Shawn answered, himself glancing in the mirror and bouncing his humongous pecs as the space before the mirror cleared. Shawn was truly Godly. He could hold par with the hugest super heavyweight bodybuilders. His thighs were thicker than his waist, his pecs were shapely masses even with his arms over his head. His neck was at least as thick as his head. His lats would make it difficult to enter the room normally, or walk through any door. And swinging between his legs, the largest and fattest dick I had ever seen. Shawn glanced at me through the mirror, smirking as he saw my hard-on. „So little buddy, I see you like what you see! We‘re going to have alot of fun with you now…“ He turned around and said, almost lovingly, „you love making me like this, don‘t you Corrigan?“ „Fuck you!“ I spat. „Untie me!“ Shawn approached the bed, his huge pole leading him toward my prone form. Marc‘s unmoving body lay crumpled on the floor. Greg would soon return from his auto-worship session. I didn‘t know how this would end… God, what was going to happen to me? To follow my own transformation to Pure Muscle™, visit here.[
  23. Trio

    m/m Anídeos: Chapter 5

    Before we begin with the chapter 5 of this saga, some observations: This is the most complex chapter and it might bore some readers, if you are here for the muscle growth, I suggest you advance to the end of the chapter. This saga is coming to an end soon, one more episode or two and it shall be completed. I hope you like it. What happened shocked the scientists. There was something they were missing on the equation of the pattern of behavior of those creatures, none could have predicted they would do something like this to one of them. Later that day, they gathered to discuss the issue, how to proceed next. Everyone was in eager of saying something on the matter, so the environment was an agitated one. "Clearly there is a threat, they claimed Noah!" "Is that a threat or a breach in our security? How could we let him go to meet Anthony?" "We had no idea that this could happen, it is not our fault! And we needed their sample, how are we going to proceed with our studies?" "There is simply no precedent to what happened today, in history. We also have to discuss if a crime was committed" "They did not killed Noah, they just... changed him. It was no crime. The formula is within their system, and they have the means to spread it as they please. This formula, is the one we've been looking for, one capable of turning humans into supersoldiers, this was precisely what happened, Noah transformed into one of them. It's a landmark. They should not be punished, but cherished! Noah is the future of warfare!" "With this speech, we should've sent you to them, Alfred, not Noah" "It would've been an honor. But on regarding what we should do, we have some options: Either we continue with the study as it is, or we integrate them into the army of the colony, and send them to train with the soldiers on the barracks, see how they would interact with the others." "No, we can't let this happen to our soldiers!" "And why not? It is not our intention for now to produce legions of supermen, but if it happens, I say that is a pleasant side effect" "If we'd consider doing that, we would have to contact our superiors, this is supposed to be a secret experiment!" "We will just integrate them into this legion for now, in the future, it is to be hoped, we'll be able to open up about the project" They kept on discussing what to do, and while this happened, the would be soldiers were still receiving Noah, now Enok, as one of their own. He was proud of his new power, his new muscles, his new body, his new lust. He was, for the third time, masturbating and wasn't slowing down on his need, his new brother in arms let him enjoy his new life while exercising and flexing for each other. After a while, Enok spoke: "I received a blessing from you, Anthony, and for that I'm grateful, brother" "Call me Zeus, Anthony is dead, buried deep within my mind" "Zeus, king of the Olimpus, very suitable name" "We have the need and desire to spread the seed within all. If it was in my power to decide, all of you would have been transformed, but me and my brothers need to contain ourselves, our life is only beginning, we will have plenty of opportunities to do so”. A day passed and they still were in the grey room, their new home, preparing for a war they never seen before, but as their minds reprogrammed, they were knowledgeable about it. Two days passed, and then a third one. After this time of silence between them and the scientists, the declaration: “Sublime Soldiers, hear that: you are to be integrated to the legion of this present barracks and to the army of this colony. You will be reallocated to the dormitories effective immediately. Follow the path that will be presented. End of transmission.” The door of the grey area opened, and even if no human came to show them the way, they knew what to do. Going to the end of the corridor, they went to the elevator of the facility, and returning to the surface, they were put in another truck, being transported to the barracks that was close to the complex. The regular soldiers of the barracks were told that new special recruits were to be received by them. Most of them were clueless on the project, and received the sublimes with awe. Both the scientists and the government knew their actions were a gamble, and not sure how to proceed, the sublimes were told to adapt to their new place and to integrate with the regulars. Their routine was straightforward, with them skipping feeding time though, and being put physical activities more intense than the others, something, specially Saturn, greatly enjoyed. Even with their sexual drive, their desire to spread their seed, their sense of duty was stronger, and their routine was purely martial. Their self control was huge. The soldiers of the colony were more of public workers than actual fighters, the colony took their defenses seriously, but wars were not common. Even so, they were put to physical activities, tests of strength, agility and so on, most of the soldiers had a good physique, specially one, on this barracks. Known as Brick, he was proud of his body that he acquired with much discipline and hard extra workout sessions. An exemplary soldier, was the biggest in the barracks prior to the arrival of the sublimes. He was like a brother to their comrades, but he saw with disdain their new colleagues. Considering them unworthy, he let his opinion be known to every recruit around him, while he’d flex his huge biceps in defiance. His insolence put the sublimes’s self control to the test, one of them, Enok, was particularly enraged by his attitude. Over the days, the tension was clear, until it explode. Brick mocked Enok, and him, at his limit, gave him a punch, before anyone could know, they were furiously in physical confrontation. Enok, even if transformed and incredibly powerful, was finding Brick, the human, to be a worthy foe, as he was incredibly strong and his muscles were impressive. He knew of Brick’s disgust for them, so he quickly thought of the perfect revenge. As the sublimes and the regulars tried to separate the both before the authorities could arrive, Enok’s natural needles, coming from his nipples and penis, were ready, and they promptly perforated Brick on his pecs and scrotum. “Now you will become what you hate, transform, transform, transform!” Brick tried to keep fighting Enok, but soon the pains in his body made impossible for him to do so, it all happened quickly. After the frensy, everyone gathered around Brick and watched him contort on the floor. He was already changing, his big muscles were in the process of becoming legendary, his pecs expanding, his abs being sculpted beyond comprehension, his clothes tearing apart and his screams turning to roars, his dogtag was dangling as he felt humiliated, he did his best to keep defiant, but his mind was at war. He resisted the transformation as much as he could, he was fighting against it, and the tragic thing is, the more he fought, the more his body changed, he observed with tears of anger in his eyes as his skin boiled and became steal, his dogtag integrated into his body, his bones were deeply changing and tall horns came from his skull. His mind resisted the reprogramming as it could, but his body was enjoying the experience and he was cumming in front of everyone, his cum getting dangerously closer to the other men. His cum that was being infected with the formula, and that could transform anyone. He roared and bellowed, cursing the changes and cursing the sublimes. As he became a God and changed beyond measure, he became a Sublime too. His cum finally touched a couple of soldiers around him, and even one scientist that came to experience the change got touched by it too. A legion of supermen was about to be born, a pleasant side effect, like Alfred said.
  24. Trio

