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Found 12 results

  1. Trio

    m/m Becoming 0605

    Hello to you who may read this story, first of all I would like to thank Hialmar and DieselMass for the wonderful pieces and for inspiring me to write this homage to their style. Second, I was torn between making the story a full dialogue or fully description based, this is the final result, let me know if it is confusing, but well, hope you enjoy it ——————————————————— He wakes up on this cylinder, naked and there is this dog tag posing on his pec, with the number 0605. Panic rises fast.. -Hey? What is this? Why am I trapped here? What is this on my neck? Why am I naked? Let me out! LET ME OUT! PLEASE! SOMEONE!- The place appears to be desert, he keeps on screaming for help even so. Soon the cylinder starts to be filled with a thick liquid, the contact with his skin hurts him. -UGH! AAH! THIS BURNS! LET ME OUT LET ME OUT! He keeps on screaming and the liquid slowly fills the chamber. This one is dense, at a certain point it becomes hard to move, the substance slowly burns his skin and he keeps on screaming until the chemistry on the substance makes him quieter. The room is quiet now, he is floating on the center of the cylinder. It’s like he’s back into sleeping, but he’s wide awake. It all happens on his mind, where his ears start to capture sounds. -INTERNAL DIALOGUE- ”You have been selected for the program”. What do you mean, selected? I want to get out. ”Negatory, you will be made useful by the process.” Process? ”You will obey” I don’t want to obey. ”You soon will obey” I doubt that. Ah this hurts! “The process is being felt by 0605, it begins” This hurts so much! Agh! What is happening to me? My whole body, I feel stronger! My muscles, I feel them. ”You will be made present” What do you mean? Ahh! My pecs! They burn! My skin! If I could just move! Ugh! Ah! ”You will be remade” My abs! What is happening? What is this?! It hurts! Ahh! ——————————————————— He feels pain as his body transforms, and the voice keep on going. He feels pain, as his pecs expand, his abs come to life, his traps are remade, his quads become stronger. He is transforming. Ah! This hurts so good! Aahh!!! Aaaaahh!! Aa augh ”You enjoy the procedure” This is starting to feel good! Agh! My pecs, they are getting bigger! If only... Ah! My abs! I wanna feel them! ”You become the soldier” I become the soldier? ”Reprogramming your mind” Agh! This is getting better! I must... I must fight this! I need to return to... my life! Ugh! Such... pleasure! My penis is getting... is it expanding too? Ugh! It feels... stronger now! I am... a soldier! With a body like this... I should... Gah... indeed be a soldier... it’s getting... It’s getting better! Must... fight... Look at my arms! My arms! So big! So strong! Ugh! Ugah! Oh... I am... a soldier! Oh Fuck! Look at my... cock! It’s huge! I want to... fuck! My abs! My fucking cock! I need to... transform. My body! Ugah! Uhh! Uhh! UHH! I WANT MORE! I WANT TO GET BIGGER! I’m becoming... a fucking God! Tremble... humans! YES! I WANT MORE! I WANT... 0605 WANTS FUCK!!! LET ME FUCK! ”iniciating metamorphosis” WHAT THE... AAGH!!! FUCK! MY SKIN! BURNS! AGHHHH!! BOILS!!! Reform. My bones, AGAH! Expanding! Must, be, more. Must, be, monster! 0605 wants fuck! ——————————————————— He is transformed, his body is expanded, his muscles are glorious, his horns are powerful, his metallic skin increases his potency. Only one desire on his mind now: to masturbate, and masturbate others. The liquid soon is absorbed by his body and the cylinder opens, he is able to move. He jerks off furiously and groans on a thick dense voice. UGHH UGHHH FUCK MORE! 0605 A GOD! UGH UGAH! He masturbates strongly and when he comes he roars vigorously, after that, he licks every drop of cum he can, like a starving beast. He is reformed, and ready for action. He is Soldier 0605
  2. Ultrabeef

    m/m The Pride Pack

    The Pride Pack By Ultrabeef I decided to try my spin on a theme that has been used in other stories before. Enjoy. “Jeez bro! Your parents are RICH!” Ryan whistled as he took in the impressive log cabin in front of him. “Shut up dude! It belonged to my grandpa” Landon grinned and blushed, liking the attention from his friends. “It’s gonna be a weekend to remember guys!” Landon yelled. “Dude, stop staring at the cabin and help me carry this shit!” Jayse grumbled as he struggled to carry two big duffel bags. “Here, give me one of those, Slim” Manuel grabbed a bag from Jayse’s hand and the four college friends headed up the steps of the imposing front porch of the gorgeous timber-framed cabin. After getting their stuff stowed away in the bedrooms of the cabin, they started to do what four college friends tend to do - drink. Landon, a cute baseball jock with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes was telling stories of how he was plowing his girlfriend last weekend when her dad walked in on them. “Holy crap dude! What did you do?” Manuel, the sensitive Mexican soccer jock asked in shock. “I told her dad to shut the door and finished up” Landon laughed. Jayse and Ryan high-fived Landon as they laughed. Jayse was starting to get a little tipsy from the free-flowing booze. He was a tall, skinny, basketball player with brown hair and a goatee. His angular features and high cheekbones gave him an exotic look. “Jesus bro! Why don’t you eat something. You’re nothing but skin and bones and that booze it hitting you hard” Ryan slurred as Jayse accidentally knocked a lamp over on his way to the kitchen. “My girlfriend likes me thin” Jayse muttered. Ryan was a short, cute, blond lacrosse player who was a real ladies man on campus. He had probably gone out with and had sex with almost every female in his classes. “And bring some more beer on your way back!” Ryan called to Jayse. Jayse came back from the kitchen with a strange looking package of beer and handed it to Ryan. “What the fuck is this?” Ryan exclaimed as he picked up the four pack of brightly colored bottles in a rainbow colored carton. The carton had the words “The Pride Pack” printed along the side along with a picture of two muscular (and obviously gay) guys with their arms wrapped around each other. Manuel laughed “I saw it at the liquor store on an end display — it’s some fag themed beer for Pride month”. “Oh shit! That’s hilarious bro!” Jayse laughed grabbing a bottle. “Hey, give me one dude, I don’t want to be left out!” Landon grinned as Jayse tossed him a bottle. “Why are they all different?” Ryan asked taking a bottle and tossing the last one to Manuel. “It’s like a sampler pack or something” Manuel shrugged. “Well, it’s all we’ve got left and I’m not driving all the way back to town right now” Jayse slurred. “No, shit dude. You’re barely in good enough condition to walk” Ryan joked. Landon took a sip of his bottle first. It was filled with bright pink liquid and the bottle was labeled “Total Twink”. “It’s fruity. It tastes like hibiscus or something. It’s really good though.” Landon chugged the beer and slammed down the empty bottle. “Sthit! That was fabulous!” Landon exclaimed with a faggy lisp. The other guys howled with laughter at his “fake” gay accent. “Nice one bro!“ Manuel laughed as he chugged his root beer colored bottle of “Dapper Daddy”. It had woodsy flavor like bourbon and was smooth going down. Manuel felt so calm and at peace as he finished his bottle. “Damn gents, that was delicious” he sighed in newly a rich deep baritone. “What’s with your voices dudes?” Jayse asked laughing. “What are you thalking about?” Landon asked with a look of confusion on his face. “Yeah, what do you mean, son?” Manuel replied, his voice richer and lower than before. Jayse just shrugged and took a tentative sip of “Juicy Jock” — the frothy teal colored beverage tasted a bit like Gatorade. Jayse eagerly drank down the bottle. “Damn bros! This is some rockin kick-ass shit!” Jayse grinned, his face looking a little blanker than a moment ago. “You guys are too fucking much!” Ryan laughed as his friends ridiculous reactions to their drinks. Ryan brought the final bottle to his lips. It was a deep red fruit punch color and was labeled Beefy Bull and tasted fruity but also musky and woodsy. Ryan was captivated by the strange flavor. As he brought the bottle down he felt a jolt of energy surge through his body. “Shit dudes! This is some wild juice!” Ryan’s attention was quickly brought to the scene in front of him. Landon was rolling on the floor grabbing his stomach and moaning “Fuck! This hurts!” Manuel and Jayse were staring at Landon when the same feeling hit them too. “Oh sthit! It feels thso...thso...fucking...good!” Landon moaned as his hand reached down into his shorts and he started stroking his obviously hard cock. “Fuck dude! What are you doing?!” Jayse screamed at the sight of his friend feeling himself as he doubled over in pain. “Oh damn! I feel so full!” Manuel groaned as he undid the button on his jeans, his formerly trim waist starting to swell. Ryan now felt the pain hit him and immediately he grabbed his stomach like his friends. “What the fuck was in that shit!” Ryan spoke through clenched teeth. The four guys had never felt such a confusing mixture of both pain and pleasure. Landon was starting to look different. His brown curly hair had lightened a few shades and was starting to look blond. And it looked like the tips of his hair were frosted pink. “Sthit boys! I think those drinks are doing something to us” Landon whimpered as his big pink lips plumped up and his now angular cheekbones became more pronounced. “Oh! You think so genius?” Manuel grunted as his voice deepened into a husky growl. Manuel’s chest was swelling out as a pair of beefy pecs strained his v neck t-shirt. Thick dark hairs were sprouting across his chest out of the neck of his shirt and across his arms. And most pronounced of all, Manuel was developing a thick, hairy gut that hung over the open waistband of his jeans. “What’s happening to your stomach Manuel?! We’ve got to stop this shit!” Jayse replied as his formerly thin frame slowly swelled with striated, vascular muscle. Jayse’s shoulders and back grew wider and wider stretching his t-shirt tightly and making his waist seem even smaller as a tight eight pack began to appear. Ryan moaned as his body too began to swell with muscle “Oh fuck bros! What’s happening to us?” Ryan’s arms were thickening as his shirt struggled to contain them, big swollen, sweaty pecs were starting to pull his shirt to the breaking point. Landon’s transformation had started to slow and it was obvious that the previously intelligent baseball jock was gone. Landon was completely naked and his smooth hairless body and massive cock were utter perfection. He had big smooth ass that just begged to be fucked. “I think that drinkth turned me into a total twink, boys!” Landon, on all fours, gyrated his big butt in the air as he arched his back and stroked his big dick, moaning loudly in his new higher pitched voice. “Fuck me! I’m thso fucking hot!” Landon put his finger into his mouth and rubbed it on his pert nipple as he licked his lips. “Oh shit, boy! Look at that cute fuckable ass!” Manuel growled in his newly deep voice. The naked, hairy, hispanic daddy smacked Landon’s ass with his big hand causing Landon to squeal with delight. Manuel had bulked up with some muscle but there was a definite layer of fat and dark fur coating it. Manuel’s boyish looks had matured somewhat and he had salt and pepper hair on his temples as well as a beard coating his jaw. His fat, hairy gut jiggled as he walked and his fat, latino cock leaked precum as he took in the sight of the now twinkish Landon. “You like this big, beautiful booty, don’t you...daddy?” Landon purred seductively, biting his plump lower lip. “Oh hell yes...boy” Manuel growled fully assuming his new daddy role as he stroked his big hairy dick, “Daddy is going show you what a real man is like...son” The aggressive older hunk bore little resemblance to the sensitive Manuel from mere minutes ago. The two friends, now lovers, started aggressively making out. “Oh shit bros! What the fuck are you doing?! You’re straight!!” Jayse yelled as he watched his two formerly straight friends start to make out. Then Jayse looked down at his totally ripped muscular body. “Oh fuck! Look at me, I’m totally jacked!” Jayse ran his hands over his sensitive nipples that perkily jutted from his ripped pecs and ran his hands down over his striated 8 pack abs. Veins snaked across his muscular body. Gone was the skinny basketball player, a total muscle hunk had been born. Finally his big hands found his huge, half-hard, leaking cock. It was ridiculously long and thick, easily porn star proportions. And the muscular hunk groaned at he ran his finger across the sensitive tip of his veiny cock and brought his finger to his mouth, tasting his own seed. As Jayse looked into the mirror on the wall he was in awe of his beauty. His pouty lips and etched cheekbones along with his goatee made it clear he was pure masculinity. “So...fucking hot!” Jayse purred “so hot...such a hunk...and so...horny”. Just then Jayse heard a deep moan coming from the corner of the room. He turned his head and gasped, Holy fuck!” Ryan staggered to his feet and adjusted his legs to accommodate their new-found girth. “Wha...what the fuck happened to me bros?” Ryan rumbled. Ryan was still the same height as before the transformation but he was at least three times as wide. A total muscle bull, the former cute lacrosse player now looked like a professional bodybuilder. Naked, massive, thick, bulky muscle hung from his frame. Boulder shoulders flowed from his thick neck and led to freakishly huge and veiny arms. His pecs were so swollen with new growth that his nipples were forced toward the floor and hung like a shelf from his body, red stretch marks snaked from his arm pits across his chest. His thick, wide back and flaring lats led to a thick waist. Ryan had a six pack but it was part of a heavy muscle gut that distended from his body. His legs were pillars of brawn — thick, beefy quads and perfect diamond shaped calves. As Ryan turned Jayse saw his huge, hard, beefy bubble butt and felt his own cock swell. “Oh fuck! I feel so heavy and thick” Ryan flexed his huge bicep and watched the thick muscles and veins bulge. “Shit dude! I’m fucking huge!” Ryan smirked a cocky grin at his freakishly huge body, his cute boyish features now more mature and manly. Jayse ogled the pure masculinity and size of his friend. “You’re not huge everywhere bro!” Jayse grinned looking at Ryan’s crotch. Ryan struggled to look down over his thick pecs but had to settle for the mirror on the wall. He flexed his freakish guns and then saw his crotch and blushed. Ryan’s dick had shrunk in the transformation and was puny and embarrassing in the midst of all this massive muscle. Just then Ryan saw Jayse come up behind him and felt Jayse’s thick rod on his ass cheeks. “Shit Ryan! You’re hot as fuck! So fucking massive, such a muscle bull” Jayse purred as he kissed Ryan’s thick neck. “You’re so jacked with muscle and hot as shit too bro!” Ryan moaned as he turned around and wrapped his muscular arms around Jayse. The two muscular hunks started passionately making out, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths as Jayse reached around and cupped Ryan’s huge bubble butt in his hands. “Oh shit bro! I just just gotta fuck that big muscle ass of yours” Jayse purred as he flicked Ryan’s massive pec with his tongue. “I want to feel that huge cock of yours inside me bro!” Ryan moaned showing Jayse his big butt while his own tiny dick leaked precum. “Happy Pride boys!” Landon squealed as Manuel penetrated him to the grunts of Jayse and Ryan roughly having sex on the sofa. This would definitely be a weekend to remember.
  3. LJackson

    m/m MaxandharryandmaX: A serial (?)

    Okay, here's the start of something new. Let me know if you want me to carry on! What you need to understand is that Harry and I had been friends all our lives, or nearly. When we were in playgroup, I chewed on his toy car. When we went to school together, we taught one another to read. If a teacher asked me what my name was, I’d say: “Max and Harry.” For years, right up till we went to university, people would call us Maxandharry or Harryandmax. Even at Uni, him studying Biological Sciences and me doing Business Studies, we texted nearly every day. For a while, after celebrating our Friendversary, we even changed our Faceboook names to MaxandharryandharryandmaX, till he pointed out it looked a bit gay. I felt a bit sad changing it, but my girlfriend of the time told me he was right. In the years since then, of course, we drifted apart a bit. We were both in London but we would only meet for a drink every couple of months. I guess he slowly started noticing a change in me about summer 2019 when I had made a special effort to get #BeachBodyReady. ‘Shit, mate, you really do have a gym membership, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When are Men’s Health ringing you for a cover feature?’ I was in a short sleeved shirt and I was feeling pretty good about myself back then, but still I knew he was talking shit. ‘Bro, have you seen the guys on Love Island? All I’ve done so far is lose a bit weight really.’ ‘Impressive though,’ he said, sinking the last of his pint. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’ ‘Well, I reckon Niamh would think so,’ he said. I cuffed his shoulder. ‘She’s not superficial like other ho’s,’ I said. ‘Girls like that sort of thing, though,’ he said. He looked down at himself. ‘They can’t help themselves.’ ‘They like to see we’re taking care of ourselves,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, you’re far from overweight, dude.’ ‘Underweight, if anything,’ he said. ‘I do my heavy lifting with this.’ He tapped his brow, and we both laughed. ‘Mind you don’t go impairing it with two many hipster beers, then,’ I said, getting up to fetch another round. ‘If you promise not to go crazy with this gym stuff,’ he said. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ But I knew he was wrong. By the time we met to toast Christmas, he couldn’t resist squeezing my arm. ‘Holy shit!’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought you just had a big jumper on under that coat. You’re huge!’ ‘Not as big as I’d like,’ I couldn’t help saying, blushing. ‘Still a way to go.’ ‘What do you weight though…?’ ‘About 70kg,’ I said, automatically. ‘Roughly 150lbs.’ ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘I didn’t expect you to actually know. You must be taking this seriously.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s fun too.’ ‘Bet you’re not drinking tonight.’ ‘Maybe just the one. My body fat’s down to 7%.’ I sipped my orange juice. ‘It feels great, though. I’m so alive, so capable. And, bro, let me tell you, the girls are hanging round me like flies around shit.’ God, it felt good.. Harry didn’t seem to feel so, though. ‘Mate, I didn’t need to have another reason to feel inferior,’ he sighed. His mouth was proper down-turned. ‘Niamh,’ I said, testingly. He nodded glumly. ‘I wasn't enough for her, it seems.’ ‘You were too good for her, anyway,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure how true it was. There he sat, a weedy little guy with glasses, maybe half my size. He couldn’t have lifted a weight above his head, let alone bench-pressed what I was doing. He looked pretty pathetic. ‘Maybe you should join my gym. Just to cheer yourself up.’ ‘Can’t think of anything worse,’ he said. ‘Come off it, mate,’ I said. ‘Build a bit of muscle and you’ll feel amazing. Imagine if Niamh sees you on the beach next summer with your shirt off, biceps bulging, pecs rippling…’ I tailed off, thinking how ridiculous this sounded. Even if I could persuade him to take some exercise, I thought, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to take his shirt off on camera. He was still as lean and hairless as when we both set off for University. I wondered, was I naturally superior to him? Niamh would certainly have picked me over him for a mate: law of the jungle. I’ve have shown her a better time, as well. I didn’t like to think how embarrassing Harry must have been in bed. I shook my head to clear it. Harry had been talking to me and all the time I’d been thinking about banging his girlfriend, cucking him in his own bed. Crazy thinking. I interrupted him: ‘I don’t want to hear any shit, mate, you’re coming with me to the gym tomorrow and that’s that.’ He sat back in surprise, held up his hands. ‘Fine. Fine!’ There was a long pause. Finally he laughed and got up to go to the bar. ‘Better get a round in while I’m still allowed, then!’ ‘Skip the crisps this time, okay,’ I laughed back. ‘2020’s going to be your year.’ And to be fair to him, he turned up. He obeyed me, as if I was in control of him. He did the exercises I told him to do. He changed his diet. It became quite fun, turning up to see him at the gym – maybe not as often as I would be there, but at least a couple of times a week. He didn’t enjoy it but he worked hard. At the end of January, he had actually lost a bit of weight – but sadly, he hadn’t put on a single shred of muscle. We stood looking at one another in the mirror. ‘I can’t fucking believe it,’ he said. ‘I’m actually smaller than before.’ ‘I’ve just grown bigger,’ I said, ‘that’s all, mate.’ ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Yes, you’re bigger but look at me. I’m a shrimp. Nobody would guess we were the same age.’ ‘You’re a week younger,’ I told him, shrugging off my sweaty vest. ‘Maybe you’ll always be…’ Again, I didn’t want to say the truth. ‘What?’ he demanded. ‘What were you going to say? Weaker? Smaller? Inferior?’ ‘But only to me,’ I told him. ‘You might put on some muscle by summer. You won’t be strong but you’ll be fit.’ ‘That’s really what you think of me,’ he said, eyes wide. Furious. He looked like he wanted to pick a fight with me, but something rational was stopping him. He’d be mullered in a second. Instead, he ran away. Just grabbed his bag and stormed out. I should have run after him, but I was meeting this girl for dinner. He had told me on Tinder that she wanted me to fuck her like an animal, and I was still wondering how best to do that. I was too distracted. That was half my trouble. MaxandharryandharryandmaX was in trouble for the first time in history. An unshakeable bond, broken by the gym. Or maybe more, I thought. Maybe by masculinity and testosterone. Maybe by alpha male power. It could never be equal again now that I had begun to dominate. February slipped past, and I thought about him every day. I dreamt about him. I dreamt he was watching while I effortlessly fucked Niamh. I was pumped and bigger than ever while I worked at her tight snatch, and he got smaller while he watched me. In March, I finally sent him a message. ‘Miss lifting weights with you. Miss lifting pints even more.’ He replied almost straight away. ‘Maybe we should resume one of those activities. Guess which one.’ ‘Gym’s open longer hours,’ I replied, with a emoji to show I wasn’t serious. ‘Mate,’ he texted back, ‘I wouldn’t go there right now.’ ‘Why?’ I asked, expecting a joke. And so, Harry was the first person to tell me about coronavirus. I thought it was just him making an excuse about not exercising. I don’t follow the news, don’t really do social media; in fact, I was pretty buried in work and working out. I suppose, I also didn’t want it to be true. I was in full denial. And so, inevitably, I caught it. I’m strong. I’m healthy. I don’t even take roids, so no strain on my heart. So I guess I was well prepared for it. Even so, it knocked me out for longer than I expected. Those were some crazy weeks. Maybe the weeks that followed were even stranger. Apart from work, Harry was the main person I was in contact with during lockdown. At first we talked a bit about fitness: my gym had closed. I tried to buy gym equipment online, but there was none available. ‘I must have got the last set,’ Harry told me. He told me it was the one good thing in his life now. It was hard for him - he was still so weak - so I sent him tips over email, links to videos and online advice. He asked me questions about diets and supplements and steroids. I told him to do it all clean, which disappointed him, being the biology scientist – he wanted to make himself into his own experiment. But it was a good thing. It was like we were the same person after all, just slightly out of phase. Except I couldn’t work out, not properly. I did some bodyweight stuff and started running. The muscle just melted away. I ended up looking as lean as a stick of celery. ‘You’re going to end up as my trainer,’ he said, when we talked about it. I didn’t like that. What if he caught me up? So we didn’t talk about it. And the lockdown rolled by. The lockdown was raised. Life began to return to normal. It was September when we arranged to meet again. A few drinks in the same old pub we used to frequent – but first, we would work out together, side by side. It struck me, as I walked towards the bench press: we were equals at last. MaxandharryandharryandmaX had been brought closer together by the quarantine. We had both realised something: his innate power, my humility. At last, we would be best friends once again. The only problem was, he didn’t appear to have showed up. The gym was pretty much empty, and the only person hanging around our agreed meeting spot was a big guy. Proper monster. Shaved head. Lats out to here, waist in here, a real triangle. He looked nearly a foot taller than me and I was worried for a second. In an empty gym, it’s pretty bad etiquette to stand waiting for a piece of equipment. I didn’t want him to think I was trying anything on; he could have ripped me apart. He turned around and the light glinted off his glasses. He smiled. ‘Hey, Max, you made it!’ ‘Harry?!’ I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a wind-up. He opened his arms inviting me for a hug. Each arm was as big as both of mine put together. The muscle was thick and pumped as if he had just completed a workout, not spent months in quarantine. ‘Harry,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘This is insane. You’re a fucking beast.’ ‘I used the lockdown well,’ he said seriously. His voice had grown deeper. It was like talking to a different man with my friend’s face, one who towered over me. ‘All this came from working out?’ ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I see you went the other way.’ I looked down at myself, blushing. ‘Yes, I’m pretty small these days.’ ‘How big were you before the lockdown?’ he asked me. ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should –’ ‘Cut the crap,’ he said. ‘I asked you a question.’ ‘About 75kg,’ I told him. ‘165lbs.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You used to seem so big,’ he said. He ran his hands over the huge globes of his chest and the hard, thick ripples of his abdominals, lightly brushing his fingers across the giant vascular boulders of his biceps and the vast shoulder-muscles that framed his firm chin. ‘I’m about 270lbs. 125kg.’ ‘It’s not possible,’ I said. ‘Feel it,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll know how possible it is.’ I laughed and held up my hands. ‘That’s fine, I’ll believe you.’ ‘What is the problem with you?’ he said. He didn’t raise his voice but the authority was clear. ‘I told you to feel it, you little bitch.’ ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. He shook his head for a second. ‘Sorry, bro. It’s the testosterone. Sometimes I lose control. I mean, it’s true that you’re little. And you’re being a bitch.’ He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’ ‘Will it help you if I – if I feel your muscle?’ I said, putting my hands on his physique. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I’m like a loaded gun nowadays.’ ‘More like a cannon,’ I said, feeling his might. ‘The Incredible Hulk has nothing on you. So you went for the steroids after all?’ ‘No way, you little cunt,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Max. But no – not steroids, exactly. I did some research. With some friends online. Other biology academics into weightlifting. I was looking for short cuts, and they were looking for ways to build size and strength. I think between us we tapped into something that did both. Workouts combined with certain hormones and particular herbs. It’s all perfectly safe, just a few side-effects.’ ‘Like the anger management issues,’ I suggested. ‘And all this fur.’ I ran a hand through the pelt on his monstrous chest. ‘You really are becoming a beast.’ ‘Fuck!’ he gasped. ‘You touched it! I should have warned you – but I thought it would sound gay.’ ‘Touched what?’ I snatched my hand away but he caught it in a giant fist. ‘You touched my nipple. Fucking sensitive nowadays.’ ‘So what – what does that mean?’ ‘It means,’ he said, ‘either I need to fuck a woman in the next ten minutes or…’ ‘Or what?’ Harry looked toward the changing room door. ‘Or, old friend, you’ll have to milk the cum from my big swinging balls…’ TO BE CONTINUED…
  4. Tattcub

