m/m Transformation Part I: Mutation - Chapter Eleven

[Fulano]

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

Previous Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2642-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-ten/

 

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Hank lived in an old three-story firehouse on a brick-paved street in Tribeca. He had purchased the narrow brick building three years ago and I had helped him gut and build out the interior. We removed the front half of the second floor and rebuilt the back as a loft/bedroom, while the third floor became a lounge and entertainment space with steps leading up to a rooftop deck and garden. The basement held his personal gym.

 

The conversion took us a year but the end result was well worth the effort. He was so grateful for my help that he offered to rent the top floor to me, which was at least twice the size of my studio, at my current rent but I passed. Now it looked like he got me after all.

 

My bed for the night was the stained and polished concrete slab floor of the ground level. Matt had slept with me, actually on me, the entire night. He was on his side with his crotch pressed into my erect and continuously leaking cock while his head rested on my pecs.

 

“Are you comfortable?” he asked me in the middle of the night after taking a leak.

 

“Perfectly,” I said. I was beginning to believe that it was no longer possible for me to even feel uncomfortable, at least physically.

 

“You know, it’s a bit creepy that you don’t breathe,” he said.

 

“No kidding.”

 

Within seconds, he had fallen fast asleep again.

 

I, on the other hand, wasn’t the least bit tired. I just lay there on the cool concrete and listened to Hank’s soft snoring in the loft upstairs and Matt’s barely perceptible breathing while wondering what to do next. The big questions were not easily answered.

 

How does one declare himself god? Was I really meant to save the world by taking over and dominating the planet? Or did I exist to give people someone real to worship or feel submissive to so they wouldn’t behave like selfish brats? How actively should I involve myself in world affairs?

 

Perhaps the more important question was – did I really want to dominate the world and be worshipped? But short of moving to Antarctica or the bottom of the sea, it didn’t seem like I had a choice. Once anyone saw me, it was all over.

 

Everyone wants to feel appreciated and loved, but continuously worshipped?

 

Smaller questions were easier. Would Terry’s analysis of my cum reveal anything useful? How long would Carlos remain in the hospital? Would I be able to fuck him again? Was Matt going to go back to Cleveland and his former life? Was it self-centered to imagine that he would rather stay with me?

 

The light of dawn crept in through the multi-pane windows at the front of the building and officially announced Friday morning. Neither of us had spoken of it, but Matt was scheduled to return home tomorrow. I lifted my head enough to see the dim light of morning reflected on his blond hair. I had known him for less than a week, but already I couldn’t imagine living without him. Not only had he shared my experience since the moment it began, but he was smart, playful, loyal, got along well with Hank, and perhaps most importantly of all, understood me like no one else.

 

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered.

 

He stirred. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me to stay. I know it’s only been five days, but I love you.”

 

“I didn’t know you were awake.”

 

He sat up and straddled my great thighs as best he could, facing me. “Only for a few minutes. I was thinking about how warm you are.” He grinned contentedly and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my cock. It throbbed powerfully at his touch and cum began to spurt from the piss slit. I again felt as if I were having an orgasm without actually having one. “It’s like a cum fountain,” he said.

 

I smiled. “It is pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Despite the fact that it seemed to have a mind of its own, the pleasure the mammoth tool gave me was indescribable.

 

“It was magnificent on Sunday and now it’s infinitely more so,” Matt said quietly. “You were magnificent on Sunday and now you are infinitely more so. But I don’t care if you are Jamal the man or Jamal the god. I want to be with you.”

 

I stood and took him in my arms without letting him touch the floor. I then carried him up the stairs to the third level and set him down on the shag rug between the long sofas, both of which were positioned perpendicularly to the front windows. The room was lit only by the early dawn sky and the light of a street lamp that streamed through the three multi-paned windows. He stretched out and smiled. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

“This,” I said as I knelt down on my hands and knees and kissed my way up his erect penis to his defined abdominal muscles. “And this.” I continued kissing up between his furry pecs and neck until I reached his beautiful bearded face and soft lips. I gently drove my tongue into his mouth, which he began sucking eagerly as he reached up and explored my beard and face with curious hands.

 

I pulled back and turned my attention to his leaking cock. “And finally, this.” And taking his rock hard tool in my mouth, easily swallowed the long shaft, twirling my tongue around it and carefully sucking.

 

“WHOA!” He gasped. “Oh my god! No one has ever been able to do that! WOW!” He actually began laughing, which quickly turned into euphoric grunts. “Ugh ... UGH...” Already he came and his big cock throbbed noticeably in my mouth and throat as he pumped his load into my stomach or whatever was down there now.

