Hanazin Warrior Academy (Continuation From Archived Stories)

[oliver904]

I recasted my character because I wanted to reface a pic off the internet, and maybe even write the continuity issues into the story later. Anyways, no biggie. I do my best, but I still write these stories one-handed lol Also, I created a 5 Houses Thing below, too. I covered my characters info for now, because I haven't really gotten to that part just yet. This is actually just the first part of a larger section I was working on, and I felt I hadn't posted in a while, so thought I'd break it up. Anyways, as always, hope you enjoy, and hope I don't disappoint.

 

 

OLIVER

As much as I wanted to try out this new body, I just couldn’t stop staring at it, having wiped my own warm, creamy fluids from the surface of the mirror I had haphazardly reconstructed several times just to get a better look after each detonation of my thick, still engorging 15-incher. It was weird though. I had easily figured out how to put the broken shards of glass back together, but not how to make any of the damage disappear—meaning, I basically psychically glued the mirror and window back together, but you could still see all the cracks and parts where pieces were missing or were forced to fit.

What? You’re judging me now. But it’s actually easy for a Hanazin to perform the matter manipulation cleanup and repair thing when the ability is written into your character’s abilities. It’s different when you’re just thrown into the world you created and forced to abide by the rules you hadn’t really fleshed out in your head or on paper. No, seriously, think about it. The reason Jason Jacobson could do this trick, and I couldn’t, is because I said so. But ask him how he does it—no really, ask him to explain to you how exactly he does it. Though I could be wrong, but likely he’ll only be able to give you a general idea of how it’s done, because I wrote him to just understand the concept, and it’s instinctual in a way for him. For me? I know I wrote that it can be done…I just never explained how exactly…and therefore the how doesn’t yet really exist.

But my inability to perfectly repair the mirror and window, and politely clean the room I had thoroughly jizzed all over, allowed me to swiftly realize something very important. I was no longer the creator of this world. I was a participant. Trust me. I tried to create the method in my head, explained it all out as a manipulation of molecular and atomic structure. Hanazins could manipulate the lenses of their eyes to be telescopic, but also adjust to see down to the smallest, microscopic level. And I could see the atoms, the molecules, the electrons, protons, neutrons, and could build the formulas in my head, no problem, with my new and advanced Hanazin mind, but still, I couldn’t make it happen. Did it need a catalyst? How do I make the reaction occur? It was like trying to figure out how to turn back time.

I had been all excited, and even remember saying, “I had created this power, and I knew what it was capable of. I knew what it could do.” Even now, I repeat those words to myself, mocking my own hubris. Yes, I knew what Hanazin powers could do, but I didn’t know how to do much of any of it. Maybe I was just too distracted with other things. I mean…. Come on!

My reaction to everything was honestly pretty damn close to the typical reaction any young Hanazin would have on his transformation birthday. I mean, it was like seeing the same face, only better, but seeing that better looking face on a body that wasn’t only better looking, but seemed entirely as if it were someone else’s! And like any young Hanazin, I stood there both grinning in joy and disbelief, wondering if it were a dream, pinching myself to wake up several times, and thanking God every time I just seemed to keep on dreaming. All the while, my massive cock was mindlessly starting its launch sequence.

My senses were picking up every detail, the scents, the sounds, the sights, the feeling of the air around me, and my added sixth sense was operating on overdrive. The more I moved around the room, or the more power I accumulated, the more I’d see of Sean, and the memories that had saturated the psychic energy of this space. Again, I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably saying that of course I can see memories of Sean. I created those experiences. But it’s different than having my own memories of the events, and seeing it all through Sean’s eyes, and feeling what he felt that day of his transformation, or that day he came home and couldn’t fit into any of his clothes because his muscles had grown too large. I even saw the event with Toby, and felt Sean’s apprehension.

And I can’t explain to you how that feels, the moment you realize it’s not a dream. Once my new Hanazin braincells had deduced through the most thorough and quickest scientific inquiry—the quickest I’ve ever performed—observation, elimination of theories, conclusive data—it soon became abundantly clear; the room I was standing in was, in fact, the same I had created almost 20 years ago. The superhuman race of men, the epitome of Alpha Males, all those stories I had been writing on whatever notebook I’d have on hand, or whatever keyboard I could use with only one-hand—AHEM! You get the picture…

This wasn’t a dream. It was a tangible reality that I had created. I didn’t even want to waste another moment thinking how this could possibly be happening, and instead just enjoy the fact that it WAS happening. And I may not understand a few things, but I could still understand the things that didn’t require much explanation. Because there are things that happen with a Hanazin body that happen regardless of how much I do or do not understand. I’ve been experiencing those things over and over, my mind having since transferred its focus on pleasure and fun and joy, rather than understanding concepts and pondering my place in this world. I just wanted to be able to simply enjoy being a part of it.