    The Visitor

    So, Hi all, it's been quite a while since I posted anything. RL and all that. I posted this a while ago on the Gay Spiral Stories site. I hope you like it. THE VISITOR Remember, you came to me? I asked you when you first came to my door, pale and sweaty with anticipation and need. I said to you “Are you certain?” and you nodded, tears in yours eyes. You had a hand full of money and your head full of desires and urges that you, in your state then had no way to fill. You were small then, a tiny insignificant speck in a world that didn’t whether you lived or died. It didn’t care because it didn’t even acknowledge your tiny existence. You were a speck. Unloved, unnoticed and unimportant. All your life you had wanted to be something more, something bigger. You had wanted to make your mark on the world and trumpet your cause, your existence. A purpose. You tried many things over the decades that brought you here. You joined social groups and went online to feed your desires. You met up in hotels and conferences and played all the games. You listened to all the tapes and read all the fantasies and stories you could. You ate it all up and it sufficed, for a while. Then the hunger caught you again, that gnawing, rapacious sensation. That void aching to be filled by…something. You didn’t know or care but you still sought it. It started to encroach on your every waking moment. It was merciless in it’s tenacity and you kept feeding it’s gaping maw. Every day, every night you found little moments of pleasure. A clip here, a story there. Every day you continued to dig, to forage in your grubby little world of self-discovery and self-loathing in equal measure. You couldn’t help yourself. This obsession had taken you and you obeyed it’s whims and whiles willing. One night, in the quiet dark times before the sun’s rays caressed your computer screen, where you were still poised like a techno hunter waiting for some fresh game to come along. You happened upon a link that brought to a site that brought you to another site, that provided a link that gave you a phone number that you eventually found an address. It brought you to me. Do you remember what you said to me? How you begged? I told then it would have a cost. You said you would pay it, whatever it was. You said there was nothing in your life you weren’t prepared to give up willing for what I could give you. With that stated I stared at you, sat there in the big chair by my fireside. I smiled at you and I’m sure the light from the fire’s glow was reflected in my eyes. You flinched a little at this. I smiled some more. You told me of your life, quiet, horny and lonely. You told me what you had spent on your needs and wants and how much you were willing to spend. I could see you sat there in the firelight, a small bulge in your trousers expressing in a way without words how much your desires affected you. I asked you to give me details and made some cursory notes on a pad on the table. Not that I needed to of course. I already knew what you wanted. What you craved in the darkest moments of your most fevered dreams. You wanted all the pain to go away. All the hurt and suffering in your life, all the want, all the need. All the guilt. You wanted to see the world through innocent eyes again, not to be so inside your head as you put it. You wanted a life more physical and less cerebral. A life where all your cares and woes would be washed away, gone. Just like that. A world where you hadn’t been bullied at school and been a bully in return when you went to college. A world where you hadn’t been in a loveless, sterile marriage that had ended up just hurting the both of you because you hadn’t the nerve to admit what was really the problem. A world where you didn’t have any sordid little secrets and perversions that you thought would be held against you even though the world being what it was could really care less about you either way. You want a world where your dreams can come true, as I said. A world without pain, without suffering and without shame. A place for you to build a dream of lust and a place dedicated to your pleasure and your own needs. A selfish world to be sure. Not an impossible one. Many people do it but they do manage to pop out every now and again and remain a member of the human race. Not you. This is not what you want. I steeple my fingers in the firelight and lean forward from the shadows my eyes glowing once more in the firelight. “Are you ready ?” I asked you. You nodded meekly and swallowed hard. “Then, let’s talk desire.” I smiled again. I look at you now as see what and who you have become. Do you remember what you were when I had you sat before me when I said… “Are you ready?” You nodded like a supplicant waiting for a blessing. You licked your dry lips and stared up at me through your weaselly, boiled egg, watering eyes. You swallowed the fear back in your mouth. The bravest thing you did and the thing that made me decide that maybe you were worth a second glance. I stared deep into your soul and really saw the aching yearning desire you have. It was pure need and lust. You wanted to be freed of your mental and physical shackles but, ironically would be willing to taking on more bindings of a different sort. “I think then we may have an accord.” I said. My deep masculine voice reverberated around the room seeming to cause the flames in the fireplace to flicker slightly. You looked around nervously and then back at me as you wiped the sweat from your brow. I caught you hand quickly before you had a chance to bring it down again and trapped your fragile claw in my hard, calloused paw. It was as if you were a child, your hand was thin, frail and almost translucent it was so pale. Even though your pulse was erratic in fear I could feel your essence and knew that you were ripe for the change. I would be able to turn you easily. “Stand.” I commanded. You did so swiftly and nervously with me still holding your hand. “Are you willing to serve? If I gift you as you wish so fervently will you serve me in return and pay my price?” “Y—es, Yes sir. Anything. Anything you ask.” You breathed. “Take off your clothes.” I said in that same tone. You went pale and looked at me a moment as if trying to decided whether to flee the room back into the night where you had been only minutes before. You even glanced to the closed dark wooden door as if weighing up the odds before my strong arms clamped down on your shoulders preventing it. You stayed, not that I would ever have stopped you fleeing. You got this far on your own you must do the rest of it on your own too. You started to disrobe. First your light Jacket, as faded and worn as you were. Then your sweater and tie. Placed neatly on top of your Jacket. Then the inner vest that revealed the pale almost eel-like body underneath, barely any hair and perspiring in fear. You undid your belt and then slipped off your brown loafers placing them under the chair. With that down you shuck your trousers revealing again the pale, slim body underneath. This left you in your socks and your baggy underwear. You paused a moment and looked at me. I raised an eyebrow and nodded once at the underthings and you took off your socks and then your baggy briefs. You placed them very tidily on top of the pile and stood there shivering slightly in the warm room. You looked down at the floor and ashamed of yourself and covered your manhood with your small hands. I shook my head once hinting that you put your hands by your sides. You obeyed, revealing your manhood, your essence, your cock. It was surprising large. I know that you had used it well and often in your life, giving pleasure to your few real partners and eliciting surprise from the ones you paid for. This was the one thing in your life apart from your intelligence you could do something with. Your explorations into desire had taught you well. This pleased me. I could feel that dark energy running through you. The essence of the man you wanted, no desperately needed to be. It was a good 7 inches in length and was cut as is the way in this country for many men. It had a good weight to it and despite your fear it had a small drop of pre-cum just peeping from the little slit. A seed of the dream to come maybe. This would all be up to you. “Turn around. “ I said. Taking in your slumped shoulders and back. Your almost flat buttocks and stick-like legs finished off the picture. I placed my hands on your shoulders, you could feel the strength in them, the roughness of them and the heat radiating from the palms. You stopped shuddering. I placed my lips close to your left ear and you could feel my breath and felt my chest, shirtless as it was pressed against your back. I know you had a hard on in that moment. I could feel your heartbeat quicken and felt your lust and need grow quickly. This was good, this was fuel for the fire. On that thought I whispered in you ear. “Throw you clothes on the fire.” “See them burn and realise this is the end of the person you are now at this moment. By the time they are consumed so will you be.” You picked up your clothes and shoes and walked to the blazing hearth. Slowly piece by piece, one by one you dropped them into the opening. The firelight reflecting off your skin and your erection never receding. We stood there in silence for a moment looking into the flames as they consumed your former life. “Come back to me and turn to the fire.” I said. You complied and turned once more to stare into the flickering, golden firelight. I came up close behind you once more dropping my own garments and standing behind you totally naked. I towered above you. Thick, strong and massively muscular. “Stare deep into the flames.” I whispered. “And place your hands on your cock.” I commanded you again. “I want you to see yourself. See yourself within the fire. Imagine it holds the key to your dreams and needs. It can grant you all you desire and so much more, but you have to want it.” I called your name quietly as you gazed rapt and entranced by the dancing fingers of fire. Red, yellow, blue and light. All the colours flickered and reflected on your body. “See the change. Do you see it?” I asked. “Yes…I see it.” Came your quiet reply. So far away and distant but certain. “All you have to do is bring it out of the fire.” I said. “Let the heat come to you, draw it into yourself and become one with it.” I said. You continued to stare and I heard your breath catch for a moment. You were ready. I reached down and grabbed my own impressive cock. “Now I think we’re ready.” I said as I spat into my hand and rubbed it on my hardened member. It’s 10 thick, glistening ready and willing. “Lean forward.” I said. “Change is pain boy.” My voice dropped even more and became darker. “And this is gonna hurt.” I plunged my cock into your tight, unyielding hole. I know that it almost felt like it was tearing you in two but it didn’t. You felt both the pain and pleasure of it. This was what you wanted, what you needed and desired above all else. This was the price. You screamed into the hand I had placed around your mouth, the other on your shoulder as I slowly drew out again before slamming back in once more, up to the hilt leaving you with my entire cock inside you. I paused for a second and then repeated the same movement. I stared to get a rhythm slowing deep dicking you there in front of the fire. You screamed and whimpered into my hand and I know you were hard as steel. Your own cock now drooling it’s own precious juices. “Bring it into you.” I said as I rammed into you again. “Bring the change.” I said louder. “Embrace the change.” I shouted as I pummelled your arse. In and out, ramming your rapidily slackening hole. Ruining it for lesser men. “Take this fuck and become who you have always wanted to be. “ “Tell me what and who you are.” I demanded, never letting up. In and out, in and out. pistoning like a crazy engine. “I’m a big, stupid muscle whore!” You whispered. “WHAT ARE YOU!” I shouted in your ear as I felt you begin to change. I felt your back changed first, filling up and out as you were bent over letting me fuck you. It broadened, unfolding like a sail. “Nhhhhhgghhh….” You groaned as the back broaden into a monstrous almost u shape it was so wide. “I…..I’M arrgggghhh.” You moaned as your shoulders sprouted like mountains from your back. They were like titanic carved boulders, a mountain range that met in the middle at the Everest monument that were your Traps. They were magnificent. I gripped them hard almost biting down on them as you neck thickened too. It grew thick and wide enough that if you flexed which you were doing it would be thicker than your head. Your traps rising almost to your ears. “WHAT ARE YOU?” I rammed you mercilessly now, slamming your growing and tightening butt. I was get rounder and harder at the same time. I could feel you getting used to the invasion that I was committing to your hole. It felt amazing. I could feel myself getting near. “I A….BIG…Nrghh STUPID…WH…argh….FUCK ME! You scream as I ploughed you. Your desire feeding mine now as you began to push back against my thrusts as if born to do this. I could feel you grow taller, your legs rapidly thickening. Beautiful sweeps and shapes. Carved granite trunks that could snap a tree branch with ease and perfect rounded calves. All the muscle cut and carved to perfection your feet growing in size to accommodate the growth above. “WHAT ARE YOU?” I screamed now. Slamming into you with abandon as I knew the final phase of the physical transformation was coming. Your chest and abdomen had built themselves up. The pecs were beyond human shelves of muscle. They were so big that the perfect, rounded, thick, juicy nipples had to point down as the mass of them had nowhere else to go. The abs were inhuman to look at. Thick, hard, ridged muscle cut it’s way across you midriff. Beautiful obliques and then serratus muscle standing out in perfect contrast leading to a perfect Adonis belt at the top of a thick muscular waist that was able to support the sheer massive construct of flesh above it. “I’M A BIG, STUPID MUSCLE WHORE!” You bellowed in deep voice that brought me over the edge. I came inside you, I rammed you almost in a rage as I shot, load after load and spurt after spurt of cum into your warm, receptive hole. Sealing the physical transformation you had so desired. I pulled out of you, both of us panting like bulls and sweating like them too. I could hear your deep voice as you groaned. I grabbed a towel from the side and walked over to you. “We’re not finished.” I said. “I don’t understand.” You said as you stood up, sweat glistened off your still pale body. Your face and hair were unchanged and look at odds with the physique you had sculpted for yourself. You were looking at yourself in awe and pleasure. You kept touch and flexing, catching your reflection in the mirror over the mantle. “I still feel the desire.” I said, my voice darker. “I…I…This is fine.” You stammered in your masculine timbre. “Not so.” I said putting my hands either side of your face. Drawing you close and kissing your mouth. My bearded chin and lips roughly scratching at your skin.” “MMMffff” You said against the invasion of my tongue. You realised what was about to happen. This was the price you had to pay. Your skin began to darken, to become the hue of a man who works outside. Warm and weathered. Thick veins started to thread themselves across your body, especially on your shoulders, traps, biceps and most of all your forearms which were a monstrous construction. Almost beyond human in the girth and vascularity. Your legs were symphony of criss cross veins. Bulging out with every moment, each muscle group and striation screaming to be seen through the paper like skin. With the tan and the veins came the hair. You were a mousy brown-haired man no longer. Slowly each hair started to change colour and new patches grew on your body as I continued to kiss you. You began to kiss me back, to explore my mouth with your tongue. Probing and suddenly eager. Your beard started to grow out, thicken after a good few moments into a nice lumberjack style beard. The hair on your head started to fall out slowly as the rest of your body grew more thick, beautiful red hair. Your beard, chest and legs as well as your armpits and balls all had a covering of thick red hair. Your shiny bald dome was the only contrast. You were moaning into my mouth now, almost trying to fuck my mouth with your tongue. I could feel you jacking yourself off, you hadn’t cum yet and that was the part I was waiting for. I pushed back with my tongue for a second and your face changed. It crumpled almost. Re-arranging itself. The brow got much thicker making the eyes seem deeper set. They were transforming from the dull puddles they were into beautiful bright green gems that glinted seductively from their deep sockets.The nose appeared to be slightly crooked as if broken but it seems at home in the square jaw and firm chin that it was now set in the middle of. The lips were sensuous and still perfectly manly, especially as you were still trying to rape my mouth with your tongue. You were close now, groaning and masturbating furiously as I pulled away from your mouth. Streams of saliva dripping between us as we separated. “Huh—hhuuuh uh uh” You panted. You wanted release but needed me to let you go. I smiled and turned you towards a large mirror in the corner of the room. You saw the monument of a creature you had become. You were flailing mercilessly at your eager cock as it too began to grow. It thickened and lengthened in your hands to the point where you put both your meaty paws on it. You thrashed it back and forth like a lunatic pre-cum flying everywhere. Your balls dropped again and hung thick and pendulous below your cock and your voice deepened even more as you groaned in desperate need for release. “Huh….uuuhhh..” You groaned rocking back and forth back and forth. You stared at me in the mirror unable to speak and the only thoughts were of your need. I stood behind you. I smiled and then I whispered in your ear again. “Pay the price.” I said oh so quietly. “Tell me what you are.” "Gnnnngrahhhhhhhh” You bellowed with your entire soul. You didn't need to "say" anymore. You never would again. Your fire-hose cock started to jerk and bounce as your huge firm balls contracted and you began to spurt hot, thick,cum. Shot after shot at the mirror you were staring at. Totally enraptured by the red headed god in the mirror. You seemed to lose your voice as it became only grunts. All you felt was your need. You didn’t have room for anything else. All your knowledge, all those years of study and work. All the years of disappointment and yearning, All the years of wandering and longing. All those memories now gone. You shot out every part of the you that walked in the door. Each pump of cum was also a handful of I.Q. Not that you realised or even cared for that matter, so in love with the muscled bull in the mirror. You got what you wanted.
  5. PREVIOUS CHAPTER Pt5 An average jet can span the US continent in about five hours -- the official record is 64 minutes, held by an SR-71. The Batplane has probably done it in less, but there aren’t any stats to support it. There were several heroes capable of flying coast to coast under their own power -- any of the Green Lanterns, J’onn J’onzz, Wonder Woman -- but few who would win a race with the original Superman (who once flew fast enough around the Earth to reverse time, remember) much less one of the New Supermen, especially one with the right motivation. Like massively swollen balls. Like massively swollen balls that desperately needed release. Still, a phenomenon like that wasn’t likely to go unnoticed (the speed, not the balls -- not from space). There were several satellite tracking systems that picked up on a biological object speeding across the country -- one of them was LexCorp’s. Once the object was identified as one of the Earth paranormals -- one of the New Supermen -- most systems catalogued but ignored it. Not Luthor. Not with what he knew. There was only one reason the DC Superman was flying to San Francisco with that kind of speed. Luthor pressed a button on his desk. “Have Dr. Teng come to my office,” he said plainly. There had better be a good explanation. ********************************* “WE NEED MORE SUPERMEN!” Bizarro whined in his raspy, cow-like voice. He was fucking Tucker, now in the Super-Sling, his own balls swollen to the size of oranges, covered in the dust coming off Bizarro like sweat. Each thrust was like a clap of chalk-filled erasers, little puffs of dust adding to the mist in the air. Tucker was sucking his buddy McGrath’s cock as McGrath floated above him in a 69, greedily sucking Tucker’s meat in return. McGrath’s swollen, oversized, infected balls covered Tucker’s eyes, so all Tucker could do was breathe the scent of McGrath’s dusty sac, making him even hornier. Stupider. Above the two of them floated Zelinski, holding on to the top chains of the Super-Sling while he slow-fucked McGrath’s leaking hole, the ecstasy on his face made it clear this was a dream cum true. How long had he fantasized about getting into McGrath’s ass? Honestly, how long? He couldn’t remember. Thinking was no longer his strength -- not that it ever was, really. “MORE SUPERMEN,” Zelinski agreed, the only one able to talk -- the others tried, but instead giggled with their mouths full. In a push-up position on McGrath’s back as he continued to fuck the deputy, Zelinski leaned forward and kissed Bizarro full on the mouth, soaking himself in the clone’s infected spit and dust -- the same dust that gave Zelinski this incredible high. This mind-fucking incredible high. Was Bizarro getting dustier? Was that possible? Zelinski may have realized it, but he couldn’t understand it. For him, more dust meant more high -- more sex. More balls. He had no idea that the clone may be degrading. And there was a crash from downstairs -- the plate-glass window on the balcony smashing. All four of them looked up. “MORE SUPERMEN?” asked Bizarro. From downstairs, a deep, resonant, masculine voice. “TUCKER?” Tucker turned his head to look, continuing to lick the head of McGrath’s cock like a lolly. He laughed. “THAT SOUND LIKE…” A massive man appeared in the doorway, bigger than any of them, the biggest of all -- the sheen of the tattooed S-shield on his mighty chest glowing in the dimness, otherwise dressed only in tiny red gym shorts that were clearly struggling to contain his oversized package. Even through his anger, the obvious shock and surprise were evident on his face. “MAX!” Tucker squealed, clapping his hands together with McGrath’s cock in his mouth. “ME LOVE MAX!” Bizarro turned to face him just as Max back-handed the clone across the room -- the “pop” of Bizarro’s cock obvious as it came out of Tucker’s ass. Bizarro slammed into the wall (the one with the Roman Cross on it), creating a huge cloud of dust. He sank to the floor. “WHAT AM HAP…?” Max was on him just that quick, sliding into a hip throw and taking Bizarro to the floor. The two of them began wrestling, though it was clear Bizarro had no idea what was happening -- he was reactionary, not aggressive. Even in his limited experience, guys who started out angry and rough ended up horny and desperate -- something was wrong. Tucker in the sling and McGrath in a 69 above him, both watched the wrestling match while idly sucking the other’s cock. Zelinski kept inside McGrath’s ass, but definitely slowed his pace, confused by the action before him -- was this some sort of prelude to fucking? His entire front side covered in dust, Max had Bizarro in a full-nelson, locking the clone up from behind -- he pressed himself into Bizarro’s ass. “Ready to fuck, clone?” he growled, slamming his hips against Bizarro. “You ready for a REAL cock?” “NO!” shouted Bizarro. “ME NO…” But Max didn’t listen -- without further ado, he shoved his cock (the biggest of all the New Supermen, remember) into Bizarro’s ass. Bizarro screamed, a weird mix of pleasure and pain -- it was clear he didn’t want the invasion, but he wasn’t trying to get away, either. Max began thrusting, shoving the clone face-down into the floor to get a better angle. The three Super-witnesses could see Max’s own balls swollen to nearly the same size as Bizarro’s. The two sacs pendulously swung together with each of Max’s thrusts. At first, it just seemed like an aggressive fuck, like the hard poundings McGrath used to give before he became a big, dumb bottom. Long-dicking him, almost all the way out, slamming back in -- Max began speeding up, appearing almost like a piston, mechanical and purposeful, little puffs of dust rising from the clone’s ass like smoke from an engine. Bizarro couldn’t help but moan, a low, bovine sound. “You like that, clone?” Max growled. “You won’t for long…” Wrapping his powerful arms around Bizarro’s torso, Max easily lifted the clone into an upright position, pressing its face into the wall with the Roman Cross, fucking it even faster, the mass of Max’s glutes and hamstrings standing out with each thrust -- the clone began to shake like it was sitting on a washing machine in the spin cycle. “N-N-N-N-N-N-N-NOOOOO!” The faster it vibrated, the more dust that came off -- Max stood in an ankle-deep pile already, aside from the front side of his body being nearly coated in it. It was as if Bizarro was turning into white sand. “Gonna cum, clone,” Max barked. “Enjoy….” He thrust in deep and deposited his load -- and those oversized balls of his produced copious amounts, more and more and still more cum. The creature’s eyes rolled back in its head, and Bizarro began to cum as well, a dry, dusty stream of thick, mulchy ejaculate. He moaned in a voiceless ecstasy. They began to shake together, the New Superman and the clone, each of them continuing to cum, both their hips bucking with instinctive need, but something was happening to Bizarro. It was collapsing, dissolving, literally turning to dust. Like a sculpture made from the whitest sands of the most virgin island, eventually the lack of moisture caused collapse. The longer and harder Bizarro came, the less of the creature there was. Before their eyes, it became a pile of chalky sand at Max’s feet. Max turned to the rest of them, this three-hundred pound beast, his muscles pumped, his balls still swollen, the tip of his huge dick dripping, his translucent “S” still glowing oh his rounded, muscular pecs beneath the white powder that had been Bizarro. Max sneered. “Who’s next?” *************************************** Together, they watched the man in the video open a secure cabinet and remove a small container, where he read the label and then dropped it into his lab coat pocket. Turning away from the cabinet put him face first to the hidden camera -- his identity was clear. The video looped over and over, showing the theft and the identity reveal. Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair, putting his hands together and tenting his fingers. “So, Dr. Teng,” he said calmly and quietly, “would you care to explain this?” Teng shifted in his chair, beads of sweat on his forehead. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke. “It was communicable to humans,” he said. “Excuse me?” “The Bizarro Virus,” Teng said, gaining confidence as he went. “It was targeted to have a specific effect on the New Supermen -- who, as you know, are humans given the powers of a Kryptonian, not Kryptonian themselves. Although the activation of the virus required the presence of the New Supermen’s altered DNA -- meaning Bizarro could infect only them -- once they’re infected, though, the New Supermen become communicable to normal humans…” A moment of dramatic silence, begging for Luthor’s “...So…?” “So, in an effort to avoid a major pandemic, I chose to take action.” Teng sat tall and still in his chair, though his heart pounded in his chest. Again, the forced drama was almost annoying. “And you…?” “I infected one of the New Supermen with the antidote.” The silence between them was now tense for a new reason: the truth was out -- clear and plain -- there was nothing to do but acknowledge it. And pay the price. “I see,” Luthor said, finally. “That puts you in a rather… tenuous position.” “I was aware there would be consequences.” Luthor grunted. “In my defense,” Teng offered, “there is little doubt that had there been a large-scale infection the cause would’ve been traced back to you and LexCorp.” Luthor’s eyebrows raised. “Me?” he asked. “I’ve done nothing but discover a rogue scientist in my employ -- AND a thief.” His eyes indicated the looping video. “For all anyone knows watching that video, you could be stealing the virus yourself, intent on unleashing it on an unsuspecting populace. What a monster!” Teng was unreadable. “You wouldn’t do that,” he said. “It would indicate you’re developing viruses here at LexCorp. That’s a secret you don’t want getting out.” Luthor leaned forward, forearms on his desk. “Well then, perhaps we’ll have to find a more… internal way of dealing with you.” Without missing a beat, Luthor pressed a button and some little device on the top of his computer monitor turned and released a powdery dispense directly at Teng’s face. It made its way in his mouth and up his nose before he even reacted to its happening. “What the…?” Luthor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “There you are, Teng,” he said. “Your virus.” “What?” said the doctor at the beginnings of panic -- he could already feel his dick come to life in his pants. “No!” Luthor pressed another button and two security guards entered -- they were wearing face masks. “Take Dr. Teng to one of the sub-basement holding cells,” he quietly commanded. “Make sure he gets plenty of… stimulation.” As the two security guards escorted him out of the room, Teng tried to maintain his dignity, but it was hard to ignore the way his balls were flopping around in his pants, getting bigger and bigger. He had no final words for Luthor -- all he had was the knowledge that he’d done the right thing. He’d saved humanity. Now if he could just deny his own, maybe he’d save his intellect -- if he could ignore that incessant tug on his balls. ***************************************** Although a good ninety percent of the time their positions were reversed, Max did occasionally fuck Tucker. The circumstances had to be exactly right -- and most of the time, it was about what Max wanted -- but it did happen. Tucker had these long, rounded muscle-bellies, so his ass was bubbly, thick and spectacular -- the kind of ass that could (and did) stop traffic. It was the reverse of the big-dicked bottom, the top with the perfectly fuckable ass. And Max was going at it in a mix of desperation and rage that made him look like a true Alpha, just hard, masculine fucking. McGrath, who’d been floating above Tucker in a 69-position, pushed himself upright, straddling Tucker’s neck, his balls nearly smothering his Texan buddy. McGrath dumbly watched Max fuck, having never had this perspective before -- McGrath was usually the Alpha, certainly not the witness, and the action held him rapt. Tucker, for his part, rolled his eyes back in his head, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, which Zelinski kept trying to sneak in and lick until Max would slap him away. “ME AM FUCK!” Tucker moaned, muted by McGrath’s balls. Max’s own balls swung like pendulums with each thrust into Tucker’s hole. “Gonna cum, fucker,” he said. “This better work…” And he pushed in deep and released into Tucker, his orgasm deep and powerful -- he felt like he pumped a gallon of cum into Tucker’s ass. Tucker bucked his hips and shot himself, spraying all over McGrath’s torso -- McGrath, giggling like an idiot, wiped Tucker’s cum off himself (mixing it with the powder that still covered them all) and licked both from his hands. Pulling himself out of Tucker, Max was about to wipe himself down when Zelinski suddenly appeared before him, kneeling, licking his cock clean. “You next?” Max asked, as Zelinski cupped Max’s swollen balls. “I gotta fuck all three of ya…” “ONLY ONE ME!” Zelinski snorted, laughing at his own joke. Max sighed. “Fucking idiot,” he mumbled, pushing Zelinski’s face to the floor, and started fucking him down-doggie style. In the sling, Tucker shook his head and sat up, disoriented and confused. “Wha…? What happened?” he asked, looking up at McGrath, whose balls were inches from his face. “Frank? What’s going on?” “TUCKER FUCKER GOT FUCKED!” “What…?” “Hang on tight, babe,” Max said, picking up his pace on Zelinski’s ass. “Let me finish fucking these guys and I’ll explain everything.” Tucker shrugged. “Okay…” he said. “How’d our balls get so big…?” ************************************************* NEARLY A WEEK LATER McGrath got off-shift as usual, but rather than change in the department’s locker room, he flew to his house instead. These gigantic balls he had now, he hadn’t gotten used to them yet, and it made him uncomfortable in front of the other deputies. The way they stared. In private, of course, he loved them! He loved the way they contributed to his whole hypermasculine appearance, truly making him a “super” man. He loved the way they swung when he fucked and the copious amount of cum they produced. But having balls the size of oranges was something he couldn’t hide -- they forced Frank into a spotlight where he hadn’t yet learned to be comfortable. In his bedroom, however, he liked the lighting. Removing his uniform, leaving the compression shorts he wore in place, his huge nads tested the strength of the material as they stretched the pouch out of shape. McGrath couldn’t help but hit a few poses in the mirror -- a front double-bi then an ab/ thigh, which thrust his package forward, his already mind-blowing cock emphasized by its two swollen back-up singers. If he wanted a pair of posers -- and he did -- he was going to have to have them specially made. The idea of someone measuring his balls for gear turned him on more than a little bit. He slid on his Jed North gym shorts -- the short ones, the ones his legs exploded out of -- the ones that made his not-so-secret groin into a public spectacle, and his usual Sooners t-shirt, that made no secret of the incredible rest of him, either. It was Friday. And though he hadn’t seen Zelinski since… well, since everything that’d happened (he unconsciously stroked his balls), he still wanted to keep their... date. McGrath didn’t remember much -- what he did remember was hazy and dreamy -- from when he was under the spell of the virus (what Max called a virus), but what he did remember was a sense of sexual freedom and giddiness, a naive and completely unrepressed expression of his true sexual self. Everything had been easy and guilt-free when he hadn’t known better. Being stupid actually educated him. As he flew to San Francisco -- the southerly route over the desert (he’d learned his lesson) -- he went over it again: Lex Luthor had created this Bizarro-creature and infected it with a virus that would turn the New Supermen into over-sexed Bizarro clones. (This was the second time Luthor had attacked them through their sexuality -- what was it with that guy and kinky superhero sex?) Of course, they lacked the evidence to trace it back to Luthor -- the scientist who’d given Max the cure had disappeared, as well -- so all they could do was press on until his next crazy plot. That it had left the four of them with these ridiculously oversized balls, turning them into even greater sexual icons than they’d been, was the best part of the irony in Luthor trying to destroy them in the first place. Fuck you, you rich bald fuck! And just like that, the bay loomed before him. And before he’d even had the chance to take in the view, he was landing on Zelinski’s balcony. The door had been fixed, of course -- not that McGrath remembered breaking it, exactly -- but he was even happier to discover it wasn’t locked. Before he even had the chance, the door slid open, revealing Zelinski in just some fancy pink jockstrap, his own monstrous balls barely held by the cotton webbing. “Well, well,” Z said, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his arms, “look who’s….” He was interrupted by McGrath pulling him in for a kiss. Not that he tried to fight it -- he didn’t -- he just melted into McGrath’s big arms and enjoyed a moment he’d fantasized about since they’d become New Supermen. When the kiss finally broke, the two of them looked into each other’s eyes and McGrath said, quietly, “I wonder if we might try something different this time? I wonder if… uh… you might let ME ride the super-sling…?” A smile slowly broke out on Zelinski’s face, full of deviltry and desire. “Oh… yes,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss. “Yes, yes, yes. But FIRST….” He stepped into the house and motioned McGrath to follow him. As they walked to the bedroom, McGrath pulled his t-shirt off and threw it aside. As tempting as Zelinski’s hot little ass was in that pink jock, McGrath knew it was his own ass that needed the attention. The playroom was clean, meticulously clean -- the leather shone and the metal sparkled -- it didn’t even smell the way McGrath was used to, like old sex and cigars. It was like Zelinski had had the room detailed like a fine car. Zelinski opened the case he kept his dildos and toys in (it looked like a road box) and pulled out one of two gallon-sized glass jars he’d stored in there. They were stuffed full of a white powder. McGrath looked at him suspiciously, his eyebrows pushed together. “What is that?” Zelinski smiled. “It’s Bizarro,” he said. “The dust that came off him, anyway. I… gathered it all together after everybody left. If I remember correctly, it packed quite a punch.” McGrath’s cock was already getting hard -- it remembered correctly even if his brain didn’t. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Really?” Since they’d become New Supermen, their metabolisms had altered so that drugs and alcohol had no effect on them. If there was something that could get them high… Zelinski flicked his eyebrows. “Let me cut us a couple lines and I’ll show you. It’s fucking hot as fuck.” And McGrath, who’d never done cocaine before -- he’d only seen it in movies -- and who’d missed beer more than he cared to admit, anxiously took the rolled up dollar from Z and snorted his line right up, like he’d done it a million times. From the way it hit him, he knew he’d be likely to do it a million more. “FUCK ME,” he giggled, letting intellect go for a moment, and embracing idiotic pleasure. “FUCK ME FRANK-HOLE!” And Zelinski was more than happy to do just that. He even sprinkled a little Bizarro on his cock and gave McGrath a booty bump. They fucked the entire weekend away -- it surprised no one to learn they became a couple soon after that. None of the New Supermen, anyway, though they were a tiny bit jealous -- pretty much everybody wanted one of the other of them. And they pretty much all assumed that McGrath was the top and Zelinski was the bottom. But they’d be wrong. *********************************************** FIVE DAYS LATER Discipline. That’s all it took. Discipline. Deep, deep in the sub-basements of the LexCorps Tower (he didn’t know how far down), he’d maintained himself for at least ten days (he didn’t know if he was right about time -- he had no clock, no window for reference, nothing but the non-stop porn that played on the video screens). He assumed the meals were regular -- unless they were purposefully trying to mess with his sense of time, too -- so ten days seemed right. Otherwise healthy, Teng’s gonads were the size of basketballs, swollen and painfully tender. “That’s a lot of brains,” he mumbled to himself, trying to be humorous, trying to fight off the abject horror, though it was getting harder and harder. He wouldn’t cum -- he wouldn’t allow it of himself. It just took discipline. Ten days. How big would these things get before he finally gave in? They’d all find out together. Teng took a deep breath and settled into his meditation. Discipline.
  6. Absman420

