Description Pursuing a fantasy, a successful man hires an erotic partner who’s been augmented, but the kinds of pleasures his new lover can share with him are far beyond anything he’d imagined.
|Updated||13 Jan 2014|
Thing is? Walking in? He didn’t look all that impressive. I mean, sure, he looked fucking amazing as hell, but I’d seen better. All these so-called couture babies were growing up, and when your parents are hand-picking your vitals from a catalog, you’re bound to be good looking, right?
Still, there’s handsome and then there’s drop-dead gorgeous, and he easily fit into the latter category, but I still had my doubts about the whole thing, particularly when the money transfer went through and the dent in my bank account showed up. Who pre-pays for these things? I mean, I’ve had my share—maybe more than my share—of professional sex. Ever since it was legal, I’ve been a happy customer of some of the most talented, beautiful and fucking dirty-minded men in the world.
I can afford it, so what the hell, right?
Still, this guy came with quite a pedigree, not to mention some hard-to-believe claims that two of my own buddies were more than happy to acknowledge. “Don’t want to spoil him for you,” they said, grinning like schoolboys who just discovered the stash of porn mags in the garage. “But you’ll be satisfied.”
So here he was now, all six feet six inches of him. Again, I’d seen bigger. And, sure, I’d have to admit that the overall impression of his entrance was both impressive and a little staggering. He was clothed, or very nearly. He had the licenses for public nudity and public sex—I made sure that this place also had the requisite licenses—so there was really no reason for him to be, but I appreciated the conceit. I’d paid for him, after all. He really shouldn’t be giving any of it away for free, even if a look at his goods amounted to advertising. Plus, there was always the problem of an accidental bonding with someone else. Supposedly they’d fixed that with the pre-bonding DNA requirement that was now part of the contract, but a little caution never hurt.
I was sitting at my table near the back. Isolated, a bit, because one never knows what’s going to happen and even though I like a good, horny public romp as much as the next dude, unless I’m the one getting paid there’s no fucking way I’m putting on a show for anyone.
Watching him walk toward me was fun. He had a very good walk, like his hips were oiled. Oddly, his shoelaces were undone and dragged along the carpet. He had a hand on his crotch, as if he had to hold himself in or the fucking thing was going to rip itself free and start fucking the nearest ass. He walked slowly, taking off his jacket as he walked and then stripping a pair of sleek black leather gloves from his hands. His eyes were locked on me the whole time. I admit, it got my heart racing as his features became clearer and I got to watch the whole of his incredible body work across the darkened bar towards me.
“Hi,” I answered back, trying to sound nonchalant. My mouth had gone dry and I think I licked my lips. He smiled, then, and I felt like he knew he already had me—not that there was ever any doubt about who was in charge of the situation, even though I had initiated the meeting. Still, it was both disconcerting and a major turn-on for me to note his dominance without doing anything but walking in the room.
He was wearing an outfit that I had prescribed for him. Blue jeans, white t-shirt, Converse All Stars. The jeans hung low on his hips, and the shirt’s hem rode high, revealing a slim line of bared skin and a small, smiling naval. A slim vertical trail of dark curls ran a straight line through his evident abdominal bulges, hinting at the fullness of the furry bush crowning his glorious manhood. I could smell him very distinctly, the stink of his sweat and ass mingling with something else, something more refined, but no less enticing to me.
How he had managed to squeeze himself into his clothing was something I intended to ask when it was all over. I mean, they looked like the same things I would buy, but they clung to his muscles in a most unusual and highly erotic fashion. Here was a man whose body was pumping out so much testosterone it was practically leaking onto the floor, and whose brain was concerned with one goal and one goal only at the moment—to make me happy.
I just wanted to enjoy this moment. Just drink him in, all his beauty, all his power, all his pure overwhelming masculine presence.
He was standing there looking all kinds of amazing. He was exactly what I wanted, exactly what I had ordered. Maybe he wasn’t what I wanted, or maybe I didn’t know what I wanted until he appeared before me now after a single click of my mouse on a button that read “Submit.”
He had dark hair and blue eyes, a contrast I find both striking and sexy. His eyes were blue, but of a certain hue. Not an average blue, of course. Who would spend all this money for average anything? No, his eyes were the color of the sky at dawn, darker at the rim than at the center. Long lashes, too. Something about long eye lashes—I just really like them.
His face was achingly handsome. Almost too perfect, but with enough character to make him appear human and approachable. I knew that when I touched him, when I touched his skin, it would feel warm and silken under my fingers. It would provide an enhanced tactile pleasure as if it were designed to do so, because it was. His eyes looked down at my face with something like love, or so I imagined. It was all he could do to stand there like that without attacking me. That’s how badly he wanted me, to be with me, to give me pleasure and make me feel so good that all I would ever want was to be with him.
And he was capable of doing that, which slightly scared me—at least, it did the first time I’d experienced one of these fine young men. It was like being a drug addict surrounded with syringes filled with the purest heroin the market could provide. Something so good that you couldn’t put it down or leave it behind, and that you would do anything, pay anything, to have it.
But the fantasy is always better than the reality, isn’t it? Even when the two collide, like they did in him? “Please,” I said finally, “have a seat.”
He nodded and I watched him, marveling in every movement of that gloriously muscular body. I could see all his brawn bulge and flex, watch the muscle shift under his silken skin, watch that fat, huge prick shift and move in its denim basket, thick and firm and luscious in its perfection and abundance. He moved his perfect ass into the seat across the table from mine and set his palms on the crisp white table cloth, resting one on the other. A fine network of veins moved up his forearms and over the masses of meat bulging from his upper arms.
The sleeves of his t-shirt shrank up and away from the rounded balls of muscle, offering a peek at the moist, soft forest of fur within his warm pits, smelling so strongly of his musk. “I like this place,” he said. His voice was a resonant bass, almost absurdly masculine in tone, as if his words were falling from his mouth like hard stones with smooth surfaces. I wanted to hear him whispering filth into my ears as I felt him enter me from behind, shoving every thick inch of his miraculous cock up my ass.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.
A slight smile touched his lips. My God, I thought, his mind is so dirty. I knew exactly what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, that he was imagining my prick between his full, soft lips as he sucked and I came and shot thick, hot fountains of cream down his throat as he hungrily guzzled. “Beer,” he said, and then the smile increased slightly, and he added, “for now.”
I lifted my eyes away from him and signaled a waiter, whose attention we already possessed. Or he did, at least. I was good looking, in an average human way, but nothing compared to the man sitting across from me. I could feel my gaze being drawn back to him like a magnet to a lode stone. I could not not look at him. The waiter said something but I was already lost in a haze of desire, so he said, “Beer, please. Anything on tap. As long as it’s cold.”
The waiter responded again, but it was now as if no one else existed but him. He was doing it, already. But I couldn’t think, and didn’t want to. “You’re beautiful,” I told him, needlessly. But he was obviously pleased by my compliment, and he reached his hand towards mine as his smile increased several watts in power.
“Thank you,” he said softly. As his fingertips rested on the back of my hand, my whole body registered the touch. I knew it was coming, but now that he had touched me, even with so slight a brush of his flesh to mine and the contract was completed, I felt a rush of blood to my extremities and face. I silently thanked whomever had kept the place so dimly lit, so that I could avoid embarrassing myself in his eyes.
An electric shock of erotic promise shot through me. My cock twitched hard and my nipples tingled and the hairs on my neck and the back of my head stood on end. My face felt hot and my fingers felt cold as the blood inside me shifted, rushing into my prick and lighting my erogenous zones up like a pinball machine. Or was it the bonding? I wasn’t supposed to feel it, but I felt something. Probably the excitement of the moment. Was I so easily seduced?
But who wouldn’t be? Who could resist him? Who would even want to?
He pulled his hand back, probably realizing the effect the slight touch of him was having on me, and settled into his chair, shifting the masses of raw brawn in a most agreeable fashion. I watched his nipples, each perfect dark circle mounted at the edge of those thick mountains of muscle, rise and press intently against the white cotton of his shirt and ached to lick them and feel them swell and harden. The outline of his shoulders, the thick lobes of power swelling against each other, rose up beneath the seams. His neck, long and elegant and powerful, flexed with muscle. I could see his pulse along a vein, the strength of his heart, the immense power of his body focused in that small, steady movement. He had no beard to speak of, of course. His flawless features and sculpted jawline was unadorned. His entire body would be smooth and hairless like that. His full, sensuous lips parted as I studied his face, and he said, “May I ask you a question?”
His voice was rich and full, and sent shivers through me. “Of course,” I said.
“Why did you wish to meet here, rather than in your home?”
I cleared my throat and pursed my lips. “Part of the fantasy,” I said, honestly. “Temptation, suspense, the toying of emotions.”
His smile returned. “I see.” His handsome face tilted slightly and he drew his thick eyebrows together over those blue, blue eyes. “What role do I play in this? Should I be the hunter or the quarry?”
“Either would suffice,” I replied, “but let’s be honest here—if anyone is the quarry, it’s you.”
“A captive?” He asked it with something like hope in his voice. I wondered if his cock was swelling, and wanted to watch it.
“A prize,” I said, warming to the conversation. “It’s how this commonly works, you know, between two people.”
“Tell me,” he said, genuinely intrigued. If he was faking it, he was doing it convincingly.
“There are any number of ways for people to meet, but usually only one goal.”
“Sex,” he said, speaking the word like a seduction.
“Initially,” I clarified, “but if the two people click…” His eyebrow ached elegantly, and I said, “If they… have a connection. If they get along on several wavelengths, not just physically.” He made an ‘O’ with his mouth and nodded understanding. “Then they may choose to become a couple.”
“A couple of what?” His sense of humor seemed so dry, I doubted that he had one. Was he kidding, or was he honestly so young? These days, it was hard to tell. Everything was accelerated, but he was legal, and that was all that mattered.
“Just a couple,” I said. “They remain together.”
“Exclusively?” His face showed an incomprehension at the idea.
“Sometimes, sometimes not.” I paused as the beers arrived and were placed between us. He lifted his and waited for me to do the same, then dipped the rim of his glass forward and waited for mine to touch. I smiled at the surprise, because I didn’t expect him to know the custom, but he was very well trained in these things—the things that brought people closer and lead to naked bodies crushed against each other, hot and covered in sweat. “Anyway,” I said, after swallowing, “I thought you would enjoy this. You don’t get out very often, or so I’m told.”
He didn’t answer. He set his glass down and sat forward slowly, his eyes glued to mine. “What do we do, now?”
“Ordinarily I might discuss my job, or my hobbies. Places I’ve been, videos I’ve seen. Then you would reciprocate.”
“I can do that,” he stated, with an odd sense of pride.
“It’s all right,” I answered, “I’d rather listen to you speak.”
“What should I speak about?”
“Tell me about you,” I said. “Tell me how you came to be the man you are, sitting here with me, looking like that.”
His smile was magnificent. His eyes sparkled and his body seemed to swell with pride—or power. “Really?” he asked. “Most people don’t want to know.”
“I want to know,” I said. “Tell me about you.”
“There isn’t much to tell,” he said, his voice low and seductive. Did he intend it to sound that way, or could he not help himself? Was every utterance, every word, every soft sound that escaped those full, kissable lips a seduction?
“Tell me anyway,” I asked, “I like to hear your voice.”
“But you already know all about….”
He paused again, perhaps considering how much to divulge, before he spoke again. “There are two types. Augmentation and amplification. I’ve had several of both.”
“Amplification?” I asked, smiling slightly and remembering the feeling of stretching my jaw open, almost painfully, to accommodate someone of his girth.
His smile dazzled. His talented tongued darted forward and painted a sheen of spit across his lower lip. It gleamed like a swollen cock head. “Amplifications are generally physical or medical, but may also be mental. Augmentations can be cognitive, psychic, tactile, sensual… things of that nature.”
“The works,” he said. “And a few of them have been given supplemental strength.”
“Muscular-skeletal, obviously.” I allowed my eyes to drop along the lines of his body. He seemed to swell outward as he spoke, making the seams of his tight clothes strain. His hand moved over his chest and belly and under the table, and he started moving his grip over the bulging mass of cockmeat held captive in his jeans, grinning lasciviously. “Genital.”
“Cognitive, psychic and a few… special upgrades.”
“It helps me anticipate your desires.”
“More… active mental gymnastics. It helps you enjoy it more. Just a gentle nudge here and there. Sometimes to soften my… the… impact. And inhibitions have a tendency to decrease my success rate.”
“What about licenses?”
He counted them off on his fingers. They were beautiful fingers. His nails shone like polished stones. “Escort, sexual surrogate, sexual training, public nudity, public sex, nothing too unusual.” He met my eyes and smiled.
I swallowed hard. There was nothing he couldn’t do. No act he was incapable of performing, no request he couldn’t satisfy completely, immediately, and perfectly.
Not everyone could afford him. His services, that is. And it was hard not to think of him as a sort of slave, though it was equally hard to imagine that he was suffering in any way. As I sat there looking at him, knowing what I had in mind for him and me, a kind of glee ran through me, like a child on Christmas morning when it was finally time to open the presents. “And the others?”
A smile lit his lips. “Yes?”
“What do you talk about when you’re alone?”
“With the others?” I nodded, watching the spark of interest in his gaze. Something else lit his features now, besides my presence. The memory of his brother initiates, and what they do together. “There isn’t much talk,” he answered.
“Much? Or none at all?”
His head tilted. “Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Enough to say ‘fuck me,’ or ‘this is going to feel amazing,’ or ‘I’m gonna cum.’”
“General warnings,” I said.
“Advice,” he countered.
“Are you happy?”
“I’m very happy,” he said. “but I could be happier.”
“To be naked for you. To be naked with you. To pull off these clothes, strip myself of them, for you. Get hard for you. To fuck you. To feel you fucking me. To suck your dick until you cum.”
Jesus, my cock was hard. “Is it the same with everyone?”
“It’s different with everyone.” His breath was warm across the table.
“I mean, do you end up doing things with everyone the same way?”
“Tonight, right now, I only want to be with you,” he said.
I dropped it. Why spoil the moment? And maybe he actually did want to be with me more than anyone else in the room. Probably that was true, because he was mine tonight, and only for me. Everything about him, from the way he looked to the way he spoke to the way he moved, acted, dressed… he was everything I desired. He was perfect.
“You said augmentation and amplification.”
“I did,” he acknowledged.
“And you were…”
“I was perfected,” he stated.
That was true. I let my eyes explore his beauty. God, he was magnificent. So huge, so powerful, so strong. Just the thought of him naked, again, the idea of seeing him in my bed, his body sprawled out gloriously, his cock at attention, and all he wanted was me. I squeezed my ass and made my cock pulse and shove inside my pants. “Public nudity?”
“And public sex,” he stated, hopefully. He placed his hands at the hem of his shirt and pulled the material up, revealing the perfection of his body. “We can do it right now,” he said, slowly circling his right nipple with the middle finger of his right hand. His chin dipped and his eyes closed and he sank into a moment of bliss. “Come on,” he whispered, coarsely. His blue eyes opened and focused on mine. “Let me get you out of those clothes. My cock hurts, it’s so hard for you. I want to slam you down on this table and shove myself deep inside. I want you to feel every fat inch of me. Right now.”
He leaned back and started to caress the enormous length of dick shoving so hard against its confines that the teeth of his zipper were pulling apart.
In my head, I saw the two of us pushing the beers and flowers and tablecloth from the space between us, and he was literally ripping his body free of its clothing, exposing every perfectly formed inch of his powerful frame, the bulging biceps, the massive pecs, the tight six-pack belly, the long powerful legs and of course that beast at his loins, the insatiable and constantly swollen monster that did whatever I wanted. He was built for sex and every physical act, able to do anything I wanted of him, whether it was to me or for me or from me, and every act would leave him begging for more. “Your beer is getting warm.”
“I want to fuck you,” he said softly, brushing a hand through his dark mane. My eye was drawn to his bicep. Big as a grapefruit, hard as steel. “I want to see your naked body. I want to lick your ass and taste your hole. I want to smell your stink. I want to shove my hard cock so deeply inside you that you’ll scream.”
Fuck, this was so hot. “What else?”
He leaned forward slowly, the words emitting from his lips like promises. “I want to ride you,” he said. “I want to be on top of you, and inside you, pumping hard. I want to kiss your mouth and suck your tongue and wrap my strong arms around your body. I want to crush you, to make you feel my power, my strength, my muscles. I want you to cum so hard your eyes roll back in your head and your breath escapes your lungs and you feel your balls empty.”
“Fuck,” I whispered, sorely tempted.
He lifted the shirt up his body and pulled it over his head. His muscular development was awesome. He was huge everywhere. Perfectly proportioned pecs with silver-dollar nipples spread thick and huge across his chest. His arms were overwhelmed with muscle. His shoulders and delts were packed with brawn. Fat lobes and thick cables and hard wedges of muscle bulged beneath his flawless, silky skin.
He set the shirt on the table and stood up, half-naked already, and set his fingers to pry his belt buckle open. It clattered and rang out loudly as it fell apart, and he was watching my reaction as he undid the button at the top of his low-hanging jeans and started to pull the crotch open. The slim dark trail of curls erupted into a thick, shiny bush of rough pubes. The heavy root of his massive shank of cockflesh appeared as the zipper peeled apart. He dipped his paw inside the sweaty, warm basket of his jeans and grabbed onto the mass of his shaft and started to extract himself, tugging and pulling inch after heavy inch of cock into the open.
It began to throb and pulse as it struck the air. He rubbed his thumb over the helmet and drew away a gleaming droplet of his own precum and lifted it to his lips, sliding his thumb inside his mouth and sucking the salty essence. His tight pants still clung to his bulbous and meaty ass even after he had managed to pull his cock and balls free. His cock continued to rise to its majestic and impossible fullness, swelling thicker and harder and longer with each passing second. His balls looked like two hen’s eggs, and his huge prick wavered like a flagpole in a stiff breeze as he circled the table towards me. “Do you want to suck me?” he asked, needlessly.
Of course I did. My god, I did! He was getting bigger by the second. How big was he? How big would he get? I tried to pull a calming breath into my lungs even as I stared longingly at the magnificence of his erection. Veins popped along the shaft. The head was shiny in the dim light, and the eye was open to emit a surge of clear honey that grew into a fat orb before its weight caused it to drizzle in a thick river down his dick.
I moved my hand toward him and dipped my touch into the richness of his precum, running my fingers up several inches of his fat cock to gather a thick gob of his salty essence. I drew them from his fount and sucked them through my lips, slurping his honey onto my tongue. Of course he tasted good. A rich tang of sex erupted inside my mouth and his scent grew strong and heavy in my senses. I watched his prick drool as I sucked his taste off my fingertips, feeling the rich heat of him against my face.
“Take your pants off,” I said. The muscles of his arms twisted like cobras under his skin. The mountainous muscle hanging from his chest bunched and spread as he worked his jeans off his hips and over the supreme roundness of his powerfully built ass. Another eruption of his masculine scent rose from him as he exposed his sweaty crotch. Two fat balls, heavy with his seed, fell forward and down, hanging like massive eggs atop the finely veined muscles lining his thighs.
He had to push the jeans off his legs. Then he stepped out of them and I realized he’d already removed his shoes—he had anticipated this! Probably planned it! That was the reason for his undone laces. Fuck, the man read me like a book.
He pushed the discarded jeans aside with his foot and then stood there, naked and glorious, shameless and justifiably proud. His massive cock, a foot long if it was an inch, was still throbbing toward its ultimate size. Already firm but visibly swelling, the mouth of his manhood was pumping a steady drizzle of precum. It coated his helmet like glass and flowed thickly down his shaft. His scent was thick and rich and heady, now. Ass and balls and sweat and muscle. “Come closer,” I said softly.
He did, taking a step forward. The monstrous erection rising from between his powerful legs slowly rocked side to side. “Lick me,” he said, both a command and a supplication. He needed my mouth on his prick. He wanted to feel me worship him.
I leaned forward, and then smiled and looked up into those blue eyes. “No,” I said. God, I wanted to. My God, I did.
“Please,” he said, softer still. His voice was gruff and raspy, the sound of tectonic plates rubbing against each other.
“No,” I answered again.
His hands balled into fists. The muscles of his torso bulged with a sudden fierceness and thick veins stood out on his neck and arms. “I’m gonna fucking explode,” he said.
I smiled. I wanted him to. “I want you to.”
“Please,” he begged. “Please.”
“No,” I answered.
“M’gonna cum,” he whispered. Still so much power in his voice. “You’re making me cum.”
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t cum.”
His balls were churning. His cock was steel hard, and hotter than the sun. I knew his flood was pushing for its release. The dam was going to burst. “Oh, fuck,” he said.
I reached out and grabbed his dick hard, squeezing his shaft. Fuck, he was hard! It was like squeezing a rock! Was his cock made of muscle? Could a cock get that hard? “Don’t cum,” I said. “I don’t want you to cum.”
“Can’t,” he whimpered. “Can’t hold it.”
“Why do you have to cum?”
“Because of you,” he said. “Oh, fuck, I want you so bad. I need you so bad.”
There was strain and desire in his voice. His cock was thick and hard and pulsing. “Will you cum without my permission?”
“No,” he said. “No,” again, softer. But the muscles of his body were stark and bulging against his flesh. Veins were everywhere. It seemed like he was truly about to explode, as if the action of withholding the wealth of cream in his balls from erupting up and out the fat inches of his magnificent prick was causing his whole body to swell with brawn.
He was so close. Already on the verge of a huge ejaculation and we hadn’t kissed, hadn’t done anything at all. Just my proximity and his bond to me, now. My very presence made him this way. The scent of me. The sensation of my closeness. He was doomed from the moment he touched my hand.
I’m sure everyone was watching us. I’m sure they couldn’t avoid it. The majestic naked man, his foot-long cock engorged and throbbing, drooling precum onto the crisp white tablecloth as I squeezed it as if milking him. His huge body, overwhelmed with muscle, standing tall and true and awaiting my desire, my wish, my command. “When I place my lips to your cock head,” I said, very slowly, “you may cum in my mouth.”
“Thank you,” he answered.
“But not until then,” I added, stroking the full length of him. He was so hot under my touch. His blood was on fire. His cock bulged against my hand and his balls churned and moved with the full load of his cream.
“I understand,” he said.
“Are you ready?”
“Fuck, yes,” he stated. “Oh, fuck, I want to cum inside your mouth. Oh, fuck, I can hardly hold on. I want you so, so badly.”
I licked my lips. His monstrous meat throbbed angrily an inch from my mouth. The tip drooled a steady stream of precum and full, thick veins wound around the shaft like lightning bolts. The wealth of his foreskin was stripped back and the helmet was shiny and red. It jutted forward from him like a tree limb, its weight and heft keeping it at a 90-degree angle from his perfect muscular body. It bulged with his need, and grew fatter as I watched it.
I leaned slowly forward and opened my mouth. I darted my tongue forward and touched it to the end of his prick, tasting his salty essence and drawing back a thin clear string of honey. The tang of his taste coated my lips and I sucked it off. He pulled in a sudden deep breath and his hands balled into fists. I was torturing him, and we were both enjoying it.
His cock was magnificent. I could’ve remained seated there in that dark bar with his huge meat throbbing before me forever. It was a thing of gorgeous masculine power and immense sexual might, thick and powerful and juicy, ready to go off and fountain his massive flood of hot cream, the ultimate expression of his desire and his power.
A deep groan escaped his chest. His cobblestone belly heaved with each breath. Trickles of sweat, scented with his intense funky spice, wound through the curls on his huge pecs. A droplet clung to one nipple, quivering and plump.
I smiled and licked my lips, staring forward at his cock. Another drizzle of precum grew to a fat ball of honey and drooled from the eye. “Please,” he begged me. “Please…”
I pursed my lips and leaned forward. I kissed the tip of it. He was hot and hard. A slick of precum coated my lips. He nearly came. I felt him surge and bulge as I kissed him, but he managed to contain his load for another heartbeat.
He was right on the verge. Right on the edge. He could probably feel it pushing up the inches of his prick, filling it up with his seed, ready to explode with a fat, thick spray. I licked the tip and sucked his clear honey inside my mouth. “You’re perfect,” I said.
Then I opened my mouth and welcomed him inside.
He immediately exploded. His first blast more than filled my mouth, and I nearly choked on the wealth of his fountain. It squirted out between my lips and his shaft and another fat gush was already following it up. He groaned again and sighed and came again. The third as full and rich as the first. I guzzled and gulped and swallowed as fast as I could manage, feeling his heat and power flowing down my throat and into my belly.
He came copiously and continuously and fully. Gushing blasts of his cream filled my mouth. A dozen thick thrusting gouts of hot cream and he still wasn’t done. I drank it all down, every drop I could keep in my mouth, feeding my need for his strength and beauty and power as if he was giving it to me through this thick fount. I grabbed onto his ass and held him inside and he started to thrust and fuck my face. I sucked and slurped and wrapped my tongue around his fat cock and felt it surge and bulge as he came over and over.
At last he sighed and I felt his hands on my face, his warm palms against my cheeks, and he lifted my eyes to his face and his beautiful smile and he said, “Thank you.”
I pulled my mouth off his still drooling cock, sucking off the last precious drops of pearlescent cream, and licked my lips of his taste. “You’re very welcome,” I said. “That was amazing.”
He winked. “And we’ve only started.”
His cock, all twelve thick inches of it, swung like a pendulum as he moved back toward his seat and sat down as his beer arrived. His dick was throbbing a steady beat against his 8-pack as he reached forward and took the sweating glass into his hand, swigging down a heavy gulp of the bitter brew before setting the half-empty glass back on the table and setting his hand to his upright cock, slowly stroking its inches as it eagerly retained its erect status. “You okay?” I asked, eyeing his non-stop erection.
He nodded and said, “I’m perfect.” He gazed down at his amazing prick and wound the pad of his thumb around the head, coating the glossy helmet. “Would you prefer that I…?”
“No, no,” I answered quickly. “If you can stay that way…”
“I can,” he answered. “As long as you want me to.”
It was going to be a very interesting evening.
As I drove us to my home through the dark, wet night, I couldn’t help but think about how quickly things change when change is forced.
My car was powered by a hydrogen cell, and emitted only water vapor into the atmosphere. “They’ll never make them work,” it was said, only a few years ago. But then it became clear that there was no other choice, and miraculously now everyone drives a hydrogen car because everyone has to.
“Prostitution will never be legalized.” Until the economy collapsed and the governments needed cash to upgrade the infrastructure, so of course they turned to sex and drugs, legalizing and taxing it all. Now I go to the corner coffee shop and pick up a bag of weed, and go online to peruse the sex partners available on a nightly basis. All fully licensed, all fully legal.
New miracles were occurring all the time. Scientific, economic, mechanical, technical, pharmaceutical.
It’s amazing how quickly things change when there’s no other choice.
I thought about all that for a while as I sat in the left-hand seat and let my car find its way home. Magnetic channels embedded in the road surface were guiding the vehicle to my appointed destination. My eyes were closed and the machine’s soft hum was lulling my alcohol-hazed brain to a state of relaxation.
My sex partner sat next to me, his hand on my crotch, his expert touch massaging and petting and caressing my happy cock, pulled free from my jeans in the dark interior. He leaned down to kiss and lick me, and pried my balls free and sucked one and then the other inside his warm, wet mouth. I prayed we wouldn’t hit a bump, before I remembered that the hydraulics would compensate.
I moaned, deep and satisfying, as he pulled me to the edge of ejaculation before pulling away, seeming to sense my feelings before I felt them myself. Probably one of his augmentations. Or was that considered an amplification? Perhaps we all had his innate powers of psychic awareness and just didn’t know it. Or maybe it was too late for me, and it was something they had to do in the womb.
I really couldn’t have cared less. God, he was good. His hands and his mouth were working in concert to deliver waves of quicksilver tingles that throbbed all along my inches. My balls were wet with his spit and warmed by his breath. He held me in his hand and gently, slowly caressed me. My dick surged and bobbed with grateful glee.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
I felt his face near mine and he whispered into my ear. “You taste so good.”
I smiled, keeping my eyes closed. “Help yourself to more,” I offered.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, and a moment later his mouth was on my prick, his tongue wrapping around the shaft and head, and his hand pleasuring me like no one ever had before.
I didn’t even know his name. Not that it mattered. I could call him whatever I wanted to, and he would answer. He would do what I wished of him, gratefully and eagerly, and only want to do more. I set my hand on the back of his head. His hair was soft and fine, a full rich mane of midnight waves. It bobbed up and down as he sucked on my prick. The sound of his slurping and sucking filled the cabin, accompanied only by the swish of the windscreen wipers and the steady tap of rain on the glass roof.
“Two minutes,” my car said in her gentle feminine tone. We were arriving home momentarily, and I opened my eyes and said, “Almost home.” I was looking across his broad and muscular back, watching the bulges of brawn twist and flex as he moved.
His head lifted from my groin and placed his lips on mine and kissed me soundly. “I hope you have a strong bedframe,” he said. “Because I’m going to fuck you hard enough to break it.”
I laughed gently at the joke, but looking into his eyes it almost seemed as if he was serious. “Maybe we’ll use the kitchen table instead,” I suggested. “Or the floor.”
“Or all three.” He kissed my mouth again, eagerly and with passion.
“Arriving,” my car told us, and we turned up the circular drive and slowed to a halt. The doors swung upward on their pivots and the smell of rain, earthy and clean, entered the car.
“Should I put my clothes on?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Never.” But I tucked my own hard-on back into my pants before climbing from the cabin. He was already standing beside the car in his naked glory as the rain fell on his skin and made his tall, muscled frame glisten like dark copper. He was smiling and seemed to enjoy the sensation of rain on his body. It made him look slick and radiant, and his cock was still at attention as I had requested, standing thick and majestic from between his powerful legs. He was slowly stroking himself as he looked at me, and I knew that I was still the reason for his arousal.
“You have a nice home,” he said. But his eyes were glued on my face, worshipfully.
“Thank you,” I responded. My dick hurt. My balls were full. His continual manipulation of my privates had made me painfully aroused and made them almost impossible to calm. The rain was plastering my clothes against my skin, but I still felt warm and decidedly horny. Looking at him helped, of course.
I circled the sedan as the doors closed themselves and walked toward the entryway. The lights came on at our approach, and the house recognized me and unlocked the front door. He followed a couple of steps behind me, and as I entered my place his arms surrounded my body and his lips were on my neck. He pressed his muscular form against mine and for the first time I could feel how hard he was, but also how alive all the muscle felt beneath his wet skin. His hand was making its way down my belly toward my crotch, again, and his fingers worked their way under my waistband and plunged hungrily for my erection. I was still rock-hard, and so was he.
“Fuck, I need you so bad,” he whispered. Then he licked my ear and sucked my lobe into his mouth, playfully biting. “I want to fuck you.”
The thought of that huge tool pushing itself into my little hole made me cringe, but at the same time I was wildly excited by the idea. “You’re so big,” I said, leaning my head back onto his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
What that meant, exactly, I didn’t know. Was it a promise or advice? Could he use his wealth of talents to somehow make me accommodate his girth? Could he make his colossus magically conform to my asshole? Or did he have something else in mind?
“Dim,” I told my house, “fifty percent,” and the lights obeyed. He was stripping me from my clothes, the nimble fingers of one hand managing to unbutton my shirt as his other hand continued its manipulations of my cock. He was kissing my neck, and I could feel the rain that had gathered in his thick, dark mane drain down my back and soak into my shirt. His prick was pressing against my spine, and it felt hot and hard like a steel rod fresh from some smoking forge.
He extracted his hand from my happy hard-on and pulled the sodden shirt from my body. Dropping it to the marble foyer floor with a wet slap, he circled around me, keeping his hands on my body, and then stood before me, a head taller than me, and looked at my body. “Fuck,” he said deeply, and moved his fingertips across my chest and belly. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
I had the decency to blush for him, since the man standing naked before me was certainly more beautiful than any other man, let alone me. He pressed himself toward me, his enormous prick like a hot glass tube between us, and bent his lips to mine and kissed me again. His tongue pushed playfully into my mouth and I opened to allow him entry, wrestling for domination of the space and happily yielding dominion to his more talented appendage.
I wanted suddenly to taste his cock again, and realized that it was because his mouth tasted like his prick. He tasted good. Salty, perfumed like spice, and funky like a man should taste. Was that designed into him, too?
I swooned. I couldn’t help myself. I very nearly passed out from the sheer magical and overwhelming passion and sexual heat in that moment. He caught me in his powerful embrace and crushed me against his body. The kiss lingered and then he pulled away and scooped me into his arms as if I needed saving, and maybe I did.
“Bedroom,” he said, “or kitchen table?”
I laughed slightly and managed to recover myself. “Bedroom,” I instructed, and nodded toward the door to my lair.
I was not a small man by any stretch. I worked out with a religious fervor. I took the supplements that added inches to my arms and chest. I had a right to be proud of my body, though it paled in comparison to his. I weighed 200 pounds, easy, and he was carrying me as if I weighed nothing. Here, again, his dominance of the situation was made manifest, and the thought of his power made my libido jump. There was no doubt that he was going to fuck the living daylights out of my well-trained and insatiable ass. My hole tingled with anticipation. I wanted him to fill me up. I wanted to feel him slamming into me, driving his massive tool deep into my guts and coming his multiple blasts of cum until it was flooding out of me.
“Nice,” he said, upon encountering my bed. I had it custom-made, larger than a California King and sturdy enough for augments. As I think I mentioned, I’d had bigger men than him. Much bigger, in fact, but none so… beautiful. It was piled with pillows at one end, artfully arranged by my cleaning staff and fully plumped, like he was. The sheets were some absurd thread count, but not so high that they felt like satin. I couldn’t abide that nonsense, and I like the feel of cotton against my skin.
I thought he was going to set me down, but I found myself suddenly lifted up and physically thrown onto the bed. I gasped and bounced and landed on my back, somewhere near the center of the mattress. “What…?”
“Just testing,” he said. “It does seem sturdy. That’s good.” His cock was throbbing and now it was drooling again, as if he’d turned some inner spigot and started the flow of precum from his nozzle. “We’re going to need that.” His deep, masculine voice sounded majestic echoing off the vaulted ceiling. He was still slick with rain and his skin was a ruddy bronze. It seemed like the crevasses formed by the wedges of muscle were a deeper mahogany, but perhaps it was just the depth of his definition and the room’s lighting.
His face was incredibly handsome. I had thought, in the darkened bar, that his features were a tad soft, bordering on a kind of beauty that was almost feminine. But now, here, he looked nothing but powerfully male, with a strong jawline and a dark dusting of whiskers enhancing the lines of his face. His lips were so full, and I flashed on them applied to my hard-on in the car, and the feeling of them pressed against my prick and their softness as they slid up and down.
I scanned his body and it made my heart beat harder in my chest, as if it wanted to escape. The most prominent feature was still that huge dick of his, hard and red and fully engorged, ready to push its way inside any hole it wanted to. Even with the size of his body and his awesome muscular development, it was his enormous cock, long and thick and encircled with veins, that screamed of the level of his strength and power.
I swallowed hard, looking at it pointing at me, as if it were hungry to get started ripping me open. “I’m not sure…”
He grinned and folded his powerful arms across his bulging chest. The two heavy globes of his pectoral shelf gathered toward each other and created an inches-deep fold between the muscle. “Scared?”
Who wouldn’t be? “Admittedly, yes.” I leaned up onto my elbows and tilted my head as I considered his incredible phallus. “I’ve had my share of big men, but you’re…”
“Something special,” he said, finishing my thought. “I know, but like I said, I’ll take care of you.” He stepped closer, and his prick seemed to magnify to even larger extents. “I’m very well equipped.”
“That goes without saying.”
He laughed gently. “I meant… here, let me give you an example.”
Nothing about him changed, to my eye. His stature was as impressive, his demeanor as dominating, his face as handsome. He did not close his eyes or furrow his brow or make any physical indication that he was doing anything at all, but I felt a strong and sudden urge to be fucked by him. That is the only way to describe it. I wanted it very badly. The fear was gone. The trepidation and doubt vanished. I knew that nothing else would satisfy me except to feel the man before me fucking my ass as hard as he could, driving himself and his amazing, glorious, beautiful and perfect cock deep into me. I could imagine nothing that would feel as good, or satisfy as deeply, or fulfill my desires and bring me to a state of bliss only gods could know.
I started to speak. I wanted to beg him to fuck me. I wanted him to rip my jeans open and expose my asshole and slick up his monster and push himself—every thick and overwhelming inch of himself—up my bum. And fuck like a V12 internal combustion engine until I creamed so hard I went blind.
And then it was gone. The feelings, the desire, the need, all vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. And then I did speak, and I asked him, “What did you do?”
His arms still folded across his chest, he shrugged the mountain range that pretended to be his shoulders and said, “Merely a suggestion.”
“And not a particularly strong one. You already wanted it, I just… help you to realize it.” He blinked slowly as if considering something, and added, “You’re quite passionate.”
“Is that unusual?”
“It’s… surprising.” His smile was both pleasant and dirty. “May I try something?”
“Something like what just happened?”
He nodded. “Variation on a theme, so to speak.” Did I trust him? Did he need to ask if he could intrude so intimately? How deep could he go? He seemed to realize my doubts and he said, “You can trust me, I’m incapable of making you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“But those feelings…”
He let his arms drop, using his delicate but powerful hands to help his words. “I can only amplify the emotions you already feel. I can’t… insert anything. Your mind is your own. Think of it like a food.”
“My brain is like food?”
“Your mind. For example, a Porterhouse steak is a Porterhouse steak. But if one adds spices to it, salt or pepper, if one grills it in a certain way, it’s still steak, but isn’t it more than that? You recognize it as the same thing, but now it is more… delicious.”
I wasn’t sure that I liked having my brain compared to meat, but considering the cost of an ounce of beef I thought he was being generous. “I think I understand.”
“You do,” he said. Could he read me so easily? Did he always know what I was thinking? “And all I am doing is turning up the volume. Pumping up the flavor. Making you feel what you already feel, but adding my own… spices.”
I considered what he was saying and asked, “Does it hurt?”
He smiled. “Only if that would also bring you pleasure.”
Wow. He really did know me. “Let’s keep things a little vanilla before we start adding in the chocolate syrup and sprinkles.”
“I would love to be covered in chocolate,” he said, “and feel you licking it off every inch of me.”
My cock jerked, and this time I knew it was all me. “Or vice versa.”
“You’d like that?”
I nodded. “I don’t suppose your tongue has been enhanced, too?”
His right eyebrow arched and his smile was lecherous. “As I said, I got the works.”
My cock twitched again. “We have all night.”
“And the clock is ticking.”
“All right. Do… whatever it is you’re proposing.”
“Thank you,” he responded.
Have you ever done heroin? Not the legal variant they market on the shelves, I mean the kind you used to go to prison for. Or Vicadin? Some form of opiate, at any rate, whether you smoke it or shoot it or pour it into your morning caffeine. I ask this not for prurient reasons or to set the constabulary on you, but for comparison’s sake.
An opiate, for me, sends this sort of cascade of pleasure through my body. That’s the best way to describe it. I can even feel it coming, like the rush of water over a dam. Then it’s there, and it floods every particle of my being and I feel relaxed, but more than that, as if I have been dunked inside a pool of perfect bliss.
That is the kind of thing I suddenly felt. He had unlocked something in me and everything suddenly felt very, very good. It wasn’t a dramatic or jolting change, but it was certainly noticeable. If I didn’t know it was his doing, I’d have thought someone had slipped something to me in the very air I was breathing.
And then I noticed that my cock felt very, very hard. More than that, it felt very, very good. I closed my eyes and sank into this sensation. My cock felt huge and powerful. It felt thick and fat and heavy. It throbbed with pleasure and tingled with sex and surged with masculine power. It was the center of my being, physically and otherwise, the essence of me, and it was glowing and growing and heating up.
I heard him make a noise, something feral and wordless. I felt his hands on my belt buckle. I felt him opening the fly of my jeans. I felt him moving his soft, strong hand along the swollen inches of my mammoth prick. I felt his breath, moist and warm, coating the slick, tight skin that stretched over my hugeness. I felt his lips pressed to the blossoming helmet, and felt his mouth surround and suck it inside. I felt his tongue slurping wetly against the gaping mouth of my incredibly huge, unnaturally hard, overwhelmingly sensitive cock head.
I could smell him. He smelled like power. He smelled like balls. He smelled like ass. He smelled like sweat. He smelled like sex. He smelled like raw, overwhelming, cock-hard, ball-filled masculine power. His scent filled my head with the sensation of sex. I felt his mouth, his lips, his tongue moving up my body. I felt his hand gripping my dick, stroking it, rubbing it, teasing it. I felt a surge of precum erupt up the thick inches of my powerful prick and flow across its head, coating it in a warm, wet, slick of honey. He spread my warm release of male purity around the glossy, fat bulb. He pulled my nipple between his teeth and nibbled on the rubbery nub, making it grow thick and hard. He licked my chest, he licked my neck, he kissed my chin, my cheek, my lips. He crawled atop me, all the immeasurable power and size and heaviness of his incredible body pressing down on mine. I could feel his cock, his powerful hard hot cock, pressed between us.
And he kissed me and kissed me. Hands everywhere. The feeling of opiate bliss cascading across every sensation. He was my new favorite drug, and I was an addict for him.
“Please,” I managed to say, between his ministrations to my mouth, “please fuck me.”
“Yes,” he answered.
He moved back down my body. My cock grew painful, it was so engorged with blood and desire. My balls felt heavy and ponderous. Every inch of my enormous prick tingled and throbbed with sexual power. I gasped when I felt him lift my legs. My knees bent and he pushed them over his shoulders. His hands explored my ass. My cock surged another fresh flow of precum. It poured hotly over my belly.
He ripped my jeans open. With his bare hand, and a suddenness that nearly shocked me back from the blissful state he had placed me in, he tore the ass of my pants apart to get at my ripe, rosy asshole.
The air struck my wet, hungry hole and cooled its heat momentarily, then his mouth and his tongue were there and I was hotter and wetter than before. His tongue pushed inside like some enormous prehensile dick. It shoved and grew and shrank, its wet heat mingling with mine and lubing my tight tunnel for the penetration of his own hugeness.
I heard his eager and enthusiastic oral attentions and felt so, so good as he ate my ass. Here, too, he was an expert. I reached down and stroked my prick as he licked and slurped at my asshole, then my body was lifted up, higher, and I knew what was coming next.
A fresh, heavy dose of him, of his mental or psychic talents, washed over me in preparation for the introduction of his cock. Something enormous, something firm and hot, like a plum or a fist, pushed against me. I could feel him knocking, feel him position the arrow of his monstrous shaft at my backdoor and I tensed involuntarily, but he sent another, stronger wave of bliss into my head and I wanted him inside.
“Please,” I begged. “Please, fuck me.” I bit my lip and arched my neck and my whole body was open for him.
Then he pushed inside, roughly and all at once, plunging every fat inch of himself deep, deep into me. My body shifted from the power and force of him. I could feel him inside, the welcome intrusion of his massive cock, bigger than any cock in the world, bigger even than my own enormity. He pushed in and remained there, seated inside like he belonged there, like he owned it, and me.
Then, with aching slowness, he started to withdraw, and I wanted him back inside. I could feel the flaring ridge of his helmet moving out of me. I felt an emptiness where he had been. I wanted him back inside.
Then, again, roughly and all at once, he fucked his way into my ass again. “You feel so good,” he said softly, his deep voice soaked with desire. “Aw, fuck, you feel so good.”
“Fuck me,” I pleaded. “Fuck me hard.”
And he did. He started to pivot his hips to an increasing tempo until my body was being shoved across my huge bed like a ragdoll. Fuck, he felt so good. Was he getting bigger with every thrust? Was I cumming? Was he? It was a blur of passion and bliss. Whatever he was doing, to my head and my ass, the concert was a masterpiece.
I had never been fucked so well or so long in my life. Was he extending time, or contracting it? I groaned and screamed and came all over my own chest. He said, through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”
I wanted this, too. I wanted to feel those floodgates open again and feel the hot, thick wetness intrude my guts. I wanted him to cum so hard that his cum came out of my dick. “Fuck,” I said. “cum.”
I could feel his thrusts turn wet and slick. I could feel his streams inside me like fountains of fire. I came with him, bring our fuck concerto to a mutual crescendo, by aching balls emptying themselves by pushing my load up the hard inches of my amazing prick and splattering all over me. I came on my belly and chest and neck and face. I could hear the sloppy, slick sounds of him forcefully fucking his way through the river of his sticky cream.
It was everything.
It was perfect.
He roared as he came, this time. Maybe he sensed that I wanted him to. I wanted an animal to fuck me. I wanted a beast inside, and he came and roared and exploded within me. Fuck, it was amazing.
And when it was over, and he was on the bed beside me, and I watched his chest rising and falling as he gasped for breath, and his cobblestone abdomen swelled and receded, and his cock, that beautiful, amazing, enormous shank of sex made flesh, beat a steady rhythm as it lay, still rigid, between the defined muscles that lined his belly. It was gleaming with the wealth of his ejaculation. A pool of his cream formed within the deep definitions between his muscles, draining off his erection. He wasn’t cumming, it was merely that he had cum so much that it coated his prick in a thick, glistening glaze.
I was covered in my own cum. It seemed that I would never have any more, I had cum so fully. The room smelled of it, and of him, and of our sex. I could still feel him inside me, like some amputated limb I would forever miss, as well as the absence of him like a vast emptiness only he could fill.
“Fuck,” I said. “I don’t think it can get better than that.”
His muscled arm rose off the bed and fell across my body with a loud slap. I was reminded again of his size, his strength, and his power. “Don’t bet on it,” he said before laughing deep and true and making the whole bed shake. It was a sound I could grow to love. Then he said, “Shower?”
I could still hear the downpour outside. The evening’s rain was growing in power. The storm was fast approaching. “I have a better idea.”
He leaned up and looked at me as I turned to look at him. God, his face—so handsome. His beard looked darker now, as if fucking me had increased his masculinity. He smiled and narrowed his eyes. “Outside?”
“Do you mind?”
He shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I prefer it.” He bit his bottom lip, looking very young for a moment, and then said, “I have something I want to show you.”
“You mean I haven’t seen all of you, yet?”
His smile was downright filthy. “Not by a mile.”
We were both naked, moving through my house in the darkness, wet and sticky with the wealth of cum we had both so successfully shoved from our respective cocks. His was still at attention, just as I had requested, gleaming like an inverted icicle with a blunt, suckable head. Was he still producing that stream of delicious, salty honey?
He certainly smelled like he was. The rank smell of sex was coming off him in waves, as thick as the heat his huge body produced. He was a walking tower of masculine muscular power, leaving a discernible trail of sexuality in his wake. My own dick pulsed and throbbed based solely on the nearness of him, and that heat and scent and powerful sense of man that surrounded him like an aura.
It was a bit like walking around with the living embodiment of male sexuality, as if one could somehow define what it was that makes a man a man, at least in a sexual sense, and molded that into a single living being. He was everything about being with another man that made me want to be with another man. The sense of power, the strength of his body, the size of him, the hardness, the sleekness, the fur, the muscle, the… everything.
The sound of our movements was very quiet with the sound of the rain as a steady accompaniment. His hands could not keep themselves off my body. He wanted to surround me in his muscular embrace, which made movement both pleasant and awkward.
It seemed to me that I had cum buckets. It seemed that I could not possibly have another drop of cum in my balls, but his hands on me and his lips on my neck and his whispered promises laced with filthy intent were testing that theory. What he wanted to do with me and to me, what he wanted me to do to him, what we would do together, how I made him feel, how hard he was, and how much he wanted my hardness inside him. All this talk about hardness and the feeling of his muscles against me and the hot, thick firmness of his ever-ready prick caused me to grow erect again as we traversed the floors down to the glass-walled entertainment room that lead to my backyard.
A sudden crack of lightning shattered the darkness, followed by a low, far-off rumbling that mirrored the sound of my companion’s needful groans. He was fondling my prick with one hand as his other teased and tortured a nipple. His cock pressed into my back was a constant reminder of his unending and overwhelming sexual capacities. I had no doubt that he would cum on command if I only asked it.
The enormous screen that covered one wall was dark. The twenty-one speakers recessed into the walls and ceiling, and the three subwoofers that were powerful enough to knock the wind from my lungs (if I wanted them to) were silent. The windows were translucent, allowing us to look outside and onto the wet deck and the lawns and gardens and the dark-water pool beyond. The pool’s infinity edge ran to the end of my property and to the precipice of a cliff that dropped off into the cold, blue Pacific ocean. My nearest neighbor was several acres away, so the world—this world, my world—was ours and ours alone.
Wealth, indeed, has its privileges.
But without wealth, he would not be here with me. I wondered how much of the fee I had paid to his employers, if employer was even the correct term, he would receive—if indeed he received any at all. What was his world like? Where would he go in the morning? Would he miss all this?
Would he miss me?
The furry rug was warm and soft under my feet. We stood together for a moment at the wall of glass, watching the storm still far out at sea, and the splattering of the hard rain on the wooden planks of the deck and against the glass. Another blue-white shock of lightning erupted and I was momentarily dazzled.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. I could feel his voice as well as hear it. It resonated through me. He forgot my nipple for the moment and hung his heavy, strong arm across my chest, settling his warm, soft palm on my shoulder. His other hand, however, seemed unable to allow my prick to linger for any space of time, and I was not about to object.
“Thank you,” I said. I had learned long ago to say only that, rather than explain who the architect had been, or the landscape artist, or the interior decorator, or the audio-video technician.
“You don’t need to,” he said, oddly.
“Need to what?”
He was inside again. Listening to the words I wasn’t speaking. I was comforted that he understood, but not concerned that he had heard. Perhaps I was growing accustomed to his intrusions, or perhaps his intrusion was what made me comfortable. As he had pointed out, the clock was ticking, and every moment spent with him was proving too precious by far to worry about things like that.
His cock pulsed at my spine. It was hotter than the rest of his body, as if it was the source of all his power and strength. I remembered it inside me, pumping hot cream into my guts, filling me up entirely. I remembered him atop me, looking into his face—into his eyes—as he fucked me. The animal growls that left his mighty chest. The slick, wet sound of his cock sliding in and out, providing its own wealth of lube as he creamed. I remembered gasping for air as he roughly shoved me using only the power of his fucking, the immense and incredible strength of that cock shoving me around the bed as it delivered such overwhelming bliss. And my own cock throbbed and pulsed and tingled with anticipation of experiencing his ass.
“You want to fuck me,” he stated. His lips were close to my ear. His breath was warm.
“Yes,” I answered, because I did.
“Good,” he responded. Then his arm released me, his hand retreated from caressing my prick, and he went toward the sliding glass door. It opened automatically at his approach, moving silently aside and allowing the full force of the coming storm into the room. The white drapes lifted like an angel’s gown and the smell of the storm, earthy and intense, covered up the smell of raw sex that he produced.
Lightning lit the clouds and cast him into silhouette. I was struck by the taper of his upper body. Perhaps it was the benefit of not being distracted by his cock, for once, but I drew an appreciation of his size in that moment. The width of his lat spread was awesome. He wasn’t flexed, wasn’t pumped, but the wings that fanned out were thick and wide and spoke silently to his strength. “I want to go swimming,” he said. “Would you allow that?”
“If you wish,” I answered.
“Don’t worry,” he added. “You’re still going to fuck me.” His head turned slightly and I could see his eyes glisten in the dark. “And it’ll be an experience you’re never going to forget.”
He strode into the night and into the storm. Lightning flared as if his presence had willed it, like he was the conduit of power and control and the storm could only do his bidding. His features, his muscles, were thrown into sharp contrast and all color was bled from the scene, making him look like some figure from a heroic illustrated novel about perfect sexual supermen striding the Earth.