 

“Hey!” Hank’s voice came from downstairs. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

 

Unable to respond, I ignored him. I enjoyed feeling the length of Matt’s cock in my mouth and continued massaging it gently. I would never have been able to deep throat him when we met, let alone keep it down indefinitely, but it seemed becoming a god had several benefits beyond the obvious. He continued squirming and moaning as I heard Hank climb the stairs.

 

“You never suck me,” he said as he reached the top.

 

I sat up and wiped the moisture from my mouth with my forearm. “Yeah, ‘cause you never keep your legs down for more than two seconds.”

 

Hank shrugged. “We all have our priorities. Anyway, I’ve decided that we’re takin’ a road trip today.” He walked over and sat down on the sofa to my right. I watched as his dick flopped out through the fly of his boxer shorts. His body looked big, pumped. I had always admired the fullness of his muscle bellies.

 

I stared at him and raised my left eyebrow.

 

“If it pleases your godliness,” he added with an exaggerated flourish.

 

“I’m so happy right now I’d do anything you wanted,” I said. “Matt is planning to stay with me.”

 

“I have to share you?” Hank said. He looked genuinely disappointed but I knew better.

 

Matt sat up and put his arms behind him for support. “Where are we going?”

 

“Buchanan,” Hank said.

 

Matt looked at him. “Where is Buchanan?”

 

“What’s in Buchanan?” I asked.

 

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “Come on, Matt. Let’s shower and go rent us a van.”

 

Matt turned to me for approval.

 

“You better get,” I said. “He gets cranky when he doesn’t get his way.”

 

“What are you going to do?” Matt asked.

 

I stood up, grasped my massive cock and smiled. “You got me all worked up so I just made a date with my reflection.”

 

*  *  *

 

It was ten in the morning by the time we left Manhattan. The van Hank rented didn’t have any windows in back, so I passed the time playing with Matt’s iPhone, which taught me two things about my new self. One, my thumbs were too large to effectively use it, and two; I could easily see the individual pixels. My vision had become much sharper.

 

My hearing didn’t seem any better though. I could hear Matt and Hank chatting away at the front of the van, but couldn’t make out what they were saying over the road noise.

 

After around an hour of driving north, we stopped in Ossining, a town on the Hudson south of Buchanan, so the two of them could have lunch. This time I surfed the net on Hank’s larger Droid, which was a bit more forgiving of my fat fingers. I resisted searching for information on Buchanan, but I did find yet more videos and photographs of myself at various stages of growth over the past five days.

 

As Mark had predicted, the images and movies of me had been picked up by the popular media, but I didn’t find any indication that I had been identified. Yet.

 

I could hear my companions talking as they approached the van. Hank had asked Matt how long he had been vegetarian, who responded, “Since I was 18,” before launching into a passionate explanation as to why.

 

“My issue isn’t with eating meat,” he said as they opened the doors and climbed in. “It’s with the cruelty of the food industry. Factory farms torture animals from birth to death. What these people do is unspeakable and invisible to the general public. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about it. Not to mention how inefficient meat is nutritionally, especially beef. It’s a huge waste of land and water compared to plant-based foods.”

 

I watched as Hank shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “I don’t eat much red meat.”

 

“None of my business,” Matt said. I saw him reach over and put his hand on Hank’s enormous thigh. “Lecture over.”

 

Hank covered Matt’s hand with his own. I couldn’t see their faces, but despite their occasional sparring, they were developing a bond. I was pleased, relieved, and as I searched my feelings, not at all jealous.

 

We continued north for another ten minutes or so until I heard Matt speak again. “The exit for 9A is coming up – Albany Post Road.”

 

I lay back on the floor of the van and stared at the roof. It was near noon on a Friday. A week ago at this time, I was an ordinary man at work looking forward to lunch and wondering what to do with his weekend. Now I was a newly minted god wondering what utterly impossible thing was going to happen next.

 

I stared at the roof of the vehicle and let my eyes lose focus. Except that the roof didn’t get blurry. Instead, it looked as if I were viewing something else entirely. I refocused and roof of the van was back. I relaxed my eyes again and the alternate image returned.

 

It appeared something like the night sky or one of those pictures from a radio telescope – then I immediately knew what it was. “Hey guys!” I called out as I moved forward. “I can see the sun!”

 

“Okay, turn left here,” I heard Matt say. He had apparently taken over as navigator. “Yeah, Indian Point Road.” I refocused and watched him turn back to look at me. “What do you mean you can see the sun? So can we.”

 

I pointed up and relaxed my eyes. “I can see the sun through the roof – like with radio waves or X-rays or something. It’s beautiful. There’s a lot of other stuff, but this really bright object I’m looking at must be the sun.”

