m/m Transformation Part I: Mutation - Chapter Eight

[Fulano]

First Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1131-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-one/

Previous Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1757-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-seven/

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Carlos crouched on all fours on a bed at the center of an old but otherwise empty warehouse, sweat streaming from his massively muscled body onto a plastic sheet. I stood behind him and repeatedly slammed my 18-inch cock into his ass to the hilt. My orange-sized testicles slapped against his balls and cock with each thrust. The god fucked his biggest slave and found it good.

 

He had been released from the hospital after a miraculous recovery and I spent the last week patiently stretching his hole and training him to take my massive rod, which naturally had grown larger along with the rest of me. Although he lost a lot of blood and passed out several times during the first few days, he was adapting well. His endurance was improving rapidly. This session, as well as my orgasm, had lasted for hours. I had been coming continuously the entire time and the bed was surrounded by a vast pool of sweat and cum.

 

The bed and I were spot lit from above so that I could watch the great length of my immensely fat cock slide in and out of his hole, stretching it out, using it for its only purpose – pleasing me. My largest slave no longer ate or drank, shit or pissed. His only input was my cum, his only output was his sweat and cum. His only purpose was to worship and service me. Nothing else satisfied him.

 

At the head of the bed was a ten-foot mirror so that we could both see the fantastic musculature of my godly seven-foot, 800-pound body as I fucked him. The mirror also allowed me to see his eyes in this position. Other mirrors were positioned to our left and right so that I could watch myself plow him from the side, admiring the incredible vertical thickness of my cock as it slid in and out of his ass, or more accurately, my hole.

 

One advantage to keeping him in this position was that he could not beat his own meat. He was forced to wait until I triggered his orgasm – and for the past hour, the desperate look in his eyes, the pained expression on his face, told me that he needed to come. Although I could fuck him endlessly, I also missed feeling him against me. I decided it was time.

 

“You look ready,” I said.

 

“Please, Master, let me release,” he blurted out between gasps for air.

 

I took my eyes off of him and looked up at my reflection. Immediately my orgasm increased in power and intensity, as it always did when I saw myself. My ever-increasing hyper-masculinity and mass were overwhelming even to me and I felt my cock surge in size, causing my slave to yelp. I continued thrusting, plowing, using his hole as it needed to be used, smiling with satisfaction as he strained to endure my ever-growing cock, and lifted my tremendous arms up into a double biceps pose. I watched his jaw drop in awe.

 

“You may,” I said.

Immediately, his immensely powerful ass clamped down on my throbbing cock and he came, screaming from the power of his orgasm, so intense that it crossed over into pain, even as his eyes remained riveted to my impossibly thick arms and shoulders.

 

The combination of pressure from his sphincter and the flood of cum from my cock forced him forward and he fell flat on the mattress, which left my cum cannon spasming in space, my hips still bucking, firing my jism against the mirror until it shattered and I brought my magnificent tool to my lips to allow it to finish draining in my mouth, my eyes closed in ecstasy, my mind swimming with the limitless pleasure that my world provided.

 

I opened my eyes.

 

I found myself in my apartment, squeezed into my chair with my lips stretched around the head of my cock. Hank was standing in front of me, surrounded by a pool of cum. I released my cock and sat up straight.

 

He looked good. Pumped. I was reminded of his effortless masculinity, supersized and beautiful. He must have just come from the gym. “That was some dream,” he said.

 

I was confused. I looked at him but didn’t speak. It certainly hadn’t felt like a dream.

 

“Hey, I just stopped by to remind you of somethin’.” He squatted down so that our eyes were on the same level.

 

I looked into his eyes. They seemed strange, dark. “What?” I finally said.

 

“Why.”

 

My brow furrowed. “Why what?”

 

“Why,” he repeated. “I’m here to remind you why.”

 

“Hank, what in the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Jamal. You know why,” he said. “Okay, I need you to relax your mind. Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

 

He wasn’t making sense, but this was Hank. I trusted him with my soul. He had to know something that I didn’t, so I looked into his eyes. They were strange. Cloudy.

