m/m The Revenge of Jafar (Final Chapter added 08/29/2020)

[hunklover]

2 hours ago, cregssatx said:

This story is remarkable.  I have no suggestions; I'm happy to enjoy it as it evolves!

Thank you so much; I aim to please.

[hunklover]

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 13 - "Master and Commander"

Marcus stood next to the Volvo he’d ‘borrowed’ from AVIS just a few hours earlier, seething. Since Jake and he had split up, Marcus had been shown around a huge chunk of the base, met almost everyone living here and heard what had brought them to this strange part of Cambridgeshire. He’d shared his story, spoken at length about his relationship with Jake and how the one good thing about Jafar’s rise to power might be that things between the two of them were better than they’d been in months.

Jake had seemingly rewarded his renewed affection by disappearing for hours. So when Jake finally re-emerged laughing and joking with a handsome, blonde companion; Hope’s lead in one hand, his other resting on a shoulder, Marcus’s anger reached a boiling point.

“Where the fuck have you been!?” He yelled.

“Woah!” Jake replied, shocked at Marcus’ outburst. “Calm down, boy.”

“I think I’d better let you two ‘love birds’ sort this out?” Tom chuckled and pressed Hope’s lead into Marcus’ hand. “Later.” He smiled at Jake as he strode away.

“I see you’ve made a new friend.” Marcus replied flippantly.

Jake had to bite his lip, just a few hours of separation and Marcus was already this jealous. Of course, if he knew Jake had spent the time senselessly fucking the boy; creating a lingering sense of submission and devotion within him he’d never be able to shake off… if he knew that, he might have a reason to be quite so angry. “Oh Tom? Tom’s great. You’ll like him. Good kid.”

“I don’t really give a shit about Tom.” Marcus replied through gritted teeth. “You don’t just wander off, it’s rude. Dinner was ready 15 minutes ago, they’re waiting for us.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?!” Jake snapped.

“You don’t! You don’t know anything about this place. BECAUSE you disappeared.” Marcus rapidly replied.

“And what the fuck do you mean, ‘they’re waiting for us’? We all eat together!?” Jake retorted.

“Yes. Like a community.” Marcus bluntly stated.

“Like a cult, you mean.”

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about these people like that. You know nothing about them and I’m beginning to think you know nothing about me.” Marcus barked.

Over the past few minutes, Jake and Jafar’s shared anger had been rising. They were a God, and whilst Marcus might not know it, no-one on earth was going to speak to them this way. “You know what? Fuck this.” They raised their hand, about to snap their fingers and allow their magic to warp the world around them to better suit their needs when they were interrupted.

“Errr boys?” Anderson shouted loudly from the door of the messhouse, “If you two are finished, we’d all like to eat.”

Marc and Jake looked at each other for a moment. Jake lowered his hand, and Marcus raised his brow.

“Be right there!” Jake cheerfully called over. Anderson nodded and went back in, the door closing softly behind him.

“We’ll talk about this later.” Marcus softly, but firmly stated. He turned and began walking towards the building.

Jake and Jafar decided in that moment, that if they’d already been made persona non grata, they were going to do everything they could to make this evening as enjoyable as possible. He could have just made it appear in his hand, but he walked over to the car, raised the tailgate and allowed a crate of 2009 Château Pontet-Canet to form beneath his fingertips. He removed it from the boot and headed towards dinner.

————————————————————

It’s amazing how effective of a social lubricant a decent bottle of wine can be. 24 bottles of ludicrously expensive, extremely rare, flavoursome and delicious wine, however, can turn even the most sombre situation into a far more jovial affair.

As the wine flowed, so did the conversation; the group warming up to the tall, dark, handsome stranger who’d been absent all day. They hung off his every word, listened to his tales and shared theirs without hesitation. As the meal was delivered to the table; it was noted by some how the hearty red had brought out the flavours in the typically dull food. It was as if the evening had been helped along by an unknown force - making it run as smoothly as possible - Jake had even managed to somehow hook up Marcus’ iPod to the P.A. speakers that littered the mess hall, and a collection of 80s music filled the room… the mood was light and jovial, and somehow Jake was at the centre of it all.

As he sat facing Claire, Marcus on one side, Tom on the other, he couldn’t help but be complimentary about how well the place was ran - how clean and efficient they’d managed to keep things. He admired their way of creating a sense of respect and duty.

“Oh, I guess that in some way comes from being a cop.” Anderson, sat next to Claire, happily replied in his thick Texan drawl. “It creates a sense of respect in others. People just tend to do whatever you say they should.” He chuckled.

“Really?” Jake smiled, noticing that Anderson wasn’t making eye contact at him. Instead his half-lidded, booze-soaked pupils seemed to trace Tom’s body, over and over again. Taking in the seemingly new curves and definition in the young man’s arms and chest, the way his shirt seemingly flaunted his physique.

“Oh definitely. I can say ‘jump’, and civvies will say ‘how much?’ “He slurred.

“How much?!” Claire blurted, bursting into laughter. “Code 531 - you’re pissed, Sergeant Anderson!”

The group joined in with Claires giggling. Anderson admiring how Tom’s laughter made his rounded shoulders move up and down. Jake took in the sight, and his mind started racing, a plan was formulating when suddenly his head was grabbed on both sides and turned to face Marcus.

“Freeze!” He sloppily smirked. “You have the right to remain gorgeous.” And he pulled Jake towards him in a wet, messy kiss. The room seemed to find this hilarious and the laughter reignited.

As their kiss ended, Marcus pulled Jake’s ear to his mouth… he nibbled on it for a second, and whispered. “I have no idea where you got that wine… but thank you. This is great.” Then he kissed him on the nose.

The conversation turned to jokes and the group took turns to try to tell the most offensive ones they knew. All except Owen, a blind man in sunglasses at the head of the tabled who hadn’t laughed all evening. He simply sat there eating his food, drinking his wine and keeping himself to himself. A side of Jake felt a shred of pity for the man, but Jafar quickly convinced him that a lack of sight was no excuse for a lack of humour.

As Claire was in the middle of telling a long, rambling joke he felt something brush against his leg. He looked down to see a large, leather boot, rubbing up and down his thigh. His eyes darted back up to Anderson, but Andersons eyes were still locked on Tom as he chewed his lip, as if still hungry. Jake took the initiative and pressed back against the foot with his leg and Anderson’s eyes flared. “Ah!” The pair concluded. “Another new toy.”

————————————————————

It was the early hours when Jake had finally managed to pour Marcus into bed. The rest of the group had disbanded and headed to their own sleeping quarters, and Jake was happy that they didn’t all have to share a bunkhouse. Not because he was planning on sleeping of course. He had other things on his mind.

The rest of the group was thoroughly inebriated thanks to Jake’s generosity, but Jake himself was stone, cold sober. As he finished tucking Marcus into bed he slipped outside and took a deep breath. He’d concluded that Tom’s new twunk body had lit a fire under Anderson that he’d been struggling to contain the entire evening. And it simply wouldn’t be fair for that desire to go unfulfilled; the issue was that Tom had already shifted into his new wolf form - he’d been eager to do so since the party had ended. Jake estimated that he’d be miles away by now, revelling in his new power and strength. So, if Anderson wanted Tom, Jake would simply have to step in.

Fortunately, after what the two of them had been up to earlier, Jake knew Tom’s body. He knew Tom’s body intimately. He looked at his reflection as it rapidly shifted. His hair lightening as his beard fell away, his body losing mass, but maintaining its tone. He looked behind him to admire the rounded bubbled arsecheeks he’d created for the original Tom now stuck behind him. He turned to face his reflection - it was a perfect copy. “Urm, Serge?” He coughed trying again. “Urm, Serge?” and Tom’s voice flowed through from his lips. He smiled to himself and skipped merrily toward’s Anderson’s cabin.. letting the childish energy fill him.

He knocked politely, but firmly. “Just a second.” The loud, deep voice replied from within - they could guess what Anderson was up to on the other side of the door. As Jake and Jafar stood on the doorstep, their body was slowly wrapped in a leather jacket, tracksuit pants and a pair of trainers. Seconds later, the door opened, light spilling out of the entry and into the somewhat darkened sky. “Tom?” Anderson questioned.

“Urm, Serge?” Jake shyly started. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Can I come in?”

Anderson adjusted his dressing gown behind the door, pulling the belt tighter to cover himself. He couldn’t believe his luck - mere seconds earlier, he’d been lying in bed, stroking himself to the mental image of the boy who was now standing at his door. But at this moment, calling him a boy seemed an insult; even through the thick leather of his coat, the bulges of his arms could be seen - had he always been so… buff? It’d been a good 10 seconds since the question had been asked and Anderson suddenly returned to his senses.

“Sure, sure… come in. Something wrong?” He asked. Jake stepped in, sitting himself down on the bed.

“I just couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry. I just…” Jake deliberately trailed off.

“What?”

“I just kept thinking about Jake and Marcus. Together. You know? I guess I felt lonely.” Jake continued, purposefully looking at the floor.

Anderson walked towards Jake and sat beside him. “Aw Kiddo. You know you’re not alone here, right? You’ve got a whole family here.”

“Yeah, with all of you thinking of me as the ‘baby’.” Jake sullenly continued. “But I’m not a baby… would a baby have these?” Jake raised the arm nearest to Anderson, and tensed it: The bicep creating a rounded peak beneath his jacket.

Anderson swallowed. “No. No a baby wouldn’t have those.” He stared at the boy trying to maintain his fatherly composure. “Look ki… look Tom, I don’t think of you as a baby. I know you’re a man.” He stood and walked away from the bed, opening a cupboard and pulling out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. He started to pour as he continued to speak. “It’s just that you’re such a young guy. They look at you, and they don’t think about what you’re capable of, they simply don’t see you the way… I… do…”

Anderson had turned around to face Tom. As he’d been pouring their drinks, Jake had shed his jacket, trainers and pants, he now sat on Serge’s bed clad only in a ruby red leather harness and matching thong. Every inch and curve of his young, toned, milky white flesh was visible. The leather straps criss-crossing over the tight, toned pecs and shoulders, his sizeable bulge covered up like a gift waiting to be unwrapped.

