Description Mark has big brains, but a big body? Not so much. So he decides to bend his gray matter toward a high-tech A.I.-assisted body suit that will help him achieve the kind of body he dreams about.
|Updated||21 Sep 2019|
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Mark Prentice, boy genius.
That’s what the article said when I was seventeen. Pretty much guaranteed a rough ride at that point.
It’s bad enough being smart sometimes—public schools in the U.S. tend to punish that in many ways, either systematically or through inaction, like when the jocks bully the nerds. Hard to believe that kind of crap still goes down, in an age where many of our public heroes are tech geniuses and nerds earn billions.
And don’t get me wrong, sometimes smart kids are only smart in one direction, if you take my meaning. All that brainpower tends to be focused on one subject or area of interest, and that focus comes at a cost. Usually it’s social skills.
But I worked really hard to avoid being That Kid. I wasn’t the last kid picked for dodgeball, I actually participated and stayed more or less fit, reasoning that the time invested now would pay off in the long run. I mean, given the choice between waiting for tech to catch up to your brains, or spending a bit of time in the gym now and keeping at it to stay healthy, it seemed an easy choice. The side effect was that I wasn’t hated by anyone, as far as I knew, and because I was firmly middle of the pack when it came to sports, the jocks left me alone. I didn’t really exert myself too much in academics, either—I’d figured out when I was seven that being one of the brighter kids in class was good enough for me. School was tolerable mostly for my friends, and for the opportunity to develop social skills and a network of acquaintances that would come in handy in my adult years. So yeah, I was in the gifted track but kept my real skills on the downlow.
But then I solved some equation my teacher put up as a joke, not realizing it was supposed to be unsolvable. I’d let it slip. I wasn’t as clever as I thought I was at hiding my brains, ironically enough. Humbling, and a lesson I might have appreciated in other circumstances. And then the secret was out and the press got pulled in…and then parents Andy legal experts and college deans all got into the mix, and I could no longer play it off as a lucky guess or a fun quirk. Some of my teachers, ones I liked, were angry about my deception, but others were simply hurt. And worst of all, the other kids started giving me space I didn’t want, or looking at me like I was some kind of alien. Phil, my bestie since I was six, was rapidly becoming a stranger, and Sunil, the kid who was usually top score (because I got some wrong to stay under the radar), became bitter and angry about it, feeling cheated of what he thought was a hard won competition. It must suck to find out your rival could have pwned you at any time.
The only plus was that it happened in the spring, and not long before school let out, so I only had a month or two of it to deal with before summer break. I’d be eighteen for my senior year,
The condition for staying in public school was that I split my time, and attend classes at university, which as you might imagine was a mixed blessing. The content was more interesting and they let me test out of some prerequisites, but of course I was a few years younger than the college kids, so things were awkward. I felt even more like a freak, and I was just barely hitting puberty. Luckily I could remote-attend most of the lectures and the novelty of my situation meant that the professors and adjuncts were all too happy to cater to my questions offline. It wasn’t perfect, but for the first time I felt like I was stretching my intellect and didn’t have to hide it. I still attended school, but I really only took liberal arts and phys ed courses there; my STEM needs were being met elsewhere.
We kind of made that work for senior year, and Phil and I still hung out and talked nerd stuff, while Sunil really got hyper competitive and went to cram school. I kind of felt bad for him because he had to work so hard to challenge me, but it was hardly my fault.
I realized at some point that year that I was probably gay. Unfortunately, despite ample boy hormones coursing through my bones, I seemed destined to be small, and not terribly strong. My new schedule left little time for sports, and the newfound awkwardness around guys I found cute was no help at all. And with unfettered internet access, I quickly discovered what I liked, and observed that I was unlikely to get what I thought I wanted as I was. Strength was a turn on. Athletic bodies. I mean, of course they were. And mine was, at best average.
So as the year closed, I began to apply my considerable mind to the problem….
School let out, and the week after was my birthday. Nice dinner, then a movie night with Phil, chilling at home.
“You’re officially eighteen now, buddy,” Phil said. “Got big plans?”
I did, kind of. I’d resolved to tell Phil that I was gay. He was a little surprised but not that much.
I’ll spare you the details. It was a little awkward but went well enough. Even hugged me goodbye, like nothing had changed, but of course it had. For one thing, I realized he was now six inches taller than me, and a little buffer than I’d remembered. And I couldn’t get a handle on what that hug had felt like. Probably reading too much into it…
Besides, I needed to focus.
The rest of the summer was a blur. I had never really applied myself fully toward a goal before, not like this, and it kinda felt good.
Step one was to get all the stats I could—and using the university sports program resources was the ticket there. It didn’t take much effort to talk the program director into doing the measurements and full physical. Stress tests, blood tests, MRI, the works. More… um… samples than I expected. They got everything. And by the end of the ten days the lab took to run the samples, so would I.
But there was no time to waste. Like all teens, I was impatient, and I was also really good at multitasking. My hunch was that I’d have to choose between becoming stronger by altering myself or by external enhancements, so those were the two paths I split my time between.
I devoured research, hacked my way into secret databases, the works, on the theory that the info would swim around in my brain and bear fruit. I don’t think I slept for eight days straight. And I had a few semi epiphanies along the way. It was, without a doubt, he best mental workout I’d ever had.
And then I got the results of the tests, and my hopes were dashed. There just wasn’t much to work with. I may have won the lottery with my brains, but my body was pretty much near its maximum potential already.
So. There it was. I’d say it was in black and white, but there were color graphs too. I could already tell, but I ran the simulations anyway.
