Live and learn

By WBHunk 
3 parts
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• Latest update: 7 December. Next update: 21 December. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest post: Saturday Flashback: December 2015.

• Latest from BRK: “Flashmob”, Parts 9‑10.

Part 1

The door of my office swung lazily open, the light from the hallway cascading over my desk and illuminating the garish green memo paper laid on its top. A grand start to a glorious Thursday, I groaned to myself. Green always meant that Dr. Erwin had taken offense at something and that I had to go get my butt blistered.

Well, whatever it was could wait until I was good and ready. Shucking my coat and slinging my hat onto the nearby rack, I sat down and started to access my daily schedule, stopping only as a shadow from the doorway cast across my computer screen. Too narrow for Erwin, so I swung my chair around.

“I thought I heard you come in,” said Jacqua, Dr. Erwin's secretary, who was leaning against the door. “Dr. Erwin wants to see you right away. He's been sending me to look for you.”

“Tell him I'll be there in just a second,” I said, swinging back around towards the computer screen to hide the grin on my face. Jacqua's outstanding talents as office help had very little to do with filing or typing. A normal secretary would have simply used the intercom, but in the five years Jacqua had worked for Dr. Erwin, she still hadn't figured out why there were all those little buttons on the phone. Fortunately, her boss did very little that required any help from her—in a clerical sense. As the click of her six-inch heels faded down the hallway, I put the computer on sleep and got myself mentally ready to bait the fat lion in his den.

“What kind of a mood is he in?” I directed as I walked into the outer office, the scrape of Jacqua's nail file a nice counterpoint to the tuneless whistling coming from Erwin's half-open door.

“A good one, I think,” she said innocently. “He's taking me out to lunch today.”

Uh-huh. I knew what he was having for dessert. “Have fun,” I smiled, pushing the office door open.

The chair squeak that I had begun to dread like no other started as I stepped into the room. Unusual—Erwin used to let me sweat for a little bit before he'd actually acknowledge my presence. As he turned around, my eyebrows shot up—for starters, he was smiling. Even more interesting, that little quiver in his jowls, which I had only seen before at the awards ceremony when I had received the outstanding graduate student fellowship, was moving like an obese earthquake. “Tom! Good news,” he squeaked, in that voice like fingernails down a chalkboard. “Do you know who Dr. Francis is?”

Only the Nobel Prize winner for four years ago in both medicine and genetics, and the most famous researcher at State who nobody ever actually saw around here. “He emailed me today and said he would like to talk with you about performing some research,” Erwin bubbled, jowls going up and down like a gross waterbed. “It would be a great opportunity for you!”

And more research money into Erwin's coffers. “Thank you sir,” I said, trying to keep a civil tone. “I'll get in touch with him today.” Erwin smiled and turned around, indicating the interview was over. My perfect pitch writhed in agony as he started to hum contentedly, and I quickly fled back to my office.

I touched my computer and froze stock still. There was an email up on the screen, and I knew I'd closed out the system: “See you at 4:30 P.M. today, Lower Research Annex, room 12. Dr. Francis”

Well, two could play at the file access game. Quickly I slipped the Zip disk that I'd commandeered from Dr. Erwin's office (like he knew how to use it) and opened my way into the system access codes for our network. I called up my files and froze again. Someone had accessed virtually all the data I had in the university system today and had made a creditable attempt at breaking through the firewall that shielded my hard drive. With a few keystrokes, I invoked my bloodhound program and started tracing the tap back to its source. “Computer located in Lower Research Annex, room 12”

“Query user?”

“Indicate Dr. Michael Francis last access protocol”

I sat back. This guy was definitely good—it had taken me a whole semester to crack the data access language needed just to enter the system and devise some tap programs. He had pulled up all of my stored data without using any hacking programs. Carefully I retraced my steps, slowly cyber-brushing my tracks.

“Locate data, Dr. Michael Francis?”

“Access denied”

Like hell. Try this passcode on for size.