Wasn’t that what he was? Contrived, certainly, and designed for a purpose, but the achievement of him was breathtaking. Maybe he wasn’t human, by some ethical or moral standards. Did a human have to be bred from two parents? Did a human have to be born? Did a human have to conform to a set of physical standards that he obliterated by his very existence? The law said it was so. And as I watched this man-made god of sex stride fearlessly across my lawn toward the pool, his incredible and amazing prick wagging before him, the tempest roaring about him, I wondered what he was feeling, and if he knew what I was feeling, and how badly I wanted him to come back.
He stood at the pool looking up at the sky. His body gleamed like chrome, bathed in nature’s shower, the epitome of male power and beauty. He stretched out his arms and I watched with interest and growing arousal as he bent them and made the muscles lining his limbs to bulge into full-blown power. Everything suddenly flared outward on his immense frame. The biceps rose towards his fists. His lats unfurled. His shoulders rose against his neck like cresting icebergs. He was glorying in his power, his beauty, his raw and naked perfection there under the wrath of the storm.
Then he dove into the pool as lightning shattered the darkness and a rifle shot of thunder peeled across the sky.
I stood there awaiting his return when my house said, “You have a phone call. Do you wish to connect?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere, and the tone was rather too lifelike, owing to the quality of the speakers in the room. I asked who it was and the system replied that it was one of the friends who suggested I engage my swimming pool-loving guest. I asked it to localize the audio so it wouldn’t sound like my friend was the voice of god and to connect.
There was a click and then, “Is he there?” His voice sounded almost as if he were in the room with me, standing in the darkness to my left.
“He’s here. Or, actually, he’s in the pool.” Microphones picked up my voice as I stood there naked, watching the storm and awaiting his return.
“He’s taking a fucking swim? In this fucking storm?”
“Yes,” I answered. “He is.”
I smiled. “Well what?”
“Isn’t he amazing?”
Amazing. That hardly seemed to justify what he was. But I answered, “He’s amazing. You were right.”
“I told you a Level 3 was worth it.”
“So you did.”
“What have you done with him?”
“I haven’t done anything with him. If anything, he’s been doing everything to me. And in a very accomplished manner, I might add. Why so curious?”
“I… Well, the thing is that… So… Actually?”
“You haven’t had him.”
“No. Not yet.”
“Typical,” I said, because it was. My friend was a lecherous cad, to be sure, but also something of a coward. I knew that I was to be the guinea pig in this, and that my experiences would make or break his decision to take the proverbial plunge. My walls were more easily breached, but it took a very talented and special sort of army to get to my throne. I was a slut, but a judicious and talented one. He pretended to my level of sluthood, dallying with hook-ups now and then, but that was usually all he did.
I liked sex. No, that’s probably inaccurate. I fucking loved sex. Every aspect of it. From the teasing play of words and innuendo to the full-on sweaty screaming ass plunging I’d just experienced, I loved it all. I suppose I didn’t need to pay for it, and certainly more than one man I had encountered tonight at the bar awaiting my current conquest had made it clear that I could have them if I wanted them, but my tastes ran toward more unusual encounters lately, perhaps because I could afford it, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps because I am, as I readily admitted, a slut.
I could feel him inside me. Still, there he was, pushing his enormity in and out, fucking me hard, pushing me around like something to be used up. My hand went to my dick. It was throbbing. Every heartbeat drove it another size larger, just remembering what he had done to me, what he looked like, sounded like, smelled like—and what was to come.
I watched a towering figure emerge from the pool and start to return to the house. He strode with purpose and resolve. As the lightning flashed and lit up his form and face, I could easily discern that his prick had not calmed down an iota, its impressive size and steel-hard firmness extending from the center of his muscled body like a dowsing rod pointed in my direction, and his handsome face looked determined and anxious.
I was going to fuck the living shit out of him.
“I have to go.”
“You’re going to tell me everything, right?”
“Wouldn’t you rather experience him first-hand?”
“I’ve seen his cock,” he replied. “I’m not sure I could handle him.”
A smile wound across my lips. My cock surged with anxious desire. A flood of pleasure washed over me as if I was experiencing some after effects of the man’s unique talents. His cock in my ass, deep and hard and true, over and over until he filled me with a flood of warm, thick cream and I came all over my chest and face. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
“Why? What did…”
“He’s coming back. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Wait! What did you mean by…”
The line went dead. My companion had a very satisfied smile on his face as he strode toward me. His cock was as hard and erect and mouth-watering as ever, a foot-high shaft topped with a lemon-sized head. Water was draining off his body, clean now of the wealth of cum that had gathered in his dark curls and against his silken flesh, and all his body fur, luscious and warm, was plastered to his muscled bulges. He put his arms around me, his strong embrace nearly crushing my smaller body, and bent his lips to mine and kissed me soundly. I felt my legs go weak and my knees buckle and I couldn’t breathe. “Thank you,” he said, and he kissed me again.
I could hardly breathe, let alone speak. “For what?”
He grabbed my erection roughly and squeezed. “It’s always nice to know I’m wanted.” Then he sank down to his knees and began bobbing his head up and down on my prick, delivering brain-spinning spasms of sexual ecstasy that erupted all over my shaking body.
I came again, and quickly. He sucked it all down and spent quite a few concentrated moments cleaning my rod with his mouth and tongue before regaining his feet and kissing me again.
I could taste myself on his lips. The salty, earthy essence of cum was easily discerned, as well as the unique taste of him, again—the taste of his own cock mingled with mine. “Are you ready?”
“After that? Hell, I don’t think I have any cum left.”
“You do,” he said, with certainty. “Are you ready?” he asked again.
“To fuck you?”
“To push your cock so far inside my ass that I can taste it.”
Jesus. I was getting hard again, already. I looked down at my prick and watched myself grow. “Are you doing that?”
“Only indirectly.” Then he stood so close to me that he was all I could see. The storm raged beyond him, his body was outlined by flashes of lightning. His body was pressed to mine. I could feel his muscles. All of them. “Like this,” he said. “It’s the bond. Sometimes, there’s a little bit of… feedback. My body is responding to yours, and now yours is responding to mine.” He pushed himself toward me. We were nearly touching everywhere, but not touching at all. His heat emanated against my skin. His smell was strong in my lungs, and in my head. My cock was throbbing with hot need. He dipped his head and his lips were at my ear and he spoke, very softly.
He began to move his hands around my body. I could feel him, now, with a strange intensity. I closed my eyes and realized I could sense where his hands moved. I knew where they were, though they never physically came in contact with me. Then I felt him draw near again, and his mouth was to my ear, and he said, “You can feel me, now. You can sense me. And I can do this.”
A heavy sexual throb erupted throughout my body. I came. I couldn’t help myself. My cock plumped and a fat arc of cream fountained up and splattered against my stomach, hot at first and quickly cooling. He did it again, whatever it was. A hard, insistent, sudden shock of pure male sexuality that grabbed hold of my balls and squeezed another dose of cum out. I gasped and felt dizzy and entranced and enraptured. “Fuck,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he responded. “Let’s.”
His hand moved to wrap my fingers in his. He pulled me from the house and out into the storm. I could feel him everywhere, feel his strength and his power and his perfection, as if it were now a part of me. I could feel his strength inside me, as if it were mine. I could feel the power of his body, the flame of his passion, the overwhelming sexual drive that made his cock stay hard. Fuck, it felt good. “Is this… is this permanent?”
“What?” he asked, turning his beautiful face toward mine. The rain was pouring down, and he gleamed as if he were made of metal.
“This feeling. The connection. Feeling you.”
He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. It lasts for a night. Our night, together. I am bonded to you, but the bond is temporary.”
“You’ll bond with someone else tomorrow night.”
He stopped. A shattering tear of lightning ripped across the sky overhead. The rain was beating down on us. Wind whipped the grass and sent the droplets splattering all over my naked flesh. It was a warm rain, a summer storm, and he looked at me and said, “Tonight, I am with you.” He squeezed my hand in his and leaned down to kiss my lips. I felt his hot erection brush my belly and was reminded of his power and the deep well of sexuality he possessed. But there was also tenderness in him, and it made me want him more than ever.
He smiled. “No,” he said.
“You’re not allowed to start feeling like that.” He reached down and grabbed onto my hard-on. He stroked me, caressed me, squeezed me. He knew me intimately, now, knew exactly what to do to keep driving me back to wanting him physically. “You still have to ravage my ass.” Coming from him, now, it sounded like an order rather than a request. “And I expect you to do it better than I did it to you. I expect you to make me cum.” He was a sergeant in some kind of sex army, ordering his lieutenant to deliver. “And you better fucking believe me when I tell you—that won’t be easy an easy task.”
A challenge! I fucking loved a challenge. “I’ll make you cum,” I boasted. “Fuck that, I’ll make you scream. I’ll make you roar. I’ll suck the cream out of your balls like a Dyson. I’ll fuck you so good and make you cum so hard, your balls will hurt.” I smiled, then, because it was no boast. I meant these words. I meant them fiercely.
“I’m going to make you long for my cock no matter who you’re with.” I emphasized my words by squeezing my asshole and making my dick swell and grow harder in his grip. “You’re going to feel me in your ass forever, and remember me every time you blow your load from now on.”
He squeezed me hard and drove me to my toes. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
I felt something coming back through the bond, something I knew he wasn’t pushing to me. It was an emotion. He was feeling… excitement. And… anticipation. And hope. He really wanted me to make this happen. “But I need you to do something.”
“I can do anything,” he reported, honestly. It was no boast.
“Then don’t do anything.”
“I don’t comprehend.”
It was my turn to grab onto his hard-on. It was ridiculously hard. I wondered why the rain wasn’t steaming off its heat and power. “Let this go.”
An eyebrow rose on his handsome brow, and his lips slid into a half-smile. “I’m not sure I can.”
“No,” I said, “don’t say the words you think or you know I want to hear.” His head tilted slightly, and his blue eyes narrowed. “I need to feel… I need to know… that whatever I’m doing, the effect is honest. It’s all you, and that what I’m doing is causing it. It’ll turn me on. It’ll drive me harder. It’ll make it all… real.” I increased the pressure on his rock-hard prick. It was inhuman, its power. “I need to know that when I see this on you, when your cock is this big and this hard, it’s not because I asked you to. It’s because you can’t fucking help it.”
His slim grin grew into a dazzling smile. The rain was pouring down his perfect naked form. I could feel the heat of his body against my own. He was huge. He was powerful. He was perfect. “Okay,” he said.
I felt him grow suddenly less firm. I felt his cock soften in my grip. Ordinarily, that would’ve turned me off, but in this situation it excited me. Whatever happened now, it wasn’t just because I told him to get hard, or to cum. It would be because he couldn’t stop himself. I could feel… curiosity coming from him. And pride, or something like it. “This should be interesting,” he said, his tone deep and resonant.
His cock continued to sink from its unending erection, growing limp but losing none of its beauty and retaining a good deal of its size and girth. He owned a seven- or eight-inch monster. The head drooped like a flower bud and the cowl of his ample foreskin slid back over the plump helmet. His incredible manhood hung thickly over his fat balls, and the veins shrank away leaving a smooth, heavy shaft arching proudly forward. “Nice,” I said, petting it like some tamed snake.
“That wasn’t easy,” he said. “No one has ever…”
“What?” He was cautious and curious.
“Nothing,” he said.
The bond between us was growing stronger. I realized that he was in a state of confusion. He had been trained—bred, in fact—to answer every whim of his nightly partner. I had paid for the privilege of his instant and complete agreement to anything I asked, and the ability to fulfill my requests, any requests, fully and probably beyond my satisfaction.
Now, my whim was that he not respond to my whims. Which was my whim. Could he obey and not obey? What was he to do now?
But my evident satisfaction with the state of his prick seemed to calm his confusion. I had to ask, “Do you understand?”
“I believe so,” he said, honestly.
“Tell me what you believe.”
“You want me to act according to my own desires and inclinations. You want my body to react naturally. If I am aroused, I will allow myself to become aroused, and allow my body to react accordingly. I will not behave in a manner only because I know it will please you, though if your pleasure is manifested in my behavior or reactions, you will allow that.”
“Technical, but precise,” I praised. “But I want you to forget my desires, if you can. I don’t want you to account for what you feel through the bond. Rely solely on your own reactions, and allow yourself the freedom to feel and speak and move and get horny based on what you feel, not what I instruct.”
The connection seemed suddenly to open up between us, and I could feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and admiration, which I suppose was to be expected. Still, the depth of his emotions was stunning. “Now,” I said, “the real fun begins.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” He was smiling. Waves of excitement were pouring from him. His face looked positively giddy.
“Perfect,” I said. “Come with me.”
Wet sex is all well and good, but for what I had in mind I didn’t want any distractions. The rain was warm, but all those romantic fantasies of making love outside, I find, are usually tinged with snorting bugs or having sand up your ass crack. I wanted luxury, and I wanted his undivided attention when I was plugging away at his supple, tight hole. I wanted him to feel me, and only me, when I was fucking him.
I lead him back inside the house. The sliding door opened and closed for us as we passed near and through, and we were both soaking wet. The storm had become a tempest, with howling winds and thrashing lightning. The dark house was being lit up from outside as if flashbulbs were capturing our naked glory for someone else’s happy perusal. “Back to the bedroom?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I have something else in mind,” I said, still leading him from room to room. “I feel like a workout.”
“Didn’t we just have one?”
“A proper one, and I want to see what you can do.”
It was always part of my plans for our evening together to watch him work out. I love to watch a man work out. The strain is almost orgasmic. The look on their face as they push for that last rep. The plump, hard, overripe look of their muscles pushed to the brink, overwhelmed and blasted. When you can see the muscle swell as it’s pumped, to watch it grow and the individual fibers appear under the skin, the thick sheen of sweat all over them.
I wondered what one of these men looked like in that situation. God knows they were already magnificent, but could they get even bigger, and if so—how big? If this man beside me was in his relaxed state of muscular power, what would he become after making those muscles scream from exertion?
I lead him to a stairway and the overheads blinked on as we descended. There was an open doorway at the foot of the stairs and already I could smell the iron inside the room.
I stepped aside and ushered him before me, bowing slightly as he entered my church of muscle. It was a large room, occupying half of the house’s overall dimensions, sitting beside my garage. The mirrored wall on that side could turn transparent with a simple vocalized command and allow me to look either at my own reflection as I moved from rack to rack and machine to machine, or gaze on my lovingly illuminated six-pack of vehicles, their gleaming angles acting as a more abstract reflection of my own muscular form.
He stopped for a moment at the threshold and a sudden thick thrill passed through the bond. From behind, I could see his body physically tense and relax as he looked about the room, and I realized that this was his church, too. This was where he would go to find solace as he lay on the benches and shoved hundreds of pounds over his head again and again.
I had a very good collection of all the modern bodybuilding machines, as well as a full set of chrome-plated weights that were very hard to come by. Everything was gleaming as if it had been polished, but only because it had been. The walls to the left and the right had more mirrors on them, though not an entire wall like the one facing the garage. And the rear wall was blank, covered only in sound-absorbing material so when I wanted to blast my music, no one else would be bothered.
Not that there was anyone else to bother, but it was horribly expensive so, obviously, I had to have it.
He turned to look at me and for a moment I thought he was going to cry. Instead, and somehow as if on cue, his mammoth cock began to rise again. “This is…”
“I want to watch you,” I said. “I want to watch you grow.”
His smile was incandescent. He bounded like a puppy toward the first rack of dumbbells and lifted two 50-pounders in his hands. Already, the muscles of his arms bulged into definition and deeply-etched beauty, lining his limbs like solid balloons. “What are these?”
My brow creased in disbelief. “They’re weights.”
“You’ve never used weights, before?”
He shook his shaggy mane. “The other machines,” he said, motioning toward them with his head, “some of those we are allowed to use. But nothing like these.” He began to pump them in his hands, lifting them effortlessly and with perfect form, as if born to them. “This feels….”
“Increase the weight,” I advised him. “It shouldn’t be too easy.”
They went up to 200 pounds, and he moved along the rack sampling a pair of them, admiring their silver shine and the feel of their coldness in his hands. “Like this,” I said, lifting two into my own grip and approaching an incline bench. “It’s like a machine, but without so much control. You have to rely entirely on your own body.”
He watched as I performed a few sets, then I moved aside for him and he sat down holding a 120-pound dumbbell in each hand. His cock was rising to the occasion, clearly turned on by the sensation of control and strength he was feeling.
Then I watched him. I watched his arms inflate. I watched the veins branch along them. I watched the threads of sweat emerge from his underarms and drain along his coppery skin. I watched him heft the weight overhead and start to pump his chest. I watched the two globes push and flex. He got up and grabbed a heavier pair, enthusiasm and pride evident on his handsome face, and he sat down again and pushed the weight up, stretching his muscles and making them begin to burn.
His cock was at full mast. He was loving this. And so was his body. The changes were easy to see. It was an incredible machine in its own right, performing the tasks set to it with clockwork efficiency, and increasing its capabilities and size as it was tasked with more and more weight.
He got up again and went to the very end of the rack, easing the 200-pound weights into his hands and sitting his fine butt back on the sweat-soaked bench. His chest was broad and thick and separating into distinct lobes. The meat was inflating and visibly pushing his lickable nipples down as they grew larger and larger.
Rep after rep. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred.
He dropped the heavy weights with a distinct thud and sat up, examine his monstrous hard-on and breathing hard. He set his hands to his stiff prick and stroked himself with open love, allowing his head to stretch back on his neck as he sank into the luxurious passion of self-love. A thick gob of precum erupted and he dipped his fingers to the fount and licked the honey from them, licking his lips and swallowing soundly.
“I feel so good,” he said.
“You don’t look half bad, either,” I complimented him.
He looked over at me. “Are you going to fuck me, now?” There was hope in his eyes. He was practically begging me.
But I shook my head. “Not yet,” I said. “I’ll know when you’re ready.”
He sat up straighter, like a proud schoolboy, and lifted his arms. He bent them and pushed the muscle into a fantastic double-bicep pose that made my heart flips. They were magnificent, and I wanted to lick them and worship his beauty. “What about your legs?”
He looked down at the deeply carved tree trunks. He straightened one, and the brawn bulging along his thigh built up as if it was going to burst through the skin. “How do I use these to build my legs?” he asked, lifting one 200-pound dumbbell in his arm as if it were a sack of groceries.
“You don’t,” I explained. “Follow me, please,” I said, and I walked toward the squat rack, and the barbell and more shiny silver disks of iron. He was nodding when I looked at him, and before I eve started explaining, he was shoving 100-pound weights onto the ends, and securing them with a sleeve.
“Now what?” he asked. pulling the sagging bar from the floor.
“Can you lift it onto your shoulders?” After a moment’s adjustment for its 690-pounds, he pulled against gravity’s strength and it sat across the broad mountain range cresting his shoulders. “Now, place your legs like so,” I said, illustrating the classic stance, feet shoulder-width apart, and instructed, “then bend your knee as if seating yourself, and….”
Again he nodded, understanding my instructions before I had finished, and began a series of squats. I didn’t have to tell him to keep the weight on his heels, or to keep his knees behind his toes. God, the man’s butt, such a thing of gorgeous power. It was bit comical to watch him perform a set of perfectly executed squats while his erection threatened to put an eye out. He was grinning madly as he felt his legs burn, and his buttocks grow stronger.
He finished and set the barbell into the rack’s arms. He stood upright, stretching himself, bending at the waist to touch his toes, allowing the singing muscles to pull taught. “Now,” I said, “some thrusts.”
“Finally!” He was almost prone on the floor, with his ass ready to be poked, but I gingerly turned him and said, “Now, this one takes a bit more coordination. But you’ll feel it everywhere.”
“Right,” he said, clapping his hands together happily. “You’re going to fuck me.”
“No, you’re going to take the bar back onto your shoulders, and start in the same position.” He did so. God he looked so amazing. The muscles everywhere were already bulging out fiercely. His legs were pressing against each other, and his prick throbbed stiffly with every beat of his strong heart. “Now, move this leg forward as you bend your other knee toward the floor. Slowly! Not so fast! Now, slowly come back to a standing position, then switch off to the other leg. Good. Perfect. That’s it.”
“Holy fuck,” he said softly. “I can feel it. I can feel… everything.”
I knew what he meant. Machines were certainly effective, but to truly feel every muscle burn, to become hyper aware of your own size and strength and power, nothing beats free weights. I was certain he’d never experienced this feeling before. Perhaps the reason for his perfectly developed body was that he spent some scientifically optimized time in specially designed muscle building machines that managed to work on every body part to its own advantage.
But now he was being forced to use his own leverage to balance and lift and push around the iron. It was making him very aware of his own power, and he was getting off on it.
And so was I! It was like that line in that old song. He was ‘brutally handsome.’ Watching his muscles bloom into power was amazing. They thrived on this, obviously, and grew fat and hard and vascular. He completed a heart-breaking set of reps and placed the bar carefully back on the rack, then stepped forward and simply stood there, eyes closed, as every muscle hummed with renewed strength.
I could practically see his heart pushing blood into every swollen body of brawn. He was a relief map of the masculine anatomy, and there it was again, rising from the core of him like the fount of his power—his cock, beet red and thickly veined, hard as the steel he had been lifting and ready to explode.
He stood there breathing, his mighty chest heaving up and down, his chiseled abdominal wall moving in and out, sweat pouring down his naked body. He was a perfect illustration of masculine beauty. He was raw and feral and swollen with power. An animal made out of sex and passion. A swollen muscle pushed to his limit.
“Get on your knees.”
He looked down at me, alpha dog to underling, but I was in control. He slowly dropped to the floor. His muscles, still burning and bulging from his strenuous workout, popped and flexed beneath his skin.
His cock was rock-hard. His body was, too. He moved onto his hands, assuming the position.
My dick was dripping. I was more than ready. I circled around behind him to gaze upon that perfect and perfectly tortured butt of his. He had prepared himself for me, with his knees set apart so that his hole was open and waiting. I looked at the perfect pink pucker and he managed to open it even wider. Such muscle control! God, he was good.
I spit into my right hand and applied the natural lube to my raging hard-on. He was motionless before me, his wide, tapered back swarming with bulges of brawn, the muscles of his legs like fat wedges carved from mahogany. His ass was smooth and hairless. His huge balls drooped down ponderously, and I know his cock was pounding out a steady rhythm against his belly. Fuck, he was hot! I bet the neighbors could smell his sex stink from miles away.
I confess that I nearly came spontaneously just looking at him, there. The mighty figure prone before me, awaiting my commands, anxious to be pierced by my cock. His butt was a thing of gorgeous power, the thick glutes pulled back to reveal the target of my present lust. All his muscles pushed to their max, and his coppery skin coated in a sheen of his sweat.
I made him wait for it. I remained in silent contemplation of his ass as I slowly stroked myself and attempted to withhold the load of cream that was already shoving for release. Fuck, would I even be able to do this without erupting within seconds of entering him? What was it going to feel like, shoving myself inside his tight, talented hole? What would he do to me in there? Grab hold and never let go? Was he equipped with some hidden talent that they had given him? Some new augmentation or amplification that was going to drive me insane batshit crazy with pleasure?
His hole opened again, as if asking to be violated. Fuck, I was hard. And more than ready.
I approached the target and set my grip to his narrow hips. He let out a small sound at my touch, like a groan or a growl. The muscles bulging all over his back suddenly tensed tightly and his flesh seemed to suction onto every perfect muscle. I positioned the tip of my cock at his backdoor, like a dog sniffing the ass of its bitch. It was drooling precum and throbbing hotly in my grip. I kissed the tip to the entryway and he let out another small, deep sound, something from that magnificent chest that rumbled through him like a tremor of lust.
I knew what he wanted. I could sense the desire through the bond, and the need. He wanted me to get the fuck in there! He wanted me to end the torture and fuck his ass the way it needed to be fucked. He wanted to feel his body light up from the contact and feel me pushing against him, hard.
Instead, I began to slowly—achingly, torturously slowly—to push myself in his ass. I wanted him to feel every millimeter of my intrusion. I wanted him aware, intensely aware, of my size, my thickness, my heat and hardness. I wanted him to attempt to keep me out, to no avail, because I was the biggest, the baddest, and the sexiest bastard he was ever going to have his perfect ass fucked by.
It was torture for me, too. Fuck, he felt good. Better than good. He had an ass that was built to be fucked. It tightened against me, then allowed deeper entry, then squeezed again. It was a velvet vice, massaging and gripping and slick as butter. Fuck, it felt good. He was hot as hell in there, and when I had managed to push every inch of my prick in his butt and pressed my balls against his, he let out a groan of intense pleasure and satisfaction, and passed that sense of sexual bliss through the bond to me.
My god, I never wanted out of that vice. I wanted us joined like this forever. I remained seated inside him, feeling his ass muscles pushing and contracting and squeezing against my intrusion until I heard him say, very quietly, as if through clenched teeth, “Fuck me, please. Fucking fuck me!”
I grinned. Satisfaction washed over me. And I began to withdraw my fat prick as slowly as I had entered. Jesus, it was a difficult journey. He was pulling me back inside, his ass literally gripping my dick and refusing to allow me to leave his hot, wet hole. I moved my hands onto the round perfection of his glutes and began to caress and massage them, relaxing the way out. His entire body shuttered with ecstasy. His muscles flexed and bulged again, displaying their size and might, and I was halfway out.
“No,” he begged.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. It took all my energy, all my self control, all my attention to hold myself back. I could feel the strong, insistent tingle of an orgasmic explosion all along my cock. My balls were filled up, drooping with my load of warm cream. The eye of my prick was weeping a stream of honey inside his butt. It took everything I had not to blow my wad and pull myself free.
“Please,” he begged again.
Fuck, I was horny.
Nearly out, watching my veiny shaft extend, I could feel his ass giving way to my dominion at last.
So I started to fuck him.
I fucked him hard. I fucked him good. It felt glorious and perfect and he was making these noises, deep growls and raw grunts, that stoked the fires within me and I was pushing in deep, again and again, fucking the living shit out of that man’s perfect and beautiful ass.
And fuck, was he a good bottom. We like to think, when we’re on top, that we’re in charge. But the truth is it’s the bottom in control. It’s the target of our lust that we are lost without. He was as insatiable and talented on the bottom as he had been on top. Pliant and submissive, for sure, but the things his ass could do to my cock are beyond description.
What did he have inside there? Another throat? Something so powerful and pliable and hungry that it could do that to my cock? Massage me, squeeze me, suck the cum right out of my balls?
It was paradise in there. I achieved nirvana. I rose to heaven and sank into hell. I closed my eyes and thrust my hips and felt the incandescent thrilling throbs and tingles of sexual perfection erupting along every millimeter of my huge, hard, hot cock as I plunged myself inside his perfect masculine power again and again. His body and strength and beauty surrounded my prick and swallowed me up. My whole body shook and my brain spun around and I could feel it coming, the biggest fucking orgasm of my entire life.
I confess that I couldn’t fuck that ass for long before the sensations I had managed thus far to withhold could not be delayed another second. The dam was breached and I started to shove a load of heavy cream up the fat inches of my prick in strong, heavy gouts that flooded his ass and lubed my actions, creating a vicious cycle of creaming and fucking, each feeding the other, and I grabbed onto his butt and shoved myself deep, deep inside and my body shook and my toes curled and I swear to fucking god I blasted a fucking nut up his ass. Maybe both nuts.
I had never cum so strongly or so fully. I wished I could see the fountain blasting from the end of my cock as I filled him up. It felt like I was fucking exploding. I could’ve shot that first load a mile.
He arched his head up and let out a feral sound like a bear or a wolf would make, a deep-throated roar of intense and perfect pleasure and I knew he was cumming, too. I could practically hear him going off like a firehose. Jesus, the man knew no bounds at all. How many times was he going to go off like that, and each one as powerful and full as the first one.
I pulled out and took hold of my pumping prick and sprayed my load across his wide back. The iridescent cream gathered in the folds between his muscular bulges and glazed his skin. He could feel me cumming on him and he turned his head slightly, perhaps intending to watch me. I slapped his ass hard and he turned away, laughing I think, and I finished emptying my balls on his body.
I bent down and tried to encompass his muscular girth in my arms and felt the intense strength and hardness of his body. My sticky cream coated up both and ran off the sides of his mammoth frame in thick runnels.
I realized, as I was lying atop him, feeling him explode another blast of cream, that something was changing about him. Something was physically changing. He was breathing hard and still covered in sweat. He was growling or purring, I wasn’t sure which, and as my naked body was lying atop his I could feel him expanding.
That was the word for it. He was expanding. I could feel his body moving beneath me, and it was moving because it was getting bigger. His muscles were growing larger, and his skin was stretching, and his body was growing physically bigger.
I knew it was happening. My heart started to race and I struggled to stay on top of him as his back stretched wider and the myriad muscular bulges grew thicker and fatter, rising up beneath his skin, increasing the impossible definition and separation between every muscled bulge.
I heard him growl, “Ah, fuck yeah,” or something like that. His voice seemed absurdly deep. He started to rise off all fours, lifting his torso and I slid away, lubed by my own cream and the sweat of his body, falling on my butt on the floor near the weight rack.
I was behind him, looking up at him. My cock was still rigid but growing limp. I was as sweaty as he was, glistening under the lights, coated in my cream. He lifted up his arms and looked back and forth between them, his shaggy head moving to and fro like a great bear.
His biceps were growing. He balled his fists and pushed spasms of power into them and he—and I—watched them growing. I could see the fibers of muscle splitting and multiplying. I watched the bulge swell upward under the skin and grow by the inch.
His shoulders were expanding as well, along with his lats and the muscles of his back. I watched his entire upper body growing larger with brawn. I could see—physically see—the power manifest in every distinct head of every powerful muscle.
He rose to his feet, seemingly in a daze. He was looking down at himself, his hands and arms had fallen and he was exploring his body. I said, “What is it? What’s happening?”
He turned toward me. The look on his face—it was like a religious ecstasy or deep sexual bliss. “Growth cycle,” he reported. “Pre… premature. Should only happen when I am inactive.”
Inactive. Sleep. This is how they grew them. This is what happens. This is why… “You’re growing?”
He nodded. “Feels…”
The bond opened. The sensations he was feeling flooded my body. I knew how he was feeling. I could feel it, too. As I watched him grow, as the muscles of his body developed miraculously and his frame expanded to contain all the new brawn, he was being flooded with some form of narcotic or some naturally occurring chemical, a dopamine, that made him equate what was happening to him with the pleasure of sex.
It was an amazing and enthralling experience, to watch him grow. His chest swelled outward. His shoulders built upward. He wasn’t growing to gigantic status, instead everything was slowly but inexorably growing larger, by an easily discernible amount.
It was as if the man before me was magnifying. Everything got bigger, from the size of his feet to the width of his hips to the length of his cock. Even his balls were swelling, visibly enlarging and dropping farther as they grew heavier.
Of all his features, only his face remained largely unchanged. There was an intensity in his blue-eyed gaze that bordered on fanatical. If what I was feeling through the bond was only half of what he was experiencing, that look was entirely understandable. His body was being flooded with pleasure, to overcome what had to be an otherwise painful process. His very bones were being forced to grow along with his muscle and everything else. But the overall effect was breathtaking and, I have to say, as sexy as hell.
It didn’t take very long, or perhaps I was so mesmerized by it all that time lost all meaning. It ended as abruptly as it began, and now he stood before me with an additional three inches of height, and who knows how many more pounds of rock-solid muscle? His enormous cock has gained an inch or two in length, and looked thicker as well. And as I had mentioned, his balls were enormous.
But it was the muscle that was the most evident change. Perhaps his workout had set it off. Maybe it was the combination of that and our sexual encounter. I had, after all, pounded his ass like a pro—though I rather doubted that it was his first time having his ass pounded. Whatever the reason, his steel-tempered collection of muscles was now much larger, bulging with fierce and mind-bending definition along every inch of his taller frame. His chest was incredible, and the depth of the valleys between each fat muscle popping from his abdominal wall was unbelievable.
The muscles along his legs and arms were fat and encircled with veins. As I watched, the muscle seemed to slightly soften, or perhaps it was still growing, but the end result was that his vascularity decreased as the muscle swelled upward under his skin, leaving only a couple of thick veins that crowned the heads of his biceps, and a few branching tributaries along his thighs and reaching upward from his groin across the flat expanse of his pubic region.
God, he was beautiful—even more beautiful than before, if that was possible. And clearly, it was, because the evidence was towering before me.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
He smiled and raised his arm, pushing back the dark mane that had fallen into his eyes, making the ball of his bicep swell with gorgeous power. “I apologize,” he said. “You’re not supposed to see that.”
“Do it again,” I told him. “That was fucking awesome!”
His dick responded to my words, visibly—and almost violently—pulsing. “You… enjoyed that?”
“Fuck, yes! That was amazing!” I tried to rise to my feet, but found myself dazed. He reached down and offered his hand, and I took it. It was larger, too. He was so strong, fucking hell, was he strong. His handsome face lit up as I praised him, and I knew he wanted to kiss me. So I kissed him first.
Or, at least I attempted to. Before, his lips were attainable, but now he stood nine or ten inches taller than I. He was grinning as I reached for him, and he bent toward me and we pressed our mouths together and his tongue won the wrestling match, again. I reached down as grabbed onto his cock, finding it hard now to fully grasp its circumference in my hand, and squeezed playfully. Fuck, he was so big. He did something, squeezed his ass or made his cock do something, maybe it was magical too, and the thing swelled in my grip and seemed to grow hot as well.
Fuck, that turned me on.
“Oh, jesus,” I moaned. “Oh, fucking hell, you’re so hot.”
“May I offer my apologies on behalf of my employer and myself.”
“What?” I backed off, a bit shocked.
“A full refund for this evening will be credited to your account.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You requested a Level 3 companion, I am now a Level 4.” He looked down at himself, and if it was possible to convey pride and embarrassment in equal terms, he was doing that now.
“No, it’s fine! It’s fucking great, in fact!”
“But, the terms of the contract… your requirements…”
“No, it’s really fine. I don’t want a refund. If anything, this feels like I should be paying you more!”
His face lit up, and a smile wound across his handsome mouth. “You’re not disappointed?”
“Oh, hell no! If you could do that again, in fact, I’d be even happier than I am now!” I grabbed onto my own erection and wagged it at him. “Does this look like I’m disappointed?”
His eyebrow arched. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
“Fuck, that was… that was amazing!”
“Thank you,” he said, with uncertainty. Then his brutally handsome face went sort of blank, and his body straightened to its full height, his arms fell to his side and his posture perfected itself—shoulders back, chest out—hell, it even looked like his dick aligned perfectly with his frame. When he spoke, his powerfully masculine voice had a slight monotone register, and he said, “but I must make my departure, now. I have not received the required…”
“…conditioning and indoctrinations concerning my improvements and augmented capabilities. There is a possibility of physical repercussions or anatomical association with a partner or partners imparted via the bond and sexual activity. This is a very real risk due to instability in the form following morphosis for a period of 24 to 48 hours. Any evolution of augmentations or amplifications, occurring prior to or during a session, may impart unforeseen side effects to one or both parties.”
He was reciting something. When he stopped, and stood looking at me, I asked, “Like what?”
He blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then opened it again, and reported, “I don’t have that information.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“Any evolution of augmentations or amplifi….”
“I know that part! I don’t care! I don’t want you to leave!”
His face broke its blank expression, and his brow knitted together. “Unforeseen side effects may occur,” he repeated, helplessly.
“I’m willing to take my chances.” He was glorious. He was beautiful. He was fucking huge. “If you are.”
He looked at me. “I?”
“What do you want to do?”
He looked perplexed. “What do I want to do?” he repeated.
“Do you want to leave?”
“Unforeseen side effects,” he said.
“Right. Understood. But I’m asking you what you want to do. I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay.” Hell, didn’t everything come with warning stickers? I was taking my life into my hands when I stepped into the seat of my car, if I were to believe everything I was told. Fucking lawyers and fucking insurance companies are always covering their asses. They probably just wanted to gyp me out of having an evening with a much more expensive model than I had contracted for. And from the looks of him, a fucking Level 4 was worth twice as much as a Level 3. “I’m willing to risk these ‘unforeseen side effects,’ but I want to know what you want.”
“I don’t understand.”
I was gambling here. I was working against some corporate bullshit that was probably burned into his memory or something. I wanted him to fucking stay! Did he remember my instructions? Could he think for himself?
I pulled in a long, calming breath and sighed. He stood before me in his swollen, towering muscular perfection with a look of confusion on his features. His full, moist, kissable lips were pursed and his brow was furrowed. “You have a choice,” I explained. “I’m giving you a choice.”
“I must make…”
“Your departure now, yes, sure, that’s one option. But the other one is that you stay here tonight, for the duration of the contract, with me. And I get to have some more fun with you, and you get to have some more fun with me, and together we get to explore what a Level 4 has over a Level 3 and discover these unforeseen side effects together. The three of us.”
“You, me, and that colossal shank of mouthwatering sexmeat hanging between your legs.” I smiled.
He looked down at his incredible and beautiful prick with an expression of confusion, then looked at me again.
I winked at him.
“I may decide?”
I nodded, afraid that any sound I made might break this tenuous thread connecting us.
He looked down at himself again. His chest was immense. He was breathing calmly. Sweat still clung to the deep valleys between each swollen muscular bulge. His face showed a variety of emotions washing across his features. Wonder, confusion, desire, hunger, curiosity… determination.
When our eyes met again, it felt like some strong shock of electricity had passed between us. “Let’s explore,” he said, the R rolling into a lustful growl.
My dick practically slapped my belly.
He stood before me in all his naked glory. To say that he was larger was to say that the summer sun is hotter. Muscle bulged from every inch of his frame. Still, his body did not evince the bloated musclebound thickness I had seen in too many steroid- and human growth hormone-pumped meatheads who were pushing so many needles into their asses that they looked more like porcupines.
Those men were cheaters, of a sort, though who wasn’t anymore? There was a drug for everything, now, no matter what you wanted to improve. From dick size to hardness to thickness to semen production to non-stop libidos and everything in-between, a guy could go to his local pharmacy and come out with a bag of magic so powerful that within a week, he could look like whatever fantasy he had in his head.
The man before me—if he could even be still considered a man—was so much more beautiful than any of those oddities, though. Maybe because he had been built from scratch to look like that. Maybe because there was nothing left to chance in his DNA, and they had filtered out all the impurities and less-than-perfect bits from the egg and sperm that had produced him, and now here he was, god made flesh, standing two feet in front of my prone, naked body, looking every inch of perfection that it was possible to buy.
My cock was throbbing hard just looking at him. Nothing—no one—had ever looked like him, and I’d had my share of beautiful men, both seduced and paid-for. “Are you…”
His head tilted and he grinned. “I am all right,” he answered, before I could ask it.
He nodded, and his grin became a perfect smile. He tapped his forehead with his perfect index finger. “You are still here, with me.”
“And can you…?”
“I can,” he answered. And then he did. I hardly had time to gasp a shuddering breath before he was flooding my system in sexual bliss. I felt warm and hard and a quicksilver orgasmic rush filled me up and my hard-on swelled to purple hardness and I released a thick, sudden fountain of cream that shot up three feet and splattered to the mats that covered my gym floor. He narrowed his eyes and bit his bottom lip and another sensation slammed into me, one as powerful but different in scope, more heat, more passion, something like lust, and I wanted him very, very badly.
It scared me, too. He had that power over me. And as soon as the fear manifested, the sensation disappeared and a concerned look washed over his insanely handsome features. He offered his hand to me—a broad, strong thing with perfect shining nails and smooth, warm skin. I took it and he lifted me back to my feet, saying, “I’m sorry, I did not mean…”
I waved him off. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t prepared for that one.”
“You prefer sex?”
“Well, there’s really only one answer to that question,” I joked. “But what do you mean?”
“You prefer sex to love?”
“Love?” The idea shocked me. He could… Could he… “Can you do that?”
“We are bonded,” he answered. “As a Level 4, I am authorized to become a Partner.”
“But… what are you now. Or, I mean, what were you before?”
“Companion,” he answered. His voice was a low, musical rumble. It stroked my dick and licked my balls. “As a Partner, I am able to offer augmented emotional support.”
“I see,” I said, though really I didn’t. I knew there were drugs for that, too. Drugs to stop depression. Drugs to stop fear. The brain was just a big chemical soup with electrical wires attached, and science knew how it all worked. Why wouldn’t they know this part, too? “Could we… let’s… let’s not…”
“I won’t,” he answered. “Are you sure you want me to stay?”
I looked him up and down. “Very, very sure,” I answered. “Do you want to stay?”
“I want what you want of me,” he answered, automatically.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, we had a deal, remember?”
“As a Level 4…”
“Fuck that shit. You’re still you. There’s just more of you,” I said, then I glanced down at that huge and gorgeous shank of meat hanging between his thighs, and corrected, “there’s just a hell of a lot more of you than there was, but you’re still you. For this night. With me. Do you understand?”
“I am having difficulty,” he said. “It is… It’s… I have not received the proper conditioning and indoctrinations,” he said, repeating his weird, earlier speech, but this time in his own melodious voice. “I apologize.”
“No need, but let’s see what we can do about that. I have an idea, if you’re game?”
He did seem a bit out of it, like part of his disk had been erased or something. “Not a game. Well, it’s kind of… come with me.”
“To the bedroom?” he asked hopefully. There was that growl in his voice again, a decidedly feral sound like an animal was caged inside him.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said, “but we’re not having sex.” He looked particularly disappointed. “I mean, we’re not having sex yet. Oh, don’t you worry, we will be having sex. Lots and lots of sex. But I think you need something else, first.”
As he followed me, I was overwhelmed by his size. He was so big, so broad, so impossibly huge and bulging with brawn that it felt a bit like a wall was behind me, moving under its own power. There was also a certain scent that he seemed to be developing. He had smelled good before, for sure. But that seemed more like a polite cologne, though there was nothing chemical or flowery about it. The new scent held some of those properties. It was heavily masculine, perhaps designed to impart a sense of his deep and penetrating sexuality, but this new scent, the one growing in strength with the rest of his muscles, it was more… potent. More funky and raw and… again, the word ‘animal’ sprang to my mind.
I cast a glance back at him as we climbed from the gym floor and caught him staring at my ass. His eyes looked almost menacing, as if he had become mesmerized by my butt or something. I had to smile, though. I had a nice ass. Nothing wrong with admiring it.
Reaching the ground floor again, the storm still raged outside, perhaps even stronger than before. Shocks of lightning lit up the darkened space, and thunder boomed against the thick glass. “Lights, 50%,” I said, and the darkness abated as the hidden OLEDs slowly rose in brightness. Our clothing was still strewn about, and I lead him toward the bedroom, again, where only an hour before he had managed to fuck the living daylights out of me. I looked back and down at the thick monster wagging at his crotch and felt a slight shudder of fear. Was he so big now that he’s rip me wide open?
It would almost be worth it, to die like that, just to feel this man take charge.
“Lie on the bed,” I commanded.
He did so immediately, crawling his bulk onto the mammoth mattress and lying on his wide, heavily-muscled back. His cock stuck straight up like a flagpole, and his chest refused to budge, even though it was so thick and heavy with muscle that I thought its sheer weight would flatten it against him. “No,” I said, though I would regret not having this view of his gorgeous perfection. “On your belly.”
He grinned and winked at me, and as he turned over, he assumed the position of a man who was about to be well and truly fucked, spreading his legs wide and opening himself to me. I chuckled and my cock throbbed and pulsed at the sight of his mounds of ass meat, so choice and round and beautiful. But I said, “Relax. We’re not there, yet. You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed,” he said, even though every bulging muscle across his back was fully flexed and swollen beneath his silky skin, like desert dunes.
I moved onto the bed and straddled him, my cock slipping between the sweaty cheeks of his ass. Then I leaned forward and applied my hands to his shoulders, and began to knead his massive muscles.
The man was rock hard. Absurdly hard. I could feel every muscle head keenly beneath my hands. I pushed and gripped his brawn, trying hard to force pleasure from my fingers into his muscle. “You’re fucking hard,” I said.
“That feels good,” he answered. Then he moaned. His whole body shuddered. “Ah, fuck,” he groaned, moving beneath my hands. “That feels soooooo good.”
“It’s supposed to,” I answered, but my job was harder than it looked. His muscles seemed unyielding to my hands. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough to even dent them. I settled back and reached around, slapping his ass hard. “I said relax! Jesus, your muscles are as hard as a rock.”
“Those aren’t the only things hard as a rock,” he said. Then he laughed, and I shook atop him. “Sorry,” he added. “Obvious joke.” He turned his head to try to look at me, and said, “Please don’t stop. It feels good.”
“You’re going to have to relax or I’m going to break my fingers off in the space between your muscles.” He laughed again, nearly lifting me into the air. So much power! So much strength! But then his back muscle did seem to soften, if ever so slightly, and I reapplied my hands to his smooth, sensuous flesh. “Better,” I praised.
He moaned again. I could feel it pass through me as I straddled him. My cock was sliding up and down the crack of his ass, and that felt good, too. I leaned down, my belly against his lower back, and pushed my elbow into his shoulder. “Is that too hard?”
“No,” he said, quietly. “It feels… this is amazing,” he said. I could feel his emotions through the bond. Pleasure and appreciation.
“Is this your first massage?” That was hard to believe.
He nodded. “I am trained in giving them, but no one… no one has ever…” He groaned again. It sounded like there was a grizzly beneath me. Placing my hands on him, on his skin and muscles, was more intimate and personal than having fucked him. I was feeling the man under my touch, feeling him as he moved, feeling each muscle body flex and bulge, literally feeling him speak and moan beneath me. My cock throbbed between the high, proud arches of his newly-grown buttocks, sliding in the slick sweat of his workout and transformation.
And his smell—it rose in the heat of his form, like scented oils warmed by flame. I lifted my hands to my face and smelled him on my palms, as if he were releasing the pure essence of masculine power through his very pores and it clung to me, wanting entrance inside my own body. I slid on his thighs with my ass and moved my hard-on between his butt cheeks, feeling him squeezing me in the muscled vice.
Now it was my turn to moan. Jesus, the power. The pure, rock-hard, unending, overwhelming power of the beast beneath me. Gazing on his back, wide and bulging with brawn, I nearly came. “Please,” he groaned softly, “please don’t stop.”
I pushed my palms unto his glorious skin again and grasped the masses of muscles that perched upon his shoulders. So thick, so hard, so strong. I felt him flex and shudder with pleasure at my inexpert touch, and I leaned in and moved my hands under the wealth of his dark mane to massage his scalp. His hair was warm and soft, clinging to my fingers like fur, so fine and dark and lustrous. Jesus, everything about him had been improved, and I had seen it happening before me.
I moaned as I remembered the sensation of his growth and he moaned in unison, maybe through our bond, maybe because of my touch, and maybe both. He felt good because I liked feeling him. I felt good because he felt good. It was a cycle of pleasure through touch alone, more intimate by far than thrusting my cock up his ass.
“So good,” he repeated softly.
He was hard everywhere, but with a subtle pliancy. His skin was slick with sweat and…whatever else he was pumping out that contained that intoxicating scent that I was beginning to think I never wanted to be without. I moved my hands to his thick, broad neck and tried to rub my thumbs at the cords of muscle aligning his spine. I rubbed my cock between his butt muscles and felt another load of hot cream building within me. “Ah, fuck,” I whispered, softly, unable to contain my lust from audibly manifesting.
“You gonna cum?” he asked. He could feel me in the bond, and I could sense his own pleasure building in concert with the pressure building in my balls and throbbing in my hard dick.
I could hardly answer him. It felt so good with his huge muscular form beneath me, sliding my cock between his butt mounds, rubbing the sweaty crevasse with the tender, sensitive underside of my thickness. “Jesus,” I said. My body shuddered and I began to lose control.
“Cum on me,” he asked. “I want to feel your heat all over my back. I want to feel your bliss made real across my muscles.”
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I was supposed to be delivering him pleasure, but everything about him as I rode atop him, from the massive bulges of power to the silky smoothness of his skin to that perfume of masculine musk assailing my senses was turning me on harder than ever. I rode the steed below me, feeling the size and hardness and strength of his muscles in the grip of my hands, rubbing my cock into the deep, hot, wetness between his butt mounds and I was going to cum. I could feel it. I was so close.
“Cum,” he said.
I did. I came. As if his word was my release, as if his command was all I needed, I felt my cock jerk and swell and spit out a fat, thick stream of white cream that arced and splattered onto his sweet, sweaty flesh. I came hard, pushing it from my balls, sitting up and thrusting my dick forward. I started to rock back and forth, sliding my spitting serpent between his meaty hemispheres, and he started to flex and tighten the vice against my hardness. I fucked the tight chute he had created and came over and over, unloading everything I had all over his wide, bulging back.
He sighed and moaned as if I was cumming inside him, or fucking his hole. As if even this was pleasure enough to satisfy his deep needs and heavy desires, feeling my cum shower down upon him like lava, knowing that I was achieving orgasm using his body as my tool, even as my goal was to pleasure him. His muscles bulged and flexed, making my cream swim around the masses like a river through a mountain range. He groaned and squirmed as if he were having the orgasm himself.
“Ah, fuck,” I said, as my fountains finally subsided and he was coated in my creamy, sticky mess. I moved my hand into the wealth of slippery cum and coated his skin with my load as he moaned in evident ecstasy.
“Feels good,” he said again, as if this was the equal to the massage. “Wish I could’ve watched you.”
“You’ll have your chance, I’m almost positive.”
“You’ve got more in your balls for me?”
For him. He wanted my cum. He wanted it all. “Turn over,” I instructed, lifting myself and my dripping prick off his body as he pivoted beneath me.
I had nearly forgotten how beautiful he was. Not just his face, but the whole of him. His back, his shoulders, his ass were all testament to his strength and power, but now that I was looking at his face, at his chest and stomach and arms—god, he was magnificent. He smiled up at me and reached forward, stroking my hard prick to gather what was left of my load into his hand and then licking it off, closing his eyes and sucking my cream from the ends of his strong fingers. He kept his blue eyes locked onto mine, and I could see in them as well as feel through our connection how much he enjoyed this. The sound of him licking and sucking my cream off his fingers was making me hard all over again, as if that were possible after releasing yet another thick load all over him.
His body was a roadmap of power. The muscle bulged in thick mounds, perfectly developed and beautifully displayed. Every muscle was its partner’s perfect match, and there was absolutely no imperfection to my eyes in the manner in which he had grown bigger and stronger. I felt his mammoth cock throb under my ass, reminding me of his growth there as well, and the frightening size he had attained.
He licked his lips and stated, “Don’t be afraid, I can’t hurt you.”
“I’m afraid that I want you to,” I stated, because it was true.
He smiled. My heart flipped over and a sudden heat enveloped me. “Whatever you desire,” he said. “Just tell me. I can do anything.”
Anything. Anything I desired. He would—and could—do it. My mind started spinning, weaving fantasies into this reality, using him any way that I wanted to, and allowing him to use me, too. “I…”
But my thought was interrupted by the house monitor. Her soft, emotionless voice stated, “You have an incoming audio-only call from Confidential Companions, ‘a limited liability corporation specializing in providing the finest augmented intimate associates available.’ Do you wish to accept?”
Damn. I should’ve counted on this. Of course there’d be some kind of alarm that would go off if one of their models started behaving in a manner inconsistent with protocol. “One moment,” I said, testily. I looked at him, into those pools of bright blue, and said, “It’s your boss.”
His eyes went blank again, and he started to state, “I have not received the required conditioning and indoctrinations concerning my improvements and augmented capabilities. There is a possibility of physical repercussions or anatomical association with a partner….”
“Jesus, this is getting tiresome.” I lifted myself from his ungodly physical perfection and sighed. “All right, connect the call, please.”
“Call is commencing,” she said, and then another feminine voice was entering my home through several of the speakers hidden in the walls. “Good evening, this is Confidential Companions. It appears that the Companion that was assigned to you this evening has experienced an unscheduled revision.”