I wanted to touch every bit of hard, ripped muscle my hands could manage. I flexed a single bicep and watched the muscle jump up from my upper arm, flexed even harder, and new pulsating veins began to climb my shuddering muscle. One great thing I had put into the muscle growth abilities were that the entire body grows no matter which muscles are stressed—so everything looks perfect and proportional. So as my biceps rapidly pulsated and reshaped under my skin, the muscle defined perfectly in the one major muscle of the biceps and the one that gave you that fucking amazing peak—most especially when crowned by that thick vein that branched in a single cord or bifurcated outward to join another network to more efficiently carry the needed natural energy to the rapidly growing muscle fibers—sorry…I’m rambling because of all the excitement burning through me right now. There’s like this pent up beast inside of me that I’ve been waiting to set free my entire life, and as time passes, I feel I can’t hold back the urge to—

“FUUUUCK!” I roared, bending down into an intense most muscular flex, my traps pouncing upward, its budding vascular network throbbing and quickly joining the one at my expanding pecs. I didn’t realize how loudly I had shouted in my absolute thrilling ecstasy, or how much power had escaped from me, but almost simultaneously, the haphazardly repaired mirror exploded outward, the window followed, and shards of glass rained over me, painlessly striking my skin and coupled with my warm, testosterone-laced man cream that had detonated hands-free from my swollen, rock hard, sputtering cock. I blasted non-stop, jizz erupting from my engorged tip like an out of control paint gun, coloring the once dark blue walls of the room the pearl white palette of my cum. Viscous dollops continued to fall onto me with soft pafts or heavy plops, some of it still dripping from the ceiling.

My breathing was heavy, after I had finished, but not due to fatigue, but instead credited to my now out of control, lust-filled mojo that even I did not know yet how I would satiate its hunger.

I glanced over at the shattered window pane—the same Parker Jameson had used to jump out and over the lake when he, too, had found himself in Sean Archer’s bedroom.

My feet crunched over the broken glass or shattered pieces of whatever hadn’t survived my outflow of climatic energy, and all around me my jizz was still intermittently falling from the ceiling, like how rain falls from the trees you walk under after a heavy storm.

I stared into a broken shard of window pane still attached to the frame and with my enhanced Hanazin sight, the reflection was as clear as if it were the mirror I had been staring into just moments prior. And god damn, did I look hot as FUCK!

I stood at, what had to be just by the estimate of my reflection, 7.5 ft tall, my massive, still throbbing and engorged dick bobbing just under my pecs, the muscle of my chest vibrating to almost a hum as the striated fibers rapidly reconstructed themselves and grew to their larger proportions. I watched as my skin seemed to become physically thinner, veins crawling over my now leaner physique, moving over my skin in a sort of spiderweb pattern, covering whatever real estate of my body that was left to occupy. The power radiated from me in a pulsar of invisible energy, the entire structure around me rattling, stronger quakes happening every ten seconds or so as my muscles further adjusted to the influx of energy. It was difficult, but I managed to look past my steel fuck rod, and down at my quads, the perfect teardrop-like muscle just finishing off its more massive formation, the veins flowing down my leg like the tortuous path of a newly born river, throbbing and retreating over and over until it found its permanence over the anterior and posterior surfaces of my widening calves and stopping just at the ankle. My entire body glowed in the rising sunlight, as the translucent fuzz that covered my smooth skin was finally showing itself.

“Well, that’s different,” I said to myself. I’m not entirely sure why I chose to say that now, after all the changes that had already occurred. Maybe it was because it was one of the more noticeable mutations I had experienced, along with the lighter complexion of my skin, and the red hair that now covered my head.

I figured my now ginger hair was the result of some detail, some part of my story background, the fictional genetics from a fictional father I had created in my head, and had yet to put down on paper. From that bit, I deduced that the ideas I had created could come into existence, even if they had not yet been written down or spoken of in the story I had made. I decided to test this theory more, actively going into my head and scanning through the memories I’d had if this theory were sound. As I thought, despite my strange appearance here in this world, and the odd chance that I’d appear here in the Archer household, the world was trying its hardest to make sense of what was occurring probably just as much as me.

But suddenly, something occurred to me. Something that you probably didn’t realize until now either. You were probably just as caught up in my body changing that you forgot I was standing in someone else’s home, in a fictional city I never named, in a neighborhood that didn’t exist until a few minutes prior. Did you forget until now, just as I did, or simply had failed to prioritize this bit of information—this house belongs to one of the most powerful Hanazin families in…well, existence! Next to the Stervis family, of course. But I didn’t sense anything. There were no Hanazin energy signatures anywhere in my proximity. The closest I could detect was about 50 to 60 miles north of me. At the very least, I knew from the detection of another Hanazin that I wasn’t the only one, and to my immediate relief, the Archers weren’t home at the moment.

I gave Sean’s room a once over. “Could be worse,” I said, just as a giant dollop of my still heaving sack’s fluid plopped onto the floor directly in front of me.

[oliver904]

***

I didn’t stay at the Archer house too much longer after my transformation. As much as I wanted to make sense of things, I honestly just wanted to enjoy this while I can. If this were a dream, I didn’t want to waste anymore time trying to figure out if it were real.

I had grabbed some clothes out of Sean’s room, stealing the only things that would really fit me; a white, sleeveless Henley, and a pair of black gym shorts that now were taut against the hard, ripped muscle of my legs. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to rise as high up my thighs as it did. I think the size of my legs, having doubled since leaving the house, had pushed the fabric higher to sit mid thigh. I had ran the entire 30 miles to the next town, to the only gym I knew that would be as crowded as I wanted it to be so early in the morning. The result for me was what felt like a brisk 5 minute walk, but what looked like a very energized and muscle building run for my entire body. The veins in my now 25” quads pumped and retreated beneath the skin, over and over in that cycle, spreading further downward with each throbbing reappearance, joining the thick network of pulsating and simultaneously climbing ivy-like cords of my calves.

The Cock Box was a gym with a rather humorous and unfortunate name. The owner Kelly ran the gym with his older brother Seth, their grandpa being the founder and passing it onto Kelly and Seth's dad, who in turn passed it onto his two sons. They’ve been in operation for 50 years. Ironically their store sign has been inoperable for just as long.