    m/m THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO pt4

    PREVIOUS CHAPTER Pt4 Tucker McGee had a lot to be thankful for in life, but it all started with his overactive pituitary gland. He hadn’t been a big child, nothing that would make you look back at his baby pics and say, “you can see where he gets it,” but once his pituitary gland kicked in, once the growth hormone started being produced, Tucker’s life changed dramatically. Seemingly overnight, Tucker… thickened -- it was the summer his mother nearly gave up on buying clothes for him, he outgrew them so fast. And once the Middle School PE teacher saw him -- once the football coach saw him -- football became part of Tucker’s life. (Understanding that in Texas, this was known as the “father’s fantasy” track, so he had nothing but patriarchal support.) Tucker loved football -- and football loved Tucker. It was easy -- he just had to push guys to the left or to the right or just knock them on their ass, depending on the play. It was fun. And the bigger he got, the easier it got -- and the more fun it became. He started to get off on it. So he applied himself and began lifting (and eating) in earnest -- he took to both like a fish to water (water with food in it). It wasn’t until he was in college that he started juicing -- his frat brothers introduced him -- and that bumped him another notch. He graduated college at 275, proud of his round, hard roid-gut (he called it his tortoise-shell) and his impossibly massive legs. Tucker was simply mass personified -- he wasn’t sloppy bulky like some offensive linemen, he was thick and hard. When people saw Tucker coming, they got out of his way. He played pro-ball for a couple of years -- but it was for Buffalo and he’d hated how cold it was there, so he opted to come home to Texas and join law enforcement. Again, a perfect fit -- he thrived in that environment. And then to be recruited to be one of the New Supermen! For Tucker, that was perhaps the greatest honor of his life, better than any sports award or superbowl ring -- he eagerly accepted. The transformations were significantly more dramatic for most of the guys than it had been for him -- or at least, that’s what he thought. At 6’4”, Tucker seemed to harden, but he lost none of his curves. It was like his bulk became solid muscle. Still with the impossible thickness, but he didn’t have the stereotypical “superman” body, the pretty abs and lean hips. He didn’t care -- he’d always liked his gut, now as rock hard as the rest of him. Tucker’s other secret weapon was his Texas Horse Cock. Uncut and thick, Tucker won the lottery there, too. Sure, he’d pretty much beat his balls to death with steroids, all atrophy and ignorance, but at least genetics had balanced that loss with ample dick. If he hadn’t been a cop, he joked to himself, he could’ve easily been a porn star -- and that was true. Tucker did like to fuck and he did like to fuck for an audience. That discovery happened in college, too, at a frat party -- he and his buddies had chipped in for a prostitute and they were all taking their turns -- when they saw how big his cock was and how well he used it, they’d all started jerking off watching him. And Tucker realized he was getting off on them watching him more than he was with the actual fucking. That’s when he knew he could be a porn star! He didn’t define himself by his sexuality. He liked fucking women well enough -- he liked fucking men, too. He liked fucking. Dominating. But the thing about being with a guy was the possibility of Tucker getting fucked, too. He preferred being the top, but sometimes he felt like taking a dick, too -- it was a completely different experience. Not often, but often enough that it mattered. He also found relationships with men easier, too -- probably from being such a frat boy. Once he’d become a New Superman and women were pretty much out of the picture, Tucker found identifying himself as gay was a lot easier. And then there was Max. And he was surprised how easily and naturally he’d fallen for Max, how well they fit together, how comfortable it was to be with him. The big, muscular lug had won his heart and he was planning on sealing the deal with an engagement ring on Max’s birthday. That Max understood -- and encouraged -- Tucker to play with the others, so confident in their relationship as to bely jealousy, made Tucker love him all the more. It didn’t even qualify as a “long-distance” relationship, either -- though Tucker worked in Houston and Max in DC, they could fly to each other’s homes in less than ten minutes. That was faster than some people who lived in the same city! Tonight, though, it wasn’t a Making Love with Max he was looking forward to, it was one of those no-holds-barred, all-out Man-Fucks with Zelinski instead. Tucker sure wasn’t pretty enough for Zelinski to date, but that sweet little bottom loved Tucker’s thick cock. Tucker was Zelinski’s Go-To when Z was looking to be serious about getting dicked. He’d heard -- through the grapevine -- that Zelinski was trying to get serious with Tucker’s buddy Frank McGrath from Oklahoma. Tucker knew about McGrath’s ugly little divorce and his difficulty adjusting to his new sexuality (or at least the expression of it). They’d tried to play together a couple of times -- and though McGrath had enjoyed tag-teaming Max’s ass, he wasn’t able to do anything orally and could barely touch anybody else. In Tucker’s view, it was a shame -- McGrath had an ass that deserved some dick -- it was even more of a shame that alcohol didn’t affect them anymore. Maybe after a few stiff drinks, McGrath would’ve found some courage. Whatever. McGrath was Zelinski’s problem -- Tucker had his own man. Not that that was stopping him from flying to San Francisco after shift to pound Zelinski’s super-hole. When -- finally -- his beat was up (and after he filed some necessary paperwork on the computer at super speed), he changed clothes, gym shorts and sleeveless t-shirt emblazened with a rainbow-unicorn and the word “butch,” and brushed his teeth. He quickly texted Z. “OMW,” he wrote. The reply was a smiley-face emoji, a flexed arm emoji, a peach, an eggplant, then some spurts. Tucker shook his head, chuckling to himself -- his dick shifting a little in the jockstrap he wore beneath, making him remember to throw on a cock ring -- Zelinski was a trip. Tucker locked his front door and flew west, looking forward to the fuck. ************************************* In San Fran, the sun wasn’t completely down, casting a few last colorful rays over the horizon. As much as he loved Texas -- and cherished Houston -- there was nothing like the mountains and the way the lights of this city appeared out of nowhere. It just said “romance’. Not that he was here for romance -- he was here for fucking -- still, it was hard not to get caught up in the scenery. Landing on Zelinski’s patio, he saw that the balcony door was shattered and destroyed, not even a blanket or a piece of plywood over the hole. (Hell, Zelinsky was a New Superman -- he could fix that door in seconds if he’d put his mind to it.) Was there a problem? Was it part of some “scene”? He entered without worry, glancing around for anything suspicious -- as he got deeper into the house, he noticed some kind of… dust in the air. Didn’t matter -- he was suddenly too horny to think about it, the outline of his cock becoming obvious beneath his gym shorts. God damn, he was ready for some action! (He’d already forgotten about the door.) Tucker hadn’t realized he’d been this horny -- and it was getting worse by the second. He’d fucked Max just yesterday, but it felt like he hadn’t gotten any in weeks -- his balls felt heavy. Literally, his dick was starting to lead the way. He knew the way to Zelinski’s playroom even without his dick -- but his dick, like a good dog, was eager to lead. It was dark, but he could still see enough. There was Zelinski’s “Super-Sling”, but the body laying in it wasn’t Z -- WAY too big to be Z… “Frank?” Tucker asked -- it couldn’t be. “McGrath?” The big muscle-beast stirred, giggling in his low-pitched voice. “TUCKER FUCKER!” he said, letting his head roll back. “FUCK ME!” Something sounded… wrong about his voice, like he was tripping. Tucker stepped up between McGrath’s thick, muscular thighs, McGrath’s legs up in the stirrups. He’d known McGrath had a big cock, but look at the size of those balls -- damn! Was there some sort of powder all over him? It was too dark to tell… “What’s up, buddy?” he asked, pulling his t-shirt off and lowering his shorts, leaving himself in only the jockstrap, distended as it was by his own thick piece of meat. (A suddenly very excited piece of meat.) “Finally want to get fucked by a man?” Standing between McGrath’s legs, Tucker reached forward and grabbed McGrath’s tiny nipples. (There WAS something all over him -- what the fuck?) As he did, McGrath raised a hand and blew fistfull of powder into Tucker’s face. He pulled back in reaction, still breathing most of it in. And before he could react or strike out, the rush hit him. It had been years since he’d done any kind of drugs -- not just that, as a New Superman, drugs and alcohol weren’t supposed to affect him anymore -- but even before becoming a lawman, Tucker had only done coke a couple of times in college. And whatever this stuff was put that buzz in a (very) distant second place. This was incredible! FUCK, he was horny! McGrath giggled like a stupid idiot, wiping his hand down Tucker’s face, leaving a white streak in its path -- Tucker licked McGrath’s palm as it traveled over his mouth. More of it! More! “FUCK ME, TUCKER FUCKER,” McGrath said, a dopey smile on his face. “ME NEED COCK.” “Oh, I got a cock for you,” Tucker growled, pulling his big rod out of his jock. “I been wanting to give this to you for a long time.” McGrath looked at it, drooling. “FUCK ME!” he begged, shifting his massive body in the sling, waving his ass. “GIVE… COCK…” Tucker snorted, spitting on himself to lube up -- he had to lift McGrath’s massive balls to get to his hole. But once he had, Tucker put the head of his dick against McGrath’s virgin bud. “Gonna turn you into a little bottom bitch,” Tucker said. McGrath blew another load of powder into Tucker’s face. Tucker simultaneously inhaled and shoved. Fuck!!! “FUCK!” McGrath yelled. “YES!” “Take my big fuckin’ cock… bitch!” Tucker said, balls deep already. He slowly began thrusting. McGrath’s eyes rolled back in his head, leaving the dumb smile across his face -- ecstasy. “OHHH…. FUCK…” McGrath moaned. “Yeah, you like that,” Tucker kept mumbling. “Now that you got one inside you, you’re gonna be a bottom bitch…” “TUCKER’S BITCH,” McGrath laughed dumbly. “SO FUCKIN’ STUPID!” More powder -- this time it wasn’t McGrath, tho. Floating down from above came Zelinski, until his package was right in front of Tucker’s face. “TUCKER FUCKER!” Zelinski said. Zelinski was covered in the same weird powder that McGrath was, mixed with dried-on cum. Big, orange-sized balls in Tucker’s face -- he couldn’t resist, burying his face in Zelinski’s ample package, licking the delicious powder and addictive cum like a man with a hunger he’d never known he had. Zelinski wrapped his legs around Tucker’s head, burying the big lawman in his smell -- Tucker didn’t care. Fucking and licking and thrusting and the dust and the lusty high and the stupid moans that filled the room. And then there was someone else. Tucker didn’t know who -- Tucker didn’t care who -- just that there was suddenly someone behind him. Taller -- hard cock -- muscular arms reaching around Tucker’s torso -- white -- dusty -- so fucking horny! “ME FUCK!” the guy behind him said, sliding his not insubstantial dick into Tucker’s ass. It was almost too much stimulation. Zelinski’s balls in his mouth -- Tucker’s dick in McGrath’s tight hole -- some guy’s cock in Tucker’s butt -- the perfect set-up, but they couldn’t find the rhythm. Tucker couldn’t think how to coordinate them -- fuck, he couldn’t think at all. It all felt so good. “ME CUM!” the guy behind him said, way too soon, as if he were some inexperienced teenager incapable of controlling himself. “ME GONNA CUM!” “No,” mumbled Tucker. “Not yet…” The guy fucking Tucker suddenly thrust in deep and let go -- Tucker could feel the guy’s cum filling him, spilling down the insides of his legs. So much — it didn’t seem like it would ever stop. The guy didn’t get soft, tho. After his impressive orgasm, he stayed hard, staying inside Tucker. “NOW YOU…” he whispered to Tucker. “NOW YOU GET STUPID…” Tucker was only half-listening, he was thrusting like a man on a mission, showing what a man who could squat heavy was capable of doing -- a Superman -- to McGrath’s stupid tight hole. He felt like he was wearing ball weights -- he could feel a definite tug on his nads. He could feel them swinging. They felt like they were getting bigger. (And for a guy who’d atrophied his nuts years ago from steroid abuse, this was a welcome change.) Then he had a moment of clarity -- of realization. He remembered noting the size of McGrath’s balls when he’d first seen him in the sling -- he was sucking these massive nads of Zelinski’s -- oranges! -- were HIS getting bigger, too? Why…? “Oh, fuck,” Tucker moaned. “Gonna shoot…” McGrath laughed. “BRAINS…” he snorted. “GIVE ME BRAINS!” Zelinski laughed like a hyena, high-pitched and hysterical. “GIVE HIM ALL STUPID BRAINS! ME CUM, TOO!” And he shot a geyser all over Tucker’s face -- it tasted like the powder. Liquid lust. Big balls -- big loads. So fucking hot. Tucker drove deep and unloaded, surprising himself with the intensity of the orgasm -- it just went on and on, seemed like forever. Tucker couldn’t keep track of time -- he’d never had an orgasm like this. As he emptied into McGrath, Tucker lost his legs for a second and slumped slightly forward, leaning on McGraths rock-hard abs. McGrath raised his hands in triumph! “NOW ME GOT ALL BRAINS!” he shouted. “ME AM SUPER-SMART!” They all laughed -- Tucker, too. He wanted to make a joke, but he couldn’t find the words. “WHERE ME BRAINS?” he asked, concerned, looking around. Chuckling, rolling his head back, McGrath said, “YOU BRAINS AM NOW IN ME ASS!” Tucker sunk to the floor, looking directly into McGrath’s asshole. “GIVE BACK,” he whined. “GIVE BRAINS BACK!” He started eating McGrath’s hole, trying to suck his cum out. McGrath clenched his ass. “NO WAY, TUCKER FUCKER. ME AM SMARTEST NOW!” “WE AM ALL STUPID,” the guy who’d fucked Tucker said. Tucker looked up from McGrath’s tasty hole to see the guy -- a big, muscular guy who looked like the original Superman except covered in baby powder. And those ridiculously big balls. “ME AM BALLS!” Tucker shouted joyfully, grabbing his own package and waving it like show-and-tell. “ME AM BIG STUPID BALLS! TUCKER FUCKER AM BALLS LIKE YOU!” “SEE? YOU AM STUPID LIKE US! WE MAKE ALL SUPERMEN STUPID! HORNY AND STUPID!” They all sang. “HORNY AND STUPID! HORNY AND STUPID!” “ME AM BALLS NOW,” giggled Tucker, cradling his sac as he continued to rim McGrath. They fucked until Tucker was just as covered in dust as the rest of them. ******************************* Tucker’s boyfriend, Officer Max Malone, the New Superman for the District of Columbia, had just come off-shift and was trying to chill by binge-watching “The British Baking Show” in his Adams Morgan loft when there was a knock on his door. Strange. Why didn’t the doorman call up? With his x-ray vision, Max scanned the front door and saw an unarmed man standing there -- he seemed normal, if not slightly agitated. No threat that Max could detect. Max, dressed only in a pair of old gym shorts, showing not only his massive musculature, but the translucent S-shield adorning his chest, clearly identifying him as one of the New Supermen -- the biggest of them, frankly -- opened the door, knowing how intimidating he looked. He was easily a foot taller and a couple hundred pounds heavier than his visitor, an Asian man dressed in a suit and a lab coat. “Can I help you?” Max said with the steely-resolve of a patrol officer, crossing his arms before his massive pecs.. “Officer Malone,” said the man, “I am Doctor Teng.” He raised his hand then -- Max thought it was to shake -- and blew a handful of white powder in Max’s face. TO BE CONCLUDED
  7. Absman420