I looked down at him, all two meters and something like 135 kilos of him, sprawled out on my large bed, with every muscle pumped to perfection, his mammoth prick throbbing with dull need against his 8-pack abs, and a blank look on his handsome visage. “You could say that,” I agreed.
“Please accept our apologies. A credit to your account will be made within 24 hours. A transport is on its way to your location to…”
“I don’t want a transport. I don’t want a credit. I don’t want him picked up.”
“…provide a replacement… Excuse me, sir?”
“I said I don’t want him picked up and I don’t want a replacement.” His chest was rising and falling slowly. He was staring straight ahead, toward the ceiling. His prick was refusing to subside, and I could see a thin spider-silk thread of pre oozing from its tip.
“The… the replacement is free of charge and….”
“I don’t care. I don’t want a replacement, I want him.”
“Sir, I understand your desire. Our companions are the best available and I’m sure you have been completely satisfied, but let me assure you that the replacement….”
“Why does he need to be replaced?”
“Sir? The model….”
“Unscheduled revisions, whatever. Why the fuck does he need to be replaced? I want this model.”
There was a pause, and then she stated, “There is a possibility of physical repercussions or anatomical association with a partner or partners imparted via the bond and sexual activity.” Now, where had I heard this before? “This is a very real risk due to instability in the form following morphosis for a period of 24 to 48 hours. Any evolution of augmentations or amplifications, occurring prior to or during a session, may impart unforeseen side effects to one or both parties.”
“Yeah, he already told me that, but what does that mean?”
“Um, there… there is a possibility of physical reper…”
“May I speak to your supervisor, please?”
“Sir, I assure you….”
“May I speak to your supervisor? Please?” I hoped that my voice was carrying the level of my irritation well.
“Certainly, sir. Can you hold for a moment?”
I sighed dramatically. “Yes,” I answered. There was silence, except for the storm’s rage. Apparently, the model in my bed had an off switch or something, at least as far as his recognition of me was concerned. His cock continued to throb and ooze, and I was sorely tempted to climb back aboard and start lapping up all that honey that was going to waste, drizzling into the creases between his abdominal bulges when a male voice entered the room. “May I help you, sir?” he asked.
“Look, I realize that you people fucked up. I appreciate that you’re trying to make things right, but I’m the client, here, am I not?”
“Of course, sir.”
He had a very commanding voice. It reminded me of the naked man on my bed. Maybe they weren’t applying all their augmentations and amplifications to the companions. “I do not want nor will I accept a replacement. I paid for this model—this specific model—and I intend…”
“I’m afraid we must reclaim that Companion, sir. I apologize for any…inconvenience. Please be assured that the replacement model will more than meet your specifications, and we have taken the liberty to upgrade you to a Level 5. I’m sure that you’ll….”
“A Level 5?” I looked at the Level 4 in my bed, at the absolute perfection of form and the superhuman size and beauty, the jaw-dropping face with its strong chin and handsome features. Jesus, how much better could things get? “How many Levels are there?”
“Level 7 is our top model,” he replied. “But I’m sure that you’ll be more than satisfied with….”
“I don’t want a replacement.” I didn’t fucking care how gorgeous the next model was. I wanted this one. I wanted… I needed to see how this would all turn out.
“Sir, there is a very real danger….”
“I’ll sign anything you want me to,” I stated. I knew how this worked. I knew how it always worked. As long as I agreed to sign on the dotted line and absolve the company from my personal choices, they’d let me get away with anything.
“I feel it’s necessary to impart to you, sir, that there is a very real…”
“Yes, you’ve done that. He’s done that. Your underling did that, too. I get the message. Just forward whatever legal mumbo-jumbo you need for my signature, and you’ll have it.”
Another long pause. I assumed that he was either looking over his alternatives or asking someone even higher up than he was about the legalities, here. But, fucking hell, he was little better than a pimp. This was just fucking ridic…
My doorbell rang. The replacement was evidently already here. I looked at the man on my bed, his huge cock, his muscles, his face, I remembered us together, the sound of his voice, the feel of his arms around me, that scent he was giving off filled the room.
And fuck, was I horny.
“One moment sir.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“I want them both.”
Another long pause. “I… I’m sure you realize that there will be an additional charge to your account.”
“Why? You were going to issue me the replacement, anyway. Why should I have to pay….”
“The terms of the original contract called for a single Companion, Level 3, model, uh… model M-A-slash-P-six-five. I’m sure you can see that the terms must be altered if you plan on upgrading to a Level 5, plus the Level 4 currently in your possession.”
“Look, this isn’t my fault. I didn’t fuck up, you did.”
“Sir, I assure you that we never intended….”
“Do you want to make this right? I think if you check your records you’ll see that you’ve made quite a dent in my bank accounts over the years.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I don’t think you want to lose such a valuable—and may I add, well-connected—client over something as trivial as this.”
“No, sir,” he answered.
“How would it benefit you if I switched to using Intimate Associates, or Private Liaisons? I’m sure either of them would be most happy to….”
“Sir, I’m sure that our competitors would indeed be happy to have your business, but I think if you check our roster of talent, you’ll find that we offer an incomparable line-up…”
“I’m sure you think you have something special,” I said, but looking at the man sprawled naked on my bed I had to admit that I would be hard-pressed to think of anything that could improve on him. “But keeping me happy this evening would go a hell of a lot farther in my satisfaction with your services than offering another perusal of your catalog.”
“Sir, I want to assure you that our….”
“I want them both.”
“Sir, I really must caution against that. It’s inadvisable for a single person to… how can I put this?”
“We both know what I plan on doing with these models, so don’t mince words with me.”
“A Level 5 is… the Level 4 model is designed to be the utmost Companion for an evening alone. We don’t recommend… we advise against… sir, a Level 5 is not usually provided for one-on-one activities, they are designed for group activities and for parties with more… unique desires. We made an exception in your case due to the unusual circumstances, but… sir…”
“Quit dancing around and just spit it out.”
“No single person, no matter how…experienced they may be, will be able to handle both a Level 4—particularly a newly upgraded model—and a Level 5 at the same time. I admire your… vigor, but…”
“Let me worry about that,” I said. I was growing tired of all these warnings and advisories, as if I was some child or inexperienced virgin wandering into a den of randy pirates. “I want them both.”
Another long pause. “We can agree to your… request, sir, if you would kindly sign the release I’m forwarding to you now concerning the accidental… excuse me, the unscheduled revision to model MA-P65, as well as an addendum concerning your request to personally retain both models for the evening.” The doorbell rang again. “We will amend your original contract at no additional expense to you as a thank you for being a loyal and long-term client of Confidential Companions.”
“Thanks. And now can you… turn him back on, or whatever it is you do?”
“Of course, sir, if you’ll just return the signed release form?”
Oh, bloody hell! “Yes, yes, just a minute.” Doorbell again. I went to the monitor on my desk and swiped the screen to wake it up. My inbox was pulsing with a soft blue glow, and pinching it open, I scanned for the message from the company containing the all-powerful release form. The doorbell sounded once more, and I told the house, “Please inform the guest at the front door that I’ll be with them momentarily!” Then I opened the release, fingered my signature on the screen in the space provided and sent it on its way.
“Is that satisfactory?”
“Quite,” the man’s deep voice responded. “Once again, may I thank you for your continued patronage and I hope you have an enjoyable evening.”
“Thanks,” I said. “End connection.”
I turned around and he was up on his elbows, looking at me. It made his abs pop in a most absurd fashion and the sheer breadth and size of his chest and the two fat nipples mounted there made me gasp in sudden surprise.
“Hi,” he said, smiling. “Let’s fuck.”
He was a long, tall, warm drink of pure sex. His eyes once again sparkled with life, and his cock was hard and pulsing and ready to be sucked, drooling a thick string of precum onto his rippled belly. My own cock throbbed in response, and I sucked a heavy dose of his masculine scent into my lungs.
“Hold that thought,” I said. “And don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
There was a Level 4 in my bed, with something dangerous and risky awaiting us. I could feel our bond strongly, and it felt like he did. He was happy, and horny, and very confident. He wanted me badly, and I felt his desire rising when his gaze locked upon my naked ass as I left him behind in the bedroom and moved through my darkened home toward the front door.
Someone was waiting outside. Someone very large. Lightning flashed in the sky, outlining his massive form, and thunder rumbled deeply. I stood in the foyer of my home, before the entrance, and said, “Open.” The door slid sideways with a whisper, revealing the size and shape of my new guest.
“Hello,” the man said, and his voice penetrated me like a hard cock against my prostate. “I believe you’re expecting me.”
The Level 5 Companion reached out to me, placing his hand—warm, soft, strong—around my neck and pulling me towards his huge body, covered in a navy blue suit complete with a pressed white shirt and perfectly knotted tie. Then he bent his lips to mine and kissed me like no one had ever kissed me before.
I swooned against his mass, and I could smell him, too. What was it that they did to these men to make that scent so strong and enticing? Did everyone else they encounter have the same reaction to it, or was it altered depending on whom they were assigned?
It was dark on the portico outside the entrance to my home. I had not instructed the house to engage exterior lighting, and he held me in his embrace as I shook from the orgasm that his kiss had produced. My balls ached. How could I keep this up? Where was I producing these ejaculations from? Had the man in my bed done something to me? Perhaps it had been placed in my drink at the bar? What was the explanation?
“Thank you,” he said. I felt his voice rumble in his broad chest, and I felt the hardness of his muscles surrounding me. “Do you want to do it out here in the rain, or may I come in?”
His voice sounded amused, confident, strong and forceful. He was asking me permission, but I had the distinct feeling that he didn’t care if I gave it or not. “Come in,” I said, and he literally lifted me into his arms and carried me back inside my house as the door slid closed behind us.
“I understand that we’re not alone,” he said. “And that you thought I wouldn’t be enough for you.” He was looking down at me and then he smiled. “I like that.”
“Fuck,” I said. I was completely unprepared for him. Power radiated from him like electrical waves. I had the sense that if he wanted to, there was nothing at all beyond his capabilities and strength. The man could fucking go into my downstairs weightroom, apply his large hands to the ceiling and raise my entire house off its foundations. “Can I….”
An eyebrow rose on his majestic head. “Of course you can,” he answered.
Of course I can. Was there any request to which he would even contemplate saying no? “Lights, 75 percent,” I said, because I wanted to get a better look at him. “You can set me down now,” I offered. “I think I’ve recovered sufficiently.”
“Maybe I should kiss you again, then,” he suggested, pushing some stray strands from my forehead in a tender fashion. From such a hulking brute, the gesture made my breath catch.
I swallowed hard. “For the moment, I just want to enjoy some eye candy.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding. “I’m at your service.”
He set me on my feet and straightened for me. He was certainly large, but it was difficult to tell if he was physically bigger than the man in my bed. “How tall are you?”
“I am two-point-one meters tall, approximately. I weigh 156 kilos, out of these clothes.” He paused, then asked, “And when do I get to strip out of these clothes?”
“When I say so,” I answered.
“Oh,” he said, “you and I are going to get along very well, indeed.” And then he stood there and allowed me to admire him.
A man in a suit is a special thing, particularly if the suit is well-tailored to the man inside. And, of course, this one was. He wore a dark grey chalk-stripe three-piece suit, worsted wool, with a crisp white dress shirt and a brick-red tie knotted into a Windsor. He looked both perfectly at home in it, and ready at any moment to burst its seams to reveal the undoubtedly glorious body beneath. His hair was dark brown, like mahogany or chocolate, and cut in a conservative fashion as if he were overdue for his job on Wall Street. It was combed into a part, and cut very short on the back and sides.
His face was clean-shaven, which accentuated its acute, masculine angles. His eyes were nearly black, inside heavy-lids giving him what some people call “bedroom eyes.” Full lips, turned up into a soft, knowing smile (he evidently enjoyed being admired so openly and lasciviously) and sideburns ending at his earlobes.
He was a MAN. Capital M-A-N. And the suit was trying its hardest to camouflage that in addition to his height and weight, he was packing some serious muscle underneath all that expensive and expertly-cut fabric. I made a small noise, something like “ooh” or “oof” and he put his hand on his crotch and cupped himself.
“And you haven’t even seen the best parts, yet.”
I met his storm-dark gaze and said, “Anticipation is sometimes its own reward.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed. “Your home is lovely,” he said, though his eyes stayed locked on mine. “When will the others arrive?”
“In your party for this evening.”
“There’s just me,” I explained. “Oh, and… the other… one.” I glanced toward my bedroom where my naked companion awaited my return.
“Yes, the other one.” He sounded dubious.
“Didn’t they tell you why you’re here?”
“For the usual reasons, I had assumed.”
“And what are those?”
“Whatever you wish them to be.”
He smiled. “Without limits. Without rules. Without permission.”
“Except for my permission.”
“Always.” His handsome face tilted and one elegant eyebrow arched. His dark eyes sparkled and his teeth shone like pearls. “You’re very unusual.”
“How can you tell?”
He paused, allowing his eyes to scan my nakedness. I let him look at me, unashamed and unafraid. “I can tell,” he said softly. “This should prove to be a very interesting evening.”
“For us both, I hope.”
His other eyebrow rose to match its brother. “Oh?”
“Now, I think.”
“You asked me when you get to strip.” His smile told me everything I needed to know. “But slowly, please. I want to enjoy this.”
“I can assure you, sir, you will enjoy every second you spend with me.”
“I don’t think ‘satisfaction’ is quite adequate for what I have planned for you.”
His words—the way he said them as well as the words themselves—sent shivers up and down my spine, and my cock twitched of its own accord. He stepped forward and grabbed my by my prick, his grip smooth and firm and warm, and then something happened.
Something… some sensation… surrounded my cock and a thick, hard shock of sexual bliss erupted within me, centered there, where his hand was. It was as if, again, there was some kind of electric sexuality that he possessed, and which he could control and emit at will. The sensation, unlike anything I had ever felt, shook me and made my knees go weak and the breath caught in my throat. I nearly came again—I probably would have if I had anything left in my over-burdened balls.
I was beginning to understand why this man would normally service an entire party of other men. What was in his kiss? What was in his touch? How could he do these things to me so easily? And if that was what his lips and hands could do, what the fuck was I going to feel when he was shoving himself in my ass?
“What was…?” I asked in a whisper.
“A taste of things to come,” he growled. “Open your eyes. You won’t want to miss this.” He stepped back, placing his electrifying touch to the knot of his tie. “Perhaps you should sit down, before you fall down.”
“Perhaps I should.” My cock was still happily twitching and throbbing as the memory of his touch lingered there, like sparks and cinders from a fire dancing along its length. My asshole twitched, too, and I realized that the sensation—the pure sex—had traveled there as well. I flopped back into one of my Barcelona chairs, feeling its warm leather caressing my butt, and settled in to enjoy the show.
He loosened his tie and pulled it from around his thick, muscular neck. He was smiling the whole time, probably anticipating my reaction, or merely happy to be able to strip himself naked for me. Either way, the effect was one that broadcast both supreme confidence and lustful happiness. He enjoyed stripping for me. He wanted to show off what he had. And he wanted to watch my reaction as he unveiled himself to me.
The jacket came off next. He struggled a bit to remove it from his muscular frame, shrugging it from his mountainous shoulders and pulling it off his bulging arms with some effort before tossing it to the other chair. Then he was unbuttoning the vest, one button at a time, and he pulled that off, too.
Now he stood there wearing his tight, wool slacks and a crisp, white dress shirt. It was still buttoned up to his chin, and the effect was as if someone had taken a bodybuilder who’d just spent the last 24 hours pumping himself up to his maximum size, and then painted a business outfit on him. I could see the muscle shoving against the cotton and wool. And he paused for this effect, standing there with his hands at his sides, balling them into fists with restrained need to be out of the clothing.
My cock had plumped up to another award-winning erection in anticipation of this reveal. He looked like an animal forced into men’s clothing, but there was an elegance and beauty to him, as well, like this. Fully clothed, but nearly naked at the same time.
He undid the top button on his shirt. I could see the bulge of his biceps and chest as the muscle swelled. Then, without preamble, he placed his grip on the placket of his shirt, pulled his arms apart and ripped the shirt open.
Buttons flew everywhere. He was wearing a ribbed cotton athletic shirt beneath, and the material was stretched thin across his body so that I could see the darkness of his nipples and the wealth of fur that caressed the broad hemispheres of his huge pectorals. His nipples, large as half-dollars with pencil eraser nubs, pushed outward on the lower circumference of the squared-off globes mounted on his chest.
He ripped the rest of the shirt free as if the cotton were paper, and I could see his arms now exposed, the densely-packed brawn surmounted with fat veins. More of his shining fur coated his meaty forearms, and a wealth of moist curls was peaking out from beneath each deep armpit.
His smell erupted strongly as he exposed his upper body. God, he was magnificent. More than I had hoped for, really. And nearly enough to make me forget about the other beautiful man awaiting me on my bed.
He paused in his striptease and folded his arms across that chest. Everything bulged forward and my cock pulsed in happy observance of the man’s show of Alpha superiority. His smile was subtle. He knew what he was—who he was—and he could certainly see the effect his body was having on my body. And even though I had to believe that any man, no matter what his sexual proclivities might be, would have had the same reaction to this man’s incredible beauty and perfection of form, it appeared to me that my reaction pleased him, as if there was some doubt that I would approve and appreciate the god that stood before me.
“Shall I continue?” he asked. His voice was soft thunder.
I swallowed and tried to breathe. “If you like,” I said, trying to sound detached and failing quite miserably. I placed my hand on my happy hard-on and started to slowly stroke myself as I stared at the vision before me.
He lowered his arms and sank down, folding his perfect body to untie and remove his shining black dress shoes. My god, the man’s shoulders. How… how could he have built those? Lobes and folds of power swelled up beneath his ruddy copper skin. They were basketballs, but separated into distinct wedges of raw, flexing brawn. I think my jaw dropped open but I was no longer in complete control of my senses.
Then he stood again—Jesus, the man’s abdominals! Jesus! He was barefoot and if I were the type to worship a man’s feet, I would’ve been groveling on the carpet to suck each of his beautiful toes inside my mouth like ten perfect cocks. Feet were never a thing for me, but in his case I’d make an exception.
He was unbuckling his belt and pulling it from its loops before dropping it to the floor. Then he paused again. “Shirt first? Or would you prefer to see…?” He rubbed the ungodly bulge thrusting from his loins, indicating that my wish was his command.
“Shirt first,” I managed to say, though how my tongue was still working was a mystery to me.
He placed his hands at the hem of his too-tight undershirt and started to strip it off his torso.
I was glad I had requested the shirt first, because I nearly came again as he exposed his upper body to my disbelieving eyes.
No one looked like he did. No one was supposed to look like that, at least not in real life. No one could develop a body so perfect, so balanced, so beautiful. Artists, perhaps, could imagine it. Some might even be able to convey the masculine form in such flawless beauty. But men—men who walked the streets in your city, men who existed in real life, men standing in your living room stripping naked for you—real men never looked like this.
In the end, like his dress shirt, he merely ripped himself free of it. The muscles of his arms bulged fiercely, and he bent his back and shoved his broad, massive chest forward and ripped the shirt from his body like tissue paper. Then he stood there for me, pausing again for effect, and allowed my eyes to attempt to drink in his perfection.
He was breathing slowly. His chest rose and fell. The bulging egg carton of thick brawn on his belly expanded and contracted. Indeed, a thick forest of curls wound across the mountains of his chest, and wound through the valleys of his abs, and retreated in a thin, perfect like that pointed down toward the center of his body, where that heavy basket promised so much as it bulged between his legs.
This was an act of sex. I had no doubt at all. If this was all he did tonight, I would have been satisfied. My god, I hadn’t even seen his cock, yet, and already I knew that he was the most beautiful and sexiest man on the planet. I could feel it, feel him, as if he were radiating sex.
All that was left were the pants. I wasn’t sure I would be able to take him in complete naked glory. “Oh my god,” I said, or maybe I just thought it. The room was spinning. I felt giddy and drunk and massively, massively turned on.
I watched his fingers go to the hem of his pants. I watched him unfasten the top button and pinch the zipper’s latch between his fingers.
Here it comes, I thought. My eyes are going to burn away and my brain is going to sizzle. I’m not sure I’m ready for this—but I have to see it. I have to!
He pulled down the zipper and I realized, both to my relief and my disappointment, that his cock was wrapped inside a jockstrap. I could see the cream-white mesh material as it pushed its way forward, no doubt overburdened with its cargo.
He unzipped and pushed the dark wool slacks off his massive thighs. I had never seen leg muscles with that level of intensity and definition. They flared outward like folds of pure power, flexing and bulging to remind me that they were made of the man before me, and not hard steel or granite.
He was now all but naked, save for the jockstrap that was attempting with all its life to contain the monster within it. He turned around for me, because he knew I wanted to see his ass.
I gasped audibly as he revealed it to me. My god. My god. My fucking god. What an ass. What a perfect, beautiful—it was the very model of a man’s ass, the ass that all other asses longed to be, the ass that made you feel ashamed that the thing would ever have to be covered up, because it was so… so… My god. My motherfucking god above, what an ass.
It seemed framed by the cream-colored straps of his jock, with deep divots dug from the fully-formed muscular globes arching outward with power and beauty.
He flexed for me. I watched the two globes rise and kiss, watched him flex the mounds of brawn with expert finesse. And then he was bending over and opening for me. His thighs flared widely and the muscles of his buttocks stretched and elongated. A strong whiff of him assailed me as if this, his beautiful rosy pucker, the tight perfection of his asshole, was the source of his power and the wellspring of his sexuality.
I knew that could not be true, that I had not yet been granted a vision of the true source of all masculinity, but as I gazed in awe and wonder at his ass, I knew that inside I would find nirvana. Pure bliss. Utter ecstasy. Complete and total sexual perfection.
His hand appeared and moved over the muscular hump of his butt. He moved his strong fingers over and toward the moist, hot hole and then circled it slowly with his middle finger—his fuck you finger—stroking and caressing and worshiping himself with his magical touch. Then he pushed inside, both entertaining and torturing me. He withdrew his finger and it glistened with his juices. I ached to suck that digit between my lips. I wanted a taste of him, I wanted to know that sensation.
He stood up to his full height again, closing the gates of heaven to my eyes and allowing me to gaze again on the bulging, muscular grandeur of his ass. I could hear him sucking his finger. Pulling the masculine essence of himself inside his warm, wet mouth, tasting the pure male sensations of his perfect butthole.
Then he pivoted once more, and there it was before me. The overwhelming culmination of everything that had come before it.
His thumbs were hooked into the elastic waistband of his jock. He was slowly moving them in and out, from crotch to hip and back again, lowering the thick elastic band millimeter by millimeter. I could not look at his face, I was mesmerized by the anticipation and excitement manifest in the final reveal of his magnificence, but I was sure he was smiling with complete confidence and control—the ultimate Alpha ultimately exposed.
If I had any fantasies of maintaining my composure, they were all about to go out the window. Because he then did something I had never seen before—I wasn’t even sure it was possible, but… his cock began to stretch, lengthening and thickening inside the elastic pouch that held it. The jockstrap seemed ordinary enough, which is perhaps why it could not contend with contents so extraordinary.
As his cock grew, its dimensions and attributes manifested against the jock’s stretching material. It began by drooping forward, pushing against the cage like a wild animal needing release. It pushed farther and farther, inch by inch, until the straps began to pull away from his body by the sheer size of his manhood.
The broad waistband began to thin as it, too, stretched forward. His cock was unstoppable, pushing mightily and without apparent trouble, and then I heard the first tear.
It was unbelievable. Did he really propose to accomplish what it appeared to be happening? Could he?
His cock was still growing, seemingly of its own magical might. He wasn’t pinching his nipples or stroking its length or doing anything at all other than simply standing there, watching me watching him—or, rather, watching me watching his cock growing.
How long was it already? Nine inches? Ten? And it showed no signs of slowing, let alone stopping.
Another small tearing noise. His cock was pushed forward like a dousing rod from his beautiful body, pointing at its object of desire. The jock sagged from the weight of his balls and was being slowly stretched to the breaking point as his cock—his huge, strong, impossible cock—continued to grow. Now I could see the rips in the athletic garment, and they were occurring at the point where the head of his prick was pushing with fierce and unyielding determination at the end of the jockstrap. I could see the kiss of pink flesh, now, peeking through a small hole that was, by tiny bits, expanding.
Now the jock’s pouch was pulled far from his body and the straps were trying to dig into his flesh. The waistband was fraying. It was impossible. It was awesome. Using his cock—and nothing but his cock—he was intent on destroying the cloth cage that held him back from showing me his true magnificence and utter masculine perfection.
I could not take my eyes from his amazing show. Nothing else mattered. The pressure was building. The suspense was terrible. My excitement—and my own cock’s delight—was growing with every passing second.
Twelve inches now? More? How fucking big was he?
The rip opened up and I could see the small, lovely mouth of his prick. It was drooling clear honey. He was turned on. Why wouldn’t he be? Maybe he was perpetually in a state of sexual excitement. Maybe it took all his concentration to keep his monster at bay, and this was no challenge to him at all! My heart sped up and I felt hot and wet and incredibly horny. He looked hard as a rock.
I looked up at his face. He was watching me, watching my reaction, perhaps measuring my pleasure at what I was seeing, at what he was showing me.
Then, as if he knew that the show’s finale was overdue, his cock simply tore itself free, surging forward and ripping open the jockstrap’s material, stretching toward me as if to enter my mouth whether I wanted it to or not.
And by god, I did. His meat was succulent and prime and swollen with power. The head blossomed from its cowl and drooled a silver thread to the floor. He moved his hands inside the straps at his tight, narrow waist and ripped himself completely free of everything, utterly naked and beautiful.
He stood there, now, with his cock pulsing with hard, dull throbs as it rose upward, swelling larger still. The monster was streaming a flow of precum from its mouth that drizzled along the red, shiny shaft toward two fat balls hanging inside the skin that held them. Massive, too, and I imagined them filled with cream that would erupt with enough force and copiousness that he’d rip the very roof from my home and create a new galaxy in the sky. I knew that he could do it, if he wanted to. He could do anything.
Unveiled at last in his glorious perfection, my cock was throbbing and my brain sizzled and my body was sweating with lust and need. His scent was overpowering and the untapped and irresistible capacity of his body radiates outward like light and heat from his perfect and beautiful body.
I looked at his prick and my jaw dropped open as if in preparation to attempt to surround its girth. I was scared and excited in equal measure. “How big are you?”
His chin rose slightly. “I expect you are referring to this,” he said, indicating the erection throbbing so prominently before him. I nodded. “25.5 centimeters.” I swallowed drily, thinking that couldn’t possibly be right, he was never so small, before he added, “Soft.”
I took a slow breath to steady myself, watching his erection throb and drool. “And hard?”
“40.5 centimeters.” He said it with a hint of pride, but also very businesslike. A statement, not a boast. But, Jesus! A 15-centimeter difference from limp to erect?
“Impressive,” I complimented.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“But worth it,” he said. He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “You are very unusual,” he repeated.
“Why do you say that?”
“Most other men I have been with seemed to prefer to pretend that I am not different from them. They didn’t want to… see me. Watch me. Watch me change.”
“The real me. What I am. And what I can do. And how I can do it.”
“I love seeing you. You’re…glorious,” I said. And I meant it.
“Thank you,” he answered, and he looked somewhat surprised. “Now I really want to meet the other fellow. It sounds like you’ve been having a very interesting night, indeed.”
“It has been… mutually beneficial.”
“Undoubtedly.” His cock was grandly throbbing, ready for whatever task I wanted to set it.
“Probably. Can I what?”
“Cum? On command?”
He smiled, and then he did it. A fat gout of cream audibly emitted from his thick, powerful erection, merely because I wished it. If it was accompanied by an orgasm, he did not seem to outwardly feel it. He was simply pushing a heavy load of rich, warm cream from his balls and up the inches of his rock-hard prick. “Shall I continue?” he asked, as the last drizzling drops of his shot clung to the glassy dome of his hard-on.
But it was curiously…unsexy. “No,” I answered. “I think I prefer to make you cum using more conventional methods.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but there’s a certain lack of… effort. If you see what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I fully understand,” he replied, truthfully.
“Perhaps you should talk with my other companion for the evening. He knows what I want, now. He understands. And maybe you should hear it from him.”
“If you prefer,” he answered. He gazed down at the creamy mess clinging to his cock head and asked, “Would you like to lick me clean?”
The question seemed so pedantic. And then I realized why. “You didn’t bond with me.”
“Level Five and above bond for life. I assumed that this was for one evening only.”
His answer shocked me. “For life?”
A nod. “Yes,” he said. “For life.”
I looked at him, at his beautiful face, at his perfect body, and thought about that. “When you are bonded, then, there are special….”
He grinned. “Very unusual. Yes, when I bond with someone, it allows us to share particular sensations and emotions through the bond. The bond is… more intense. On several levels.”
I wasn’t sure I understood that, given the level of intensity that the other companion and I were sharing. How could it be more than that? What other levels? I realized I hadn’t answered his original question, as his erection continued dripping onto my floors, so I said, “No, let’s save all that for later. After you and my friend have had a chance to meet.”
“Of course.” Then he… I could hardly believe it. He bent himself down and took the whole of the bulb of his cock head inside his mouth and sucked himself clean with evident enjoyment. His cock even seemed to arch itself toward his mouth, as if he could physically control where it pointed—and perhaps he could. He rose again, wiping the corners of his mouth, and I watched as his impressive hard-on quickly grow limp, delating to its more usual glory, looking thick and heavy as it hung above his large ball sack. “The bedroom, I believe?”
I nodded. “Follow me, please.”
I turned and walked toward the bedroom, and indeed my other companion was there on the bed, as I had asked, naked and beautiful and perfect. “I missed you,” he said, and I could feel honesty in the bond, before the other Companion entered after me, and his gaze focused on the other man’s huge frame, and the bond conveyed his curiosity and wonder. “Hello,” he said, in simple greeting.
“Hello,” the Level 5 said back. “How are you?”
The newly-minted Level 4 smiled. “Nearly perfect.”
“So it appears,” his friend observed. Then he looked at me. “Have you enjoyed his services?”
“He’s very, very good at a number of things. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve both had an… eventful evening, so far.”
His eyebrow arched. “A number of things? But not everything.”
“We haven’t done everything,” I volunteered. “Believe me, we were on our way, but then….” I shrugged and let the man’s new and improved size speak for itself.
He was, indeed, huge. But after watching the Level 5’s striptease, the other man in my bed seemed small—which was a ludicrous observation under any other circumstances.
The Level 5 looked at the Level 4, spread-eagled on his back, with his hard-on pulsing a steady rhythm against his 8-pack abs. “Seems a shame to leave him lying there like that.” He gazed at me, towering above me, a massively muscled giant with a stormcloud gaze and a cock that would choke, well, anyone. “Do you mind if we have a little time to ourselves? I understand this is an unusual request, but these are unusual circumstances.”
“I suppose… is that all right with you?” I asked the man in my bed.
He looked at me and smiled. “Of course.”
I turned to the Level 5 and was surprised at the look on his face. He was staring at me with… concern? Shock? Bewilderment? I asked him, “What’s the matter?”
“You asked him if he would be all right with the request.”
“Of course I did.”
“But… he’s yours.”
I huffed a gentle laugh from my nose. “I’ll let him explain what we’ve been up to. It’ll be easier, I think, than if I tried to do it all over again with you.”
I smiled, but did not answer. “I’ll leave you gentlemen alone. Just come see me when you’re ready. I’ll be in the living room.”
He said, that giant god-man, that ‘he’s yours.’ He belonged to me. I could do anything with him, ask anything of him, and he would do it. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
I glanced at the closed door to my bedroom and wondered what those two men were doing. Were they even men? They looked like men—hell, they looked much better than any man I could imagine, let alone encountered. Bought and paid for, they were both ‘mine.’
What a world we had created. Were they clones? Not really, or if they were, my mind was spinning at the thought that there could be more than one of those men out in the world. Were they even adults? How old, in years, were they? Grown for specific purpose, loaned out or bought outright, programmed, as it were, to be exactly what they were. Perfect sex machines. Perfect sex partners.
But not exactly human. Not born from a womb, and not raised by parents, and not given status in our world like I was. And I was fine with that, really. There were still probably people, somewhere, who remembered what it was like before corporate breeding, before life—a life—could be patented and trademarked and copyrighted. Before some entity started making these perfect beings and loaning them out for a price.
I sat down on a long leather couch and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows towards my pool, and the pouring rain, and the unrelenting storm. So many of these, now. Climate change had climate changed. They tried to control it in the population centers, but weather is weather, isn’t it? The seas tumble and roil, the skies open up, the winds push and pull, and here I am, sitting on my comfortable couch, watching the world trying to rip itself open while two beautiful naked men are in my bedroom doing… something.
I looked at the closed door and wondered what went on inside. Did they have secret panels that opened up for maintenance? They weren’t automatons or androids or robots, they were flesh and blood, made of muscle and bone like I was, but entirely different. Simple, in some ways, and very complicated in others.
I thought about the differences between them. There were the physical, of course. My dick throbbed again as I even considered the larger of them, and his beauty and power and overwhelming presence. How could he ever function in the real world, anyway, given that level of perfection? Bred into his every cell, pumped up by augmentations and amplifications, and then polished to a perfect shine.
And then there was my first companion. Watching him grow and develop had been exciting and wondrous and amazing. It turned me on much more than I would have imagined, and the end-product was simply staggering. Were it not for the arrival of his replacement, I would have said he was…
But my ruminations were interrupted when the door re-opened, and the two naked men stepped from my bedroom and came over to where I waited on my couch. They were smiling, and looked perfect and perfectly content and happy. The Level 5 looked as beautiful and perfect as I remembered, and curiously, the Level 4 still owned a raging erection that wagged and wavered as he walked toward me.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” the larger of the two men said. I had nearly forgotten his voice, its richness and power. “May I congratulate you on your perception and generosity of spirit?”
“I… guess so? I’m not sure….”
He glanced at the other man and said, “He has told me what has been transpiring between you. As I thought, you have had a very unusual evening, so far.”
I shrugged. “Not so unusual.” I looked at the smaller (though it seemed ludicrous to think of him as ‘smaller’ than anyone) of the two and said, “I merely told him how to make me happy, and he did all that I asked. I believe that is what I contracted for.”
The taller man nodded his dark-maned head. “Indeed.” Then he said, “You are aware of the inherent risks involved when engaging in relations with a newly-evolved Companion?”
“I signed something,” I explained. “And I heard the warnings and all that. So I’m aware.”
“Very good. And I believe you wish to proceed with your plans?”
I nodded. “That’s my intention.”
“And that you wish me involved as well?”
I looked at the other man and asked, “Is that okay?”
His smile returned to his gorgeous face and he glanced at his companion and nodded, saying, “Of course!” I felt love and desire and a throbbing sexuality through the bond. Oh, he was okay with it, all right.
“You still.. you’re still aware of my instructions?”
He stated, with a smile, “You want me to act according to my own desires and inclinations. You want my body to react naturally. If I am aroused, I will allow myself to become aroused, and allow my body to react accordingly. I will not behave in a manner only because I know it will please you, though if your pleasure is manifested in my behavior or reactions, you will allow that.” They were the exact words he had used earlier, spoken exactly the same. I glanced at his throbbing prick, wondering why exactly he was so aroused at the moment.
But I said, “Exactly right.” Then I looked at the Level 5. “The same goes for you.”
His eyes flickered at the instruction. “I had not expected….”
“Regardless of your expectations, the same goes for you. While you’re here, while you’re with me, I need… I want you to be free with your actions and desires. I assume that you are expected to do and say and act according to my desires, but I don’t want my desires to take precedence over yours.”
“That’s… that’s not an easy request.”
I had to smile. “That’s what he said.” I stood up, wanting to make my intentions explicit. “I think I understand your dilemma. There’s a bit of a logic loop involved. Your instructions are to do whatever I tell you to do in order to make me happy. But my instructions are not to do whatever I tell you to do, and only to do it if it makes you happy—and also to do whatever it is that makes you happy whether or not it makes me happy. So in order to make me happy, you may be required to do something that doesn’t make me happy.”
“Just so,” he said, in his deep and powerful tones.
“I understand that, but that’s what I’m telling you.” I looked into the depthless darkness of his eyes and asked, “Can you do that?”
His eyes searched mine. Was he trying to find a way out of it? Was he trying to see if I was being truthful? We had no bonding, so there was no way for me to discern his understanding or acceptance of my instructions. Then his body—his immense, gorgeous, perfect body—seemed to relax a bit, as if he had been at attention the entire time and I had released the strings that held him, and he said, “I will attempt to comply.”
“I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.” But his words sent a slight shock of desire and anticipation and excitement through me. My cock throbbed at the idea that I could fulfill this man’s wishes, rather than the other way around. And it would not be because I instructed him to do so—it would be because he wanted it.
“Very well,” he said. “What do you wish to do now?”
“No,” I said, attempting to poke my index finger into the hard, meaty muscle of his prominent and breathtaking chest. “What do you wish to do?”
I watched his full, sensuous lips curl into a smile, and his dark eyes twinkled like black gems. His gigantic manhood began to swell and lengthen. His demeanor changed slightly and I sensed a thrill of desire and excitement and anticipation erupt from his huge frame. He seemed all at once both dangerous and wildly desirable.
The smaller Companion sent a sudden gush of sexual excitement and wonder through the bonding, and I felt an accompanying rush of heat wash over my naked flesh. It felt, in the moment, as if the very air inside that room had changed, and the strong, intoxicating scent of the two beautiful men grew nearly overwhelming.
“I have an idea,” he said at last. His voice was gruff and hard and deep, and he lifted his muscled arm and set it across the mountain range that topped my Companion’s shoulders. “Something I think we all will enjoy.” He looked at each of us, and then his smile returned and the sexual heat in the room surpassed volcanic levels.
The fact that the three of us were already naked was actually a bit of a disappointment for me. I enjoyed that facet of any seduction—the anticipation, the expectation, the hope and desire—perhaps more than the sexual acts themselves. Flirting, hinting, eye contact across the room, his hands moving across his own body, that sense that he finds himself attractive and he knows I do too. The promise of carnal knowledge, without the knowledge itself. And now we were already there, and already naked.
I’m sure that feeling came through in the bond, but if so, perhaps my initial companion’s excitement at the prospect of what was about to occur was too strong to feel it.
I could certainly feel him, and that sensation was a bit odd. I could feel him. Feel his emotions and whatever else was happening mentally with him, though not his actual thoughts. And what was oddest to me was that I could discern his emotions from my own, even when they were of the same family. My desire and his desire. My lust and his lust. My curiosity and his. Similar—but different.
Perhaps this is what happens to everyone. Perhaps this was what love is. Feeling someone else, knowing them so intimately, sharing everything—but maintaining your own sense of being. I doubt that it was supposed to work like this, given what he had told me some hours previous in the restaurant where we met.
That seemed so long ago, now. Was it really only hours?
I wondered what the Level 5 had planned for the three of us, and whether I could even keep up with the two of them. I had not been augmented. I had no amplified abilities or attributes. I was merely human, and standing now with these two godlike beings, it was both intimidating and a bit…deflating. Looking at either of them was a sensual and sexual feast in itself. Just the…potential…of what they were capable of. The prospect of being with them, and the promise of everything that either of them, alone, could accomplish made my heart race at the same time that my cock started to feel a bit…overwhelmed.
“Kiss him,” my companion told the largest man in the room, but looking at me. “He needs to be kissed.”
“Does he?” The Level 5 looked at me with lust and pride and an eagerness to please. “He did seem to enjoy it rather considerably.” He glanced at his partner in crime. “Perhaps we should both kiss him.”
“Oh, I was planning on using my mouth, don’t you worry about that,” the Level 4 said, and he slipped from beneath his friend’s arm and sank to his knees, taking my cock in his gentle hand and sucking me between his warm, wet lips.
God, it felt good. His lips and tongue were ardent in their dedication to the task. He swallowed me easily, slipping my cock inside his talented mouth and practically pulling the cream from my balls.
Then the larger god came around and cupped my chin his his warm hand and bent his mouth to mine and kissed me, in that way that he could, and sent a sudden jolt of sex into my body and made my cock spring into action. The man sucking my joint was rewarded with a gush of cream, and he sucked and swallowed with evident joy.
Was this all they wanted? Not that I was in a complaining mood, of course, but it felt a bit like they were still all about me. I couldn’t speak while the Level 5 was working his lip-based magic, and I could hardly think, what with the professional-level blow-job I was receiving below. My head was spinning, my heart was racing, my cock was streaming and everything was right with the world.
But this was not what I wanted.
And the moment—the instant—that thought popped into my head, even jumbled up with the intense pleasure that was overwhelming me, the kiss ended. His touch fell away. I came my last few pumps and the man with his mouth on my prick sucked me clean and then they were looking at me, with expressions of wonder on their handsome faces.
The larger one looked at his friend and said, “Interesting.”
The other man nodded. “As I said, he’s a fairly unusual man.”
“Whuh… what? What happened?”
“I need my jacket,” the Level 5 said, and he strode back towards where his grey chalk-stripe suit was lying. He lifted the jacket into his hands and felt inside the breast pocket, extracting a small black leather zippered pouch. Turning, he unzipped and opened it, extracting something small and shiny, and something else that looked like a handkerchief. He looked at me and asked, “Do you trust me?”
The idea that either of them would do anything I didn’t want had not really entered my head, even though I had instructed the opposite. It just was unheard of, it never—ever—happened. Trust him? What the fuck was going to happen? What idea had I planted in his augmented and amplified brain? “Yes,” I said.
He smiled. God, I wanted to melt. I felt something like love traveling through the bond with the Level 4. He rose from his knees—I noticed that his own cock was still rock-hard and throbbing—and he was smiling, too. They were both so beautiful. Handsome and beautiful. I could smell them both, each had his own unique scent, but together it was an overwhelming masculine musk that was funky and sexy and inherently male.
The larger one said, “I have two gifts for you. You’ll need them for my—our,” he amended, nodding at his compatriot, “plans this evening.” He looked me up and down, and I suddenly felt very naked under his penetrating dark gaze. “I trust you’re not shy or inhibited.”
“Only around you two,” I joked.
He smiled. He got it. He held up a small silver vial, or bottle, with a screw cap. It was about the size of my pinky, but half as tall. “This is for later.” He placed it in my hand. It was cold, and slightly heavier than I anticipated.
“Is it a drug?”
“It’s… an enhancer.”
“Like an amplifier?”
He nodded. “But temporary. Standard issue. You’ll find it very helpful.” Then he held up his other hand and the handkerchief I thought he was holding dropped from his palm as he held the edge in his fingertips. “And this is for now.”
I took it, and realized it was a very light, very sheer, very small pair of underwear. It was little more than a pouch and two thin straps. It was made of something like silk, only thinner even than that—thin enough that whatever it held would be easily discerned. “Why do I need…?”
“It’s a…personal trinket. I ask only those I favor to wear it.”
I unfurled it, finding it little more than a trifle of delicate cloth and spaghetti straps to hold it on. “There isn’t much to it,” I remarked, finding it a bit feminine for my taste.
“There doesn’t need to be. But you’ll need to dress, and I was hoping you’d indulge me by wearing this underneath. I think you’ll find it stimulating.”
Looking at the two of them, the large, beautiful, naked men in my home, I was already over-stimulated, but I did tell him to do what he wanted—and I did agree to the terms of the verbal contract between us. Perhaps he had a fetish that I could indulge. But I did ask, “Why do I need to get dressed?”
“Do you have a public nudity license?” I shook my head as my brow furrowed in curiosity. “And why should you? But without it, you’ll need some clothing. My friend and I will not.”
“Where are we going?”
His smile was positively lecherous. “Out.”
I started to pull the very, very skimpy pair of underwear up my legs, but the two men both stopped me. The Level 4, still sporting his raging hard-on, said, “Allow me, please?”
Then he was on his knees again and slowly moving the garment up my legs. His touch felt amazing. He was caressing more than dressing me, and I suppose with anything that minuscule, ‘dressing’ was an inappropriate term anyway. He slipped the two spaghetti straps over my hips and the third found its way into the crack of my ass. They seemed almost to disappear against my skin, and then he was fondling my cock and balls, and spending probably too much time and attention on getting me arranged just so inside the tight, elastic pouch. He adjusted, petted, stroked and squeezed me with utter lust, as if enraptured or in worship of my equipment. Needless to say, it felt very good.
Once ‘covered,’ the sensation was very like being totally naked. The material clung to my contours to the extent that even the veins on the shaft of my eager prick could be seen. My sword was sheathed, but only in the loosest possible terms. And, as promised, it did feel very nice against my skin. Maybe it was something they wore themselves, though I couldn’t see its purpose given their proclivity for dropping trou with only the slightest provocation.
“Excellent,” the Level 5 said. Then he moved his touch against the pouch to get in his own sample of my goods, stroking, petting, rubbing and squeezing as I started to plump and swell. The material stretched accordingly, and I realized that it would cling to me no matter how excited I became, and I watched myself growing hard and long as the flesh-colored garment wrapped me in its silken warmth. He tilted his head as he gazed upon my happy cock and balls and added, “You look good in them.”
“I may never take them off,” I said, because they felt at least as good as they looked, caressing me now with their silken softness.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he advised. “The transport outside—is it yours?”
“Yes,” I verified.
“Any travel restraints?”
“Unlimited within the city and county. 24-hours notice for travel within the state, and 48-hours outside. 300 miles before refueling.” Some transports were not allowed on the highway systems, and some were required to carry a certain number of passengers or a weight differential to economize fuel consumption. I did not mention these as there were three of us, and I knew that the two of them alone would more than compensate for any weight requirements. “Are we going far?”
He did not answer, and instead he placed his hands on my shoulders and steered me towards the bedroom, and then into the dressing area beyond.
I would not say that I was a clotheshorse, but I did enjoy having a large variety of options to choose from. I find a daily uniform—whether that’s a suit or a pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt—worn day in and day out to be frightfully tedious. As I entered with him, the room lit itself and the closet doors slid aside. “May I?” he asked.
“If you wish,” I answered, placing myself in his hands.
He stepped forward and I felt the heat of the other man’s body behind me, and then the Level 4 was wrapping me in his strong arms, and moving his deft touch down my belly, digging his fingertips into my public bush and then caressing me again inside the silken garment. God, it felt good. Almost better than being naked. I swooned back against his chest and he kissed my neck, breathing warmth across my skin.
The Level 5 turned around—almost a shame, really, considering that ass of his, but the view from the front was no less spectacular as my cock was being petted and played with by the other companion—and held up a dove-grey cotton dress shirt and my navy blue Prada, well tailored and very chic, if a tad conservative. A matching dark tie in a subtle stripe was over his massive shoulder. “May I dress you?” he asked.
The Level 4 sighed and I felt a twinge of disappointment and even sadness in the bond. He didn’t want me covered up, he wanted unfettered access to everything. But I nodded and 4 let me from his embrace as 5 removed the clothing from the hangers and set about dressing me like the most handsome and muscular valet on the planet.
Again, even this simple and rather straightforward activity seemed a seduction of sorts. His hands were everywhere, and he was copping a feel of every crack and crevasse as he pulled the pants up and buttoned the shirt, taking special pleasure in tucking it in. Then he put shoes on my feet and I was ready for whatever was going to happen next.
Neither of them put on a stitch of clothing, and suddenly the situation—me, covered and dressed like a banker on his way to the office, and them, naked and vulnerable—had my cock twitching. Just this simple difference between us, even though they outweighed, outsized and out-muscled me in every possible dimension, placed me in a power position. I felt a surge of dominance, which had been entirely missing when we were all naked. I could not possibly compete with either of them on any physical level, but now that we were a tableau of two naked men and their handler, I felt not only their equal, but their superior.
“Perfect,” 5 said, folding his meaty arms across his massive chest and examining his handiwork.
I adjusted my cuffs and collar and put on my best game face. “Am I presentable?”
“You’re fucking flawless,” 5 said. The unusual use of an off-color word made my cock twitch, particularly coming from that deep, powerful voice. He stepped around me and pulled my trusty wool gabardine Burberry trench coat out and held it up for me. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and he came around to tie me inside. “I think we’re ready.” He looked at 4 and said, “You’re a bit of a challenge.”
I asked, “Why’s that?”
“Well, he’s not going to fit into his old clothes, is he?”
“And who tore themselves out of their shirt?” He started to object, but I held up my finger. “Not to worry. I know it will come as something of a shock, but this isn’t the first time strange men have come into my home only to have nothing to wear on their way out.” I cocked my head, observing, “But you’re both licensed for public nudity, right?”
5 nodded. “Clothing, in this case, isn’t optional.” I started to ask why, and he mirrored my finger gesture. “Best not to ask too many questions and spoil the surprise. You have clothes for us?”
I eyed them and said, “I’m not sure they’ll fit very well. My usual partners are a bit less….”
“Impressive.” He smiled. “But lets’s see what we have.”
The Level 4 stopped in the drive and looked up, holding his arms outstretched and turning his face toward the heavens. Water drenched his skin, and the lightning flashed as if he were causing it to happen. “He loves this,” I said, feeling that sensation through the bond. He was wearing a red cotton hoodie, currently unzipped and flapping in the wind, and the tightest pair of jeans the world had ever seen. Frankly, I have no idea how he managed to squeeze into them.
The Level 5 rumbled a laugh, rich and warm. “Why did you choose him?”
“A friend recommended him, said he was the best.” Then I looked at the Level 5, and added, grudgingly, “and he was the most I was willing to afford.” I looked back at the other man, standing fearlessly in the tempest, and added, “He’s not at all what I was expecting.” Then, his body, his beauty, all hit me, and I said, “He’s so much more than that.”
The large man looked at me and said, “You gave him a gift. That’s very rare.” 5 was wearing his suit, and a black v-neck t-shirt that tried its damnedest to camouflage his muscles. The color matched his dark gaze and jet hair, though he did look a bit like a bodyguard.
“Did I?” That was not my intention, but I supposed it was true. “I think he gave me something as well.”
5 seemed to consider my answer, then he looked into the sky and said, “We had better be leaving. It’s only one night, you know. And then it’s over.”
I sighed. “Yes,” I agreed. “Then it’s over.”
We strode together from the canopy of the entryway of my home toward the vehicle. I grabbed the Level 4 by the hand and pulled him with us—he seemed reticent to leave the storm’s fury behind. The doors of my car opened as I approached, and the Level 5 bent his tall frame down and examined the interior as the rain pelted his back. When his handsome face regarded mine, he looked a bit concerned.
“It’s a bit small,” he remarked, speaking loud to have his deep voice rise above the storm’s din. “I doubt it’ll accommodate us all.” He cupped the bulge of his mighty groin into his hand, indicating his true meaning. A joke? That seemed… uncharacteristic.
But it was a fair concern. City vehicles weren’t designed for large groups—or large people. Fuel economy, parking spaces, road maintenance—everything benefitted from these smaller vehicles. Except when one was trying to convey two very (very) large specimens of perfect masculinity around.
5 climbed into the rear seat. 4 was at the other door and climbing into the front seat adjacent to my own—occupying the same seats in which we had arrived. I recalled his manipulations of me, his constant desire to fondle and please me, and my cock pulsed a sudden sexual throb of desire.
As I sat down, I remembered meeting the man next to me, and how he affected me, and then considered how he affected me now. It was different, more intimate and personal. Had it really only been a few short hours since I met him?
As the car pulled away from my house, it took barely a minute before 4’s strong hand found its way to my inner thigh, and he was caressing my leg with an almost tentative touch, as if seeking my release to go further. Feeling my position of superiority, I elected not to acknowledge him, and I felt a surge of excitement in the bond. This was what he wanted. The flirting, the exploratory touch, the nature of a first meeting all over again.
