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  1. Well, I already posted this elsewhere, but I thought you guys might get a kick out of it. The Revenge of Jafar : Chapter 1 - "You Can Do Whatever You Wish" I’m not looking for sympathy, I know that 2020 hadn’t exactly been a year most of the world wants to remember, but it’d been a particularly hard one for me. As the Coronovirus spread across the planet and much of the workforce in Britain went into lockdown, my boyfriend, Marcus joined the thousands who were unable to work. I on the other-hand continued to venture into the office to keep the finances of my employer balanced. Working in accountancy might not be a “sexy” business, but as the weeks wore on both Marcus and I were grateful for the regular income. Elsewhere, cracks were beginning to show between the two of us. His casual attitude to cleaning and taking care of our apartment seemed to decline as he filled his days with Xbox Live, microwaveable burgers and watching whatever mindless crap he could find on Netflix. To be fair to him, he’d always been the more chilled-out of the two of us, but our home was slowly transforming into a teenager’s bedroom whilst Marcus transformed at an equally alarming rate. The gyms had closed, the hair stylists had put away their scissors and Marcus was starting to become a victim of these losses. His normally flat, toned stomach had gained a layer of fat whilst his thick arms seemed to be losing definition on a daily basis. I couldn’t complain too harshly, my own physique had never been too impressive - but as a fitness model, the decline Marcus was allowing himself to slide into was somewhat alarming. I’m not saying I only fell for the guy because he had a tight six-pack, cute smile and an arse you could park a bike in… he was charming and sweet, he loved to cook and made me laugh so much. But, as I walked in to our shared home; the place littered with empty Coke cans, random socks and a faint smell of B.O, I was irritated. “Hey Handsome!” I chimed at Marcus as I stepped through the door. He sat on the sofa, controller in hand, headset on, shooting zombies or aliens or God knows what. “You had a good day?” No reply. I stepped between the screen and Marcus. “Hello?” “Oh for fucks sake, Jake! I was winning.” He yelled, throwing the controller down on the coffee table. “I was just saying ‘hello’! I won’t fucking bother now!” He glared up at me. Glancing around the room, I lifted a pair of his worn sweatshorts from the kitchen island, where they’d been left 3 days ago. “Been busy?” I asked. “Oh don’t start with me.” He shot back. “It’s okay for you, you get to go to work”. I stared at him, mouth open, waiting for my mind to find the words, but instead, instinct kicked in. “Oh, I GET to go to work? I GET to wake up at 6am to sit in an office to pay OUR bills? I GET to come home to see MY apartment slowly become a tribute to downtown Beirut?”. And so the argument began. I didn’t mean to be so hurtful, but after weeks of swallowing down little annoyances here and there, the words essentially poured from my mouth. Some time later, after the shouting had stopped, Marcus stomped out of the apartment, a selection of his clothes and carry-able items forcefully stuffed into a holdall. That was three months ago. And I was still struggling to get to grips that the man I’d been with for four years had walked out and not come back after one argument. Fortunately, the world had, in some ways, started to return to normal. Bars and restaurants were open. Shops had embraced the return of their loyal customers and travel restrictions had been lifted. And so, after months of hard graft in the office, I decided I’d take the opportunity to get some sun, unwind and try to get past the events of this horrible year so far. ———————————————————— As I took a sip of my Mojito lounging by the pool of the Shangri-la Hotel, I questioned myself as to why I’d chosen to come to Dubai. As an openly gay man, it wasn’t exactly the no.1 destination to come and cruise for a replacement for Marcus. Still, this late in the year it was the perfect location to get a tan, drink some cocktails and get a little early Christmas shopping done. As I readjusted my sunglasses and sank down into the heavily cushioned sun-lounger, my vision went dark. Lifting my sunglasses, I was greeted by a tall, handsome, dark-skinned man. His black shirt looked painted onto his chunky pectorals and rounded deltoids. Equally black was his impressive thick beard that dipped to the bottom of his neck and framed his square cheek muscles. “You look like a man in need of adventure” he purred. My brain took a second to process his proposition. It came back blank. “I’m sorry?” “Jeep Desert Safari! One on one. A totally Personal experience. Only 500 Dirham.” His deeply accented voice continued, as