    m/m THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO pt3

    PREVIOUS CHAPTER Pt3 “As you can see from the satellite photos, Mr. Luthor, the clone has made contact with one of the New Supermen -- intel identifies him as Sheriff’s Deputy Frank McGrath from Oklahoma, recently divorced, conservative, graduated cum laude from OU. He put up a struggle, but fell victim to the Bizarro Virus within minutes -- note the significant swelling of the testicles, indicative of infection. Whether the infected Supermen become carriers themselves or just victims remains to be seen. The two were last seen flying west -- trajectory has them aimed at San Francisco. We assume they’re targeting the New Superman of that city, one Matthew Zelinski, proudly gay, liberal, engages in regular sex with multiple partners within the Supermen ranks -- one could accurately call him the ‘company slut’ if one had that sort of sense of humor. If they manage to infect him, we might have a significant outbreak on our hands.” Luthor sat back in his chair, looking up from the photos. “And isn’t that the point?” he asked bitterly. “Isn’t that why I’ve spent millions of dollars on this project? I can’t seem to kill them -- the very least I can do is turn them into the hyper-sexual idiots I think they are.” “Yes, sir. However, as you can see, the original clone is breaking down. The dust that covers McGrath is evidence of the cellular degeneration of the clone’s Kryptonian DNA. Our scientists suspected something like this would happen -- as noted, there has been little success in cloning Superman in the past.” Luthor sighed, tenting his fingers. “How long do we have?” he asked. “That’s a good question, Sir. Right now, we estimate between 48 and 72 hours before complete cellular breakdown. There are… variables…” “I just want them all fucking dead,” Luthor said with quiet intensity. “Why is that so hard?” “Sir, this is our most successful attempt so far -- it’s only a matter of time before…” Luthor held up his flat palm, signalling an end to the conversation. “Keep me updated,” he said, dismissively. Dr. Teng sighed -- he knew when he’d lost. “Yes, Sir,” he said, and left Luthor’s office. Luthor stared out the window at the setting sun. “I just want them all fucking dead,” he mumbled. “Why is that so hard?” ************************** After his shower, Zelinski allowed himself to air-dry before putting on a scanty little white silk thong and snapping selfies for his IG faithful. Though the smallest of the New Supermen -- both in height and muscle-size -- he had the best ass by far! (At least, that’s what everybody said -- and what his selfies confirmed.) There was no slut-shaming Zelinski -- not even at all. He’d gotten over that a long time ago. He enjoyed sex -- he enjoyed sex a LOT -- and he was extremely good at it. Some men had hobbies -- some men spent a lot of time at the gym -- Zelinski had sex. And now -- thanks to being a New Superman -- there was no disease he could catch, nothing communicable to stop him from playing raw. It was fucking bliss. Literally. He’d set himself up early as the go-to Superman for no-strings sexual relief, once they’d realized they couldn’t have sex with normal people anymore. He had no problem with the concept of fuck-buddies and sex-for-the-sake-of-sex -- emotional baggage was for women and selfish bottoms -- Zelinski didn’t the mistake of mixing sex with romance. (If he hadn’t been such a good cop, he figured he’d make a great gigolo.) Of the fifty or so New Supermen, he’d fucked with over thirty. Of course, he hadn’t been expecting McGrath to come along and emotionally sweep him off his feet. “Damn straight boys,” he thought. “Making me develop feelings and shit.” He LIKED McGrath -- liked his personality, his dry sense of humor, the brainy interior wrapped in the rough Oklahoma cowboy -- and he knew McGrath liked him, but just couldn’t break through the sexual-labels barrier that seemed to divide them. It was frustrating, though tolerable for the moment -- who knew how long that would last? Why couldn’t McGrath just swoop in, take Zelinski in his arms and kiss him like a God damn MAN? Damn straight boys. Okay, who could he fuck to take his mind off McGrath? He picked up his phone and opened the New Superman App. Scrolling through the profiles, he saw McGrath’s buddy Tucker McGee online. The Houston-Superman, Tucker was another cowboy-superhero -- he was also in a relationship with Zelinski’s friend Max Malone, but Zelinski thought they were open about play. (If he was online on this app, he was looking to play, regardless of his relationship status.) Tucker was a whole different kind of hunk from McGrath, similar Stetsons or not. Tucker was all-beef, thick waisted (if he weren’t a New Superman, one would say “roid gut”), big, round muscles and curved, sloping lines. Where McGrath was a force on the football field, Tucker was an obstacle. Strong and single-minded, Tucker was slow to anger but quick to action, painfully loyal to his friends. Although his cock wasn’t as big as McGrath’s, Tucker wouldn’t tucker out for hours -- and also unlike McGrath, Tucker would kiss. And kiss great! (Zelinski figured the biggest reason Tucker and Max were together was because they both liked to kiss so much.) And frankly, Zelinski could use a little lip-love right now. He texted the big Texan through the app. “Hey, Tuck -- feel like a fuck?” It wasn’t even a minute before he heard back. “Little Z! What’s up, my friend?” “My ass is up -- in the air! Could use some of that Texas tea…” “Sounds like someone’s horny.” “Help a bud out?” A slight pause. “I go off-patrol at 22:00 my time -- 8pm Pacific, right? -- I’d be happy to swing by. I could use some wild fuck.” “Beautiful! See you then! I’ll be in the Super-Sling!” He sent Tucker a pic of his ass in the white thong, as well. A beat before the response. “Don’t get me all hard while I’m on patrol. You suck!” “See you soon.” With a smirk, he tossed the phone down on his dresser. As it hit, he heard the “thump!” of someone landing on the balcony. It couldn’t be Tucker already, could it? He had at least an hour and a half before he could expect Tucker... unless the fucker had sped counter-clockwise around the earth and turned back time! Chuckling to himself, he flew up to the top of the stairs, where he could see the balcony door. Standing there silhouetted in the slanted rays of the setting sun was McGrath, shirtless, the sparkle of his S-shield reflecting the light. Was he covered in some kind of powder? McGrath reached up and fumbled the door, accidentally breaking it off the track and shattering the glass. “OOPS!” he said, giggling. “What’s up, cowboy?” Zelinski asked, from the bedroom door, keeping his distance. “Don’t know your own strength?” “ME AM HORNY,” McGrath said in some kind of odd, brainless voice. What was going on? Was this some kind of weird roleplay? “Who are you pretending to be?” Zelinski asked, adjusting his dick in his little white thong. “Doing some kind of Bizarro thing?” “ME AM NOT BIZARRO,” McGrath laughed, stepping into the room. He walked clumsily toward Zelinski and took him into his arms. “ME AM SUPER HORNY,” he said, and kissed Zelinsky full on the mouth. So much went through Zelinski’s mind so quickly he barely had time to process it all: where had this kiss come from? Since when did McGrath kiss? Was this roleplay enacted so McGrath could emotionally allow it of himself? Was there powder all over him? What was that weird taste? As soon as he thought that, he got hit with a wave of drug-induced euphoria that he hadn’t felt since his days doing “tina,” a rush of sexuality and need and a cocaine-like level of horniness that didn’t seem to abate. He loved it! Zelinski began licking McGrath’s face -- more, he suddenly thought. More! He became aware of his erection when he pressed it against McGrath’s own rock hard cock -- he loved it! Whatever was going on, it was hot as hell. Better than drugs. McGrath giggled through their kiss. “SLUTTY SUPERMAN,” he said, continuing with this Bizarro-thing. Zelinski didn’t care -- whatever. He was so horny. Slutty. And then, McGrath did something REALLY out of character -- he slid down to his knees, wiping a long streak of powder onto Zelinski’s rock-hard abs, then he greedily took Zelinski’s cock in his mouth. Zelinski gasped, reaching down and grabbing McGrath’s dusty hair, one hand pushing McGrath’s mouth down onto his cock, the other snorting and licking the powder he got off McGrath’s body. He was flying -- not literally. He was just so turned on… so horny… McGrath’s sloppy mouth on his cock and his muffled giggles. Roleplay. Whatever. Zelinski could play along. “Yeah,” he moaned. “Suck me, Bizarro…” McGrath barked out a laugh, nearly spitting out Zelinski’s cock. “ME NO AM BIZARRO,” he laughed. And then suddenly, there was someone behind Zelinski -- someone tall and heavy. Thick, muscular arms wrapped around him -- Zelinski could feel a hard cock pressing against his ass. The big arms that hugged him were covered in that same white powder. Zelinski began wiping himself against the creature’s muscle, licking and snorting. “HIM NO AM BIZARRO,” the voice behind Zelinski said. “ME AM.” And with that, the guy shoved his cock into Zelinski’s (very) ready ass. Ecstasy. Booty-bump ecstasy. Though neither of the brutes were particularly skilled, the high of the powder kept Zelinski from being critical. On his own, he could create a rhythm between the inexperienced cock and the sloppy mouth -- he knew how to control a couple of dumb tops -- so it didn’t much matter. It was so good! His every fantasy centered around McGrath kissing him, taking his cock. And now, there he was, kneeling before Zelinski, his hulking shoulders and bobbing head -- he was gripping the base of Zelinski’s balls in his very familiar grip -- he wasn’t a straight boy anymore. And then, like a teenager unused to having sex, the brute behind him was ready to cum. “ME SHOOT!” he announced, then slammed his cock deep into Zelinski’s ass. Before Zelinski could ask, “Already?” he was flooded by the guy’s load -- so much cum, it began leaking down his inner-thighs -- more kept coming, but came nowhere close to abatement. “Bizarro” must have some big balls, Zelinski thought in his ecstatic high. He found that funny and almost laughed. Stupid thought. And then something -- no, he was too high -- it felt… It felt like his own balls were growing! McGrath made a pleased sound. “BRAINS…” he mumbled, stroking Zelinski’s sensitive balls, and renewed his sucking with a growing passion. “Bizarro” stayed inside him, still hard, and renewed his thrusting. “BRAINS,” he repeated, giggling. “GIVE HIM BRAINS!” “Those are my balls,” said Zelinski. So… close… “BRAINS IN BALLS NOW,” the guy laughed. McGrath pulled them hard, stretching the balls away from Zelinski’s body -- they were nearly the size of oranges -- and that action was what made Zelinsky fall over the edge and cum. And cum. And cum. He quickly flooded McGrath’s mouth, rivulets of cum dripping down and creating paths in the powder on McGrath’s neck and massive pecs. He looked ridiculously sexy and oh, so stupid… When McGrath made eye-contact, a dumb-fuck grin on his face and his cum lipstick, Zelinski started to giggle. “NOW YOU SEE,” the creature fucking him said. Zelinski pointed to McGrath. “YOU LOOK STUPID!” he said, breaking into peals of laughter. “HA!” McGrath said, standing. “ME SWALLOW YOU BRAINS -- ME SMART NOW!” With that, he kissed Zelinski deeply, passing a mixture of cum and liquid powder back and forth between them. “YOU… AM… SMART!” Zelinski said when the kiss broke. “NOT!” How the three of them laughed. And then continued their desperate, clumsy fucking until they (and the whole playroom) were coated in the powder coming off Bizarro, like three children who’d gotten into Mommy’s beauty supplies. They lay there in a triangle, licking each other’s swollen balls, worshipping the size and taste. Bizarro Balls. Brains. “WE NEED MORE SUPERMEN,” Bizarro said, assessing the situation. “MORE SUPERMEN AM WAY MORE FUN.” McGrath teased. “HIM FUCK SUPERMEN!” he said, pointing to Zelinski. “HIM FUCK LOTS SUPERMEN!” Zelinski laughed. “ME WANT FUCK THEM ALL.” Bizarro gasped excitedly, like he’d made a common discovery, the kind that forms friendships. “ME TOO!” he said, and they high-fived. Not to be left out, McGrath said, “ME TOO TOO!” (He laughed to himself -- he was so smart since he’d swallowed Zelinski’s brains.) “SUPERMEN COME,” Zelinski explained. “SUPERMEN COME SOON. COWBOY SUPERMEN. AM YOU PAL…” he said, kissing McGrath and licking more powder from him. “TUCKER FUCKER!” McGrath said, delighted by his rhyme. (So smart…) Zelinski laughed along with him. “YES! TUCKER FUCKER! YOU AM SO SMART!” “ME WANT TUCKER FUCKER. ME ALWAYS WANTED TUCKER FUCKER.” “TUCKER FUCKER AM SOON! HOT COWBOY FUCK!” Bizarro interrupted. “HOW WE GET HOT COWBOY FUCK?” “ME KNOW! ME KNOW!” McGrath said, hand in the air, dancing excitedly. He was so fucking smart now. “ME GOT PLAN!” “YOU PLAN AM STUPID!” “SURE AM! BIG STUPID PLAN! YOU SEE! WE GET TUCKER FUCKER GOOD. LISTEN, STUPID SUPERMEN...” They moved to their places before they forgot and lay in wait, jerking themselves in anticipation. They were so smart. NEXT CHAPTER
  8. Absman420