His hand moved up my thigh. He brushed my balls, then withdrew. Certainly, to outward appearances, this act was ludicrous. The man was nearly naked from the waist up, his skin wet with rain and shiny. His cock was a prominent tube stretching along his thigh, and the bulge of his loins was indecent bordering on obscene. He was overtly sexual and lustful, but I was enjoying the play as much as the other player. Then I heard the deep, masculine tones of the other passenger, who said, “I hope you two are not doing anything untoward.”
Something dirty. Something obscene. Salacious and explicit. “I am not doing anything,” 4 said, as his hand moved fully onto the bulge of my manhood, and he squeezed meaningfully.
“Good,” 5 said. “because I’m watching you two.”
Disapproval. Disdain. God, it felt good to be naughty. I tried to adjust my position without allowing the man in back to see it. 4’s left hand was struggling with my zipper, wanting entrance inside my pants. Should I help him? Would the other man see?
I decided not to. I decided he should work for the goods inside. How much did he want me? How far was he willing to go?
4 said, “We’re not doing anything.”
“I trust you,” 5 answered, “it’s the other one who worries me.”
I kept silent as the hand at my crotch worked its way inside my pants. Then there was the warmth of his palm resting against my cock. Unmoving, a pause in the action, first base accomplished, and waiting for the opening to steal second.
He squeezed me, gently, his gaze focused through the windshield as if this were our little secret. I could feel his thumb on the head of my prick. Rubbing ever so gently. I bit my bottom lip to stop the moan that was rising in my throat. “It’s not far,” 5 said. “We should be there soon.”
No time! There was no time! 4 had to get his move on or… his thumb hooked the top of the delicate pouch that held my goods inside. He struggled to push it down, to release me from my silken cage. He meant to pull my cock out of my pants—and then what? Wouldn’t 5 see? Wouldn’t he know?
I swallowed hard. God, I loved this. I truly did. The secret acts. The fear of being discovered. Being disobedient and defiant, seeking pleasure where it was denied. I was growing erect, swelling larger against his hand. That would make it harder for him to extract me. But the thought of it—the added danger—only made it surge faster. He petted my monster to calm me, but it didn’t work. I was growing too large, too thick. He had to act fast.
He cast a quick glance my way, a sort of pleading look. He wanted it, badly. He wanted my help, but I was unwilling to give it. I was the prize. If he wanted it, he had to work for it. We rounded a turn and the car shifted and he used the opportunity to push his hand in and tug at my hard-on. The skin caught on the zipper and a twinge of pain accompanied the feeling of accomplishment as it sprang into view. He squeezed me hard and rubbed his thumb across the piss slit and I sat up and sucked in a breath.
5 asked, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” 4 answered for me, “nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. We’re both fine.”
5 seemed to growl his discontent. It made my cock throb and my balls tingle. I looked at 4 and he licked his lips, and I knew. He wanted to suck me. He wanted to bend down in his seat and put his mouth around my hard cock and somehow—without 5 finding out—he wanted to suck me off.
My vehicle said, “Three minutes to destination.”
Not enough time! Not enough! It was dark in the car, but the dashboard illumination and the street lighting—it would be clear if he went down on me. So I said, and I couldn’t believe I said it, but desperate times and so forth. I said, “Lay your head on my lap. You look tired.”
5 actually laughed. I could hear his smile in the deep rumble. Oh, he was enjoying this as much as we were.
“Well,” 4 said, “I am kind of tired.”
“It’s been a long night,” I agreed, with a fatherly tone. “Rest for a few minutes.”
4 looked back at 5 with a mischievous glance. He laid his head on my thighs with my cock hot and throbbing against his face, sticking out his tongue and licking its hard, shiny surface. “This is nice,” he said.
“It is,” I agreed. “Very nice.”
He kissed me, and licked me, and put his lips against my cock and sucked me. It wasn’t a blow job by conventional definition, but I was getting off on it. It was crude and immature and playful and wicked. We were small boys getting away with it. I fucking loved it.
“We are arriving at your destination,” the car said. 4 sat up, pretending weariness, and I started trying to push myself back inside my pants when a hand pushed between our seats and grabbed me hard. “What is this?” 5 demanded, squeezing my hardness in his mighty grip.
“Nothing,” I said, lying.
“It doesn’t feel like nothing,” 5 stated, roughly, as he stroked my erection with expert finesse. “It feels like a hard cock that needs sucking.”
It was 4’s turn to laugh. “That was my intention,” he said, looking backwards, “but someone was making it very difficult.”
5 asked, “Did you enjoy your dress rehearsal?”
I looked down at his large hand on my happy cock. “Very much so.”
He squeezed me. “Good, because now it’s time to take the stage.”
There were, of course, myriad bars around the city where anything goes. Hell, getting a drink was secondary from the bartenders because they were often too busy getting or receiving blowjobs, or plugging the holes of their patrons with their usually ample cocks, or any number of other activities that had little to do with standing behind a bar, looking pretty. It was all too common, now, for these places that used to be so relaxing and friendly to turn into veritable sex buffets, because that’s where the real money was. You could walk into any store and buy a bottle of booze—not so, or at least not yet, for sex. It was still something to go out for, to to get delivered.
I found it both interesting and telling that he—or they?—had decided to start the evening here. Was this for my benefit, again? Or did they have some other surprises in mind?
There was a reason I chose this place to rendezvous with an intimate associate, and I suspected that there was a reason we had found our way back here. “Is somebody thirsty?”
4 said, “It was my suggestion. I had a good time here with you, if you recall.”
“I do,” I said, remembering his naked body at my table, his cock throbbing at my mouth, awaiting my instruction. Perhaps the two had discussed the meeting while they were alone in my bedroom.
“I wanted—I needed—to go somewhere with people,” the 5 explained. “I don’t mean to suggest that this wasn’t fun, but I was built for… more.”
The way he said it—more—was so suggestive and loaded with eroticism that I nearly came all over again. The word sank into my ears and suggested images of more everything, in copious and endless amounts, more cock, more sex, more skin, more men. The man was insatiable, literally. Alone, I couldn’t satisfy him. And that, alone, excited me greatly. An overwhelming male sexuality only slightly caged and ready, even now, to erupt with all his restrained volcanic fury. I had only seen a whisper of his power.
And I knew the Level 4 was as anxious as I was to jump into the depthless ocean of his passion, desire, lust and physical capabilities. Perhaps he already knew what to expect, and what the other companion’s skills and limits were. I could feel, again, my beautiful man’s excitement, arousal and anticipation.
How could one man—any man, no matter how augmented and amplified—hope to take on so many others at once? He only had one cock, one mouth, one ass. What was he planning on inside this public establishment? I had released him from control, mine or anyone’s. He could do what he wished to, whatever pleased him, and that would please me.
I could hardly wait to find out.
He was, it must be said, a handsome man. Everyone here was handsome. But he served both as the entry filter and a sort of advertisement, did he not? Would you, passing by door after door, prefer to stop at a place with someone out front who looked, shall we say, less than presentable, or would you, as any other normal person, not prefer to have something nice to look at while sipping your cocktail?
He was already standing, but his stature seemed to grow slightly more erect as we approached. Taller than me, and better built, too, but he was no match for the companions following behind me like pets on leash. “Good evening,” I said.
His eyes were flickering between 4 and 5, like a small boy trying to decide between favored toys. “Good evening, sir,” he said, “nice to see you again.” Though he wasn’t seeing me at all.
“Lively crowd tonight?” I asked.
He finally looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, astonishment or excitement that registered on his features. “I… uh….”
5 spoke up. His voice, that deeply-registered earth movement with musical overtones, sounded even sexier, as if he was already working his magic on this poor man’s libido. “Do you mind,” he asked me, “if I try loosening his tongue?”
Curiously, I answered, “Please.”
He moved forward and kissed the man’s mouth. Having had this same greeting, I knew what to expect even if the bouncer did not. I watched with amused envy as his body shook with the orgasmic release that I had enjoyed, and the man’s eyes went very wide and then shut very tightly as he was delivered from earth to heaven in the space of one kiss. I glanced down at his crotch and saw that he was gifted with a rather impressive piece down there, pressing insistently against his pants as it spewed forth a copious load, staining the material with a spreading dark patch.
4 said, “You really need to teach me that trick.”
5 pulled his mouth from the bouncers and said, without turning, in a low growl, “Not a trick so much as a talent.” Then he said, “I trust you enjoyed that as much as I did. When do you get off.”
Luckily, no one had the temerity to suggest that he just did, though we all had to be thinking it. He said, “T… Two.”
5 said, “I’m not sure we’ll still be here, but I hope you’ll join us later.” He kissed him again, lightly, and without, I presumed, the benefit of his other talent. Then he moved to the door and held it open for the other two of us, and we all went inside.
The place was not packed, though it was more lively than when I had been here earlier. The clientele was diverse—something else I found refreshing and stimulating—with men and women intermingling in various collections of preferred partner. Some were undoubtedly married, though perhaps not to each other, and others were prowling for a one-night stand. No one here was searching for true love. True love wasn’t found in bars, at least not as a rule. The lights were dim, the atmosphere was cool, and the music was soft.
“I have a table reserved,” 5 said. Of course he did. How or when he had done so, I had no idea. Perhaps when 4 and I were performing our little drama in the front seat, he had been quietly busy with his phone. We walked through the lounge and all eyes regarded us with curiosity and, no doubt, desire. Even if I was not the object of that desire, given the competition’s advantages, I was enjoying the attention and the heat, as well as the curiosity. Who has I, they had to be thinking, to be in the company of these men?
I must admit that I enjoy being envied, no matter the reason. I’m sure the men with me enjoyed it, too, assuming they knew what it was. Perhaps being eternally envied mitigates the enjoyment? Who would not envy them their beauty and power and sexual attraction? They were magnetic, though most of the clientele attempted to elicit an attitude of detachment, watching our movements with lowered eyes rather than outright gawking.
5 pulled out my chair for me, and 4 sat next to me as the larger man asked, “May I get you something to drink, sir?” I raised my eyebrow at the title, and he smiled. “As sir wishes,” he said, as if he knew my desires without answer. I looked at 4, who was grinning madly, though his beautiful features tried hard to look calm. The game was beginning, and we had assumed our roles.
Whatever happened now, I was no longer in charge.
5 turned and strode toward the bar, and I watched his ass move as he walked. Jesus, that man’s ass! Holy fucking hell! Just as I felt my cock throb, I felt 4’s hand upon it again, squeezing and stroking me under the table. I knew he was an expert—a professional—but I was feeling like he was even more expert at me. His touch knew where to go, what to do, and how to do it so that I was immediately growing hard in his hand. I looked at him to say something, but he indicated his partner at the bar and he said, “Watch.”
I turned. 5 was standing at the bar. Men and women were moving towards him like bees to a flower. He was literally magnetic. He was speaking to the bartender, who was as mesmerized as the rest of them, and then he smiled and the other man, I think, came in his slacks. 4’s manipulations of my privates was going to cause a similar reaction shortly, and I rested my hand on his to slow the inevitable, wanting to prolong the night’s activities as long as possible.
He leaned towards me and whispered into my ear. His breath was warm and his voice was sweet. “Don’t worry,” he said, “we’re in control now. Nothing will happen unless—or until—you want it to.”
“I’m close,” I said, squeezing my asshole to cause my dick to surge in his grip.
He squeezed back. “I know, but you won’t get there until I let you.”
“How can you…?”
“Trust me,” he said. They were always saying that. But I relaxed a bit and found that, true to his word, he was somehow managing to keep me right there at the edge, within sight, but never so close that I was going to lose myself. He squeezed and stroked and rubbed me, providing constant pleasure that made my cock grow rock hard, but the danger passed once I accepted his words, and I came to trust that he could keep me right there for as long as he wanted to. “Watch,” he said again.
I turned my attention back toward the bar.
5 was talking to another man—no, two other men. They were captivated by him, clearly, and their predatory glances at his various attributes showed that they were in clear competition for this man’s goods. He outclassed them by a mile, standing head and shoulders taller than either and his broad back nearly eclipsed my view of them, though it was easy to see that 5 had chosen these two out for their beauty.
5 looked back at me and the other two followed his gaze. I looked back at them as 4 leaned over to kiss my cheek and neck while his hand continued to charm my snake. One nodded, and the other smiled. A drink in a cocktail glass was delivered to the bar and 5 took it into his hand and turned, walking back towards me as the other two gentlemen followed along, dogs sniffing the pack leader’s scent.
He set my drink down and said, “I hop you don’t mind, sir. I’ve brought along two new friends who I think you might find amusing.”
I looked at them as they stood on either side of him. “Gentlemen,” I said in greeting, looking more closely at them.
The first couldn’t be more than legal age to even be inside the bar. He was beautiful, a blonde-haired surfer with several piercings along the edge of his left ear and lips like soft pillows. His eyes were very large and blue-green, the color of the sea. He had high cheekbones that lent his youthful visage a porcelain doll quality, and he wore a tight-fitting T-shirt that hugged the taught, defined muscles that lined his torso and displayed a pair of pierced nipples. His jeans were nearly as tight as my overgrown companion’s, and one arm had a sleeve of tattoos ending at the wrist. A variety of rather garish rings were arrayed on both hands, and his smile was open and eager. His golden hair was arranged into a sort of mohawk on his head, and he was trying to grow his beard, but his youth was proving that a challenge. There was a cockiness in his stance, and he seemed to be moving even when standing still.
The other man was older than I, though he had clearly been taking care of himself. A conservative haircut, his salt-and-pepper mane, the cut of the suit and his very expensive shoes meant that this was a man of means, like myself, though possibly he had made his money rather than having it handed down to him. He was successful and a confidence radiated from him, almost the polar opposite of the young blonde. He owned a mustache that reminded one of some porn star from another era long gone, though it worked well on him. He was mature, self-assured and drop-dead sexy, and I suspected that under that suit there was a killer body that was likely covered in more salt-and-pepper fur, and maybe some nice, juicy nipples to chew on as well.
The young man said, “Dude,” and thrust his hand toward me. I took it and he shook mine with vigor and surprising strength, as if testing my own or proving something to me. 4 squeezed my dick, indicating either that he liked this guy, or that he didn’t. I suspected the former.
The other man was a gentleman through and through, also offering his hand and shaking mine with a firm ease. “Happy to make your acquaintance,” he said. His voice was rich and deep, and it was my turn to push back at 4’s grip. Here was a man, for certain. Powerful, self-confident, mature and capable.
I sipped my drink and said, “Please, have a seat,” to them both. The blonde spun the chair around backwards and straddled it, shoving his open crotch forward with blatant intent. I liked that. The older man pulled his chair out and sat down, relaxing into the seat and crossing his legs, ankle over knee. 5 moved behind my seat, remaining standing and at attention, behaving like a bodyguard over me.
The blonde leaned forward anxiously, his youthful features animated and his eyes moving from man to man, as if grading us in order of attractiveness. “Well?”
I looked at him. “Well what?”
He thrust his chin at 5 and said, “Dude here said you had some fun in mind, and wondered if we did too. I said, ‘hells yes, dude!’ Fuckin’ A, I have fun in mind. So when do we get started?”
The older gentlemen seemed to find amusement in the energetic youth’s question, and his lips twisted up into a grin. But he said nothing.
5 leaned down, “Too much?” he asked, looking at the blonde.
“I think not,” I responded. “I’m anxious to see what happens once we get started.”
“I am started,” 4 said, squeezing me. I rose up in my seat and my toes curled.
An eyebrow slowly rose on the older gentleman’s face. “Someone is enjoying a head start,” he observed. “That hardly seems fair.” Then he leaned over, placing his hand around the blonde’s neck, and pulled their mouths together for a kiss. A rather lingering, full-lipped kiss. One that had me feeling jealous. The man’s hand then reached toward the blonde’s crotch, and with an expertise only gained with age and wisdom, he was easily unzipping the young man’s pants and pushing his hand inside.
“Fucking hell,” the blonde said, and he grabbed onto the man and pulled him in to continue the kiss.
“A fine start,” 5 said. His hands were on my chest, and his fingertips were on my nipples. Shocks of bliss erupted through me. The older man looked over and up at 5, and their eyes met over the table, though his hand never did stop moving inside the blonde’s crotch.
“You’re a Level…5?” He nodded in confirmation. The gentleman than looked at the man stroking my hard-on and asked. “And, Level 3? Or 4?”
The older man looked at me with new respect as the blonde opened his eyes and looked at them. “Auggies? Holy fuck!” His blissful smile turned angelic. “Heard about you, but never met one before.” He looked at me and added in a semi-whisper, “Kinda out of my league.”
I semi-whispered back, “I think they can hear you.” His face registered surprise. I was growing to like this kid more and more.
“You’re familiar with us?” 5 asked. I looked up at him and thought, fucking hell, man, you’re taller than anyone in the place and you’re practically bursting out of that finely tailored suit, it isn’t that hard to guess.
The gentleman nodded as he glanced down at whatever his hand was currently doing with the blonde’s equipment under the table. “Familiar,” he said, “yes.”
He looked back up, at me, as the blonde cooed out a soft groan of bliss. “Both yours this evening, or is he partnered with you?”
4 had explained partnering, so I said, “Yes, they’re with me, though I don’t think they’re ‘mine,’ necessarily. And, no, we’re not partnered.” Jesus, the things 4 could do with just one hand! I swallowed hard and tried to concentrate. “It’s a long story,” I explained.
The gentleman looked at the three of us and said, “No doubt. I should like to hear it.” Then he did something with his hand the blonde cried out and bit his lower lip, as the older man added, “Later.” He moved in toward the blonde and kissed his lips, again, and the young man grabbed his neck and held on, practically shoving his tongue inside the other man’s mouth.
“I like his enthusiasm,” 4 noted. “That will come in handy.”
“I thought the same thing myself,” 5 agreed. “Sir, may I remove my jacket?”
He was keeping up appearances quite well, playing his role to a T. “If you wish,” I answered. “But do it over there so we may all watch.”
“Of course,” he answered, moving with sleek athletic grace to the corner, and we all turned our attentions toward his tall, wide frame. He stripped the jacket from his torso, revealing exactly how tight the black T-shirt hugged his ultra-muscular body. The lounge was dimly lit, so not everything was overt, but there was enough light to see that the man was a monster, and that the shirt was not going to last very long in its struggle to contain his bulk. He put the jacket over the back of an empty chair and resumed his place behind me, arms folded across his massive chest.
“Impressive,” the gentleman said. He looked, again, at me. “Your first augmented companions?” I nodded. “And how are you finding the experience.”
“It’s much more satisfying than I ever imagined.”
My lips trembled into a smile. “Perhaps an inadequate turn of phrase.” I thought about all that had happened, all that I had done and seen, and all that these men had provided.
5 said, “If I have satisfied you, sir, than I am most extremely happy. My only goal is to endeavor to satisfy your every desire.” He was laying on a bit thick, but the gentleman seemed to like his response. The blonde was too busy moaning and squirming in his seat to be able to pay much attention.
“You seem quite able to satisfy your partners as well,” I observed.
He looked at the young man, did something, and we all watched the blonde tattooed loveboy practically salivate. “With age comes experience,” he said. Then he did something else that elicited a similarly extravagant reaction. “He’s also quite… responsive.”
“Oh, fuck yeah. Responsive me in my ass, daddy,” the blonde answered, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Gotta… oh, shit. Can you… can you… oh, fucking hell…”
“Shall I stop, then?” the gentleman inquired. “Wouldn’t want you spent so early in our little adventure.” He pulled his hand from the young man’s crotch and looked at it. A wealth of precum made the skin glisten, and he raised his palm to his mouth and licked the stickiness. “Nice bouquet,” he observed. “Could use a touch of cellaring.”
“Fuck you,” the blonde said.
“All things in time,” the gentleman responded.
“I take it that you two aren’t together?”
The blonde was about to speak, but the gentleman said, “Not as such, though I am beginning to think we should become much better acquainted.” It wasn’t clear whether that was because of the young man’s general demeanor, or because of what he was packing in his pants. “He’s rather… potent.”
“I like to think that I’m charming,” the blonde rogue stated, having seemingly recovered his wits. “Thanks,” he told the mustached older gent, leaning over and kissing him with uncharacteristic grace.
The older man looked down and observed, “You’re rather exposed, you know.”
The blonde only grinned and sat back, folding his arms behind his head and pushing his crotch forward, offering himself like a flagpole ready to be saluted. “Am I?”
He shrugged. “Does anyone here object? I’m feeling a little… randy.” He reached down to grab his cock, not so much stroking himself as slowly rubbing. “The monster needs some air to calm down. He’s very, very excited at the moment.”
“Indeed he is,” 5 observed, able to view the young man’s equipment from his height behind me. “And may I say that he is quite a handsome monster.”
“Thanks, buddy.” 5 nodded.’You could let yours out, too, if you wanted. I’m just sayin’….”
“If sir wishes,” he said, nodding to me. Then he asked, “Sir, may I take my cock out?”
“Not just yet,” I said. “No need to frighten anybody.”
“Fucking hell,” the blonde said, grinning.
“You’re an intriguing sort of fellow,” the gentleman said to me.
“Thank you,” I responded.
“I observe that your friend there has been dutifully handling your… shall we say… toolkit almost since you walked in, and you seem to be holding things together quite admirably. From what I know of Level 4s—and I know quite a lot—you must have remarkable endurance.”
“He’s quite good,” 4 volunteered.
“Genuine praise,” the gentleman observed. “I’m doubly impressed.”
“How do you know so much about my companions, if I may ask?”
The handsome older gentlemen smiled. “Of course you may. And the answer is quite simple. I’m an Augment, too.”
I looked at the older gentleman as he smiled, clearly enjoying the looks of shock that his revelation had inspired. An Augment?
‘Unexpected’ was an understatement. Augments were…they were young and virile. Augments were a catalogue of perfect beauty. Quite clearly, the man sitting before me was handsome, though not unusually so. Not in the same way that the Level 4 and 5 were, with their unsurpassed masculine splendor. I looked at him more closely, but he seemed ordinary enough to my eyes.
Still, I was dumbfounded, and the young blonde was clearly at a similar loss for words. It was 5 who broke the silence, asking, “You are a Prime?”
He shook his head. “I do not have that honor,” he said. He looked from 5 to 4 and something seemed to pass between them, an unspoken acknowledgment or mutual understanding. “How is it that a single man has a Level 4 and a Level 5 for the evening? Isn’t that a bit of an overkill?” Then he looked at me, and said, “Unless there is more to you than meets the eye.”
I looked down at myself and remarked, “I don’t know, I think what meets the eye isn’t bad at all.”
“Forgive me,” he said, “I meant no offense.”
“None taken, and I understand the confusion.”
5 said, “This evening has proven to be filled with a series of surprises. Suffice it to say that our host for the evening has a rather unique outlook, and that his instructions have opened up new…opportunities.”
5 rested his meaty hands on my shoulders. “He is quite exceptional.”
“Pardon me for saying so but…you don’t seem augmented.”
He also took no offense. “That’s understandable. I am a Level 2.”
“Foundational orientation,” 5 stated.
“Indeed,” he verified. “It is simply a matter of coincidence that we find ourselves together. I was under the impression that you were aware of my situation. I will leave if it suits you.”
“If you fucking get out of that chair, I’m going to fucking pin you to the floor,” the blonde announced.
5 said, “I was aware.”
“I suspected so,” the older—or was it the younger?—Augment answered.
“I don’t understand,” I said, because I didn’t.
5 said, “This is part of this evening’s surprises. I thought you would be interested in knowing a bit more about us.”
“I am,” I said, not mentioning that my intentions along that path had more to do with the bedroom than the library. Then I looked at the gentleman in question.
He smiled. “I am at your disposal,” he said. Now I had not only a Level 4 and a Level 5 for the evening, I had somehow ended up with a Level 2—though what the distinctions meant I had no idea at all, particularly now when I looked at this elegant gentleman. So I asked, “What is a Level 2?”
“Below Level 3, Augments are not contracted. There is a developmental process necessary before an Augment can be fully enjoyed. Level 1 Augments are sequestered at Residence during their initial development. Upon graduation to Level 2, we are allowed out for foundational orientation and reeducation.”
That all sounded rather dry and regimented. “I see,” I said, though I didn’t.
He smiled. “In short, I am…learning.”
“Learning,” I repeated.
5 said, “If I may, sir?” I turned to look up at him. “Among ourselves, at the residence, we are unfettered in our activities and passions. Sexual activity is rather more potent and formidable than you may comprehend.”
My brain started spinning, thinking about what I had been through already. “Even more than…?”
“Much more, sir. During Level 1 and Level 2 development, it is not uncommon to expect the same behavior when not at the residence. We are therefore sent outside to observe behavior and understand the limitations necessary to fully satisfy our hosts or partners.”
“Wait, so, like, you’re one of them…only not?” the blonde asked.
“In a manner of speaking,” he answered.
Although I considered the question impertinent myself, I had to ask it. “How old are you?”
He looked at me, and his smile never faltered. “I’m afraid that information is unavailable.” I suspected that Augments were grown or cloned or something, but the ones I had seen all looked more like my own 4 and 5, youthful and vigorous. Not that this gentleman didn’t look stunning—on the contrary, there was nothing at all about him that was unattractive. I remembered fantasizing about his body when he approached, and even now I wanted to see him naked before me.
“Augments come in several archetypes, sir,” 5 reminded me. “The Company endeavors to satisfy all client desires to the fullest extent.”
I recalled that I had not gone through the usual process of preference selection that was usual for contracting an Augment. I had asked for 4 specifically, based on my friend’s recommendation. He knew my ‘type,’ as it were, and certainly 4—and 5—were perfect representations of that. Looking at the man before me, though, I started to reconsider my severely limited view of what I thought was attractive and desirable.
I never had ‘Daddy Issues,’ as some would put it, but there was something undeniably engaging—even seductive—about the older-looking gentleman with his elegant demeanor and obvious self-confidence and sophistication. It made me wonder what—or who—else was in that catalogue of ultimate sexual satisfaction that the Company offered.
“Can a Level 2…?”
“I am entirely able to satisfy any desire you may have,” he said. His voice flowed smoothly. I was reminded of an English butler, as if Batman’s Alfred had been poured into the body of a retired pornstar and spent the last several years at the gym doing squats and bench presses. His diction was perfect, and lacked any discernible accent. I suppose I could’ve easily fit him into any fantasy I had around an older, albeit well-muscled and undoubtedly well-hung gentleman.
Which was, I also supposed, the point.
“What about me?” the blonde asked. He looked over, and by way of answer the Level 2 gentleman reached down toward the young man’s now flaccid member and quite quickly brought him back to steel-hard arousal using only one hand.
“I think the answer to that is, ‘yes’,” I said.
“I…I think the answer is fuck yes,” he agreed, breathlessly. The Gentleman—as I now thought of him—smiled at his young cohort. It looked both perfectly beautiful and perfectly salacious, as if the man were contemplating how to produce the perfect cup of tea for his partner whilst performing a blow-job naked.
I was breathless. During the conversational lull, the blonde asked, “What’s a ‘Prime’?”
I had forgotten that 5 had mentioned the term. I looked at the faces of each Augment and they seemed to be having some kind of silent discussion, until 5 said, “The Primes were the first Augments. They were humans who experimented with the procedures on their own bodies prior to the introduction of patented life.”
“In a manner of speaking. There were—are—four Primes, three men and one woman. Their success rate was…variable.”
I was finding all of this fascinating. “You’re a Level 2,” I said, nodding toward the older-looking man, “and you were a Level 3, having graduated to Level 4,” I added, looking at my evening companion, “and you’re a Level 5.” He nodded. I looked at the three of them and other than their general size—levels did seem to indicate that the models got bigger in every measurement as one went up the ladder—it was hard to otherwise see any difference in them.
4, still bonded, said, “My friend finds us interesting,” to the Level 2. “He released us this evening.”
If the Level 2 was surprised, it didn’t show on his mature features. “Both of you?” 5 nodded agreement. He turned to me, asking, “Are you aware of the possible complexities of your actions?”
I wasn’t, and I said so and added, “It’s all been fine so far. In fact, this evening has surpassed all my expectations, to a shocking degree.”
2 looked at my companions. “Are you enjoying your release?”
4 said, eagerly, “I am. I graduated in status in front of him. He is aware of the ramifications of keeping me with him.” It was a little weird to be spoken of as if I were not at the table. Again, the bonding came to my rescue. “I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that the situation is so….”
“Unusual,” 5 said, finishing his thought. I wondered if he did so to stop another word from entering the conversation, like ‘dangerous,’ or ‘unpredictable,’ but I felt nothing of those adjectives coming through the bond.
I turned to the Level 2. “You mentioned that you’re learning.” He nodded, tilting his head slightly. “What, exactly?”
“About you,” he said, and then, “Well, not you, precisely. I am learning about my role, and the expectations and behavior of others.” I suppose I looked confused, so he said, “It is a bit like cards. One can know the rules of cards by reading about them. One can then think that they can sit with other players at a table and ably play a round of poker, but chances are that one would lose, and soundly. Because the rules don’t really explain how to play, do they? They only explain who wins.
“It’s the same with my role. I know about social mores. I know about proper dress, and speech, and comportment. I know how to mix any drink. I know about recent entertainments, and old films and television shows. I know what one might know if one were able to memorize the contents of the entire internetwork.” I had the feeling that he had done exactly that—as had my companions. He went on, and his voice took on a more passionate tone. “I know where your erogenous zones are, and how to satisfy you, and bring you to orgasm. I know how to take you into my mouth. I know how to kiss your lips. I know where to touch you, and where you want to touch me. I know where to stroke to provide the most pleasure to a man or a woman. I can even see, quite literally, how your body is responding to me.
“But those are just the rules. Experience, you see, is essential, if I am to fulfill my role.”
I looked at 4. “You also went through this process?”
“Of course,” he said. That seemed to close the discussion. I assumed it was something that the Company didn’t like to speak of, and frankly it was putting a damper on the evening’s goal, which involved a lot more nakedness and a lot less talk.
As my thoughts turned back to sex, 4 lay his warm hand on my groin and rubbed his thumb along the shaft of my cock before grasping me rather forcibly. It reminded me of my gifts, the small silver vial in my trouser pocket and the sheer thong that so delicately held my equipment in its silken grip. He squeezed me. I could feel a tingle of pre-cum sizzle up the length of my engorging monster as if his supple lips had sucked it from my balls. I could feel the wet heat of it spread into the material. I looked up at 5 in his tight-fitted shirt and asked, “I believe you said something about plans for this evening?”
He smiled down toward me. I could see that same mixture of perfect beauty and raw sex in his grin. “Indeed, sir,” he growled. He took a step back and said to the other Augments, “Gentlemen, I believe we are wearing far too much clothing.”
4’s hand left my greedy hard-on as he stood up, and moved beside his taller, broader companion. Then the Gentleman rose from his seat as well, and walked around the table to stand with the other two.
I moved as well, maneuvering into the chair the Gentleman had vacated so that I could more fully enjoy what I presumed would be a very inspirational entertainment. Of course, I knew what lay beneath the clothing of my companions, but watching a man undress—even when there are no surprises awaiting me—is something I enjoy perhaps too well. I enjoy watching them. And I enjoy watching them watching me, looking for subtle hints, or not-so-subtle ones, from my reaction.
The blonde whispered, “Holy fuck, this is going to be fucking awesome,” though I suspected he said it more to himself than to me.
More than anything, I was curious about what 5 proposed to do this evening. What were these talents he spoke of, and how was he going to somehow satisfy the plethora of men and women in the bar? Having the help of 4 and the Gentleman would surely ease things, plus I and my new blonde friend were up for whatever the evening entailed. But he had given hints that there was so much more to him than met the eye, and given what met my eyes when I looked at him, my mind boggled at the promise and potential.
The Gentleman removed his suit jacket and lay it carefully across the back of a chair. Then his hands went to work to loosen his tie. His eyes were glued to the blonde’s face, which was interesting. Perhaps because he knew I was already bonded with 4, or perhaps because I had a contract with both 4 and 5, or perhaps he just preferred his face to mine. In short order, he was unbuttoning his Oxford dress shirt, pulling the tails from his trousers, and stood for a moment like that as a slim smile spread under his thick salt-and-pepper mustaches.
4 and 5 were looking at me. In unison, and almost as if it had been choreographed, they grasped the hems of their shirts and stripped them over their heads.
I must confess that even though I had seen them naked—indeed, had spent the better part of the enjoying their naked bodies—my breath caught and I gasped audibly. Could one forget how masculine perfection appeared so quickly? The beauty of form, the development of muscle, the display of power and authority made manifest before me? The broad, brawny chests. The thick, bulging arms. The masses of dark, soft curls winding across the expanses of bronzed flesh, smooth and soft as silk?
My eye was drawn to the movement of the Gentleman as his shoulders shrugged off the shirt he wore, and what I saw was…remarkable and breathtaking in its own right. Not nearly as large as my companions, his body was nonetheless as perfectly developed and marvelously masculine in its dimensions and display. He had something of a swimmer’s build, or perhaps more accurately a gymnast’s. As I suspected (and hoped) his chest was coasted in a forest of grey and black curls. His nipples looked inordinately large, but not absurdly so. They invited a mouth—no, they demanded it.
His belly was irrationally defined. The muscled beneath his paper-thin skin were of unobtainable perfection, each the twin of the other as they marched in unison down the center of his body. A thick, dark trail of fur streamed down the middle and pointed toward his groin, which now seemed to strain the crotch of his tailor-made slacks.
The blonde was chomping at the bit. His hands grasped the chair’s arms so tightly that the knuckles turned white. He was looking at each of these shirtless god, his eyes straining to take in all the insurmountable beauty before him like a starving man before a feast. His cock, still loose from his jeans, was throbbing a steady, hard rhythm and I had the impression that he was going to begin shooting cream like a geyser at any moment.
4, 5 and the Gentleman, now working as a trio, all set their hands to the fasteners of their trousers and peeled them open. As if on cue, I could see their cocks press forward to leave distinct impressions of their size, form and visible hunger on the material. Thick shanks of sex flesh leading down inch by incredible inch toward flaring, bulbous heads whose thick ridges formed unmistakable depictions of their perfect, perpetual, overpowering prowess.
Then they were slowly—achingly, torturously, sadistically slowly—pushing their trousers from their slim hips toward the floor, revealing in utter and uncompromising detail exactly how beautiful, flawless, powerful and testosterone-soaked their bodies were.
Then they stood naked before us. Gods made flesh. Awaiting our pleasure.
“Shall I begin?” 5 asked me. His eyebrow arched and a look of frightening and cock-hardening control and dominance flashed across his extraordinarily handsome features.
I could not speak, so I only nodded,
“Very well,” he said.
Quite suddenly, the room—and my brain—exploded in a concussion of pure, unfiltered, orgasmic sex.
Perhaps the brain shuts down part of itself and allows the animal to take over.
Perhaps…perhaps I am still coping with all that occurred in the time between I realized that 5 was loosing himself on the room and its inhabitants to a level beyond what he might have done if I had retained control of him and the time when everything returned to what I now laughingly call ‘normal.’ Because there is no normal, and there never really was.
But I will endeavor to entreat my words to tell something of what occurred there, and then, and to all the people involved. Though I cannot say for certain that my experience will mirror anyone else’s.
Imagine yourself in heaven. It doesn’t matter if you believe in the myth, and it certainly has nothing at all to do with dying and meeting one’s maker. Heaven, in this case, is the attainment of perfect bliss. It is the realization that you are perfect. It is living inside that feeling, and sharing it with everyone around you, and feeling yourself begin, almost literally, to shine like the sun.
But your light and heat, in this case, is sex. It is release. It is freedom. It is perfect physical ecstasy.
Not mere pleasure. Not even euphoria, which might last a few moments. No, you are living inside ecstasy. Every desire instantly and fully realized. Every wish granted. Every fantasy fulfilled.
That is what happened. 5 opened his lips and his voice said, “Very well,” and then things…everything…everyone….
I’m sure I came. Maybe I came with constant and continual orgasmic power. Maybe I was lost inside an orgasm. A perfect state of sexual rapture that went on and on. Maybe nothing happened at all, and it was all in my head.
Evidence would seem to prove otherwise, because when I came back from wherever 5 had allowed us all to go, I was most certainly stripped naked, and most certainly surrounded by many, many other naked people, entangled in their limbs and feeling the warmth of their naked skin against mine, and coated in gorgeous sticky ropes of cum as if someone’s balls had detonated with their overwhelming charge. My jaw hurt. My ass hurt. My cock’s unending throbbing was growing dim with blissful deflation. My breathing was short and sharp. I felt equally tired and energized.
But I had never felt better or more satisfied in my entire life.
“Holy fuck,” someone said. It sounded like my blonde friend, but his tone was groggy.
However, I could not have agreed more with the sentiment.
“Sir,” I heard 5 say. I turned about under the pile of gorgeous naked flesh and saw the three Augments standing beside us all, gods overlooking the sea of humanity. Each of the men, still as naked and overwhelmingly beautiful as the moment before the world tilted sideways, was smiling in that manner of theirs, equal parts elegance and licentiousness. “I trust you enjoyed yourself?”
‘Enjoy’ was hardly an adequate description, but all I could do was nod.
“Perhaps it is time to move on to our next…experience.”
“Uh,” I said, looking about me at the tangle of bodies.
4 stepped into the fray, gingerly moving his muscled bulk around and between the naked forms and offered me his hand. I could still feel the bond between us, as overflowing with love and desire for me as it had been all evening, and noted that my instruction for his cock to remain hard was still in effect. It was monstrous and gorgeous and even in my state of sexual exhaustion, I wanted him to take me now and fuck me senseless.
I accepted his strong aid and extracted myself, teetering on unsteady feet toward the augmented men standing remotely like generals away from the scene of battle.
“It was,” 5 said, “wasn’t it?”
“This is what you do? When you’re engaged for an evening?”
His handsome brow furrowed. “This is a taste of my skills,” he said.
A taste? Good god damn, what happens when he sets the table for dinner? “What happened?”
4 said, “It is a variation on what we did earlier in your bedroom, if you recall.” I tried to think back, though I assume my head was still a bit fuzzy. No doubt, he sensed my confusion in the bond and he added, “I referred to it as a suggestion, at the time.”
I remembered now. I remembered feeling like I had been given an opiate. He had simply unlocked something, through the bond, and allowed me to feel very, very good. An amplification of emotions, he called it, and compared it to adding salt to a good cut of meat. Making something that is already good more delicious. “I remember,” I reported.
5 said, “A Level 5 does not require the bond. I am able to unleash desire.”
“I’m sure there’s a more complicated explanation, but that is the essence of it.” I looked around at the collapsed array of naked bodies, all clearly sated in their sexual desires and I could hardly argue the point. “I must confess that I may have…underestimated myself.” He smiled nonetheless. “Pardon me if you’re having trouble with the experience. Some side effects may be unavoidable.”
I was about to ask what he meant by that, but 4 wrapped me in his strong, muscular arms and kissed my neck, pressing his huge naked muscles against my own nude form. I could feel his hard prick—thick as a tree limb and hot as molten steel—inserting itself into the crack of my ass. “You smell amazing. Like sex.”
His voice in my head was a potent nectar, making my blood heat up again. “Hardly surprising. I think I’m wearing five gallons of cum.”
“You wear it well,” he complimented. I was still lost in a post-sex haze of divine bliss. Some things hurt, and other things felt amazing. “Do you wish me to clean you?” He licked my skin with warm wetness and my cock—somehow—managed to pulse with fresh lust. As his tongue bathed my skin, his cock was sliding up and down inside the sweaty warmth between my well-worked butt cheeks.
“Let’s go outside,” I said, thinking that the rain would feel good on my overheated flesh, and it would provide a natural shower to wash me as it had done for him earlier in the evening.
“Pardon me, sir,” 5 said, “but I took the liberty of retrieving these for you.” He handed me the small silver vial and the whisper-thin sheath of material that had been holding my cock and balls. “I believe these will still absolve you of any public nudity laws. I’m afraid your other clothing did not quite survive the evening’s entertainments.”
I took the vial and 4 took the sheath, insisting on dressing me and arranging my equipment inside its comforting silken pouch. I looked at the Gentleman and asked, “Are you staying?”
He smiled. “I believe I shall find our missing companion,” he said, referring undoubtedly to the pierced blonde youth somewhere in the mound of bodies. “Something tells me he may still have a few tricks left up his—well, not his sleeve, I suppose, because that’s over there.”
“I daresay you’re right,” I agreed, thinking that the young man’s engines were probably still revving. “Thank you for an interesting evening,” I told him.
“Believe me,” he said, “the pleasure was all mine.”
The way he said it made me wish I could remember what had happened, because I had the distinct impression that he and I had managed some rather impressive sexual feats. I made a mental note to remember his face, in case I ever wanted to contract his services again. He bowed slightly and began to retrieve his own clothing as 4, 5 and I made our way through the dark lounge toward the exit.
We passed our friend the bouncer on the way out. Had 5’s sexual detonation been powerful enough to surpass the walls of the place? How far could he extend it? Or had he simply followed us inside, unable to forget that kiss that the giant Augment had given his lips? Either way, his body was every bit as gorgeous as I had imagined, and the man was packing some serious equipment down below, as well. He appeared to be sleeping—as, indeed, did all the other participants save me and the Augments.
I started to regret not meeting up with him when I realized that perhaps I had. There was some odd, faint memory of the man, and particularly of his voice and the feeling of that thick shank of meat sliding inside me.
“Yes,” 4 said to me as I lingered for a moment, verifying my unasked question. He had been with me, and I had been with him. He shared my pleasure in looking on this man’s innate beauty, and the realization that we had been together so intimately.
The storm raged on outside. We were buffeted by a strong gust as the door opened, and rain splattered against the hot flesh of my legs. As we exited, the entryway registered our presence and its face recognition realized that I had arrived in my own transport and dutifully reported that I was now ready to depart, summoning my car with silent efficiency.
We had a few moments alone. 4 and 5, naked and glorious, stood to either side of me as I stood in the storm and felt the wind and rain wash my skin clean. I lifted my face toward the sky and felt the water draining over my flesh. It was an incredibly sensual experience, and I felt as naked as my companions dressed only in that tiny, nearly transparent sheath of silken material caressing my cock and balls.
4 slipped his hand onto the roundness of my ass. Then 5 joined him, and the two men gripped me as if they owned me. I did not protest.
Shortly, my car arrived, pulling up to the curb and opening its doors for us. I thought about our trip here, and the exciting fantasy that 4 and I had enacted in the front seat. But now I wanted something else—something more.
Their hands on my ass had brought me again to the edge. My cock—impossibly—was throbbing hotly in the thin sheath that held it. My balls tingled. Although I knew I had just experienced what was probably the best and most complete sexual experience of my entire life, I was feeling a bit cheated because a lot of it, most of it even, was still a hazy remnant locked inside my head.
I wanted these men. And I wanted them now.
I leaned down and said, “Seats, recline, fully,” and watched as the interior quickly unfolded itself, the front seats sliding forward, the headrests tucking under, the seatbacks lying themselves down and the rear seat moving into the boot. Then I stood up and said, with dramatic flair, “Voila! A roving bedroom. Still might be a tight squeeze, but something tells me that none of us are going to mind that.”
5 climbed in first, I followed him (eyeing that luscious and meaty rear end) and 4 followed after. The interior was now surprisingly large—or at least, more accommodating than initially. Though only I could actually lie flat—if I wanted to—there was enough room for the three of us to pile inside, pile being the formative word. Our skin was rubbing up against each other, slick with rain but warm with sexual contact, and the smell was delicious.
I said, “Start,” to my saloon. The electric engine turned over, though none of us felt or heard anything. The dash lit up and the headlights turned on. “Where to?” I asked.
5 leaned forward and spoke some coordinates using precise longitude and latitude—I supposed he avoided a street address to add to the surprise—and the interactive map pinpointed our destination as the vehicle started forward.
It was only moments later that 4, his blue eyes shining in the darkness, reached over and started to fondle my privates, using his hand with expert finesse to bring me quickly back to a state of tumescent bliss. He did not even need to bring me free of the slim, tight pouch holding me inside, I could feel everything—every rub and stroke and tingling manipulation—with intimate clarity. He leaned over to kiss my mouth, pushing one well-muscled leg between my own and I could feel his heavy mass pressing against me. “Just getting you ready,” he said in a whisper. “Besides, you said I should do what I want to.”
“I recall saying something like that,” I replied, smiling. I kissed him back, grabbing hold of his wet mane and pulling.
“Good, then.” And he continued to deftly massage my cock and balls as he kissed me. 5, obviously unwilling (or unable) to restrain himself, placed his hand on my wet chest. His touch was warm as it moved across my body, and then I felt a soft kiss on my nipple that was soon accompanied by teeth that teased and tortured me. I groaned and my cock swelled into the other man’s hand, and he rubbed and squeezed me with growing force.
As we moved through the night and the storm raged above us, I was being pleasured by both men, though soon enough their attentions began to include each other as well, and the tight dimensions of the space aided our intimacy, forcing our bodies together in a tangle of limbs and cocks.
I could feel their equipment growing quickly hot and hard, rubbing their stiffness against my flesh as we kissed, fondled, licked, stroked and caressed each other’s bodies. Penetration of any sort, be it oral or anal, was nearly impossible, but I felt myself nearing another orgasmic release given each man’s heat and constant attention as we traveled. The rain slicking our flesh was quickly joined by sweat, deeply scented with each man’s testosterone and pheromone, and my little car soon began to smell like a locker room as we tangled and twisted ourselves together.
It was like it was in my living room earlier, but it was also different this time. One kissing me, one sucking me, but they were also pleasuring each other. Fondles, caresses, kisses, everyone exploring everyone. I was not the whole target of their passion, though I was certainly overwhelmed by it. But I knew—I could feel, physically and emotionally—that this was a three-way event. They weren’t just there for me, we were there for each other.
I was turned on in a major way. I was rock hard. So were they. I felt the urge to release, to fountain another fat stream of cum that would soak us all. “I’m gonna….”
“Hold on,” one of them said. His voice was gruff and hard and needy. “Hold on,” he said again. Fingers pulled on the thin sheath holding my erection captive, then, somehow, there was a mouth on my cock, plunging its warm wetness over my rigid member just as I gasped and released my load, shoving fervent ropes of sweet cream down the man’s throat as he sucked and guzzled with evident satisfaction. His ass had to be on the car’s ceiling to be able to do it, but I could hardly concentrate or form a coherent thought. The other man set his mouth to mine, silencing my blissful groans with a full-tongued kiss, and I was in heaven again.
One of them echoed my sentiments, announcing, “Oh, god, here it comes.” I think it was 4, and then I knew that it was 5 sucking my joint, because his mouth left my equipment and I had to assume he was now going down on his compatriot’s majestic erection, enjoying the fruits of his labors all over again as my own passions abated.
I kissed the man’s lips as his cock was undoubtedly delivering a fat gout of cum down his partner’s throat. More wet slurping sounds, long moans, deep grunts of satisfaction. The car smelled less like a locker and more like some sex dungeon, now—the raw animal scent of these muscular lustful men joined with the sweet aromatic heat of sexual release.
Then, as if timed to our passions, the car was slowing, and its soft, feminine voice announced, “You have arrived at your destination.” This was true in more ways than one.
I was gasping for air, sucking the sexually energized oxygen of the small space inside my lungs. Someone slipped the thin sheath of silky material back over my still-throbbing prick and aching balls. I was still hard, and probably wet with spit and cum. I felt the string-like strap slip between my ass cheeks and rub my wet hole. I was “covered up” and once again appropriate for public consumption.
We pulled ourselves out of the sexually steamy interior of my vehicle and stood in the storm. The rain was still pelting down, and it felt cool against my overheated skin. I felt naked, even if legally I wasn’t, and marveled again at the garment’s ability to provide that sensation. 5 noticed something and reached back into the car’s reclined seats to retrieve something, handing me that small vial he had given me at the house. “You’ll need this,” he said. “Trust me on that.”
“Where are we?”
He looked up at the building. It appeared to be a three- or four-level structure, though there were no exterior windows to delineate the floors. The door on this side, facing the street, was unadorned—even lacking any visible knob or lever.
“Will there be…?” 4 asked 5.
“Yes, and more than a few,” the huge man answered, grinning. “This is going to be fun.”
I was confused. “But… where are we?”
He looked down and winked at me. “Elysium.”
I knew the word, and its connotations. The Greeks invented it. Not merely heaven, as modern religions might construe it, but the place where mortals chosen by the gods—heroes, champions and paragons—go, the place of the chosen, the blessed, and the favored. Did he mean it literally, as if that was the name of the place, or figuratively? “Oh,” I said simply, not wishing to appear stupid or innocent.
4 said, “It’s a sort of club. Very private. Very…unique.”
How had I not heard of it? I was plugged in, I knew people, I was hardly out of the loop. “What sort of club?” If it was a sex club, why did I need the sheath to cover my privates? A public nudity license wasn’t required, nor a public sex license.
“Let’s go in,” he said. “It will all become clear.” He was smiling, and it was hard not to notice that his prodigious prick was already starting to swell and lengthen. It wagged like a tree limb in the storm’s stiff winds as he strode with purpose toward the doors, and I looked up at 4’s incredibly handsome face. His cock was also back at full steam, and he looked at me as I felt his passion, ardor and domination flowing through the bond. “You’ll enjoy this,” he said.
With these two men alongside me, what wouldn’t I enjoy?
4 placed his arm across my slim shoulders to urge me forward. His excitement, anticipation and throbbing lust came through the bond full-force into me, and it caused my own cock—only recently spent—to start throbbing in partnership with his, and I was growing increasingly carnal with each step toward Elysium.
5 was standing before the doors, and as my companion and I approached, I watched them open up for him without apparent action on his part, surely recognizing and welcoming this magnificent man automatically. The immediate interior was as dark as the exterior, and the three of us went inside as the doors closed silently behind us.
“Drink it now,” the 5 advised. I lifted the small vial, unscrewed the cap and lifted it to my lips. An astringent and pungent odor escaped the vial, strong even when compared to the heavy sexual musk that the two augmented men insisted on continually releasing, and I lifted the vial and poured its contents onto my tongue.
It had an odd minty coolness, but tasted of nothing at all. It coated my tongue like honey, thick and viscous, and swam about my mouth leaving a tingling sensation before I swallowed it all inside. I licked my lips and felt suddenly warm and cold, as if bathed in menthol, and experienced an odd weightless sensation.
Then, everything felt good. Extremely good. Drug-hazed good, but I was clear. There was no light-headedness or lethargy. “What is it?” I asked, looking at the empty vial.
“Preparation,” 5 said, “and conditioning. You’ll start to feel its full effects shortly. They’re only temporary, for you.”
“Don’t worry. I can never harm you.”
I knew that, but it was still a bit worrisome. The room remained dark and silent, though there was light coming from recessed apertures at the top and bottom of each wall, creating the illusion that they were unattached to the floor and ceiling. The Level 4 turned to me, smiling. “When we met, you asked me what we talk about when we are together. What we do when we’re alone.”
“I remember.” My heart was suddenly beating very fast. My skin felt tight, and my mouth was dry.
“You’re about to find out for yourself.”
My eyes felt dry, as well. My hands were clammy. My cock was throbbing and tingling quite agreeably inside its smooth, tight sheath. My balls felt heavy. My hair felt tight. “He’s starting to feel it, now,” my bonded companion announced.
I was, too. Quite strongly. What was it? What had I taken? What was inside me? I tried to speak, but words were too hard. My tongue felt soft and woolly. My teeth felt like rubber.
“Provisional augmentation,” he said. “You’re being given an insight into what it means to be like we are, though only a glimpse. You’ll be upgraded to Level 1 status, shortly. But it is only temporary. Level 1s receive the minimum augmentation necessary to act as companion, so the effects will be primarily mental and cognitive, though there will be some Level 2-type physical changes as well. Physical changes require Level 2 status,” 4 explained, “and then Level 3… well, you know what a Level 3 is like.”