The actual name of the gym was Badcock’s Boxing, but at night, the massive neon pink and green sign would occasionally malfunction and read (xxx)Cock(xx) Box(xxx). Regardless of its unfortunate name, it was a gym with, ironically, more a dedicated roster of the hottest aspiring, and professional bodybuilders, exclusively men in their 20s to early 40s, rather than aspiring boxers--meaning more Mr. Universe, less Heavyweight Champion. So they swapped out the equipment for more gym equipment, but kept the name out of respect for Grandpa Badcock. I know these little details because I made them. Made them all up. It was supposed to be a fictional gym, existing only on paper or computer screens, or if you want to be even more meta, in the imaginations of readers like you. So I wasn’t even sure if it would be there when I had arrived. It was just another of my creations that was once just a fantasy. But there it was. Just as I had dreamed it up to be, crunched between a failed pet store and a boarded-up blood lab, in a nondescript strip mall.

And still, I entered the gym honestly not knowing what to expect. Clanging weights and loud, guttural grunting overpowered any bit of conversation. But I knew it likely wouldn't be long before I made the gym go completely silent. Every eye in the gym turned to me as I made my way on over to the back offices where new members would be convinced and sold on the benefits of joining the Cock Box. My shirt was tight against my bulging, and still shuddering and growing muscles, and I could almost palpably feel the stares, the envy; feel the lustful desires of each and every guy in the room. Such a new experience for me, having the envy of other guys--heady in a way. And it sent these jolts of excitement throughout every part of me. Enough to make the crotch area of my shorts feel a bit tighter.

"Good morning, sir!" The voice had come from behind me. It was deep and a bit rough around the edges, like the guys that did MMA at the gym I used to go to--the one in the world where all things Hanazin had existed only in my mind.

I turned around, suddenly more aware of the cramped space in my pants.

A massive man, easily 7'2" and well over 200 pounds of lean, ripped muscle, approached me with a clipboard and pen.

Kelly Badcock.

His pecs strained against the fabric of his black tank-top, and his face looked impossibly young and handsome for someone in his 40s, and not a bit of gray on his head of brown hair. I recognized him right away, and though he didn't know exactly who I was, he recognized WHAT I was. Kelly would know. The man wasn't entirely the everyday pro-bodybuilder.

Kelly Badcock was a Hybrid; a Human/Hanazin creation of mutated human DNA, resulting from the human body's reaction to the powerhouse of energy stored within the ejaculate of a Hanazin. Once Hanazin ejaculate is introduced to any of the mucus membranes of a human male, whether rectally or orally (or even in the eye, if one is so careless or kinky), the human body begins a process of evolution that doesn't take the typical thousands of years or generations, but evolution that takes place in only a few days. But once the excess energy from the ejaculate is processed in the human body, the body halts its evolution and a now hybrid man has to be given more from a Hanazin source in order to experience further growth, change, and transformation.

Additionally, the DNA of a Hanazin is Y-Chromosomal specific, and will not affect the gene coding on the X-Chromosomes. this is the reason why there are no Hanazin females, and no Hybrids either.

As a Hybrid, Kelly would be stronger than the average human by leaps and bounds, faster in much the same respect, and smarter than most members of Mensa--depending on how many playdates or "workouts" he'd had with a Hanazin. And by the looks of it, a good fair few. Even now, I could see the effects of recent change, spot areas of his body where the skin was stretched so tight that I could see through the almost transparent surface, see the blood rushing through broad veins that fed the latent growth of new harder than granite muscle fibers. I could hear a more efficient heart beating in his chest, even through the thick walls of his lean, striated pecs. Amazing, even if his body wasn't a full superhuman machine like my own.

And yet, as I gathered, Kelly suddenly realized the situation that had presented itself, and appeared as if he were having difficulty forming a sentence. Somehow he managed. "Y-you look new," he stammered. "Looking to sign up? Sign up here? At my gym, is what I meant."

"Just passing through," I said, offering a smile. My voice seemed to have gotten deeper and more powerful--like someone had turned up the bass. I must still be finishing the last bits of my initial transformation process. In much the same way my brown hair had lightened into a ginger color, my voice was settling into its permanent vocal tone.

Kelly nodded. Again Kelly would open his mouth to speak, but no works would leave him. This continued over an entire 30 seconds before he was finally able to speak again. "Can I make a request?" He scratched his head, looking away, but continued. "Promise not to destroy too much of anything--and if you can repair what you do, it would save us a lot of trouble and money.

"I say this as a motion for mercy, not a command, of course. I know my place in this world, as does everyone here, and we're all incredibly grateful for what people like yourself have given us."

Us? I felt my brow furrow at the mention of the word "us". And he had also said "as does everyone here..." Could he mean...

I turned slowly and scanned the room, looking a little closer at the patrons of the gym. It wasn't something I wrote into the story or background when I created it, but I wasn't sure if it was something I had subconsciously intended. Maybe... I'm really not certain.

"You're all hybrids," I said. "Every one of you here."

This time it was my turn to stare.