he pushed a pamphlet into my hand. “I’m sure you’d love it. Out in the sand, bumping and crashing through the dunes.” If he hadn’t been trying to charge me over a hundred quid to sit in a Jeep on some sand, I’d have been certain he was flirting with me. “I… “ I struggled again for words. “I really just want to unwind. Relax by the pool, maybe have a couple of drink..” “Live a little! You’ll love it when the ride gets rough!” He interrupted, his earthy brown eyes penetrating my resistance. And so, less than an hour later Majid and I were blasting down the dunes in his, thankfully air-conditioned Jeep Wrangler. Any pretence of flirtation out of the window as Majid continued to tell me the best places to flirt with the British girls that came to visit and the best places to get a drink where the alcohol wasn’t watered down beyond all recognition. Whilst a small part of me mourned the lack of potential to have a night of wild sex with this handsome Arabian hunk, a rational part of me realised the low potential for this, even if he had been gay, due to my totally average appearance. More immediately, the adrenaline fuelled part of me was genuinely enjoying the G-forces and thrills of driving over the sands. Soon, Majid slowed the Jeep to a standstill atop one of the dunes. Other than the sound of the cooled air rushing from the vents, there was silence. He looked towards me. “We’re well off the typical trails most take here” he practically whispered. “Totally deserted.” I offered, looking out of the windscreen. “Totally deserted desert!” He laughed. I chuckled too, more out of politeness - it wasn’t funny. “Can I get out?” I asked. “You can do whatever you wish.” Majid replied. “Just don’t stay out there too long, you’ll bake your skin.” He laughed again. I reached behind his seat and grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder as I stepped out of the Jeep. The heat was instant and oppressive. I was thankful I’d chosen to wear closed shoes as the sand beneath my feet felt genuinely unbearable to walk on. I reached into my bag to retrieve my phone, opening the camera app, I activated the Panoramic mode and began trying to capture the expansive nature of the sand that surrounded me - only the Jeep giving any frame of reference. As I continued to spin to complete the photograph, something bright reflected against my eyes, briefly dazzling me. I lowered my phone and looked towards the source of the glare. In the huge expanse of sand in every direction, there appeared to be something sticking out of the ground about 30ft away. Trudging towards the mystery item in this brutal heat was torture. Each step a monumental effort. But eventually, I arrived at the source of my curiosity. There, buried in the sand, appeared to be the spout of a teapot. I crouched down and placed my hands around the spout, an eerie coolness tingling on the tips of my fingers. As I pulled the spout upwards, it revealed a pitch black oil lamp. Covered with intricate swirls, and what appeared to be inscriptions, it was almost ice cold to the touch. I raised the lamp to eye level. I couldn’t believe the coolness of the metal against my palms. I pressed it against my forehead and the chilling effect was instant. Pulling it away I looked deeply at the lamp… It was impossible to determine the age, material or even physical origin of it, but it held my curiosity. “MY FRIEND!” Majid yelled. “My friend are you okay?” I whipped around to face him, hiding my literal buried treasure behind my back. “Fine, all good.. just wanted to explore… Laurence of Arabia, you know?” “We should be going. Soon it will get dark!” He offered. “Okay, be right there.” I howled back, stuffing the lamp into my backpack and moving back to the Jeep with a renewed vigour. ———————————————————— I thrust the keycard into the slot of my room’s door, the drive back to the hotel had seemed to pass by almost instantly as my mind became increasingly fixated on the lamp that sat inside my Jack Wills bag. Entering the room, I walked towards the bed and sat down, my fingers unzipping the bag in one fluid motion. Almost like magic, the lamp tumbled out of the opening and onto the crisp white cotton sheets where it sat perfectly on its rounded base. My hands gently cupped around it and raised it to the light, trying to make out the barely visible inscriptions that covered its entire surface. They were so fine, and lightly made that seeing them was near enough impossible. I reached for my phone and opened the Google Translate app. Using camera mode I tried to snap a section of the lamp that seemed to show the symbols “خطر” and “قوة” but the camera seemed unable to pick up the details. I sighed, placed my phone onto the bed and wet my thumb in my mouth. Slowly and carefully I began to rub the insignia on the lamp to try to make it