“Access opened. No data present”

What? You couldn't exist at State U without some form of a data file. But after five tries, I figured out that he'd found a way to do it. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought to myself. It'll be interesting to meet this guy and figure out why he needed to know how many parking tickets I hadn't paid. Seeing that it was four already, I shut down and headed out.

Lower Research Annex was in the back quadrangle of the campus, the place where the seniors used to tell the freshman that the ghosts of past experiments haunted the buildings and sidewalks. When the new Research Park had been built, almost everyone had moved out there, but there were still a few lights on in dingy windows as I hurried along the drab sidewalk. Reaching the building, I pulled out my ID to open the access lock, but the door swung open simultaneously.

OK, this guy is really good, I thought to myself. Hurrying down the gray halls, my footsteps echoed loudly. There wasn't another soul in the building—nothing but empty offices with old desks and chairs pushed carelessly out in the hallway, a film of drab dust covering everything. Suddenly Room 12 loomed up in front of me, lights visible through the cracked safety glass in the institutional door. Quickly I opened it and plopped into the first chair in front of me.

Surprised, I noticed that I wasn't in the standard office with a secretary—this was the main itself. A pool table-sized mahogany desk crouched in front of me, absolutely bare of paper or plaques or anything. Instead of diplomas on the wall, there were simply mirrors—gold-framed, wood-framed, silver-framed, all reflecting my quizzical glance. With that, the big leather chair on the other side of the desk swung around and I came face to face with Dr. Michael Francis.

And almost wet myself. Dr. Michael Francis was 6—5 and who knows how many pounds of healthy muscle. His broad frame stuck out in perfect relief underneath his classy dress shirt and tie, his beard framing an achingly-handsome face with two intense green eyes peering from under a brown buzzcut. “Thomas Remington, I presume,” he rumbled in a deep, manly baritone.

“Y-yes sir,” I squeaked back. Up till that point, I'd never thought of a guy as downright sexy, but Dr. Francis could turn on a dead man.

“It's good to meet you,” he said, looking me over from top to bottom. I thought I saw a little twinkle in his eye. “I'd like you to come out to my place tomorrow for supper. 5 P.M. I'll send you the directions.” He turned back around. I snuck back out the door and fled to my truck, not knowing why, but having to get somewhere safe quickly. As soon as my house door slammed shut behind me, my hands were working my cock, finally shooting the huge load that had seemed to come out of nowhere on my frantic drive through downtown and three red lights. What in the heck was going on? I had never even dreamed about another guy before. Quickly I plugged in my laptop—only to see another message pop up on the screen: “Map and directions included. See you at 5 P.M.”

Friday crawled by. Finally the magic hour arrived. I got in my truck and drove out of town along the darkened road the map indicated, oak leaves blowing out of the ditches as I sped past, trees rising like dark sentinels along the sides. “Talk about living in the boonies,” I muttered. I hadn't seen another house for six miles—not that you even could through these thickets. Suddenly an iron gate loomed up in the headlights. I slammed on the brakes and skidded forward, gates parting just as my brush guard would have opened them. I jounced another mile or so up a foreboding hill, no light visible on either side, until suddenly there was a small log cabin with a big front porch and a truck parked in front. This had to be the caretaker's cabin. I must have missed something, I thought. Quickly I jumped out of the truck and strode up to the front door. I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened.

“Glad you found the place,” Dr. Francis boomed. He gestured, “Come in. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you sir,” I said, tenatively walking in the door.

“None of that sir business here, Tom,” he chuckled back, extending a huge hand. His eyes met mine and twinkled again. “Call me Mike. Supper's on the table.”

“Yes sir—I mean Mike,” I replied, flustered. I stepped up to the table and stopped again in shock. Beef stroganoff—my favorite dish. How in the hell did he know that?