“And how do you see me, Serge?” Jake meekly whispered. His eyes, still glued to the floor, a small smile across his face.

“I think…” Anderson grinned, downing a shot of the whiskey and getting to his knees. He placed a hand on Jake’s face and guided it so the two were looking at each other. “…I think, I see things exactly how you want me to see them.”

“Oh Serge.” Jake purred as the older man’s hands curled around his face. “You don’t know how wrong you are.”

“What are you talking about?” Anderson quizzed, looking into the boy’s face.

“You’re so used to being in control, aren’t you, Sergeant Anderson?” Jake smiled. “Always there in a crisis. Always ready for action.” He ran a hand down to Anderson’s pecs. “Big man on the beat. Big man on campus. Big man everywhere.” His hand slipped lower and groped Anderson’s girthy length. Anderson groaned passionately, not remembering the last time he was touched this way. Jake stood up, Anderson followed. “Sarge likes to be large and in charge, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, it is.” Anderson grinned.

“No. It isn’t.” Jake flatly replied. Anderson’s smile melting away.

“What?”

“You’ve had a lifetime of people listening to what you say and taking it as an order. Tonight, it’s my turn.” Jake said menacingly, his eyes seemingly to gleam in the light.

“I don’t… “ Anderson’s mind felt foggy. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, baby.” Jake wrapped his arms around the bulky older man, he raised his hips and wrapped his legs around Anderson’s waist, Anderson holding onto Jake’s bum to support it. “Let me spell it out for you, Serge. Tonight, I’m going to fuck you, and from that point on, you’ll be mine.”

“Yours?” Anderson questioned, trying to fight the sluggishness of his brain. “I think you’ve got that wrong, kiddo. I fuck, I don’t get fucked.”

“Really?” Jake whispered into his ear. “Then why is your body wrapped around me like you want me to tear you apart?”

The words confused Anderson so deeply, that in his alcoholic stupor, he almost lost his balance. When the room stopped spinning, he looked down. His arms and legs were wrapped around Tom’s athletic frame. Tom’s strong legs supporting the both of them with ease.

“This, this isn’t what I…” Anderson tried to make sense of it. “What are you doing to me?” he moaned.

“What am I doing to you?!” Jake asked incredulously. “I was just lying on my bed and then suddenly there you were at my door, trussed up and ready to go.”

Anderson’s head swam again and he blinked. As his vision cleared, he looked around… the poster on the wall of Post Malone, the cans of Lynx lined up on the desk, the collection of empty beer bottles and old socks littering the floor - there was no doubt, this was Tom’s room.

“I can’t… I don’t…. This isn’t….” The words just weren’t coming to Anderson as his eyes traced the room. He looked down to his body and saw himself practically naked aside from a red leather harness and matching underwear. “UGH!” He grunted, the shock and confusion pooling in his mind.

“Serge…” Jake whispered, sinking a kiss onto the older man’s lips. “…we both know why you came here tonight. You want to be mine. You crave it. You can feel it deep within you. You might deny it, you might try to pretend it isn’t what you want, but it is.”

“It isn’t.” Anderson weakly complained. “Please…” he offered.

“Please what? Serge?” Jake grinned cruelly his eyes shining into Anderson’s.

“I don’t want…” His brain ached. Desire and compulsion swimming against each other in a hideous storm of conflict. “I DON’T WANT….” he tried to fight it; the mental onslaught being pushed into him from Jake’s glowing eyes, but his resistance was crumbling, his lust climbing.
“I don’t want…. to wait a second longer.”

“Master.” Jake sneered.

“I don’t want to wait a second longer, Master.” Anderson complied.

“Well, be good to me and I’ll look after you, my big strong Sergeant.” Jake smiled as he ground his crotch into Andersons, causing a whine of pleasure to leak from the older man’s mouth. “Strip for me.”

Anderson climbed down Tom’s body and returned to his feet. Jake sitting on the side of the bed.
Anderson slowly undid the harness and stepped out of thong. His thick, yet stubby cock hard as a rock. He stood staring towards Jake who simply smiled back. He took a moment to admire the older gentleman’s physique. Admitted, Jake and Jafar had been spoilt in the past few months and had fucked everything from bodybuilders to olympic gymnasts; but the man’s body was well maintained; thick solid muscles with a thin layering of fat - not so much that it was unattractive - it suited the pelt of salt and pepper fur that covered his chest and stomach. Jake took in the view and gestured to his own cock. “Suck it.”

Serge lowered to his knees and parted the robe that Tom/Jake now wore, softly and with great affection he began to lap and suckle on the bulbous head of Jake’s penis.

“Is this what you want, Serge?” Jake mockingly asked. A garbled cry of “Yes!”, obscured by the flesh in his mouth was uttered.

“But is it really what you want, Anderson?” Jake commanded. Once again, the words were indistinct but recognisable.  “Yes Master!”

Jake grunted and forced Andersons mouth away from his cock. With a slick, firm motion he pulled the man’s head towards his own, so they were inches apart - Anderson crouched on his hind quarters.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to back away from this, Serge.” Jake grinned. In that moment, all enchantments placed on Anderson were broken. They were back in his quarters, the red harness still wrapped around Tom’s body, yet Serge was naked, kneeling before him on the floor; Tom on the bed - his thick, long cock exposed to the world. A look of horror, confusion and disgust flashed across Andersons face, followed by arousal, intrigue and pure, carnal lust . “You can stop this right now. Tell me to leave and we’ll never mention it again.” He continued, playing with the buckles of his harness. “So, I ask you one final time. What do you want?”

A sinister grin formed across Anderson’s face, the corruption and devotion had already taken hold of his mind and body. He knelt upon the floor, arse in the air. “Master, I am yours. Fuck me.” He groaned erotically.

“As you wish.” Jake/Jafar/Tom grinned.

————————————————————

Jake closed the door behind him softly as he crept out of Anderson’s room. He’d thoroughly enjoyed plowing the older man into being his submissive little slut. He pondered how often he’d have to fuck the man to keep him satiated; and then remembered that it wasn’t “Jake” who’d fucked Anderson, it was “Tom”. One little chat with the boy tomorrow morning and that problem would be dealt with and he was sure the young lad would love to take the opportunity to turn Serge into his werewolf fuck buddy.

He shed his Tom disguise and quietly headed back towards the bunkhouse he and Marcus had been provided - happy that one of the most powerful men in this little collection was now under his thrall. As he smiled to himself and allowed his brain to begin to scheme the next phase of his dastardly plan, he could only say that he was distracted when he walked directly into the man in front of him.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I guess I didn’t see you there.” Jake offered, politely. He looked to see Owen turn to face him.

The man said nothing, merely stood directly opposite Jake.

“Well… I guess… I’d better be off to bed then…” Jake awkwardly continued as he began to walk away.

“You know. I may not be granted with the gift of vision, Jake.” Owen stated, without emotion. “But I clearly can see exactly what you are.”

[hunklover]

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 14 - "Death is Not an Option"

Jake froze in place. He turned slowly to face Owen. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, you should.” Owen flatly replied.

Jake tried his best to sound authentically compassionate. “Have I done something to offend you?”

“This is a good place filled with decent people. You’ve been here less than half a day and things are already devolving.” Owen spat.

“Listen, mate, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake softly replied.

“I’m not your ‘mate’, and you do. You might have everyone else fooled here, ‘Jake’… but whoever you are, I know you’re not who you claim to be.” Owen stated - the frustration and anger strengthening in his voice.

Jake tried to close the distance between the two. “Owen, what are you talking abo…”

“Don’t take another step closer.” Owen’s words were punctuated by the glint of a pistol being pointed between Jake’s eyes. “You show up here in your fancy car…”

“It’s a rental, it’s an unpaid rental”. Jake calmly replied.

“…with your tall tales of wild adventures, and your cases of wine.” Owen uttered, his words laced with venom.

Jake paused once more… “You’re upset I brought alcohol here?” he incredulously asked.

“Did you bring it back with you when you returned from Dubai?” Replied Owen.

The words caused Jake and Jafar to mentally stumble. “What?”

“Dubai. That’s where you said you were at dinner… when all this insanity kicked off. And as far as I know, there’s been no air travel since then. So either you’re lying about where you were, or you’re lying about who you are.” He stated, the anger and fear he felt causing his voice and hands to shake.

Jake’s composure returned to him. “Owen, for a guy who says he sees exactly who I am, you’re getting me completely and utterly wrong.” He began to move towards the shorter man, a small branch snapping under his foot.

“I’m warning you, don’t take a step further!” Owen cried out.

“Owen.” Jake replied, trying to reason with Owen’s skittish attitude.

“I don’t know what you did to the boy, either… but I could smell how the pair of you reeked of sex when you two came in to eat earlier.” The words tumbled from Owen’s mouth and Jake could practically feel the venom they were laced with.

“He knows.” Jafar whispered inside their shared consciousness. “Are you going to handle this or should I?”

Jake, Jafar and Owen stood for a second. No-one saying a word. The warm, dry air feeling suddenly oppressive and uncomfortable for them all.

“Owen I’ve heard enough.” In one swift, silent movement, Jake was now inches away from Owen’s face. “You want to see the truth? So be it.”

With little more than a surprised gasp, Jake violently ripped Owen’s dark shades from his face and forcefully held the man’s head. His eyes flared with bright golden light, and he fixed his gaze upon the short man. The intensity of the light grew dramatically and in an instant, a stream of burning, golden fire was blasted into Owen’s optic nerves.

Owen’s mouth hung open, and he cried a silent, anguished scream as the unnatural visions began pouring into his brain. He saw… everything. Jafar’s imprisonment in the lamp. Jake’s discovery in the sand dunes. The corruption and enslavement of Majid. Jafar’s eventual rise to power. He saw it all as if they were his own experiences.