One of the guys doing concentration curls on the far end was lifting a 250 lb. dumbbell, and I continued to watch him up until his 50th rep, before turning to a guy on the bench press, who had stacked three 45 lb. plates on each side, my brain, in a millisecond, calculating the weight total to be 315 lbs. It didn't look like a walk in the park, but it didn't look as difficult as it should either, as an average, human pro-bodybuilder would normally be shaking to stabilize and lift the bar to and from his chest, most especially on the 30th rep. But this guy was as steady as a neurosurgeon, and his reps were slow and meticulous. His light, smooth skin was the perfect canvas for the incredible vascular network of thick and tortuous veins that covered his ripped body--a physique so lean that even while wearing a loose fitting tank, the folds of his shirt fell into the cavernous valleys of his six-pack abs. If I didn't already deduce by my short observation of the man, I could've mistaken him, or any of the other 30 or so gym patrons there as a full blown Hanazins.

But there was one clear indicator that gave their hybrid biology away. Sweat. And these guys were dripping in it. The smell of it and the accompanying testosterone sent a thrill through me like I've never felt. I swallowed hard, knowing it wasn't going to be too much longer until my massive, steel hard dick would rip through my shorts, my bulge already growing and engorging, dripping wet with my pre-cum.

Kelly nodded, towards my shuddering, leaking bulge. "Clothing is of course optional here," he said. "It's our pleasure to have you with us today, and you honor us with your--"

"There really is no need to tell me," I said, cutting him off. "At this point, I am fully aware of how much all of you here appreciate the patronage of a Hanazin."

And it was the truth. Everyone gathered there would likely pay me good money to simply have a taste of what I was planning to give out today, free of charge. I could hear their thoughts in my head, spot them glancing in my direction, smell their sexual musk bleeding off of them, as their bodies prepped for the upcoming event.

Kelly's eyes looked over every part of me, then moved to linger on my crotch. I could tell he was now feeling the effects of my Hanazin pheromones dispersing from my crotch. Any concern he should have in my powers reducing them all to dust would surely be the last on the list of priorities, at this point.

"Maybe I can help," he said, still staring downward. "I know your kind typically don't need a spotter, but I also know there's a difference between what you need and what you want."

I chuckled a bit at his words. Damn, he's horned as fuck! "I may have wants that change as the day carries on. If you can all keep up, I'm sure I can provide more than just the pleasure of my presence." I almost wanted to smack my forehead at my own words, or roll my eyes. But I couldn't help it. There was like this person inside me wanting always to be in a position to say such ridiculous things, and I was finally letting this person take control.

"That shouldn't be any problem at all," Kelly said. He looked up and smiled.

I could hear his heart rate quicken, smell his manly scent being released as his body temperature rose, and I could see the not so sudden movement in his pants.

"Then we should get started," I said.

I felt the more I begin accepting my place in this world, the more I felt a wild, uncontrollable urge building inside me, as if the only thing keeping it contained and, ironically in control, was my own ill confidence.

"Let's try the Hammer Strength chest press," Kelly said, leading the way over to the machine. He began effortlessly picking up the 45 lb. plates with one hand and, like a carnival ring toss, began to load the weights onto the machine posts with perfect precision. Again, I had to admit, though Hybrids weren't Hanazin, they could still do some pretty amazing things.

Kelly gestured for me to sit, and I obliged, positioning myself between the two arms of the machine. He shook his head.

"What?" I asked. But I psychically had already picked up what he was thinking, "You have 100 lb. plates."

He nodded. "Boys!" He said, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Let's get our guest of honor all that he desires."

Two of the guys volunteered and set off to retrieve the plates. But the machine was still loaded to the brim with 45 lb. plates, and I thought I'd maybe just do a little warm up and pushed the arms forward.

Immediately, the fabric of my Henley grew tighter, and I could see the muscle of my forearms bulge and the veins pumping to the surface. I genuinely felt nothing. Not even the weight of the movement in any direction, forward or backward. I literally felt like I was pushing styrofoam, as cliche as that's become for a Hanazin. I could see myself in the mirror, easily pushing the fully loaded bars of the machine, slowly but meticulously pumping out a single rep per second. It was enough still to fill my already engorged pecs with more of the blood and power they needed to grow. The machine whined under the weight with every rep I completed, and the metallic plates clanked together over and over as I continued on in the set, the sound increasing in volume as I felt that wild urge inside me wanting to have its time in the spotlight. Now my Henley was fully taut against the skin of my chest, veins pulsating and birthing their way to the surface, moving upward and connecting in V's and F's to the thicker cords of my neck and shoulders. The sound my shirt stretching and tearing began as my hard muscle pressed against the limits of the fabric, growing little by little.

"Fuck yeah," I heard one of the boys say.

"Jesus Christ," said another.

One of them was screaming in his mind, "FUUUUUUUCK!", his hand slowly rubbing the long, thick bulge his dick had made in his shorts. He was already shirtless, and I could smell the odor of him getting stronger as the scent moved closer to me. It was sour and spicy at the same time, and when he lifted his arms or moved about, the thick, dirty blond tufts of hair at his pits would release more of him to entice me.

My shirt had reached its tensile limitations, and I watched the last hurrah of the white fabric, desperately holding on, but ultimately failing, renting at my collar and swiftly shredding in two. As if on cue, I felt that wild urge break from its enclosure like my pecs had broken from my shirt just a millisecond prior, and with its escape, any hesitation and self-doubt disappeared, replaced by a fierce, primal confidence that hungered for every bit of satiation it could find.

Suddenly, I understood the full meaning of my own words--the mention of Hanazin power being like an addictive drug, or an intoxifying concoction of the greatest pleasure and the greatest desire, perpetually battling each other for relevance.

My gym shorts followed my shirt, my enormous man meat thrusting out before me, and bouncing from its own heft, dropping dollops of my precum onto the floor. Immediately, the entire room began to shed their drenched and sweaty clothing and my conscience mind continued to be dominated by that primal urge.