“Let's eat!” he said, gently shoving me down into a chair. His muscular forearm shot out and grabbed my plate, which he proceeded to fill with noodles and sauce. Glutes rippling, he moved to the other end of the table, dished himself a massive helping, and started eating lustily. I sat, chewing slowly, not daring to take my eyes off him. I didn't know what was going on and every ounce of common sense in my body was telling me to get the heck out of there, but somehow I just couldn't leave. I tried looking around, but it was just like his office—more mirrors of every type everywhere. No matter where I looked, I couldn't escape that massive figure inhaling stroganoff.

“Is it OK?” The rumble of his voice broke the silence. I jerked back to his eyes, now staring at me.

“Sure—great,” I said, hurriedly picking up my fork and eating again. I finished my plate just as he did, both of us looking up at the same time. He grinned. “Leave the dishes here. Let's go over to the living area,” indicating the sofa and chair set over in the corner. He sprung up and landed in the chair with the graceful ease of a jungle cat. Stunned, I followed him over, the bulge in my jeans getting larger and larger with each second. Damn that hot washer. I sat down on the couch and faced him, somehow noticing for the first time that he was only wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. His chest hair poked out of the top of his T, which almost glowed with the strain of muscle. His jeans were just as tight and contoured to tight, solid legs the diameter of a good tree trunk.

“You like what you see?” Oh great, had I been staring?

I tried to stutter an answer, but he held up his hand. “It's OK Tom. I was rather hoping you would. You see, I've brought you here for a purpose tonight. When I looked through the grad student records, yours seemed just right—smart, athletic—and when you tried to hack my system, you showed me you were spunky too. All of those are the qualities I was hoping for.” For what? “W-what did you have in mind?” I said, wondering very strongly about the possibility of making it to my truck before he tried anything. He grinned. “As you know, I'm a geneticist. And you also know that I received the Nobel Prizes in biology and medicine for my work with genetic splicing in bacteria. However, I have also done some work with what I call genetic enhancement—taking a gene series from a species and expressing each individual gene under ideal conditions. Ultimately, it allows you to grow a perfect specimen of that species.”

“Where did you publish that?” I said, temporarily distracted by the intellectual possibilities.

“You're looking at it,” he chuckled.

“What?” I screeched.

He laughed even harder. “Yep. The first time it worked experimentally, I had just been diagnosed with cancer and was tired of being sixty years old. So I decided—what did I have to lose? I went ahead and experimented on myself—and what you see,” he said, flexing in front of me, “is what constitutes perfection in the human genetic code. But there's only one problem.”

“And what might that be?” I said, frightened but intrigued. Evidently this process worked and I was beginning to think of possibilities for myself that I had long ago buried in my subconscious.

“I want a son.” I froze as he spoke those four words.

“But how can I help with that? With that body, any woman in the world would be glad to have your child!” I stuttered out.

“It doesn't quite work that way,” he said, coming over to the couch. I retreated to my corner of it as his massive bulk came over closer, his pants beginning to bulge in front. “I don't want a woman. I want my own muscleson—and I want it to be you.”

I thought my entire brain had blown a fuse. “B-but how….what….why….”

“Don't think any more,” he said, moving over to the side of the couch and enveloping me in his arms at superhuman speed. “Just feel.” He pressed his lips to mine, his tongue moving into my unresisting mouth. Quickly he peeled open my shirt and pulled my jeans past my waist. He paused, smiled….and with one quick flex of his pecs tore his shirt to tiny bits, his arms and diamond-hard chest blowing outward like a volcanic eruption of pure muscle. He flexed his neck and popped the remaining shreds of his collar. My cock shot upward and then, with a roll of pure ecstasy, blew all over his massive upper body. He growled with animal pleasure, his cock forcing and ripping its way out of his zipper like a massive veiny snake, at least 12” and super thick. With one sudden quick movement, he was at my waist—paused…..and shoved it into my ass. I felt the pain as it ripped its way in, but just as suddenly, I felt my ass give and flex for it, like this was what it had been made to do. Pulses of pleasure coursed through my body as he shoved over and over again, legs bursting out of his pants as he braced and thrusted. Finally, with a massive roar, he shot into me, a river of pure liquid warmth, pushing through my whole body like a nuclear core. In the thrill of pure ecstasy, I passed out as his massive body crashed down on mine.