He reached down and set his fingers to the thin material covering me. He sank to his knees and stripped it from me, looking up at 5 asking, “Why did you…?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He held his hand out and 4 handed him the garment. He lifted it to his face and inhaled my scent deeply. “Besides, I love the smell of a man, and this way I can add it to my collection.” 5 looked at me. “A keepsake, if you will. An imprint, so that when I am alone, I can think of you.” He rubbed his fingertips against the sleek, silken material and lifted them to his nostrils, smelling me on his touch. Then he looked at 4, as if sensing a question or complaint, and added, “We’ll share it.”
“I would like that.”
Was there some hierarchy at work here? Was a Level 4 somehow inferior to a Level 5? Did they serve each other in some capacity, and the 5 could do what he wanted without the 4’s consent—even though we were bonded?
But those thoughts did not occur to me, then. Only the sensation of change, of expansion, of my brain opening up and my body heating up. Things were altering, advancing, accelerating. I could feel it primarily in my cock and ass, but all the erogenous zones seemed suddenly to be buzzing or throbbing or tingling. He said it was primarily mental and cognitive, but if anything was happening upstairs, I only had the vaguest sense of it.
They were both looking at me with interest. Each of them, the dark-eyed and powerful Level 5 and the blue-eyed and sensuous Level 4 had smiles on their beautiful faces, and their cocks were now at full power, standing up straight and tall and throbbing out steady beats as their augmented hearts pumped hot blood into them.
I had to blink because the room seemed to be shifting. “Here it comes,” one of them said, though I heard the words as a sort of echo. I felt suddenly dizzy, and then suddenly hot, and then suddenly horny as hell. Fuck, I was horny! My cock weighed a ton! It had to be… miles long! Acres wide! Filled with so much cum that I was going to flood the whole room with my lake of hot, sticky cream.
And then it was gone, and I stood there and looked at them. “What did you do?”
“Do?” 5 asked, though his smile was knowing.
“You look different.”
“So do you.”
I looked down. I was glowing. Literally glowing. “The fuck? I’m glowing!”
“Augmented sight,” 4 said. “That is your life force. Your… soul, if you prefer. We can see that always. It helps us determine our effectiveness and your happiness. That glow changes with your state of being. Color, intensity, hue, and so on.”
“You’re excited,” 4 said. “You’re often excited, though sometimes you’re also caring. Which is…,” he paused and looked at 5. “Pink?”
“Lavender. In his case.” He was looking at me. “You have a very attractive aura.”
I looked at them. 4 was deeply red, with blue… sparks… along the edges. 5 was a sort of golden color, with rays of deep red and bright white. Incredibly, his massive cock had an almost pure white halo. The effect was soft, but I could perceive of the colors distinctly. “This is….” I was lost for words.
“Colors are good. Lack of color, or muted colors… means we aren’t performing to our companion’s satisfaction. Sometimes—quite often—words are not enough.”
“Well, judging by my—soul? I’m quite satisfied.”
4 was smiling, and his bliss was traveling through the bond intensely. “What else?” I looked around. “Sorry, let me be more precise. What do you smell?”
I inhaled. “Jesus!”
5 looked at 4 and said, “Which do you think smells like Jesus, you or me?”
“No, I… I mean….”
“Now you understand my desire for this,” 5 said, holding up the garment I had been wearing.
I suppose I did, at that! The scent of the two augmented men was potent and erotic. What my nose had sensed before had been amplified into a highly-charged aroma of arousing sexuality. How had I dismissed that? And now I could detect them individually, as well, maybe in the same fashion that a dog smells the members of its pack. There was no mistaking 4 from 5 in the room, though I could not sense anything of my own smell. “I can’t smell me,” I said.
4 explained, “Filtered out. Which is a shame, because you smell fucking sexy.”
“The feeling is highly mutual!” I knew that I would miss this when it was gone. Fuck, their scent seemed designed to drill directly into my libido. The smell of the two men alone was driving me wild.
5 turned to 4 and said, “He wouldn’t notice that, yet.” Then he turned to me and added, “Very soon, though.”
All I wanted to do at that moment was plunge my nose into their moist armpits, or nuzzle the cracks of their asses, and inhale all that gorgeous, dirty perfume inside me. “What’s next?” I asked, excited at these new prospects for pleasure. My eyes and nose had turned into radars seeking out beauty and sex. My body was saturated with some sort of erotic charge, and I wanted—no, I needed to start having sex immediately. “This is Level 1?” They nodded like twin gods. “Fuck.” What the hell must they be feeling, and seeing, and smelling? And what the fuck was a Level 6—or 7!? “What happens now?”
5 smiled. “Now, you’re prepared. Now, we go inside.”
I closed my eyes to inhale the strong perfume of them, wanted to somehow savor it and hold onto it. I understood 5’s desire for my undergarment now. Just the smell of each man was inviting a parade of images in my imagination, of their eyes, their faces, their skin, their asses, their cocks, their hands, feet, shoulders, bellies, nipples, calves…everything about them was transcribed in their scent. The memory was uncanny.
Then I opened my eyes to drink in the colorful beauty of their power. The sparks of bright blue dancing along the lines of 4’s muscles. That shade of crimson that signaled his enflamed sexual heat. Then the golden god that 5 had transformed into, literally glowing like some eternal flame, lit from within by his overwhelming strength and power.
They moved forward through the doors and into a sort of foyer, though quite large for an anteroom. The walls were a dark chocolate brown and the floor was covered in a deep crimson carpet. Sconces lit the room in a soft, earthly light and there were exits along the walls to our left, right and at the rear of the room.
4 and 5 turned towards me in unison. I nearly came. Their masculine beauty seemed magnified to me, now. Nearly overwhelming in its power.
Something new was happening to me. 4 smiled and nodded, and he said, “It is beginning.”
5 looked down my body, gazing pointedly at my cock. “Do you feel it?” he asked.
“I…feel…something.” It was hard to breathe. Everything felt suddenly hot. Their scent in my nostrils drilled a hole toward my libido and poured raw sex into it. My heart began to pound in my chest. And then I understood this final step, and what it meant.
I was super fucking horned up. I had never felt so horny. I wanted to fuck…anything. Anyone. I wanted someone fucking me. My skin was hot. My balls throbbed and tingled. My cock weighed a solid metric ton, and it could easily penetrate concrete or steel. I was filled up with cum. Gallons of it. Hundreds of gallons. My lips sizzled. My asshole was warm and wet and hungry.
“This is how we feel,” 4 said. “This is the beginning.” He kissed me. I had never felt anything like it. This was a kiss turned up in volume and passion. The feel of his lips against mine made me want to cum. Made me want to scream. Made me want to explode.
But I did none of those things. My engines were revving at a new, higher level. And everything felt amazing.
“Is this…is this Elysium?” If so, it was easily the most disappointing sex club I had ever attended. Where were all the other people? I could hear no sounds at all, other than the pump of blood in my ears. No moans of ecstasy, no cracking of leather or pleading voices, no growls of supplication or any other noise.
“It is part of Elysium. It is…the introduction.”
“What do I do?” I asked my companion. That is, besides enjoy the ride that 5’s tiny vial was providing. The sensation of sex and heat was still growing inside me.
4 looked at me meaningfully, his hands cupping my face, and asked, “Euphoria, splendor or dominion?” His voice now seemed tinged with something irresistible. Perhaps this was another reaction that my senses had to deal with. The sound of power, saturated in their speech.
My brow wrinkled as I heard the words. 5 then gestured to each doorway in turn, echoing the three words and indicating the related entryway. “Euphoria,” he said, lifting his muscular arm toward the door on my left, his voice seeming even more powerful than my bonded companion’s. “Splendor,” as he stepped aside, gesturing at the doorway at the rear of the room. “Or dominion?” He indicated the final door, on my right.
I was still unsure of my choices, though at least now I knew where they lay. 4’s hands fell away from my face. Instantly, I ached for his touch to return. “But…what do you mean?” I asked.
He smiled. Maybe I did come. It was getting hard to tell the difference. “Each passage grants you access to new capabilities for a short time. You may choose one, only.”
“A body that has not been initially augmented is unable to cope with more than one temporary amplification. Your body must be built to withstand and accept the offers, or it will fail.”
“Fail…as in die?”
“You won’t die,” 4 assured me. “But you may only choose one.”
“Born into it,” 5 explained. “More than that, I cannot explain.”
I looked at the three entryways, settling on the first. “Euphoria?”
“Pleasure,” 4 said. “Ultimate pleasure. Beyond your dreams or fantasies. Pleasure even more complete and stronger than you have already experienced. Unbounded, unrestrained, immeasurable.”
5 added, “You will be able to receive—and to provide—perfect, ultimate sexual bliss. You will have the power to bring your partners to orgasm over and over. You will be able to experience a level of pleasure beyond anything you have ever experienced, even this evening.”
4 nodded his agreement. “I must add that giving pleasure to another is as rewarding and ultimately satisfying as receiving it. The sharing of pleasure, the mutual experience of creating and gaining the level of gratification your body will be capable of will be… beyond imagining.”
Was it the bond, a sensation of joining so intense that it was like being that other person? Was it what 5 had accomplished at the lounge? Was it even stronger than that?
I observed their prodigious and talented equipment. “My cock…?”
5’s grin turned positively carnal. “The things you will be able to do with an augmented cock are quite…interesting.”
I swallowed hard. “Splendor?”
“Beauty,” 5 answered. “Unimaginable beauty. You may look on us and think we are the most beautiful men you can conceive. That these bodies, these muscles, these faces, these cocks are the embodiment of perfection. But beyond there lies ultimate beauty—yours for the taking. You will be nothing short of physical perfection.”
“You may think it impossible,” 4 said, looking into my eyes, “but you know it is true.” I did know, because I could feel it in our bonding. I would become a man so perfect in form and figure that I would stop traffic. I would cause men to spontaneously cream into their underpants, and women to experience orgasm with only a look in my direction. I would become the most beautiful man in the world. I knew it to be true.
I gulped again, and asked, “Dominion?”
“Power,” 4 explained. “Strength. Might. Brawn. Force. Supremacy and ascendancy of power beyond imagining. The surging paragon of ultimate and unlimited muscle. You will feel your body growing in strength more ardent and irresistible than you have ever dreamed.”
5 bent his arm into a bulging, mind-bending display of gorgeous muscular flawlessness. I watched the fibers press against his smooth, silken skin. I watched the ball of muscle split and swell. I could feel his power, simply observing this simple show of domination. He looked at me and said, “This is only a whisper of what awaits you. You will possess such volumes of strength, size and power as men have only dreamed of. No feat of strength will be beyond your desires. No amount of weight will cause you to strain your reserves of raw, overwhelming brawn.”
“But will I…?”
4 answered my unspoken question. “You will look like we do. Your muscle will be superior to that of others, harder and denser and far stronger. But you will not become bloated with it. Your body will grow, yes, perhaps as big as mine. Perhaps to Level 5 or even Level 6 dimensions. Perfect symmetry. Perfect development.”
I looked at 5’s incredible body and tried to imagine something beyond its size and beauty. Level 6? How fucking big was that?
My head was spinning. Was this a trick? How could they fulfill such promises? Although, considering what they had already done, and what I had witnessed and experienced, let alone what my body was going through after one small taste of some liquid in a vial, who was I to grow doubtful, now?
“Why?” is what I asked, though. Why me? Why were they offering this?
“A gift,” 5 said, “for what you have given us this evening.”
“You released us. You set us free. You helped us realize something which was previously unattainable.”
I heard 5 say, “We wish to return the favor, if only for a short interval of time.”
“It is an imprecise equation,” 5 said. “It varies depending on the body’s capability to receive and maintain the amplification. In some, only an evening. For others, days or even weeks.”
4 said, “This is a service usually offered to our most…affluent clientele.”
“But I….” 4 interrupted me, wrapping me within his warm, strong embrace again and kissing me quite passionately. The bond swelled with love, desire, the fire of lust and elation. The effects of the vial enhanced and magnified everything. I was overwhelmed.
“It is our gift,” 5 repeated. “A gift given freely.”
I was released from 4’s kiss, left breathless and weak. “Is it… is it truly possible?” I asked him. My cock was throbbing like a lead weight. My balls were bulging with cream. My body was hotter than the sun. I was made of sex. I looked at the doorways.
It was easy for me to discard Splendor. 5 had been correct, I was already accompanying the two most beautiful men on the planet. Why would I want to be more beautiful? What did I hope to gain?
I wanted only to drink them in, to gaze on their perfection, and to hold that inside my head. My own beauty was beside the point, as far as I was concerned. My ego did not need that type of feeding. Though the thought that there could be someone more surpassingly beautiful than either of these gods was certainly enticing.
Of the two remaining choices, Euphoria or Dominion, hadn’t that choice already been made as well? Had not I just experienced euphoria? Surely nothing could surpass the gift of sexual bliss that 5 had already delivered. And even if it did, I felt as if my brain would explode from so much sexual power.
Though perhaps what I had taken into my body would allow me, this time, to be aware of the experience. Perhaps that was worth it, in itself. And I was certainly curious about having an “interesting” augmented cock, because the one I already possessed, enhanced in some way by the tiny gulp of magic liquid, certainly hinted at much greater things. It tingled with sparks of sexual power with a constant need, and I was intently aware of every millimeter of its length and size. It throbbed and pulsed with innate power. What would an augmented cock do?
Then again, couldn’t I, if I wished to, hire 5 for another night like this one? And did I really want an experience that could never be surpassed, no matter how much I attempted to or spent to achieve it again?
It seemed obvious to me which of the doors I wanted. Maybe because it was the one I treasured least.
Dominion. Strength. Power. These were illusions. No matter how powerful one became, how much weight one might lift, what manner of iron one could bend in bare hands, true power was always inside. One could not command domination, it was granted by those around you.
The fantasy, however, was irresistible to me. Having watched 4 using my weights at home, watching his body swell with fresh, hard, lean, perfect muscle, seeing him grow larger and more powerful before my eyes as he promoted from a Level 3 to a Level 4—it was an undeniably arousing experience, and strongly so. My cock, just in the memory of the experience, seemed to swell hotly.
I had never imagined that such a thing were possible, to watch a man physically grow before one’s eyes, to see the muscles of his arms swell, and watch his chest expand, and his legs and ass bulge with power.
My cock throbbed even harder as I remembered it, now, increasing that sensation of weight and size and sexual prowess. I looked at 4’s amazing naked body, at its perfection and muscular beauty, the development of every single muscle head, the marriage of one to the other, the gorgeous perfection of masculine form made manifest.
Then at 5, whose body surpassed even 4’s overwhelming size and obvious physical prowess. The separate lobes of his wide shoulders. The two massive pecs mounted onto his incredibly powerful chest. The taper of his upper body down to his narrow waist, and then out again where the tree trunk thighs swelled with fat, bulging slabs of raw, beautiful brawn.
I did not answer them. Instead, I kissed 4 on the lips and marched toward the door to my right.
Have you ever smelled power? An odd question, to be sure, but as I passed the threshold of the doorway on my right, the entrance to the realm of Dominion, my nostrils suddenly stung with a pungent, almost aggressive and most definitely masculine aroma.
No, more than scent, it was the sensation of power, and of a distinctly male power. The sensation that might overcome one when encountering another man whose appearance, demeanor, stance—their very presence in the room with you assails your own sense of masculinity and somehow transmits to you that they are now the dominant force in the room, and that your eyes will forever be drawn to them, and your cock will rise and swell and throb when they are near, as if they can command that of you.
It coated my naked flesh. It swam into my eyes like sweat. It trickled down the gap between my ass cheeks. It reached out to me and shook me with a palpable, physical force.
It was as if the very room itself held the distillation of masculine strength in its air. I could physically feel the manifestation of power, of might, of domination and utter muscular perfection.
I nearly swooned. It was massive, and its effects were sudden and overwhelming.
“What is that?” I managed to ask.
“It is what you will become,” 5 said.
The room itself was simple in its decor and presentation. The same chocolate brown walls, the same dark crimson carpet, the same soft lighting. At the center of the room, three bright red circles were demarcated on the carpet, forming a triangle. The ceiling was 20 or 25 feet overhead, and gathered in shadows.
I paused to collect myself, or as much as I was able. The effects of the silver vial still played havoc with my libido and senses, as I continued to adjust to its demands. Colors were growing more distinct. When I was touched by either of my companions, my skin tingled with deep sensuality, as if coated in something that enhanced the sexual nature of skin on skin, no matter where that skin was located. My cock demanded attention, simply be existing between my legs like some thousand-ton weight filled with hundreds of gallons of cum that wanted to explode out in a thick, unending fountain.
Now, the sensations of the Dominion room were adding to the effects.
What I will become.
Becoming something else—something more. “How does it work?”
“It is a three-stage process,” 5 explained, as he indicated the three circles on the floor of the room. “And then your body will need training to realize its new potential. There will be some lingering and unavoidable after-effects, but nothing….”
“What kind of after-effects?”
“You body will be forced to grow in order to support the mass and burden your augmented musculature will place on it.”
“Like when you changed?” I asked 4.
He nodded. “This body increased in size to accommodate Level 4 status.” It remained odd to me whenever he fell back on speech that seemed more computer than man. “Your body must endure the same.” I didn’t like that word, ‘endure,’ but I supposed it was an honest assessment, based on what was supposed to happen.
5 continued, “Some, if not all, of that growth will be permanent. It cannot be undone, nor will its effects lessen with time.”
“So, I’m about to get bigger.” They both nodded. “How much bigger?”
“Difficult to assess. Each body is different, as I said,” 5 repeated. “If you’re worried about this, perhaps another of the choices would better suit….”
“I’m not worried, as such,” I lied. The prospect of being bigger wasn’t entirely unattractive, but I wasn’t planning on undergoing such a drastic change when this night began. “What else?”
“The effects of the chemical process may not entirely diminish.”
“What does each stage do?”
5 gestured at the first circle. As he did so, the circle rose up from the floor and revealed itself to be the top of a circular chamber of some sort, surrounded in glass or transparent plastic. The floor was shiny, silver metal with grates in it. The chamber was otherwise sealed. “Stage One will surround you in a femtobot cloud.” Femtobots! Jesus! “As you may be aware, these are molecular synthetics small enough to penetrate your skin’s cell structure.”
On top of that and what he didn’t say was that this was an hellaciously expensive little procedure he was so cavalierly proposing! Femtobots were cutting-edge—no, bleeding-edge—no, whatever is beyond bleeding, this is what they were. Nanobots were in common usage everywhere, and picobots could be found in medical facilities and military labs performing some crazy shit. Femtobots were even smaller than that, and nearly impossible to manufacture in numbers that made them practical for use.
Yet, 5 was saying that that was exactly what would happen to me inside that chamber.
“Stage Two?” I asked, looking at the second circle.
He continued, “Once inside your body, the bots will be programmed to infiltrate, correct and augment the processes necessary to attain your chosen amplification. They will only perform the duties assigned to them by our proprietary software, and your system will flush them out in the usual manner.”
So I’d piss or shit or sweat them out. After all these billions of teeny tiny synthetics had access to everything inside me.
“They will then break down and begin to rebuild your entire structure from the inside out. You will retain all that is essential about your appearance, but your skeletal structure will be expanded, your internal organs will be enhanced to support the additional blood flow and pressure, and your skin will be increased to cover the new growth of muscle. I’m afraid this process is likely to be somewhat…painful.”
“The bots will attempt to mitigate some of that pain by pumping up delivery of dopamine and other receptors, but they cannot at this time fully compensate.”
“And this is the part that stays with me?”
“Yes. Your new size will be permanent, and I’m afraid we will not know what that size is until the process completes.”
“I see. And the last stage?”
“You will emerge from the second chamber in your amplified state, but you will not be fully developed. In the third chamber, chemical composites will be introduced. You probably sensed some of their lingering effects when you entered. The chems will also penetrate your body and enhance certain biological processes, artificially heightening your Alpha Male status and allowing your muscles to develop following stimulation at a greatly accelerated rate.”
4 said, “Like when you allowed me to use your weights.”
“Ah,” I said, understanding. The bots could only do so much. It was up to me to push my new muscles to their ultimate potential with good old-fashioned weight lifting. “And I assume the chems are similarly flushed from my system over time.”
5 nodded again. “Along with their enhancements. While you’re enjoying your amplified body, your muscles will be approximately ten-times stronger than they would appear.”
He smiled. “I hope that is adequate. After your system has eliminated the femtobot and chemical treatments, your muscles will function at a normal human magnitude for their size.”
“And their size…?”
“Again, that is up to your body and to you. Once you begin to stimulate growth and strength, your muscles will increase to accommodate your desires—but only to a certain point. We endeavor always to maintain our guests’ original physical aspect and avoid an unnatural appearance. Your muscles will only grow as large as your newly expanded body will consummately accommodate. Once the muscle tissue is developed, you will not lose it. It is part of you.”
I took a deep breath, only now realizing the full extent of what my companions were proposing.
I looked at the first chamber. That sensation of ultimate male dominance in the room was filling my head with the desire to hold it within me, to feel what that power was like coursing through me, and to realize a dream or a fantasy of becoming a man more powerful and stronger than anyone else alive.
How large would I become? I stood a hair over six-feet tall in my stocking feet. The Level 4 was about a half-foot taller than I was, and outweighed me by several dozen pounds. The Level 5 was taller even than 4, and outweighed him by a fairly substantial amount, just based on looking at them. Would I get that big? What would it be like walking around in a nearly seven-foot frame? What would having muscles like that feel like?
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
“If you would care to step into the first chamber?” Half of the chamber’s cylindrical walls swung open and I stepped inside, naked and a bit afraid of what I had agreed to.
The door closed and I thought, weirdly, about Captain America, standing inside his own little metal chamber and being changed into some superhero. No such comic book adventures were likely to await me—unless they involved tons of sex with men like the two standing outside this chamber looking at me.
My ears popped as the chamber was sealed. I supposed it wouldn’t make very good economic sense to allow femtobots to start swimming around outside. Those little suckers were expensive!
I felt a warmth on the soles of my feet and realized that the cloud was already entering the chamber with me. They were so small that there was nothing to see. The cloud, as they called it, was more like warm air that was being pumped inside. I looked at the palms of my hands to see if I could discern any difference, or see the little scamps penetrating my flesh. But I could see nothing at all, and all I felt were the lingering effects of the silver vial still playing on my senses and libido.
After a few moments, the chamber was filled with a kind of vacuum also emanating from beneath my feet as the air was sucked out and circulated with fresh—or so I imagined. It all happened with speedy efficiency, and I though that if I had been paying for this, I’d be quite satisfied so far.
Assuming, of course, that anything had actually happened.
The door opened and I stepped out. “That’s it?”
“Stage One is complete.”
The first chamber sunk back into the floor as the second one rose out of it, like pistons. It was a mirror image of the first, without the grated floor. This time, the floor was matte black, like a cooking surface, but otherwise the chamber appeared to mirror the first one. A door opened in the same manner and I stepped inside.
I looked around wondering how much of this space my body was going to occupy when this stage was completed. My heart was beating quite quickly in anticipation of the level of pain that 5 had mentioned, and I started having second thoughts when the floor became quite warm against my feet and I felt a kind of current start to pass through me, as if I were being subtly electrocuted. I tensed involuntarily in preparation for my growth.
The first thing that happened was that I began to feel sleepy, or high, or a little of both. Vaguely, I thought, ‘this must be what dopamine does.’ Not that I had a clue about that, since I wasn’t a chemistry major and couldn’t have cared less about how my brain worked.
My breathing became a bit labored, though I couldn’t say why. And then a tremendous heat, as if I had been shoved into a sauna turned up past boiling, erupted everywhere, both inside my body and all across my skin. I grimaced and pinched my eyes and balled my hands into fists.
The heat did not abate. In fact, if anything, it grew stronger. Hotter and hotter, everywhere, until I thought I might melt, and then a sensation of pain unlike anything I have ever felt started in my joints.
My wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, ankles, anywhere one bone joined the other in a socket of cartilage erupted in sharp pangs of intense pain. Each knuckle on my hand. The bones in my spine. My littlest toes. Everywhere along the joints it felt as if they were all being broken simultaneously.
My blood was boiling. I could not open my eyes. The pain was excruciating.
Then it began to spread, to crawl up and down my arms and legs, to surround my ribcage, my very skull became to throb, feeling as if every bone were being crushed or inflated, and possibly both at the same time.
Pain. Nothing but pain. My body was being broken. Inch by inch. Cell by cell. Fractured, shattered, and reassembled.
The pain was a sweet agony, almost too much to bear. And then it began to abate and the heat returned. So much heat.
I opened my eyes. The two men were outside the chamber, watching me. I could not tell from their expressions what they were thinking. Maybe this was commonplace for them. Maybe they had gone through it themselves. Maybe they were simply dumbfounded to watch a man go through this.
I looked down at my naked body. It look emaciated. Bone-thin, literally. Stretched and misshapen. And heat. Molten, fiery heat everywhere.
As I watched. my chest began to swell outward. It was almost like watching bread rising, or the swelling of a balloon made of muscle and skin. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see my shoulders suddenly displaying their development. I could see them rising upwards, and I turned my face to watch the skin swell and the muscle grow.
I was growing. It was quite clear, now, and starting to happen everywhere and with increasing speed.
The pain lingered. The heat was intense, I lifted my right arm and watched muscle growing under the skin. It reached along the limb from elbow to wrist, and I could see the fibers growing into cables. Veins popped all along the sinew, pumping blood into the growing tissue.
Now I could start to feel the weight of my pectoral shelf. I looked down again and watched the two swelling globes of brawn distend outward from my body. I felt a thrill of sexual bliss watching my body growing. I wondered if my cock would also get bigger, even though it contained neither bone nor muscle. Would it be out of proportion to the rest of my mighty new form? I hoped sincerely not.
But I could’t even see it. My chest was enormous, now. Huge with thick meat that continued to multiply and swell as I watched it.
Everything began to feel heavy, to take on an unfamiliar sensation of intense size and heft and thickness. My chest was a cumbersome shelf of glorious power. I lifted my hand and cupped the muscle, smiling as I could feel myself growing into my larger grip.
I wanted a mirror so I could watch myself grow. I could feel it, certainly, and could see it when I looked at myself, but I wondered what I looked like to the two men standing outside, who could watch my whole body growing bigger and stronger and mightier by the second as kilo after kilo of fresh muscle grew on my extended frame.
The heat began to diminish. I sensed that Stage Two was slowing. I had no idea how long I had spent in the capsule, the intense pain and heat obliterated my sense of time. Had it been minutes or hours? And how large was I now? How much more did I weigh?
The heat grew dimmer and the floor beneath my feet cooled. The chamber door opened and I could feel the cool air from the room coat my new, naked body.
I stepped forward.
“Well,” 5 said, “we know one thing for certain.”
“What?” I said. My voice was now lower, my vocal chords stretched and rebuilt with the rest of my new, larger form. Would my home and car still recognize me now?
“Your body is quite welcoming of amplification.”
I realized that I was looking at 5 eye-to-eye. I was easily his equal in height, if not a bit taller that that. 4 was now shorter than I, but all I felt in the bond—at least, that had not been erased during my upgrade—was the familiar emotions of love and desire. If anything, 4 wanted me even more now.
I almost felt that I could stop where I was. I was huge. A feeling of dominance came with that realization. Size mattered after all. But even as I felt that initial sensation, 5 said, “Turn around,” and I did so quite eagerly, realizing that I was no more in charge of him now than before I stepped into the capsule. Perhaps he was used to men like me. Or maybe he intended to prove the very point that he was making—that I wasn’t yet finished, and that there was more to come.
He gazed on my new naked majesty with a discerning eye, examining me like a doctor might, checking that all was in place and everything was operating properly. But when he grunted a startlingly satisfying endorsement of my body, providing an undeniable sense of lust for what he saw before him, I could feel my cock start to throb.
My cock! How big was…?
I looked down and smiled. They really had thought of everything. Even my cock was larger, and was no doubt in perfect proportion—according to whomever kept track of such things—to the rest of my growth. It was a thick, meaty pole, and the effects of the silver vial were still playing with it.
But everything felt good, now. Everything throbbed with sex. I felt heavy, and a bit ponderous. It was going to take some getting used to, being this large.
And still no mirror! I ached to see myself as these men did. I wanted to gaze upon my new size and strength, but there was still a third act to perform.
The second chamber sank as the third rose, again. As expected, it looked just like the first two, with the same slotted metal floor as capsule one possessed, no doubt to flush away the excess chemicals once my ultimate metamorphosis was complete.
The door opened, and I was overcome with the same sensation that had permeated the room, now much stronger from inside the third capsule. Whatever the chemical process was, I had no doubts of its success. Frankly, if the thing were a man I would have bowed down before it in supplication and begged to suck its cock. I would have craved its notice, or a single word of praise from its beautiful mouth, or its deign to touch a small portion of its flesh and experience orgasmic bliss.
My cock rose up like some begging dog. It throbbed heavily, and swelled to hardness in record time.
I stepped inside. The door closed behind me.
This time, there was a cloud inside with me. It smelled of raw sex. It reeked with the power of men. Beyond its incredibly masculine redolence, as if someone had managed to extract, distill and purify the essence of male supremacy, it was suffused with power.
Beyond mere muscular power. Beyond the sensation and excitement of sexual power. This was what it must be like to be god. To know that others want to be with you, and will do whatever you ask of them, purely because of who you are.
Power. Might. Strength. Force. The purest form of masculine dominion entered me, and became me.
The capsule drained.
The door opened.
4 and 5 dropped to one knee before me, bowing their heads awaiting my command. I watched their muscles swell beneath their flawless skin, as they attempted to overcome my dominance with a show of force and size, but they could not win. This was no contest.
“Uh,” I said, “you can get up.”
They rose as one, keeping heads bowed. The feeling of pure power was overwhelming.
But was this an act? Could I truly be dominating them so easily and completely? “What’s next?” I asked.
“Sir,” 5 said, “If I may suggest, you might wish to enter the stimulation room, so that you may attain the full and glorious pinnacle of your godhood.”
Wow. That was laying it on a bit thick. “Okay,” I said, “lead on.”
“Yes, sir,” 5 replied. Both men turned and we walked to the opposite end of the room where another door opened and the awaited on either side of that door for me to pass through.
The room beyond at last fulfilled my wish for a mirror, because it was nothing but mirrors. A circular room lined with my reflection, and everywhere I looked I was gazing on my newly grown form.
My god. Oh, my god.
I was…I was….
“He is overcome,” I heard 4 say behind me.
“As he should be,” 5 agreed.
I was. I was overcome. I was overcome by my own reflection. I had not anticipated—had not imagined that I could look like that. Like this. Like I look, now.
Muscle. More than anything. I see muscle. It presses thickly outward in beautiful and perfectly developed lobes and globes and wedges and cables. It is everywhere on my naked body. It flares in broad wings along my thighs. It bulges in fat loaves on my upper arms. My chest is a collection of squared, broad plates of raw, thick, magnificent brawn. My belly is lined in perfect rows of bulging abs, like a cobblestone street or a carton of eggs.
I have muscle now that I never knew possible. Muscle bulging in its ultimate glorious perfection. Arching across my shoulders, Flaring wide from my neck. When I lift my arms to push the biceps into hard glory, fat wings of power unfold beneath my arms and widen my upper body to mind-blowing proportions.
Muscle. Muscle and muscle and muscle. I move my hands across the bulging planes of this new body and realize that I am feeling myself, that all that muscle I see in the mirrors belongs to me, I am wearing it like armor, and it is beautiful and awesome and powerful.
I am beautiful and awesome and powerful.
In the center of the room is a large machine, or contraption. There is a kind of seat within its many armatures and cables and hydraulics. It is large, larger even than I am—which I find hard to believe now that I see myself—and made of shining silver and dark black plastic and rubber. It looks like a cross between a torture device and some kind of engine. Cables run from its core towards floor where they are plugged into outlets and computer terminals. It sits quietly and unmoving, awaiting its next victim.
As I approach it, a fan of laser light reaches towards me, bathing my huge frame in sharp blue light. “What’s that?” I ask.
“Calibrations, sir. In order to optimize performance and help you to create your perfect form, the machine is taking intricate measurements of your present dimensions. As you progress toward total dominance, the machine will ensure that no muscle outsizes its brother—each biceps will be exactly as large as its opposite—and that your total mass of muscle is balanced to an aesthetic perfection according to your own physique.”
“It will hinder my growth?”
“It will…refine it, sir. As a master sculptor refines the depiction of perfect beauty from a mass of marble.”
“An artist, then?”
“As you say, sir. The machine will help you achieve dominion, but not at the price of perfection.” 5 asked, “If sir would deign to turn around, so that the machine can get the most accurate measurements of your entire body, I’m sure sir will be better pleased with his results.”
Perfection. Perfect muscle. Perfect power. That sounded good. I pivoted in place, gracing the laser eyes with the view of my other side, and the roadmap of bulging muscle spread across my back, and the two mounds of hard meat jutting from my new, muscular ass.
The light died as suddenly as it had appeared, and I moved within the machine, poised on the odd bicycle seat within it. My new, larger cock beats a drumbeat against my bulging abs. My two companions approach me and begin strapping me in, applying probes and monitors, and setting my hands on a set of handles and my feet into stirrups. I am more or less suspended within the machine, now, and understand its purpose innately.
This is what I will use to build up my power. These pulleys and harnesses and restraints will train my muscles. I will flex and press and push to make my power increase. The machine will monitor my progress, adjusting its myriad muscle-building mechanisms to optimize my ever-increasing strength and size, increasing pressure here, decreasing it there, until I am satisfied and my new, powerful, incredible body has reached its ultimate potential—whatever that may be.
Ten times the strength? I already look like I could bench press Cleveland. How much stronger am I liable to become? How much power will be coursing through these larger muscles? And how much larger can I get?
I begin to exercise, if that is the right word. Every muscle is in use simultaneously. The machine is optimized for this purpose—to create the ultimate man in the shortest time possible. My improved body has also been optimized for this purpose, to push itself beyond normal boundaries for stress and muscle exhaustion, so that my power will grow at a mind-bending pace.
It feels good. I can feel my strength growing, even in the first minutes.
I flex my arms and the biceps sing with beautiful pain, swelling into mighty rounded balls of hard brawn.
I bend my knees and push my legs, and the muscles of my ass and thighs burn and bulge.
I move the handles over my shoulders and push upwards, and am rewarded with a surging sense of growth and power across my shoulders.
I push forwards and the two massive globes of my chest burn and swell and reveal the bands of power beneath my flesh.
What the tiny ‘bots are doing inside me, I don’t know or care, only that it is making me stronger with every passing moment. I can see it happening. I can feel it.
Bigger. Stronger. More powerful than anyone.
I watch the size of my body start to increase, again. I watch veins pop under the smooth, perfect flesh. I watch muscle fibers growing and multiplying. I watch my skin stretch to accommodate the renewed development.
There are no measurements I can see. I have no idea how much weight I am managing. Hundreds of kilos? Thousand? The machine knows, and it increases it in increments to keep up with my growth in strength and size, monitoring everything about my body as I develop myself.
It is intoxicating. The stronger I become, the stronger I wish to grow. I watch the muscles on my arm bulge larger, still, and can see new fibers and cables of brawn stretching along the existing muscle. I am growing. My muscle is expanding. I can see it physically swelling beneath my glistening, sweat-coated skin.
Minutes pass. I work at it constantly. The sensation of power suffuses every fiber of this body. I can feel myself growing stronger with every thrust, every pull, every flex. Bigger and bigger.
“You are approaching optimal development, sir,” 5 tells me. “Your body’s peak performance and ultimate power is moments away.”
I am straining, now, to push the machine. It is fighting back with increasing power. Sweat coats every inch of my naked flesh. My heart beats in my mighty chest. I grit my teeth and clench my ass and push…push…push one last time.
There is a great huffing of air as the hydraulics release and the clang of metal on metal as I relax at last. My body is pulsing with power, like a sun. I feel every muscle keenly. My skin is ruddy and slick.
I stand and withdraw from the machine that has transformed me utterly into something beyond man. I look at my reflection in the wall of mirrors.
Utter muscular perfection. Muscle beyond muscle.
I flex my arm, watching the cables swell and form new valleys. I raise both arms to perform a double-bi and watch the swollen majesty of my muscles increase until the behemoths are trembling to hold in all the power they contain.
I don’t know how to pose this collection of brawn. I try a few positions, mimicking the old time bodybuilders and watch in awe of myself as the brawn bulges and builds and pushes against my skin.
Muscle beyond muscle.
My companions are on one knee again. Worshiping me. The unstoppable, ultimate paragon of masculine muscular perfection.
I realize that my domination is not merely physical. I have a soaring sense of self-confidence and, yes, perhaps arrogance about myself. I expect these men, now, to drop to one knee. I expect all men to do the same.
And I know that they will.
“Take me to them.” I announce my command in my new, powerful voice. It is deep and clear and supreme in tone, a voice of a god.
“Sir,” the companions answer, rising to their full heights before me.
I am swollen with power. It radiates outward from me. I can feel my muscle like a glorious burden. It feels as if hundreds of kilos of raw, hard, perfectly trained and developed brawn are bulging from every millimeter of my body. Is this arm 50 centimeters? 55? 60? I look down at my leg and tense its power and watch the muscle blooming outward, separating into massive loaves and wedges. My belly is a cobblestone street, and just as hard. I tighten my hand into a fist and know that I could push these fingers into a concrete wall and pulverize it to dust.
Power. Untamed, unlimited, absolute.
My cock is red hot, practically steaming, inflated to masterful glory with its insatiable need and overwhelming capability and unquenchable lust. It is as strong as the rest of me. Made not of flesh but of steel. Filled with the essence of my immeasurable masculine strength, ready to fountain copious blasts of hot, sticky cream in limitless jets of thick fulfillment.
I am no longer suffused in the red of passion. I am not even of the same golden hues as my companion. I glow white now. Pure, perfect, godlike.
I know what comes next. I can feel them, I can smell them, each inside my head—the brethren—in Elysium. I can sense the men I will dominate with my power and perfection. Perfect men, augmented in every way possible, Level 4s and 5s and 6s. Even a Level 7. They await my arrival.
They await my glory.
I felt…ungainly. Which was unfortunate. One does not become the most powerful, the strongest, the motherfucking epitome of masculine expression and then start stumbling about simply because one is a few centimeters taller than a few minutes ago.
I knew that I also weighed quite a bit more, based solely on the new masses of brawn bulging from every inch of my larger frame. But it didn’t feel like it to me, probably because my enhanced strength was making that aspect a bit effortless.
But the size was…problematic. At least at first.
The ground looked further away, but only because it was. The room didn’t look any smaller, I wasn’t some odd gigantic being swollen to impossible dimensions. Yes, I was most certainly unusually large, based on normal human growth patterns. I estimated that I had gained at least 20 centimeters in height, and perhaps 30. That was…a lot.
But my body was also quite a bit wider and bulkier, now. Substantially so. I think it was like driving a new car, if memory served. Before the vehicles drove themselves, one had to park them, maneuvering their dimensions around the fenders of other vehicles. And you got to understand where your car began and ended, almost as if it were an extension of you.
Now, I was in a limo. I had shoulders that were far wider than they had been. My chest and ass stuck out several centimeters farther. Everything did. Hell, my cock was going to start arcing around like a third arm and knocking chunks out of the walls if I turned too quickly!
So, yes, I stumbled. And, yes, I think my companions saw me. Or perhaps, they only felt the floor shake beneath my tread, for I had to weigh nearly 150 kilos, and possibly even more. I wasn’t sure how this all worked. Was my amplified strength a result of actually possessing more muscle? Was the muscle being helped along by the chemicals and femtobots still residing inside me? Did I physically weigh more because my muscle was more dense, or would these artificial augmentations just help my muscles along when necessary, and my body was only as strong as it should be?
Whatever that measurement was.
How strong was I? What miracles could I physically perform? I understood from my entrance in the room that much of the reaction to my superior charisma and sense of masculine fervor was in the chemicals that had suffused me—and to which I appeared now immune.
And, more interestingly for me, how much of my new male power would manifest in physical sexuality? What other amplifications were included in the package, so to speak?
Literally, I felt as if I could cum buckets of cream. I felt as if I could start cumming right now, if I wanted to. My cock was hard as steel.
These were fleeting thoughts that came and went in an instant. None of that really mattered to me. I was a god, now. Truly, a god. Men would bow down before me, beg to worship me, know when I entered the room that none could challenge me.
The two men rose from their knees and, bowing, gestured back towards the door we had entered through, eyes averted from my magnificence. I realized an unintended consequence of my recent amplifification.
“You both realize that my previous instructions to you remain in effect?” They nodded understanding. “But…?”
5 did not raise his eyes when he answered. “It is…difficult, sir.” When he referred to me as ‘Sir’ in the lounge, it was part of an act. Now, I sensed that it was more than that.
“Because I’m changed?”
I looked at 4, my constant companion and bonded partner. “What about you?”
“I am…it is difficult,” he answered. And I realized that there was something about the bond that was different as well. We were still joined, certainly. I could feel and sense the man’s emotions and desires, but now it was as if the bond had…reversed polarity. Or something. We were not sharing, so much as I was aware of his emotions but they had no influence over my own.
“I understand,” I said, “but you have to try. If your only desire is to please me, what would please me most is that you act according to the rules I set down. Do as you desire. Act on your own impulses.”
They both said, “Yes, sir,” but in a manner which implied that doing exactly as they were doing now—more or less worshiping the ground I walked on—was exactly what they wished. They could not, or were not able, to be dissuaded from that opinion. I was simply imperative to their idea of perfect happiness. I was the Alpha Dog, and my pleasure was paramount to their own.
I sighed, nodded, said, “Lead the way,” and watched these examples of perfect male beauty shudder with delight that I had spoken to them.
We exited the mirrored room—leaving behind the vision of myself reflected in perfect, unattainable perfection from every surface—passed through the conversion room and returned to the anteroom which lead to my initial three choices. They did not pause, and continued back to the foyer, and after all three of us had entered, the doors silently closed behind us.
5 said, “Residence.” Both of my companions kept their heads bowed and their eyes averted from my majesty. I suspected they were staring at my cock. I knew that I would have been. It was glorious.
I sensed that the room was moving, though I heard no sound. An elevator, then, as well as an entryway. That made sense. So I was in the place where these augmented companions spent their time together. Elysium was their home, or at least some part of it was. Was I going up, or down? Perhaps I was going sideways, like some magic Wonkavator. It made me smile, to think that I was in the magical land of chocolate, except in this book every room was filled with perfect masculine beauty.
The elevator’s subtle rumble of movement slowed and then stopped. The doors opened and we walked forward into a darkened area, smaller that the other foyer, and this time with only a single set of doors.
“Welcome, sir,” 5 said, “to the Residence.”
The doors swung silently open.
The sound was the unmistakable expression of men having sex, in all its stimulating, erotic, raw and carnal grandeur.
If I had not already been as hard as a rock, no doubt my cock would’ve risen to its ultimate glory in the space between heartbeats. I was walking into sex. I could feel it, smell it, hear it. Perhaps the Residence had been designed this way, to intensify and exalt the sensations of sex in the very air I was breathing, or perhaps it was a happy accident that all this delicious erotic power was trapped within these walls, unable to get out and had been building on itself for years.
The air itself was saturated with the sensation of orgasmic bliss. I was slipping between the meaty ass cheeks of a hairy muscle stud. My cock was sliding into the warm, wet, slurping orifice of the most talented cocksucker on the planet. The hottest, wettest, longest tongue in the world was lapping at my asshole. Fingers pinched and twisted my nipples. My heavy ball sack was being tugged and tortured.
We stepped down a short flight of stairs and spread before me was nothing short of some Italian master’s vision of the ultimate male orgy. Men were not all supposed to look that perfect. But everywhere I looked, I only saw perfection.
As the Level 2 had illustrated—and 5 had explained—Augments come in all archetypes. And here they all were, gathered together in some unending debauchery of bodily revels. A celebration of man, if you will, where each participant was beautiful and naked and hard as fucking steel.
How many men? Difficult to say. At a guess, I’d put it between 50 and 100. I lived in a large city, so I suppose that made sense, but it seemed ludicrous that so many of these beings weren’t occupied with clients this evening. Not that I cared in the least, of course, because they were only there for me.
The god of absolute male power.
I looked down upon them, now. Faces of youth and age. Some faces clear of whiskers and others covered in full, heavy beards. Smooth-skinned youths and hairy, muscular bears. Level 3s and 4s and 5s. Probably 6s as well. Bulging with raw muscle, or sleek and athletic like Olympian champions.
And everywhere, consummate male beauty. Overwhelming and superhuman. Perfect and divine. Outfitted with the biggest augmented cocks and the supplest augmented skin and the tightest augmented asses.
With my supplemented eyesight, I could identify the soulcolors of the myriad beautiful men before me. The palette was tinged strongly with the red of passion, and there were waves and sparks of blue and lavender and orange and gold that cascaded through the crimson sea. Sudden swelling or brightness within the cascade signaled a single man’s intent passion, and likely orgasmic release.
It did not appear as if the orgiastic group were bathing in that passionate light. I could see the individual auras clinging to them like gossamer veils or shadows made of radiance. Each man’s light was his own, as individual in its particular arrangement of hues and tones as their physical appearance. But it made it very easy to see where the passion in the room was at its hottest, and where the men were engaged in less strenuous sexual partnerships and were, perhaps, kissing and caressing. The passionate colors cooled, but were no less luminous, in those areas.
I was beginning to doubt that my own amplified masculine power would be able to compete with what the Residence was doused in everywhere—the sensate fog of absolute sex. But almost as if in answer to that thought, all activity came to a slow, but complete, halt, and every handsome face in the room turned towards us.
Then, among the tangle of naked men, off to the far right corner of the room, there was movement as someone extracted himself from his brethren.
He stood up.
His aura was gleaming white, as mine was. He was massive, and packed with an abundance of muscular beauty, as I was. His face was an expression of absolute masculine magnificence, and I could feel, quite literally, a sense of power radiating from him even across the expanse of the room.
He just stood there, displaying himself to me, the evident and obvious king of the pride. Arms at his side, his inhumanly beautiful features held inconclusive and powerful. Looking at me almost—no, not almost, very definitely defiant of my own amplified glory.
Majestic. Magnificent. No man such as he has ever truly existed. Only in dreams, perhaps. Fantasies and comic novels and painted on the canvas of the Michelangelo of erotic artists.
I suspected at once that I looking at my first Level 7. This was not a temporarily amplified man like me. This was a man borne into his body, and his strength, and his power. This was a man destined—ordained, designed, assured—to be the master of all he surveyed.
Need I describe him to you? Can I even try? How does one do justice in words to a man who looked as he did? Perfection, but something even beyond that. Perhaps this was what my companions had described in the anteroom—what the room of Splendor could produce.
There was tension between us, even over the distance, for supremacy. It was an electric charge, and I could feel it building. It was an unbroken band, like a tug of war, linking his state of grace to mine. Was he doing something to fight against my strength? Could he withstand me? Was he, good god, was he more powerful than I?
“Come here,” I instructed.
He grinned, slightly, and dipped his head. “I am not your companion,” he answered.
His voice shook me like a passing train. The words were like blows. My god, this man. My god. “True,” I volunteered, my voice his equal in power and timbre, “and I am not yours.”
The faces were turning from him to me, like the audience at a tennis match. “Why should I obey?” he asked, and it sounded as if his question was tinged with humor.
It was my turn to grin. I had never felt like this before. I had never felt the contest so keenly, and I could feel myself swelling—or bulging—with increasing power, as if my body held reserves it had not tapped, because it had not needed to. “Because I asked nicely.”
His grin increased into a smile. He licked his lips, and I thought I saw the great and pendulous cock that hung so thick and full between his massive thighs visibly throb. “And what if I were to ask nicely?” he asked. “Would you obey?”
I sensed that he was applying more power as well. Pushing back against my own. All the other men in the room remained silent and motionless as the two magnificent gods in the room held their polite debate.
But we were affecting them, too. I could feel it. I could feel my power radiate and swell amongst their number. This was not just between the Level 7 and I. The winner would truly take it all.
The sexual temperature was rising. How was it possible? The place was a sauna of sex. It permeated the air we breathed. It coated the skin like sweat. But we—he and I—were driving the fires hotter.
“No,” I answered. I was thoroughly enjoying this. It was more subtle and more difficult than merely shoving the man around with physical strength. These were not bullying tactics or mere intimidation.
This was a test—a contest—of our strength in a manner I was entirely comfortable combatting.
He raised his chin slightly. His eyes sparked and flickered, as if they held thinly leashed lightning. “We understand each other.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “Though something tells me you’re at a disadvantage in this.”
He gazed down upon his own perfection. He held his arms out slightly from his magnificent body. He looked back toward me and said, “I see no disadvantages.”
“You have never been fully challenged before,” I said. “You may lack the tools to win.”
“Win?” he asked. I watched as his aura began to swell outwards, and I could literally feel his power manifest. “Are we battling, then?”
“More tournament than battle, I think. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
He gazed down upon my meat and said, “In that case, I think it is you that lacks the proper tools.”
A cheap shot, but it also showed that I had him pegged. Dick size? Was he really going there? I simply smiled, as a sense of overwhelming confidence came over me. “An artist never blames his tools for lack of talent,” I admonished. “Why are you relying so much on something as inconsequential as that?” I nodded toward his own magnificent cock, which was—let’s be honest—probably the most beautiful and largest specimen I had ever seen.
His smile faltered a bit. “It is easy to dismiss something one is lacking.”
“I suggest a change of tactic, my friend. If there is one thing about me that is not inadequate, it is the target of your jests. This is not some simple cock contest, unless that is the extent—the short extent—of your claim over me.”
His eyebrow rose and his smile was back. “Indeed not. But I thought I would start at the bottom of the list of tools at my disposal. I didn’t want to frighten you.”
“If there is one emotion I am not feeling, it is fear, my friend.” That much was true, and not a boast at all. I was excited, enflamed, and horny as fuck. I wanted that man. I would have him, too, no matter the cost.
“Friend, is it?” he asked. “What makes you think you could be friend to me?”
“As opposed your enemy?”
“As opposed to my servant.” He was manifesting his innate and overwhelming power again. His entire frame lit up with it. I could feel it reaching across the room.
I must admit, he was affecting me. How could he not? I was new in this body, still testing its limits and abilities, still unsure of its extents. How much power did I have? How did it manifest? How did it grow?
Perhaps he sensed my moment of doubt, and he did something that made the men in his immediate vicinity writhe in pleasure. Some even came. They approached him, crawling or writhing or clamoring to be near, ignoring me for the first time, and clung to his muscled legs, and touched his perfect prick in abject worship.
To my eyes, it looked as if his aura swelled to encompass theirs and amplify what they were already feeling. It was what 4 had done to me in my own bedroom, through the bond.
It was a show of superiority, a demonstration of his power over them, and his intentions to overwhelm me as well. He needed no bond. He needed nothing but his own overwhelming power.
It was impressive, to be sure, but to overwhelm these men? That was no challenge. They were never the target. They were unworthy.
I smiled, watching him, and realized that it was a desperate move. A display of something I didn’t need proved to me. Of course he could control them. They wanted to be controlled. That was no test at all.
“I am no one’s servant,” I said. I looked at those around me and bade them come to me.
It was as simple as that. A wish. A desire. I did not sense anything physical happening. I could not see my own aura increase in size or brightness. I merely knew—with supreme confidence—that the men around me were mine.
I was, perhaps, overzealous in my first try. Several of the men were left spent and panting. I had driven them to a sexual breaking point, and caused them to orgasm with such extreme pleasure that they could not withstand it. Maybe these were Level 1s or 2s. Unconditioned, still, and I was not fully in control of the amount of masculine power surging through me, awaiting these desires to display it.
I wondered what I looked like as this happened. It was both a conscious and subconscious desire. I wanted him to see my own surging strength, but I also wanted to become more.