The boys had returned with the heavier plates, and I instinctually used my psychic energy to change them out with the lighter ones. It happened literally in the blink of an eye, and they all stood around me gawking at how the boys now carried the lighter set, and the heavier was already loaded on the machine. But even with the heavier set of 100 lb. plates, the weight of it still felt like nothing, and that primal urge that kept on building, that kept on taking over my conscience mind, was very displeased at this.

"TOO FUCKING EASY!" I roared.

But my pecs seemed to be telling a different story, the already lean, ripped muscle, shuddering and growing, veins engorging and pulsating, thickening with each rep.

Now completely naked, apart from the shoes on my feet, I threw the lift bars up for one more rep, and rose from the machine in one swift motion, letting the machine's arms fall back without me.

The boys closest to me all fell back onto their asses in ecstasy, moaning as their cocks let their hybrid loads explode over each other. Hybrid climaxes were like human ones, but with a larger quantity of cum, and a massive increase in dopamine production and release--meaning, simply, incredible, undeniable pleasure.

My chest heaved, I knew not from fatigue, but from the welling excitement of things to come. The entire room was rattling with every beat of my heart, my throbbing dick following in the same cadence, bouncing before me, and leaking my precum. I could hear the thoughts of every guy running through my mind, their desires. Each and every one of them wanted me, wanted to feel me, grab onto any part I would permit, caressing every striation, every fiber, and ever pumped up, throbbing vein my body would showcase.

I bent over into an intense most muscular pose, watching every vascular network fight for prominence, as if trying to free themselves from the enclosure of my skin.

"FUUUUCK!"

The sound had escaped from me again in a roar that rattled the already shaking gym, shattering the mirrors, windows, and lightbulbs in unison. Shards rained down over me and the hybrids gathered around. My chest ballooned outward, and a new birthing set of veins climbed over my pecs, crossed over my shoulders and joined the throbbing vessels at my biceps, causing them all to bulge larger and grow thicker in an instant. And that's what did it. Just the sight of my muscles growing and being covered and powered by these thick vascular networks sent that urge inside of me into overdrive. My already heaving sack engorged and readied the ammunition that quickly moved into my my massive, cum-slicked shaft. I grabbed my head with both hands, leaning backwards and moaning. And finally, I detonated.

The power rushed out of me and bowled over the Hybrids, sending them head over heels as if they'd just been dealt a swift uppercut to their jaws. I had to believe that if they were just ordinary humans, without the Hanazin aided upgrades, my power just might've turned them all into ash, just after watching their brains explode from the massive rush of power now flowing out of me and into them. But I continued to bellow in complete ecstasy, my cock blasting like a powerful geyser, my warm manly fluids raining down upon the hybrids like a torrential downpour, drenching them in my scent. The power radiated from me in a white aura, keeping my own fluids from touching my skin, but still my tip was allotted to blast free of the aura, the ceiling of the gym now covered with my man juice, clusters of it failing to stick and falling in loud plops over the boys in the gym. I must've gone on for a whole minute, just one continuous, powerful explosion of my manly cream.

When I had finally finished, my cock sputtered and spit the last bits of my climatic ecstasy. The veins covering the skin of my shaft bulged and spread out like the all too familiar sight of climbing ivy. The hybrids licked and lapped up every bit of my warm jizz they could manage--from the walls, the floor, even pairing off and ravenously stuffing their faces into the asscracks of their fellow hybrids, ensuring not one bit would go to waste.

Amazingly, the gym started to repair itself, as if by magic. I realized then, I was no longer in control of myself. I was simply an observer, watching the competent wild version of myself doing everything without a second thought, using its power inherently. The windows repaired themselves, the mirrors were restored to perfection, and as the lightbulbs were mended and shed their light again, I saw the Da Vinci-level masterpiece of lean, hard muscle that I had become.

My 15-incher rose again out of my ginger bush, bobbing in front of me, still hard as steel, and starting again to leak precum down my shaft like the water flow of a faucet someone had failed to shut off completely. My entire body was shuddering, vibrating, as the transformational muscle growth continued. My abs collapsed into my spine, and the fat beneath my skin melted away. The deep chasms of my abs became even deeper, and as the muscles of each section of my eight-pack became more defined, a line of throbbing veins climbed upward across the new, leaner muscle

I went into a double-biceps pose, the heads of the muscle perfectly pronounced, as the thickened, engorged veins channeled my power to the growing, striated fibers.

"Worship me," I said. It didn't sound like me--same voice, I mean...just wasn't something I'd ever think to say. The words just came out of me. But I couldn't help it. Looking at my reflection, my quads like the trunks of powerful oaks, my calves widening further, a single, thick cord swiftly rising upward upon the front of my right calf muscle, attaching to another network of throbbing vessels. "WORSHIP ME!" I roared, the mirrors filling with cracks, the room rattling.

The boys didn't protest, and immediately I felt their hands grabbing at any part of my growing, pulsating body they could. They were exploding their hybrid loads over my body, my aura dissipating to a minimum, allowing them to come in close proximity to my incredible, god-like body.

I spotted Kelly in the mirror, kneeling down behind me, then ramming his face into the deep crack of my ripped, bubble ass. His tongue worked my hole as if he wanted to be the only one to ever have the privilege of tasting me, and I couldn't help but reach back behind me, grab his head in one massive hand, and shove his face deeper.