Part 2

The morning sun streamed in the bedroom window, finally knocking hard enough on the door of my brain to open it. With a groan, I turned over in bed and snuggled deeper into the sweet-smelling white sheets. And sat bolt upright a few seconds later when I remembered my sheets weren't white!

Wildly I looked around the room. Log walls, mirrors everywhere….slowly my memory pulled up the events of the past night. Had I gone to bed with—and as I looked over, my question was instantly answered. Dr. Francis—sorry, Mike, my mind instantly corrected—lay sleeping quietly, mountainous pecs rising and falling with each easy breath. Without thinking, I reached over and gently caressed his nips, twin peaks set in a forest of luscious brown hair. His breath caught higher in his throat, eyes flicking open a second later. He looked over at me, white teeth in a dazzling smile against his tanned skin. “You're something to wake up to,” he chuckled, voice low and musical.

“So are you,” I answered back, rolling over on top of him and laying my cock against his, his lips pressing against mine in one of those drop-dead kisses I distinctly remembered from the night before. I felt his cock stiffen under mine, hot man-blood transforming mere tissue into an instrument of abject pleasure. I crawled forward on his enormous body, kissing his ears, then his forehead, then his hairline, and then lowering myself gently onto his cock, my ass quivering in anticipation. I felt him enter me, then thrust gently, using his rock-hard glutes to move and writhe his cock inside my hole, each movement a glow of pure pleasure. He stiffened as I braced against him, the rumble from deep inside his balls growing larger by the second. I felt the cum leave his balls, then travel through his shaft as the head flared inside me, then exploding in pure nuclear orgasm, a wave of warm cum seeming to travel through my entire insides. My cock fired back a retort, waves of ecstasy greater than I had ever felt washing through me for what seemed endless minutes. Breathless, I sank back onto the warm hardness of his chest….suddenly realizing it wasn't at all sticky. Where was the cum I had just shot?

“That's one of the immediate side effects,” Mike said almost instantly with an amused look.

“What do you mean?” I answered back, still a little dazed from the lack of oxygen.

“The side effects of the…..treatment….I gave you. The beginnings of the genetic enhancement process.” He looked me up and down. “Like this,” he said, his hand reaching up to my head. I closed my eyes, imagining how good it would feel for his fingers to run through my hair, but suddenly realizing his hand was touching my scalp. I reached up and found no hair. Instantly I leaped out of bed and stared into the full-length mirror that stood next to it.

I was bald. Spear bald. There wasn't a bit of hair anywhere on my body. My chest, abs, cock, legs, even eyebrows…..all hairless. I stood there, mouth wide open, a horror flooding through me, but then realizing….I had abs. Among other things. My muscles stood out in bold relief like an Olympic swimmer’s, pecs high and tight, legs covered with braided steel cables, arms rippling with each move. Awestruck, I hit pose after pose, enjoying the new look of my marble-statue body.

“Perhaps I'd better explain,” Mike said, again springing out of bed and landing gracefully beside me in one quick movement. His hands began to massage my now-steely glutes. “When I performed the process on myself, all this happened—quick growth, no hair, no cum. It's the body's adaptation to the new genetic code. When I gave you my cum, I initiated the process in you. Your DNA is now being restructured as half-mine, half your genetic code amplified.”

“So that's what you meant by “son—”, I said, picking up his concept. “So as this develops, I'll become more like you?”

“Every bit,” he answered back, looking at me lovingly. “In addition, since your code was more perfectly expressed than my original was, you should surpass me eventually. But,” he said, turning me around and placing his hands on my shoulders, “that's what a father always wants for his son.” He kissed me again.

“Thanks Mike….I mean, Dad,” I said, hugging him tightly, feeling his hard body against mine. He hugged back, massive biceps bulging against the unyielding sides of my rib cage. “So how long will this take?”