The sheer visual stimulus was too much for his mind to take in. Tears began to stream from his eyes, drool from his mouth as Jafar forcefully fed him all of the sick, twisted, depraved ways he intended to play with humanity for the rest of eternity. The ways in which he could create new realities, grow weary of them and simply erase them from existence. The more Owen saw, the less he understood. All the power of the multiverse, an entire cosmos to wreak havoc over and he chooses to toy with an army base in Cambridgeshire. He tried to rationalise it. To comprehend it. And as soon as he thought he was coming close to understanding, the golden light ceased.

Jafar threw Owen to the ground, the man desperately trying to catch his breath and find his bearings. He ran his fingers through the dirt and grass beneath them, his eyes tracing the movement of the soil flowing under his hands.

“I… I can… see?” He whispered. Shocked. He looked up to Jafar who stood above him.

“And now you see everything.”

Owen forced his eyes closed. “It’s too much. I don’t know how.. to..” He was struggling to comprehend the brightness and sharpness of the world around him.

“Sight is just a tiny fraction of what I can offer to you, Owen.” Jake began, softly stroking the man’s thinning hair. “Serve me and you’ll be perfected - eternally young and beautiful. Forever blissful.”

The words tumbled around Owen’s mind. He tried to look as if he were genuinely considering it, but the words “forever a slave” formed in his consciousness.

Jake chuckled. “You say ‘Potato’, I say ‘Tomato’.”

Owen stayed crouched on the ground. His brain swimming with the new sensory stimulations that were flooding his consciousness every time he opened his eyes. Everything he’d been told about Jafar was that the creature was pure evil; a monster who only lived for his own gratification - and yet if that were true - why had he gifted Owen with perfect vision? Something the world’s best doctors had gotten nowhere close to being able to provide. If the man, God, stood before him was a cruel and unfeeling beast; why do this?

“Owen, you don’t have to cower in the dirt before me. Please stand.” Jake stated, pulling the man to his feet. As he stood, Jake draped his arms around his shoulders. Some might see this as an act of dominance, Owen chose to see it as a comforting embrace and returned it. “I can feel the conflict within you.”

Owen just stared at Jake, no words feeling powerful enough to convey the range of emotions and thoughts that were wrestling through his mind.

“And, I think we both know that the real reason for your pain and hatred is that you were never offered the chance to serve me willingly.” Jake smiled. “The entire world got the chance to accept… but you were robbed of that. Now, I’m offering you that opportunity in person.”

Jake could see the mental torment flushing across Owens face. He knew what he was offering would be irresistible to strong-willed men: immortality, invulnerability, perfect health and beauty. And yet, he’d managed to weave his corruption through world leaders, spiritual figureheads, captains of industry and champions of morality - all of them now his playthings. Even so, stood before him, this rather pitiful figure still battled with what was being offered to him on a plate.

Once again, tears began to flow down Owens face. He couldn’t tell if it were because of the unfamiliar sensations he was feeling in his eyes or the internal anguish he felt. His whole body was trembling “I…..” he began. “I… will never serve you.” He squeezed the trigger of the gun and a shot fired out into the night.

“Oh Owen, you really didn’t want to do that.” Jake grumbled disappointedly. He let go of the man before him, watching him slump to the floor. A chunk of Owen’s skull and slivers of his brain tissue scattered across Jake’s face. A pool of blood formed beneath the corpse of the man as he lay lifelessly against the soil. “Because now I have to do this.” he continued, snapping his fingers and watching the shattered head reassembled itself - the neurones and nerve cells weaving themselves back together.

Owen jerked awake, his breath catching in his throat. He let out a pained cry. “Nooooo!” In his desperation, he considered that as the world had become a living nightmare, only death would be his escape. He now realised that Jafar wasn’t going to willingly let him go.

“Owen.” Jake said as he walked towards the cowering man. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been downright generous. But now I’m done with playing your games.” With every slow and deliberate step he made towards the terrified man, he lost a little more of the humanity he’d been wearing as a facade of normality. “I want you to know, you chose this. You made this happen.”

As the gap closed, Jake’s skin had turned a fiery red… his musculature clearly visible under the clothes he was still dressed in. His beard tightened into it’s familiar coil and the hair atop his head pulled into a cleanly shaved top knot.

Behind him, a door slammed and a familiar voice called out into the night. “Jake? Jake!?”

As Marcus rounded the corner he was struck with sheer terror at the scene that lay before him. Jake’s familiar, muscular body seemingly bathed head-to-toe in red.

Returning to shorter chapters now as we begin to head towards the end of the story and the ideas start coming thicker and faster to me. Comments and critique always appreciated.

[hunklover]

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 15 - "The Beginning of the End"

As Marcus rounded the corner he was struck with sheer terror at the scene that lay before him. Jake’s familiar, muscular body seemingly bathed head-to-toe in red. He lay in the dirt, clutching his stomach as blood pooled between his fingers and soaked into his clothes.

Standing over him was Owen, the smoking gun in his hands. Marcus’ eyes went wide and he let out a strangled cry as he sunk to his knees next to Jake. “Don’t try to move! Stay still, stay completely still.” He nervously whispered, intertwining his fingers with one of Jake’s hands. “HELP! HEEEEELP!! ANYONE!” He yelled.

Owen stood staring, completely dumfounded at the situation.. seconds ago he had seen the face of the crimson God, and now, with a snap of his fingers…this? He blinked. His vision becoming blurry with tears… it was horrific. And it had all happened in the blink of an eye.

Within seconds, Claire had raced from her bed to the unfolding drama, a crowd forming around the wounded young man. “Oh fuck!” she breathed as she cut away Jake’s t-shirt. “Okay… looks like there’s 1,2,3,4… 5 bullet wounds here! We have to get him to the medic’s station… can anyone help me move him?”

Tom made his way through the crowd and placed his strong hands under Jakes body, gently raising him up. As he did, Jake turned to Claire and Marcus and weakly panted. “Owen said, I’d brought this on my self, I chose this, I made this happen.”

“Okay… don’t try to speak. It’s all going to be fine. You are going to be fine.” Marcus soothingly said, trying to calm him. As he did, all eyes had turned to Owen, who was still frozen in place. The severity of the situation sinking in.

“He’s lying!” Owen gasped. “You’ve got to believe me, he’s not what he says he is.” He plead. His words being largely ignored by the group.

“That’s enough, Owen!” Anderson grunted, snatching the gun from his hands.

“But… he’s evil. He’s pure evil.” Owen continued.

“I said that’s enough!” Cried Anderson, forcefully punching Owen in the stomach, winding the man and causing him to double over in pain. He gasped to refill his lungs. As Jake’s body was carried past him, the pair locked eyes and Jake gave a slight, shit-eating grin. It was the last thing Owen saw as his vision faded away again… his world returning to darkness.

————————————————————

Four days had passed since the incident. Jake lay in the barracks medical centre - his midriff bandaged, but his mood light and uplifted. He’d regained consciousness in a surprisingly short amount of time - Claire was amazed at how quickly his body had been able to recover from several bullets to the stomach. In other men, this could have been a death sentence, but Jake seemed to be completely unfazed by his injuries. Claire had been strict in directing Jake to stay in bed for the next 72 hours, at least. But he was resisting, seemingly eager to be back on his feet.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Jake had been surrounded by the community that now called Alconbury their home. They’d rallied round to make his bedrest as comfortable as possible and he’d enjoyed their company. One of the group had seemingly never left his side; Tom.

Marcus had just returned to the medical centre after helping some of the others to prepare that evening’s meal. As he walked towards Jake’s bed, he watched as Tom was captivated by a series of coin tricks Jake was performing for him: Making it disappear behind his ear, it reappearing in his shirt pocket, it changing colour as it danced between his hands and then it totally vanishing into thin air. The young man giggled and enjoyed the show, but in the pit of Marcus’ stomach a knot of resentment had started to grow. Tom was unshakeable and he clung to Jake like a… lost dog.

“Having fun, you two?” He asked, as politely as he could, sitting down beside Jake.

“Have you seen any of Jake’s magic?” Marcus asked. “He’s incredible. He’s been practicing a routine.”
 
Jake shot Tom a quick look that was hard to read. He looked to Marcus and smiled warmly. “How’s it going, lover?”

Marcus winced slightly at the nickname Jake had given him. “All good, dinner should be ready soon. You feeling okay?”

“He’s great. He’s getting stronger everyday.” Tom answered on Jake’s behalf.

The couple looked at the boy and both forced a smile. “Actually, I’m a little thirsty. Tom would you mind getting me and Marc something to drink?” Jake purred.

“Sure! I’ll go as fast as I can!! Be right back.” Tom leapt to his feet and bounded out towards the hall way at a lightning pace.

The room grew quiet for a moment.

When Marcus was certain Tom was out of earshot he groaned. “Does that kid have an ‘off’ switch?”

“Awww, he’s sweet.” Jake smiled to himself. “Like a cute little puppy; eager to please!”

Marcus didn’t share Jake’s enthusiasm, but he decided it was simpler not to have the disagreement. “So… a magic act? How long have you done magic?”

“Oh it’s nothing. I just wanted to give something back to the group.” Jake replied, his hand cupping Marcus’ “They’ve all been so good to me.”

Marcus looked towards Jakes bandaged belly. “Not ALL of them.”

“Ugh, forget about him. The man is clearly unhinged.” Jake offered.

But forgetting about Owen was easier said than done. After the incident, Anderson had directed the group to take him  underground and he’d been placed into what had previously been a server and storage room - now converted into a makeshift prison cell. For the last few days, crazy rumours had swirled around the base of the story Owen had insisted upon. Repeated and restated over and over without deviation or change. He was insistent that his story was true and as the days wore on, he’d become more and more erratic and emotionally charged - fearful for the fate of the rest of the group. Of course, all of this had been second-hand information to Marcus, he’d not paid the man a visit; the vision of him standing over Jake with a pistol in his hands had haunted him. But his curiosity was beginning to peak.

The door to the medical station burst open and Tom came bounding towards the duo, a can of Sprite in each hand.

“I SPRINTED ALL THE WAY!” He merrily yelled as he threw himself back into the seat beside Jake, the bedbound man ruffling the younger man’s hair.