    m/m THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO

    (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are again -- fifteen years later and I’m kicking out some sequel. Weirdly, I’ve had a Parasite story brewing in my head for years, but this Bizarro story found its way out instead. Not a long one, I promise -- five parts. I just enjoy playing with these characters. (Previously, in THE NEW SUPERMEN: Superman has left Earth, seeking his destiny among the stars. To protect the planet -- and the American Way -- Superman has selected 100 of the nation’s best police officers to take his place. Imbibing them with a serum to give them Kryptonian powers, plus a massive dose of solar radiation, these men transformed into hypermasculine superheroes. These “Super-Cops” were just adjusting to their new, super-powered bodies [and their inability to have sex with normal humans], when set upon by a plot to trap them through that very sexual weakness by Lex Luthor. Though nearly succumbing to Luthor’s manipulations, the Super-Cops ultimately foiled his plan. Now, nearly a year later, there is a feeling of normalcy and routine, even if the New Supermen had to make some sexual compromises.) Pt1 REMOTE UTAH The helicopter had been flying for an hour without seeing even the slightest hint of civilization. These remote locations had their advantages in terms of regulations and governmental oversight, but they were a gigantic pain in the ass to travel to. Finally, just as the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the mountains, the destination came in sight -- the LexCorp symbol obvious on the helipad. That Lex Luthor himself was here only indicated how close they were to success. He and his bodyguard were greeted at the helipad by the Chief Scientist, Dr. Teng, the windrush of the slowing heli-blades blowing his white lab jacket up like Marilyn Monroe on a subway grating. “Greetings, Mr. Luthor,” he shouted over the din. “We are honored to have you here -- we have shown much success in cloning…” “Yes, I know,” Luthor said bluntly, walking past the doctor toward the facility. “Take me to him.” The three entered the facility and immediately turned to a series of elevators. Had Teng not been the one with the ID card to summon the elevator, it would almost appear as if Luthor had no use for him at all. They plunged underground, deep enough that they felt their ears pop from the pressure change. Teng spent much of the time trying not to stare at Luthor’s beautiful female bodyguard, Mercy -- she spent much of the time trying to resist the urge to kick him in the balls. Finally, they arrived in the Sub-Basement Labs, easily a mile below the surface, the elevator sliding open silently. Teng motioned, “This way,” though Luthor already knew where he was going. There, in the center of the main lab, surrounded by cables and monitors and unidentifiable machines, was what could only be described as a huge glass tube, large enough to hold the overly-muscular male that floated inside it. “As you can see, Mr. Luthor, the clone is nearly ready.” The clone wore a breathing apparatus, so its face wasn’t clear, but the body more than gave away its genesis -- it was clearly a clone of Superman, the original Man of Steel -- regardless of the tight S-shield compression shirt and red speedo it wore. “And the triggers are in place?” Luthor asked, examining it. “The commands? Will it obey me?” Dr. Teng placed his hand almost affectionately on the tube. “Everything has gone according to plan, Mr. Luthor. The mental programming has been put in place. There is no reason to believe this clone won’t be completely under your control -- your own personal Superman. Now… to be fair… we haven’t run any tests since the… uh… virus was introduced…” Luthor looked at him quizzically. “Why would that make any difference?” Teng looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s an unexpected variable. As you can see, since it was introduced, the clone’s testicles have swollen to at least five times their normal size. We had to create special trunks that would fit them…” Mercy rolled her eyes at Teng’s awkwardness -- men put so much unnecessary importance on their genitals. Bigger balls meant a bigger target to kick as far as Mercy was concerned. “It’s fine, Teng,” Luthor said, glancing casually at the clone’s big gonads. “It’s all part of the virus.” “This is the most success we’ve ever had cloning Kryptonian DNA, sir. It seems a little far-reaching to unnecessarily add…” “Are you questioning me, Teng?” Luthor asked calmly -- Mercy seemed to stand even more at alert. “No, Sir!” Teng said a little too quickly. He knew what happened to people who fell on the bad side of Lex Luthor. “I simply counsel caution. We’re not even certain about the stability of the cloning process, much less…” “It’ll be fine,” Luthor said. “Even if he only kills one of them, it’ll have been worth the money. Release him.” “But, Sir, he’s only at fifty-percent -- he hasn’t been exposed to sufficient sunlight…” “RELEASE HIM!” Nervously, Dr. Teng went to the console. Before pressing the button, he shut his eyes and said a silent prayer -- even Luthor couldn’t control his thoughts -- all he could do now was hope for the best. He pressed the release button. As they watched the fluid drain from the tube, Luthor mumbled, “FInally -- a superman of my own…” He knew it was only a matter of time before they could clone a super-body to transfer Luthor’s MIND into -- then he’d personally settle the score. One step at a time. The tube raised, taking the breathing apparatus away with it, leaving the clone standing, semi-dazed as it came to consciousness, dressed only in the tiny, tight Superman shirt and stuffed red speedos. The clone looked pale, having never been exposed to sunlight -- it resembled an albino bodybuilder. It stood uncertainly on its feet, absorbing its surroundings, then looked down and noticed itself. It ran its hands over its muscular torso, flexing its biceps and smiling at their size. The process of self-discovery gave the clone an erection. “Horny,” it mumbled… and began to clumsily masturbate. Luthor moved to take control, standing before the clone with his arm held out before him in a “stop” motion -- easily a foot shorter than the behemoth, Luthor barely came to its pecs. “I am Lex Luthor,” he stated firmly. “Your creator. You will obey me!” The clone looked at Luthor with a semblance of recognition, smiling slightly, but making no move to stop playing with itself. “What’s wrong with it?” Luthor asked Teng. “Why isn’t it listening to me?” “It could be any number of things,” Teng said hastily, carefully walking toward Luthor but making sure to face the clone. “It could be the Kryptonian gene-stock -- it could be the virus you introduced…” “Horny…” “There’s so much we don’t know about Superman…” “SUPERMAN!” the clone cried -- and shot a load that nearly hit Luthor and Teng. The clone’s orgasm lasted nearly half-a-minute, going on and on. And the longer it lasted, the more the clone’s moans turned to giggles -- it was as if his intelligence, not his ejaculate, that was cumming out of his oversized balls. “Oh my dear Lord!” whispered Teng, stepping back. “What is happening? All I did was mention Superman…” “SUPERMAN!” the cloned cried. “ME WANT SUPERMAN! ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN!” “What…?” “Yes!” Luthor said, stepping toward the clone. “Superman. You fuck Superman!” “Mr. Luthor!” “Mercy, shut him up.” Before Teng could speak another word of protest, Mercy kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over -- she would’ve preferred her target to be his balls, but whatever. Teng collapsed, moaning quietly -- scientists rarely put up a fight -- curled up on the floor. Luthor remained focused on the clone. “You find Superman,” he said. “You fuck Superman.” “ME FUCK SUPERMAN!” “Yes!” “SOOO HORNY…” “So fuck Superman... stupid.” “YES! FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID!” Suddenly, the clone bucked his hips, orgasming again -- the front of his speedo soaking in his cum, dripping to his feet. His laughter was the giggle of a child. “FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID,” he laughed. “YES… ME MAKE SUPERMAN HORNY AND STUPID!” “Okay,” Luthor smiled. “Sure. Go and fuck Superman stupid.” “ME GO! ME GO FUCK SUPERMAN STUPID!” They stood there staring at each other, the clone with an empty grin as he gently stroked himself. “Go NOW…” Luthor said, nearly exasperated. “YES!” the clone said, as if having the idea was brilliant. “ME GO NOW!” And with that, the clone looked around and, seeing only the elevator, bound toward it with a speed that belied his size. Before Luthor could react, the clone ripped the elevator doors open with his super-strength and then began ascending the shaft by lifting himself hand-over-hand up the cable. They stood there in the silence of the lab for nearly a minute, listening to the clone work his way up the mile-long shaft -- he clearly hadn’t realized he could fly (or perhaps he hadn’t been powered up enough) -- then, from very high above them, they heard the groan of creaking metal, a loud, childish laugh, and then the wreck of the elevator car crashed into the opening. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile,” said Luthor, wryly. None of them laughed. NEXT PART
  9. Absman420

    m/m THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO pt2

    PREVIOUS CHAPTER Pt 2 McGrath, the Sheriff’s Deputy from Oklahoma, was smoking a cigar while he fucked his buddy Zelinski in the “super-sling” that Zelinski had mounted in his San Francisco playroom. McGrath had been a big man before becoming one of the New Supermen -- corn and beef fed they said of the male stock in that region -- but since his transformation, he was one of the biggest men alive. (Really only two or three bigger.) Thick, brutish muscle, he was large before he’d played college ball for the Sooners, when he really bloomed to peak size (what he’d thought was his peak, till his transformation). But McGrath maintained a GPA that allowed him to graduate cum laude -- unlike most inside linebackers, he had the brawn AND the brains. With a Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice/ Law Enforcement, McGrath knew what he’d wanted to be long before football had come into the picture. And he loved being a lawman. He loved the badge and the power and the sexual fantasy that accompanied the job. How many women had big, hunky, Deputy McGrath seduced in his time with his muscular ass and husky thighs stretching his Sheriff’s uniform to the max? And again, McGrath had been well-equipped before becoming a New Superman. From simple observation in the team locker room, McGrath knew his cock was one of the biggest, too -- probably only two or three bigger. His wife had loved it -- and he’d loved giving it to her. And honestly, if there were a down-side to being one of the New Supermen, it’s that he wasn’t able to fuck women anymore. He’d tried it with his wife -- her riding him -- but it wasn’t enough. They both liked down-and-dirty too much. And he knew that if he’d pounded into her the way he used to, he’d simply crush her beneath him. So their sex life foundered. Who knew that it was more important to her than their marriage? (Their marriage had never stopped HIM from fucking around on the side.) Whatever. It’d been going stale, anyway -- and he enjoyed his role as Superman significantly more. Besides, fucking Zelinski’s tight ass was nearly as good as any pussy he’d ever had, including his wife’s. More, Zelinski liked it even harder than she ever had -- he could really cut loose and not worry for a second about damage or safe words. McGrath still considered himself straight -- he just took advantage of opportunity. He couldn’t fuck women anymore, so he fucked men -- he had to fuck something, after all. But he wasn’t gay -- he didn’t suck cock. He’d touched a couple of the other New Supermen, nipple play and stuff -- he’d gone so far as to kiss his buddy Tucker -- but he wasn’t gay. He didn’t DESIRE men -- he just fucked them because there was no other choice. And Zelinski was a great fuck (plus he could take McGrath’s entire cock), so a couple times a week McGrath flew out to Zelinski’s San Francisco loft and dropped a load or two. Zelinski was exactly the type of guy McGrath preferred in a fuck-buddy -- he was grateful and adventurous and playful, but not demanding or clingy or caught in the mire of romantic feelings. They got together -- they fucked -- they went their separate ways. McGrath wished he could’ve had that kind of relationship with his former wife. That Zelinski had gone so far as to make this “Super-Sling” only emphasized his commitment to giving all the New Supermen the sexual outlet they needed -- the ones who’d remained single, anyway. Some of the New Supermen had gotten together into “relationships”. McGrath knew that his buddy Tucker had paired off with Max Malone -- McGrath had played with them a couple of times, but he wasn’t into all the kissing and shit, so he finally gave up on them as anything other than friends and instead spent his sexual time with Zelinski. It was better (for him) when relationships were clearly defined. And nothing more clearly defined him as a top than the pounding he was giving Zelinski now while McGrath smoked a cigar, wearing only his work boots and a black baseball cap reading “DEPUTY” in block white letters. McGrath’s thick handlebar mustache and his perpetual five o’clock shadow gave him the look that every bottom fantasized about as their ultimate Daddy -- at least, that was how Zelinski lived the moment. He had the same Tom of Finland fantasy every time McGrath fucked him. McGrath pumped to a fever pitch, his breath hitched, and he shot his load deep into Zelinski’s hole. “Fuckin’ hell yeah,” he groaned, exhaling a plume of cigar smoke. “Take that shit.” It didn’t last long -- McGrath’s orgasms never did -- before he was pulling his generous dick out of Zelinski and wiping it down. He noticed Zelinski just lying in the sling, catching his breath. “You gonna cum?” McGrath asked, as he cleaned himself off. Zelinski sighed contentedly. “You gonna help?” he asked with a smirk. McGrath snorted. “You know I ain’t gay, Z. I don’t do cock.” Zelinski laughed as he started beating off. “Says the guy who just fucked my ass.” McGrath turned back to face him. “And fucked it good,” he said, reaching in to grab Zelinski’s balls. With a firm hand, he squeezed the root of Zelinski’s sac until he heard a moan. “That what you like, you little homo?” he growled. “Yes, Sir,” Zelinski moaned, jerking himself hard. “Yes, Daddy…” “Shoot your load, boy,” McGrath ordered, sucking on his stogie with his free hand. “Shoot it now while you’re all full of Daddy’s cum.” And Zelinski did, blowing a load that landed across his throat and chin. Fuck, he loved these straight dudes. He screamed as he let go. McGrath smiled. His job here was done. “So,” McGrath said as he slid his underwear back on and Zelinski floated up out of the sling, landing by his cum towel, “we still good for Friday?” Zelinski chuckled. “We’re good anytime you wanna give that big cock, my friend. I fuckin’ LOVE that dick,” he said, wiping himself down. “I just wish I could get you to love mine.” McGrath shrugged his massive shoulders. “We are who we are,” he said, zipping up his black cargo pants. “Look, Z, if I were gay, you would…” “I know, I know… I’m not trying to make a thing out of it -- I’m just sayin’...” They stood there awkwardly facing each other, the sexual pull between them undeniable, but McGrath just couldn’t do it -- he couldn’t kiss Zelinski. Instead, he gave him a Bro-Hug. “Look, gimme some time…” McGrath whispered in Zelinski’s ear. “There’s no one else I’d want to do this with…” Zelinski smirked. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” he laughed. McGrath pushed him away. “Fuck you,” he said playfully, and reached for his shirt. “Yeah, you will,” Zelinski said, heading toward the bathroom. “On Friday. Have a good flight… daddy.” McGrath wanted to throw something at him, but he knew his super-strength would be more destructive than playful, so he flipped Zelinski off instead (to Zelinski’s laughter), stubbed his cigar butt out and slid his t-shirt on -- the word “Sooners” stretched across his chest. He heard the shower come on, so without a formal goodbye, McGrath stepped out onto Zelinski’s balcony and flew off toward home. He’d done this flight a thousand times -- he could almost do it blindfolded, From San Francisco, he flew Easterly, though he preferred a more Northerly flight path over Nevada, Utah and Colorado, rather than the more direct Southerly pass over Arizona and New Mexico (and part of that shithole Texas). He liked the scenery of the Rockies versus the desert -- there was plenty of flat and boring in Oklahoma, thank you, give this man the mountains. But then, just as he was flying over Glen Canyon National Park in Southeastern Utah, just as he was settling into a post-orgasmic, blissful, trance-like flight (listening to a Tim McGraw album on his headphones), he was hit directly from beneath, unexpectedly, by what seemed like a missile -- it momentarily knocked the wind from him. “What the actual fuck?” he asked no one. Looking around for what hit him. Tim McGraw sang about being humble and kind. Then it hit him again, this time from behind, and drove him -- at super-speed -- down onto the ground before he could get his bearings. It was a person -- a man -- it was a some-ONE, not a some-THING. Someone with super powers. McGrath forced himself up from the ground and back-handed the guy off him, knocking him about twenty or thirty feet back, where he landed in a puff. Regaining his feet, McGrath noticed a white, chalky dust on the back of his fist where he’d hit his adversary. He wiped a bit with the fingers of his other hand and sniffed it. And he was suddenly horny. It hit him like cocaine -- that’s what it reminded him of, this white, chalky dust -- except drugs weren’t supposed to affect him anymore. And what… was the guy covered in it or something? Why was McGrath’s dick hard? The guy stood, shaking off McGrath’s wallop. He was a gigantic thing, six-four, six-five, close to three hundred pounds of muscle -- simply massive -- dressed only in a Superman compression shirt and a pair of over-stuffed red speedos. To look at him, he COULD be the actual Superman, he looked so similar, except for the fact that his skin lacked pigment and his hair was a disheveled mess -- he was a white as a snowman. Glancing at the powder on his own hands, McGrath wondered if the guy was covered in it… or if he was producing it somehow. Whichever, he had a shit-eating grin on his face -- he looked like an idiot. He HAD to be coked out, McGrath thought. (Although, horny as he was, McGrath couldn’t help but notice the guy’s huge, swollen ball sac, big to the point of being uncomfortable, causing Macrath to inadvertently lick his lips.) “All right, pal,” he said, in a ready-stance, “what the fuck is goin’ on?” The monster laughed, a big, fool’s laugh. “BAD WORD!” he said, pointing. “YOU NO AM SUPERMAN! YOU AM BAD WORD!” “Are you okay?” McGrath asked, warily. “Are you on something?” “ME WANT ON SUPERMAN! YOU NO AM SUPERMAN! YOU AM BAD WORD!” Casually, McGrath pulled the Sooners tee over his head, revealing his own heavily-muscled torso, and the metallic S-shield that was tattooed across his mighty chest. “I think you’ll find me a worthy substitute,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “YOU... AM... SUPERMAN!” the thing said, as if discovering something new. “ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN!” “What…?” And then, with a burst of super-speed, the creature was on him and knocked McGrath onto his back. “ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN,” the thing said, and it began kissing McGrath, over and over again, like someone who’d never kissed an adult before. The dust that came off the creature -- that coated the creature? -- McGrath could smell it -- taste it -- it WAS like cocaine. Horny cocaine. As he wrestled with this creature, he got more of it on himself… in himself. He could feel the thing’s erection pressing against him. He could feel his own pressing back. What the fuck…? “YOU AM FEEL IT NOW!” the creature rasped, as if his throat were dry, too -- or he didn’t know how to whisper. “YOU AM HORNY SUPERMAN!” Lifting up into the air, McGrath tried to flip the creature over his head, but then ended up slamming them both into the ground on their backs, raising more dust -- he couldn’t break the thing’s hold. Admittedly, he wasn’t used to wrestling (seriously) with guys that had strength equal to his own -- even in his daily work as a deputy, he rarely came across anything that required his full strength. Sure, every now and again he’d lift a car, or a tree blocking the road, but nothing like this. “ME AM SO HORNY FOR SUPERMAN!” Without even trying to, the creature easily flipped position and scissored McGrath’s head with its massive quads -- its over-sized balls right in McGrath’s face. Impossible to breath -- everything smelled like sex and horny energy. He was having trouble fighting back. The creature squatted and t-bagged McGrath, his grapefruit-sized balls flopping to either side of McGrath’s face, smothering him in ecstasy. He reached up and grabbed the thing’s quads, perhaps in an effort to pull himself off the ground, instead he put himself deeper in the creature’s sac. He didn’t care. The way he was feeling right now -- he wasn’t caring about much of anything. “YOUR COCK AM SO HARD!” the creature said, grabbing it. “YOU AM SO HORNY!” McGrath drew in a deep breath, moaning -- his face was covered in powder, giving him the look of someone hit too hard by a makeup poof. He wiped it off and licked it -- he wanted it straight from the source. “Yeah, gimme your cock,” McGrath panted, desperately. “I need that cock... ” “ME FUCK SUPERMAN,” the creature said, laughing his stupid laugh. “ME MAKE SUPER HORNY!” “Yeah, fuck me,” McGrath heaved, his desperation growing, pulling his pants off. “Put it in me!” “ME FUCK YOU!” the creature said, playing with its own dick, sliding a dusty finger into McGrath’s hole. “ME FUCK YOU STUPID!” It was the creature’s balls that were swollen, not its cock -- McGrath’s own was significantly bigger -- but McGrath had never had any cock at all, remember, so his virgin ass was going to be feeling it no matter what. Except something about the dust coming off the creature wasn’t making him feel much of anything other than lust and need. He felt its cock against his hole, pressing for entrance -- and briefly, he thought it might hurt, but he didn’t care -- he didn’t even care if it made him gay -- he just let it in. He needed it. And it was ecstasy from the moment it was inside. The creature clung to him, humping him doggie-style, but wrapped around McGrath’s muscular torso, one hand in McGrath’s mouth, so that McGrath sucked on the creature’s fingers, licking the candy-coating straight off. He felt nothing but idiotic bliss as the creature’s enormous balls slapped against his hamstrings. “ME CUM NOW!” the creature roared. “ME GIVE SUPERMAN BIG LOAD!” And then he did -- he slammed deep into McGrath’s muscular ass and filled him with cum, every ounce those giant balls could produce. Liquid ecstasy. The creature stayed inside him, reaching around and grabbing McGrath’s rock hard cock. “NOW YOU,” the creature growled in his ear. “NOW YOU GET STUPID! HORNY AND STUPID!” McGrath’s balls started to swell, as if they were filling with the creature’s ejaculate. McGrath held his package, moaning, the weight of his nads increasing -- the sexual charge growing right along with them. The creature jerked him with rough, clumsy strokes, but McGrath was so blissed out it didn’t matter. He was moments away from shooting -- moments away from losing all control. He felt so fucking good! “SHOOT, HORNY SUPERMAN!” McGrath, unable to help himself, threw his head back and yelled, “YES! FUCK, YES! HORNY SUPERMAN SHOOT!” And then he did -- this huge, blinding, stupefying orgasm. His big, swollen balls pumped out ropes of thick, white jizz. More and more -- every little bit of him. Even as the last drops dribbled out -- a line like thick, white snot descending from the open tip -- McGrath’s dick remained semi-erect. He continued to play with it, licking the dribs of cum from his fingers as if discovering the taste. He was nearly covered in white powder, making him look like a bodybuilding clown. For no reason, he found that funny and started giggling. The creature chuckled with him, pulling his cock out of McGrath’s ass -- there was a tight “pop!” that made them both laugh out loud. “YOU AM STUPID!” the creature said, delighted. “YOU AM STUPID NOW!” McGrath laughed -- a big, braying, bovine laugh. “ME... AM... STUPID!” he said, smiling, looking around. “WHERE… WHERE BRAINS GO?” The creature laughed, smacking McGrath on the ass. “YOU SHOT ALL YOUR BRAINS OUT, SUPER COCK! YOU AM STUPID NOW!” The two of them looked at each other for a moment, trying to comprehend, then they broke out laughing and they hugged. “STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!” they sang and danced around each other, big balls flopping and cocks dribbling. They awkwardly kissed, suddenly reminding themselves they were horny and desperate, covering each other in the powder. McGrath felt a new kind of need — the need to pass it on. (Not that he was in a position to articulate it.) “WE NEED FUCK MORE SUPERMEN!” he said with a smile. (Okay, maybe he could articulate it.) “HORNY…” The creature vigorously nodded. “YES! MAKE MORE HORNY SUPERMEN!” “ME NEED SUPER COCK!” The creature looked around. “WHERE AM MORE SUPERMEN?” Putting his hand on the Creature’s mighty chest. “ONE SUPERMEN,” McGrath said with seriousness and intensity, as if this were taking all his concentration. “TWO SUPERMEN,” he continued, touching himself. “WE AM TWO SUPERMEN!” he laughed, clapping childishly. “YOU AM SO STUPID,” the Creature laughed. “WHERE MORE SUPERMEN AT?” “ME KNOW! ME KNOW!” McGrath jumped up and down with his hand in the air. “THERE AM MORE SUPERMEN IN SAN FRANCISCO! SLUTTY SUPERMEN!” “ME LOVE FUCK SLUTTY SUPERMEN!” “YAY! MAKE SLUTTY SUPERMAN STUPID, TOO!” Again, they danced joyfully together. “WE MAKE ALL SUPERMEN HORNY AND STUPID!” They cheered, then stood there looking at each other blankly. “WHERE WE GO?” “SLUTTY SUPERMEN’S HOUSE, HORNY STUPID!” McGrath laughed. “RIGHT! ME NEW AT STUPID! NOT GOOD LIKE YOU!” They laughed together, hugged and kissed again. “LET’S GO!” Holding hands, they flew off. NEXT PART
  10. Tattcub