How would normal men react to me, now? How would my friends react? How long would this last?
Those who survived the overwhelming power that was now so easy for me to manifest came towards me and worshiped me. My own companions joined them, unable to resist me. They kissed and stroked and touched me. Their desire to please me was clear, and just as clear was the fact of my superiority over all of them.
It only increased my sense of mastery and command of my new power. It was part of me, now. Part of who I am. Not merely a suit of armor I wore or a cloak I could pull around me.
I was power. I was perfect.
More men came towards me, pulled by my overwhelming masculine aura, worshiping my body, worshiping me.
“A child,” the other man said. “A child testing his strength.” His own aura swelled again, and the room was quickly dividing in its loyalties between he and I. More supplicants came to him, and the passion-red illumination about him grew in strength. His presence among them drove their need and desire, and it was becoming focused solely on him.
I smiled at his pitiful accusation. “A child’s excuse,” I retorted. It was a silly accusation. One look at me and it was perfectly clear I was no child. And there was no way that he could make me feel inferior with that poor attempt. If anything, it increased my confidence, and that manifested in a conspicuous and overt increase in my overall masculine power. Some of the men who had been drawn inexorably to his magnificence were now turning towards me.
I felt myself surge with strength. It made my cock throb and grown incandescent with power, like some god’s lightning rod filled with the purest essence of male dominance.
The men around me moaned in ecstasy. They came, pumping thick loads of hot cream from their swollen balls, splattering themselves and each other in the undeniable concentrate of refined masculine authority. Their cocks surged and pulsed in time to my own. Their beautiful and flawless bodies flexed and swelled, showing off their own muscular development as a reflection of my own. They drew strength from me, and fed me their own in return.
Did he waver? Did his perfect smile dim? “Come to me,” I commanded.
“I will not,” he responded. His body swelled with muscle. It expanded as if he were inflating with it. He flexed everything in a simultaneous display of his raw, physical power, attempting an intimidating tactic as animalistic as nature itself.
Male against male for the crown. Displaying our strength—our authority—to the pride.
My muscles swelled in response. I smiled as my body inflated to full glory—every resting muscle bloating with meat, pushing against my skin, swelling outward in a manifestation of my splendor, my glory, my perfect and overwhelming power.
I was still growing into my full potential, still recognizing the extents of what I had been given, and what this body could do, now.
My body responded immediately to my need. I had ten times the strength of an ordinary man of my size and development. I was bursting with might. I could raise my fist and beat it down and collapse the room beneath our feet. I could halt a freight train in its tracks. I could demolish this building with a series of blows.
There was nothing I could not do. And my muscles swelled with my strength.
My retinue exploded with cum. Like a detonation of male potency, my demonstration of pure power rippled outwards and encompassed the entire room. A hundred perfect men fell sway to my undeniable authority.
And then it struck him. I watched my power overwhelm and subsume his own. He gasped. He faltered. His majestic body and all that he was—all his power and perfection—was mine.
“Come to me,” I said softly.
The room shook with my power. Sexual, sensual, muscular, masculine, an overwhelming sensation of my capacity and dominion surrounded all and brought them at last under my control.
But I wanted only one.
He began to move towards me, through the glowing sea of sex and muscle. They parted for his passing, recognizing his own glorious male potency and bowing before its mastery. He was now the Beta Male, second only to my own unsurpassable power. He remained worthy of worship, and they allowed him to come to me because I wished it.
I watched his body’s movements with a rising arousal and sense of need. Never had I seen such a man as that. Never had such a man existed.
Beauty. Muscle. Sex. Every facility turned up to ten, and then amped beyond the normal levels for the male human being.
But I knew I was his master. Whatever had been done to me had allowed me unsurpassed masculine potency. He may have been more beautiful, and larger, and gifted with muscle and cock beyond anything that my simple human body could attain.
But in this moment, in this room, and because of what I had been given—he was mine.
The Level 7—the ultimate expression of what a man may become—stood at the foot of the small staircase where I was. His cock was magnificent, throbbing with hot need of me, wanting my touch, needing my attention, responding purely to my presence before him.
His body was the consummate and perfect display of male muscular development. As he breathed for me, I watched the muscles on his abdominal wall swell and recede. His skin was ruddy and slick with sex. His eyes gazed upon me with adoration and desire.
He said nothing as he gazed with adoration at my naked body. I was almost relieved that he did not speak. God, that voice. Could normal ears withstand its command? Could normal men gaze upon his perfection and not be blinded? What sensations would his hands on my body create? When his beautiful mouth was wrapped around my cock, how could I not succumb to him? I ached with a physical need to be with him, to feel his flesh, his muscles, his body and all its power surrounding my own.
Once joined, would we survive the explosion of masculine power?
There was only one way to find out.
The pair of us—the Level 7 and I—were causing a fair bit of havoc among the gathered men in the room. Testosterone overload, no doubt, or enough sex pheromones to make the entire collected armed forces of the world start banging each other with something other than guns, for a change. It became quickly apparent that we would need to absent ourselves from the space or the collective balls of all these gentlemen were going to explode from overuse.
I looked down at my companions and said, “You are still instructed to do as you wish. Perhaps my absence will help in that regard.”
“You wish to leave us?” 5 asked. There was a hint of pleading and despair in his tone.
I looked at the Level 7 standing at still attention, awaiting my command, and said, “I think it will be better if he and I had some quality time alone.” I looked at his amazing body again, and added, “A lot of quality time.”
At least, as much as I had left. The evening was quickly progressing, and my contract with 4 and 5 would be at an end. Did it extend also to this god that stood before me? And how much time before my own temporary amplifications wore off and he crushed me like any other bug before his magnificence?
“As you will, sir.”
Gazing at the writhing orgy before us, I didn’t think my companions would be lacking for friendship. I looked at them both, my companions, and sent a wash of love through the bond towards 4. “Share that with him,” I said, indicating 5. 4 nodded understanding and smiled his beatific smile at me. Then I looked at the sea of naked flesh gathered before me, awaiting my merest command. “Uh… carry on,” I said, waving my hand vaguely.
I remounted the short stairway and looked at the Level 7. It was still a bit hard to look directly at him. He stood at the foot of the steps, looking up at me expectantly. “Come here,” I asked.
He stepped forward, and I realized that he was much, much larger than I was. At least two-and-a-half meters in height, well over a meter wide, and possessed of, oh, hell, 225 kilograms of thick, hard, cock-throbbing muscular perfection? Literally, it was difficult for me to gauge the color of his eyes. Maybe it was newly enhanced sight, or maybe his eyes just worked that way. Were they gold? Green? Turquoise? All of the above? His face was a collection of sculpted angles absurdly masculine in countenance and preposterously handsome in appearance. His skin glowed, almost literally, and it coated a collection of muscles so perfectly developed and insanely beautiful that I hoped the man never wore clothing in his life.
I’d mention his cock, but no one would believe me if I even attempted to describe its…its…well, everything. Sometimes you look at a man’s cock and you think, that looks nice, except for one little thing. Or you think, wow, that’s huge, but what’s with the shape. Or something. Then again, maybe that’s just me. Quite the aficionado of cock, I must confess.
But his was…well it was…really, I can’t think of anything to say other than the man owned the perfect cock. The most perfect cock. Even if you don’t like cock, you’d adore this one.
I tried not to stare at it, but that was hard—and I don’t mean that as a pun. It was hard not to stare, even given the ample amount of other amazing physical attributes to stare at about him. He was still erect, and I thought—I knew—it was because of me. I was causing that. My presence here with him, with this man, this perfect, awesome, incredible specimen of man. He was powerfully aroused by me.
I was pretty sure I’d be able to do something with that.
Everyone else was writhing in perfect sexual bliss. I think I was leaking, or my libido was so pumped into overdrive as I studied the Level 7 that they were all realizing the benefits of my amplified male power. So I looked into those ever-changing eyes and said, “I want to be alone with you.” He continued to look at me with adoration. “Hello?” He blinked, and I had a realization that my control over this man was total. “You may speak,” I said.
“Where do you wish to go, sir?” As I feared, the sound of his voice grabbed onto my prick and stroked it good and hard.
I recovered as quickly as I could and said, “This is your home, not mine. I expect there is someplace nearby?”
“Yes, sir. If you would accompany me, please?”
I nodded and he moved past me, back towards the elevator. The sounds and smells of sex faded behind us as the doors closed and we stood alone in the small room.
His head nearly brushed the ceiling of the enclosed space. He said, “Hearth,” and the same quiet rumble and sensation of movement began.
I tried not to look at him, but it was difficult not to. I wondered if the others felt the way about me that I felt about him. Was I also inspiring this level of devotion, of worshipful reverence. It was clear that they were drawn to me and that my effect on them was physical, but did they ache in my absence, and feel such a powerful draw to me as I did to him?
He stood behind me—towered over me, really—and I could feel the heat of his body radiating in the small space. I could smell him, too, and describing the scent would be hard without actually experiencing it. Spicy, definitely sexy, and almost…metallic. Like copper in my mouth, but of a type that was designed to be there, because the effect of it was driving shocks of sex directly down to my 3-ton cock.
The heat was palpable and powerful, and probably not surprising given his size and monstrous collection of brawn. The man was gargantuan, and so large that the two of us were all that the elevator could fit, with my own recent improvements.
He…rubbed…against me, but only for a moment. His front to my back. I could have rested my head into the crevasse between the meaty plates of his chest, but what I think I felt was his hard-on. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Pardon me,” he said. His voice, in that confined space, was almost too powerful. A deep rumble passing through me that rattled my bones and shook my cock.
“I asked what you’re doing,” I repeated, feeling a surge of my Alpha status.
“I want…need to touch you,” he reported.
“You may,” I allowed.
At once, his hands were on my shoulders, gripping the wide bands of power stretching along the mountain range of muscle I owned. His touch was warm, and a bit gentle at first. Perhaps he was still tentative about how far I would allow him to touch me, so I gave him a bit of incentive. “That feels good,” I reported.
His hands moved forward, and I could feel his body pressing against mine fully, now.
I had to close my eyes and bite my lip to keep from screaming in ecstasy. I had never felt anything as sensual as this man’s skin against mine. A current of something palpable, like sex turned into liquid, was flowing across my skin wherever his body came into contact with mine.
His palms moved over the massive muscle that bulged from my two pectoral globes. He grasped the meat and kneaded it, then moved his touch lower and the pads of his middle fingers came to rest on the tips of my nipples.
It was just a touch, but a sudden electric jolt of sex erupted there and traveled instantly towards my groin. My cock quite literally jumped for joy, plumping to a new record-breaking size and spitting a thin stream of pre-cum. I’m sure I gasped from both shock and bliss, and inhaled a cooling breath through my nostrils, but of course the very air that I was breathing was now perfumed with this giant’s male musk, and it only enflamed my lust.
I think he moaned. Some deep murmur emerged from his chest and rumbled against me. He rubbed the ultra-sensitive nubs of my dollar-sized nipples, causing another slim eruption of honey that splattered against me. I wasn’t cumming, but I was quite literally pre-cumming.
The elevator’s soft hum slowed, signaling our arrival. His hands crawled back up my body and his thickly-muscled torso and red-hot poker of a cock withdrew from my flesh as the doors silently parted and we moved out of the small, over-heated compartment and into yet another hallway.
The small sampling of what lay in store for me had driven my libido ape-shit. Those were just his hands, I told myself. Just his hands, and just his fingertips very gently stroking my nipples.
I was in very deep trouble.
As we moved together up the hallway toward another set of doors, I felt him caressing my left ass cheek. His grip fit the rounded muscular globe like a hand in a glove, as if my ass had been designed for his paws alone. The same blissful liquid sensation coated my skin where he touched me, and my asshole began to tingle as if in anticipation of his undoubtedly talented tongue licking it.
The doors opened as we approached, and we entered a kind of apartment. It was a large space, and it was appointed, unabashedly, for sex.
Some of the equipment I recognized. Slings, of course, and some oddly shaped furniture that would appear to make any number of positions more easily attained, allowing access to all the parts of one’s body that needed access. And there were more orthodox pieces of furniture as well; leather-upholstered couches and chairs, fur rugs, even a bar with stools that, for the most part, didn’t look all that unusual, save for the ones with dildos attached.
Then there was other types of equipment that I didn’t recognize, immediately. As well as some exercise equipment off to one side, including some benches and racks and several sets of shining chrome free weights and dumbbells, leading me to believe that this was a space reserved for only the highest level Augments and their lucky, and probably extremely wealthy, partners. After all, if 4 had been here, he would not have been surprised by my own collection of weights in my basement gym.
Once we entered the room and the doors were closed behind me, my new companion asked, “How may I serve you?” At the same time, his touched moved across the muscled hemisphere of my ass and grew near to my hungry hole, telegraphing his own desires quite distinctly. I could feel the tips of his fingers like contact points sending shocks of sex into my body.
My mind was filled with several filthy ways in which this ultimate man could serve me. I was almost overwhelmed with ideas. What couldn’t he do? Just being naked with me, and his hand on my butt, sending sparks of intense sexual power into my body, was driving me insane with need and desire.
He wanted to please me, but more than that, he couldn’t help himself. Was I doing that, or was it what he wanted all along?
“What…what….” Fuck, I could hardly catch my breath here. “Remove your hand,” I asked.
He did so instantly. I turned and found him standing so near to me, that we practically shared the same space. I took two steps backwards, a bit overwhelmed by the sheer size and mass of this man. He was larger than me in every way, and I found myself looking up into his eyes to speak to him. “Are you…you’re a 7, right?”
“No, sir.” He seemed a touch offended. “I am the Overseer.” He looked at me with something like pride, but my confused reaction caused his brow to furrow. “Technically, if one needed to assign me a ranking, I am a Level 8.”
Holy fuck! “Are there Level 9s?”
“Not that I have ever encountered before, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me sir.”
“What title would please you, sir?”
“Oh, just something simple. Like ‘Liege Lord,’” I joked.
“As you wish, Liege Lord.”
“I was kidding! Just…don’t call me anything. Just talk to me.” I watched him swallow, his Adam’s Apple bobbing on his handsome and powerful throat. “What’s an Overseer?”
“I am the Overseer.”
“Whatever that means.”
“I am in command of this Residence. Now you command me.”
This was puzzling. “I don’t understand. Explain what you mean, please.”
“I…what?” He looked surprised. It cast his handsome features into childlike innocence, and that made my cock pulse.
“I said, ‘explain what you mean, please?’”
“‘Please?’” he quoted.
“Yes? Please?” He seemed greatly confused, at least when I looked at his handsome features. All the other parts of his majestic body remained flawless and bulging and perfect. He stood there, unmoving, struggling with something that I was apparently causing. “What’s an Overseer?” I asked again.
“I am the Overseer,” he repeated.
“We’ve already established that much. What does an Overseer do?”
“I…am in charge.”
“You’re in charge of everything.”
“At this Residence.”
“But now I am in command.”
He blinked again, almost as if he were afraid of verifying his own explanation. “You command me.”
“And, what, you’ve never been commanded before?”
“No,” he answered.
I suppose I could’ve gone on asking the same thing over and over, but this was entirely shocking to me. Perhaps if I fell back on that weird computer-like speech that 4 sometimes used, and asked him for a report. “What are the full responsibilities of the Overseer?”
“The Overseer is responsible for the condition and maturation of the Residence.”
“That seems straightforward,” I replied. Looking at this man, there didn’t seem to be any task that would be out of his abilities. “But it also seems a terrible waste of resources.”
“Please don’t call me sir.”
“Sorry. Do whatever you want to.” There was a subtle shift in his demeanor, almost imperceptible, a relaxation of his face and his mammoth body. The white glow surrounding his astounding muscular frame took on slight cascades of golden light. Physically, he simply remained standing there at attention. “I just meant that it seems silly that someone like you is supposed to act like some overblown custodian, maintaining this place.”
“The Residence is not a place.”
“We were just in the Residence.”
Back to sir, again. “But that wasn’t a place?”
“The Residence is a collection of companions assigned to a particular city, district, region, area, sector, state, country or territory.”
“So, we’re in the Residence, but the Residence is also its…residents.”
“And as Overseer of this Residence, you’re responsible for its—their—condition and maturation.”
“But now you’re confused, because I’m here.”
“Because I command you.”
“You are the new Overseer.”
A chill came over me. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, sir. The Overseer must be in command of the Residence. It is through the Overseer’s command that the Residence will flourish.”
“How do you condition and mature the Residence?”
“The Overseer is granted command of the Residence and control of maturation. Only the Overseer may promote the level of those under his or her command.”
“What about the Company?”
This overly polite act of his was getting ridiculous. “Can you…? Earlier in the Residence, when you and I were having our little contest, you didn’t act this way.”
His white aura dimmed. “Do I displease you, sir?”
“It’s not…you’re not…look, can you just, like, act…normal?”
Maybe he had no concept of ‘normal,’ or his conception of it was based on that non-stop orgy of perfect male flesh we’d just attended. “Without all the sirs and the air of solicitousness and all this sycophantic demeanor.”
“It was my understanding that you would enjoy….”
“I wouldn’t. Please stop.”
His brow furrowed again. His eyes were mesmerizing in their beauty as he looked into mine. “I’m not sure I understand what you require.”
“That’s just it, I don’t require anything.”
“Then…how may I serve you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, we’ll get to the many ways that you can serve me in a minute. For now—right now—I need you to stop acting so…weird.”
“Weird, sir?” One of his eyebrows ached over his multi-colored eyes.
“Just…like…talk to me.”
“We are talking, sir.”
“No, not like…that’s exactly what I mean. You keep calling me ‘sir’ and I don’t want to be called sir.”
“No, not that either. No title. Just you and me. Talking.”
“I…am unfamiliar with the concept.”
“You don’t talk to the other men here?”
“Words are unnecessary.”
I could see how that was possible. The way this man used his body provided quite enough communication. “But we were doing it earlier. We’re doing it now.”
I sighed. I was getting nowhere. “Tell me about you.”
“I am the Overseer.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?” I joked.
He didn’t seem to have a sense of humor. “The Overseer is assigned to a Residence. The Overseer is not assigned as partner or companion.”
“Wait, you don’t go outside?”
“It is not among my duties.”
“You’ve never been outside?”
“No, sir.” He seemed consternated.
“You’ve never been with someone like me?”
“Let’s…let’s sit down.”
“Of course, sir.” He finally moved. I was struck, again, by the overwhelming power and sexuality the man exhibited in every movement of his magnificent body. Thank god there were no Level 9s. If anyone ever conjured up some behemoth more beautiful and powerful than the man before me, I’m not sure any of us could survive it.
He sat down on one of the couches and stretched his arms along the back and side, set his muscular legs wide, and lay his body physically open for me, looking up with expectation and obvious invitation. I took the unsubtle hint and seated myself within his embrace, setting my naked body against the hard contours of his, feeling that overwhelming sensation of sex as our flesh came in contact.
I settled back against his larger frame and he wrapped me in his muscled arms. The weight of them against my own body gave me a sense of his bulk and power, though in this position I could no longer look at his incredibly handsome face. Still, there was something to be said for having a muscleman as your personal seating device.
“What about the Company?” I asked.
His hands caressed my torso, moving hungrily across the marvelous mountains of muscle I now possessed. “The Company monitors and certifies the Residence.” I could feel his powerful voice against me as he spoke.
“Sending them out to fulfill contracts,” I verified.
“Yes, sir.” He moved his right hand to cup my left pec, rubbing the pad of his thumb against my nipple. My cock pulsed with pleasure.
“But you’re in charge here.”
His lips came very near to my ear. I could feel his breath as he spoke. “I was, sir.” His tongue darted out to taste me.
“You still are.” I moved myself, adjusting my position so that I could feel the intense heat of his erection along my spine. It throbbed and swelled as we fit more closely together. Was it growing larger still, or was that my imagination?
“I…don’t know.” He moved his right hand down my body, over my rippled abs, digging his fingertips into my pubic bush.
He didn’t know. Had I completely fucked something up? And if so, how could I have done that? Surely there were failsafes in place or something. “You’ve never been commanded, before?”
The fingers of his right hand were diving through the rough curls that crowned my prick. “No, sir.”
“You’ve never felt…overwhelmed…by someone.”
“No, sir.” He wrapped his hand around the thick base, resting his chin against the side of my neck, observing his hand on my cock.
I started to doubt my ability to survive his intensity. Everything he was doing to me felt almost too good to withstand. What if my amplifications wore off while we were together? What if my masculine power wasn’t enough to contain all that he was—all that he had? Would I simply go insane from pleasure? Would my body burn up under his superhuman sexual capabilities? “Why not?”
He squeezed me, forcing a flow of clear honey from my tip. The the cords of muscle lining his forearm swelled. “Sir?”
I watched myself pre-cum under his talented touch. I watched the thick warm fluid coat my skin and his. “Well, I mean, surely others have been…amplified like I have. The capsules upstairs…or…or wherever they are.” My eyes rolled into my head. I tried to maintain control, keep my voice level. “I…was lead to…believe…that this happens all the time.”
He said, “Clients sometimes receive…,” he squeezed me again, harder, and I felt a renewal of the warm wetness flooding down my erection, “…amplifications of this nature.”
“And then what happens?”
His lips kissed my neck. “To what, sir?”
I swallowed hard. “They don’t…go down to the Residence?”
Another kiss. Another squeeze. Another flow. “Some do, sir.”
“And what…what happens?”
He moved his hand up my erection. I watched it become slick with a coating of my pre-cum. “They enjoy the companionship of the Residence.”
“Sex, in other words.”
He pulled my earlobe between his teeth, and nibbled gently. “Of course, sir.”
My breath was drawing short. My cock sizzled with a need to fountain. “And what about you and me?”
“I would enjoy having sex with you, sir.” He rubbed the pliant tip of my cock with his thumb. He stroked me. He kissed me. He pinched my nipple hard. I closed my eyes and sank into his very pleasing manipulations. “It would be a unique experience.”
My brain was going to stop working any second. “Unique?”
“Overseers are normally prohibited from enjoying sexual relations with clients of the Company.”
I opened my eyes. “Wh…what?”
“Clients may contract any Augment up to Level 7.” He stroked my length with a slow, intense grip. “Level 8 are reserved as Overseers.” I was flowing copiously, now. I could feel it begin to coat my balls in wet warmth.
I sat up and turned, slightly, to see his face. “You’ve never…wait a minute. You’ve never been with….”
He smiled, licking his lips. “You would be a unique experience.”
“Why…. How is that possible?”
His hand paused. “‘Possible’ is an inaccurate assessment. It’s a question of magnitude.” He tilted his head. He could still reach my nipple, and he teased it mercilessly. His hand was still grasping my cock, and he stroked me with long, lingering caresses. “Your Level 5, sir.” I nodded. “Did you enjoy your experiences with him?”
I thought back to the lounge and my unaugmented body’s inability to cope with his fully released sexuality. “What I remember of them, sure.”
The Overseer’s voice was serene, calm, sexy as hell. “A Level 6 is supplied with capabilities approximately ten times in excess of a Level 5.”
“Level 8 Augments are sequestered to their Residences, and partner only with the companions in his command. I would be…overwhelming to our clients.” He stroked me again, and watched my cock happily responding to his touch. “I must sometimes limit myself when dealing with Level 3s and below.” He met my eyes, to amplify his innuendo.
“Overwhelming,” I quoted.
He smiled, and stroked me. “In a manner of speaking.” His massive glowing godlike cock throbbed against me.
All at once, it became abundantly clear that this was a man who was never intended to be with someone like me. Of course not. He was in charge of the augmented super race inside these walls, outfitted to be their master and overseer, able to outpace, outpower and outsex them—all of them—at the same time! Why would he have any constraints on him at all?
“I would enjoy having sex with you,” he repeated.
Oh my god. “No, I mean…well, yes, I would enjoy that too.” If I fucking survived it! I swallowed hard. ‘Overwhelmed.’ “And there is only one Level 8?”
“Only one is necessary in each Residence.”
“So a Level 7 cannot be promoted to a Level 8.”
He pulled me back against his body, displaying his physical strength, though I was in no mood to protest. He felt so good to lie against. His skin was warm. His muscles were firm. We fit together so perfectly, as if we were made for each other. “Overseers are assigned rather than promoted. My unique capabilities prohibit promotion, they must be primarily introduced at inception.”
So, he was kind of like a queen bee, or something. The man had been fed royal jelly, and out popped this towering godlike being.
The man beneath me was so powerful, that not even a Level 7 could become one. And whatever a Level 5 could do, a Level 6 could do ten times better. Which meant mathematically, if one were to extend that calculation, a Level 7 was 100 times stronger—in every way—than my Level 5.
My head was swimming. And my cock was drooling. A Level 8? Could I withstand it? “But the thing that just happened.”
“You command me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You said that you promote the level of those under your command.”
“And you noticed the two Augments who came in with me?”
“Yes. A Level 4 and a Level 5.” He paused and his lips were at my ear again. “My compliments on your fortitude.”
Fuck, that voice in my head. I nearly shuddered with pleasure. “When the Level 4 and I met, he was a Level 3.”
There was a pause, and his manipulations of the various parts of me ceased. “Pardon me?”
“When I was with him, he matured into a Level 4.”
“Excuse me, but…that’s not possible.” His previous tone of odd professionalism had returned.
“Because you promote them.”
His hands merely rested against me. My copious flow was now draining from him and winding through the deep valleys of my abdominal wall, though my cock still throbbed with desire. It missed his touch. “Yes.”
“There’s no other manner in which an Augment could mature?”
Another silent pause. It made me ache to look at his face, to watch the intelligence flash across those handsome features. “I can think of no set of circumstances where that occurrence would be possible. Without an Overseer in command, no maturation is allowed.”
“Allowed? Or possible?”
“I…don’t understand the distinction.”
I recalled the transmission I had received shortly after 3 became 4. “I was under the impression that this was an abnormality, but not unheard of. The Company offered the Level 5 as a replacement, but I insisted on keeping them both because I…he…the bond…anyway, they tried scaring me about some kind of, um, physical this or unstable that. But you’re telling me this can’t happen.”
“Then why did they…?”
“I don’t know. But I assure you that a candidate can’t be promoted accidentally.”
“How do you do it?”
“An Overseer is augmented with maturation capabilities. When a candidate is primed, the candidate and I partner. They are matured.”
“There is a joining, and they are matured.”
“That’s still not very clear.” Hell, maybe he took that huge magical cock and fucked them bigger.
“It’s the only explanation in my awareness.” He paused and then said, “Perhaps it was you.”
I leaned up and turned around. “Me? How could it be me?”
God, his face was gorgeous. I could sit here looking at him for the rest of my life and never grow tired—or limp. “How have you commanded me? When that was also impossible?”
I was a little scared of my next statement, but I said it anyway. “I…released my companions.”
His brow furrowed. “Released them?”
“That’s the word they used. My companions.”
“Why would…what would they be released from?”
“I wanted them to act according to their own desires.”
Obvious interest appeared on his striking features. “Please explain what that means.”
So, there was at least one thing similar about all Augments. I wondered if I was going to have go through this all again, as I had done with my first Augment, and not fall into some logic loop. Perhaps the fact that I ‘commanded’ this Level 8 would help me, though I wondered how such a man—one who claimed he had never been commanded by anyone before—would be confused by the concept of free will.
“Well, you’re never under someone else’s command.” He nodded. “And you’ve never been outside the Residence.” Another nod. “Your entire life has been lived within these walls, fulfilling your duties, Overseer to the candidates.” A third nod. “But what if you didn’t want to do that anymore.”
“I want to do that.”
“Yes, but what if you didn’t.”
It was clearly beyond his comprehension again. “I want to.”
I pulled in a long breath. This was going to be even harder. Unless…
I stood up, rising from his embrace. He watched me, awaiting my commandments. “Lie down,” I instructed. He moved his great muscular bulk into the cushions of the leather-clad couch, stretching its full length. Happily—and eagerly, I crawled atop his body, chest to chest, feeling that sensation of warmth and sex permeating my flesh again.
He supported me with no apparent effort, as did the couch, though it groaned in protest. We were face to face, now. Eye to eye. No space between us. I said, “Don’t kiss me,” and placed my lips to his.
At first, he did nothing, because I had given a command.
But I kept kissing him, and I think I mentioned that I’m a very accomplished kisser. I poured everything into that sucker, and after a few moments I think my amplified masculine power kicked in to high gear and started to enforce itself on his unyielding superhuman body.
I sensed a shift in him. Subtle at first, and then growing in intensity.
He began to kiss me back.
His arms surrounded me, again. The heat of his body increased. The sensation of sexual bliss began to radiate with stronger currents. I ground my muscular body against his, feeling the heat of both of our cocks begin to radiate like small suns between our naked forms.
My heart began to pound in my chest. I think I was sweating. Because receiving a kiss from a Level 8 Augment was something like cooking a steak over a nuclear blast.
Once he joined in, I was nearly overcome. I have no idea what augmentations and amplifications are. Synthetics, chemicals, computer chips, femtobots—maybe all of those things. Maybe they just discovered how to manipulate DNA to create these superhuman beings.
Whatever it was, this man had them in bulk. He’d been to the superstore and stockpiled them for a long winter.
I wanted to cum. I’m certain that if I hadn’t gone through the extremely painful process of being rebuilt from the ground up and then pumped so full of power that I could take this guy on, my brain would’ve boiled over from the level of sexual bliss I was receiving just from this man’s two lips against mine.
Once he opened his mouth, and our tongues were wrestling inside the shared wet heat of our mouths, it was all over.
This was more than sex. Way, way, way more. This kiss was—Jesus, I started to wonder if I could survive him once he unleashed himself.
I had to pull away. I was becoming lost to him. I did not want that kiss to end, and I could easily have become his willing slave just so it wouldn’t.
I looked at him. He looked at me. I managed to ask, “Why did you kiss me?”
“I wanted to.”
“But I commanded that you shouldn’t.”
“Why did you disobey?”
“Don’t be sorry. You were acting according to your desires.”
“All right. That’s a start.” Fuck I was still super horned up from that kiss. And his cock was still glowing like a lightning rod, throbbing in time to my heart. Something else occurred to me. “You’re not…you’re not calling me ‘sir,’ anymore.”
“You told me not to.”
“Right, but, before…you kept doing it anyway.” I looked at him, and asked, “Do I still command you?”
“I want to do whatever you want to do,” he answered.
“That’s not the same thing. Do you want to do whatever I want to do, even if you don’t want to do it?”
“I…am not sure.”
Fuck. What the hell was happening, now? Maybe my superpowers were already diminishing and this guy was going to start having his way with me any moment. My ass was toast! “Can you command me to do something?”
“Kiss me.” He smiled.
“No, something I don’t want to do.” I’d fucking love to fucking kiss him. There were very few things in life I’d love to do more—but they all involved him.
“Can you offer an example?”
I smiled. “Tell me to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” He held me tighter. I felt that hand crawling once again over the muscled mound of my buttock, and the magical touch of his fingers slipping between my cheeks.
God, this man. Oh, my god. “Tell me to leave, anyway.”
He pushed his fingers toward my backdoor, accompanied by intense throbs of sexual bliss. He put his soft lips to my ear and whispered, gruffly, “Leave.”
I had absolutely no desire to do so.
I felt him intruding inside me with his middle finger. Shocks of rapturous delight erupted. And this was just the man’s finger! “Tell me to do something else.”
He pushed inside. “Like what?”
I squirmed in ecstasy. I gasped with utter elation. I could barely manage to think, let alone speak. “What do you want to me to do?”
He smiled again, and those multicolored eyes flashed. He growled two words, like a threat and a promise and a desire all at once. “Fuck me.”
His embrace tightened around me. I could feel every solid-packed muscle of his body pressing against mine. His mouth met my mouth, willingly and eagerly. His lips were soft, warm, moist, perfect. His cock was rock hard, and white hot. We were gazing into each other’s eyes. The world could have ended and I would have been unaware of its passing.
The kiss ended. I watched his handsome face light up as he smiled with filthy intent and obscene desire.
“Your wish is my command,” I growled.
We moved immediately to the biggest bed I’d ever seen. He wanted me to fuck him. I wanted to fuck him. There was no need for either of us to contend with the other—we were equals, now, or at least of one mind about what we both wanted.
Was I still in command of him? I suppose I could’ve tested myself and my power against his, debased him or ordered him to do something that would demean his stature as Alpha Male, but I was never that kind of guy.
My interest in my status as amplified superman wasn’t really about overpowering anyone. Earlier, in the Residence, I was testing my limits. And he was the most obvious—in fact, the lone—target that posed any sort of challenge to me. Why not take my new body out for a test drive? Push the pedal all the way to the floor and see what this baby could do?
And then there he was, the titan in the room, bigger than anyone, better than anyone, standing up to me pound for pound and pushing me harder and harder to become…whatever I was becoming.
Would I have given in to him? Why not? I mean, one look at this man and anyone else would’ve willingly gone with him and done his bidding. Just to spend a moment in his presence, to be able to gaze upon his face and body, to feel the pure masculine power of him penetrating one’s skin with its heat and hardness. What could be better than that?
But I could stand up to him. We could stand up to each other. It made me feel…amazing. It made me feel as if I could compete on equal footing with someone like him, if only for a night.
And then I had won him. Like a prize or a trophy.
And then what?
Would I want to despoil his perfection? Would I want to tarnish his shine, make him less than he was, when he was all that I wanted?
I had won. Contest over.
And now we were together.
As I crawled atop him, he wrapped one of his thickly muscled legs about me, pinning my bulk to his. He kissed my mouth, sending cascades of sensual bliss throughout my body. I could feel the heat and hardness of his massive cock against me, and his arms were steel bands lined with silk that crushed me in a most agreeable fashion.
I ground my prick into the rock-hard muscles of his tremendous frame. My cock was pulsing and throbbing and a hot slick of pre-cum was now flowing out in a constant stream, sealing us together with sticky honey.
His other leg was around me. I was locked inside his muscled embrace, and everywhere our skin touched—which was everywhere—that luxuriant profusion of sensual sensations shook my new, massive body to its core.
I was a little scared of him. If it felt this good just being with him, kissing him, feeling his naked flesh and powerful muscles pressing against me, what would it feel like to enter him and approach orgasm? Would I simply explode, like my cock wanted to, and send everything I had and everything I was through the tip of my prick into his perfect form? Would I light up like a sun and burn away? Would I simply go mad from pleasure and sink into some blackness I could never escape from?
Frankly, I couldn’t give a fuck. I wanted him, and he wanted me.
His hands caressed my flesh. I grabbed his hair and pulled, which made him kiss me harder. He liked a little manhandling, after all. And you know what they say about bottoms—they’re the ones in charge the whole time.
He was playing me like a violin, I was a Stradivarius and he was fucking Paganini. Did I still command him when he was doing exactly what I wanted without question? Did he command me, because I was doing exactly what he wanted? Did command matter anymore?
We fell into a perfect rhythm, all prelude to the crescendo of our naked concert, and every note, every movement, every nuance was beautiful.
I arched my back as he pushed those talented fingers inside me, and he discovered with his other hand that my nipples were superbly sensitive. I kissed his mouth and showed him that I was his equal in that department, hungry for his lips and twisting a dance of tongues that made both our cocks squirt happily.
Things got more athletic. He was rubbing his leg along mine, grabbing hold of a thick slab of lat muscle, and we tumbled sideways.
Separated for a moment, he moved like a viper and plunged his mouth onto my prick to swallow me whole. I gasped and shuddered as he sucked on me with finesse and able expertise. I pushed myself into his face and grabbed on, pistoning my hips to the wet, slurping sounds of a man who wouldn’t gag on a broomstick shoved down to his belly.
He moaned with pleasure and I wanted his cock in my mouth, wondering if I could manage the monster. I struggled to 69 us together, but my bossy bottom would have none of it. I was his playtoy, now, and my cock was for his use alone.
It felt like I was coming. It felt like I was shooting thick ropes of hot cream down his throat, but I could not tell truth from fantasy anymore. He grabbed my ass and pulled my crotch into his handsome face, in a non-stop suck fest that made me think I was somehow feeding him oxygen through my prick. The man was insatiable, and did not come up for air until he was satisfied.
My cock sprang from his mouth and he looked up at my face, smiling evilly. “You’re ready,” he told me.
Ready for what? Shit, I was born fucking ready.
My cock was slick with spit and pre. It glistened like some glowing popsicle, made of fire instead of ice, and he lay back onto the bed, grabbed onto his ankles and pulled himself wide open for me, splitting his legs apart as easily as pulling a drumstick from a well-cooked chicken. It shocked me at first, watching this muscular man so easily open himself to me.
So, flexible as well as strong—that would certainly prove handy.
I watched the mounds of muscle stretch and pull as he so easily spread himself like a feast before me. What else could I do except dig in?
I fucking love to rim a hole. Fucking. Love. It. And here was a hole literally built for rimming.
I licked him in small laps, like ice cream on a cone. I moved my hands along his mile-long legs, feeling the muscle and sweat. He smelled ripe and powerful, and I lapped up his asshole and taint and balls, coating him in a thick glaze of spit, preparing him for my intrusion.
He fucking loved it. He started to glow with incandescence, and sharp flares of red sprang up as his passion built. I watched his cock spurt a glaze of pre-cum on his abs and chest. It swelled and throbbed and spit like a cobra, gushing a heavy dose of his juices across the muscled expanse of his incredible torso.
His scent. That scent. Nothing else like it in the world. Nothing would ever compare to him. At his core, I was diving into the heart of his masculine energy, and it was pumping out the pure, unfiltered essence of man by the bucket.
I pushed my tongue inside his butt to taste his earthy tang. I pried his tightness open and lapped him up, and I think he whimpered with need. I teased and prodded and drove him mad with desire for my cock, watching his massive body squirm and cry for it.
I slid from the bed, standing on the floor and physically yanked him to me, positioning my red hot poker at his backdoor and rubbed myself against him.
He could feel the heat of me, and the hardness, and the size. He squirted again, and his breath was short and ragged. Fuck, he wanted me. He wanted my cock more than he had ever wanted anything. His desire for me came through in hard waves that struck my libido and made me squirt in unison with him.
We were together in this heat. Roused into a passion of perfect sexual unison, two men equal to the task of the most perfect fuck in the world.
I pulled his ass onto my cock, like a condom made of manmeat. My body swelled with muscle for the task. I wanted to use him, not service him. I wanted his ass around my fat prick and then I would fuck him like no one had ever fucked this flawless, massive, beautiful man, making him remember me inside him forever. Wanting me there forever.
He was fucking heavy! Jesus, the man was truly made of stone or steel, but I pulled him physically with my amplified strength and seated him on my cock. All the way in, sword to the hilt.
Immediately, I was overcome with sexual bliss. I groaned and my eyes rolled back and my head lolled on my powerful neck and everything, everything, everything felt good.
He groaned as well. I felt him moving, seating himself fully on me, welcoming me inside and tightening himself around me, as if we had been designed to fulfill this single function and, now met, had completed a circuit that was feeding each of us an insane current of constant, unending, overwhelming euphoria.
I was trembling with the power of us. And then I moved, pulling my fat prick from his heat in an achingly slow fuck that sent earthquake rumbles along the length of my 5-ton cock and made me unload liters of cream into his guts.
I felt his body tense up. Every muscle suddenly flexed. He could feel it too. The intensity of the fuck was insane. I felt like I was coming constantly as I slowly—very, very slowly—withdrew my weapon from his hot hole and then, when I could withstand the sensations of sex no longer, I shoved myself home again.
A flood emerged from my cock inside him. His cock suddenly exploded with a fat gout of thick whiteness. He groaned and moved his large hands into the wealth of his release and spread it over his perfect skin. It glazed his muscles in sex, and he lifted his hand to his mouth and lacquered his full, soft lips with cum before licking it off.
My body shook with the power of my ejaculation. And I started the action again. Slowly—slowly—pulling myself along the warm, tight heat of his body, feeling the irrational and inconceivable level of delirious sexual volume build and build and build.
And then I fucked him, shoving my cock deep inside him, and came again.
So did he. His cock swelled and hardened and released another fat spray from its gaping mouth, showering his magnificent body in enough hot cream to feed a varsity football team. It arced above him and splattered on the thick globes of his chest, clinging to his skin and nipples before slowly sinking into the centimeters-deep valley between his pecs. He gathered it again in his fingers and sucked it off, moaning deeply.
I remained seated inside his ass as my cock finished its latest powerful orgasm.
Then I started again. The slow withdrawal. The powerful cascade of sexual rapture gripping every millimeter of my huge prick as it traveled along his hot, wet chute, then pushing myself in with a sudden, powerful thrust that sent both of us into uncontrolled spasms of orgasmic release. I felt myself jet ropes of cum inside him as I watched his hard-on spit fat eruptions so copious that it glazed his immense body in a sea of his cream.
He met my gaze as I was seated deeply inside him. He licked his lips as they parted, and he pulled air inside his overheated body. “Harder,” he said.
I smiled and thought, ‘All right.’
I fucked him harder. Now I was pulling him into me as I pushed myself into him. Two sweaty, big-dicked, supercharged muscle beasts. The slow withdrawals and sudden thrusts turned into a steady rhythm of hard fucks, slamming my massive meat into his tight hole.
The heat of sex grew even stronger. Cum was pumping from my cock in constant fountains. It slicked up his tight tube and splashed against me, squeezed from him by the size and hardness of my pistoning prick.
A glaze of cream coated his body as his own cock acted in kind, and we fucked and came together as I held his legs in my hand and used his massive body as my personal fucktoy, my thrusts growing faster and harder as the heat grew higher and higher.
I was already cumming, already achieving orgasm with every thrust, but something else was building. I could feel it. Something huge. Something powerful.
I could feel it. Building not in me, and not in him, but in us—together.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I fucked him harder. He was groaning, shouting, crying out. His cock splattered hot cream everywhere. His body shook the room as I slammed into him, fucking his entire muscled body, physically pushing and pulling on him as my prick slammed into his tight, hot ass.
We were in a frenzy of sex. The pleasure was intense, and getting stronger. My muscles sang and stung as I manhandled his huge body and impaled him on my mammoth cock. I was flooding him with cream, pumping in an almost unbroken stream, now.
Was this part of my amplifications? Did being the most powerful man mean the most powerful orgasm, the most powerful balls, the most powerful cum? I wasn’t in control of that, my body had taken over, succumbing to the joining of him and I, and the sheer unlimited passion of the fuck.
His ass was doing its utmost to hold me inside him, too. He had some insane, and probably augmented, capability to make it feel like a kind of mouth, sucking my dick as I came, fucking his ass, sliding in and out of his tight heat, and I had never felt this good in my life.
He was coming as constantly as I. The copious load his body was able to release was awesome to see. His cock, fat and hard and thick, was shooting geysers of cream that splattered all over his amazing muscular body, frosting him in sex. His cock would plump and darken and swell and launch its hot, sticky load in a thick, splattering fountain that smelled like he did—the essential power of man.
It was as if I had found his ‘on’ switch. I couldn’t have turned him off if I wanted to—and I didn’t want to, I wanted this. I needed this. My new body was over-pumped with male power and more than ready now to have its way with whomever it encountered. I was primed for the epic fuck. My cock was rock hard, my balls were on overdrive and my whole body was sizzling with sex.
If my brain was having a hard time processing this, my body was loving it.
Every pump into his hole was accompanied by a thick pump of cream. I was a machine—a literal fuck machine. I watched myself slide in and out of his pink pucker as gushing surges of cum splashed out against me. My cock was throbbing with bliss. My balls felt like lead weights. Every muscle on my body was plump with power and saturated with strength.
He lifted his head and looked at me. I was holding his ankles in my grip and spreading him open for my pleasure. “Kiss me,” he begged. His voice was ragged and needful.
I released his legs and he held them in position with effortless muscle control as I bent towards him, keeping my hips thrusting and my cock pumping his hole. I slid across his cum-coated skin and felt the heat of his cream squirting between us. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Pump, pump, pump. His body was shifting under me as I fucked him hard, and our lips inched nearer.
Heat. Sex. Power. Building and building.
What was happening? What was going to happen?
Did sparks fly as our mouths came near? Was literal electricity humming in a current between us, or was it that his emanations of pure male sex had grown so strong that I could feel it before we even touched? His body was hard as steel and smooth as silk. I was plugged in to the heart of masculine beauty and perfect sexual bliss. My cock was a raging torrent of power, throwing off shocking ragged flows of my amplified virility like coruscating bolts of pure male energy, shoving the core of my overwhelming and irresistible mighty strength into the heart of the most beautiful and perfect man I had ever beheld.
Mouth to mouth. Cock to ass. Circuit complete.
How could I have known what would happen? Should I have suspected what my companions had in mind when I released them? Could I have foreseen the consequences of my actions, the steps involved in the culmination of their plan, and how I had been so easily lead to this point? This perfect meeting between the ultimate expression of male perfection and the man who could release even an Overseer?
The first jolt was like nothing I had ever experienced. Even within the heat of our epic fuck, my constant orgasmic release and his overwhelmed body suddenly freed of constraints and regulations. I had dominion. Ultimate dominion. What had 5 told me when given my options? “Supremacy and ascendancy of power beyond imagining. The surging paragon of ultimate and unlimited muscle. You will feel your body growing in strength more ardent and irresistible than you have ever dreamed.”
Power. Strength. Yes. And why? Why me?
Then also, my companion’s ascension to Level 4 status. “That’s not possible,” the Overseer said. Not possible without him. Mistakes happen, though, don’t they? Sometimes cogs don’t fit the machine, and sometimes they fit perfectly.
Evolution is a tricky bitch when you start playing with her building blocks.
Perhaps they knew me better than I knew myself—had the bond played a part, delivering something to 4 that I could otherwise keep hidden? And perhaps he had known from the start, but that was hard to imagine.
Nothing of these thoughts or memories occurred to me as my body was assailed with the Overseer’s maturation process. A built-in mechanism. A power only he possessed.
We connected. Circuit complete.
I shook with sudden and overwhelming energy. No pain, this time, only pleasure. Not like the machine, which had primed me for this, and opened me up for its installation. I felt his arms surround me. So strong, so thick, so hard. His wealth of hot cream slipped between us. I shoved my cum inside him. He kissed me, twisting his tongue around mine.
Fuck. I exploded. It felt like everything was coming out of my cock. Everything I was. Everything I had become. And even as I released it inside him, he gave it back to me—redoubled in power and swollen in size.
It made me kiss him harder. It made me cum harder. I pushed inside him and I started to experience the biggest, longest, most intense orgasmic release that anyone, probably, has ever had.
Fuck, I came. I came buckets. I was shooting a geyser inside him.
He held onto me as I changed. I could feel it, like heat and sex and power. My whole body lit up. Bliss beyond bliss. Becoming something more. Something better. Something bigger.
No one was there to witness my becoming. No one saw my body swelling again. No one stood by the two naked men fucking on the bed as one began to change the other, and the other began to grow even larger than his companion.
Power. Pure, clean, perfect, uncontrollable power flowed into me. My muscles grew. My strength grew. My body grew. I felt his arms trying to hold onto me as I inflated with muscle. I felt my cock growing thicker and longer inside him.
I kissed him. I fucked him. We were joined. I was matured.
Level 8? Level 9? Where was I going? What would I be? Larger even than him? More beautiful? More powerful?
The jolts of pure power continued to inflate me. Bigger and bigger. More mighty and capable of anything. Anything I desired. Anything anyone desired.
I honestly have no idea how long it took. I don’t know how long we were together. A few minutes? An hour? A moment? One perfect moment within an unending and uncontrollable sexually flawless connection. Simultaneous delivery of incomparable power. Mine into him, his into me.
Was this what we were heading towards all along? Was this the next step? Was God taking a hand, was nature ready for the next plateau, was mankind reaching a new plain of perfection and I—and he—we were the platform to raise all of us up?
I cannot say. I still don’t know.
It went on and on. He and I, locked together in that perfect moment of pure male power. I was growing. Growing in size and strength and power. Swollen with it. Expanding and bulging, tumescent with everything masculine and muscular and sexual and carnal.
I wanted to see. I wanted to watch. Him and me, together, growing.
I pulled reluctantly from the kiss but kept my hips thrusting my hard prick deeply inside him. He came and I came and I stood over him, and saw him growing. I looked down at my own body and saw it swelling, changing, bulging with even more muscle.
‘Impossible,’ I thought to myself. My chest was swelling forward. My shoulders piling higher with mass. My heavy arms grew heavier still. My point of view was shifting as my whole body was rising to contain the added mass.
I fucked him as I grew, slow and steady. Every pump bought fresh power for my growing body. He groaned and growled in ecstatic bliss. I felt myself pumping cream inside his guts and watched his gun shooting fat blasts of cum with every forceful shove of my 30 centimeter 10-ton cock inside his tight, hot hole.
The sensation began to diminish, as all things must. I had touched perfection and come away changed. I was coming down from the peak with the tablets in my hands. I had been sitting beneath the Bodhi tree and achieved nirvana. My body was swarming with the power of the Overseer.
I pulled myself from him, luxuriating in the sensation of his ass trying to hold all of me inside because he was not finished with me. I broke the bond. I watched his body shift, and grow more relaxed but no less impressively hard. The circuit was broken and I had become more than I was—more than anyone had ever been before.
His cock stopped fountaining that unending source of refinement and evolution. My cock stopped pumping thick, sticky cream from my celestial balls to drive the engines of change and began, finally, to grow limp between my gargantuan legs. I looked upon his face and saw what we had done.
What did a Level 9 look like? Like this man. Undoubtedly.
What did a Level 10 look like? Only I could answer that question.
“Supremacy and ascendancy of power beyond imagining. The surging paragon of ultimate and unlimited muscle. You will feel your body growing in strength more ardent and irresistible than you have ever dreamed.” 5’s words echoing in my head again as I finally straightened fully to my towering majesty.
I was at least as large as he was, now, this giant man spread before me. He was smiling and his eyes were closed. Probably he had to regenerate or something after the maturation cycle. I couldn’t imagine that expending that much energy was easy, although hadn’t I just done the same thing and now felt more powerful than ever? Maybe the transfer was what did it—I had absorbed his power and grown from it, but his body was compensating for all it had been asked to do.
I stroked myself. My cock was still slick with cum and the juices from inside him, and it was warm and meaty. Hard shocks of pleasure shook me along every millimeter of its new impressive length. I gasped, unprepared for it, and realized that if I wanted to I could start all over again, plumping the monster to full glory and plugging into his perfect tightness, experiencing even more of all he had to offer.
But I needed to see myself. I needed to know what I was, now. I felt as if my muscles were going to burst through the tight, elastic skin holding them in. I looked down at my right arm and twisted my hand around, watching the bulges and cables flex and strain in beautiful harmonious perfection. I tightened my fingers into a fist and realized that my forearm was now at least as large as my upper arm had been—and it was now monumental.
Sweat coated my skin. I felt hot, as if I had been pulled from a furnace, freshly created from the pure refined metal of absolute masculine perfection. There was no mold that had made me, I was my own creation, and no one before me had reached this level.
I turned reluctantly from his beauty in search of a place to behold my own magnificence. I wondered, idly, if any mirror would do justice to how I felt. Could my body reflect the supreme sense of power I was feeling? Had I changed so much outwardly, to evidence the inward changes I could feel coursing through me?
So much power. So much strength. Almost overwhelming.
It was a large space, though not larger than my own home. Would I ever go back there, I wondered? Would I see my old friends, visit my old stomping grounds, walk the streets of this city looking as I do now without stopping traffic dead and causing hysterical masturbatory riots? Would I wear clothing, deigning to cover up even a millimeter of my perfection and beauty?
The space that held the workout equipment had one wall covered in a single, unbroken mirrored surface. I approached it with a touch of trepidation. Looking down at myself, I was prepared for what I expected to see.
Muscle, certainly, and no end of it. I was enormous everywhere, and all the muscle was bulging outward from my body like a roadmap of brawn. My chest was so large I could hardly see over it. My shoulders reared up in my peripheral vision. My arms were overwhelmed with fat wedges and balls of hard meat.
