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

[hunklover]

Okay then, let's see if I can make this work.

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 8 - "The Rise of Jafar"

It was almost impossible to believe how harshly and horrifically the change had crept across the land, but somehow the sun seemed to have faded - the exuberance and laughter that once echoed through the cities had quietened - the world had become a colder, darker place.

“But that’s exactly what happens every Autumn.” Marcus thought to himself, attempting to cheer his attitude. It may have been the dead of night, but he was wide awake. Taking advantage of being newly single, Marcus had attempted to regain control of his life: He’d signed with a modelling agency, taken on new personal training clients and even managed to bag himself a nice little apartment rental in one of the trendiest parts of the city.

He’d worked extremely hard to shift the flab he’d managed to accumulate during lockdown and once again sported his tight, washboard abs. Of all parts of his fit, well-exercised body, he was most proud of them and loved the way his tight, spandex compression shirt clung to his midriff and showed them off. Though at this precise moment, he wished he’d wrapped up in a hoodie at least - it was unseasonably cold.

The beauty of being a member of a 24 hour gym is that you could work out whenever you want. The beauty of working there is that you know when it’s quiet. Marcus hated being leered over by the middle-aged, chunky balls of fat he called his “clients”. He knew the reason they hired him, he knew the reason he was back in demand… he was shit hot and he knew it.

Still, Marcus hadn’t exactly planned on heading to the gym at twenty past 2 in the morning. After being jolted awake in his bed by an unpleasant, unimaginable and frankly unwanted dream, he couldn’t get back to sleep. For some reason, his subconscious had cooked up a shitstorm - as he lay, gently slumbering in his warm, comfy bed he began dreaming of a man he’d tried to put squarely to the back of his mind and keep in his past. The image of Jake, his ex-boyfriend slowly walking towards him became pin sharp in his dreams.

With each step he took, he seemed to become more and more perfect - he gained height, tanned from head to toe, his body lost the layer of fat he’d always had and became rippled with muscle. His teeth whitened as a huge warm smile appeared on them, his eyes seemed to sparkle, shine and spiral in the light and as he reached only a few footsteps away from Marcus, his clothes seemingly disintegrated leaving him bare to the world- his now foot long cock and tennis-ball sized testicles demanding attention. “I’ve waited so long to be with you.” Jake panted in a sultry manner, and held out his preparing for an embrace, and in the dream, Marcus had mirrored his actions, and then Jake walked straight through Marcus - towards an unknown target. Marcus watched his firm buttocks bounce as he walked beyond him, to something that his brain told him was pure evil. Glowing red and full of menace - like a demon.

He couldn’t exactly call it a nightmare - but coming face to face with Jake, even in a dream was not something Marcus ever wanted to do again. That prick had been so incredibly hurtful during their breakup - he could stand being called “work-shy”, “slobbish” and “lazy”; these were all things he knew he’d had to work hard to correct since they’d separated, but for Jake to tell him that Marcus had never really satisfied him hurt. It needled away at his one true insecurity; the reason he’d worked so hard to get into such impressive shape in the first place. Marcus was not blessed in the trousers department. Being generous, you might say he had a “couple of inches” to play with… but that was literally all. “Fucking, bastard.” Marcus muttered to himself as he punched his access code into the gym’s security panel. He felt just as angry as he had done 3 months ago. He put his AirPods in, fired up his Spotify “lifting mix” and headed for the weights.

Marcus was deep into his routine when it started. His eyes squeezed shut as he pushed hard on the chest press, focusing on matching his movements to the music in his head. If he’d been paying attention, if he’d been aware of anything but his own efforts, he’d have noticed when the few other patrons in the gym instantly froze in place - their eyes suddenly glazing over, their mouths hanging open; their minds becoming silent and open. The message was brief and direct - delivered at an instant in all languages to every man on earth. “Your lives as you knew them end now. Your one true God has risen. Worship me freely and be rewarded, or be enslaved for all eternity. There is no third choice.” Their minds then bombarded with imagery of a malevolent force wrapping over the earth; corrupting and consuming all the goodness the world had to offer. Instinctively, many tried to fight the demand that had been made of them; rejecting their new Lord and Master. But, there were those who didn’t need to be asked twice.