    Priapus Pictures

    Hi All, This is a story that was inspired and given permission to play in by one of my fave authors Absman420 Anyway I hope you enjoy it Parts 1 to 5 Have fun TC I work for a guy named Saul Bennett. He’s sort of a modern-day porn maven. Lots of money, loads of girls and guys. No morals. I work for him because I have no choice. (more on this later) I don’t think anyone here does except maybe the guy who does all his hocus pocus for him. He’s one scary bastard. Here’s a story about one of the guys who got in his way. It wasn’t long after Saul had fired Mick Masterson, he had been a real top dollar star for Bennett till like all things Mick’s body had started to go south on him. Nothing major as the guy still had fans and his bod was still great just his age. That was Saul’s excuse anyway. I heard him say it was because he’d fallen in love with some guy, pretty bodybuilder type and Saul didn’t like split loyalties. Anyway, on with the story… James Fraser is or should I was an entertainment lawyer working out of west Hollywood. He was the guy who did contracts for studios big and small tying their actors up in red tape, so the studios got their monies worth. Except James was a rare type. He actually cared about his clients, so he had a specialisation that was more about helping the actors get out of their deals with the big sharks who own these studios. For example, his most recent case was against one Saul Bennett and his studio Priapus Pictures. This guy came to James about a contract he had signed some time back with Priapus and wanted out. His partner had just died and he just didn’t have the heart to carry on in the industry any more. Bennett refused to cancel his contract even though the guy was happy to pay any penalty fee for doing so. So, the client came to James and asked for representation “James, your 2-o clock is here.” Said his assistant Diane as James re-entered his office after his lunch with another client. “Thanks Di. “said the 33-year lawyer smiling as he took his jacket off and threw it over the chair in the outer room. He was a good-looking man standing about 5 ft 9 tall. He had dark hair cut short on the back and side and had twinkling green eyes that always seemed ready to smile. His taut athletic body was a good swimmers build from many hours in the pool at his apartment building and light gym three times a week. He was well liked by the entire company, always willing to help out and fight for any underdog cause that took his mind. He was a good man. He opened the door to his office and went in to greet his client Manuel Cortez. Manny to his friends. Manny stood and shook hands with him. “Hi James or is it Jim?” Said Manny smiling nervously as he stood to greet the lawyer. “Please, please sit and it’s James.” Said the lawyer smiling. “My dad was Jim or Big Jim as everyone called him.” Said James as he made himself comfortable at his desk and reached for the clients file. Manny nodded in acknowledgement and said ” So, any news on my case?” James looked at the last page on the file which contained a vitriolic letter from Bennett’s team about what Manny and James could do with their suit. It was pretty much a good luck and see you in court letter. James explained this to Manny and the he just sat there and hung his head. When he raised it again to look at James he had tears in his eyes. “I can’t do this James, not any more. The things that he gets us to do.” Said the crying man. “It’s not that I think they’re disgusting, it’s not that at all. I’m a gay man and gay sex and experimentation is fine. I’m even fine with gay does straight. It all pays the bills doesn’t it and I like the sex. It’s none of that. It’s the fact we have no choice about what scenes we do. I’m pretty easy going and my partner used to just say go with the flow as we were both earning well out of it. Now he’s gone I just don’t feel it any more. “Manny wiped a tear from his eye as he talked. “When I said he gives us no choice I meant it.” He paused for moment to catch his breath. “When we’re on set something seems to come over the cast. No of us ever seem to argue with the directors on set. Ever. Something’s going on and it’s scaring the shit out of me. I don’t want to be there. Since Rico died It’s like veil was lifted from me. We were a great duo, did loads of pics together and we loved doing them. We never questioned Saul’s methods because times were good and if I’m honest we were pretty high most of the time too. Saul provided all those sweeties too. Said he had his own alchemist as he called his dealer I think. I think there was more than dope and china in that mix because we all just toed the line you know ?” Finally stopping and taking a drink from his water glass. He looked over at James to see how he was reacting from his total honesty about this situation. James sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Are you saying that Bennett actually forced you all into sexual acts and drug taking ?” he said “No, it’s not like that it’s more that he gave this stuff away for free and we didn’t even think to object to any of it.” Said Manny. “It’s only now that I haven’t been on set in a couple of months that I am finally clear headed. There worst thing was I didn’t touch any of that shit to start with. I was so nervous in the beginning I could only drink water on set.” He finished. “Look, Manny this could be a criminal case too if Bennett can be proven to be a dealer or that he is somehow forcing you all to work against your wills.” He Stood up from his desk and closed the file. “I think I should meet Mr Saul Bennett for myself and see what’s going on at Priapus Pictures.” Manny stood too. “Look man, please be careful. This man is dangerous and has a lot of power in this town. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you for getting involved.” “Don’t worry about me Manny.” Said the lawyer reassuringly. “I’ve dealt with guys like this before. I have my own contacts in this town too.” They shook hands and Manuel left the office. Turning and nodding his thanks before he closed the door. James picked up his mobile and dialled his wife “Hi Hun, really sorry I think I’m going to be late home tonight. Yeah…. A new case…..Don’t worry I’ll send out for something. Okay…bye…Love you too. So James had a plan, of sorts. He needed to rattle this guy, to get him out in the open and to make a mistake somewhere. A mistake that he, James could capture and exploit. He picked up his phone again. He had just the guy he could use for this job. “Hey Max.” He said smiling. “I’ve got a job for you bro are you up for it?” He asked. “Ever heard of a guy called Saul Bennett? His company Priapus Pictures?” “Yeah, that’s him.” He said to his long-time friend Maxwell Calder. Max was a private detective and old friend of James’ from way back in their college days. “I need you to do me a favour. Do you still do undercover shit ? I know you still love that James Bond stuff.” Said James smiling as he remembered his friends first forays into the field as an eager much younger man. “Well, we should meet up and talk. Lunch tomorrow? At Deano’s ? Yeah..Haha…” He laughed at his friends “Where else?” Comment . “Okay buddy. Yup, about 1.30 ?” He hung up. James looked back at the file on his desk. He had a few other calls to make. Insurance was always a great idea in this town. L.A. was not forgiving on the careless or the over eager. He had a long night ahead. He picked up his phone once more and dialled. It took a moment or two to answer. “Mz D.” He said to the feminine voice that answered. “Good to speak to you.” “Why James. “Said the throaty voice at the other end of the line. “It has been a while. It could be said that you have been remiss in your attentions.” She chided gently. “Awww Mz D. You know you truly are the only woman for me.” Said James smiling as he reacquainted himself with the accent and manners of the lady on the line. One who also had very, singular talents. One’s that he, James felt were going to be needed sometime very soon. James sat back in his chair and turned to look out at the skyline onto L.A. and its sunset of promises, promises that all to often turned out to be smoke and mirrors. Well, maybe not this time. With any luck. “I need a favour sweet lady.” Said the lawyer. MAX. Maxwell Calder was a a private detective in Lala land. He looked at his file on Priapus and Bennett and wasn’t surprised by what he read there. He’d been through several of these joints in his years investigating Los Angeles seedier side. He was still young enough at 35 to still be open minded and old enough to not be surprised any more. He’d done his background checks with his various contacts and knew for damn sure that Bennett was dirty and had his fingers in many, many pies. Porn, mainstream and “other.” Every form of fornication and filth was bread and butter to this guy and he’d made a fortune from it. James and by extension Manny James’ client had warned him to be careful as Bennett was well known to be resourceful and unforgiving of betrayal. Max had decided to go in undercover on a low-level crew type security or roady type, etc. You know the drill, the polite escorting of over eager fans from sets etc or the occasional diverting of a loved one/ partner away from the stars dressing rooms when they were “resting” or otherwise engaged. Purgatory were big enough that they recruited regularly, and this industry was full of people trying to “break into the biz.” He managed to get himself on a crew doing general security for a new movie that had the working title of New Fish. This was a prison scene in a mock up studio version of a prison block. It was going to be one of those gang bang movies. Max wasn’t gay himself but the thought of seeing a room full of guys wasn’t totally his thing. However he was professional and had no issues with gay guys at all so it wasn’t a problem. He was due to start at the studio at 7am the next day in a studio lot in some warehouse district somewhere. Knowing what this Bennett was like meant Max wasn’t going to go in wired or carrying a camera. He just had a mobile phone that took good pics and also recorded sound a lot longer than most of the other phones of it’s type. He picked up the phone and called James. “Hey buddy, it’s me.” Said the detective. “Yeah, all sorted. Job starts tomorrow. Aha…Yeah low level security/go-fer sort of thing.” “Ha ha…Very funny. I did it for you in college didn’t I why wouldn’t I run around for others for the job ?” he said smiling at his friends comments on the line. “Listen, if we start this we have to see it through. This guy has power and contacts. You know how much that’s worth in L.A. don’t you?” warned Max. “Yeah, I will. You too James. Don’t expect to hear from me for a few days. Speak soon as I can.” He hung up the phone. He looked at himself in the mirror. In looks he had that almost faded Cali surfer look going on. Slightly longer than normal naturally blond hair and clear blue eyes. Gave the impression of blankness which was handy in his business as many people underestimated him. He could turn on the dumb if he wanted to but in this instance, he decided to be a man of few words. He got his gear packed and decided to hit the shower before his job started tomorrow. James had waited about 4 days before picking up the phone and calling Max’s number. As he had expected he got the answer phone. Max always used burner phones when he worked so his real one would be stashed elsewhere for now “Hey, buddy. Just checking in with you. I know you don’t like to break your cover but give me a call when you can. Just looking for a prog rep.” He put the phone back on the desk and started to work on the papers laid out in front of him. He just had a niggling feeling about this gig with Bennett, that it was going to be a lot bigger than he wanted. He leaned to the intercom. “Di could you bring in todays mail and a bottle of water please?” he asked his assistant. She came through the door moments later with a bundle in a tray and a bottle of cool water. “Here you go chief.” She said smiling. James smiled at her. Laughing and shaking his head. “Let me guess, you’re auditioning for a part later ?” he asked. “How did you guess? “ She smiled sassily as she handed him the mail. The top of which was crowned with a brown padded envelope. He took the bundle and the water. “Haha…I dunno, calling me chief was the clue. Reporter maybe?” he said looking up at her with raised eyebrows. “Wow you should have been the P.I. I’ll be gone for a couple of hours but will come back to finish off later if that’s okay ?” she said as she turned to the door. “No, no don’t worry about coming back. “ He told her. “It’s Friday you may as get your weekend on early.” She smiled as she turned. “Thanks chief.” And gave him a mock salute as she went back into the outer office. James looked down at the pile of mail. Looks like his weekend was not going to start early at all. His eyes were drawn to the envelope. It was hand written, badly by the look of it but it was familiar. It was also unstamped which meant it had been hand delivered too. He opened up the packet and found it contained two things. One was a cell phone and the other was a micro SD card. On the phone was stuck a note. PLAY US BOTH TOGETHER. He paused for a moment and looked out into the main office. Diane had gone so he couldn’t ask who had dropped this off. He looked at the phone and switched it on. It didn’t seem to have any service but could still be opened up. He put the SD card into his laptop and scanned it first, just in case. It came up clear. He clicked on the icon for the card when it came up and it came up with one file that read. PLAY ME. He did so and the screen blanked out for a moment and started up a slide show. PRESS PLAY ON THE PHONES SOUND RECORDER NOW. James did so. The voice that came through was disguised. “Mr Fraser, good afternoon. If my calculations are correct you should be receiving this package at sometime around 2 pm on Friday afternoon.” There was a pause and the sound of someone making noise in the background. They sounded angry and sounded if they might be gagged or being stopped from talking. “I believe we have a friend of yours with us. He was found snooping about and before you stop this and call the police I can assure you that by the time the end of this recording has finished you will be aware that your friend Mr Calder is more than happy to be with us.” “In fact you will be the first to witness our latest movie. It’s a prison gang scene about a guy who’s caught undercover by his fellow inmates. “ The screen lit up on the laptop as the slideshow continued. On the screen was a man tied to a chair with his hands behind his back. His face was covered with a towel or something like it. His clothes were rumpled and the sleeve on his shirt was torn and bloody. Two very large muscular men stood either side. One of them was a very well presented man in a prison guards uniform. His hair was very short on the back and side and brushed back 1950’s style. He was very athletic having the look of sportsman or coach in a uniform. He was good looking in a sexy daddy sort of way. Tached and salt and pepper colouring. The guy on the left-hand side was huge and dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit that hand the sleeves cut off. There was no way they would ever have been able to hold the arms that the man had. He looked like he had be hewn rather than born. Grown out of the stone floor he was standing on. His shaved head gleamed in the light of the room, accented with a heavy black goatee beard and pale grey eyes. His arms were folded around his chest and he seemed to unconsciously be flexing them. He was about 6ft and seemed to be staring like his guard companion blankly out of the picture and at James himself. “Mmmmmf….mmm…mmesss.” Said the panicked voice of the person under the towel. “Yes, yes. “ said the dark voice. “Warn him all you like.” It said nonchalantly. “It won’t make any difference.” It paused for a moment. “ Mr Fraser, please be aware if you attempt to contact the police or even stop this recording before we have shown you our work please know that they will find nothing and you will not be seeing your friend Max again.” With that the next picture came up and it was of the guy in the chair and it confirmed James’ suspicion as Max was revealed. His hair was a mess and he has a wild look in his eyes. He looked genuinely afraid. He had a bloodied nose and what seemed to be a black eye. His mouth was gagged with what looked like a rubber ball gag, a standard BDSM toy on a set for a porn film. Max looked out at the camera from the still photo as his voice was heard in the background. “We’re just getting Mr Calder ready for his close up James.” Said the sinister voice as the next picture was of the two large men ripping Max’s shirt off. “First a little, preparation. Hold him.” The next picture flashed up and was of the prison guard injecting Max with something just into his neck while the prisoner bull held him steady. “Mmmmmmm!....Ngghhh…!” James heard Max’s muffled cries…Ove the next few drawn out minutes they got weaker and weaker until he heard a subdued groaning coming from his friends mouth. “Ahh that’s better. Now to work. Max, Max can you hear me ?” Said the man. “Mfff.” Said Max. The next picture flashed up and was of Max staring into the light of the camera with a hooded expression to his eyes. They seemed a little dull, even in the bright light. James rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This bastard had his friend prisoner and was torturing him. “Now, James. Don’t do anything rash.” Said the voice again. “Take a sip of water and calm down. I’ll give you some instructions after this is all over and we’ll try and resolve this situation.” “Now.” Said the stranger. “Where were we? Oh yes. Take the gag off. He shouldn’t be much trouble now.” “Max,MAX…Can you hear me ?” “Huh ?...” said the slurred voice of his friend. “Look at me Max. That’s good. You’re a good boy well done.” “Good booooy…” said his friends voice. It sounded deep and slow. Probably a result of the drug the bastards had given him thought James as he listened horrified and dreaded the next picture. The dark man’s voice continued to talk to Max. “Now Max, in a moment we’ll untie you from the chair and you will continue to sit there. Calm and still, calm and still. Do you understand?” “aarrrm and stiiilll…” came the reply as a new pic appeared. This was of Max. He had been untied and was sat in the chair and was looking up into the camera lens. James saw a little drool dribbling from his bottom lip. “That’s good Max, very good. Now these two men are your friends and you want to help your friends don’t you ?” “Aha..friends.” Max’s voice sounded thick and heavy, almost childish. “Stand up Max and let them help you undress. You’ll be far more comfortable like that trust me.” Max had obviously obeyed as the next picture came up. This time he was just standing there in the room, which did seem like a prison cell. He was stood there naked. The blank expression on his face, the drool and what seemed to be a raging hard on. “Well now, someone’s happy to see his two friends isn’t he?” said the monster on the phone. “They’re happy to see you too. Can you see how happy they are Max ?” he said. James could feel the smirk in the bastards voice. He was enjoying this. James’ mouth was dry. He took another sip of water from the bottle. He didn’t want to continue but had no choice but to listen and watch as his friend was manipulated. “Max, in a moment you will start to feel a little warm and tingly. It’ll feel a bit like when you go to the gym and have a good workout.” “Mmmhhmm.” Said his friend. “You understand ? Good.” Said the man. “You’re going to start to change and I want you to feel and see that it is all normal. This is a good change. You have nothing to fear.” Said the man “Do you understand Max.” he questioned. “No fear.” Said Max’s slow voice. It seemed more sure now but was also somehow deeper than James remembered. “Now I want you to kneel down and show your friends Adam and Rico your appreciation.” Said the man. “You know what to do.” He instructed. “I know…” The next picture flashed up and was off James’ friend of many years. His college buddy was knelt there naked on the floor of this prison cell and had the cocks of the two big muscle men in his mouth. His eyes were wide and staring up at the two men. Slobber and drool from his efforts and the men’s actions were dribbling off his chin. The screen blanked out and there were the sounds of someone giving and being given a blow job. This seemed to go on for a long time and the sounds of passion were punctuated with grunts, the sounds of animal passion. James tried to get the picture out of his head, he didn’t know what to do but couldn’t take his eyes off the screen and couldn’t get the will to switch of the recording either. The sounds of the men’s passions exploding brought James out of his reverie. “Ah…fuck…fuck…fuuuuuck…yeah…Give it to me.” Said Max’s voice. The two mens voices were just grunts. The sound of them cumming, hard was unmistakable. The screen lit up again with Max’s face taking up most of the screen. His sweaty hair was plastered onto his face and his blank eyes stared at the camera in gratitude. On his face was what look like a gallon of cum. It looked like the poor man had been glazed. The screen went dark again. SWITCH OF THE LAPTOP. CONTINIUE TO LISTEN. Instructed the screen. “Do I truly have your attention James ?” Said the creepy man’s smug voice. “Good. If you want to see your friend again and resolve this situation without further, action. Here are your instructions.” James sat in horror and listened to the words. PART 3 “James?” said a faraway voice. “James, are you okay?” It asked. Louder this time. “JAMES!” shouted Diane his assistant. Bringing the lawyer out of his reverie. What had he been….? “Shit” he shouted loudly making Diane’s concerned even more apparent as she touched his shoulder. “Are you okay boss?” She said worriedly, She’d come back to the office after her audition to grab some bits when she saw her boss just staring at the screen on his laptop. Which was weird in itself as the machine had gone into screen saver mode. James seem to be dazed. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. Trying to bring himself out of his daze. “Sorry Di. Dunno what happened to me there.” He apologised to his worried assistant. “Must have dozed off or something.” He said, not sounding entirely convinced by his own excuse. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She said, making sure. “Yeah, yeah. “ He assured her taking a swig from the now warm water bottle on his desk. “I’m fine. Must be tired or maybe coming down with something.” He stood and straightened his tie. Looking at her with his beautiful green eyes. “Look, you head off home. I’m gonna head that way myself. “he said.” Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine.” He grabbed his jacket and popped his laptop into his bag then opened the office door and wave her out. Diane grabbed her coat and bag from her desk. “As long as you’re sure you’re okay. She said heading out the door. “See you Monday.” He said smiling at her concern re-assuring her he was okay. “Monday.” She said and was gone. James lent against the office door for a moment. His head was clearing. He remembered everything that had happened but had been unable to say a word of it to his friend and assistant. What had Bennett done to him ? How much power did the guy have that he could just get him with some pictures and a recorded voice ? The voice on the line had given him some instructions which he felt compelled to obey but they were vague, almost dreamlike in the exact memory of them. He knew he’d remember only when Bennetts voice wanted him to. He knew his first port of call was the gym where he went every day and often worked out with his old friend Max. Max… “Shit Max!” said James and ran out of the door. 25 minutes later he pulled his car up to the lot behind his gym. This wasn’t an exclusive club or true iron gym it was a mid range place you could find in many towns and cities. It was busy enough not to be isolating to the customer and quiet enough that you could usually get on the machines you wanted to. It was about 4.30 and was beginning to fill with the pre-weekend crowd. The gym was called X-WORKS. He tapped his card as he went in and went into the changing rooms and got changed into his gear. Loose light blue vest and dark blue gym shorts just to above the knee and pale green trainers and sports socks. He wasn’t worried about the whole gym fashion thing. He was looking over the gym floor and trying to decide where to start He went to the stretch mats carrying only his gym towel and a bottle of water. He started to warm up on the mat, slowly stretching his long swimmers muscles. He did a good fifteen minutes warm up and then got up ready to go and went to the cycles for some warm up cardio. As he did his eyes scanned the crowd of Friday nighters that were in the gym. After work dads and moms having their one free hour before the weekend with the kids. Older people walking quickly on the treadmills showing they still got. High schoolers trying to show how much they could lift. A whole mix of people including the pre-club workout crowd trying to get a pump before showing off their glistening bodies to anyone who wanted to gape at them. His eye was caught by one guy. Tall, blond type with blue eyes. This guy could have been a surfer if not for the muscle he carried. This guy was stacked. Must’ve weighed 265 if not at least 270 pounds. This was hard earned muscle, this guy was shredded to perfection, striations and veins cut across all of his major muscle groups his chest, shoulders and arms were covered in thick rope-like veins. His forearms were so thick that James realised he’d been staring at the guy. He looked away before the big man noticed. He went back to cycling and tried to concentrate on the tv screen ahead of him and started pedalling faster and faster. He was in the zone about 10 mins later when he heard a voice close to him over the gym’s loud music. “Hey buddy.” The voice said. “Any chance of helping me with a spot?” The deep voice asked James turned his and slowed his pedalling and there, next to him was the big guy he’d spotted earlier. Closer up he was a magnificent specimen of manehood. James wasn’t gay but given his industry he was open and could still appreciate a male form. This guy was hotness personified. “Can I get a spot?” said the guy in a slow measured tone that seemed to be coming from somewhere deep below the ground. It was that type of voice that when heard managed to get most gay guys and straight woment right in the private parts. You know what I mean ? James stopped pedalling and took the guy in with his eyes. “Yeah, sure thing.” He said. The big guy slapped him on the shoulder and James swore it went all the way through him the the floor. “Thanks buddy, the name’s Mack.” Said the behemoth. “Well Mack.” Said James dismounting from the cycle. “It’s good to meet you. “ He said extended his hand to shake, The big guy stood there a moment and looked at James’ hand as if confused and unsure what to do with it. Then it was as if he was receiving instructions from someone else he laughed. “Aha aha aha!” It was loud and forceful and lacking in any real intelligence. A true Jocks laugh. James groaned inwardly but he’d already agreed so followed the big man to a weight bench lined with free weights. “You can jump in too if you like.” Said Mack “You’ve already done your warmups from what I could see.” “Yeah, sure thing . “ said James. What’re we doing?” he asked the big bodybuilder. “Chest.” Said the huge man. Getting his barbell ready with a warmup weight. As he settled on the bench and set it flat he lay down and looked up at James. “You okay with this weight to start?” “Yup. It’s fine by me.” Said the lawyer. It was a warm-up so he wasn’t worried. The big guy pounded and James pounded out the warmup sets. Slightly increasing the weight each time. James or Mack counting out the others reps and helping at the end as required. Which wasn’t often. James was surprised how much he was enjoying this. He hadn’t worked out with anyone for a while expect with his pal Max…Max…He paused a moment.. Something started to niggle him. “Hey Jimmy you in there?” He felt a light tap on his head as the big guy got up from his last set and pretended to knock on his skull. James came back to himself.”Oh…hi..sorry was miles away.” He said. Where was he again? Oh yeah the gym. “Aha aha aha.” That laugh again. James thought to himself. It was quite appealing rather than annoying. Quite sexy really. He sneaked a glance at the big guy as he turned to alter the weights again. His back was massive. He wore an old school, faded gold, World gym top that had seen a lot of use and what seemed at first glance to be compression shorts. On closer inspection they turned out to be jersey shorts stretched so tight James could see the veins on the man’s thighs and his ass was spectacular. “Good view from back there buddy? “ said Mack. “Oh err..”James would normally