My shoulders ballooned outward, and three, separate striated sections of hard muscle formed the finishing touches, as my traps completed their ascent up my now wider neck.

The hybrids continued to worship me, swarming over my still growing body. Even as my cock would blast them away in climatic ecstasy, the force of my stream carrying them up the wall towards the ceiling, they would fall to the ground, get back up and begin their worship again, ravenously pushing their way through the other muscled worshipers.

I used my psychic energy to lock the doors of every entrance, every exit. This would all be on my terms, and I intended to be worshiped for the length of time I desired. No one would be permitted to leave. No one would be permitted to cease worshiping me. No one.

[Ro20316]

This is so good.

The description and the story. I love it

[portamivia]

Love the absolute, worlds-destroying power! Hmmmm…

[oliver904]

TOBY

Toby was realizing how difficult being on the Combat Tournament Team could be—at least for a JV Behlmore team member.

The team captain, Brady Pearce (the son of Professor Pearce, mind you, though takes off of his other daddy) was oftentimes harder on Toby than even Jamie had been when Toby was introduced to the Varsity team. Toby found himself doubled-over, breathing hard, and forced to take a break, that Brady said would be shorter than he might think.

Toby never thought he’d get the feeling of a difficult workout again since becoming a Hanazin, but now he knew he had been incredibly mistaken.

His teammates were scattered all across the beach, miles in any direction, in the sky, over the water. He spotted number 1 on the team, John Kessing, crashing through an eight-foot wave, surfing down from the crest with only his feet, before sending a swift knee to his opponent's face. John was on the smaller size for a Behlmore--as were most of the JV Behlmore team, apart from Brady. But they did have one thing in common with their captain, most especially John, as once John would hit his Intermediate Power Level, his ripped, college wrestler's body would pack on 100 lbs of pure muscle. Toby was hoping to catch a glimpse of the power level shift first hand, but John had yet to upgrade his form. Not to say that he looked like a pushover. He ran a hand through his blond hair to quickly rid the excess water dripping into his face, and Toby stared at the boy's almost perfectly smooth skin, throbbing veins feeding the growing fibers of his perfectly shaped pecs that must've protruded from his sternum a good 3 inches.

His opponent, the one he'd kneed in the face, was Casey Peterson, a 4th year who filled the attributes of his house quite thoroughly. The brown hair that sparsely covered Casey's chest always made Toby's libido scream, and Toby had seen the guy in his Advanced Power Level twice before, and it was about a million times too uncommon a sight, in Toby's opinion. Casey looked like a fucking roided Greek God when he'd move into his Advanced form--like Ares had a baby with Apollo and juiced him from the day he was born.

John's brother, Zach Kessing, was also a member of the JV team. He had recently cut his hair short (or more so manipulated it to be shorter, as Hanazin hair doesn't easily cut, something Toby learned the hard way when he tried to shave his face that first time after his transformation).

Brady stood only a few feet away, scribbling across his clipboard and paper at such blinding speed, that Toby thought it might catch fire from the friction. Toby couldn’t help but stare at the team captain. Brady had one of the most incredible bodies Toby had seen since arriving to the Academy, even better than Jamie’s and the others on the Varsity squad. He was lean and ripped, his muscles defined like he had been created by the most masterful of sculptors. Veins covered his tanned, smooth-skinned body, throbbing and climbing, flowing and combining—even just out of his brown hair, running down his temple towards his cheeks—likely due to the captain’s increased utilization of his mind in watching his team spar and coming up with various strategies.

Kyle seemed to be having a really good day in comparison to Toby, having been paired off with Eric Jones, a third year. Eric was blond and ripped, his transparent body fuzz glowing in the sunlight, accentuating his golden tan. His bulging veins were most prominent on his shuddering, expanding forearms, pulsating and attaching to the already existing vascular networks. And Eric stared down at his arms, watching the muscle growing and tightening, his skin looking as if it were growing thinner, showcasing the engorged veins that shuttled his power all over his now more massive body. His 14 inch cock responded immediately to his apparent excitement, rising steel hard, throbbing and dripping. “FUUUUUCK!” he roared, blasting his hot fluids in a rainstorm over Kyle. In an instant, Eric's growing body went from champion surfer, to roided junior bodybuilder.

Kyle reveled in the cum storm, throwing his arms to the side, tilting back, face to the sky, and shaking his head to rid the excess moisture from his hair like he was taking a shower. But Eric didn’t give him much time to enjoy it all. Having moved into his Intermediate power level, Eric flew towards Kyle with light speed, landing several punches to the gut, and a series of powerful hooks and uppercuts. Kyle careened towards the far end of the beach with almost the same speed as Eric had moved, and landed in an explosion of sand about a whole two miles away.

Eric was renowned throughout the Academy as the Tyserren in Behlmore clothing--simply meaning he was both incredibly fast, and incredibly strong. What made him a Behlmore is that he didn't have the inherent stamina that Tyserrens do, and Eric simply stacked on muscle mass far too quickly and immensely to ever be considered anything but a Behlmore.

Toby hadn't realized it until that moment, but his breathing had turned heavier, his usual calm and steady Hanazin heartbeat had quickened, and he felt his blood and energy stores flowing towards the launchpad of his fuck rocket--you know, that spot where all that collective sexual energy builds and draws its resources like a horned up magnet.

"Careful," Brady said. "He might hear you."

Toby looked over at Brady, who was tapping his head with his pen. Toby snapped out of whatever daze he'd been drowning, and shook his head. "I don't know what you mean." He could feel his cheeks burning.