 

You know.

 

His lips didn’t move, but I could hear him in my head. Clearly.

 

You know that the world is spinning out of control. You know what is wrong. You know what must be done. You know that you are the only one who can do it.

 

His eyes grew darker and larger until they were great, black saucers and still they grew, pulling me in, closer and closer until I could see something inside them, thousands – no, millions of points of light. Soon they encompassed the entire room and I found myself floating in space, surrounded by nothing but the occasional hydrogen atom. There was almost no heat, it was just above absolute zero, but I wasn’t cold. My skin was caressed by the radiation of countless distant stars. I had no desire or need to breathe.

 

What do you want more than all else?

 

To fuck. I just want to fuck.

 

Wrong.

 

I felt myself falling backward and opened my eyes, shocked to find myself still in bed. The light from the window, the noise from the street told me that it was morning and Hank was beside me, stirring. The sensation of falling persisted and I bolted upright. “Sh... sh...” I tried to speak but had no air in my lungs. I inhaled deeply. “SHIT!” I said in an unfamiliar, deep voice.

 

“What the hell?” I heard Hank say.

 

I focused. Hank, I, the bed were all drenched in cum. I felt my ball sack and discovered jumper cables clamped to my testicles. Alligator clips were clamped to my nipples with wires attached as well.

 

“What the fuck?” There was that voice again – deeper, more powerful, but I was certain I was losing my mind. I franticly looked around the room to find something to anchor myself mentally to prove I wasn’t still dreaming. Matt was standing against the wall again, only this time he was naked and erect. Even that was strange.

 

I looked at him. “Am I insane?”

 

“Not unless all three of us are,” he said.

 

Hank was sitting up next to me now. “Did you have the same dream I did?” He said to me.

 

“Wait,” I said. “One thing at a time. What is this shit attached to m...” I looked at Matt, exasperated. My lips were moving again but nothing was coming out. I had no air in my lungs.

 

“Inhale.” I heard Matt say, but what I wanted to do was scream. Every time I felt like I was in control again, I wasn’t.

 

“You stopped breathing last night,” he said. “I couldn’t wake you, but your pulse remained steady.” He shrugged. “I don’t think you need to breath anymore. Except to speak, apparently.”

 

Matt seemed so casual about it, but what I wanted to know now was why he was standing against the wall with an erection. He looked so hot and sexy and I really wanted him next to me. I took a breath. “What are you doing over there anyway?”

 

“I was looking at you and masturbating, okay? You are a god, you know. A fucking off-the-charts gorgeous insanely massive hairy muscle-fuck god,” Matt said. “Remember when I said you were my fantasy man? Well, multiply that by a factor of ... oh ... a billion now. You’re so impossibly beautiful and masculine and magnificent that it hurts to look at you because my brain can’t even process it properly!”

 

I closed my eyes. It was all too much. I tried to clear my mind and focus.

 

“Can I say somethin’?” Hank ventured.

 

“No!” I said. “Let me deal with this.” I paused and opened my eyes again. One thing at a time. “Okay, the jumper cables and clips. Explain. Hank.”

 

“I hooked you up last night after you fell asleep,” he said. “I wanted to make you bigger. It worked.”

 

I tried to sigh but couldn’t. I was out of air again. I had to admit it was very hot – closing a circuit between my balls and pecs – but I rolled my eyes and took a breath. “I appreciate the enthusiasm but let me have what little control I have over what’s happening to me.”

 

“You the boss,” he said.

 

I nodded my head and stood up. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

 

Hank was right. I was bigger. Matt gawked at me and fell to the floor, first landing on his hands and knees. Even as cum spurted out of his cock, he passed out.

 

I immediately turned to Hank, who was staring at me. “Don’t you dare pass out on me,” I said.

 

“Will you at least admit to bein’ a god now?” He asked quietly. Either his eyes were watering or he was crying. I couldn’t tell which. “You’re not human anymore, Jamal.”