“I’d better go back to the kitchen.” Marcus said, rising from his seat.

“You don’t want this?” Tom smiled, referencing the can in his hand. Before Marcus had a chance to respond, the can was opened and its contents flowing down Tom’s throat. He drained the can and burped loudly, like a wild animal.

“I’ll see you later.” Marcus flatly stated as he headed out the door. The giggles and laughter he heard as he’d entered moment ago, resuming behind his back.

Jake knew.

————————————————————

Owen had never thought of his life as being dark before. Having never had sight, he’d never truly missed it. But now, as he lay on the floor of his subterranean prison, his existence felt incredibly dark. For a brief, glorious moment he’d seen the world around him; seen everything in such vivid detail that it had nearly driven him mad. But he knew he wasn’t crazy. He knew he was the sanest person there - the rest of them were the ones descending into madness. He chuckled to himself, finding a shred of humour in the irony that as a blind man, he was the one who saw the world the most clearly.

His thoughts were disturbed, by the slamming of a door. He sniffed, and his nostrils were filled with the pungent scent of a vegetable stew.

“Owen? It’s me, it’s..”

“I know who you are.” Owen replied, silencing the voice.

The air suddenly felt hot an oppressive.

“Owen, can I talk to you?”

Owen let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve told my story. Countless times. Everyone has heard it, and no one has listened.”

Marcus paused for a second. “I’m ready to listen.”

Owen shifted to a seated position facing Marcus. Marcus studied his face as the older man searched for the right words.

“Do you know?” Owen started. “Do you know what he is?”

Marcus sat down in front of Owen. “No.” He replied. “Why don’t you tell me?”

————————————————————

The dining hall erupted with cheers. Nobody had expected to see Jake walk through the doors, but as he did - the whole group were delighted to see the dark, handsome man back in the room. Even Claire, who had advised against any sort of physical activity raised to her feet and clapped as Jake approached the table.

“Thank you everyone, thank you!” Jake loudly stated, the room grew quiet. “Let’s dine together, and then afterwards as a sign of my appreciation for everything you’ve done; I’d like to treat you all to a show!”

The room filled with applause again and everyone took their seats; aside from one - the spot next to Jake. Marcus was nowhere to be seen.

————————————————————

The words had essentially fallen out of Owen’s mouth; a story so crazy - so utterly bizarre that it sounded like the invention of a lunatic. And yet, he described the events with such staggering clarity; details that made the tale solidify into vision in Marcus’ mind. And the more Owen spoke, the more questions Marcus had.

When the story had been told, the pair sat in silence as Owen drained his bowl of soup. Questions swirled around Marcus’ head as he tried to reason Owen’s words with logic.

After a few moments of quiet, Owen began to speak once again.

“You haven’t noticed anything different about him? About how he walks? How he talks? His body or his mind?” He asked.

Marcus remained silent. All of those things had changed. All of them.

“You never questioned why in a world of 8 billion people, in a city of thousands, you two were the only ones who weren’t made into zombies?”

A feeling of dread had started to wash over Marcus, catching in his throat.

“You never took a second to ask him ‘hey, how the fuck did you get back from the middle east if no airlines are running?’ or ‘how come you look like a bodybuilder?’ or ‘how come you’re now hung like a pornstar?’ “. Owen continued, anger rising in his voice.

“No.” Marcus whispered. He tried to rationalise everything Marcus was saying - above ground it was easy to make sense of everything, but here… his brain tried to make a mental jigsaw puzzle of the facts, but the pieces just wouldn’t go together.

“‘No’ you didn’t? Or ‘No’ you don’t believe me?” Owen bluntly asked.

Marcus couldn’t handle any more. He felt as if he might faint and he needed to get away from Owen as quickly as possible. “I should go.” He raised to his feet and moved to the door.

“Whatever he says he is! Whatever you think he is! He’s something you have no understanding of!” Owen yelled as Marcus slammed the door shut.

Marcus knew.
————————————————————

Above ground and in the open, Marcus gasped for air. His mind ached as he tried to dismiss Owens points; but he couldn’t. There were simply too many things to be dismissed - too much evidence that pointed to the truth.

The reality of it all solidified in Marcus’ mind and he started to heave; vomiting from the shock of it all. As he did, he heard the first wave. Laughter. Hearty, vigorous laughter.

He turned to face the dining hall, and as he stepped towards the mess house doors, he heard the group inside explode into another rapturous cheer of joy.

Marcus pushed open the doors and entered the room. The benches had been rearrange to face a raised stage area. Stood in the middle of the stage, illuminated by a single spotlight was Jake. He wore an open, long, red and black gown, with thick raised shoulder pads, curling to the sky; making his wide frame seem even more dominating. It flowed down his body, showing off his chest and flawless abdominals. Atop his head, he wore a large black turban, pinned with a huge ruby broach in the middle, and in his hand, he held a long, solid gold staff; the head of which was a hooded cobra - rubies for eyes.

On his left, Anderson stood - essentially naked. His thick torso was wrapped in a blood red leather harness, his cock and balls straining to get out of a tight, matching leather thong. He was in the process of doing a series of bodybuilding poses and with each muscle group he targeted to show off, the muscle beneath his skin seemed to firm up and grow slightly larger. His eyes seemed glazed, but throughout all of this, he continued to beam at Jake; a mixture of lust and pride drawn across his face.

On his right, Tom was crouched on all fours. A red t-shirt, two sizes too small was plastered onto his torso. On the front, it read “Daddy’s Good Little Boy”. He was nuzzling at Jake’s crotch, his long thick tongue lapping at the treats hidden inside. At the other end of his body, a thick white, fluffy tail was involuntarily whipping around in the air.

“You see, everyone - deep inside every single one of you is a desire, a craving, a need. Some of you need for someone else to take control, don’t you?” Jake grinned, turning to Anderson.

Anderson saluted Jake. “Sir, yes Sir!” The crowd burst into laughter once again.

“Some of you need to become the beasts you were always meant to be. Isn’t that right, boy?” Jake groaned, looking down.

Tom barked enthusiastically. Not the barks of a human trying to emulate a dog. Proper, deep, canine barks. His nose and mouth beginning to push out into a muzzle.

“And then, there are some of you who simply need… me.”

A spotlight suddenly blinded Marcus. The light pouring into his eyes.

“What… what is this?” Marcus asked, shielding his lights from the view.

“This? This is the final showdown, baby.” Jake grinned maliciously. “And you’re the headline act.”

All eyes turned to face Marcus. Every person waiting to see what he would say next.

But he stayed silent.

Jake turned the Cobra staff to face Marcus and tapped it against the floor. A beam of magic burst from the eyes of the artefact and towards Marcus, coagulating around him and raising him from the ground. The crowd gasped with amazement. As he floated towards the stage, he attempted to fight the mystical bindings that carried him aloft the crowd, but couldn’t.

He hovered a few feet away from Jake, slowly rotating in mid-air.

“It’s true.” Marcus whispered to himself. A mixture of sadness, fear and dread lacing his words.

“I’m sorry?” Jake replied. “You’ll need to speak up.”

“I know who and what you are.” Marcus defiantly replied.

“Oh…” Jake replied. “…goody.” He evilly grinned. He brought both hands up towards his face and thrust them, down towards his sides - puffing out his chest. As he did, a shower of magic washed over him; his clothing disintegrated, his body expanded, his skin returned to its comfortable, vibrant, magnificent red as his godliness was restored. Bare naked flesh exposed to the world.

The crowd before him let out a collective cry of horror and shock; but found themselves unable to move from their seats - try as they might.

“Mmmmm, that’s better.” Jake and Jafar collectively moaned. Tom instinctively wrapped his muzzle around Jafar’s cock head and began to lick the piss slit. “It’s divine to be divine.” He grinned.

“This… this isn’t you, Jake.” Marcus tried to reason with the hulking, red brute he hovered before.

“I assure you, Marc… this is all me. I admit Jafar and I may have at one point had a difference of opinion, but now we’re well and truly on the same page.” Tom’s muzzle was forced deeper as Jafar and Jake wrapped a red, clawed hand around the back of the young man’s head. The wolf boy gagging as he continued to suckle, frothy spit forming at the sides of his mouth.

“You’re evil.” Marc spat. “Completely evil.”

“We’re so sick of hearing that, Marcus. Look at the world: No wars, no famine, no starvation, no disease, no hatred… well, aside from you.”

“I don’t hate anyone.” Marcus rapidly retorted.

“Lie. You hate us. You hate everything about us.” Jake and Jafar chided as they rubbed their nipples and snapped their attention behind to Marcus. “And you know exactly why that is, don’t you?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Marcus. You can’t lie to us. We know you, we know everything about you… inside and out. You might try to pretend you’re an instrument of morality and goodness, but we all know, the reason you hate us so much, is because you’re jealous.” Jake and Jafar menacingly smiled.

The red deity turned to the crowd, most of which were now cowering or catatonically frozen in place. With a booming voice he began. “Ladies and Gentlemen, for my next trick, I’m going to give this young man exactly what he’s always wanted.”

In an instant, Marcus was dropped onto the stage, facing the crowd. His clothing began to unthread itself. Unwinding and unravelling before his eyes. In seconds he stood completely stripped. Instinctively, his hands moved to cover his genitals. His 2 inch cock hidden beneath his palms.

“Ah, ah ah!” Jake and Jafar sinisterly smirked. “We don’t think so.” They raised their hands as if playing with an invisible puppet and Jakes arm unnaturally raised above his head, causing the man to moan in discomfort.

“Such an impressive specimen…” Jake and Jafar began, walking behind Marcus, placing their hands on his body and tracing their fingers over his skin. “…strong arms, boulder shoulders, thick pecs, tight abs. It’s all so perfect. Until we get here.” Their hands rested either side of Jake’s flaccid cock and balls.

The flesh of his uncircumcised penis was practically rolled into itself, and his meagre testes hung tightly against it. Tears formed in the corners of Marcus’ eyes as shame and embarrassment wracked through him, but he blinked them back, determined not to give this monster any satisfaction.