Brady offered a wry smile, and nodded towards Toby's crotch. "You sure about that?"

Even Toby couldn't deny what his steel hard cock was feeling. His slick rod was now almost painfully stiff, and Toby could feel it still engorging, and still devouring the resources of blood and power his body could gather up.

Like blinking, Brady moved to sit beside Toby on the sand and threw one of his massive, jacked arms over Toby's shoulders.

Brady sighed. "I don't blame you. Eric is incredibly sexy--one of Behlmore's sexiest, next to me, of course."

Toby smirked. "Aren't you afraid he'll hear you?"

"Nah," Brady said. "He knows what I think about him. Maybe time he knows what you think about him."

And with that, Brady used the arm around Toby's shoulders and pulled him close into a headlock. Toby's cock was sputtering precum intermittently between the leaky stream running down his shaft. He could feel Brady's hard muscle pulsating and growing against his back, and could smell their captain's manly, and musky scent. Strangely, Hanazins didn't really sweat all too much, but their scent of unique pheromones wafted profusely in almost every breath of the air they would breathe. And Brady's was fucking potent! A concoction of spicy amber and sour milk--which Toby thought would be incredibly disgusting in other circumstances, but as Brady's pulsating and growing bicep and forearm squeezed and tightened around Toby's neck, he could still smell Brady's almost hypnotic scent, and at that point, Toby just couldn't help but give into his throbbing dick's demands.

Somehow, Brady had managed to slip his own slick, throbbing fuck rod into the deepest parts of Toby's ass. Toby moaned, feeling Brady's hard body against his own, growing, changing, the muscle vibrating. And as Brady's throbbing dick expanded against the walls of Toby's ass, and his power flooded into Toby's body, Toby's painfully engorged fuck stick finally detonated.

Sand blasted away from both Toby and Brady as Toby roared in ecstasy, Brady behind him, arm still locked on Toby's throat.

"Fuck yeah, Newbie," Brady said, through gritted teeth, his ass pounding growing fiercer, quicker--to the speed of an out of control jack-hammer. "You got some real fucking power stored away in you, huh."

But it wasn't what was coming out of himself that Toby was feeling, but what was coming inside. Brady's dick engorged, as if taking a deep breath, and Toby felt the captain's steel hard fuck rocket blast off inside of him. The beach quaked with an immense 7.0, Brady's bellowing flowing seamlessly into a long, loud "FUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Toby felt his captain's power rush into him like a tsunami, it's absolute intensity made more evident by Brady's yellow, radiating aura pushing the ocean water back an entire 2 miles. And if that wasn't evidence enough, Toby could swear the captain had replaced his own dick with an actual fireman's hose, as it felt just as thick, and the force just as powerful. Brady must've been blasting in Toby for a whole minute or two, which only made Toby do much the same. Together, the two of them turned the sandy beach into a gooey mess of their own warm fluids.

Kyle seemed to have returned in time for the deluge of man juice, his entire, still growing body painted in white. He and Toby's eyes met, and Kyle raised his arms, then swung them swiftly towards his crotch, gesturing for Toby to "suck it".

Toby replied with a chuckle and a middle finger. Kyle psychically replied in turn, saying, "Maybe later. If you're lucky."

Brady slid his slimy piece out of Toby's ass, which was quickly followed by a deluge of Brady's excess fluids from Toby's battered hole. It flowed down from Toby's ass cheeks and down his now shuddering, expanding quads, flowing over the birthing veins still feeding his new muscle fiber.

Brady scoffed, just as Toby felt Brady's massive piece slip right back inside him, plugging the leak of cum down to only a trickle. But Brady wasn't behind him. He was standing a few feet in front of him, the veins exposed on his head and face throbbing and extending downward towards his neck.

"Whoa. That's taking more energy than I thought it would," Brady said, exhaling. "So hurry up boys!" he said, raising his voice.

Toby felt his ears ring a little for that millisecond's time it took for his super-hearing to adjust to the volume of Brady's voice.

"Don't be shy," Brady said. "You're hurting my feelings."

Toby was struggling to figure out what Brady could have meant, having said all that, but luckily didn't have to think on it too much longer. Any thoughts Toby would've had on the subject was interrupted by the sudden and the greatest ecstasy he had yet to feel since that first orgasm post transformation. He felt Brady's psionic dick disappear, allowing the captain's still warm fluids to pour out once more. And they would've, if only the face of Zach Kessing, number two on the JV team, wasn't stuffing his face as far inside as Toby's ripped ass cheeks would permit him.

Toby couldn't help but let out a long, drawn out moan as the absolute blissfulness of Zach attempts to swallow their captain's excess fluid continued on. Zach's tongue thrusted inside Toby's hole, flickered about and around it at lightning speed--whichever method would best allow Zach the most efficient cleanup...or maybe, Toby thought, it wasn't just about the Captain's jizz.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Eric Jones was kneeling in front of Toby. Toby went full mast at the sight of Eric's ripped, massive Intermediate form. Without any hesitation, Eric stuffed Toby's thick, throbbing dick down his throat, and masterfully went to work on Toby's slick shaft. Toby's cock engorged even more inside Eric's mouth, and probably would've torn Eric's jaws apart, had he not been a Hanazin himself.