clearer when, abruptly, red smoke began pouring out of the spout. Deep, villainous laughter began to fill the room as the smoke began to coalesce into a solidifying shape. As the smoke became tighter and tighter, the laughter became louder and louder. Before me, a huge, godlike figure began to appear. Laughing heartily, his hugely muscular figure flexed and grew. His skin as red as a bloodstained ruby. Lightning crackled across his impressive frame as he rose higher and higher into the room. His still laughing face seemed fixed in a near instantaneous sneer. His arms large enough to choke an elephant, his deep cobblestone abdominals flexing as his evil chuckling continued. My heart pounded in my chest, fear flushing through my body as he fixed his gaze towards me, his eyes shining yellow without pupils or iris, his thick goatee wrapped around his mouth as he exclaimed in a language I didn’t understand “’iinaa har! huriyat alaintiqam min ealam habsani!” At that point, the world became incredibly wobbly and as I slid off the bed, I began to feel as though I was… about…. to.. faint. Bang. ———————————————————— Jafar glanced at the pitiful human who had collapsed at the mere sight of him. He looked around the room; it looked unfamiliar to the world he knew before being trapped in the lamp. Once again he looked towards the human, and then towards the strange glowing rectangle on the bed next to his cursed lamp. He lifted the item, turning it over in his colossal, clawed hands. “iPhone” he mumbled to himself, and then turned it over and began to investigate it.
  2. DieselMass

    The Tank Procedure

    THE TANK PROCEDURE You stand in the Beta chamber, across from Alpha, ass naked save for your dog tags. Attached via a tube extending from the top of the chamber to your face is a mask providing you with oxygen. Sweat rolls down your lean body as if you were standing in the rain. It must be a thousand fucking degrees in here, you think while you wait. You knew it would be hot – the machine gives off a lot of heat while warming up the gamma rays. At least that's what the nerds told you – those top secret army boys in lab coats outside the chambers, turning dials and looking at screens with strange numbers and diagrams on them. You sigh in boredom. You've been waiting for what feels like an hour now, starting to wish you never signed up for this top secret experiment. Why is it even top secret? you wonder. You fail to grasp why a procedure involving a “minor” increase in strength and endurance should be kept behind closed doors. “The Tank Procedure,” they called it – because a “tank is what you'll become!” You still remember your commander selling it to you like an infomercial. But whatever – you figure a little bit more muscle wouldn't hurt. And you're always ready to serve. You turn your attention to the soldier in the Alpha chamber across from you. He stands at six feet, completely upright and at attention. Like you he sports a buzz cut, and bears the same dog tags and oxygen mask. You can make out the faint outline of a six pack. Maybe I'll have one of those after this! You sneak a peak at his package – equally impressive. Suddenly, an alarm sounds, and a robotic voice announces “PARAMETERS READY. INITIATING TRANSFORMATION ON CHAMBER ALPHA.” Your heart skips a beat – somewhat relieved you aren't first. You watch as the chamber fills up with viscous fluid that, when full, lifts the soldier into the center effortlessly. He looks surprised. So that's what these masks are for, you realize. The speaker returns. “ALPHA CHAMBER LOADED. INITIATING METABOLIC TRANSFORMATION.” You hear a loud buzz and suddenly the clear fluid in Alpha's chamber glows a luminescent green. The soldier almost instantly starts convulsing in agony. Veins appear all over his body, glowing increasingly green. Your heart drops. You watch in horror as his muscles spasm all too quickly - growing with each spasm. He throws his arms back and you see a now entirely visible chiseled six pack, covered in green veins running to his cock. That's when you saw it – his blood rushing to his package. It forces his rod into a fully erect state. His balls too seem to grow – now larger now normal for any male body. You run your gaze back up his body, passing by two suddenly engorged pectorals. They heave up an down as the metamorphosis continues, supported now by heft shoulders and unnaturally large traps. You notice the soldier's expression – something of a mix between pain and... pleasure? Holy shit, you think, is he actually enjoying this? That's when you realize in terror – the serum flooding his cock – they were MAKING him enjoy it. His convulsions become quicker, and suddenly you hear his now booming voice from behind the thick glass of his chamber, muffled by the serum he is suspended in. “Fuck... FUCK. Too much! Turn