 

I ignored his comment for the moment, unable to process it. If I’m not human, what am I? “You mentioned something earlier about a dream,” I said as I walked over to check Matt. He seemed fine and I lifted and put him on the bed.

 

“Yeah, I remember a dream. We were here. You were in your chair and I was standin’ in a lake of your cum. I was tellin’ you... Tellin’ you that you know why you’re here. Why you’re changin’, becomin’ a god.”

 

“We had the exact same dream,” I said, filled with wonder. “We shared a dream.” It was impossible, but just one of many impossible events over the past few days.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “And you told me that – ”

 

“That I didn’t know why,” I interrupted as I squatted down next to Matt. “I know it’s happening and I know everyone is desperate to worship me, but I can’t say why.” I began kissing on him, from his firm, perfectly shaped pecs down to his tight, defined abs.

 

“Yeah you do! We talked about it last night, man.”

 

I looked up at Hank. “What, that I’m supposed to save the world?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Ridiculous,” I said.

 

“Come on, man. If you had one wish, what would it be?”

 

“I’d wish that ... okay. I just want everyone to get along – give each other a fair shake instead of being self-centered assholes. I bet most of our problems would vanish if people would stop believing things with no real evidence and put themselves in their supposed enemy’s shoes.”

 

“YES!” Hank said. “Exactly! You can make people do just that.”

 

“How? Everyone just wants to worship me. How does that save the world?”

 

Hank rolled his eyes. “You ain’t seein’ the big picture here.”

 

“Anyway, I thought Jesus was supposed to save the world.” I said. “That ‘Savior’ stuff and all that?”

 

“That ‘Savior’ stuff is mythological bullshit,” Matt said from my side, startling me. I wondered how long he had been listening. “You know that the nature of Jesus was hotly debated for centuries, right? What we call the New Testament is just the winners compiling the history book. The real Jesus has been dead for two thousand years. There is no God. If there was, everything wouldn’t be so fucked up.”

 

I looked at Matt, surprised at the intensity in his voice. “Don’t Christians say that we brought suffering on ourselves because we disobeyed God?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the excuse they made up early on, but I’m not superstitious so I don’t buy it.” He sat up on the bed but didn’t look at me. “Anyway, that wouldn’t justify the tens of millions of animals that suffer and die year after year as we torture them to death in countless experiments and factory farms.” He jumped up and strode across to the door before spinning around. “What did they do to deserve that? What kind of god would allow that? Tell me.” His face burned red, his breathing was heavy. This was obviously a hot button topic for him.

 

Hank suddenly looked cross. “Hey, are you callin’ me superstitious for believin’ in God?”

 

Matt sighed impatiently. “Well, yeah, I guess I am. Believing in God is believing in the supernatural and believing in the supernatural is believing in superstition.”

 

I looked at Hank, who still appeared upset. “Chill, Hank,” I said. “He’s just saying his two cents. Besides, you already know I’m agnostic.”

 

“Ugh,” Hank said. “You godless liberals disgust me.”

 

I rolled my eyes. Even though I knew he was being sarcastic, he sounded exactly like his uncle.

 

Matt turned to Hank with eyebrow raised. “Don’t make me come over there and kick yo’ superstitious ass, Meathead.”

 

That made Hank laugh. “I’ll snap you like a twig, girly man.”

 

“Well, see if this girly man fucks you again,” Matt said.

 

Hank suddenly appeared very worried and sat up straight, as if to demonstrate that he was now on his best behavior. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he said so rapidly that I started laughing. “What were we talkin’ about again?”

 

“Animal torture,” Matt said.

 

The intensity of Matt’s compassion for the innocent impressed me. For the first time, I felt as if I had met someone who not only understood me, but understood me at a deep and fundamental level. I realized I could fall in love with him so easily. “I’m sorry, Matt. I wish I could do something.”