“No Marcus. This is about YOUR satisfaction.” Jafar and Jake said directly to him. They began to speak to the crowd again. “It’s amazing how much one tiny, VERY TINY, part of the human anatomy can lead a man to such self loathing.” He smiled at Jake. “I don’t want my subjects to ever feel that.”

Jafar and Jake moved to the side of Marcus and with both hands began to jerk off the air in front of his crotch. As they did, their eyes were locked onto his tiny nub of a cock. Marcus felt a heat in his loins he’d never previously felt in his life. It burned and ached in his balls. He daren’t look down, but his eyes couldn’t resist. He heard it before he saw anything. Like a water filling a metal flask, his balls began to inflate and grow.

Thick veins began to criss-cross on the surface, the skin of his nut sack stretching tight as his testicles took on weight. They ballooned to the size of large apples, and became just as juicy and tempting. He could feel them churning and filling with fresh, eager seed. His body instantly felt flooded with horniness, testosterone was pouring into his entire being. He wanted to fuck… he wanted to fuck everyone. He wanted to fuck the entire planet.

He threw his head back and revelled in the feeling of power and strength his new bollocks were giving him. Seconds later, he felt the first brush of skin against Jafar’s hands and a shudder of pleasure sparked through his spine. His head twisted back down. The pain he’d initially felt continued as he felt his cock fill with blood, as it grew erect. But then, it kept getting firmer and firmer - it was the erection to end all erections. He felt it pulse and throb with his heartbeat. And with every breath, it pushed out further and thicker.

The air Jafar had previously been caressing and stroking was being pushed out of the way as Marcus’ spire continued to grow. Finger thick veins littered the surface of the skin and the whole length throbbed and pulsated with continued growth. The pain began to fade and in its place, ripples of sheer ecstasy flowed across Marcus. Inch after inch, his cock expanded outwards, the length now approaching a foot long. He grunted in joy as he felt Jafar’s fingers start to dig in; the deity having to open his hands to accommodate the flesh.

At the tip, the foreskin was magically cast away.. his cock head was open to the elements and pre-cum was flowing down the entire length of his dick. Moistening Jake and Jafar’s hands allowing the God to slide over every ridge, groove and bump of Marcus’ unstoppable fuck stick.

Marcus had never felt so powerful - this was a cock that demanded attention. Pure bliss crashed through his mind and body with ever gesture and caress from the clawed fingers that circled his cock. He was in heaven, it was mind-numbingly awesome… his sexual pleasure was growing by the second, heading towards the strongest orgasm of his life. And yet, he felt angry, frustrated and unfulfilled.

The ever climbing sexual pleasure he felt, the electric tingles that shot from his cock to his brain; involuntarily causing him to spasm were tinged with that familiar feeling of self hatred. He was loving every second of this unimaginable, incredible, unearthly pleasure and yet he couldn’t help feel that he’d missed out on years of this; an entire lifetime with his previous pathetic, barely usable cock. His self hatred, turned into a full blown rage as he began to thrust into Jafar’s hands. Furious of all the years he’d missed out on fucking twinks and jocks, daddies and bears into submission. The years he’d spent bottoming when all he wanted to do was plow. He began to imagine what his life would have been if he’d always had this incredible cock.

Jafar and Jake, smiled widely as their eyes met Marcus’. Marcus leaned forwards and pulled Jafar’s head towards him, forcing the God into a deep, wild passionate kiss. Naturally, they kissed back and as it continued, the visions in Marcus’ mind became clearer and stronger. He imagined walking into the showers after swimming practice at school, the other boys envy and jealousy filling him with a sense of pride. He saw himself picking up random guys in gay bars on Canal Street, taking them home and fucking them until they begged him for mercy. He pictured meeting Jake for the first time, young sheepish Jake unsubtly rubbing his cock through his jeans as they chatted at the bar. Them going back to Jake’s home and fucking; Jake whining and groaning into the night. He saw the pair of them in every conceivable position. Time after time, him brutally fucking Jake until the pair of them exploded. He watched as they’d whiled away the evenings during lockdown shagging on the sofa; Jake coming home, stepping in front of the TV as he played Forza on the Xbox with his friends, then Jake eagerly pulling down his shorts and sucking on his coke-can thick cock.

He watched as a reality rewrote itself. Their breakup never happening. Jake never leaving for Dubai. The lamp remaining hidden in the sands. The pair of them fucking their way through the coronavirus outbreak to this very moment. Jake lying on their double bed, Marcus forcing his way in deeper and deeper.

Jake groaned beneath him. “More!” He cried.

Marcus’ thighs and arse flexed as he thrust as far as he can into the slim body beneath him. Jake’s slick arse essentially sucking the penis in as far as it could.

“Oh shit, Jake… it’s like your cheeks were made for my thick dick.” He grumbled as he slides out and shoves back in again. No resistance, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh, that’s it! Breed me, you fucking beast.” Jake erotically squealed before Marcus forced his head into the pillow and picked up the pace. To an outside viewer, it might look like Marcus was mercilessly fucking Jake, with no regard to the smaller man’s pleasure; but every single stroke pushed and prodded against his prostate causing jolts of pleasure for both of them.

Jake started moaning. Rocking his hips in time with Marcus to deepen the impact of the muscle man’s thrusts; the pair getting lost in the action. Sweat flooding across their bodies as they vigorously and forcefully gyrated into each other in sync.

Marcus was ramming into the smaller man beneath him, making him flail around like a rag doll, thrashing into him like a wild animal. The heat between the two rising steadily to the point of no return. Marcus fired into Jake; volley after volley of hot, thick, potent cum. Flooding his insides and drowning his mind.

The two began to giggle as they caught their breath. The aftershocks of their orgasms causing Marcus’ thoughts to become hazy. Jake continued to chuckle as he rolled out from underneath the muscular top.

“What?” Marcus smiled at Jake. “What is it?”

“This.” Jake replied. “It’s so perfect.” He panted.

“It really is.” Marcus grinned, kissing him softly on the lips.

We're nearly at the end now; I want to thank each and every reader for coming along and cumming along on this journey with me. As a new writer, your encouragement and support has been so, so valuable. Thank you again. HL

[lazer0100]

6 hours ago, hunklover said:

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 15 - "The Beginning of the End"

As Marcus rounded the corner he was struck with sheer terror at the scene that lay before him. Jake’s familiar, muscular body seemingly bathed head-to-toe in red. He lay in the dirt, clutching his stomach as blood pooled between his fingers and soaked into his clothes.

Standing over him was Owen, the smoking gun in his hands. Marcus’ eyes went wide and he let out a strangled cry as he sunk to his knees next to Jake. “Don’t try to move! Stay still, stay completely still.” He nervously whispered, intertwining his fingers with one of Jake’s hands. “HELP! HEEEEELP!! ANYONE!” He yelled.

Owen stood staring, completely dumfounded at the situation.. seconds ago he had seen the face of the crimson God, and now, with a snap of his fingers…this? He blinked. His vision becoming blurry with tears… it was horrific. And it had all happened in the blink of an eye.

Within seconds, Claire had raced from her bed to the unfolding drama, a crowd forming around the wounded young man. “Oh fuck!” she breathed as she cut away Jake’s t-shirt. “Okay… looks like there’s 1,2,3,4… 5 bullet wounds here! We have to get him to the medic’s station… can anyone help me move him?”

Tom made his way through the crowd and placed his strong hands under Jakes body, gently raising him up. As he did, Jake turned to Claire and Marcus and weakly panted. “Owen said, I’d brought this on my self, I chose this, I made this happen.”

“Okay… don’t try to speak. It’s all going to be fine. You are going to be fine.” Marcus soothingly said, trying to calm him. As he did, all eyes had turned to Owen, who was still frozen in place. The severity of the situation sinking in.

“He’s lying!” Owen gasped. “You’ve got to believe me, he’s not what he says he is.” He plead. His words being largely ignored by the group.

“That’s enough, Owen!” Anderson grunted, snatching the gun from his hands.

“But… he’s evil. He’s pure evil.” Owen continued.

“I said that’s enough!” Cried Anderson, forcefully punching Owen in the stomach, winding the man and causing him to double over in pain. He gasped to refill his lungs. As Jake’s body was carried past him, the pair locked eyes and Jake gave a slight, shit-eating grin. It was the last thing Owen saw as his vision faded away again… his world returning to darkness.

————————————————————

Four days had passed since the incident. Jake lay in the barracks medical centre - his midriff bandaged, but his mood light and uplifted. He’d regained consciousness in a surprisingly short amount of time - Claire was amazed at how quickly his body had been able to recover from several bullets to the stomach. In other men, this could have been a death sentence, but Jake seemed to be completely unfazed by his injuries. Claire had been strict in directing Jake to stay in bed for the next 72 hours, at least. But he was resisting, seemingly eager to be back on his feet.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Jake had been surrounded by the community that now called Alconbury their home. They’d rallied round to make his bedrest as comfortable as possible and he’d enjoyed their company. One of the group had seemingly never left his side; Tom.

Marcus had just returned to the medical centre after helping some of the others to prepare that evening’s meal. As he walked towards Jake’s bed, he watched as Tom was captivated by a series of coin tricks Jake was performing for him: Making it disappear behind his ear, it reappearing in his shirt pocket, it changing colour as it danced between his hands and then it totally vanishing into thin air. The young man giggled and enjoyed the show, but in the pit of Marcus’ stomach a knot of resentment had started to grow. Tom was unshakeable and he clung to Jake like a… lost dog.

“Having fun, you two?” He asked, as politely as he could, sitting down beside Jake.

“Have you seen any of Jake’s magic?” Marcus asked. “He’s incredible. He’s been practicing a routine.”
 
Jake shot Tom a quick look that was hard to read. He looked to Marcus and smiled warmly. “How’s it going, lover?”

Marcus winced slightly at the nickname Jake had given him. “All good, dinner should be ready soon. You feeling okay?”

“He’s great. He’s getting stronger everyday.” Tom answered on Jake’s behalf.