    m/m Anídeos: Chapter 3

    “Who are you both? I ask again” Geoffrey was more confused than anything else, seeing both very muscular naked men, the embodiment of masculinity, in front of him. ”I should call for Dr. Anthony” ”No need, Geoffrey. I am Dr. Anthony. Or I used to be, I was reborn as Zeus a bit ago, your brother, Grant, was somehow transformed, and he gifted me his new powers.” Geoffrey was listening, even if he couldn’t understand. ”You are not Dr. Anthony... dad? This is... impossible” ”It used to be, son, but years of research have brought its fruits. The world will never be the same. Our world will never be the same. Me and the scientists have been working for the development of the serum for years, and it is a success! Not only one specimen, but a whole family!” ”No, this cant be! How did you both... I am too tired for this”. ”Not for long, brother. Our family is torn apart, we don’t share the same DNA anymore. But you can change this. Join us, brother, join us and be transformed.” ”I am too tired to deal with this, I’m leaving for a walk” He was reaching again for the door, but as he was walking outside of the lab, Zeus pressed a button, and the door was shut down. ”We need to discuss this in depth, son. You can’t turn your back on your family, your future brother in arms! You shall transform” ”No, I won’t, whatever is happening here, I am not taking part of this.” “Brother, you already are, you are stepping in our seed, which is everywhere on this lab. It will break through your shoes and enter in contact to your skin, transforming you. You can go the slow way, or let me offer you my gift” ”I am fine with my shoes, thank you” But the shoes were being eroded, and as he made another step, he slipped on the lake of cum on the lab, and fell on the floor. The cum entered in contact with his skin, causing a massive amount of pain, he screamed. ”GAH! This burns!” ”It is happening, brace yourself, you are about to turn into a sublime soldier” ”GAH! No! What... is... happening to me?” As his face and hands were covered in cum, his transformation was happening. He got into his knees and cried for help, but father and son were roaring with every cry. His body was growing, the thin angelical body of Geoffrey was metamorphosing. His abs came to life, so did his chest, his heart was beating strongly and he was still crying as his shirt was being torn apart by his growing muscles. ”GRAAAAAAAAAAAH” he shouted a deep gutural roar as his hair was burning with the cum in it, the cum covered his whole body, head to toe, passing through his nose and mouth, his eyes were burning as well, being remade. Zeus and Saturn watched with pride their new creation, the birth of the new brother in arms. ”So you are my father” said Geoffrey with a thick deep voice, still transforming, “Grant, whatever happened to you, fuck, this is good” ”You are turning into a God, embrace it” ”Roar, ROAR!” The transforming Geoffrey bellowed. His skin was being reformed, his muscles were at the height of his power, being transformed into a huge machine of war. His shoulders alone could sustain the whole world, his abs going as deep down to his cock as they could. And his fucking cock, stretching thick and powerful, reducing to nothing what was left of his shorts. ”I...... am... remade! How is this possible?” Geoffrey couldnt believe it yet. His whole body was covered in his new metalic skin, he was feeling a pleasure he never felt, and still, he couldn’t believe it 100%. He roared and bellowed as he was discovering his new body, touching himself and masturbating, cumming and passing his cum through his body. He was even stronger and more vigorous than Saturn. This was the birth of Apolo. Soon, his family greeted him, after he finished his pleasurable moment. ”We are one now. You joined us, the family is reunited”. The three roared, and proceeded to explore each other’s bodies in celebration. The soldiers were here, stronger than any scientist could ever dreamt of. Life would never be the same, neither for the new Men, neither for anyone else. But for now, pleasure reigned supreme in the house of Anthony.
  25. Trio