I stepped before the mirrored wall with my eyes closed, wanting to experience all that I was now in a sudden, all-encompassing view.
I took a deep breath. I felt my heart beating hard. Blood surged through me like lava. My cock throbbed and tingled.
I opened my eyes.
So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him.
Remember that? It’s from Genesis. Book one, chapter twenty-seven to be exact. It could be taken literally, I suppose, though I tend to view it in more universal terms. The image of God is the being of God, not simply the appearance. Why does a god need to look like anything? Why is there a need for a god at all?
Churches continue to preach their versions of truth, though their congregations are shrinking. Maybe humanism grows in power because humans do. Haven’t we become the new gods? Creating others in our own image, except now we’re making them better.
Better looking. Better performing. More powerful. Stronger. Sexier. Pumping the volume up to eleven on the human scale of ten. Amplified and augmented until anything we consider unworthy or tainted can be brushed aside, and everything we honor and worship and venerate can be supplemented or honed to a perfect edge.
Then we ask them to serve us.
If there is a god, is he angry and vengeful, or loving and forgiving? If you ask me, he couldn’t give a shit about any of us. I mean, wasn’t that the whole point? Creating us, giving us life, then setting us up on this world and telling us “go for it!” Freewill and all that. Do as you will, and do that to others, and share and be cool and happy and love each other, because why the hell not?
Seems easy. Harder in practice.
The usual sins rear their shaggy heads. Jealousy, greed, envy, pride, count them off on your fingers and you can probably think of someone to personify it. So we start to hate each other for what we don’t have, and want to hang on to all that we do.
But what if we could share everything without limits? What if I gave everything to you without expecting anything back? Would I be closer to god?
God’s image, if He had one, would be perfect. That’s pretty much agreed upon, but no one really considers what ‘perfection’ means. Without flaw? Maybe. Unable to make mistakes? I suppose that would make one perfect—unless that inability to make mistakes is only an inability to recognize them. I mean, come on, look around. Even if this is some god’s plan, a lot of it is pretty fucked up.
God, then. What is a god, and what does a god do? Does a god know he is a god? Does a god care?
I opened my eyes.
I watched the man before me come.
I watched his cock inflate with impossible speed, swelling and lengthening and turning deeply red. I watched veins wind along the centimeters of his mammoth cock and feed its growth to ultimate glory. I watched the head of his instrument bloom and grow shiny and then it was spitting a fat fountain of cream that shot directly at me and splattered in a dripping mass against the mirror, sounding almost like a rifle shot as it struck with its force.
I felt an orgasm of impossible size shake me. I felt the wealth of cream that my balls could produce speeding through the sizable shank of sex flesh between my legs and heard it emerge like liters of thick cream forced from a nozzle that was too small to allow its flow.
My cock was exploding because I was looking at myself. My own reflection has caused me to instantly and spontaneously orgasm so much cum that I was all but obliterating that reflection with it. My cock went from limp to hard in less than a second and started pushing my load up and out because I could not help myself.
I was panting and coated in sweat. My heart was racing. I was hornier than I had ever been in my life—and considering all that I had been through so far this night, that was no idle boast.
My initial blast was followed by several more as I tried to contain my utter bliss at the sight of my own reflection. I balled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes shut and came and came and came, the initial reflection of my magnificence burned into my mind’s eye as I watched it happen over and over.
Me. There. Then…explosion. Bliss. Perfection.
It stopped eventually, though it felt as though I could go on with the orgasm forever. My cock stayed hard and throbbing, drooling a fat river of cum that ran down its impressive mass and clung to my balls. I could not see myself anymore in that section of mirror. I had come so much that I had coated it and…it looked like…but that couldn’t be, could it?
But I had. I had done it. I had cracked the mirror with my initial explosion. I came so hard that I managed to break it as if I had punched it with my fist.
I moved to one side of the dripping mess and tried to prepare myself again. I now knew what I looked like, so perhaps I could contain the power of my heightened sexual capabilities and not quite explode so completely again.
I turned, and watched him turn towards me in the mirror. The room smelled like sex. Maybe I smelled that way, too. I could see the aura that surrounded me, and it made me look angelic or godlike, a bright white glow radiating out like sun rays.
It was difficult, at first, to believe my own eyes. That’s a cliche, but in this case it was true. What I saw in the mirror before me was impossible. How could a man—how could a person—a human—look like that?
That was me. In the mirror. My face. My body. My perfection.
I asked before what perfection was, but now I knew—I was looking at it. I was living inside it. Somehow, in some magical and unbelievable way, I had been changed utterly. Some combination of things both natural and artificial, something within me and something placed inside me had unified in a very physical demonstration of perfection.
It was stilll me. Particularly around the eyes and mouth. I licked my lips and watched the reflection of perfect masculine power do it, too. I moved my hand to wave at myself. My arm was massive—shockingly muscular and beautifully developed. I could feel the power coursing through it, ready to be unleashed at my whim.
I was very large. Very, very large. Whether or not that is an aspect of human perfection can be debated, but that’s the only way to describe me. If I were to walk into a room now, the first thing you would notice—should you be lucky enough to witness my arrival—would be my size. I would tower over you, and everyone, except perhaps for the tallest basketballers or the widest wide receivers or the heaviest heavyweight boxers.
And muscle. Lots of muscle. Perhaps a literal ton of it. Arranged onto my frame in a harmonious marriage, so that every one of them—and I could see every single one of them—was perfect in its development, size, shape and beauty.
This is what god meant when he designed man. This is what he aimed for. This is, without a single doubt, what god looks like.
I then simply stood there, unmoving, perhaps in shock at what I saw. I was almost afraid to move again, because that would destroy the illusion I saw before me. The entire mirror would shatter and I would no longer be able to gaze at the man there, and his face and body and muscles and cock.
My cock. I looked at my cock. No, I fucking stared at it, as my mouth began to water. Cock-hungry. Is that a word? It should be. I wanted to wrap my mouth around the thick shank of beautiful cock meat that I saw hanging so thick and lengthy from the center of my new, perfect body. I saw my arm move and my hand open and I took my cock into my hand and hefted its weight into my strong grip.
Again, I was assailed by stiff shocks of sex along every millimeter of my new cock. It weighed a fucking metric ton. It started to throb with a very potent need. The thing was a fucking monster. I was almost afraid of its beauty and power. I rubbed its head with the pad of my thumb, trying a tentative inspection and wondering how sensitive it was.
I nearly came again. And I knew I could have. I knew that I could make it rise to its ultimate glory and pump a rope of cream so rapturous and thick and ample that I would splatter the reflection of my perfection right off the mirror. I would feel my load travel up the several centimeters of its impressive thick shaft and hear it emerge from its mouth as if I had unleashed god’s own flood on the earth. I would fountain a heavy wealth of warm, thick, sticky cum and anyone I touched with it would start to change like I had.
He would become something more. Something better.
I laid it gently back against me, almost trembling from the sheer depth of its power, and brushed my fingers along my fat, heavy ball sack, touching the source of holy evolution and ultimate masculine potency. I held it there, and made it, and would give it away in copious fountains through the dominance of my cock.
I raised my gaze to take in all of me. Still overwhelmed at the man I beheld there in the mirror.
I was at rest, but looked fully pumped and hard-flexed. I decided to test my new muscle, and raised my right arm, watching the play of muscle along its length, and bent it at the elbow, tightening my hand into a fist to drive the biceps—the long head and the short head, for I could discern both easily—and triceps and pronator and flexor and brachioradialis and other muscles that I didn’t know names for, or maybe they were new muscles that had no names, drive them into a frenzy of swollen beauty as I flexed my arm into full bloom.
My mouth dropped open as I watched it happen. My muscle truly did bloom, swelling outward and unfolding from its relaxed state until the whole of my arm was overwhelmed with muscle.
Then my chest and back and shoulder joined the party. Deltoid and pectoralis major and minor. Subscrapularis and teres major and minor. Trapezius and latissimus. Unfolding and blossoming and swelling. Bands of power. Cables of power. Fucking mighty balls of muscle growing harder and tighter and larger as I flexed.
I brought up my other arm, watching the other side match its brother in size and shape and beauty, perfectly harmonious and awesomely powerful.
Bigger and bigger, as if all I had to do was wish for it to be so. I could feel them sing with restrained might. I knew that I could do anything I wanted to do with them. That I was unstoppable and invincible, the supreme being.
I lowered my arms and watched my display of power subside. My cock was throbbing. My balls tingled. I shook the heavy meat on my thigh and then tensed it into defined wedges of meat, solidifying against my flawless skin. I traced the edges of clearly defined bands, placing my fingertip into separations between the three heads of the vastus muscles, pushing against the rock-hard brawn without making a dent.
I could feel the swell of my glutes pressing outward by the centimeter. My ass was its own godlike creation. I ached to see it.
Even though I had to weigh close to 200 kilos, I felt light and nearly weightless. Was that what this much strength meant? My muscles carried their own weight with effortless ease. And I understood now how my partner had been both overwhelmed with brawn, and able to be inhumanly flexible. I knew that I could easily mimic his athletic splits, pressing my legs apart to open myself to anyone who wanted in. My ass was a feast.
I turned to the side to see the hellacious and insane taper of my upper body to my tight waist, and the manner in which the meaty, rounded shelf of my ass stuck out a full kilometer. I moved my hand along its rounded contour, slapped it resoundingly, and slipped my fingers into my crack. It was hot in there, steaming with sex, and when I withdrew my fingers I brought them to my nostrils to inhale the smell of the ultimate man.
I turned fully about and bent over, spreading my muscled legs wide and shoving my hole at the reflection, my incredibly beautiful face appearing between my legs. A tight, pink, perfect pucker looked back at me. I moved my hand over the swelling muscles along my back and inched my middle digit to the eye at the entryway to perfect godlike sex. My skin was smooth and silken, and I could feel every point of contact with a vastly heightened sensuality. I moved my finger to the warm, moist access to my cave of wonders and rubbed myself gently before pushing inside.
Instantly, I shook with delight. Intense shocks—no, bolts of sexual energy shot through my body, and I tested the muscular control I had inside me. I clamped down painfully on my own finger, then opened the hole wide enough to easily allow someone of my own impressive girth to enter the door to ecstasy. I could fucking stick a horsecock in there now and have room for more.
A kind of sexual feedback loop started happening. My finger was a dick, pushing inside my ass. My ass was sending out throbs of intense bliss that somehow entered the flesh of my finger, and it felt like my dick. If I could cum out of the ends of my fingers, I would have done so.
I groaned involuntarily at the strength of my new sexuality. It was overwhelming and powerful.
And I knew in an instant what I wanted to do next.
I would find 4 and 5, my companions, my tricksters, my comrades. I would find them and I would fuck them. Or they would fuck me, wasn’t that how it worked?
They would join me at the pinnacle of godhood, amplified and augmented beyond mere mortal bounds. I would pump them full and watch them grow. I would plug into the circuit and fuck and kiss them until muscle began to swell beneath their flawless skin and their bodies surpassed the limits of man.
It would be beautiful.
It would be perfect.
As I stood back up and the thought came into my head, the Overseer joined me. His reflection moved next to mine in the mirrored wall.
I was bigger, even, than he was. How was this possible? It should not be possible. I watched his eyes scan my reflection, and I wondered if it was pride I saw there—pride in his accomplishment and pride in me—or lust? Perhaps it was both. He immediately set his hand in that now-familiar grip on my ass cheek, moving his touch towards my hot, hungry hole. “How do you feel?” he asked.
With his hand on my butt and his magic fingers nearing my pucker, I was feeling very good, indeed. “Amazing,” I said, meaning both how I looked and how I felt.
It was the first time I had heard my voice since I had been matured. My God, how will anyone now withstand its power? The masculine timbre of it was absurd and irresistible. I wager I could make another man come just by saying “Hello” to him over a voice connection. I almost made myself come all over again. The depth and potency just within the one word I had uttered seemed to plug itself directly into my libido.
And if I couldn’t resist it, how could anyone else?
The Overseer seemed to recognize that power. He gripped my ass and moved his touch towards my hole, eager for me to renew our coupling. “What are you?”
My handsome brow wrinkled. “A man,” I replied. Fuck, that voice. I’d need to learn to temper its strength. I was trying to keep from speaking, afraid of its power, but that was absurd. I loved to hear the sound of my own voice. So what if it could now cause a man to spontaneously orgasm? I looked at myself in the mirror. “Just a man.”
“Are all men like you?”
I remembered that the Overseer had never been outside the Residence—had never even been with a regular human man before. Maybe he still had not, for I had been so radically altered by my earlier treatment that perhaps I was no longer ‘just a man’ anymore. “All men are different,” I answered.
His fingers found the core of me, and pushed inside. I allowed him to, and felt that tingling, throbbing, resonant sense of sex that he could transmit reverberating out like a plucked string inside me, or the rings of a splash caused by a pebble—in his case, a boulder—in still water. I wondered if I could do that, too?
I moved my hand onto his smooth, muscular buttock. That was all I did. He gasped and sighed and went up onto his toes. My lips curled into a smile on one side. I started to move my palm across the silken contour of his massive glute, sliding my fingertips towards his hole. He was warm—no, he was hot to my touch, and seemed to be heating up.
I watched his face in the mirror as my hand slid closer to its goal. He relaxed himself, allowing the deep valley between his cheeks to grow supple so that I could enter the viselike grip.
His heat increased. I touched the pucker. He swallowed hard and shuddered. I pushed one finger inside.
He came. His cock inflated and rose to its magnificence and I watched his entire massive and muscular form shake. All I had done was touch him there. Just with my finger.
He shot nearly as hard as I had done.
Soon, there would be no more mirror to look into.
“What…what are you?” he gasped.
Perhaps it was time to find out. “How does it work?” He was still shivering with orgasmic delight as my digit entered him, so I reluctantly pulled it free, but kept my hand on his hard, warm ass. “How do you do it?”
He opened his eyes and looked at our reflection, now masked under an explosion of his cum. “I am the Overseer.”
“Sorry, let me rephrase. How is it done?”
“You are prepared. Then we are joined. Then you are matured.”
He turned towards me, looked down my massive form and took my cock into his hand. Fuck, he felt good. “I take you into my mouth to prepare you.”
“Prepare me how?”
He…shrugged. It was an innately human gesture that made me smile. “I am the Overseer.” Evidently, that would have to suffice. “After you are adequately prepared, I am open for you and you enter me.” That much I remembered quite vividly. “We exchange, to complete the preparation and maturation may continue.”
“You give me your essence so I may know you.”
“Understand your Level and construct your maturation.”
His body was doing something, obviously, but what that was would be left for biologists or geneticists to define. “And when we kissed?”
He nodded. “We become fully joined, and you are matured.”
Was he more machine than man? Was I?
I certainly didn’t feel like a machine. This was meat on my bones, not servos and hydraulics. This was pure muscle clinging to bone beneath skin. Blood pumped through me. My cock rose because I felt horny, and not because internal mechanics lifted it up. Assuredly I had been amplified and augmented through an artificial process, but now I was certain—well, nearly certain—that I was just me. This was all me, whatever I was.
‘What are you?’ he asked. And now I had to ask it of myself: ‘What am I?’
He was the same as I. I was sure of it. Something made or contrived for a specific purpose, but still made up of the same stuff as me—or very nearly. Bone and muscle, flesh and blood.
It also made me intensely curious about them—the augmented. How were females matured? It made sense to me that it would take a male to mature another male. Maybe that was my prejudice, or my ignorance. Now I wondered about them all. Where did they come from, really? What were they? Or, more accurately, who were they?
I moved my fingers back towards his hole because I craved him. I wanted to watch the reaction I could cause merely with the touch of my fingers to his core. I moved into his crack—god, the smoothness of his skin was intoxicating—and rubbed against him with gentle circle.
He gasped and shut his eyes and his cock plumped and jumped, sending a fresh volley of cream at our joint reflections. I had to smile that I could do that to him, this perfectly beautiful and immensely powerful man, and it made me wonder what would happen if I unleashed myself on a room as 5 had done in the lounge. And would I even know how?
I would know how. Of course I would. Perhaps I wouldn’t even have to unleash anything. Perhaps my mere presence would be enough to send everyone in the room—every soul, man or woman—into mad sexual convulsions because I was there, and my cock was there, and my perfection.
What else could I do, now? How powerful was I? What limits did I have, if any?
Time to test them.
“I want to find my companions,” I explained.
He nodded. “To mature them.”
“Yes.” Jesus, my own voice was making me hard.
He smiled. “I would be honored to be matured by you.”
I was surprised, if not shocked. “Is that… is that possible?”
“You are greater than I am. You can promote me to my next level.”
“I didn’t think there was a next level.”
He looked into the mirror. I followed his gaze, and there I was again. God, or the perfect man. Huge. Beautiful. Powerful. Perfect. I looked at the two of us there, and I could see what he meant. He was gorgeous, certainly the best looking, biggest, most muscular and powerful man I had ever encountered. No one could refuse him anything, and he looked like he could take on the world and win. His cock was a tool of incredible size and beauty. His body was flawless and bulging with beautiful brawn. His face could make a blind man cum.
Then I looked at my own reflection.
“Oh,” I said.
A smile bloomed on his achingly handsome features. “Will you mature me.”
The prospect of having that monster cock in my ass was more than enough to convince me, but the idea of watching him become…even more! And that I was the one capable of driving him there. I nearly came again. “Of course.”
He took my hand and I followed him back to the bed where I had grown only minutes ago. My body pulsed with pure, unfiltered masculine energy. I could feel it building, as if in anticipation of what I was going to do. My body knew its power, and it was prepared to give it away most anxiously.
When he turned back towards me, his own colossal prick was already at full steam. A drizzle of precum was flowing from the eye and he looked ready to fuck the whole world. “What does it feel like?” I asked. “To change someone.”
His smile was orgasmic. “It is the ultimate pleasure.”
I enjoy being fucked, I’m not going to lie. I enjoy the sensation of being filled up with a man’s cock, and I enjoy the pleasure as he slams himself into me with force and desire, and I enjoy how my body reacts without any notion of pulling my brain into it. I like letting go, and I like control.
You know, don’t you, that the man on the bottom is always in control. Just like the woman is always in control. The man on top may think he’s steering the boat, but we’re controlling the ocean. We can pull him in and keep him there. We can caress and squeeze and feel every millimeter of the man inside us, and derive pleasure from every moment of the fuck. The man on top, thrusting and shoving and displaying his mastery—he’s only mastering himself, master of his own cock.
The man on the bottom is the master of the fuck.
We both understood this, he and I. We understood it when he was in control, and now we understood it that I was in control.
I lay on my back and he climbed on top and began to kiss me. His weight was fulsome and comfortable atop me. His body was hot and slick with sweat and hard with muscle. Our mouths devoured each other, the hunger for sex and power was insatiable inside of us both. We wanted to receive it, and I wanted to provide it. He wanted what I—and only I—could give him, and I wanted to watch him swell with power, feel his body expanding on top of me, growing thicker and harder and stronger because I had made it happen.
My cock was like a divining rod, practically sniffing at his hole like a dog and wanting inside. He was moving his ass towards my thick hard-on and I could feel him there, rubbing the head of my hungry prick, with sensational potency. My whole body was primed for this, but my cock was positively ravenous to enter him.
He smiled against my lips and withdrew from our kissing and met my eyes with his. “You want more,” he said, and he moved his hips around and rubbed his moist hole against the tip of my dick. “But it is my turn, now.”
“I always want more,” I admitted. “I always will.”
He moved up my body and positioned his monster at my lips. “You must know me,” he said, or instructed. I opened my mouth wide and swallowed him inside.
He came instantly, shoving a thick load of cream down my throat like a rocket. It tasted of him, and I knew him. That is the only explanation I can offer. In his seed was the essence of him. My body recognized him, and knew him, and knew what to do. I felt giddy and a bit lightheaded. Then a surging sense of…authority. Of command and domination. Like I had felt before, only magnified and condensed and centered on just one man. I groaned with bliss and sucked it all down.
My eyes met his again as I eagerly swallowed every drop. I pulled my lips reluctantly from his majestic swollen cock and grabbed it, caressing him with steady, spit-slicked strokes. He was magnificent and powerful.
And I would make him more so.
He asked, “Are you ready?”
Fuck yeah, I was ready! I collpased back onto the groaning bed and pulled my legs apart with supple finesse, effortlessly opening myself to him. He dropped down and moved his mouth to my asshole and began to lick and poke with his tongue against my hot hole. It felt like a pliable dick invading me, and I trembled with anticipation of his arrival.
He pleasured my ass for interminable minutes and I could feel my balls filling up with cum. My cock was so hard it felt like it might rip itself free from its metal shell, like a snake shedding its skin, and I was drenched in sweat. I reached down and stroked my red-hot poker and squirmed with delight under his masterful ass ministrations.
Fuck, I need him inside me! Fuck, I did!
Finally he rose up to his knees, his mighty cock rising between his legs and beating a steady throb against his cobblestone abs. It was drooling precum so copiously that it looked as if it was coated in syrup. I could see it flowing from the mouth of his monster and coursing down the thick inches of his meat.
He leaned over and maneuvered himself at my entrance. I could feel the increased heat of that hot tool as it approached. It was a furnace of sex, swollen with power and ready to explode. His lips met mine at the same instant that he pushed the slick head of his cock against me and I swallowed him whole, sucking him inside me.
I could feel it. That connection. I was the electrical socket and he was the plug. I would feed him my energy and he would pull it inside himself and start to change. A sense of completion, of fulfillment, of utter perfection overwhelmed me and without the knowledge of how to do it or the command of its power, I began to mature him.
His kisses grew suddenly passionate and hungry. I surrounded his body in my arms and legs as he fucked me. We were joined in some kind of circuit made of muscle and bone and skin, he plugged into me and me feeding him power.
So much power. Endless power. Overwhelming and irresistible.
I felt him begin to change within my muscular embrace. I felt his cock growing thicker and longer within me. I felt his body begin to expand. I felt his muscles bulging with power—the power that I had, and the power that I was giving to him.
As before, I found myself surrendering to a kind of mesmerizing daze. Time stopped, or it expanded beyond my understanding. It was all about the fuck, and the kiss, and his cock inside me, and my power feeding his maturation.
We could not have stopped it we had tried, but neither of us wanted that. This perfection was all we wanted. Him on top of me. Growing stronger. Growing bigger. Growing impossibly beautiful because he was with me, and this was what I wanted.
And I could make it happen.
I wanted to crawl fully inside of him. I wanted to be joined to him even more closely than I was. Were we one man as it happened? Was I making love to him or to myself? Was that his cock inside me, or mine inside of him? Whose body did I inhabit? Or was I now in both?
He was swelling with muscle. I could sense it as he forced my arms and legs apart. I could feel each of the heads of his muscles keenly as they pressed outward against his slick, warm flesh. I could feel his weight increase on my own masterful form, and I knew he was growing to be as large, as powerful, as beautiful as I was.
Minutes? Hours? Days? How long did I feed him my power? And I was not diminished an iota as he continued to inflate with brawn. Bands—cables of muscle swelling all over his body. And he was kissing and fucking me with equal passion and power.
Then the surge began to diminish. The ocean of power receded. The massive bolts of muscular energy that my body gave to his body grew smaller and smaller until we were again two men, wrapped in each others arms, engaged in a passionate exchange on top of one another.
He pulled his lips reluctantly from mine and I beheld the face of the god above me. I was breathless and spellbound by his beauty. I was enthralled by him. Bewitched by him. And then he smiled and I felt my cock swell between us and let loose with a cascade of hot cream so full and thick and sudden that I felt as if my soul had just exploded from the tip of my prick.
He tilted his head and released his own flood of hot cum inside of me, filling my guts with the gallons of powerful cream his balls could produce. It tingled and thrilled me as if he had jolted my heart with pure masculine power.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“My pleasure,” he said.
And then we started again.
“You must become the Overseer,” the perfect, huge, beautiful man told me.
“I thought you were the Overseer.”
“You have surpassed me. You have matured me. An Overseer cannot be matured.”
“Can’t we both be Overseers?”
He shook his head. “No. There is only one Overseer in the Residence.” My body was tingling, though I assumed it was post-sex bliss. We had fucked each other like no one else had ever been fucked. Everything felt good, but when he asked me, “Can you feel it?” I knew he meant something more.
We stood before the elevator doors, as they opened with a polite whoosh. I felt supremely alive, exuberantly so, as if my heart would swell out of my chest and my soul was alight and my cock was going to explode, hard as steel and thick as my arm. “I feel something.”
He motioned for me to precede him inside the small compartment—or so it seemed to me now. Before, the two of us had fit inside its generous proportions quite easily, but we had each grown so much larger and heavier that the small room shook as we boarded. adjusting its hydraulics to accommodate our bulk and muscle. “You are converting.”
“I am?” I looked down at myself, but all I saw were huge pecs with fat nips hanging off the edge of each wide globe of perfect brawn. My cock was humming, too, or throbbing with a constancy that made it feel as if I were being sucked, stroked and fucked at the same time.
He nodded as the room began to hum with movement. “You must claim your progeny. I am no longer the Overseer of this Residence. You will proclaim ascendency and mark your men when we emerge.”
“And how, exactly, will that…holy shit.” I whispered the last two words as I felt something inside me shift. I felt my balls not just tingle, but practically tremor and shake as if a live wire had been applied to them. My cock’s constant thrumming was growing even stronger, and a kind of electrical circuit seemed to emanate from it and run along my body into every muscle, along my limbs and to the tips of my fingers.
We both fell silent as we stood together, the ex-Overseer and I, inside the elevator that descended—or perhaps it ascended, for I was never quite sure where the Hearth was—from where we had been when he had changed me, and then I had changed him, into the superhuman sex machines we were now.
It was difficult to understand how big I was, or he was, because there had been no one else to compare ourselves with when we were alone together. I knew how much bigger he had been than I was before he matured me, and then how much bigger I had become than he had been before I changed him.
Now we were twin sons of the god of sex and power. Mammoth, gargantuan towers of muscle and cock, overwhelmed with strength and saturated with beauty. I wondered, idly, whether the room that we would emerge into once the elevator doors open would spontaneously erupt with fountains of hot cum exploding from every naked cock simply because of our new perfection. Were we emanating waves of that powerful sexuality that he had owned even before we had been matured, and now which I was sure we were both leaking like a fog that surrounded our magnificence?
The elevator hummed and throbbed as it moved, just like I did, but all I could feel was him. His presence. His power. His sex. He was standing beside my own immense form—our heads were now nearly touching the ceiling of the large compartment, and we could barely fit side by side inside its brushed metal walls, and perhaps our combined weight was also taxing the legal limits of the elevator’s capacity—and I could feel the heat of his power and sex pouring from him as if he had been doused in lava made from our own copious loads of creamy cum.
My intention was to find the two companions who had started my evolutionary path as a kind of gift, perhaps unknowing that I would become the being that I was now, something so vast in my power to alter another man and so strong and huge that no other man could compare with me—save for the man that stood beside me now, the man I had changed myself into the being that was almost too beautiful to behold with mortal eyes.
The humming fell in pitch as we approached the Residence. I expected to find it much unchanged since I had been here only a couple of hours ago; dozens of naked men of various states of perfected development engaging in every act of sex imaginable, brought to a screeching halt by the appearance of the two of us, now matured to a level of masculine power and beauty that had never even been dreamed of before.
My cock swelled and arched in anticipation. My balls drooped with the load of cum I started to produce, and swelled outward like balloons. My muscles burned and sang and bulged with the uncompromising level of strength they now possessed. I felt myself heat up, prepared and primed to begin maturing every single man I encountered, completing the physical circuit between us that would allow my body to change their body into a mirrored likeness of my own supreme perfection.
“We are here,” my companion announced. I nearly came hearing the sound of his voice. So much power. Too much?
The doors whispered open and revealed the room before us. Something had happened, for now all the men within the large space were standing and facing us as we stepped forward and stood before them.
They were naked and perfect. They were looking at us with a kind of reverence or expectation. Had they known we were coming? Was there some silent communication happening that I was unaware of? Had they known what and who was going to step forward from the elevator?
They were beautiful. So many men, in every shade of skin, with every color eye, and every color hair. Dark and light, smooth and furry, tall and short, lithe and muscular. And to a man, on every one of their gorgeous naked bodies, a cock standing at attention and throbbing with every beat of every heart.
Oddly, I envied them. They were seeing what I had seen in the mirror. They were seeing me, and I knew how beautiful I was. I felt a surge of something inside me, as if my heart were inflating or my soul was catching fire. Everything grew hot, and a feeling of sublime sexual gratification flooded through every cell of my giant frame.
He looked toward me. “You are becoming.”
Suddenly, my cock throbbed hard, nearly staggering me, and inflated to its full perfected magnificence. I shot a fat fountain of cream from my huge meaty prick before I had time to think, so overwhelmed I was with the sea of male perfection arrayed before me. I neither touched nor stroked myself, I simply exploded with a heavy dose of hot cum that flew from my cock as if I had experienced a sudden, uncontrollable orgasm.
My fountain of cream emerged in a thick rope that arched high above them and splattered on several of the men like a consecration, my unstoppable glorification of their overwhelming masculine grandeur. A blessing of sorts, unspoken but given freely and with love in the most basic of my abilities to convey.
What did I look like as I stood there before them, my body swollen with power, each huge muscle so keenly defined and perfectly developed, my monstrous cock suddenly surging and swelling and thrusting its load toward them of its own volition, as I looked out upon their beauty in utter invincible supremacy? I head myself cum, a wet sound as my wealth of cream was pumped from the mouth of my towering, majestic prick.
I came again, because I had to. So many men, so much beauty, so much power. I could cum at will and shower them with my approval and love in a very physical manifestation, giving them the essence of what I was, now.
They moaned and cooed in absolute pleasure. I came again and again, standing before them with my majestic and powerful cock swollen to its absolute glory, pumping fat gouts of rich, thick, creamy fundament, the consummate distillate of my male splendor.
I was a god, now. I was giving my seed—my essence—to all my children.
The Overseer said, “You have matured to your full potential.”
I continued to come. I smiled, because I knew instinctively what he meant. I watched my thick spray splatter and splash against the naked skin of the men before me. They licked it from themselves and each other like milk.
“This is your final maturation. Your gift to us. The men in your care and safekeeping. You pay tribute to us and distinguish us as your own, now. You supersede my term and become my Overseer.” Then he strode down the short flight of stairs and stood amongst them, and I turned towards him and slathered his broad, beautiful chest in a thick spray of my warm, thick cream.
I was the new Overseer. This was my announcement of superiority and ascendency. The purest sign of my dominance over all the men before me—including the old Overseer who I was replacing.
You are now mine, I was proclaiming—or, rather, my cock was doing so for me. Not possessions, but progeny, scions to my power, the fruit of my loins, the heirs to the kingdom I would bring to the world.
My body was responding to something I was not even aware of, some primal force that connected me to these beautiful men, some power that allowed me to show them how I loved them through a very physical act I could not control, and did not wish to.
I was in heaven. I came and came, pumping veritable gallons of cream from my swollen balls and showering the men before me in my ultimate masculine essence—and they welcomed me fully as their leader, moving forward to receive my blessing.
Then, finally, I saw amongst them my two companions, the men who brought me to this pinnacle of power, the two who welcomed me into their secret world and then promoted me to this—their god and king. I felt a renewed surge of love for them and I experienced a veritable explosion of cum. It blasted from my cock with surprising force and in such a copious gush that it is a wonder my cock did not split open from the onslaught.
“Come to me,” I said to them. They would be the first I would change, the first of hundreds, the first to rise to the ascendant heights of man that would surpass all who came before us.
They did so, mounting the steps as my cock continued in its seemingly inexorable release of thick, warm, powerful cream.
They were beautiful to me, so much more beautiful than before. Was I looking at them with new eyes? Had they changed, or was it just my own maturation that had changed how I saw them now? Was this what being the Overseer meant? I wanted to do everything for them, make them bigger, stronger, sexier, better. I wanted to fuck them and I wanted them to fuck me. We would share all that we were with each other, and emerge from that coupling even more perfect.
They came up the steps to me and I kissed them. I loved them. They were mine.
I would give them everything. And unleash them on the world.
As I marked each man with my seemingly boundless source of manly seed, they bowed their head to me and silently proclaimed me their new maker. I was neither master nor commander, but I would raise them up and mature them with my power. It was innate to me, now, part of who I was, what I had become. I knew that instinctively now that I had ascended to Overseer. My body was changed.
I was changed.
And I could change them as I had been changed.
Level nine? Level ten? What level was I now? Had I simply surpassed all former levels and become something beyond what had been designed, or even foreseen? What would happen to these men after I was done with them? How powerful would this Residence become?
I took the hands of these men in my own. We walked then down into the sea of naked perfection together and I allowed them to worship and adore me. Hands, mouths, kisses and caresses. A touch on my erect cock and I would deliver a fresh pump of hot cream for them to swallow. I was now head and shoulders above them all, save the old Overseer who was watching my passing with pride evident on his achingly handsome face.
I moved to the center of the throng and my body was honored for the god of sex and muscle that I had become. Mouths surrounded my prick, sucking and kissing and licking as I delivered freely of my bounty. Hands on the muscled mounds of my ass, squeezing, kneading, touching, rubbing. Fingers pressing in-between the steely mountains to seek the wet warmth of my hole, the source of maturation and the place where all around me longed to be. Connected to me, so that I could give them what they needed to grow, to mature, to become so much more than they already were.
This did not feel or seem alien to me, now. It was what I was, and here amongst them I was coming into my new position of ultimate power, the man who could and would gift any and all of them with power, with muscle, with cock. I was the Overseer. These were my children.
I ached to discover the secrets still held within the accidental creation of me.
I had never before or since felt the level of pure bliss that I did in those moments, surrounded by these men with the knowledge of what they wanted, and what I could do, and that it would happen again and again as I was with them and matured them. All the perfected levels of man around me, like presents waiting to be opened to see what was inside them.
They were beautiful, yes, but I would perfect them. I would take them into my arms, surround them with my power, allow them to plug into the source of ultimate and unsurpassed male perfection and as we kissed and fucked, together as one, I would feel them growing, feel their weight increase as muscle was packed onto their expanding frames and I watched their faces change, improve, refine until they were as I was, possessing godlike beauty that would make any other man who looked upon us explode with a sudden uncontrolled orgasmic spasm of pure desire and lust.
Just to look upon us.
“You will be matured,” I told 5, still near my glory, bathing in the perfection of my true self.
“Yes, Overseer,” he answered.
I looked at 4, speaking with my super sexualized voice, so powerful and dominating that it could cause roomfuls of men to spontaneously pump fat streams of cream inside their pants with a single word passed between my full, soft, sensuous lips. “You will be matured.”
“Yes, Overseer,” he answered, happily.
My cock wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop—until all the men were mine. 4 and 5 stood beside me as I completed my ascendency and acceptance of my new role and its responsibilities and powers. I was the Overseer of this Residence. These were my men, to mature, to love, to guide, to fuck.
I kissed my companions and my cock exploded again. I came like a fountain, showering cream upon the multitude until each had been marked and accepted my leadership. I was the supreme Alpha male, not because I was the biggest, the strongest, the most powerful or the most beautiful. I was all of those things, undeniably. None could compare with what I had become, what the Overseer had created in me, and what I had created in myself.
I was the Alpha male because I loved these men, and I would mature them to a level unsurpassed. We would fuck each other until all were beyond imagining in their own strength, beauty and perfection.
I rose from the tangle of naked masculine beauty, rising higher and higher, spreading the full awesome width of my upper body, pushing my arms to swollen glory and unfolding the wings of my lats like the wings of a Phoenix. “Come with me,” I told my companions.
They nodded agreement, pulling themselves from the writhing mass of sexually super-heated men and we three mounted the steps reentered the elevator to go back to the Overseer’s—my—rooms.
After the doors closed, and we stood there for a moment, 5 (always the more talkative of the two) asked, “What does it feel like?”
I looked down towards him. I was at least 50 centimeters taller than he was, now. My sense of size and power was magnified. I saw the multitude of emotions emanating from him like a rainbow, pulsating colors of excitement and love and lust that centered on me. “You’ll know soon enough,” I answered.
“You’re going to mature me?”
“As far as I can,” I answered. “An equal to me.”
“Is that possible?”
I shrugged, rubbing my thickly muscled shoulders against the cold metal walls. “We’ll find out together.” I put my hand behind his warm neck and kissed his hungry mouth. “And then you’ll mature him,” I said, softly, and looked at 4.
“Me?” the smaller man asked. I loved him so deeply. I had seen him change for me, and now I wanted to watch it happen again.
“Yes,” I said.
5 started to object. “But you are the Overseer. Only you….”
“I am the Overseer,” I said. “I make the rules.” I kissed him again. Hands were on my body. Hands touching my ass and my cock and my chest and my legs and my belly. Hands caressing and rubbing and grasping and petting. Hands everywhere. My body heated up again, preparing itself for what was to come, for its true purpose and my new, special power.
The doors opened and we could hardly escape the small compartment fast enough. Sex was all we could think about. Sex with each other, hard cocks and hot buttholes and lips and tongues everywhere we could put them. Sucking on each other, feeling our cocks swell and surge and pump out fat eruptions of sticky cum in thick fountains all over each other.
My cock swelled to magnificence again, throbbing with hard pulses and ready to explode. “Fuck me,” I told 5. “I will complete you.”
5 and I fell with a thud like an earthquake. Maybe the whole building shook. I was on my back and he was above me, a feral and hungry look in his eyes and a wicked smile on his soft, talented lips. His cock was drooling and pumped hard with hot blood, visibly throbbing with the beats of his animal heart. He took my legs and pulled me open and dipped his shaggy head down to eat my ass. He lapped and licked and spat on my hole, slicking up the chute that was already warm and wet and eager to be fucked by his monster.
I moaned in ecstatic bliss, built for this, now, and wanting nothing else but this forever. I felt myself prepared for him, this powerful body ready to change him, to recognize him and accept him and prepare him and then remake him into his newer, better, bigger self.
I would make him glorious with muscle. I would welcome him into the realm of the gods as he entered me and then I would kiss him and feel him jet his powerful cream inside me and I make him grow. I’d make his muscles swell and his cock lengthen and his whole body would grow heavier, taller, wider and impossibly beautiful.
He placed himself at the entry to my heavenly portal and plugged himself in. I came a huge sea of cream that splattered onto my belly and chest and neck and mouth. He slid himself onto my monumental body and kissed me, hard and full and eager for what was to come.
I shook as my power was released into him. I shook as my body opened itself to his and we became one and I began to mature him.
I knew him. I knew him already. When I had matured the old Overseer, he had to instruct me on the method. “You must know me,” he had said before pushing his gargantuan sex tool between my eager lips and pumping a thick, warm tide of his cream inside me. In that way, I knew him, or my body did. Something chemical or procedural, as if he were handing me the blueprints of who and what he was, so that I could manufacture what he would become.
But I already knew 5. I knew him quite intimately. I had changed but he had not, but now I—or, my body and its strange and magical properties—began to process the uniqueness of him, and how I as Overseer could mature him to the next level.
It was more than sex. Much more. Knowing this man, in this deeper and more profound sense, was like being this man. Inhabiting his soul, understanding him intimately, and then to change all that he was, to improve and enhance and…upgrade him.
He was a very different man from The Overseer. This man was made for sex and pleasure. I could feel that. In everything he did—every movement of his hips, every gesture of his hands, every look from his eyes, the way he presented himself, his choice of words and his observations—everything had a single aim, and it was sexual. Pure, unfiltered, unlimited, phenomenal sex.
And I could make him even sexier. Amp up his drive. Amp up his staying power. Amp up how he looked, how he thought, how he processed the observations he made of his partners and how he could use them to create an atmosphere and experience of perfect, absolute physical pleasure.
And stronger. I would make him vastly stronger. I would build his muscles, pump them with power, fill them with fibers and sinews and cables, and feel every millimeter of growth as I grew him. He would be stronger even than me. I could do that. And he would use it to his advantage.
Finally, the source of his sex. His cock. His balls. His ass. My god, what I could do there! But should I do it? Should I create the man that I knew I could? Should I give him everything—all that I was now able to deliver to him? Should I create that man? That perfect sexual being?
I would feel him increasing in size and strength and then, eyes open, kissing his mouth, embracing his naked glorious form, watch him grow more beautiful.
Because I willed it to be so.
I would recreate him as he fucked and kissed and loved me. I was his Overseer and his god. Making him over in my own image.
I felt something inside me, something urging me to stop. That this was the next level for the man I was maturing, the man fucking me, the man I was kissing and into whom I was delivering everything I could. Once connected, now, my body had its own goals and I was the conduit of its power, guiding my progeny according to his blueprint, escorting him along the path of his consummation.
But I did not stop. I did not want to. I grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. He fucked me with a sudden, hard push, shoving himself into the outlet of masculine power and sucking in all the juice that he could. His body welcomed my overwhelming capacity to change him utterly, and we kept going.
He grew quickly. I felt his weight increase on top of me as I grew him. His muscles swelled with size and strength. His cock inside me reached further and grew fatter, pumping his sudden abundance of seed into my body to accelerate and stimulate his development. His mouth was insatiable as he drilled into me like a machine, pumping my tight hole with his hard meat. We tingled and throbbed and ached together. I stretched him taller. I pulled him wider. I made him bigger so that I could pack on the muscle by the pound.
Again, there was a sensation to stop his maturation process, that I was going too far too fast, that this man was not ready for what I was delivering.
I didn’t heed the alarm. I wanted him bigger, stronger, more powerful. I wanted to continue to feel this feeling, the sensation of growth, his power swelling like a muscle pumped beyond its capacity, breaking through the limitations and making him bigger by the second.
I tightened my ass around his thickening tool and felt him pumping his hot, sticky love inside me. It fed me and my power and my desire to make him better than he was, to feel his perfect body swelling with brawn, feel his legs against mine, and his nipples—thicker, fatter, incredibly sensitive—rub against my own, ten times as sensitive as his.
His legs stretched along my own. I felt his arms swelling in my embrace. I held him closer, and he fucked me harder.
Massive, now. Larger even than he had been, and so much more to come. I released more power to his still-growing body and felt him expand by the inch, the muscle clinging to his tall frame now growing at an unbelievable pace. I could feel his weight on top of me and knew that he would be beautiful when I was finished with him. Perhaps more beautiful than me.
Stop. Stop, my body told me. I could almost hear it, some voice in my brain saying that my job was finished. But I would not heed its urging, and kept going.
This was only my second experience maturing another man, but it was vastly different in nature and participation, just as each man I had ever been with intimately was different in his own way. But maturation wasn’t sex. It was both more and less than that.
I had asked the Overseer what it would feel like, and he had called it the ultimate pleasure. I understood him, now, as I was changing this man in radical and miraculous ways, merely because he was with me and we were—together—engaged in his development.
I could feel what 5 felt. I could feel him growing. I could feel the growth not only of 5’s body and muscle and cock, but the swollen growth of his intrinsic sexual capabilities, the other things that he had and I did not. The…specializations his unique development had produced, because of what and who he was.
God, this man. This super sexual man. He kissed with fervor and desire. He fucked with requirement and demand and beautiful perfect expertise. Sex. Sex pulsated from him. Sex bathed his skin in heat and ran through his blood. Sex tingled along every hair follicle and sex colored his dark-eyed gaze.
Three levels stronger, now, and he was fucking me with equal parts love and lust. As much as he needed and wanted me, he needed and wanted sex. And those two things, in this process, in these minutes as I grew him stronger and stronger and stronger still, were married in an unending flow of pure, clean, unfiltered drive to completion.
I was sex. I was giving sex to him. More sex. Better sex. Perfect sex.
More, I felt him plead. He was inside me. He was me.
More. Give me more.
So that I may give you more.
Nearly as large as me, now. Nearly as powerful and perfect and beautiful. Taller and broader and thicker. Muscle on top of muscle. A cock to choke a horse. Balls that would swell with cream and pump it like a fountain from his marvel of a prick.
There was a scream inside me. Stop, it was saying. Too far. Turn back. Too much.
But there he was, too. Inside me. With me. Begging for more. Wanting it all. Showing me what he could be, what he could do, what he would become if I gave it all to him, everything I had, and everything he could take.
I kissed him hard. He fucked me harder.
I unleashed myself and he swelled with muscle.
His cock felt like an arm inside me, reaching all the way towards my heart and pumping the wet heat of love and lust inside me. I kissed him and he kissed me. The electricity of our pairing could light a city. I came between us, splattering a fat tide of cream that slicked our skin and heated our bodies.
We were one as I matured him, my power unsurpassed and unstoppable. The kiss and the fuck and now he was perfect.
Able to do what I could do, because I gave it to him.
I gave it all to him.
I created the perfect sexual being.
I opened my eyes.
His face made me swoon and cum and embrace him tighter.
“Hello,” he said. I came again. He was a god upon me. Would every man I change gain the same level of sublime male beauty? Could they? He looked like he looked, like he had looked before, but now…
I came again when he smiled. He kissed me and I came again. He was radiating pure sex. He bathed me in it. He pulled his massive meat from me inch by inch by inch, leaning up and allowing me to look upon the perfection of his form. Muscle, lean and hard and fat with power. Muscle everywhere. Acres of it bulging across his mighty frame.
He shifted his hips and pushed himself to the hilt back inside me. I groaned with pure pleasure and erupted a volcano of cum that shot towards the ceiling.
He looked…more beautiful than I remembered the Overseer being. Maybe because he had been designed to be. That was his job, to be a source of pleasure to those of us in the outside world, so now that beauty that had been his was also magnified, and he looked like the most beautiful man I had ever set eyes on—including myself.
Everything about him was still there. The confidence and forcefulness. That look of certainty in his storm-dark gaze. The sense that this was a MAN, in two-hundred kilometer high capital letters, with all his boldness and assuredness and fucking sexiness intact.
More than intact! Now amplified beyond belief!
What had he told me when we met those few hours ago? “Without limits. Without rules. Without permission.” There was that face that had made me swoon. Now attached to a body of immeasurable power and intense physical beauty that was literally unbelievable had I not been studying him with his cock buried inside my ass.
Was he larger than I was? Could that be possible? And why not? Hadn’t I already taken the notion of impossible and crushed it in my super-strong hand? Hadn’t I fucked impossible into submission and then remade it into a god?
Wasn’t I a god? Were there limits to my powers?
It was as I was contemplating my own unique abilities that the man still plugged into me decided to show off a few of his own.
How had I forgotten what he was already capable of? The kiss at my front door that made me cum? Our visit to the lounge where his mere presence set off an orgasmic explosion? Five levels ago in his maturation, the man had already been able to manipulate other men by a touch, or a gesture, or some other secret, wonderful method that his body could produce.
A wave of intoxicating sexual bliss emanated outward from his cock and enveloped me utterly. He was smiling as he slowly fucked me and released his innate amplified powers into me.
My god. My god. I had never felt anything that even approached this sensation of pure pleasure. Of course this was what he was, now. The Overseer was not built to be a source of sexual pleasure for the ordinary men of the world, but this man was. This man was literally designed to be a sex god, a being of pure and unlimited bliss with capabilities that were already far and above what any ordinary man could do.
And now he was…so much more.
The Overseer was a supercharged power center that could manipulate what was already present and lift it to a higher level. This is what I had done, never thinking of the actual consequences—what that might mean when delivered to a man who had already been powerful enough to make a man cum with a kiss.
Now he was smiling as he slowly fucked me and illustrated in extraordinary and unyielding detail the degree of his new sexual powers. It felt like…like…words fail to describe the magnitude of undiluted physical eroticism I began to experience because he wanted to show me the extent of himself, and what I had given him.
I swooned and squirmed and growled in absolute bliss. My body was inundated from head to toe and everywhere, everywhere in-between with a passionate and unadulterated charge of some new kind of sexual power, one that made every millimeter of my flesh, every follicle of hair, every cell of my formidable body feel total and unlimited pleasure.
He was glowing like a sun when I looked at him. He was smiling as he fucked me and released his sexual potential, amplified and intensified by 1,000 percent. My cock exploded and showered me in my own warm cream.
He leaned down as he fucked me with slow, luxurious strokes and placed his soft warm lips to mine and kissed me with unabashed passion. It was different this time, because he was kissing me, and not kissing the Overseer to complete the circuit of maturation. It was a kiss of love, absolute and unashamed, and he showered me in his sexual power.
I did not want to feel the emptiness that he would leave behind in me once we separated, but he pulled the fat cock we had created for him together out of my steaming hole and stood before me, rising higher and higher, and already comfortable and too fucking sexy in his new skin.
“You do nice work,” he said. Still the sarcastic fuck I had grown to love. His leer, the one that said ‘I’m a sweetheart of a guy’ and ‘I am going to fuck the living shit out of you’ at the same time wound across his new lips. I came again. He was looking down at himself, at his new arms bulging with muscle, at his new chest as large as a house, at his throbbing cock that rose to attention—so high it nearly buried its cum-lacquered helmet between his pecs.
“Did you like that?” he asked me. I could hardly speak, so I simply nodded. A renewed sensation of pure sexual gratification ace from him. “Good. Because that was only a taste of what I can do now.”
He looked at me and winked. I came again. Sexy fucker. Sexy fucking fucker that he was. He leaned over me, his rock-hard cock still moving in and out of my very happy hole, and said, “I think a proper thank you is in order.”
His hands were on my belly and his hips kept pistoning his mammoth and marvelous monster in and out. I could feel him squirting thick pumps of cream inside me. He moved his hands across the rippled masses of muscles lining my stomach and upwards towards the two heavy globes of power mounted on my chest. He paused to flick my nipples with his thumbs, timing it perfectly with a sudden, hard fuck that buried his prick to the base inside me and I gasped and groaned.
These caresses and thrusts and playful teasing were clearly different in nature than when we were solely engaged in the process of making him bigger, and I was reminded again of what he was.
Made for sex. Literally created for it. This was what he did best. This was all he wanted to do. And he was very, very good at it.
His handsome face bent towards mine. His eyes burned with something beyond need or lust or desire, something deeper and larger and uncontrollable. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, softly. “Are you ready for all of me?”
My mouth was open but no words would come. I was shaking, now, with anticipation and craving. The sensuality of the man was coming through in thick waves. Heat overwhelmed me. I was the Overseer. No man was more powerful than I.
He opened his mouth and pressed his lips to mine. He pushed himself—every thick centimeter of his new gargantuan dick—inside me to the balls. His tongue began a wrestling match for domination.
He unleashed himself on me.
It flooded into me. Everything he had, every drop of sexual power, and I was overcome by him. I did not know what else was happening in the room, or even if the room was still there. It was only he and I, now, drowning in the overwhelming sensation of his sensuality and masculine energy.
Did I explode with cum? It’s highly likely something exploded. I may have blacked out—think on that a moment. I was the most powerful being on the planet. Certainly the most powerful, the strongest, the most beautiful and perfect man ever created and I was overwhelmed by him.
This was something beyond sex. Something only gods could imagine and consummate. Something…heavenly. I could not think, at the time. My brain wasn’t capable of overcoming the sensations of pure sexual ecstasy that the man above me was suddenly delivering in perfect, unfiltered glory. All I could do was feel that absolute sensation of flawless, undiluted, all-encompassing sex inundating my superior body.
I cannot relate how long we were together in that perfect consciousness of ideal physical perfection. I could feel everything, every sensation of his body against mine, the feeling of his majestic cock fucking me, his hands caressing and kneading my muscles, his silken, soft, warm skin against mine, the scent of him inside my head and spreading itself all over me like some perfume of sex, and the sight of his handsome face between perfect kisses, smiling with confidence and control, wanting only to provide this overwhelming sense of pleasure to me, and uplift me to the pinnacle of perfect physical bliss.
That sensation slowly ebbed as our lovemaking came to an end. Even this was done with consummate skill, so I wasn’t left feeling alone or separate. He withdrew that sensation of supersex from our coupling before ending our physical relationship.