As Marcus finished his reps and opened his eyes, he looked at the gym in front of him. One of the wrinkled, retired men who’d been near the cardio machines was crouched on the floor, a small crowd around them. He furrowed his brow - as an employee of the gym he really should help, he removed his EarPods to a cacophony of panicked voices. “What the hell was that?!” “It can’t be true!” “Did you hear it too?” “One true God?” “There is no God!” “What did he mean?” “Who is he?” Marcus stepped over to the meagre crowd around the man, prone on the floor. He didn’t look to be in pain or injured - if anything because of his posture, it almost looked as if he were praying. “What the hell is going on?!” Marcus yelled, trying to cut through the chattering men’s voices. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” A slim, 40 something woman replied bluntly. Marcus crouched down to see if there was anything he could do to help the bloke nearest to him. As he lowered himself he looked into the man’s eyes. They were glowing bright yellow, with a hypnotic twist in the middle of them. Marcus was concerned - he literally had no idea what to do. He got back to his feet and looked down, scanning the gym and his mind to try to formulate a plan - in the corner, he spotted a young, early twenties man. His slim, undefined body was also on the floor in a crouched position. He quickly rushed over to check the boyish figure for injuries - his first thought being that somebody had spiked the water fountain - or some equally insane ‘prank’.

As he knelt next to the skeletal young man, the stranger raised his head to look at Marcus - his golden eyes locking onto Marcus’ own. “I have seen his face. I now know his glory. I live to serve my master forever. He is life.” A ripple of golden smoke consumed the man, starting at his feet and circling his torso and limbs. As it reached his arms, it wrapped around his forearms and solidified into a pair of completely unbroken gold bracers. “I am his, for all eternity”. From under the bracers, red skin seemed to flow up the mans arms and down into his fingers. Intricate woven tattoos seemed to rapidly coat the man’s body and where they grew, solid mounds of powerful muscle followed. Within seconds, the frail, pitiful figure beside Marcus was being replaced by a career bodybuilder.

Marcus placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to see if that could get his attention, but when he did, the flesh below his fingertips felt painfully hot to touch. He watched as the stranger’s clothes burnt away, replaced with two nipple rings, a chain running between them. The man’s face seemed, to collapse into itself. His cheekbones sharpening, his nose straightening, his lips plumping and skin losing any signs of the acne it’d once had. In less than a minute, he’d become an adonis - and from the open, drooling smile on his face, he seemed to be enjoying every one of those 60 seconds. Between his legs, a salami sized penis was hanging above a pair of thick, plumb sized balls. He was erect and ready for action. Marcus stood once more, he looked over to where the older man had been on the floor. In his place, was the most delicious, perfectly toned twink the world had ever seen. His arse was like two silk covered volleyballs - ready to be slapped and played with. Wrapped around his neck was a red tattoo that looked like a slave collar, it flowed down his back and wrapped around his perky pecs as if it were a slave harness made out of red skin.

Marcus was attempting to make sense of the bizarre metamorphosis the two men had experienced when they both began to raise up off the carpeted gym floor. Floating about 4 foot from the ground, both men called out together “I am his, for all eternity!” once again, before being yanked through the ceiling as if they were human cannonballs. The gym being instantly coated in plaster, dust, timber and other building detritus. Marcus rushed to the emergency exit, charging his way through it and out onto the street. The warm, spiced air hitting him as if it were a brick wall in stark contrast to the air conditioned gym he’d just burst out of. He looked to the sky, floating overhead was a collection of muscular, toned, handsome, perfect men, soaring as if they were Dreamliners heading to a faraway land. He tried to focus on the starry sky, to pick out the details of the men flying overhead, but as he did, they became obscured by the lightest layer of red mist. In the very far distance, Marcus swore he could hear the faintest deep, rumbling, howling laughter.

[hunklover]

The Revenge of Jafar: Chapter 9 - "The First Wave"

Marcus stood staring into the sky as more and more men, in various states of undress flew overhead towards an unknown target. His head swam, trying to make sense of it all -  was this some form of alien invasion? A secret government program to create super-humans? Whatever it was, he literally had no idea what to do next.

As he continued to look upwards, his attention was drawn down towards the street - an attractive woman in her 20s, wrapped in a white, cotton bathrobe and barefoot was yelling “Andy?! Andy?!!”. She rushed over to Marcus, panic and desperation peppered her expression. “Have you seen my husband? Andy? Andrew Cole. He was just out on the balcony, smoking and now he’s… gone?” Marcus looked at her, as tears formed in her eyes. He looked back up to the swarm of red clouds that were gathering above - he couldn’t be sure where Andy had disappeared to, but he could hazard a pretty good guess.

As he began to form the words to explain to her where he thought her partner may have gone, she disappeared into the night, braying Andy’s name as loudly as she could. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Marcus thought to himself, and quickly headed for home. He reached into his pocket for his phone, trying to get some news about what in the world was happening… to the world… but he had no service. Not a single app would update. He put the phone into Airplane mode, and back again… but it made no difference. There was simply nothing to connect to.