    m/m Anídeos: Chapter 2

    His father returned to the lab and saw the creature he unwillingly created. The creature then said, on a deep thick voice: "Hello father". "WHO ARE YOU?" "I am your son, Grant, or I used to be Grant, I'm not sure of my new name, now, I can't possibly go as Grant after this change, this metamorphosis. Thank you, Father, you did this to me, and I, in return, will transform you" "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT" "I must spread my seed, and you are bond to become my father and brother. I will transform you and you will become like me, only then can we become a family again. Only then can we be as equals. This research project is over, is a success, we will have long years to catch up, and this will be a new beginning, prepare yourself." Anthony first instinct was to run, and run he did, but Grant was faster. Grabbing his father, he gave him a hug, as if prepping his father for the upcoming transformation. Grant roared and siringes came from his nipples and into the body of Anthony. Much to his horror, the cock of Grant also injected his seed on Anthony's scrotum. It was painful and Anthony felt many things at once, as betrayal, confusion, anger, disgust. He wanted this to be over. It was a long minute, after that, Grant released his father, and said "It is done, you shall transform" And he did, Anthony couldn't handle the pain and went on his knees, crying, begging for mercy, asking why this was happening to him, Grant observed proudly. "You will enjoy this. Embrace your new being, father, you and I will be one!" The muscles of the man came to life, his pecs inflated, becoming like balls of so big, so strong, so powerful, so did his abs, every single ab enhanced and sculpted in a raw masculine way. He was roaring now, feeling pain, and resisting the pleasure. "FEEL THIS, FATHER, BECOME A GOD, EMBRACE THE TRANSFORMATION" The muscles of the man were a wonder to behold, his clothes were ripping now, slowly revealing an extremely powerful body, even more powerful than of his son. He was roaring, resisting as he could, but he knew it was a lost battle. His dogtag was revealed in the change, was hidden beneath his disappearing clothes, ripping sheets covering his powerful muscles. "YOU SEE THIS TAG, ANTHONY YOU ALWAYS WANTED THIS, EMBRACE, BECOME ONE WITH YOUR SON, WE ARE BROTHERS" "AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! UHHHH UGAH!!!!!!!!!!! I AM BEING REFORMED, I CANT RESIST ANY LONGER" "YOU WILL BE TRANSFORMED" "I WILL BE TRANSFORMED, SON" "DONT CALL ME SON, WE ARE NOT FATHER AND SON ANY LONGER, WE ARE SUBLIME SOLDIERS! CALL ME SATURN" "I WILL BE ZEUS" "YOU WILL BE REMADE" "I WILL BE REMADE" By each passing sentence, the voice of Anthony became octaves low. "YOU WILL IMPROVE YOUR PERFORMANCE" "I WILL IMPROVE MY PERFORMANCE" "YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE ENHANCEMENT WITHOUT WORRY" "TRANSFORMATION, I DEPOSIT MY LIFE IN YOU, CHANGE ME, I WANT MORE" "YOU WILL SUBMIT TO THE ENHANCEMENT WILLINGLY" "I SHALL TRANSFORM" "YOU ARE EAGER TO BECOME AN ENHANCED SOLDIER" "I AM A SUBLIME SOLDIER, AND I AM ZEUS, UGAH!" "YOU ARE PROUD TO BE ENHANCED" "I KICK MY CHEST WITH PRIDE, AND I EMBRACE YOU, SATURN" "YOU WILL SPREAD THE SEED" "I WILL SPREAD THE SEED" "YOU EMBRACE THE CHANGE WITH PASSION" "I EMBRACE IT WITH PASSION" "YOU WILL ROAR" "GROOOOOOWWWWWLLLLLLL" "ROOOOOAAAARRR" He tried to resist but he could not, and Anthony turned into Zeus. The transformation was over, and former father and son first bumped their chests in salutation, then hugged each other. They were reunited. Saturn knew Zeus had to release himself, so he dedicated of turning this into a rite of passage for his former father. Grabbing his huge cock, he masturbated his father with vigor, as he roared almost breathless, when he came, he licked his father seed, feeling stronger with every gulp.
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