 

“Don’t wish,” he said. “You can do something. Jamal, who’s going to stop you?” He paused for a moment, staring at me, but not losing focus. “You know, I think Hank is right,” he said finally.

 

“About the saving the world thing?”

 

“Yeah, about that,” he said, nodding.

 

I stood up and walked over to him. “My sweet, sexy boy,” I said. I pulled him to me, forcing him to straddle my cock, which lifted his heels off the floor. He looked up at me, momentarily speechless.

 

“You must be three inches taller than me now,” he said in awe at the same moment my cell phone rang. I put him down and ran over to my nightstand, shaking the floor. I looked at the caller ID: Terry Berman.

 

“Fuck!” I said as I accepted the call. I had forgotten my appointment with him.

 

 

“This is Doctor Berman at Bellevue Hospital Center,” an amazingly deep voice said. I was sitting in the locker room at the gym. It was my second week back after being released and I was wasting no time in trying to regain the thirty pounds I had lost. “May I speak to Jamal Al-Bakri?”

 

“You got him.”

 

“Good evening, Mr. Al-Bakri. My name is Terry Berman. I’m a resident physician at Bellevue. I helped stabilize you when you were brought in.” He paused as if considering his next words. I heard him take a breath. “I’m calling you on my personal phone. I...”

 

The line fell quiet and I wondered if the call had dropped. “Hello?”

 

“Sorry,” the deep voice said. “I have some information that is confidential, but ... I think you deserve to know.”

 

My heart jumped. “About Karen? Where is she? Can I contact her?”

 

“I know the paramedic who brought you in, Mr. Al-Bakri. I’m sorry, Karen Davis had already passed away by the time they found you.”

 

*  *  *

 

 

Although there was really no point in doing so, I decided to keep my appointment with Terry. Now, the biggest problem was how to get me to his office in the Upper East Side. Hank suggested that I walk and let the cards fall where they may – he seemed determined to push me into public view sooner rather than later – but Matt had a better idea.

 

“I’ll rent a van,” he said. “Hank and I will go eat breakfast, pick up the van and drive you to Terry’s. Hank will drop us off, go to Bellevue to check on Carlos and then come back for us.”

 

After they left, I set about cleaning up my cum and washing the sheets. I took a shower, though maneuvering in the bathroom was a bit of a challenge now. I made a point of not looking at my dick or at myself in the mirror. It was extremely tempting, but my penis had actually relaxed and hung flaccid, more or less. I wanted to keep it that way as long as I could. The weight and heft of it as it swung was arousing enough.

 

I sat down at my aging PowerBook for the first time since Sunday morning and looked at my email. Already, much of seemed like it belonged to someone else – friend requests from strangers and casual acquaintances, advertisements of sales, e-blasts from real estate agents I knew of flats and studios on the market. None of it mattered anymore. I realized I hadn’t looked at my snail mail either. That could wait until the weekend.

 

I searched for the video that Mark showed me the day before. He was right, there were many. A dozen people must have had video cameras trained on me. I looked at some of the comments, which was always a mistake. There was something about anonymous commenting that brought out the worst in people, or just showed them as they really were: profoundly ignorant and/or tragically bitter.

 

Hundreds of photographs of me had already been posted on Flickr. The comments here were usually more respectful for some reason. “Morph” was a common and perfectly reasonable comment, but they had no idea. I was probably about 200 pounds heavier now than I was yesterday when those photos were taken.

 

My phone rang. They were downstairs. And for the first time, I walked out of my building wearing nothing, carrying nothing.

 

Next Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2107-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-nine/

[arpeejay]

Are we in NEW territory yet? I sorta lost track of how many chapters you posted on the old site!

 

Looking forward to the next one!

[Fulano]

Not yet! I had posted 14 chapters. A ways to go yet, which is good since I'm only part way through 15 and stuck :-/

[Dodger]

Hope to see this one continued.

[ploder4]

I think I am beginning to see the importance of Hank and Matt.  I wonder if they get some power as some kind of disciples for keeping Jamal grounded and not going fully into the god complex.