As he quickly rounded the corner to his apartment building, he stopped. A beautiful grey and white Siberian Husky puppy looked desperately, in all directions for her owner, her lead trailing behind her as she nervously walked back and forth, yipping and barking in confusion. Marcus eyed her, with curiosity. “Who would abandon such a friendly, young dog?” he thought to himself - already concluding that her owner may have been another of those ‘spirited away’. As he re-entered his compact, but stylish studio apartment, he reached for the remote for his TV and flicked through the channels. Every single one simply returned static.
He reached for his laptop, fear now beginning to rise through his very being - whatever was happening was either being suppressed by every media outlet at the same time, or had managed to knock out communications across the city… maybe the country… maybe the world. He clicked the BBC News link on his shortcuts, the cursor pinwheeled…. and nothing happened. He set the laptop down on the coffee table.

Marcus began to pace - a thing that’s hard to do in an apartment as small as his: “Okay, it’s the middle of the night. So the network engineers won’t be able to respond to whatever this is immediately.” He said out loud, trying to quieten his mind that had now fallen into near complete hysteria. “Besides… the…. I mean..” He simply couldn’t rationalise what he’d witnessed just moments ago. Either vocally or mentally. He’d never been a religious man, never had use for God in his life, but years previous he’d been gifted a tacky tea-towel from a friend in a “Secret Santa” party Jake had arranged. The towel was retrieved from the kitchen drawer and he placed it on his bed, hoping to calm his mind - it had a picture of Jesus, attached to the cross by his hands and feet - the image of his crucifixion and a visual representation of his sacrifice for the planet. His gifter had casually defaced the fabric, scrawling the words “JESUS IS CUMMING” in grafitti lettering on the top, and, adding definition to his muscles in Sharpie that the original artist had never intended.

Marcus closed his eyes and began to pray, to a God he’d never truly believed in, for some sort of salvation or resolution to this horrific, fear-inducing chain of events. In that instant the power in his apartment shut off.  The world outside going eerily dark and silent. Then, the sky illuminated as if in mid-daylight, the light pouring into Marcus’ apartment. But something was off. The sky above was blood red and even - the sun nowhere to be seen… the moon missing too. Marcus rushed to the window, the street below was illuminated in a sickly crimson glow - as was the rest of the city. He swallowed hard, a feeling of true despair washing over him as he could see his neighbours and fellow city dwellers being roused by the premature sun-rise, taking to their windows and balconies. He tried to take a deep breath - but the sound wobbled in his throat, he legitimately felt as if her here on the verge of bursting into tears.

Slumping onto his hed/sofa he cradled his head in his hands, trying to make sense of it all. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. Before his eyes, the tea-towel began to unstitch itself - almost as if it were being picked apart by a collection of invisible hands. Then, as quickly as it had unravelled, it began to reform - the image of  two golden glowing eyes surrounded by the most wonderfully beautiful face. A thick, twisted beard and a plume of jet black hair, below his head an unbelievable figure appeared. The ripped definition of a pro-athlete blended with the muscular development of a career power-lifter. His rippling muscles flowing towards his baguette sized cock which itself sat atop two gigantic balls. From head to toe he exuded power, his face fixed in a constant smirk, his skin ruby red. The previously hand-drawn lettering had changed and in its place the words appeared one by one in intricate stitching.
“JAFAR”
“IS”
“HERE”.

————————————————————

It had been less than 5 seconds since Majid’s mouth had poured out those four glorious words. “I wish you free”.
Well, 5 seconds to us mere mortals, but to Jafar, ‘time’, much like the rest of reality, had become yet another of their toys to play with.

In the period since the wish had been granted, Jafar’s powers had started to become magnified in ways even they were unable to comprehend. Their combined brain tried to process his ability to see time, taste emotions and the other bombardment of sensations his body was being wracked with. The scale of his supremacy was maddening - the pure, unadulterated possibility to do whatever he desired, erase it and start again without consequence. It dawned on them that man was never supposed to command such pure, unrestricted arcane power. Thankfully, he was no longer a man.

From the outside, it looked to Majid that Jafar was simply stood in place, eyes closed, meditating on his new freedom. But in actuality, he now existed on all planes, at all times… he was experiencing the birth of the universe and the scale of the multiverse simultaneously. He bore witness to the seemingly endless parallel worlds that existed… each one a new playground for him to wreak delicious havoc on. But first, he had the whole of earth to exert his control over.

Jafar’s eyes flashed open, he looked down to the bracers that had sealed his face as a slave all those years ago. He smiled wildly as they began to dissolve as if made from sand. He chuckled momentarily, which grew to a snicker, then suddenly increased into a booming, mad cackle. His body began to expand in all directions; Majid forcefully rammed into the wall of the throne room as Jafar burst through the ceiling - only able to survive as he had been gifted unearthly resilience from Jafar’s mighty ejaculate.