be flustered and rather than deny he had just been scoping out the mans ass he said. “Hell yeah.” He blushed and felt awkward in the same way a teenager on their first date feels at kissing time. What was wrong with him? He could feel the small voice in his head saying that this wasn’t him but he also wasn’t really listening. “You’re up Jimmy A bit more weight this time.” Said the beast James meant to tell the guy it was James and not Jimmy but didn’t want to spoil the moment by criticising the guy. He lay on the bench. Mack moved close the head of the bench where James’ head was and lifted the barbell and lowered it to James’ waiting hands. “Don’t forget to breathe Jimmy.” Said Mack smiling as he looked down and stepped closer to the bench and James head. James could just see the guys crotch at the top of his vision and his mouth went dry.” “1-2-3..” counted the big man towering above him. James was enthralled by the play of his own muscles even as he watched the big guy stretch and lift above him. Time seemed to blur. James wasn’t sure whether it had been a minute or an eternity when the set had finished. He felt dizzy for a moment and sat up slowly. “Take it easy buddy.” Said the slow deep voice of his training partner. “Here, take this. You gotta be thirsty.” Said Mack handing him a bottle of unopened water. James looked down to his and realised it was empty. When did he finish…? His chest felt like it was on fire as did his shoulders and arms. He’d only been working chest with this guy hadn’t he ? “Well we’re done for the day.” Said Mack. “Huh…?” said Ji-j-James dully. He was stilled dazed from the workout obviously. “We’ve only just started..” James said. “Dude, we’ve been at it for nearly 3 hours. You said you weren’t into heavy weights as a swimmer or sumthin’ I knew you were a kidder.” Said the behemoth who was now pumped to the Max… Max…Macks.. MAX! For a moment Jimmy looked at the big monster of a man in front of him and thought he knew him from somewhere else. “Max?” He question dully as they walked to the changing room. The big guy turned around and smiled at him. Big, toothy vacuous grin. “I was.” Said Mack. The room was empty apart from the two of them. Mack was ripped and now pumped. He looked like a god stood there in the white light of the changing room. “Until you sent me to meet Saul Bennett.” Said the big, muscular beast of a man. He took off the vest. As he did so all the muscle in his arms and shoulders bunched and flexed and he struggled for a moment to take the shirt off over his huge wing like lats. He laughed at that. That laugh again. For some reason the laugh made James/ Jimmy hard. He felt it in his groin the moment he heard that sound. He could feel his cock begin to stiffen in his shorts…? He looked down and realised he was wearing different clothes from when he’d entered the gym. His gym shorts were now tight under armour compression shorts and his t-shirt had gone replaced by a cut off tank. He couldn’t make out the logo or words on the bright red cutoff for some reason. On his feet were a pair of Nike hi-tops. Bright red to match the shirt. He didn’t notice this difference as he was to enthralled by the man in front of him who had just fished out the biggest cock Ja---Jimmy had ever seen. As he knelt in front of the big man with his mouth salivating he noticed a mirror to the side that showed the both of them. The big muscular man towering above him, Vast shoulder and lats, shoulders more like a range of mountains that held the must unfeasible set of arms Jimmy had ever seen. Massive ledgelike pecks and a thick waist with a slight roid belly look that supported all above. The legs, thigh and calves looked like they’d been hewn rather than grown. Topped off that all over the beautiful tanned body were veins that seemed to show every contour and contrast. Then there was the cock. Mack’s cock was a beast to behold. Thick, almost two hander to hold, about 11 inches long. Mack had pulled back the foreskin and the thick, bloated, purple head of the monster was already leaking with precious juices. Jimmy caught sight of himself. Kneeling there in front of his god, salivating. In his gym gear and wearing a red baseball cap backwards on his head. His blank blue eyes staring at the mirror. Drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. His muscles were ridiculous. These were not the beautiful muscle of a cut body builder. Jimmy had the muscle of a laborious beast. He was more massive than the man above him. Crouched as he was he looked more Neanderthal than man. His dark eyes looked dim and his hair was shaggy where it peaked under the cap. His brow was thicker somehow and his eyebrow seemed to almost meet in the middle. His neck was so thick that it and his monstrous traps almost seemed to devour his skull. They were so high at the back. His shoulders and arms were almost grotesque in their massiveness. Veins didn’t just cross his arms they ravaged them. His chest was beyond human and dusted with dark hair. They were almost pendulous in the way they hung there. The big brown nipples pointing to the ground because the pecks were so huge. He couldn’t really see what his legs were like because he was kneeling but could feel the size and thickness of them. It was like they were made from steel. He turned back to the man in front of him and had only one thought in his mind. “JAMES!” said the voice. “JAMES ARE YOU OKAY.” It said again. “FOR FUCKS SAKE JAMES. WAKE UP!” it said again. Jimmy no James looked up. “Diane?” He said confused…. Part 4 James shook his head as his vison cleared. “Phheww!” he sighed and shook his head again. “Are you okay,” said Diane as she leaned over him, still sat in his desk chair. He was at the office. But he’d just been at the gym hadn’t he? His thoughts were so muddled it was taking him a while just to get his mouth working again.” “I’m fine Di.” He said. Reassuring her in a way that he himself didn’t feel. The attractive brunette got a bottle of water from the fridge in the outer office and ran a cloth under the tap in the kitchenette. “Here.” She said in a matronly fashion as she handed him the water and put the cool, damp cloth on his neck where it sat on his hot skin soothingly. “I…I must’ve nodded off.” He said look up at her blearily. His head felt thick, muddy and unclear. He just couldn’t focus properly. “Do you want me to call the doctor?” She asked worried about her friend and boss. “No, no…I’ll be alright. I must be coming down with something.” He said. He did feel sore come to think of it. All over. It was a deep ache, almost gnawing ache. Like hunger but different, darker. He couldn’t think of the words to describe it. “You sure?” she said. “I can cancel my plans and take you home, it’s no biggie. Or I can call your wife to come get you?” “No, it’s fine Di. I’m fine. Feeling much better now.” He said and it was true. AS his senses returned to him he was feeling better, energised in fact. He stood up and removed the towel from his neck handing it back to her. “Thanks.” He said as he started to gather his stuff and pack his bag. Again. Or at least that’s what it felt like, déjà vu. “You go and get on with your weekend.” He said as he all but shooed the woman out of the door smiling at her. “I’ll be fine.” He told her again. “As long as you’re sure. “ She said. She stopped at the door and turned around and put a light hand on his cheek. “You work too hard boss, please take it easy this weekend.” Then she was off out the door and shouted as she went down the corridor. “Call me if you need anything.” And the she was gone. James sat back in the chair heavily for a moment. He could still remember the gym. He could remember everything that happened in vivid detail. He remember Mack and his beautiful face and godlike body looming over him. He could remember how his gym gear pressed up against the thick, thight muscle of his hard steellike body. Veins running over the muscle just under the skin. Thick, rope like and full of pulsing life. Just like Mack’s cock. Oh god the cock. James leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. His breathing started to catch as he remembered the beast between Mack’s legs. Thick and shining. Two hands to hold and dripping with pre-cum. The smell was beyond anything. It was like smelling joy to him. James wanted to run his tongue up and down the monster, he had to. He had to find Mack again. He opened his eyes and realised he was still in the office and he’d just closed his eyes for a second. That was enough for him to re-live that memory and then ejaculate. He’d cum in his trouser. Like a teenager,he thought, now horrified. What the hell was wrong with him ? He’d just had a fantasy about one of his work collegues. No, wait Mack wasn’t a colleguege. Max was. Where was Max ? God he was so confused. He needed to go home and rest. He gathered his gear together, realising his gym bag was still there. He grabbed his laptop and stuffed it on top of the used and sweaty top and shorts. He hadn’t actually been to the gym. Had he? Not trusting himself to drive he went down the stairs after closing the office and hailed a cab. He got in and gave the driver his address and heard a beep from his Wife. Apparently her sister had gone into labour early so she was heading off to the airport so she could be with her family and support her sister. He called her and wish her luck and told her to send his love to his sister in law. He also told he was feeling under the weather so it was just as well that she went as he would be no fun. She gave him her love and told him where he could get some good chicken soup near their home. He smiled and told her he loved her.He put the phone back in his pocket and lay back on the seat of the cab. He closed his eyes for a second just to still his senses. In his mind’s eye all he could see were the massive tree trunk legs of Mack and that monster cock with it’s pendulous balls. “Hey Buddy!” said the driver’s voice. “Whha..” said James opening his eyes and looked around realising he was home. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He apologised as he got out of the cab, he still felt sore and disorientated as he gave the driver the fare telling him to keep the change. He wasn’t sure but he thought he heard the guy say “dumbass” as the cab pulled away at speed. He walked up to the house. There was a light burning in the front room and he heard music playing. His wife had probably left them on so he didn’t feel so lonely coming home to an empty house. They did things like that. He smiled at the kind thought. He opened the door and dumped his bag on the floor just by the coat rack. There was a light classical music playing and room was lit by warm, mellow lights from the various lamps around it. The person standing in the room wasn’t his wife. It was Saul Bennett. He was holding a glass half full of what appeared to be James’ own 25 year scotch. As he walked into the room Bennett raised the glass in a salute and took a sip. “What the hell?” Said James. “Not bad.” Said Bennett savouring the flavour of the alcohol and totally ignoring James indignation. “What are you doing in my house Bennett.” Shouted James. “Get out now before I call the police.” He said angrily. “Now, now James. Don’t lose your pretty head.” Said the monster with a smile. “I just wanted to take a few moments of your time to have a little chat, then I’ll be gone.” James crossed his arms and walked over to the bottle of his whisky and poured himself a good measure. He took a swig. “Then, talk.” He said glaring at the man who had invaded his home. Bennett took another swig of his drink and smiled in much the same way as a crocodile would smile at a fox who’d just ask for a lift across the swamp on it’s back. “Okay then.Talk.” He demanded turning to keep the stare of this man with a confidence he really didn’t feel. “Okay, then.” Said Bennett. “We have a problem.” He said. That smile again. “You are looking into things that really don’t concern you and I’d like you to stop.” Said the businessman. “If you do then I will pay you a fee, call it compensation for having to quit Manny’s case.” Offered Bennett. “No deal.” Said James immediately. “Don’t be so hasty James.” Said Bennett sipping his drink again. “There will be a price to pay if you chose not to take this offer.” He said looking over at the lawyer with something akin to pity. James next instinct was to curl his hands into fist with the intention of punching the sanctimonious pricks teeth down his throat. Fisted clenched at his sides in anger he took two steps forward towards the asshole. “STOP!” The words rang out, not just in his ears but inside his head. It was like a chorus of voices said it at once to him and he could only obey. There was no question of any other type of behaviour. So, he stood there. In silence while this man / monster just looked at him, looked at him as if weighing up what to do with a naughty puppy who has mess the kitchen up while his master’s been at work. “One word James, that’s all that was needed there.” Said Bennett. “That’s just pre-conditioning. You’re in a highly suggestible state right now.” “You have been for some time.” He said. Pretty much since before lunch time when you ask Diane for a bottle of water. James’ eyes widened as he thought back. Then’ he looked to the whisky bottle in alarm. “Yes, that too.” Bennett confirmed. “I have a certain flair with the dramatic don’t you think?” he asked his audience of one. “I’ve actually had my eyes on you for a while.” He sneered at James “You’ve been of little hindrance until recently, until Manny. “He said. “I really don’t like people snooping into my affairs. There tends to be consequences for that.” “Oh, you may speak, don’t strain a blood vessel.” Bennett gave his permission to James. “You fucking freak, how are you doing this ?What have you done with my wife and Diane ?” he shouted. “Do not, above all things, raise your voice to me James.” Said Bennett, dangerously quietly. “I cannot abide rudeness”. He said. “The ladies are fine and will remain that way. If you hear me out. I have some business to discuss with you first.” “Talk, then.” Demanded James still trying to move. “What did I say about rudeness Jim?” asked Bennett “kneel!” demanded the dark, smooth velvet of Bennetts voice. James Obeyed. Without a fight. He had no choice. He had to. Worse, he wanted to. It was a primordial urge, one that he could not even think of fighting. He knelt in front of his captor, head bowed in supplication almost. “What do you want from me?” He said, so quietly it was just a whisper. “That’s easy Jim, Jimmy even.” Said the face that loomed above him. “I want you.” Bennett confirmed what James / Jimmy already knew “As I said we do have business to discuss.” Bennett pressed some button on his phone. “Yes, you may come in now.” James heard the front door opening and senses a large presence behind him. “I believe you’ve met Mack ?” said Saul Bennett. The figure that came in the door and into the light of the living room was huge. It was Jimmy’s friend Max, although not the Max he remembered, apart from in his Laptop fantasy (That cock). This was Max 5.0 This was Mack the monster. Every bit as shredded and packed with muscle as he pictured him from his fevered dream back in the office. “Max ?” he said, not quite believing what he was seeing. The behemoth was dressed in gym gear. A raggedy Golds gym top in faded blue. Straps stretched so thin over the monstrous traps, shoulders and pecks that it just seemed unfeasible a person would be able to move if at all with all that bulk. The pecks themselves were so large that the thick nipples pointed down to the floor because of the sheer mass of the slabs of beef they were attached too. All of this bulk seemed to cinch itself inwards with the shape of the monstrous lats at the back and the ridiculous arms, that Jimmy was sure wouldn’t serve any practical purpose other than to lift weight. Biceps, thick hanging triceps and forearms that were from the fevered dreams of the most dedicated muscle fetishists. All of this growth and mass was on top of a pair of legs, that were themselves encased in white full leg compression leggings. The legs so powerful and filled with strength Jimmy could see the veins almost pulsing under the tight white fabric. The monsters’ huge feet encased in a pair of white Hi-top adidas trainers. Right at Jimmy’s eye levels was a bulge that was doing very little to hide itself. “Jimmy” said a voice that Jim heard as if it was drawn from the bottom of a well. Although he was sure he felt it start in his balls. It was that deep and that hot. Jimmy looked up in to the face of the beast and it was Max, not the nice gentle man he had known for years. This was a creature of stone, hewn, rather than grown. His brow was markedly thicker. His beautiful blue eyes were still intense and held an almost blank animal cunning a lust even. The thick black hair on his head was tousled and rough and longer than he remembered. Mack put a rough calloused hand on Jimmy’s shoulder briefly and he nearly shot his load where he knelt. “What the fuck?” He breathed. Realising that it wasn’t a question it was more a statement of awe. “Well” said the ringmaster, still holding the remains of his whisky glass. “To business.” He sat on the arm of the chair and leaned forward to Jimmy in a friendly manner. “You have a choice here Jimmy.” He offered. “You can walk out of here now, tomorrow you will pack up your business and within a month you and your lovely wife will have a new set up in a part of the country you choose. You will forget about any of this and all will be well.” Jimmy couldn’t keep his eyes off the man beast in front of him. He was that close he could feel the heat radiating from him. “Or?” Jimmy asked weakly. “Or….” Said Bennett drawing out the word. “Or, you will end up working for me as part of my stable. A new and exciting partner for Mack here. Our latest attractions if you will while I’m waiting for another to arrive from another part of the country.” “Fuck you.” Spat Jimmy (no James) suddenly finding the strength from somewhere to resist the devil in a suit before him. He tried to stand and almost did before a ton of stone seemed to crash onto his shoulders in the form of Mack’s monstrous hands. James turned to Bennett and spat at him, caught him clean in the left eye. The air seemed to crackle and turn heavy for a moment as if lightening was about to strike. Then it cleared as Saul Bennett started laughing as he grabbed a pocket square and wiped he face. He shook his head as he looked down on his prey. “Well, I must say I didn’t see that one coming. I certainly didn’t think you’d have had the strength to even turn your head.” He smiled and dropped the square on the coffee table. “So you’ve made your choice then ? No Job? Can’t see us working well together ?” He taunted “Oh well, I did try. I gave you a choice, an out if you will.” Said Bennett. “Mack, he’s all yours.” Said Bennett as he got up and brushed himself down. He headed to the door. “James it’s been interesting. Jimmy, I will be seeing you very soon.” Then he was gone. James felt the strong hands of Mack again. His attention was again drawn to the huge bulge in front of him. Mack put his hands into the front of the leggings and brought out the monstrous cock that was oh so vivid in Jimmy’s mind (JAMES not Jimmy please…) James could smell the odour of sweat and pheromones. Male sweat was emanation from the beast in Mack’s hands. He caught the smell of cock and he knew that he had started to drool. He couldn’t help himself. He dove on the cock, now released from the hold that Bennett had placed on him. He was now entranced by another master. He gave himself to it completely, he couldn’t help it. He took the beast in his mouth as if born to it. Mack put both his thick muscular hands on either side of Jimmy’s head (Definitely Jimmy now) and wouldn’t let him pull away. He could feel the thick piece of meat grow in his mouth but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if it choked him he felt he would die happy. Jimmy worked his mouth up and down the huge member, slathered it in his own spit and worked it with both of his hands. Mack started to fuck his face, groaning slightly, in and out. In and out. Slowly at first. Jimmy was moaning in lust. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t get enough of it. In and out. In and out. The huge man started to build up speed and his breath started to come in more urgent, ragged breaths. For about 15 minutes they were like this. Jimmy working the monstrous tool while the big bodybuilder alternated between slow and deep and out and out face fucking. Deep throating almost every stroke. Jimmy took it all and loved it. What Jimmy didn’t notice was that during this process he appeared to be wearing the gym gear that had been in his bag earlier. It still smelled of the gym. His body had started to slowly grow and change too. Mack reached behind himself as he was getting towards his final strokes and took a bright red snapback out of nowhere and placed if on Jimmy’s head. Jimmy had started to wank his own splendid cock now, but was really still riveted on the one that was still invading his face. All thoughts of his wife, Diane, Max and even Saul Bennett were about to be washed away. Mack drew himself up to his full height as he knew he was close. His think veined muscle seemed to jostle on his massive frame as he started to tremble. He clenched all of his power into a huge pose. Most muscular for the gods and with a roar he shot his wad into the mouth of the waiting cock slut beneath him. It felt like hours as he continued to pump the man’s mouth until he’d been sucked dry by the dumbass jock on his knees in front of him. Jimmy looked up at his lover with nothing less than vacuous wonder. He drew his hand across his mouth and wiped away some of the drool. He felt clear if not empty headed. His own thoughts now were limited to the needs of the beast in front of him and his master Saul Bennett. Part V The lady sat under a large sun umbrella and sipped at a cup of tea that had been served in a delicate powder blue china cup and saucer. It had the delicate bergamot perfume of Earl Grey and was served, quite properly with a slice of lemon. She was dressed in pale blue herself. Knitted pale blue suit and hat to match. She had a small set of pinz nez on a silver chain around her neck and would occasionally lift them to her eyes and gaze at the world or the people around her. Not that she needed them when she looked at you it pretty much felt like she already knew everything about you and what you were going to say. Her amethyst eyes were laser-like in their luminosity. She sat very properly, as ladies should, with her knees close together and her feet crossed at the ankles. I asked her about the incident with James Fraser and Maxwell Calder. She took a slow, delicate sip of her tea and looked into me for a moment. Then she dabbed her lips gently with her napkin and set it and her cup on the table beside her. When she spoke it was the voice of everyone’s Grandma. Gentle, warm and easy. It had a southern drawl to it that said this lady was a Georgia woman somewhere down the line. “Well, my dear you found me to talk to me about it. I wass wondering when we would get to it.” She said. “How did you first get involved? I didn’t think this would be something you would have got involved in.” I asked. “Okay, this was unusual.” She said. “ I have a lot of friends and contacts around the world. Especially in my field I am a very valued expert. I have a magic touch if you will.” “Usually I rely on wish fulfilment or revenge events but every now and then someone will call me and ask for specific help. If it, or they are worthy I help. On this occasion they really needed my help. “ She took another sip of her tea. “A week or so ago I had a call from a friend of mine called James, he works in L.A. (A cesspool of scum and iniquity but in the end money is money to some.) He had come across a situation that wasn’t really in his purview and asked for my help. “We’d worked together previously, and I’d taught him the basics in how to recognise manipulation, alchemy and magic. “She said and look at me intensely. “Anyway, the call went like this… Oh and yes dear I did say magic… “It does exist as you will find out if you bother to read all of the story rather than trying to skip through to the horny bits that you always do (Yes dear. You. )” she seemed to say to no-one in particular.” “I taped the call.” she said as she drew out a small recording device and placed it on the table. She looked at it testily when it wouldn’t start and then just glared at it for a second. I swear I think the thing started out of embarrassment… Anyway. The call went like this : Ms D “Hello James.” James: “Ms D.Good to speak to you.” Ms D “Why James it has been a while. It could be said that you have been remiss in your attentions.” James “Aww Ms D. You know you truly are the only woman for me.” Said James Ms D “What can this old southern gal do for a big city lawyer like yourself?” James “I think I have one of those problems that only you can deal with.” Ms D “Intriguing, it has been a while since we crossed paths and I know that I taught you well enough to recognise meddling when it’s around.” James “That’s why I called. I think there’s someone who is definitely at it here in L.A.” He pauses for a moment on the phone. James “It’s a bit out of my league and to be honest I’m a little worried about it. It might be good to have a little back-up.” Ms D “I sense that there’s something more about this one James. What’s the issue my dear?” James “This guy changes people. Actually transforms them. I know it’s possible to hypnotise and entrance people but this ? It’s high level and way out of my experience. I’m worried. Max Calder is going in tomorrow and I want to make sure he’s protected. Look I know you’re busy but if you can help in any way…” Ms D “I’ll help dear boy, of course I will. What’s the name of the reprobate we’re dealing with so I can have a little look see?” James “His name is Saul Bennett.” Ms D “Saul B.E.N.N.E.T.T ?” James “Yup that’s him. He’s a big time porn producer with a rep for really owning his guys and girls if you know what I mean?” Ms D “I do indded, go on.” James “Well I have heard stories over the last 6 months or so about guys either disappearing or changing enough that their own families and friends hardly recognise them. It’s scary. I’ve met one of the guys whose partner has changed. It’s scary.” Ms D Pauses a moment Ms D “I can only imagine what the poor souls are going through. James, does this man have two different coloured eyes ?” James “Why yes, he does. How’d you know?” Ms D “Years of experience and a quick search of my database while we were chatting. I may be an old maid dear but I’m far from decrepit yet.” James (Laughing) “No-one who’s ever met you would call you that dear, lady.” Ms D “I’ve got a couple of good likenesses here now, give me a few hours and then call me back. Also contact Max and tell him to call me before he goes in to. Tell him not to make any contact there unless he’s spoken to me first.” James “I will, thanks for this. I really do appreciate it. I’ll have to pay you back one day.” Ms D (Gentle laughter) “You can do so by visiting a little more than you have and maybe taking an old lady out to dinner.” James “You’ll outlive me I’m certain of that. Dinner’s a date. Speak to you soon.” Ms D “You shall indeed. Be safe James. This person is dangerous I can sense it. This isn’t a stage magician you’re dealing with. Bye for now.” The Line goes dead The Lady picks up her device and pops it back into her bag and closes it with a snap. She takes a final sip of her tea and looks at me over the rim of the cup. She finishes it and pops it back on it’s saucer and on the table. “Well?” she asks “Did that answer all of your questions?” I pause for a minute to gather my thoughts and then soldier on under this woman’s intense stare. “To be honest for each one it answer I think I have about 20 more.” I admit honestly. I cannot be anything but honest in this lady’s presence. It would feel wrong. I look at her as she sits primly and properly in her wicker chair and cannot understand for the life of me where she seems to get this aura of calm, authority from. It’s as if someone took every grandmotherly emotion and condensed it into some sort of protective cloak about her. I know that I would do anything for her. It’s that sort of feeling. “Why, what a lovely compliment young man.” She says brightly and fans herself with her hand. “I find myself quite, quite flattered.” She smiles. “I-I, err.. “ I stammer slightly. “How did I know? “ she asked smiling still. “Come on dear boy.” She chided gently “You heard the recording and you’ve seen the two boys.” She said. “It’s true?” I asked already knowing the answer I had already, in truth known all along. “All of it, every word.” She affirmed. “Wow.” I said. “The big question here Michael my dear.” She said pausing and leaning forward out of her chair and lightly gripping my chin so she raises my eyes to her blue lasers. “Is what are we going to do about Saul Bennett?”
  11. alephamok