“The process took about a month for me,” he rumbled back. “But….I have an idea that might accelerate it a great deal.” He looked me up and down with a hungry glance, cock stiffening almost immediately. “I theorize that a sudden release of neurotransmitters coupled with a surge of male hormones should increase the rate at which your cells complete the genetic restructuring exponentially.”

“And that means…..I have to fuck you,” I answered back instantly. Shock rippled through me… how had I been able to understand him so fast?

“Tom—full genetic code. That means that it enhances the mental processes as well as the physical,” he smiled back indulgently. I felt my own cock stand up swiftly, and I swore that it hadn't been that long a second ago. His grin broadened. “Remember….don't think. Just feel,” he said, moving in front of me and without warning hitting a most muscular pose, veins bulging, muscles exploding outward like popcorn, even his man-fur seeming to bristle and become larger. Instantly I lunged for him, bringing him roughly to the ground, my mind filled with one thought and one thought only—find the hole. I growled and slavered like a beast, thrusting my cock against him blindly, each miss only heightening the raging fire of lust in me. He twined in my grasp, moving, opening his legs—and suddenly I was in, the air rushing out of his lungs in a gasp as I thrusted against him, my cock moving farther and deeper each time. My breaths came in inhuman grunts as I pushed and pushed, feeling the pure sex drive fountain from the very depths of my being, as if his ass was the key to my survival. My eyes clouded red, my other senses growing dark as my sole focus became his sweet hole, pleasure coursing through me as I spent every ounce of lust in my body. I felt the rumble in my own balls like an earthquake, cum crashing against an organic dam. I screamed from every cell of my body as the dam broke, cum cascading out in waves of utter power, shooting through the canyon of my shaft and deep into his well of ecstasy. My body shook and quivered as the echoes of the waves shot through me, arms and legs jerking in a rag doll motion. Instantly Mike jumped on my arms to restrain me, but one contraction sent him flying into the wall, logs groaning with the impact.

“Oh damn!,” Mike screamed, fear like a stink in the air. “Son….son!” He came back over, his eyes wide and frightened as I looked up at them, his image single, then doubling, then shaking. Suddenly, they widened even more—and somehow I felt the wonder he was feeling. I looked through his eyes without even thinking about how I was doing it—and saw myself.

Muscle expanding everywhere, my entire body lengthening, then widening at an incredible rate. Muscle upon muscle…..pecs expanding, looking as if they would erupt any second, arms broadening into calf-size, then leg-size, veins popping out like oilfield pipes——legs rippling, changing, enlarging, ropy cables becoming bridge supports, steely-hard, striations visible through the skin. Calves growing into cows, then into bulls. Neck bulling, flaring out to meet winglike lats, delts like basketballs under the skin. Face broadening, then reshaping into aching handsomeness, eyes turning a bright green. Skin tanning throughout to bronzed brown. Cock stretching, then expanding, passing twelve, thirteen….sixteen inches, balls enormous and hanging below them. Then man-fur, first as a sheen, then a haze, then a deep forest of hair covering pubes, then ass, then spreading upward like a luscious river, mounding over pecs, then arms. My mustache resprouted into a full goatee and stache, perfect for framing my sensuous lips. Finally, as if it were a crowning touch, my perfect face and head were capped by a tight flattop of deep brown hair. I felt Mike's amazement as he looked down on this man-god he had created—the love as he looked at his son.

With a start I came back to myself, looking up into Dad's loving eyes. “Wh-wha—wha—”

“Not now, son,” he said, scooping me up with a grunt and a smile. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

Part 3

Dad carried me out the front door and down the porch steps, his breath coming in short gasps as the muscles in his massive legs struggled to hold up our combined bulk. Stepping out into the sunlight, he gently lowered me to the ground, murmuring softly in my ear to put my feet down and stand up.