The couple looked at the boy and both forced a smile. “Actually, I’m a little thirsty. Tom would you mind getting me and Marc something to drink?” Jake purred.

“Sure! I’ll go as fast as I can!! Be right back.” Tom leapt to his feet and bounded out towards the hall way at a lightning pace.

The room grew quiet for a moment.

When Marcus was certain Tom was out of earshot he groaned. “Does that kid have an ‘off’ switch?”

“Awww, he’s sweet.” Jake smiled to himself. “Like a cute little puppy; eager to please!”

Marcus didn’t share Jake’s enthusiasm, but he decided it was simpler not to have the disagreement. “So… a magic act? How long have you done magic?”

“Oh it’s nothing. I just wanted to give something back to the group.” Jake replied, his hand cupping Marcus’ “They’ve all been so good to me.”

Marcus looked towards Jakes bandaged belly. “Not ALL of them.”

“Ugh, forget about him. The man is clearly unhinged.” Jake offered.

But forgetting about Owen was easier said than done. After the incident, Anderson had directed the group to take him  underground and he’d been placed into what had previously been a server and storage room - now converted into a makeshift prison cell. For the last few days, crazy rumours had swirled around the base of the story Owen had insisted upon. Repeated and restated over and over without deviation or change. He was insistent that his story was true and as the days wore on, he’d become more and more erratic and emotionally charged - fearful for the fate of the rest of the group. Of course, all of this had been second-hand information to Marcus, he’d not paid the man a visit; the vision of him standing over Jake with a pistol in his hands had haunted him. But his curiosity was beginning to peak.

The door to the medical station burst open and Tom came bounding towards the duo, a can of Sprite in each hand.

“I SPRINTED ALL THE WAY!” He merrily yelled as he threw himself back into the seat beside Jake, the bedbound man ruffling the younger man’s hair.

“I’d better go back to the kitchen.” Marcus said, rising from his seat.

“You don’t want this?” Tom smiled, referencing the can in his hand. Before Marcus had a chance to respond, the can was opened and its contents flowing down Tom’s throat. He drained the can and burped loudly, like a wild animal.

“I’ll see you later.” Marcus flatly stated as he headed out the door. The giggles and laughter he heard as he’d entered moment ago, resuming behind his back.

Jake knew.

————————————————————

Owen had never thought of his life as being dark before. Having never had sight, he’d never truly missed it. But now, as he lay on the floor of his subterranean prison, his existence felt incredibly dark. For a brief, glorious moment he’d seen the world around him; seen everything in such vivid detail that it had nearly driven him mad. But he knew he wasn’t crazy. He knew he was the sanest person there - the rest of them were the ones descending into madness. He chuckled to himself, finding a shred of humour in the irony that as a blind man, he was the one who saw the world the most clearly.

His thoughts were disturbed, by the slamming of a door. He sniffed, and his nostrils were filled with the pungent scent of a vegetable stew.

“Owen? It’s me, it’s..”

“I know who you are.” Owen replied, silencing the voice.

The air suddenly felt hot an oppressive.

“Owen, can I talk to you?”

Owen let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve told my story. Countless times. Everyone has heard it, and no one has listened.”

Marcus paused for a second. “I’m ready to listen.”

Owen shifted to a seated position facing Marcus. Marcus studied his face as the older man searched for the right words.

“Do you know?” Owen started. “Do you know what he is?”

Marcus sat down in front of Owen. “No.” He replied. “Why don’t you tell me?”

————————————————————

The dining hall erupted with cheers. Nobody had expected to see Jake walk through the doors, but as he did - the whole group were delighted to see the dark, handsome man back in the room. Even Claire, who had advised against any sort of physical activity raised to her feet and clapped as Jake approached the table.

“Thank you everyone, thank you!” Jake loudly stated, the room grew quiet. “Let’s dine together, and then afterwards as a sign of my appreciation for everything you’ve done; I’d like to treat you all to a show!”

The room filled with applause again and everyone took their seats; aside from one - the spot next to Jake. Marcus was nowhere to be seen.

————————————————————

The words had essentially fallen out of Owen’s mouth; a story so crazy - so utterly bizarre that it sounded like the invention of a lunatic. And yet, he described the events with such staggering clarity; details that made the tale solidify into vision in Marcus’ mind. And the more Owen spoke, the more questions Marcus had.

When the story had been told, the pair sat in silence as Owen drained his bowl of soup. Questions swirled around Marcus’ head as he tried to reason Owen’s words with logic.

After a few moments of quiet, Owen began to speak once again.

“You haven’t noticed anything different about him? About how he walks? How he talks? His body or his mind?” He asked.

Marcus remained silent. All of those things had changed. All of them.

“You never questioned why in a world of 8 billion people, in a city of thousands, you two were the only ones who weren’t made into zombies?”

A feeling of dread had started to wash over Marcus, catching in his throat.

“You never took a second to ask him ‘hey, how the fuck did you get back from the middle east if no airlines are running?’ or ‘how come you look like a bodybuilder?’ or ‘how come you’re now hung like a pornstar?’ “. Owen continued, anger rising in his voice.

“No.” Marcus whispered. He tried to rationalise everything Marcus was saying - above ground it was easy to make sense of everything, but here… his brain tried to make a mental jigsaw puzzle of the facts, but the pieces just wouldn’t go together.

“‘No’ you didn’t? Or ‘No’ you don’t believe me?” Owen bluntly asked.

Marcus couldn’t handle any more. He felt as if he might faint and he needed to get away from Owen as quickly as possible. “I should go.” He raised to his feet and moved to the door.

“Whatever he says he is! Whatever you think he is! He’s something you have no understanding of!” Owen yelled as Marcus slammed the door shut.

Marcus knew.
————————————————————

Above ground and in the open, Marcus gasped for air. His mind ached as he tried to dismiss Owens points; but he couldn’t. There were simply too many things to be dismissed - too much evidence that pointed to the truth.

The reality of it all solidified in Marcus’ mind and he started to heave; vomiting from the shock of it all. As he did, he heard the first wave. Laughter. Hearty, vigorous laughter.

He turned to face the dining hall, and as he stepped towards the mess house doors, he heard the group inside explode into another rapturous cheer of joy.

Marcus pushed open the doors and entered the room. The benches had been rearrange to face a raised stage area. Stood in the middle of the stage, illuminated by a single spotlight was Jake. He wore an open, long, red and black gown, with thick raised shoulder pads, curling to the sky; making his wide frame seem even more dominating. It flowed down his body, showing off his chest and flawless abdominals. Atop his head, he wore a large black turban, pinned with a huge ruby broach in the middle, and in his hand, he held a long, solid gold staff; the head of which was a hooded cobra - rubies for eyes.

On his left, Anderson stood - essentially naked. His thick torso was wrapped in a blood red leather harness, his cock and balls straining to get out of a tight, matching leather thong. He was in the process of doing a series of bodybuilding poses and with each muscle group he targeted to show off, the muscle beneath his skin seemed to firm up and grow slightly larger. His eyes seemed glazed, but throughout all of this, he continued to beam at Jake; a mixture of lust and pride drawn across his face.

On his right, Tom was crouched on all fours. A red t-shirt, two sizes too small was plastered onto his torso. On the front, it read “Daddy’s Good Little Boy”. He was nuzzling at Jake’s crotch, his long thick tongue lapping at the treats hidden inside. At the other end of his body, a thick white, fluffy tail was involuntarily whipping around in the air.

“You see, everyone - deep inside every single one of you is a desire, a craving, a need. Some of you need for someone else to take control, don’t you?” Jake grinned, turning to Anderson.

Anderson saluted Jake. “Sir, yes Sir!” The crowd burst into laughter once again.

“Some of you need to become the beasts you were always meant to be. Isn’t that right, boy?” Jake groaned, looking down.

Tom barked enthusiastically. Not the barks of a human trying to emulate a dog. Proper, deep, canine barks. His nose and mouth beginning to push out into a muzzle.

“And then, there are some of you who simply need… me.”

A spotlight suddenly blinded Marcus. The light pouring into his eyes.

“What… what is this?” Marcus asked, shielding his lights from the view.

“This? This is the final showdown, baby.” Jake grinned maliciously. “And you’re the headline act.”

All eyes turned to face Marcus. Every person waiting to see what he would say next.

But he stayed silent.

Jake turned the Cobra staff to face Marcus and tapped it against the floor. A beam of magic burst from the eyes of the artefact and towards Marcus, coagulating around him and raising him from the ground. The crowd gasped with amazement. As he floated towards the stage, he attempted to fight the mystical bindings that carried him aloft the crowd, but couldn’t.

He hovered a few feet away from Jake, slowly rotating in mid-air.

“It’s true.” Marcus whispered to himself. A mixture of sadness, fear and dread lacing his words.

“I’m sorry?” Jake replied. “You’ll need to speak up.”

“I know who and what you are.” Marcus defiantly replied.

“Oh…” Jake replied. “…goody.” He evilly grinned. He brought both hands up towards his face and thrust them, down towards his sides - puffing out his chest. As he did, a shower of magic washed over him; his clothing disintegrated, his body expanded, his skin returned to its comfortable, vibrant, magnificent red as his godliness was restored. Bare naked flesh exposed to the world.

The crowd before him let out a collective cry of horror and shock; but found themselves unable to move from their seats - try as they might.

“Mmmmm, that’s better.” Jake and Jafar collectively moaned. Tom instinctively wrapped his muzzle around Jafar’s cock head and began to lick the piss slit. “It’s divine to be divine.” He grinned.

“This… this isn’t you, Jake.” Marcus tried to reason with the hulking, red brute he hovered before.

“I assure you, Marc… this is all me. I admit Jafar and I may have at one point had a difference of opinion, but now we’re well and truly on the same page.” Tom’s muzzle was forced deeper as Jafar and Jake wrapped a red, clawed hand around the back of the young man’s head. The wolf boy gagging as he continued to suckle, frothy spit forming at the sides of his mouth.

“You’re evil.” Marc spat. “Completely evil.”