Toby felt like he couldn't catch his breath, the ecstasy flooding over him. His body screamed to express it's pleasure to his teammates, but he could barely manage a sound currently. His sack was heavy with its preparations, and it wasn't long before it heaved downward. Toby felt a trickle of his warm jizz leave his tip, followed by a slow stream of his pre-cum. Zach fiercely continued eating Toby's ass, his mouth moving like he was starving. And as if that wasn't enough, Toby edging closer and closer--like razor's edge close, Eric had thrusted his own fat, lubed-up man meat into Toby's ass.

Toby couldn't fathom how it was possible, or how they had moved so fast, but Eric and Zach had somehow switched in an instant, and with one more powerful thrust from Eric, Toby felt as if the boy behind him had almost sent his whole body further down Zach's throat. But Zach handled Toby's massive piece like a pro, his lips around the slick shaft, his Hanazin ability to inhale and exhale circularly creating a continuous suction like a powerful vacuum.

Toby's dick exploded with full force deep into Zach's throat, which bulged outward from the sheer volume and intensity of Toby's fuck cannon. Sand and water blasted and sprayed away from their jacked bodies, encircling Toby's yellow aura. The earth shook once more, and Toby let the power and ecstasy overtake him, levitating upward with the other two, head tilted back towards the sky, Eric still behind him ramming his hole as if he were angry, growling, biting as if he had suddenly turned into some sort of animal. And it wasn't long until Eric, too, let his massive shaft detonate into Toby.

The force of Eric's climatic explosion into Toby's ass completely took Toby by surprise, and Toby gasped almost breathlessly as Eric's warm fluids flooded into him, the volume so immense that it sprayed out of his hole with incredible force onto Eric's massive, shuddering quads. Toby could feel the fluid pooling at the boy's crotch until it would slowly flow down his own leg in globs.

Eric grabbed Toby with an aggressive grip, ensuring Toby would feel every bit of the upperclassman's body transforming against his own, growing, and becoming harder and leaner, all the while still blasting into Toby's ass at full power.

"FUUUUUUUCK!" Eric screamed. He yanked Toby's head backward and ran his tongue over the skin of Toby's neck. And, almost without a millisecond's break in time, Eric pulled out of Toby, the boy's massive piece still blasting white fuck sauce, backbending into position so his face could be buried between Toby's shuddering, ripped glutes.

Toby moaned euphorically as Eric's tongue swirled, flicked, and stabbed back into his hole. Zach still had Toby's steel hard shaft engulfed inside him as far as the young Hanazin's throat would allow.

But suddenly, without any warning, Toby was sent flying towards the sea, his still growing body blasting away with such speed that he skipped and bounced across the surface of the water before breaking through and careening into its depths.

Brady must've decided it was time to get back to the combat essentials, and Toby was certain that the team captain had felt he had had enough time to introduce himself to Eric and get the power-up needed to face his teammates on a more even playing field.

Toby scanned the area. He estimated that he had to be at least a mile underwater, judging by the edge of the continental slope meeting the continental shelf he could see just a few hundred feet above him. The sunlight could not shine through at that depth, but still Toby could see every detail of everything for miles in any direction. The telescopic abilities of his vision allowed him to focus on things from great distances, though without light to reflect, most objects, even as clear in detail as they were to Toby's superhuman eyes, were only black and white. It was like the sea life all around him had suddenly gone to grayscale. The amazing things his Hanazin body could do, and the amazing abilities it possessed never seemed to stop.

As always, the realization of how godlike his powers were made Toby hard as fuck, and his colossal, sputtering manhood had gone full mast, and palpably quivered before him.

He fiercely gripped the base of his fat, engorged shaft and that familiar wave of ecstasy flooded into every part of his body, his growing muscles responding with a swift and almost violent shaking, stacking pounds of lean meat onto his now 8-foot frame in an instant. Even with the tons of water pressure fighting against him, Toby's power ejected from his body with enough force to blast every drop of the deep sea away from him in a second's time, his muffled roar now fully audible to the surface.

Toby felt his skin adjusting to his now larger, godlike physique, stretching across his expanding, ripped muscles, veins birthing upward and crawling like out of control vines. He had moved into his Advanced Power Level, and felt renewed and energized like never before. His body was instantly dry after the extraordinary expulsion of energy radiating from him, and so, too, was the bare sea floor surrounding him, the ocean's water held back by the undulating waves of Toby's power.

Like teleporting, Toby returned to the beach shoreline, the force of the sonic boom he hadn't suppressed creating a tsunami that took every member of the JV Behlmores miles into the air.

Toby wasn't going to let their captain off so easy, and while Brady had been distracted by the flooding waters, threw a right hook at the upper classman's face with speed faster than a strike of lightning. Brady was sent careening away like a stop motion take, as it seemed like the second Toby's fist had made contact with his face, Brady was already hitting the surface of the tsunami waters below them.

But Toby didn't get much opportunity to celebrate, as the next millisecond, Brady was behind Toby, clutching him in another of his headlocks.

"Not bad, Newbie," Brady said through gritted teeth. His lips were right against Toby's left ear, and Toby could feel the captains breath against his skin. And soon Brady's hardening fuck rod was climbing up the center of Toby's back, warm and throbbing, patting against his skin. "But now let me show you why I'm the Captain of this team."

[oliver904]

Just wanted to add updated character cards. I'll also be posting a character card for Toby's Advanced and Eric's Intermediate on my profile page. I'll have to make a link for it lol Anyways, Toby and Eric's higher form character cards were created using Reface pics. I'm trying to find a way to change images to reflect the growing powers and size, etc... Unfortunately, Reface isn't always perfect, but sometimes you find a good match. Other times you're tired of searching images and say "Fuck it!"