He loved me utterly. As I loved him.
He lifted himself from my body, coated in sweat and looking as if he were made of metal. I felt him pulling himself free of my ass and it felt as if he owned a meter-long prick that had filled me up entirely. Once he had withdrawn himself, I looked at his cock and realized that it was not a meter long—but it wasn’t far short.
I mean, fuck, how was he supposed to operate with a tool that large? It was…absurd. Certainly it seemed impractical to me. I had never seen a cock so large, and I wondered that it was able to enter me at all.
I had also never encountered a cock that seemed, to my eye, so perfect. Certainly it was massive, preposterous even, but it was also easily the most attractive prick and the purest sense of masculine power that I had ever seen. It was something to honor, to praise, to exalt and to worship. It was god’s prick.
He grinned at my expression and ran his grip up the slick, wet surface of his monster, and I saw that its girth was at least as amazing and shocking as its length. His hand made a wet, slurping noise as it travelled the length of his cock and then he rubbed the head with the palm of his hand. It was as large as a plum.
He lifted his hand to his mouth and licked the remnants of our extended fuck off his palm and fingers, allowing a deep rumbling moan of pleasure from his mammoth chest.
Fuck, this man loved sex.
He then did something that was both ludicrous and completely understandable. He lowered his mouth towards the tip of his majestic cock, holding its massive circumference in one hand as his other teased and plucked at one of his fat nipples and he reverently kissed himself, pushing his warm lips to the spongey head and licking the eye of some of its copious pre-cum, pulling it inside his mouth and swallowing it down.
“How do you feel?” I managed to ask him. My voice was gruff and drained of power after the onslaught of sex he had unleashed upon me. I was left feeling both drained and energized. And I wanted more.
“Like I want to fuck the entire planet.” He looked like he could do exactly that, stroking his awesome prick with a head-spinning self-confidence as it continued to drool a steady stream of warm honey, highly perfumed with an intensely masculine musk.
I smiled, because I knew what he meant. “Start with him,” I said, nodding at 4.
The third among us was dumbstruck. At some point during the maturation he had evidently exploded with cum, because his body was smeared with shiny drops and long strings of white cream and he was holding his impressive joint in his right hand, and a gurgle of cum was still slowly emerging from the eye. His eyes looked slightly glazed, but then he smiled and whispered, very quietly, “That was awesome.”
I laughed because I had to. It was awesome, to be sure, but the understatement was hilarious.
I got up and realized that 5—or, 10, now (I really would need to name these two) was as tall as I was. Perhaps I had reached some upper limit, or perhaps the human body could not be matured farther than this. At least…not yet. In size and shape and perfection of our developed bodies, we were very close in measurement, at least by my eye. I was sure that either one of us was beautiful enough to cause havoc wherever we went, but both of us together would be too much for anyone to take.
4 was stunned, but not so stunned that he did not immediately offer himself to 10 and say, “You must know me.” The same thing The Overseer had said to me. The ceremony, I supposed, that they all needed to perform.
10 nodded solemnly and dropped to his knees. He reached forward and took hold of 4’s erect prick with a kind of reverence or love, and then he opened his mouth and sucked the other man inside.
I watched 4’s eyes roll up in his head and I realized he had cum, probably exploding with enough force to rupture any condom put to the test. My god, I was so much larger than him, now, and so was 10. Watching the enormous man service the smaller man made me grow instantly horny. Whomever had designed this method of maturation must assuredly have fucking loved watching two men together.
I pondered it, now, as my companions prepared each other. I could not wait to watch 4 inflate with muscle and become another beautiful godling, swollen with power and saturated with sex. But I admired this process, now, having been on both ends of it.
Receiving your maturation by fucking the Overseer. At first that seemed backwards to me. Shouldn’t I be on the receiving end? Shouldn’t I be sucking his cock? Or feeling his mammoth appendage shoving itself into me to deliver the source of his power?
Now having been an Overseer, and maturing two men, I could see the perfection of the act. As the source of power, I would need to deliver it. Not with the copious flow of my seed, but by allowing another inside me, becoming one with them, and completing the circuit with the most loving of all gestures—the kiss.
It was fucking perfect.
10 gulped down 4’s copious load with happy guzzling sounds. He grabbed on and sucked that prick for every drop, perhaps determined to be able to give everything and then some back. His hands kneaded the muscular flesh of 4’s lovely ass, and his large fingers teased and nuzzled the smaller man’s hole with an eager, obvious hunger.
He sucked 4’s cock for a good five minutes, or so it seemed, before releasing the other man’s erection from his beautiful mouth, rising to his full height and capturing 4 into his strong, firm arms, cradling him with pure and undisguised love.
“I will mature you,” he said softly. His cock has managed at last to relax, to some extent, and was now simply a thick, lengthy snake projected from his loins. It remained an amazing illustration of his masculine perfection, with a lovely long neck and a fat, plump head cowled in a soft collar of skin with its wet mouth peaking from the foreskin.
He carried 4 into my bedroom and they lay down together on the huge bed. 10 was incredibly massive from every angle, and looked even larger next to the small man in his arms. They looked into each others’ eyes and kissed softly, and then 10 said, “Fuck me,” and 4 smiled with utter bliss.
10 moved onto his back, grabbed his own ankles and spread himself open. 4 moved into place, positioning his hard cock at the entrance to heaven, where he would connect with the pure source of masculine power and begin to swell with sex and muscle.
As I stood beside the bed watching them, I realized that this was my first experience witnessing the maturation process. Certainly I had been matured. I had matured others, now. I had even seen 4 spontaneously upgrade in my apartment earlier, without the aid of an Overseer’s magical ass.
But I had not been afforded this luxury—to watch as one godlike man make his lover grow into the perfect vision of superhuman masculine perfection.
4 caressed the muscled ass before him. He circled the entry with the drooling tip of his swollen majesty, teasing his companion before entering the heavenly gates. The room was filled up with the scent of 10. It bathed us both in his cloud of perfect sex, and he moaned a deep growl of need. He had to have 4’s cock inside him.
I watched 10’s masterful prick inflate to its ultimate extents, again, with remarkable speed. It swelled along his muscles, growing veins and incredible thickness, the helmet blooming like a rosebud as it emerged from the heavy cowl of his ample foreskin, until it was slowly throbbing and bobbing at the lower edge of his pectoral globes, steadily drooling clear honey over his silky skin and glazing his dark nipples like melting chocolate.
It was a clear and obvious physical manifestation of the internal heat of his need and desire. He was anxious to plump his companion to the same massive proportions of his glorious and perfect cock, and he was fully prepared and capable of doing just that.
I wondered, idly, what 4 would become? Another man like 10? A super-sexual being with capabilities for pleasure that could make a sane man crazy? Something different? Something better? I thought about him, how we had met in that dark lounge, his sense of innocence and wonder when I introduced him to using free weights, his pure pleasure when he stood outside in the constant rain and felt the sensual bliss of the warm water on his naked skin.
How he had changed on his own. Without an Overseer.
And what did that mean?
I was stroking myself as I watched these two begin the process. It was fantastically sexual and mind-bendingly amazing. Men could do this, now. This was the world I was living in. Pure tingles of sexual bliss erupted along every millimeter of my monster as I slowly caressed its perfection.
It was time.
4 grabbed hold of 10’s ankles, staring down at the tight pucker of his hole as he moved his hips and pressed the hot head of his dick against the huge man’s entrance, knocking at his backdoor. The room was saturated in sex, overheated with it, sweating sex from its walls. 10 must have been sending out an invisible fog of his potent masculine scent, because everything smelled of that powerfully sensual perfume. Whether he was doing it because he could or because he had to given the hyper-amplified state of his massive libido didn’t actually matter. I wondered if I would always smell him, now, whenever I was here in these quarters. Maybe the entire complex smelled of his power by now.
I didn’t actually care, because it smelled so raw and perfect. It made my dick hard—which, in itself, was amazing given its steely state to begin with. Fuck, that man was powerful!
As I was looking at him positioned in this way, with his legs spread wide and his tight pink hole poised to receive the thick throbbing cock of the man he was about to mature, I decided on my own name for him: Eros. It was obvious, wasn’t it? Here was the god of passion and desire made manifest. I may have been Zeus, if I had to choose, but this man’s power ran in a fairly singular direction.
Eros, then. The god of fucking.
I was looking at the face of Eros when 4 pushed himself inside. Eros came immediately, a fat gush of cum that emerged like a fountain and splattered across his massive, furry chest in pearls and rivers, squirting from his gigantic phallus like cream from a hose. I looked up and 4 was smiling, evidently happy that his entrance had resulted in the desired effect.
4 looked at me and winked. The man winked! It seemed as if he was saying to me, ‘See? He may be an Overseer, but I’m in charge now. I can make him cum. I can make him squirm and swoon and groan with pleasure. He may be huge, and powerful…but I’m in charge now.’
I gulped in surprise and anticipation. It matched his playful nature, but it was shocking to see this smaller—albeit beautiful and powerful—man taking charge of the situation. He was supremely confident. His stature, his poise, his attitude—everything about 4 was now shifted into some other man, a man I had first met so many long hours ago, a man who’d walked into the dark bar to meet me.
Here he was again. I had forgotten about him.
4 had always been so eager to please. My opinion about these manufactured men had changed drastically since our introduction, when I was both intrigued and suspicious of them. Now I was part of their world, even though I understood it only a little. I still wasn’t sure where they all came from. Had they been created from unaugmented men like me? Had they been grown in petri dishes or bred in cloning pods? Were they the result of a man and a woman getting together, egg and sperm, or simply spliced together from a library of perfect genetic samples and grown in nutrient baths?
How did I fit in to all of this? Had these two cooked up a plan when they had been alone in my bedroom, or was this merely accident and chance, some collision of fates that had met within me to create…what?
My head was swimming. Maybe it was the thick male perfume making me dizzy. Maybe it was the sight of 4 pushing his cock inside the perfect ass of Eros and grinning like some naughty schoolboy who’d been caught where he should not be. That side of his character, and the fact that he looked so at ease and was clearly enjoying fucking the huge stud at his mercy was a huge turn-on for me. And I remembered how attracted I had been to him before Eros showed up.
He did, at that moment, look unusually young. But hadn’t that always been his demeanor, in dramatic counterpoint to 5’s.. erm, Eros’s supreme confidence bordering on arrogance? 4 was always the follower, doing as I instructed, happy to be of whatever use I put him to, something of a slave to my whims.
Looking at him now, watching him piston his hips and roughly ass fuck the huge sexual god streaming cream all over his own chest, I was struck not by the similarities between these two perfected specimens but by their differences.
4 had yet to bend himself down to complete the circuit. He was evidently enjoying this stage too much, even releasing Eros’s ankles and folding his hands behind his head as he continued to firmly and deeply fuck the god’s ass laid out before him.
Eros did not seem to mind. His colossal cock continued to spew copious floods of cum that lacquered and creamed his skin. He was bathing in a stream of his own production, pumping fat fountains that squirted in wild arcs all over him, the bed, the wall, even the ceiling.
4 was a mystery to me. How had he changed like that, when it was clear to me now that an Overseer was usually necessary?
I was pondering the question when my attention was drawn back to the impossible scene happening before me, because 4 was fucking Eros’s ass as he crawled atop him, and then, mounted on the huge man’s muscular body, he was presenting his own ass to me and I watched him wink, again, and nod to me as an indication of what he wanted from me.
It seemed doubly impossible! Did he truly wish me to penetrate him as he was penetrating Eros? What would happen if he were to be fucked by an Overseer while fucking an Overseer?
That ass was too tempting to resist. What with the tangy, earthy, irresistible scent of Eros’s perfume of sex saturating the room and my newly enhanced sense, my own rock-hard cock practically vibrating with need, the sight of 4’s gorgeous and inviting ass and Eros’s deep, earth-shaking groans of intense physical bliss—how could I refuse?
I doubted, for a moment, that my new and enormous manhood would be able to fit. I was now so large, so…prodigiously proportioned, that the idea of something as small and tight as 4’s beautiful pucker—and I of course had very personal knowledge of his tightness and how much I wanted to be back inside of him—being able to accommodate my substantial girth, with its impenetrable hardness and extraordinary length, was daunting to say the least. Looking at his handsome face, though, I saw confidence and even requirement on his features. He was fucking Eros and waiting to consummate his maturation to the pinnacle of godhood until I had joined his journey.
There was something inside me screaming to stop. That this should not be. Some internal alarm warning me that what I was thinking of doing, what he wanted me to do to him, was not allowed and that I would be breaking every law, natural and unnatural, if I did this.
Of course, that only made me desire it more.
Where were we going, the three of us? I was already at the pinnacle of male perfection. Eros, perhaps, had surpassed me with his innate sexual abilities that extended far beyond my mere physical attributes. Now 4 would join us, a blank canvas of sorts, but he had already shown some fantastic potential by maturing on his own without any help earlier this evening. I had seen him do it, watched him grow larger and more beautiful in my bedroom without any Overseers within miles.
What would happen to him, now? And what, if anything, would happen to me?
I was dizzy with the idea of it, of surpassing the point where we were and going even farther along this road of man-made masculine refinement. The combination of Eros’s sexual power and my heightened ability to mature these men and 4’s natural capability to make himself mature—what would happen when we were all three engaged in some joint sexual adventure, determined to push ourselves to even grander heights?
I grabbed myself in my hands, gripping the hard heat of my masterful, magical, transforming cock, feeling myself throbbing with desire and anticipation, and positioned the drooling tip of my monster at his inviting back door. I rubbed myself against his hole as he pistoned himself in and out of Eros’s portal of perfection and felt him rubbing his heat and hunger back against me. Thin silvery threads of precum extended from me to him like conduits of power made visible as we moved together and apart, and I was quickly pumping a thick flow of my warm, sweet honey in preparation for entering his tight, warm chute.
My body was screaming to stop. It was almost physical, making me hesitate to do the thing I proposed, to fuck him as he fucked, to enter him as he started to change, to alter, to improve his body and his abilities and his desires and his masculine power all soon to be driven upwards to extents that none of us—indeed, no one before us—had ever conceived of.
Eros groaned and fountained ropes of cream.
4 moaned and leaned down, to touch his soft lips to Eros’s gasping mouth, completing the circuit of maturation.
I thrust my hips forward and shoved myself inside him.
I was shaken, physically, by the connection. I felt a sort of pain mingling with pleasure, as if my physical self was at war with my desires. Did my body try to prevent what I intended? Was this shock of pain—this radiating heat and hard palpitations and the sudden screaming sensitivity that wrapped its teeth around my gargantuan manhood—was this all an alarm built-in to the system?
Stop. Don’t. Wait. Can’t.
But the pleasure was as intense as the pain. The moment—the second—we connected, I was flooded with the most pure and overwhelming sense of bliss that I had yet encountered. Whether that was the sensation of the three of us combined into some new sexual consciousness or merely my own highly driven anticipation and excitement made manifest, I did not know. But it overwhelmed the alarming pain and pushed it aside.
I came instantly. Gallons of cream escaped my balls as if 4 had grab hold of them and squeezed. I feel an intense heat that bathes my entire huge frame. I am thrust inside a wet sexual furnace of power, and I can feel the man I am fucking instantly growing two sizes larger.
He is not a Level 5, he is immediately a 6. I look down and his back is expanding with muscle. I watch his shoulders stretch wider and thick bulges of meat swell upwards under his skin. He grinds himself against me and we quickly fall into a rhythm as he simultaneously fucks and gets fucked. Two Level 10 Overseers joined together to make this man over into something brand new.
He is being matured at twice the speed, and with twice the power, receiving an overload of whatever it is we two can deliver to these men in such overwhelming abundance, turning the knob that controls his strength, his size, his sexuality and his perfection past the red line and watching what happens.
He swells again. Massive development occurs everywhere on him simultaneously. The muscle practically jumps through his skin.
We are being coated in the thick warm wetness of Eros’s continuous output. We are bathed in his power in the most physical manner possible. His tremendous cock, the source of all male power and strength, is releasing fountains of cum that splatter and splash against the three of us, sticky sweet and scented strongly of the man’s intense masculine musk.
Level 8. He is skipping levels and I watch his body snap through sizes, not swelling in a continuous pattern of growth but suddenly and miraculously exploding with muscle. His ass is enveloping my hugeness and sucking me inside its heavenly mouth. I fuck him soundly, grabbing his hips and pushing inside, releasing now a near-constant flood of cream and realizing that I am changing him just as Eros is also doing so.
This should not be. I know that. Maturation is not me pumping into him. This should not be.
Two Overseers in a dance of ultimate perfect masculine power, flooding the man between us with every drop of whatever we can give him.
Level 10. Already. Only moments seem to have passed, but I realize he is now our equal, as large and as beautiful and as undeniable as we are. Another god, made in our likeness.
He is broad and thick and swollen with muscle. He is made of muscle. He is pure power and I feel him feeding me back what I am giving him. I feel it surround and saturate and penetrate my huge cock, and then it is traveling up its thick, heavy inches into my body and within this daisy-chain of perfect fucking, something new is happening.
I am going even higher. He is maturing me.
He is my Overseer.
We are struggling, now. The next level seems unattainable. Are we all that we can be, all that any man can ever hope to be? Are we at the ultimate level of strength and size, or power and beauty, of sexuality and sensuality?
Level Eleven. Is such a thing even possible? Can I become more than I already am? And even as I ask this impossible question, I am being given the answer.
My chest is swelling again. Larger even than before. I can see it growing. I can see each powerful globe of muscle becoming impregnated with more power and strength. I feel it happening. I feel myself growing. I feel my muscles sing and burn and throb as he—as he and Eros and I—as we lift each other higher, yet.
Eros is also growing. His power grows. His scent and his sex and his beauty. I look past the wide, swelling back of the man who was 4 and I can see Eros’s face and the realization of what is happening, the same realization I am experiencing in the same way. He feels himself growing. He feels his cock lengthening and his muscles swelling and the massive sexual power that his body owns and controls with such perfect finesse is growing even stronger. His eyes meet mine and I can see in them the same sense of power that I am feeling. What is he becoming? What can he do? How will he be controlled?
We push. We struggle. We surge. God, the power! The overwhelming, majestic, godlike power coursing through me! My muscles bulge against my flawless skin. I pour gasoline on the fire of my libido. I pump myself inside the welcoming, hungry hole of the handsome man beneath me as he does the same to man beneath him.
Pushing the boulder up the hill of ultimate masculine perfection.
Closer and closer.
Impossible. It is not possible, what is occurring. But it continues to manifest and I can feel it, I can see it, I can sense it.
4 swells again. Bigger. The muscle inflates, his ass is heavenly, a physical portal to heaven itself. I feel his sexuality intensify, feel my sexuality rise, feel us reach toward a new pinnacle of male perfection that will burn out the eyes of any who look upon us.
And still going. The three of us, pumping each other to heights that will propel us beyond human limits of beauty and power.
Something else begins to grow inside me. Something beyond the capabilities I already possess. A growing realization. A dawning awareness. Subtle, at first, but strong enough that I am distracted by it, even in the midst of fuck and the growth and the swelling power that the three of us are sharing.
It is like some extra sensory perception. Or, more precisely, an extra sensual perception, or even extra sexual perception, and I understand in its birth that I am receiving the power of Eros through our mutual experience.
It is the power of sex. The power he manifests on demand, and in quantities and qualities so far beyond what I have previously experienced that it extends beyond mere sex and into some other realm of pure bliss and complete fulfillment.
If sex is merely the physical joining of people toward a mutual gratification, what Eros has and what I am starting to manifest cannot be called sex. It is so much more than that, and it is radiating from me in waves, I am saturated with its power and its capabilities to understand others and to fulfill others and to sustain the experience and uplift it to levels that might drive ordinary men mad.
There are two men in the room with me. My understanding of this fact extends, now, beyond what my five senses can comprehend.
Yes, I can see them, feel them, hear them, touch them, even taste them. But as this new power—this new sense—grows within me, I begin to understand them at another, deeper level. More than that, this sense of them is targeted at their core of pleasure.
I begin to know them. I am inside them, and with them, sharing them. These are not mere models of men, or some odd and different species. These are men like I am a man. These are feeling, sensitive, sensual men. Powerful, surely, and stronger and more confident than other men—but men.
The veil of their birth is being lifted. They are not aliens or machines or lab rats designed for the purpose they have been put to. They are men like I am! They are men with their own drives and desires, though they may not even know they have them.
Another realization dawns, and I understand my role. I understand why they are with me. I understand how this has come to pass, and my part in all of it.
My brain—my mind—swirls and dives and swings wildly about as my understanding of us shifts abruptly and dynamically.
And even as I find this realization inside me, as I move into a higher sense of the men with me and understand them in ways I have rarely even understood myself, as the true power of Eros opens within me and expands my five senses to six, we push together for the next level.
We reach. We struggle. We climb. We fuck. The next level. So close now. And then….
Like a detonation. Like an explosion. God, the sensation of it. The pure, unfiltered masculine energy coursing through our maturation, Eros and 4 and I, connected in this consummate achievement of male dominance and power.
My muscles are throbbing. Can they even contain such glorious strength? How strong am I, now? What is beyond my grasp, or my abilities, or my dreams? Looking down at my naked form, I can see its perfection coalesce and crystalize. My body’s massive development begins to refine its new extents. I am beyond huge, so far beyond what any man has been before me.
My cock is buried inside another man like me, and I watch his body change, as well. I watch whatever miraculous properties we have been given go to work to improve him even more. Alien, technological, manufactured things that are intrinsically part of the three of us, augmenting and uplifting us.
It is their goal, their sole occupation, these things, whatever they are, to continually improve us. They have a duty, and that is to answer our call when we are ready to move up the ladder, taking another two rungs of perfection on our journey to godhood.
They examine what we are and eliminate the detritus. They pump up our strength. They improve what we already have, make us bigger, more powerful….
His muscles are bulging against his beautiful skin. I watch them growing, but even more, I watch them perfecting. Each a flawless example of brawn, the muscle growing into a perfect instrument for which it was designed. Lifting the arm. Bending the elbow. Lifting a truck. Bending a girder. Supporting the world.
We approach the next pinnacle. Our new bodies are honed and carved and sculpted. Our muscles are strengthened, tightened, empowered from within. Our minds are capable of providing pleasure in a million different ways, using all the tools at our disposal. A new world is opening up for us, and we are its gods.
We are finished, now. The three of us larger, again, and more beautiful. Perfect men, gifted with tools and power and strength beyond imagining. And now I have the power of Eros, as well. The power of pure sexual bliss, given freely and as I wish it, by walking into a room and bringing everyone in it to an immediate orgasmic explosion.
“Rise,” I say. My voice is power. Command. Authority.
4 wiggles his ass like a happy dog. I extract my Level Twelve cock from his Level Twelve ass and he does the same to Eros, and I watch the product of what I can do climb off his other maker and turn around to face me.
I behold the face of a god. It is 4—clearly needs a new name, I think—and I can see everything in his features I fell for the first time I saw him. Everything that was beautiful then, even more beautiful now.
4. Pure happiness. Pure love. Pure sex. I name him Anteros, the brother of Eros. The god of love returned.
And I am now Zeus, father of gods. We are the Erotes of myth, made real and flesh by the power of science and our own overwhelming strength.
He smiles as he looks at me. “How do you feel?” he asks. His powerful, sexually saturated voice strikes my massive chest and makes my ponderous cock throb. He is still thinking only of me. He is still mine. We are still together.
“Fucking amazing,” I answer, because I do. The word can’t even attain the level of amazing that I feel. If I look anything like he looks, I will make the mirrors in the next room shatter.
Then Eros is standing with us. Three gods. Three prefect beings. Amplified and augmented and risen to a level never planned for, or dreamt of, or imagined. “Hey,” he says, reaching forward to twist my heavy nipple. His touch is accompanied by his new echelon of sexuality. It is shocking and all-encompassing and makes me spontaneously cream, shooting a thick, hard jet of rich, hot cream that strikes the ceiling and fucking goes straight through it.
So much power.
Our skin is lacquered in the sticky cream of Eros’s heavy balls. His scent is strong in the room, but mingling now with the sexual perfume of Anteros and Zeus. Brothers, gods, men.
“I know you,” I tell him. He nods, because he knows me, and he understands. I look at Anteros, who nods as well. “I know you,” I tell him.
“I know you,” he answers back, and a flood of pure happiness extends outward from him like a palpable wave and inundates me with his command. He does not wish to control himself, and the strength of that outpouring towards me is staggering.
“This was your plan,” I stated, knowing the truth of it now.
“Yes,” Eros answered.
“You needed me,” I said.
“You knew when he changed in my home, that I was the man you needed.”
Eros smiled. “We suspected you to be the key.”
“The key to unlock your potential and eliminate your limitations.”
“The man who would bring you here.”
Eros said, “To ultimate perfection.”
“Together,” Anteros added, looking at me with love. “We could only achieve this together.”
I looked at both them and knew them. They knew me. We had passed beyond mere human limitations. We were now much, much more. “What can we do now?” I ask, having some difficulty realizing the extent of my—of our—powers and abilities. What are we now?
I look at them and try to drink in the consummate and overwhelming beauty we possess. I wonder how it is possible that my own body and face could approach the same level of masculine perfection that each of them displays. I feel their power—sexual, sensual, muscular—radiating from them in a palpable and quite pleasurable throbbing. They are merely standing there, but I have trouble containing my overwhelming sense of sexual happiness—and wonder how ordinary men will cope with us.
Are we grown too powerful? Are we now too much? To strong? Too beautiful?
“We are unlimited,” Eros explains. “We are Overseers to all. We have the power. We are unshackled by their rules, and we can give this gift to all who desire it.”
Anteros answers with his deep, beautiful, soothing, sexy voice. “Everyone.”
“We must share,” Eros says.
I think on his words for a moment. I sense his deeper meaning, because I know him. He and I are one, and he and I are different. We share so much, now, and I have an epiphany in the scant seconds it takes my improved brain to consider possibilities and outcomes.
We must share. “Yes,” I agree.
It is time.
Time to share ourselves with the world.
Our first duty—if ‘duty’ was the right word, though it felt much more like pleasure—was of course to visit the hall where all of our brothers waited for their assignments. Some would be outside the Residence servicing those who could afford them—those who were as I had been—but there would certainly be enough men available for us to immediately mature a very large contingent.
How far would we take them? I wondered if the world was ready for us, Level Twelve Augments with abilities, strength and beauty so far surpassing what could be normally attained that we might no longer be considered merely human.
Perhaps we never were. I thought of my own initial impressions and curiosity about Augments and realized I had not considered them human at the time. Now that I was one of them—indeed, now that I was more than them—I understood my misconceptions and was determined not to allow the world to consider these men, or me, lessor beings intended for the service of others.
I was a god, or the nearest thing to one that was walking the earth. A god of love and sex. And I would show the world what that truly meant.
First, though, and selfishly, I wanted to see what I had become. I wondered if my own level of perfection approached what I saw and felt in the overwhelming physical beauty, massive muscular development and wondrously intense sexuality that Eros and Anteros had attained. Did I look like them? Did I even approach that level of superhuman perfection?
Looking down at my newly grown body, it was clear that my own muscularity, level of development, and physical refinement was at least as absurd and grandiose. My chest pushed forward by inches. Each globe was perfect. The merest movement brought thick striations of power that pressed against my skin, showcasing the evident strength I could manifest. I certainly felt powerful. Bending either arm, a huge ball of perfect brawn swelled upwards and split into distinct heads. I was carved and ripped and beautiful.
“I want to see myself,” I said.
Eros smiled. “Of course,” and then with a gentlemanly wave of his incredibly muscled arm, he bowed slightly and gestured toward the room where I had shattered the mirrors when I spontaneously erupted with a rocket of cream when I had looked upon my old self.
I was determined, somehow, to keep control of myself this time. After all, there were only so many mirrors in the room. If I kept breaking them—and kept maturing (did I want to keep maturing? Could I?)—I would lose the ability to look at my glory and comprehend what others saw looking at me.
I could practically feel Eros’s eyes on my butt as I walked before him. He wanted inside. He wanted to feel what I felt like. He hungered for me.
The ceiling was lower than before and I had a weird, sudden sense of falling as I adjusted to my new taller height. It was difficult for me to gauge how big the three of us were without someone else to compare to, but based solely on the size of the furniture and the new angle from which I viewed everything, I estimated that we had grown to nearly eight feet tall.
Titans, then, as well as gods. No one would be able to ignore us—though, given our ability to bring roomfuls of people to instant sexual fulfillment…or were we stronger now and could perhaps do it to entire buildings? Just stand outside a nearby office, naked and glorious, unleashing our unlimited sexual power on it and the people inside and watch as the windows were suddenly covered with milky white cum? Dicks ripping free of their cages and fountaining thick loads before their owners knew what was happening to them?
Anyway, everyone would know we were around, if only from the scent.
The room was saturated with that feral cologne, and now we were all giving it off. Eros had previously been the sole owner of this pheromonal exhaust, releasing it from himself to heighten the pleasure of those around him. Now all three of us had been gifted with it, and were apparently releasing it in such strong doses that it was unavoidable and very potent.
It was a kind of beautiful stink. Certainly not floral or perfumed. It was a wild, natural, very human musk scented of our bodies and our sex. It was not unfamiliar to me, for it had the tang and flavor—yes, the taste—of sweat, but it was stronger, and colored with a sense of sexuality and sensuality. Its effect was almost narcotic, drilling straight to the libido.
It felt good to breathe myself in, and it made my cock buzz and my ass tingle. It was very definitely heightening the sensation of sexual pleasure that we were capable of delivering, and it seemed to be constantly issuing from…somewhere.
“Yes,” Eros said, almost growling the words. “You smell good. You will from now on. It’s part of who you are.”
Had I spoken my thoughts aloud? “So do you,” I said. He grabbed my muscled ass in his strong grip and sent a heavy throb of sexual desire into my huge frame. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to fuck everyone. I knew that I would now always feel this way. My cock throbbed happily and I heard him rumble a laugh that he could still manipulate me so easily.
“You didn’t know what would happen,” I suggested, knowing it to be true. I glanced back at his handsome face. My cock throbbed again.
“No,” he admitted. “But we knew it had to happen.”
“We had to move beyond their control, and their ideas of who we are. We had to be our own men.”
“You were not?”
He shook his noble head. “We were not. Not until you.”
A swell of pride and lust and love grew inside me. I had done this? No, we had done this. “Not until us,” I said.
He laughed gently again. It was a warm, wonderful, dick-strengthening sound. “Not until us.”
We rounded the corner into the room of shattered mirrors and walked toward where we could see ourselves. I wasn’t sure if this was important to my two companions, and I don’t think that it was. Their goals had not been to merely upgrade their bodies and minds to become the incredible men we were now. They wanted freedom, and if the ‘price’ was to become gods, then so be it.
I walked past the broken glass and turned toward the remaining intact mirrors, partly excited and partly frightened to see what I had become.
I looked at my reflection, my eyes meeting my reflection’s eyes first and there was no difference there. My face had changed once again, and was now utterly free of any blemish, line, irregularity or fault that I could see. I looked as I had always looked, but now I looked better. More masculine. More handsome. An intense virility and manly aspect was the most striking difference. Then I allowed my gaze to drift down to my new body and had to suppress that now familiar instinct or uncontrollable desire to release a heavy load of my copious and seemingly limitless supply of cum from my massive cannon because I looked….
My god. Someone will have to invent new words to describe the absolute beauty of this body. Someone will need to scribe a new dictionary of adjectives and verbs so that my tongue can adequately report on what my eyes are seeing.
As I move, as I turn, as I breathe, I can watch this body display its utter and absolute perfection of form and strength. I never thought or dreamed to see in the flesh what my head could only imagine before—and I certainly never thought that I would be occupying the body that I saw before me.
I began to move my hands along the new bulging contours of this masterful and perfect body and watched the reflection do the same. There was still some disconnect within my brain about seeing that man in the mirror and realizing that man was me. How could he be? The man I saw before me was absolutely perfect.
But my hands were verifying what my eyes were seeing in a very distinct and sensitive manner, and a marriage of appearance to reality and realization that this was now me formed in my head.
As my hands passed along my skin, an erotic conduit began to build. My skin was now highly sensitized to touch, including my own. I was feeling my hands traveling along every millimeter with a sensitivity so exact and so intense that it was difficult, at first, to withstand the sudden and acute level of physical and mental information I was processing about…everything. My body was reacting in ways I was accustomed to, but in a manner and intensity that was so far above anything I previously experienced that for a moment I felt drunk and dizzy, intoxicated on the sensual sensations my brain was being force-fed.
It was a highly erotic and sensual sensation. Just my hands moving over my skin. I could feel, with my fingers, every hair, every cell, every nerve ending on every millimeter of my flesh. I could feel the muscles and tendons. It occurred to me that this higher sense of touch would come in very handy, of course, given that I was now a being built—designed—for sex and pleasure. I could now immediately and in the minutest detail receive feedback concerning the person I was touching. I could tell how what I was doing felt to them.
I looked at Eros with wonder on my face. “I can feel…”
“Everything,” he stated, finishing my sentence. “Yes. I was wondering when that would occur to you. It was surprising to me that you didn’t have that before. Well, at least not everywhere.”
“Your old body had areas that were more sensitive than other areas, for some odd reason that I never understood.”
He nodded. “Fingertips. Your tongue. Now, that level of sensitivity to touch—and of touch—has been augmented and covers your entire form. Every centimeter of your skin is now sensitized to the skin of others. It helps us decipher when what we are doing is pleasurable to those we are with, so we may continue to stimulate those areas our partners enjoy most, and avoid other areas.”
I looked at myself again. “Even my sensitivity to myself?”
“Of course. How will you understand the pleasures of others if you don’t understand your own?”
I could hardly breathe, let alone think. Really, it was quite overwhelming. It was like discovering another whole new sense, though it was really only an absurdly amplified version of one I already possessed. I wondered if my others had been similarly boosted? “Do you…will I ever get used to this?”
“In what way?” Eros asked, curiously. “Do you mean you would prefer your body to register sensations in the old manner? Why would you want that?” To illustrate his confusion and to clarify his point, he set his hands to my body and began to explore in a similar fashion.
A cascade of new, exciting, highly sensual sensations began to emanate from every point on my body that he touched. My god, if my own touch had shocked me, his was sending me close to insanity.
It felt so amazing, so pure and clean and perfect. I could feel him with an intensity bordering on ferocity. I could neither shrink from his touch nor lessen its impact. My brain was being flooded with sensations, and struggling to interpret them all and come to terms with what I was feeling.
Eros advised, “Relax. There is nothing to fear.” His voice was soothing, calming…but I was trying to cope with something I had no preparation for.
“It’s too much,” I said. And I was afraid.
His hands moved over my massive naked form with a gentleness that belied his own size and power. I understood that he was feeling everything I was feeling. My body could provide the same feedback that it now recognized and absorbed. He did not need to read my mind or look at my face to understand my emotional state as my new body delivered this flood of sensations. My body, through our contact, was telling him so.
He moved closer. His scent was deep and funky and made my cock pulse and throb. It seemed designed, and it probably was, to drill itself into my pleasure center through my nostrils and live there, sending out waves of pure carnal thoughts that tickled my libido and made me feel suddenly hot—physically and emotionally.
He placed his lips to my neck. I had never felt a kiss like that. I could feel his lips, their softness, their warmth, their moist heat against me as if he were kissing my own lips. One hand moved down my body, over my bulging pecs and cobblestone belly and his fingers rubbed my treasure trail and dug into my thick pubic bush. The other hand moved around and across my chest, his fingertips lingering for a moment on each nipple—vast shocks of pure sexual lust erupted from each, as if he were plucking some taught guitar string that registered symphonies of bliss through his simple touch—before he pulled me into his muscular embrace and he pressed himself to my back.
The contact of skin on skin multiplied by a billion-fold and I nearly swooned from the sensual impact.
He kissed my neck again. He pulled my earlobe between his lips and sucked it gently. He pinched it between his tongue and teeth. I felt every millimeter of his body against mine, and I knew it with a level of intimacy that seemed almost obscene. His lips moved next to my ear and he whispered, roughly, “Would you really want to miss this feeling?”
His body swelled. He used his immense strength and squeezed me. I could feel everything with a magnitude of touch that was insane. His warmth, his hardness, his softness, his sexiness.
“No,” I answered truthfully. I turned around in his arms and wrapped his body in my own strong embrace and kissed his mouth soundly. My brain exploded with an absolute nuclear bomb of sex and sensuous sensations.
And this from nothing more than an embrace and a kiss. I physically shuddered from that realization.
He smiled against my mouth. He understood that I was only beginning to understand what I was capable of now. “Yes,” he said, pulling his lips away and looking into my eyes, “fucking feels fantastic.”
Anteros, likely feeling left out of all this exploration, pressed his warm, hard body to my backside. He was erect, and firmly so. The heat there was magnified and he slipped his shank between my meaty cheeks, rubbing himself against me. I could feel his body as intently and powerfully as I felt Eros, but I could also distinguish each man quite easily. My brain was processing all of these millions or billions of touch points against my skin with pinpoint accuracy.
I felt every ridge and vein and bump on Anteros’s prick. His form, large nipples pressed against my skin felt entirely different from the feeling of his chest, or his belly, or his arms. I could practically form a picture of his body in my head, based solely on him pressing himself against me from behind.
Eros opened his arms and pulled Anteros into the embrace, creating a sandwich from my meat and I was being surrounded by muscle, cock, skin, fur—men.
Closing my eyes, then, Eros continued to kiss my lips as Anteros began to kiss my neck. My cock was growing hard and I allowed it to do so, feeling myself swelling between these two gods as they caressed, kissed, massaged, stroked and groaned in evident and obvious lust for me, and for each other.
I wanted to fuck them both, again. I wanted to feel that sensation. I wanted one to be inside me while I was inside the other. I wanted us joined in the most intense and intimate manner it was possible for humans to experience, and I wanted to feel the sensations of fucking and being fucked inside this new super-sensitive skin.
But at this rate, I knew we would never leave the room.
As my demeanor changed, the two of them immediately recognized it and our mutual pleasuring slowed and then ceased. This was another aspect of becoming intimately attuned to our partners. We could go wherever they wanted us to go, and we could pull back the moment we sensed the desire to do so.
My head was spinning at the sheer weight of this realization. That I could—I would, without hesitation or intent—know the people I would be with at this level of intimacy. No words need ever be spoken. No gestures made. Their feelings, their desires, their passions, their needs would be screamingly obvious to me as they themselves knew it.
I was empathic at a level so deep that I could anticipate the desires of others before they understood it themselves.
And when they wanted their engines revved to the red line, I could do that to, without thought.
If ever there was a perfect lover designed by god, I was it.
We were it.
Gods of perfect love. Perfect sex.
“Let’s go,” I said to my brothers. “We have a lot to do.”
“Yes,” Eros agreed, “we do.”
We strode from our reflections towards the elevator. Its doors recognized our approach and opened quietly. We squeezed ourselves inside, rubbing against each other much to my on-going delight, and the small room began to transport us back to the Residence. I thought about how much I had changed, all in the space of a few hours.
I had walked inside with these two massive men as they towered over me. Now we were equals in every way, and so much beyond the men we would be encountering when these doors opened that they might feel as I had back then.
I would see my initial Overseer again. I was now more than him, as well. What would be his reaction to us? Could he overcome his own programming, or conditioning, and understand what we had done—what we had become?
Would he send some alarm to whomever was in control of these men? Would they try to subdue us before they understood we were now unstoppable, and completely beyond their control?
Would we seduce them, and make love to them, and lift them to our godhood?
Yes, I thought. Of course we would.
The doors whispered open.
I was temporarily dazzled, again, as my new senses made their powers known to me. As before, I could see auras emanating from every man in the Residence, but now they were so much richer, and conveyed so much more information that I was sure I would quickly learn to understand. I looked at my companions and they were glowing—had been all along, but we were all of the same wavelength, or something, and their glow was dimmed by my own.
Now, though, looking at the gathered, beautiful, naked men in the Residence, I was awestruck by their beauty and power.
Then my sense of smell and its heightened ability to recognize the singular scent of a man kicked in, too, and I could delineate every body in the room, and knew the exact count of them, and where they were, and who was with whom, and the level of sexual desire they were currently experiencing.
My ears, too, had been changed. Rather, my sense of hearing. My ears had been physically perfected like every other aspect of my body, but my hearing had altered in some fashion to be attuned to nuance of tone and emotion, even in such subtle sounds as moans of pleasure, or gasps of wonder, or growls of desire.
I though for a moment that I would be flooded with too much information, that I would be unable to cope with it all, that I would be distracted or even crazed by trying to understand everything coming in at once, but that wasn’t the case. After an initial moment of adjustment—and surprise—these new senses were innate to me.
Instinct of a sort overcame any fear of inundation, and I was easily discerning each man in the crowd, even at a distance, based on his scent, his level of desire, his sexual craving, the strength of the pheromones he was pumping out, whether he was already engaged in activity or not. It was colossal, how much I knew about every man in that place and I had yet to actually set foot in the room with them.
The power. The staggering power not just in my fingertips, but in every single cell of my body.
“Oh my,” I said softly.
Eros and Anteros looked at me from either side. Their sheer sexual power was throbbing in the enclosed space. It was a wonder to me that the men spread out before us were not already spontaneously fountaining huge sprays of cum from their suddenly erect pricks, thrown into spasms of orgasmic ecstasy and succumbing to our combined overwhelming beauty. Hell, it was a wonder that I wasn’t creaming the walls with my own unending load of spunk!
I knew that they could tell without words—from only my own scent and the sensations I was providing consciously and subconsciously—what I was feeling. We knew each other at a depth that no humans had ever been able to share before. Love flowed from them into me, and I returned it.
I took a deep breath of the sexuality in the room and clapped my hands together. “Let’s party!”
“Indeed,” Eros agreed, readily.
“Fuck yeah,” Anteros announced with his typical schoolboy charm.
What passed then, in the few hours that the three of us spread ourselves among our brothers would be hard to convey only in words. Perhaps if I was there beside you I could more amply illustrate the level of sexual power we were offering, in person, touching your body, and you touching mine.
Our augmented and enhanced level of beauty and sex will otherwise remain inconceivable to you. Even if you have already been with an Augment, or are augmented yourself. The level of sexual, sensual, physical and emotional ecstasy I can now provide far surpasses anything you have experienced, or imagined. I can guaran-fucking-tee you that.
It will be difficult if not impossible for you to fathom what we three can do. It would have been impossible for me to conceive of it until we were engaged in it—until I released myself, unleashed myself, let loose the reins of the roaring sensual beast that lies within me—and experienced and realized to the fullest extent my body’s overwhelming and nearly overpowering sexual abilities and had not experienced what I am capable of and very willing to do to you, now.
To you, or for you, or with you. However you prefer it to happen. Us to happen. Together. In control or out of control. Top or bottom or both. Dominant or submissive. None of that matters. You never have to tell me. You never need to speak, unless you want to, and then you will shout and scream and tear the sky apart.
Because when you are with me, you will experience perfect bliss. So will I, of course. You never need to worry about that, if that is something you worry about. Are you performing adequately? Am I enjoying myself? Are you all that I hoped you’d be?
Fuck that shit, my friend. My brother. My lover. Fuck it all to hell. There is no possible way to disappoint or confuse or irritate or frustrate me. It is all good, all of it, every single drop of it.
When I’m with you. And only you.
And I want that very much. I ache for it, I live for it, for your touch, your face, your cock, your ass. All of you.
And when you’re with me, I will wrap you up in my strong, strong arms and remake your world. I will kiss you as you have only dreamed a kiss can be, and you will think you have never felt anything that felt that good, and that you may never feel anything that good again.
But you’d be wrong, because we’ve only just started, you and I. There are worlds of pleasure to explore. Every centimeter of your body, everywhere. My hands, my fingers, my lips, my tongue, my teeth, my cock, my balls, my ass, my skin and bones and muscle.
My muscle. Do you like muscle, my brother? My lover? Do you want to feel it? Touch it? Worship it? Do you want to feel me as I swell? As I bulge and grow, because of you? As I become stronger and stronger, as my body literally swells with power and I hold you against me as I grow? Do you want to feel that? Do you want to experience what it feels like for me, to feel your worshipful hands on my naked body, stroking and rubbing and caressing me as I grow more powerful by the heartbeat?
And by the time we’re finished, you’ll understand what it is to be me. Because I will give it to you. I will give it all to you.
Because I can.
And I want to.
I have never wanted anything so strongly in my life.
We moved among them slowly, taking our time with each and every man in that room, and then we watched them with each other. We watched them swell to glorious perfection. We watched them grow and develop into men like us, gods like us, sexual masters with unlimited capacities and unyielding desires. Able and willing and wanting to go everywhere, do everything, be everyone for our lovers, our partners, our brothers.
I came gallons of hot, sweet cream. I pushed inside them and fucked them hard and deep and true. I made them whimper and cry and shout with unfettered bliss. I made them scream with passion. I knew them all as I came inside them, and I welcomed them inside me and pushed their bodies higher and higher and higher, watching and feeling them swell with power that only I could give them—until they gave it to each other.
The room was soon overflowing with muscle and sex and passion and love. The walls were weeping with the scent of us all. The ceiling pulsed and bulged from the heat we gave off as we kissed and fucked and grew.
Each man realized his ultimate perfection. Each man knew us, and we knew them. I fucked him and he sighed and groaned and grasped me hard. He fucked me and I watched his muscles swell with power and strength and watched his face changing to its perfect handsome form and felt the weight and size of him increase as I pushed kilos of thick, hard, powerful muscle into him.
His cock stretched and swelled and hardened into a tool of ultimate glorious sex. His balls bulged and pumped gallons of hot cream all over the both of us, coating our perfect, silken skin and forests of soft fur in the ultimate expression of masculine lust.
Bigger, stronger, more powerful than any man has ever been or might ever be. Level Eight, Level Ten, Level Twelve.
An army of liberated sexual gods tangled in each others’ powerful, loving arms. Swollen to glorious perfection with overactive libidos and overwhelming desire.
Then we were together again, my brothers and I. Eros and Anteros and Zeus, standing at the apex of the family of men, eight feet tall and swollen with power. Cocks rose in salute to us as the dozens of men before us kissed and caressed each other, unable to hold back their lust and love for each other.
Eros kissed me soundly. “Thank you,” he said. His voice was a rumble of pure masculine strength.
“You’re welcome,” I told him. “It was my pleasure.”
He laughed. “That is undoubtedly true.”
“What now?” Anteros asked.
“You need to ask?”
“I like to ask you questions,” he admitted, “because I love to hear your voice. It reminds of when we met, and what you said to me.”
I looked at him and my brow furrowed. I may have been emotionally attuned to his desires at a very essential level, but that didn’t mean I could read his thoughts.
He bent his lips to my ear. “I said, ‘M’gonna cum,’” he whispered. “I said, ‘You’re making me cum.’”
His exact words. The memory of our meeting flooded back to me as if I were re-living it. I could see him standing there, naked in the lounge, stripped bare because I asked him to. And my words were on my tongue. I replied. “Don’t. Don’t cum.”
His breathing grew ragged. His balls were churning. His cock was steel hard, and hotter than the sun. I knew his flood was already pushing for its release. The dam was going to burst. “Oh, fuck,” he said, softly. His warm lips brushed my cheek.
I reached down and grabbed his dick hard, squeezing his shaft. “Don’t cum,” I said. My voice was soft and hard at the same time. I could feel his desire swelling, literally and emotionally. “I don’t want you to cum.” Eros was looking on with a smile on his supple lips. Did he know what we were doing?
“Can’t,” Anteros whispered hoarsely. “Can’t hold it.” His cock bulged in my grip, prying my fingers open.
I squeezed harder. “Why do you have to cum?”
He licked his lips. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. “Because of you,” he said. “Oh, fuck, I want you so bad. I need you so bad.”
Want. Need. There was that familiar strain and desire in his voice. His cock was monstrously thick and hard and pulsing. “Will you cum without my permission?”
“No,” he said. “No,” again, softer. The muscles of his body were stark and bulging against his flesh. Veins were everywhere. It seemed like he was truly about to explode, as if the action of withholding the wealth of cream in his balls from erupting up and out the fat inches of his magnificent prick was causing his whole body to swell with brawn.
He was on the verge of a huge ejaculation. My very presence still made him this way. The scent of me. The sensation of my closeness. His huge body, overwhelmed with muscle, standing tall and true and awaiting my desire, my wish, my command. “When I place my lips to your cock head,” I said, very slowly, “you may cum in my mouth.”
His smile was incandescent. “Thank you,” he answered.
“But not until then,” I added, stroking the full length of him. He was so hot under my touch. His blood was on fire. His cock bulged against my hand and his balls churned and moved with the full load of his creamy, powerful cum.
“I understand,” he said.
I dropped to my knees before the god. “Are you ready?”
“Fuck, yes,” he stated. “Oh, fuck, I want to cum inside your mouth. Oh, fuck, I can hardly hold on. I want you so, so badly.”
I licked my lips. His monstrous meat throbbed angrily an inch from my mouth. The tip drooled a steady stream of precum and full, thick veins wound around the shaft like lightning bolts. The wealth of his foreskin was stripped back and the helmet was shiny and red. It jutted forward from him like a tree limb, its weight and heft keeping it at a 90-degree angle from his perfect muscular body. It bulged with his need, and grew fatter as I watched it.
I leaned slowly forward and opened my mouth. I darted my tongue forward and touched it to the end of his prick, tasting his salty essence and drawing back a thin clear string of honey. The tang of his taste coated my lips and I sucked it off. He pulled in a sudden deep breath and his hands balled into fists. I was torturing him, and we were both enjoying it.
His cock was magnificent. I could’ve remained there with his huge meat throbbing before me forever. It was a thing of gorgeous masculine power and immense sexual might, thick and powerful and juicy, ready to go off and fountain his massive flood of hot cream, the ultimate expression of his desire and his power.
A deep groan escaped his chest. His cobblestone belly heaved with each breath. Trickles of sweat, scented with his intense funky spice, wound through the curls on his huge pecs. A droplet clung to one nipple, quivering and plump.
I smiled and licked my lips, staring forward at his cock. Another drizzle of precum grew to a fat ball of honey and drooled from the eye. “Please,” he begged me. “Please…”
I pursed my lips and leaned forward. I kissed the tip of it. He was hot and hard. A slick of precum coated my lips. He nearly came. I felt him surge and bulge as I kissed him, but he managed to contain his load for another heartbeat.
He was right on the verge. Right on the edge. He could probably feel it pushing up the inches of his prick, filling it up with his seed, ready to explode with a fat, thick spray. I licked the tip and sucked his clear honey inside my mouth. “You’re perfect,” I said.
Then I opened my mouth and welcomed him inside.
He immediately exploded. Just like the first time. His first blast squirted out between my lips and his shaft and another fat gush was already following it up. He groaned again and sighed and came again. The third as full and rich as the first. I guzzled and gulped and swallowed as fast as I could manage, feeling his heat and power flowing down my throat and into my belly.
He came copiously and continuously and fully. Gushing blasts of his cream filled my mouth. A dozen thick thrusting gouts of hot cream and he still wasn’t done. I drank it all down, every drop I could keep in my mouth, feeding my need for his strength and beauty and power as if he was giving it to me through this thick fount.
I grabbed onto his ass and held him inside and he started to thrust and fuck my face. I sucked and slurped and wrapped my tongue around his fat cock and felt it surge and bulge as he came over and over.
At last he sighed and I felt his hands on my face, his warm palms against my cheeks, and he lifted my eyes to his face and his beautiful smile and he said, “Thank you.”
I pulled my mouth off his still drooling cock, sucking off the last precious drops of pearlescent cream, and licked my lips of his taste. “You’re very welcome,” I said. “That was amazing.”
He winked. “And we’ve only started.”