 

Matt continued looking at me. I refocused again and watched his eyes glaze over. “God, I can’t wait to worship you again,” he said.

 

“Hey!” Hank said. He prodded Matt with his fist. “Pay attention. Now where?”

 

Matt turned away and shook his head. “Sorry. Hold on,” he said as he consulted his iPhone. “Left again on Broadway.”

 

They continued talking but I tuned them out and looked around with my new eyes. The sun was intensely bright overhead, but there were points of light and glows everywhere in different shades and patterns. I looked down at myself and could see nothing – or more accurately, I was completely black. Featureless. A silhouette. I held my hand out in front of my face. It was a jet-black shadow in front of a riot of color.

 

I began to realize that most of the objects were more or less stationary, but off to the right were two small but distinct glowing points that were moving slowly, as if we were driving by them at a distance.

 

“Matt,” I said. “What is immediately to our right?”

 

“Countryside – trees, grass, a chain link fence with razor wire.”

 

“No, beyond that. Maybe half a mile away.”

 

“I can’t see that far. There’s a berm or hill with more trees in the way.”

 

“The power plant,” Hank called back. “The Indian Point nuclear power plant. That’s the surprise. It’s almost lunchtime for God.”

 

“I’m not God,” I said even as my powerful cock surged to life in anticipation of feeding from a gigawatt power source.

 

“I don’t remember me askin’ your opinion,” Hank said to me. “Do you?”

 

 

Hank, Terry and his boyfriend Maxim exited the cab onto 44th Street and ran across to the theatre. Terry had bought tickets to Into the Woods for the four of us for Hank’s birthday but ended up working late at the hospital. I paid the cab driver and checked my watch. We had five minutes.

 

I looked to my left, paused to let an oncoming car pass, and ran across to join them in the pool of light beneath a streetlamp.

 

“Hey!” A cop called out. I looked up to see him pointing at me. “Let’s see your ID, buddy,” he said as he approached. He was Italian and not bad looking.

 

I handed him my license. My heart pounded in my chest – not from nervousness, but I was anxious about missing the first act.

 

Hank looked at Terry. “You guys go on,” he said as he shooed them away. “We’ll meet you inside.”

 

“Yeah, I thought so,” the cop said as he examined my ID. His Brooklyn accent was even stronger than Hanks. The cop looked across the busy sidewalk at his partner. “Hey Frankie!” He called out. “C’mere. We got an ‘Al’.”

 

An Al-Bakri, to be exact, I thought, suddenly furious. “What’s the problem?” I asked.

 

He leaned toward me until his face was inches from mine. “That problem is that all of you sand niggers should have been shipped back to the desert you came from,” he said. “I lost some good buddies when you people flew them planes into the trade center.”

 

My mind filled with rage. I could feel myself shaking. “I was born in Dearborn, Michigan,” I said. My voice was trembling. “I grew up in San Jose, California.”

 

“Yeah?” The Italian cop challenged. “Can ya prove it?”

 

“What did he do wrong, officer?” Hank asked.

 

“He jaywalked,” the cop said.

 

“It’s New Yawk,” Hank said, fully unleashing his accent. “Everybody jaywalks.”

 

The cop turned to Hank. “I don’t remember me askin’ your opinion. Do you?”

 

It turned out that he and Hank had grown up in the same neighborhood and gone to the same schools, which was probably all that saved me from further harassment. He finally wrote me a ticket for jaywalking and let us go, but it was too late to see the first act. I was still shaking with rage and paced back and forth in front of the theatre. “You know my dad’s mom was an enrolled Apache,” I said to Hank. “You can’t get much more American than that and everyone’s giving me crap about how I look? About my name because my grandma married a Syrian? My dad was even born here. When did this country get so fucking racist?”

 

Hank put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey hey hey. It’s okay now. I’m here with you,” he said. “You ain’t said nothin’ before about people givin’ you shit about your name.”

 

“It’s just stupid shit. Asking me if I know bin Laden. Calling me names – you know, camel jockey, sand nigger...” I pulled away from him and put my head in my hands. “Why are people so fucking stupid? I just. Don’t. Get it.”

 

“You don’t get it cuz you’re a good guy,” he said. He pulled me to him and kissed me. I could feel myself relax. I may have been the top, I may have been the decision maker, but Hank was still taller and much bigger and as he held me at that moment, his strength and support were exactly what I needed. “Come on, let’s get outta here. The night is young and the drinks are on Big Red.”

 

 

Next chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3706-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-twelve/

[Danke8864]

Can't wait to see how big he get's after feeding at that power plant. *licks lips...*

[NoloContendere]

This is absolutely one of my favorite stories. I can't get over how well it's written and how it evokes many layers of meaning.