The world reeled as I straightened up, my brain intoxicated with the feeling of pure power coursing through every portion of my body. Transfixed like a little child, I moved every muscle I could think of, staring at the incredible definition I possessed, almost able to see every fiber move as I flexed. My body looked like a statue cast in solid bronze, beyond the imagination of any sculptor in absolute perfection, a god of muscle brought down to earth. Dad stood off to the side, a smile of pure pride covering his face as he watched me turn and flex, exploring my granite pecs, carved arms, sliced abs, and cabled legs. He had to look up, because I was an honest six-eight, the shadow cast by my back the size of a small car. I felt the wind ruffle through my man-fur like through the leaves of a tree, the rumble of my heart pumping like an immense drum throughout my entire being.

“Are you pleased, Dad?” I said, my voice like the rumble of distant thunder.

“Look and see,” he said, the pleasure evident in his voice. I turned my eyes towards his perfect body. “Not that way,” he said with a hint of playful annoyance. “Look with your mind.”

I looked at him, a slight frown crossing my face—and I felt his reaction to my frown, a little wave of embarrassment, like you might feel heat from an open oven door. I concentrated harder—and suddenly I was in his mind, his emotions as legible as words on a page….love, pride, lust….everything mixed together like a painting in bright colors. I saw myself through his eyes again…..his perfect son, the culmination of years of hope and desire….and we shared the joy that we both felt at how it had come to completion.

“Feels good, doesn't it,” he chuckled. “That was a benefit of the complete mental perfection. You not only can access your whole memory, but you can also sense the emotions and sensory images of others. It definitely has some useful value.”

“So that's how you managed to break into my data,” I answered. “And got you to blow a load when you got home,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye. “But I didn't use it to get you out here….I just hoped you would be willing…..” The chill of the thought of that disappointment washed over me.

“Like you can lie to me now,—I grinned, moving closer to him, my sweet lips making passionate contact with his, our tongues exchanging hellos. I pushed forward into his mind, projecting that lust I remembered from that afternoon, feeling his cock rise underneath me as I teased him with the memory. The waves of passion we both felt mingled, then amplified as our bodies pressed against each other, cocks thickening instantly, precum leaking and lubricating as they slid over each other, two massive muscle cocks locked together in an embrace as passionate as our arms were giving. We crashed to the ground, rolling over each other, our chests slamming, one's pec fibers working the other's nips. Without thinking, I shoved my cock into his hole, our breaths coming in shorter and shorter grunts as the sensations merged, like fucking and being fucked all at the same time, cock and hole blended as one in perfect harmony. The river of cum rose in flooding fury again, shooting out creamy and white as we both came, the ecstasy of orgasm merged, doubled, beyond mortal description.

With a scream, I came back to my mind, my entire body quivering, every muscle fiber moving and rippling like the waves of the ocean. Dad wriggled underneath me, his body jerking and firing uncontrollably, held in place only by my incredible bulk. “Dad!” I yelled, my voice shattering the windows of the cabin, my mind flooding with the sensations he was feeling. I felt his chest heave underneath me, his already-massive pecs expanding and ballooning outwards, fur thickening even as I watched, the sudden stab of his lengthening cock like a shock through my groin, the veins on his legs thickening, every fiber in his muscles now visible and enlarging. “Dad!” I said, hugging him close as I felt him returning to awareness, his body even more rock-solid beneath me, like a slab of warm marble against my skin.

His eyes flicked open, darting first up, then down. I rolled off him and helped him to sit up, feeling the wonder and surprise he was feeling as he examined his new body, extra- defined and cut, skin almost an afterthought over layer upon layer of pulsing muscle, perfect in balance and symmetry, cock like a thick sausage between his legs, a dynamo hum sounding from his soft-balls. “I must say I didn't expect this,” he rumbled, his voice impossibly manly, a big smile crossing his face as he saw my cock stiffen at the sound. “It looks like the process is ongoing each time we give each other cum. I wonder what the end result will be?”

“In the name of science….I think we'd better find out,—I replied, reaching out and holding him tightly, sliding his diamond-hard cock towards my hole as my ass tingled in anticipation.

“You make your old man proud, son,” he chuckled as he moved into position.


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