it off! Mmmmm, fuck yeah – NO! FUCK NO! Ugh, ughhhhhh...” You turn read, heart pounding, unable to take your eyes away from the scene. His arms grow to inhuman lengths – his now bowling ball biceps being pumped larger, beyond all limits. His forearms take on a sharp and overworked look. The transformation grows his shoulders to unworldly proportions – the size of his fucking head! You realize against his now rock hard shoulders and roid-level traps that the soldier probably can't turn his head anymore. And it shows – his convulsions seem to slow, his new body strong enough to withstand them. As the radiation slows you stare in awe of the creature the military had created. What was once a man now stands a beast, only akin to his former self in some facial features, although even that was chiseled by the procedure. His seemingly small head rests on his now seven foot tall body, supported by a disproportionately wide wall of muscle you might call his chest. Even facing forward you can make out a ripped back, wings arrogantly displaying themselves, forcing the shoulders cannon sized arms apart. His core looks tight. Fuck! You realize the radiation has granted this monster not 6, or 8, but 10 MASSIVE bricks for abs. They run down in a percent V into his now foot long cock and engorged balls. It throbs up and down in testosterone-fueled agony. Below it extend tree-trunk sized quads, cannonball gluts, and mutated calves, now reaching the floor of the chamber. You wonder how any man's body could be made to look like such a bulging X. “METABOLIC TRANSORMATION COMPLETE. INITIATING TRAINING.” the announcer booms. Training? What the fuck is that? You hear the now animal grunts of the solder in Alpha chamber. He throws his arms and legs about, no longer in agony, but from the sound of it... horniness. You watch as his cock pumps out stream after stream of pre-cum. The beast looks like he's in incredible heat. You watch as each of his abs fight for dominance while he convulses, his watermelon pecs contracting and bulging in unison. His neck strains in desperate attempts to jerk himself off. Is there anything left of him? What did they do to him? Suddenly a red gird of light runs through the chamber. As it passes through the monster's body he stops, standing at attention – perfectly upright. You realize now he is not 7 – but 8 whole feet high! While standing at the ready his gaze falls on your eyes, causing you to take a step back. You realize he is not looking at you, but forward, as if awaiting a command. The lights rotate around the soldier, illuminating his godlike frame. You hear the faint sound of the announcer local to the soldier's chamber, and his baritone responses. “OBEY.” “I obey. I good boy.” “You will be made complete.” “I will be complete.” As the commands continue, each of the animal's responses become more and more human, yet... robotic – like a SOLDIER! “You are a TANK.” “I am .. TANK.” “You will serve the military perfectly.” “I will server the military perfectly!” “You will do justice for you country.” “I will obey and serve!” “What is your name?” “SOLDIER ALPHA-78!” “What are you?” “TANK!” “What is your purpose?” “To obey and serve, SIR!” “COMMENCING ARMOR SYNTHESIS. STAND AT THE READY.” “SIR. YES. SIR!” You watch as the soldier close his eyes and lose himself in ecstasy – as if the program had somehow triggered an orgasm. Gallon after gallon of his mutated cum exits his bowling balls through his steel grade rod, mixing with the serum of the chamber. After a full minute of unending pleasure, the serum starts to coagulate against the soldiers body, now familiar with his genetic code. As he stands perfectly still, the serum hardens layer by layer against his skin. After a while it takes on a metallic, chrome finish. Despite adding a few inches of mass, the metal coat conforms perfectly to the soldiers curvature. Not a crevice is filled in the valley of his abs. Every bulging vein on his arms, legs, and monster cock where left pronounced. Even his nips, jutting far forward off the slabs of meat that where his pecs, could still be made out. At the end there was no serum left in the chamber. Before you stands not a man, nor animal, but impressive military-grade machine of raw power and steel skin. Shaking in terror you watch the soldier open his metallic eyes. They glow a bright red – the same red as the grid that had “trained” him before. His speaks. His voice shakes the room. “TANK SOLDIER ALPHA-78 - READY FOR DUTY - SIR!” Your heart pounds. What is this? This isn't what you signed up for... or was it? What did the contract say? Did you even read it? Your mind races, but is silenced by the announcer. “ALPHA TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE. INITIATING TRANSFORMATION BETA.” Your're next.
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