“We’re so sick of hearing that, Marcus. Look at the world: No wars, no famine, no starvation, no disease, no hatred… well, aside from you.”

“I don’t hate anyone.” Marcus rapidly retorted.

“Lie. You hate us. You hate everything about us.” Jake and Jafar chided as they rubbed their nipples and snapped their attention behind to Marcus. “And you know exactly why that is, don’t you?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Marcus. You can’t lie to us. We know you, we know everything about you… inside and out. You might try to pretend you’re an instrument of morality and goodness, but we all know, the reason you hate us so much, is because you’re jealous.” Jake and Jafar menacingly smiled.

The red deity turned to the crowd, most of which were now cowering or catatonically frozen in place. With a booming voice he began. “Ladies and Gentlemen, for my next trick, I’m going to give this young man exactly what he’s always wanted.”

In an instant, Marcus was dropped onto the stage, facing the crowd. His clothing began to unthread itself. Unwinding and unravelling before his eyes. In seconds he stood completely stripped. Instinctively, his hands moved to cover his genitals. His 2 inch cock hidden beneath his palms.

“Ah, ah ah!” Jake and Jafar sinisterly smirked. “We don’t think so.” They raised their hands as if playing with an invisible puppet and Jakes arm unnaturally raised above his head, causing the man to moan in discomfort.

“Such an impressive specimen…” Jake and Jafar began, walking behind Marcus, placing their hands on his body and tracing their fingers over his skin. “…strong arms, boulder shoulders, thick pecs, tight abs. It’s all so perfect. Until we get here.” Their hands rested either side of Jake’s flaccid cock and balls.

The flesh of his uncircumcised penis was practically rolled into itself, and his meagre testes hung tightly against it. Tears formed in the corners of Marcus’ eyes as shame and embarrassment wracked through him, but he blinked them back, determined not to give this monster any satisfaction.

“No Marcus. This is about YOUR satisfaction.” Jafar and Jake said directly to him. They began to speak to the crowd again. “It’s amazing how much one tiny, VERY TINY, part of the human anatomy can lead a man to such self loathing.” He smiled at Jake. “I don’t want my subjects to ever feel that.”

Jafar and Jake moved to the side of Marcus and with both hands began to jerk off the air in front of his crotch. As they did, their eyes were locked onto his tiny nub of a cock. Marcus felt a heat in his loins he’d never previously felt in his life. It burned and ached in his balls. He daren’t look down, but his eyes couldn’t resist. He heard it before he saw anything. Like a water filling a metal flask, his balls began to inflate and grow.

Thick veins began to criss-cross on the surface, the skin of his nut sack stretching tight as his testicles took on weight. They ballooned to the size of large apples, and became just as juicy and tempting. He could feel them churning and filling with fresh, eager seed. His body instantly felt flooded with horniness, testosterone was pouring into his entire being. He wanted to fuck… he wanted to fuck everyone. He wanted to fuck the entire planet.

He threw his head back and revelled in the feeling of power and strength his new bollocks were giving him. Seconds later, he felt the first brush of skin against Jafar’s hands and a shudder of pleasure sparked through his spine. His head twisted back down. The pain he’d initially felt continued as he felt his cock fill with blood, as it grew erect. But then, it kept getting firmer and firmer - it was the erection to end all erections. He felt it pulse and throb with his heartbeat. And with every breath, it pushed out further and thicker.

The air Jafar had previously been caressing and stroking was being pushed out of the way as Marcus’ spire continued to grow. Finger thick veins littered the surface of the skin and the whole length throbbed and pulsated with continued growth. The pain began to fade and in its place, ripples of sheer ecstasy flowed across Marcus. Inch after inch, his cock expanded outwards, the length now approaching a foot long. He grunted in joy as he felt Jafar’s fingers start to dig in; the deity having to open his hands to accommodate the flesh.

At the tip, the foreskin was magically cast away.. his cock head was open to the elements and pre-cum was flowing down the entire length of his dick. Moistening Jake and Jafar’s hands allowing the God to slide over every ridge, groove and bump of Marcus’ unstoppable fuck stick.

Marcus had never felt so powerful - this was a cock that demanded attention. Pure bliss crashed through his mind and body with ever gesture and caress from the clawed fingers that circled his cock. He was in heaven, it was mind-numbingly awesome… his sexual pleasure was growing by the second, heading towards the strongest orgasm of his life. And yet, he felt angry, frustrated and unfulfilled.

The ever climbing sexual pleasure he felt, the electric tingles that shot from his cock to his brain; involuntarily causing him to spasm were tinged with that familiar feeling of self hatred. He was loving every second of this unimaginable, incredible, unearthly pleasure and yet he couldn’t help feel that he’d missed out on years of this; an entire lifetime with his previous pathetic, barely usable cock. His self hatred, turned into a full blown rage as he began to thrust into Jafar’s hands. Furious of all the years he’d missed out on fucking twinks and jocks, daddies and bears into submission. The years he’d spent bottoming when all he wanted to do was plow. He began to imagine what his life would have been if he’d always had this incredible cock.

Jafar and Jake, smiled widely as their eyes met Marcus’. Marcus leaned forwards and pulled Jafar’s head towards him, forcing the God into a deep, wild passionate kiss. Naturally, they kissed back and as it continued, the visions in Marcus’ mind became clearer and stronger. He imagined walking into the showers after swimming practice at school, the other boys envy and jealousy filling him with a sense of pride. He saw himself picking up random guys in gay bars on Canal Street, taking them home and fucking them until they begged him for mercy. He pictured meeting Jake for the first time, young sheepish Jake unsubtly rubbing his cock through his jeans as they chatted at the bar. Them going back to Jake’s home and fucking; Jake whining and groaning into the night. He saw the pair of them in every conceivable position. Time after time, him brutally fucking Jake until the pair of them exploded. He watched as they’d whiled away the evenings during lockdown shagging on the sofa; Jake coming home, stepping in front of the TV as he played Forza on the Xbox with his friends, then Jake eagerly pulling down his shorts and sucking on his coke-can thick cock.

He watched as a reality rewrote itself. Their breakup never happening. Jake never leaving for Dubai. The lamp remaining hidden in the sands. The pair of them fucking their way through the coronavirus outbreak to this very moment. Jake lying on their double bed, Marcus forcing his way in deeper and deeper.

Jake groaned beneath him. “More!” He cried.

Marcus’ thighs and arse flexed as he thrust as far as he can into the slim body beneath him. Jake’s slick arse essentially sucking the penis in as far as it could.

“Oh shit, Jake… it’s like your cheeks were made for my thick dick.” He grumbled as he slides out and shoves back in again. No resistance, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh, that’s it! Breed me, you fucking beast.” Jake erotically squealed before Marcus forced his head into the pillow and picked up the pace. To an outside viewer, it might look like Marcus was mercilessly fucking Jake, with no regard to the smaller man’s pleasure; but every single stroke pushed and prodded against his prostate causing jolts of pleasure for both of them.

Jake started moaning. Rocking his hips in time with Marcus to deepen the impact of the muscle man’s thrusts; the pair getting lost in the action. Sweat flooding across their bodies as they vigorously and forcefully gyrated into each other in sync.

Marcus was ramming into the smaller man beneath him, making him flail around like a rag doll, thrashing into him like a wild animal. The heat between the two rising steadily to the point of no return. Marcus fired into Jake; volley after volley of hot, thick, potent cum. Flooding his insides and drowning his mind.

The two began to giggle as they caught their breath. The aftershocks of their orgasms causing Marcus’ thoughts to become hazy. Jake continued to chuckle as he rolled out from underneath the muscular top.

“What?” Marcus smiled at Jake. “What is it?”

“This.” Jake replied. “It’s so perfect.” He panted.

“It really is.” Marcus grinned, kissing him softly on the lips.

We're nearly at the end now; I want to thank each and every reader for coming along and cumming along on this journey with me. As a new writer, your encouragement and support has been so, so valuable. Thank you again. HL

Wow! wonderful and well written chapter, already looking forward to the next

[hunklover]

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 16 - "The End of the Beginning - AKA 'The End' "

“What?” Marcus smiled at Jake. “What is it?”

“This.” Jake replied. “It’s so perfect.” He panted.

“It really is.” Marcus grinned, kissing him softly on the lips.

As their kiss ended, Jake giggled to himself once again; sounding happy and carefree at first, but the longer it continued, the darker and more twisted it began to sound.

“What?” Marcus asked, his tone becoming more concerned. He jabbed Jake in the stomach playfully, but at the same time trying to break his laughter. “Seriously, J… what?”

Jake turned to Marcus and grinned a cruel, unfamiliar smile. “You really think it would’ve turned out like this?”

Marcus didn’t know how to answer the question. Simply because he didn’t understand it. “You’ve lost me, Jake.”

Jake laughed again and wound his hands behind his head. “On the one hand, it’d almost be sweet.” He snorted. “If it weren’t so pathetic.”

Marcus looked at Jake blankly. He knew he should be taking offence at Jake’s words, but he genuinely didn’t understand what his boyfriend was saying.

Jake continued. “I give you the one thing you’ve been craving your entire life; the one thing that damaged your self-worth, crushed your body-image and destroyed your confidence. I gift to you the one thing that you believe has had the most profound negative impact on your life, and what do you do?”

Marcus blinked.

“You imagine your life to be pretty much exactly the same as it was before.” Jake burst into mocking laughter.

“I don’t get it, Jake. And I don’t like it.” Marcus anxiously replied.

From outside the bedroom door, a series of loud barks began to ring through the apartment.

“OH! You brought the dog with you?!” Jake roared with laughter again. “Merging the timelines in quite a messy way there, but I appreciate the effort!”

Marcus genuinely had no concept of what Jake was talking about. He was talking in riddles and making no sense. He yelled towards the living room “Quiet Hope!”.

Jake shifted positions so that he was straddling Marcus. “Let me have a go at playing this little game. Hmmmm.” He thought for a second. “I know!” He leaned in close to Marcus. “Oh Marc, baby… remember our Wedding Day?” he continued, raising Marcus’ hand so it was in front of their faces.