“Yessss.” Jafar erotically groaned as his body took on more and more mass. “YEEEEEEEEEES!” He cried, his body bursting through the glass and concrete facade of the hotel that surrounded him; his fearsome, razor clawed feet sinking gracefully onto the ground below. The sky surrounding his ferocious figure lit up in scarlet clouds and his entire body began to be struck with lightening, his arousal peaking and becoming evident to the world around him. “FINALLY” he sighed. “ALL OF CREATION IS MINE, TO COMMAND, TO CONTROL, TO CORRUPT.” He moaned. His penis firing a Herculean load of his magma hot spunk onto the cowering crowd that had gathered below, some drowned, unable to escape the tidal wave of jazz that flooded the streets. Others bathed in it, scooped it up to their mouths and glugged it down; finding their bodies becoming perfected as they did - their minds emptying at the same time.

Jafar found the visage highly entertaining, the two minds agreeing that this was just the beginning, and that it was time the rest of the world to share in the fun. Jafar opened a mental connection to every conscious man on the planet. His message clear and simple. “Your lives as you knew them end now. Your one true God has risen. Worship me freely and be rewarded, or be enslaved for all eternity. There is no third choice.”

————————————————————

Fear. Repulsion. Arousal. Confusion. Dread. Panic. Hopelessness. They all battled inside of Marcus for control, but none of them won. Instead they swirled together in the front of Marcus’ mind and in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to rush to the kitchenette sink and vomit. As he wiped the sick from his mouth, he looked again out of the window to the road below - what he saw made him rush out of the door and down to the street.

Every woman in the neighbourhood was seemingly walking in unison, as if guided by some invisible magnet. Their eyes clouded and dull, ignoring everything around them. It was clear some of the marching women had been unprepared for this; they were in various stages of undress; some completely nude, some wet as if in the middle of showering and one was being desperately followed by a man who was pleading with her. “Please Kate, please talk to me! Where are you going? What’s going on?” Marcus heard as they both rushed past him.

“What the fuck is this?” He heard himself say aloud. His mouth seemingly working faster than his brain. Just then, the streetlights flickered on and off again - he heard the sounds of electronic devices - air conditioners, alarm systems, parking meters beeping back into life. He caught eyes with an older gentleman across the street who had clearly stepped outside in his sleepwear of choice - boxers and an undershirt. He seemed as utterly bemused by everything as Marcus was. Abruptly, his attention was snapped away by the barrage of vibrations and chirps his phone was making - dozens of messages flooding to his phone at the same time. He reached into his pocket to retrieve it and let out an annoyed grunt when he saw the screen was a garbled mess of bright, golden static, no matter what he did to it. He raised his eyes back to the man across the street; he too had had his phone in his hand and now seemed fixated on it.

Marcus looked around, every man left on the street seemed to be caught in the grip of their phones. He looked to the large electronic billboard at the end of the road - frequently covered in commercials for accident help lines or discounted Subway sandwich offers, but it too showed the same jumble of digital static his phone had. Beneath it, a small crowd of men had formed - each of them staring at the billboard that hung high above them. Their mouths open, tongues lolled to one side.

Marcus looked back to the man across the street who now sported the same expression, but between his legs, his pecker stood proudly, having poked its way through the button fly of his burst-crotch boxers. Instinctively, Marcus looked away and caught site of a blonde, mid-30s man, whose eyes were fixed on his smart watch. He stood unblinking, his brain seemingly scrambled, and yet is porksword was poking out of his pyjamas.

Marcus slowly retreated towards the doorway of his apartment complex - now certain that his neighbourhood had become home to a collection of stupefied, sexual zombies. He stepped back inside and closed the door behind him, mentally scrambling for a plan.

[ibron888]

Finally Lord and Master Jafar is now omniscient and omnipotent, easily controlling the minds, souls and hearts of billions. It just takes my breath away to read about it. Please, continue! 

[idealmuscle]

Really well crafted. Thank you for doing this.

[hunklover]

Ideas are churning. I'll do my best.

[idealmuscle]

Look forward to reading the next chapter soon. 

[idealmuscle]

Any update on the next chapter? I'm hooked. 

[hunklover]

Hey there, I've decided to take a little break from writing - I will come back to it, but, I'll be honest, I'm just not feeling it.

[centipix]

On 8/3/2020 at 4:32 PM, hunklover said:

Hey there, I've decided to take a little break from writing - I will come back to it, but, I'll be honest, I'm just not feeling it.

Don't think anyone can complain about you taking a break. You've written a great story with even more chapters than you originally intended to! Loved this story! I really do believe that there aren't enough tales of characters becoming power-hungry godlike figures.

[lazer0100]

Yay finally, after all the years of wishing Jafar won!! Thanks!!