    Frat House in the Woods

    FRAT HOUSE IN THE WOODS: SAM It was the usual dossier. Ordinary intelligence agencies would have considered it bizarrely incomplete, except in certain areas, but the Adjustment Institute was only an intelligence agency in a very specialized sense of the word. Their assessment of their five targets was impressively complete—in the areas it cared about.Lawrence skimmed over it one last time. The old-school dossiers fed you a bunch of raw data about penis length (flaccid and erect), girth, erogenous zone sensitivity, and other bits of extremely technical information. It was an impressive display of just how much raw sexual statistics the Institute could acquire without alerting anyone, but it was a huge amount of effort for something mostly useless. Lawrence had gotten this promotion by figuring out a very clever shortcut for finding the important information. Lawrence couldn’t help but smile a little. Clearly, whoever had written the dossiers had some opinions on how this adjustment should go. Of course, given the writers’ first-class knowledge of the subject, there were certainly worse plans. Yes, Sam Houston would be the first sacrifice on the board. He flicked a finger and beckoned the high-tech viewing glass towards him, and called up a live view of the opening minutes of the ritual: * * * * * The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. The five young men reached their destination without incident and piled out to look at their home for the next few days. “It’s bigger than I was expecting,” said Nathan. “Apparently it was going to be a frat house, as part of a Greek village that failed,” said Sam. “That is… an amazingly terrible place to build a Greek village.” Sam shrugged. “I did say it failed. Anyway, the rental was very cheap. And there’s absolutely nothing to do here except finish our article. Is everybody ready to buckle down?” * * * * * And they did. Lawrence fast-forwarded through the entire weekend, which was nothing but five men working steadily on an article for the university’s quarterly magazine. This would never please the Great Ones. Lawrence rewound time back to the beginning of the weekend on the glass and went looking through his tools. He selected an option titled BREAKDOWN. * * * * * The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. But there was a hitch, and something on the road tore a hole in one of the tires, forcing four young men to wait while the fifth, the only one who knew about cars, jacked up the car and attached the replacement tire. “Well, at least we’re here,” said Nathan, when they finally were. “Wow, that’s… a big place.” “Man, I don’t even care,” said Sam, who was dirty, sweaty, and disgruntled. (Lawrence had assisted in this with a few presses of his DIRT and SWEAT buttons.) “I just want a shower.” They trooped in, four of them looking for a workspace and one of them looking for the bathroom. * * * * * “Much better,” said Lawrence, moving the glass to follow Sam only. “And now that I’ve got you alone, Mr. Houston, you’re going to need a few adjustments.” * * * * * Sam found the master bathroom and went looking through his shaving kit for shampoo. Lawrence deleted the shampoo. (Protocol dictated that he should have deleted it as soon as he decided on his approach, but doing it on the fly was much cooler. If you did this job without style, you were missing the point.) Sam, finding no shampoo of his own, went to see if there was any left in the shower. Lawrence paused the weekend and put some there. This took a few minutes as Lawrence went looking deep into his menus for some of the specialized options. There was shampoo, and conditioner, so Sam took his clothes off (SCREENSHOT, pressed Lawrence) and got in. Finally, he could get all that dirt off. He wondered if he could call someone to bring a proper tire, or if he’d have to drive the car out to be repaired on Monday. Meanwhile, he lathered the house-brand shampoo into his hair. * * * * * Lawrence opened a status window off to one side to monitor the progress of the adjustment. It showed Samuel Houston’s naked body full-on, along with a few important statistics like height, weight, arousal level, and, of course, IQ. The IQ bar read 120. Then, it dropped to 119. “Oooo-gah,” said Sam, like a moaning bull, without really noticing he was doing it. The arousal bar, and his cock, began to rise as the chemical cocktail in the shampoo did its work. The shampoo, as altered by Lawrence, had effects that were both complex and very simple. The chemicals immediately went to work on Sam’s powerful brain and began sealing shut neural pathways having to do with higher rationality, complex reasoning, and the superego. It was a very intricate process just to achieve the simple result of turning Sam stupid. About three minutes after getting into the shower, the IQ bar read 87. Sam didn’t notice himself getting dumber, partly because the parts of his brain that could make that kind of observation were turning into goo, but mostly because the secondary effect of the chemicals was to make him much hornier. Since Sam was already quite horny naturally, this served to focus his attention completely on the arousal bar between his legs. By the time he turned his thoughts back to thinking, he’d have no thoughts left to think about. “That’s a… blue-steel boner I’ve got,” he muttered to himself, soaping his hand up to pump it more easily. God, the hot water and his hot cock felt amazing. He could feel his cock inside his head as he stroked it, as if he were building a model dick in his imagination and watching it fill more and more of the available space with pure pleasure. “I feel… feel… fuuuuckkk…” What Sam felt was, indeed, fuck. As the heavy dose of pharmaceuticals completed its mission, he came, and a tidal wave of an orgasm washed across his mind and drowned it. He moaned loudly, exactly like a stupid, horny bull, and his fuckstick (which was now also his only working brain) fired ropes of cum across the shower, then continued throbbing in ecstasy for a full minute after his balls were empty. Slowly, slowly, the golden ocean of pleasure receded from his brain. When it had gone, there was not much left. Where there had once been a shining citadel of knowledge, bedecked with hopes, dreams, and a few naked selfies, there was now nothing but a giant dick-shaped skyscraper, permanently erect. Sam’s ejaculate, and most of his doctorate, went down the drain. He did not miss them. “Uh!” he said, still drunk with bliss. “Guh!” That sort of expressed how he felt, but even with his drastically-lowered intellectual capacity, he thought that his world-record orgasm deserved better. The former English major struggled with his words as though he was herding kittens, but finally came up with: “Man. Perfect man. I am the perfect man.” And that, he felt, pretty much summed it up. * * * * * “Damn right you are,” said Lawrence, admiring his handiwork. Sam’s glazed eyes, heavy torso, and his swollen cock all spoke to a magnificent thickness that was the Institute’s one and only product. “Adjustment complete.” He paused the flow of time, removed his clothing, and knelt down in front of the glass to pray. As he spoke, the image slowly stretched out into full-screen mode until it covered the space from floor to ceiling like a stained-glass window. He stroked his own cock and called out to his gods: “Oh, Great Ones, I offer unto you this, the first sacrifice of many! This man’s body was as solid as a rock, and his lust was mighty, but his mind was displeasing unto you, for it was powerful and full of thoughts. I offer that mind to you in sacrifice, that you may see him as he is now, a dumb-ass horny jock, and be appeased!” The giant image of Sam, which looked more like stained-glass than ever, flexed its giant muscles and moaned. “I’m such a fuckin’ dumbass!” it bellowed in a voice that sounded kind of, but not really, like Sam, even the new stupid Sam. “I got a head full of muscles and I fuckin’ love it!” The glass giant jerked itself off, and the Great One’s pleasure poured itself into Lawrence’s own cock, letting him share in the divine orgasm. In theory, this shared pleasure helped to cement obedience in the brains of Institute executives, but the money that was even now flowing into the Institute’s bank account was a powerful incentive as well. Lower-level members were taught that the Great Ones were offered sacrifices of human potential—that the men whose bodies were enhanced and minds numbed became symbolic offerings to the controllers of reality so that the rest of humanity could be spared. Executive members knew the truth—ultimately, the Great Ones wanted to see nerds turned into jocks because they thought it was super hot. As the moment of communion passed and the glass returned to its normal mode, Lawrence stretched. “Now the first sacrifice will be made obedient unto us, that he might bring further offerings unto you. Except, first, I need a shower.” “Or,” he said, “maybe later…” Lawrence went looking into the submenus under BREAK WITH REALITY. * * * * * Sam flexed. God, his body was hot. It was amazing that he ever wore clothes; he could look at himself all day. Actually; he wasn’t looking at himself. He could have admired himself more efficiently if he’d stepped out of the shower and in front of the mirror, but he was no longer good at having ideas like that. Besides, he could picture himself perfectly, and that was what counted, and the hot water felt so good… He was surrounded by warm rain and steam, almost like he was in six showers at once. He opened his eyes and found that he was, and that the shower had expanded into an enormous, circular room with many shower-heads blanketing him from all sides. In between the showerheads were exactly the mirrors he hadn’t realized he needed. “Mm,” he said. He was no longer curious about things, but this was nice. He flexed at himself in the mirror, good and hard. “Fuckin’ sick, bro,” said somebody’s voice. This matched so perfectly with what he was thinking at the time that he didn’t realize he hadn’t spoken. “You’re as ripped as hell. You’re like a god among men. You are a sex machine. Your cock is…” The stream of narcissistic admiration went on and on, and as it continued, Sam, still unable to tell the words apart from his own thoughts (so similar were they) began to repeat the things it said out loud. “Your cock is the key to happiness. My—my cock is the key to happiness.” Overhead, the room lighting began to pulse and fade into many different colors. They fell on the eyes of the many reflected Sams, causing them to change hue over and over as Sam stared into them, mindlessly repeating the thoughts he was given. “I got so horny that my brain bust a nut and now I am stupid. I like being dumb. I have big muscles and a big cock. I don’t care about finishing the paper. Instead I will…” Sam hesitated, as some small remnant of his own personality objected to the commands being transmitted to him. The mirror-Sams, grinning dumbly at him, reached for their cocks. “Uhh! Yeah! Uh! I’ll fuck all my friends this weekend! Yeah! I’ll help make them into muscle morons! I obey—uh!—all commands! Anything you say! Uh! Yes! Yes, master!” Sam came again, and his last traces of resistance were wiped away. Sam smiled. “I will fuck Nathan first,” he said, dreamily. “I will lure him here and bring him into the shower. I will help you to adjust him. Yes.” He blinked, and the shower was again an ordinary shower. He turned it off, found a towel, and dressed himself. “Fuck machine, engage,” he said. He was happy, as men are who have found their one purpose in life and set out to do it. He went in search of Nathan. * * * * * “Nice to have some reliable help,” said Lawrence. Sam, no longer capable of much introspection, was helpless to resist his hypnosis. It had taken only a few minutes to make him willingly, happily obedient, even to the point of betraying his best friends. The Institute could transmit its orders directly into his dick, which now performed the bulk of Sam’s thinking. Now, he would bring the next sacrifice to them himself. Of course, with his superior strength, Sam could easily manhandle Nathan into the shower, rub shampoo into his hair, pump his cock until his brains blew out, and then hold him in place for another round of hypnotism. It would take less than ten minutes to make Nathan into one more zombie just like his friend. But that would never do. The Great Ones had been much pleased with the turn-smart-horny-jock-into-dumb-horny-jock-in-the-shower-with-brain-damage-shampoo-followed-by-shower-jerkoff-with-hypnosis scenario, but they wouldn’t be pleased by a repeat of the same performance, or even a mild variation. The Institute had not achieved its prominence by giving its gods less than constant innovation. The second adjustment would have to be something completely different. This, Lawrence was prepared to provide. He reached to the glass and pulled up his second dossier.
  12. This is the first part of a story I put together on Gay Spiral Stories, which I'm reposting. Here, at least, I can properly use italics. FRAT HOUSE IN THE WOODS: SAM It was the usual dossier. Ordinary intelligence agencies would have considered it bizarrely incomplete, except in certain areas, but the Adjustment Institute was only an intelligence agency in a very specialized sense of the word. Their assessment of their five targets was impressively complete—in the areas it cared about.Lawrence skimmed over it one last time. The old-school dossiers fed you a bunch of raw data about penis length (flaccid and erect), girth, erogenous zone sensitivity, and other bits of extremely technical information. It was an impressive display of just how much raw sexual statistics the Institute could acquire without alerting anyone, but it was a huge amount of effort for something mostly useless. Lawrence had gotten this promotion by figuring out a very clever shortcut for finding the important information. Lawrence couldn’t help but smile a little. Clearly, whoever had written the dossiers had some opinions on how this adjustment should go. Of course, given the writers’ first-class knowledge of the subject, there were certainly worse plans. Yes, Sam Houston would be the first sacrifice on the board. He flicked a finger and beckoned the high-tech viewing glass towards him, and called up a live view of the opening minutes of the ritual: * * * * * The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. The five young men reached their destination without incident and piled out to look at their home for the next few days. “It’s bigger than I was expecting,” said Nathan. “Apparently it was going to be a frat house, as part of a Greek village that failed,” said Sam. “That is… an amazingly terrible place to build a Greek village.” Sam shrugged. “I did say it failed. Anyway, the rental was very cheap. And there’s absolutely nothing to do here except finish our article. Is everybody ready to buckle down?” * * * * * And they did. Lawrence fast-forwarded through the entire weekend, which was nothing but five men working steadily on an article for the university’s quarterly magazine. This would never please the Great Ones. Lawrence rewound time back to the beginning of the weekend on the glass and went looking through his tools. He selected an option titled BREAKDOWN. * * * * * The car crossed the city line, and, shortly afterwards, another and invisible line, as it entered the woods and crossed unknowingly into a different kind of space altogether. But there was a hitch, and something on the road tore a hole in one of the tires, forcing four young men to wait while the fifth, the only one who knew about cars, jacked up the car and attached the replacement tire. “Well, at least we’re here,” said Nathan, when they finally were. “Wow, that’s… a big place.” “Man, I don’t even care,” said Sam, who was dirty, sweaty, and disgruntled. (Lawrence had assisted in this with a few presses of his DIRT and SWEAT buttons.) “I just want a shower.” They trooped in, four of them looking for a workspace and one of them looking for the bathroom. * * * * * “Much better,” said Lawrence, moving the glass to follow Sam only. “And now that I’ve got you alone, Mr. Houston, you’re going to need a few adjustments.” * * * * * Sam found the master bathroom and went looking through his shaving kit for shampoo. Lawrence deleted the shampoo. (Protocol dictated that he should have deleted it as soon as he decided on his approach, but doing it on the fly was much cooler. If you did this job without style, you were missing the point.) Sam, finding no shampoo of his own, went to see if there was any left in the shower. Lawrence paused the weekend and put some there. This took a few minutes as Lawrence went looking deep into his menus for some of the specialized options. There was shampoo, and conditioner, so Sam took his clothes off (SCREENSHOT, pressed Lawrence) and got in. Finally, he could get all that dirt off. He wondered if he could call someone to bring a proper tire, or if he’d have to drive the car out to be repaired on Monday. Meanwhile, he lathered the house-brand shampoo into his hair. * * * * * Lawrence opened a status window off to one side to monitor the progress of the adjustment. It showed Samuel Houston’s naked body full-on, along with a few important statistics like height, weight, arousal level, and, of course, IQ. The IQ bar read 120. Then, it dropped to 119. “Oooo-gah,” said Sam, like a moaning bull, without really noticing he was doing it. The arousal bar, and his cock, began to rise as the chemical cocktail in the shampoo did its work. The shampoo, as altered by Lawrence, had effects that were both complex and very simple. The chemicals immediately went to work on Sam’s powerful brain and began sealing shut neural pathways having to do with higher rationality, complex reasoning, and the superego. It was a very intricate process just to achieve the simple result of turning Sam stupid. About three minutes after getting into the shower, the IQ bar read 87. Sam didn’t notice himself getting dumber, partly because the parts of his brain that could make that kind of observation were turning into goo, but mostly because the secondary effect of the chemicals was to make him much hornier. Since Sam was already quite horny naturally, this served to focus his attention completely on the arousal bar between his legs. By the time he turned his thoughts back to thinking, he’d have no thoughts left to think about. “That’s a… blue-steel boner I’ve got,” he muttered to himself, soaping his hand up to pump it more easily. God, the hot water and his hot cock felt amazing. He could feel his cock inside his head as he stroked it, as if he were building a model dick in his imagination and watching it fill more and more of the available space with pure pleasure. “I feel… feel… fuuuuckkk…” What Sam felt was, indeed, fuck. As the heavy dose of pharmaceuticals completed its mission, he came, and a tidal wave of an orgasm washed across his mind and drowned it. He moaned loudly, exactly like a stupid, horny bull, and his fuckstick (which was now also his only working brain) fired ropes of cum across the shower, then continued throbbing in ecstasy for a full minute after his balls were empty. Slowly, slowly, the golden ocean of pleasure receded from his brain. When it had gone, there was not much left. Where there had once been a shining citadel of knowledge, bedecked with hopes, dreams, and a few naked selfies, there was now nothing but a giant dick-shaped skyscraper, permanently erect. Sam’s ejaculate, and most of his doctorate, went down the drain. He did not miss them. “Uh!” he said, still drunk with bliss. “Guh!” That sort of expressed how he felt, but even with his drastically-lowered intellectual capacity, he thought that his world-record orgasm deserved better. The former English major struggled with his words as though he was herding kittens, but finally came up with: “Man. Perfect man. I am the perfect man.” And that, he felt, pretty much summed it up. * * * * * “Damn right you are,” said Lawrence, admiring his handiwork. Sam’s glazed eyes, heavy torso, and his swollen cock all spoke to a magnificent thickness that was the Institute’s one and only product. “Adjustment complete.” He paused the flow of time, removed his clothing, and knelt down in front of the glass to pray. As he spoke, the image slowly stretched out into full-screen mode until it covered the space from floor to ceiling like a stained-glass window. He stroked his own cock and called out to his gods: “Oh, Great Ones, I offer unto you this, the first sacrifice of many! This man’s body was as solid as a rock, and his lust was mighty, but his mind was displeasing unto you, for it was powerful and full of thoughts. I offer that mind to you in sacrifice, that you may see him as he is now, a dumb-ass horny jock, and be appeased!” The giant image of Sam, which looked more like stained-glass than ever, flexed its giant muscles and moaned. “I’m such a fuckin’ dumbass!” it bellowed in a voice that sounded kind of, but not really, like Sam, even the new stupid Sam. “I got a head full of muscles and I fuckin’ love it!” The glass giant jerked itself off, and the Great One’s pleasure poured itself into Lawrence’s own cock, letting him share in the divine orgasm. In theory, this shared pleasure helped to cement obedience in the brains of Institute executives, but the money that was even now flowing into the Institute’s bank account was a powerful incentive as well. Lower-level members were taught that the Great Ones were offered sacrifices of human potential—that the men whose bodies were enhanced and minds numbed became symbolic offerings to the controllers of reality so that the rest of humanity could be spared. Executive members knew the truth—ultimately, the Great Ones wanted to see nerds turned into jocks because they thought it was super hot. As the moment of communion passed and the glass returned to its normal mode, Lawrence stretched. “Now the first sacrifice will be made obedient unto us, that he might bring further offerings unto you. Except, first, I need a shower.” “Or,” he said, “maybe later…” Lawrence went looking into the submenus under BREAK WITH REALITY. * * * * * Sam flexed. God, his body was hot. It was amazing that he ever wore clothes; he could look at himself all day. Actually; he wasn’t looking at himself. He could have admired himself more efficiently if he’d stepped out of the shower and in front of the mirror, but he was no longer good at having ideas like that. Besides, he could picture himself perfectly, and that was what counted, and the hot water felt so good… He was surrounded by warm rain and steam, almost like he was in six showers at once. He opened his eyes and found that he was, and that the shower had expanded into an enormous, circular room with many shower-heads blanketing him from all sides. In between the showerheads were exactly the mirrors he hadn’t realized he needed. “Mm,” he said. He was no longer curious about things, but this was nice. He flexed at himself in the mirror, good and hard. “Fuckin’ sick, bro,” said somebody’s voice. This matched so perfectly with what he was thinking at the time that he didn’t realize he hadn’t spoken. “You’re as ripped as hell. You’re like a god among men. You are a sex machine. Your cock is…” The stream of narcissistic admiration went on and on, and as it continued, Sam, still unable to tell the words apart from his own thoughts (so similar were they) began to repeat the things it said out loud. “Your cock is the key to happiness. My—my cock is the key to happiness.” Overhead, the room lighting began to pulse and fade into many different colors. They fell on the eyes of the many reflected Sams, causing them to change hue over and over as Sam stared into them, mindlessly repeating the thoughts he was given. “I got so horny that my brain bust a nut and now I am stupid. I like being dumb. I have big muscles and a big cock. I don’t care about finishing the paper. Instead I will…” Sam hesitated, as some small remnant of his own personality objected to the commands being transmitted to him. The mirror-Sams, grinning dumbly at him, reached for their cocks. “Uhh! Yeah! Uh! I’ll fuck all my friends this weekend! Yeah! I’ll help make them into muscle morons! I obey—uh!—all commands! Anything you say! Uh! Yes! Yes, master!” Sam came again, and his last traces of resistance were wiped away. Sam smiled. “I will fuck Nathan first,” he said, dreamily. “I will lure him here and bring him into the shower. I will help you to adjust him. Yes.” He blinked, and the shower was again an ordinary shower. He turned it off, found a towel, and dressed himself. “Fuck machine, engage,” he said. He was happy, as men are who have found their one purpose in life and set out to do it. He went in search of Nathan. * * * * * “Nice to have some reliable help,” said Lawrence. Sam, no longer capable of much introspection, was helpless to resist his hypnosis. It had taken only a few minutes to make him willingly, happily obedient, even to the point of betraying his best friends. The Institute could transmit its orders directly into his dick, which now performed the bulk of Sam’s thinking. Now, he would bring the next sacrifice to them himself. Of course, with his superior strength, Sam could easily manhandle Nathan into the shower, rub shampoo into his hair, pump his cock until his brains blew out, and then hold him in place for another round of hypnotism. It would take less than ten minutes to make Nathan into one more zombie just like his friend. But that would never do. The Great Ones had been much pleased with the turn-smart-horny-jock-into-dumb-horny-jock-in-the-shower-with-brain-damage-shampoo-followed-by-shower-jerkoff-with-hypnosis scenario, but they wouldn’t be pleased by a repeat of the same performance, or even a mild variation. The Institute had not achieved its prominence by giving its gods less than constant innovation. The second adjustment would have to be something completely different. This, Lawrence was prepared to provide. He reached to the glass and pulled up his second dossier.