A look of confusion flashed across the muscular man’s face, then melted away as a solid gold band formed around his ring finger. “Of course, J… how could I forget that?!” The images of the two of them on a sun dappled, Caribbean beach, dressed in white linen, surrounded by friends and family filled his mind. He smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

Jake simply exploded into laughter again; for some reason he’d found what Marcus had just said hilarious.

“Marc! MARC! Remember how smoothly the adoption process went?!” He loudly declared, his eyes wide and wild.

“…no?” Marcus replied. Seconds later a scratching sound emanated from the baby monitor on the bedside table.

“Daddy? Papa? Beckfast please?” the young voice asked through the device.

“I’ll go.” Marcus said, removing himself from the bed, wrapping his silk robe around him and heading to the bedroom door. As he reached for the handle, it collapsed into sand in his fingers. He shot it a confused and alarmed look, then turned to face Jake who was walking towards him. A menacing look on his face. He raised the handful of sand to show Jake, who merely continued chuckling to himself. “The door, it just…” He turned back to the door to find that it simply wasn’t there anymore. The wall was smooth, without any sign of there ever being an opening there, he ran his hands against the wall. Jake closed the gap between them, clasped his hands together and breathed in deeply through his nose. He looked Marcus up and down, as if he were assessing every inch of him.

“What’s going on, J?” Marcus nervously smiled.

“A whole lifetime of anxiety, self-loathing, depression and sexual inadequacy wiped away… and THIS is the best you can think of?” Jake quietly scolded the man before him.

Marcus couldn’t tare his eyes of Jake. But he still couldn’t comprehend what he meant. “I don’t… WHAT?!”

“Clearly someone’s never watched ’The Butterfly Effect’.” Jake whispered, his mouth millimetres away from Marcus’ ear as he wrapped his hand around the elephantine dick. “You change one variable… you change everything.”

Marcus shuddered as his overstimulated cock head was being teased. He groaned aloud.

“With THIS, you could have done anything… you could have been anyone.” Jake continued stroking. With his other hand, he snapped his fingers. The room shifted into a series of flashing lights and a flurry of attractive people. “You could have been a model….” he snapped his fingers again, the space now filled with a series of young, slim, twinks who were all kneeling around the pair of them reaching up to caress Marcus’ legs - cameras dotted all around. “You could have been a porn legend.”

A smile flashed across Marcus’ face, there was something deeply enjoyable about being the subject of everyone’s desire.

“Heck, with all that confidence and charisma flooding through your body… you could have ruled the world.” Jake continued snapping his fingers; Marcus was now stood before a roaring crowd of adoring fans and press; clad in a fine designer suit. He looked behind him to see that he was stood in front of no. 10 Downing Street.

Jake, now clad in a similar black suit stepped from being beside Marcus to being in front of him. “But let’s be honest… these realities… they’re just as unlikely as the one you created for us.” He said, snapping his fingers once more. The world around the pair began to dissolve into pillars of sand, blowing away and disappearing until the pair were stood naked, facing each other in an endless black void.

“What… is… this?” Marcus whispered. The words echoing around the space as an almost deafening volume.

“Reality.” Jake replied bluntly. “Ready to be shaped and formed into whatever it needs to be.”

Marcus tried to comprehend everything he was seeing… or more to the point, wasn’t. He tried to find the words to explain his emotions or thoughts, but nothing came. He was speechless.

“So, let’s talk about the most likely outcome, shall we?” Jake maliciously grinned cupping Marcus’ chin with a hand. Marcus said nothing.

Jake took a step back, and looked at Marcus from top to toe. “You’re 13 when puberty first kicks in, and you go from having a worm to having an anaconda. School continues pretty much as it ever would, you’re not the brightest guy in the world; but you’re not an idiot. Are you?”

Marcus shook his head vigorously.

“But then one night, after swim practice, you notice just how much bigger you are than all the other guys. That sense of pride, the looks of adoration and envy - you know what you’ve got and you like that they know it too. It’s not long until you’re hitting Canal Street, tight t-shirt, tight jeans : you’re showing off everything you are to anyone who cares to look. Soon, a string of guys have let you plow and fuck them senseless; it takes barely any effort for you to ensnare anyone you want to choke on your dick or fuck all night. So you decide to take the easy route; over and over and over again. With a knob like yours, you don’t need to work hard for men, they should think themselves lucky to have you. Nights at the gym, get replaced with nights at the bars, clubs and saunas. Your tight clothing becomes tighter still. You struggle to fit into your favourite jeans, but no matter - you’ll just buy a new pair, and larger t-shirts and bigger jackets. In the space of a few years you’ve gone from a slim swimmers build, to a thick, flabby mess… thank fuck for that thick, long cock of yours, ay?”

Marcus looks down; his previously fit, firm body is covered in a thick layer of fat. His previously impressive chest and arms have lost all the hard-won bulk he’d managed to amass over the years; even his neatly trimmed body and pubic hair had become unruly.

“Without a hope of modelling or training anyone in fitness; I mean… come on, how could you? You lean in to the one thing you’re good at… gaming. Hours spent in front of the TV, your computer and phone sharpened your reflexes; but softened your body further… not to mention your eyes.”

Marcus’ vision became indistinct and unclear. In a flash, a pair of glasses wrapped around his face and he could once again see. But he wish he couldn’t. His body had ballooned in fat; stretch marks littered his stomach, arse and legs. He was slick with sweat and as he moved his head to survey his body, a thick brush of his beard irritated his chest.

“You win a few tournaments; make a few quid and it’s enough to get you your own place.”

The blackness around them begins to warp and distort… it begins to solidify into a modest, little apartment; empty fast food boxes, discarded energy drinks and dirty clothes litter almost every surface.

“But no-one’s coming back here, you decide. So you head back out to the clubs, the bars and sauna. And there are some guys who look your way - those who’ve got a thing for abusing chunky dudes like you… but your greatest asset… your greatest weapon is buried. Hidden forever under rolls of flab. So you sit there, alone, nursing a JD and coke, waiting; hoping.”

Marcus felt the ice-cold glass materialise in his hands, he looks around to see a club full of hot, young things. Each an every one of them enjoying themselves, having the time of their lives.

“And then, you spot someone you think you know… a face you somehow recognise.”

Marcus raised his head from his drink and looked up towards the bar. Standing there, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, was a young, slim guy with mousy brown hair. The pair locked eyes for a moment.

“You give him a smile.”

Marcus smiled warmly at Jake.

“And he…”

Jake turned to the young man next to him and whispered in his ear. The two then looked over at Marcus and then burst into laughter.

“…does what everyone else does.”

The handsome gentleman dropped into the seat opposite Marcus.

“This. This is the most likely reality for you.” He said.

It took a second for Marcus to process what he’d heard. Marcus looked at his body; the way it pulled against the fabric of his shirt; the way he uncomfortably squeezed into the seat underneath him. The two locked eyes and said nothing for a moment as the pumping bass of the club continued. Suddenly, it was silenced.

“Fortunately, this is just one reality.” The handsome stranger stated. He snapped his fingers; and a blinding flash of light filled Marcus’ vision. His mind ached and his body became sore all over.

The pair were once again stood facing each other, on stage, in Alconbury.

Marcus’ mind swam. It tried to process the experience he’d just endured. Over the course of a few minutes - he’d lived  6 different lifetimes; and the fragments of each fought to solidify into what was real and what wasn’t. He had genuine and legitimate memories of climbing the political ladder, travelling the globe as a supermodel, fucking the world’s collection of gay porn stars, marrying Jake, being morbidly obese… these thoughts crashed into each other and created a head-splitting cocktail of confusion.

“Everybody has the power to control their own universe, Marcus. Everybody.” Jake and Jafar stated with conviction.

“No.” Marcus replied. “They don’t.”

“What?” Jafar and Jake replied.

“If the whole world is enslaved to you. None of us have any power - you hold all the cards and we may as well not exist.” Marcus defiantly said.

There was silence.

“You’re right.” The pair stated. The crowd in front of them looked at the scene unfolding. “MY power allows me to do whatever I desire with this, and, every other reality.” They grinned. “Which means, no matter how much freedom you may have; no matter how close you get to vanquishing me, preventing me, defeating me… ultimately, each and every single one of you is powerless.”

“Yes.” Marcus dejectedly stated.

“But… I’d like to see you try.” Jake and Jafar smiled, snapping their fingers once again.

————————————————————

Across the planet; humanity awoke from its collective slumber. Men regained control of their bodies and minds simultaneously. Some were repulsed at the actions they were caught in the middle of, others beheld and marvelled at the ways in which their bodies had changed, enhanced and perfected, others looked to the world around them; near post-apocalyptic.

Sat upon his throne in Dubai, the glowing red deity enjoyed the sexual efforts of his willing and eager slaves, granted autonomy to please him in new and exciting ways. Elsewhere, the nations of earth gained awareness of their existence, and how it had been brought to its knees at the hands of Jafar. Panic, fear and revulsion initially gripped the world; but then as the initial shock wore off - plans began to formulate, ideas and concepts were shared. The men of earth who had never chosen to become playthings to the self-declared God wanted one thing.

Revenge.

The Revenge of Jafar.

[cregssatx]

Wow.  Excellent ending, hunklover!  The whole story has been a wonderful experience!

[hunklover]

6 hours ago, cregssatx said:

Wow.  Excellent ending, hunklover!  The whole story has been a wonderful experience!

Thank you, glad you enjoyed it.

[fasdr3w333fsd33]

I just desire we may want to always be together.” I tenderly answered. And then a look of shock flashed across my face. As quickly as the words had left my mouth, I yearned with a purpose to scoop them lower back inside best guide… however it become too overdue.

[hunklover]

3 hours ago, fasdr3w333fsd33 said:

I just desire we may want to always be together.” I tenderly answered. And then a look of shock flashed across my face. As quickly as the words had left my mouth, I yearned with a purpose to scoop them lower back inside best guide… however it become too overdue.

....yes?

 

Yes.

 

Definitely.