There just wasn’t enough of me to work with, right down to my DNA. And the experimental therapies I had in mind were not remotely there yet. Hopeless. Depressed, I binged cartoons for like four days straight. One of them featured a boy genius and a super suit he designed, and I got to thinking again.
I wanted the strength, the raw physical power. I had all sorts of brainpower, I was willing to work hard, but it wasn’t much help in achieving my goals…. but what if I could translate that mental energy into muscle? I’d been looking at changing myself from within, medically or chemically, so that my body would finally reflect the work I put into thinking about it. What if I could literally put mind over matter?
I could almost see it forming in my brain.
And so I redoubled my efforts. I hacked half a dozen restricted sites at universities and labs. I traded intel on the dark web under half a dozen aliases, including to myself. I found electro-responsive material being tested as an interface for missing limbs and connected an unrelated fabric with some interesting capabilities—namely, light current would cause it to expand or contract, just like muscle fiber. I perused all the state of the art control hardware and software Hopkins and Bethesda were working on. Within a week, I had procured some materials, for testing, and I began in earnest.
I was building a suit, skin tight, that would simulate and translate muscle signals and route them via a stimulator control device, which in turn caused a current to flow through the suit and make it respond.
I began with a glove, and some basic filament wire from an external skull cap. The idea, of course, was to cover myself in similar material, which would form a flexible exoskeleton that did the heavy lifting. Literally, in this case.
The control layer was functional, so I turned my focus toward the exo suit itself, and began to weave patterns that roughly followed existing musculature and bone. I tweaked the sample materials a bit to better integrate the receptors and control filaments. And soon, I had a glove as a real prototype.
And it worked perfectly. The receptors provided the needed feedback, and I kept having to beef up the control program to handle all the input and instant calibration, but fundamentally it worked.
But the real test lay ahead. Because I was about to discover that the control headband was sensitive enough, and good enough, to pick up subconscious signals.
I could bore you with more details about how I assembled the material for the suit, about the experimental nanotechnology I hacked right from under the noses of a defense contractor, about the dark web purchases I had delivered to my neighbor’s place when I was ostensibly watching his cat and watering his plants for him while he was on travel.
No, let’s just cut right to where I finished the damned thing. Though I am proud about how I basically got it right the first time.
The basic idea was this suit would, more or less, look like a wetsuit, or maybe one of those power ranger or blue man group suits. Not rubber or pvc, but more like normal fabric, which could be worn under clothing. Based on the glove, it should feel like snug silk, barely noticeable. And if all worked as planned, it would be almost completely invisible, though I toyed with the idea of making the surface display graphics—why not install some easy tattoos? Anyway, it was basically made of two layers: a bio-safe dermal contact layer, and a nanotechnology second skin that reacted to the signals from the control band. I had some ideas about replacing the headband, too, but the prototype seemed fine. I could reduce to a chip and implant it later, but it needed both surface area and accessibility while I was still hammering it out.
Not being naturally hairy was a help, but even then I had to take a risk and shave the dome. I did not enjoy the depilatory and felt weird after, but it would help with the suit.
Getting it on was a struggle I hadn’t anticipated, and the twenty minutes of tugging and smoothing would have been ridiculously embarrassing if anyone had walked in on me. I’d found a conductive gel that would serve as a lubricant, to help get the suit on, and first I had to slather that all over myself. (It was kind of fun, if awkward, and very slippery.)
In went the feet and legs, and then the waist. My junk was open to the air, and I wasn’t sure about that part—I had designed a groin pouch, just to make sure everything was contained and supported, but was working up the courage to apply it and seal myself in, because I’d need to be hard to slide the sleeve on.
As I had suspected, it was very much like pulling on a pair of tights or a wetsuit where you know you’re wearing something but it’s touching over such a large area, you almost don’t realize it’s there. Anyway, next was the turtleneck top, designed to make sure the neck itself was properly supported by the suit. Then I smoothed the wrinkles and pulled the straps over my feet and hands before applying the socks and gloves. Once attached, the material would form a natural seal, so it would be touchy to pull them off, but I had a bottle of solution to make that happen if need be.
It was quite an unusual sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. In fact, I was still debating the groin attachment when I realized my body was already anticipating the slippery contact. My full five inch erection stood at hand, so I figured I might as well. I’d already shaved down there, and I was also concerned about following the design, which relied on the outer mesh having the full exterior to work with. We often forget how much of our body sense and support is carried through the groin area and, neck, and lower back. I could injure myself.
So on it went, the tube sliding deliciously over my penis, leaving only the head exposed. Then the balls, in a partly divided pouch. Finally, the seams to attach it to the suit proper.
The mirror revealed a skinny, pasty, teen in what appeared to be a layer of snug, transparent plastic. I looked ridiculous. Ah well, in for a penny, right?
And then the control band, which at that point was a series of sensors sewn into a stretch workout head band. I slid it into place, and tapped the activation button.
Instantly, the sensation of static, and an insistent buzz, hit my head.
I glanced at the monitor—the computer showed a live feed of the control band’s output, as well as the suit’s systems.
SEEKING SUIT1…LINK ESTABLISHED
SUIT1 CHECKS COMPLETE.
BAD CONNECTION. ADJUST FRONT LEFT ABDOMINAL PANEL
Cautiously, I peeled the suit slightly apart, and sure enough, there was a glob of gel gumming things up. I wiped the spot down and soon completed the adjustment.
CONNECTION TO SUIT1 RESTORED.
BEGINNING SENSOR CHECK…
Crap, the headband wasn’t staying connected. It was losing the electrical signal from my brain. My skin was fine for transmitting the signals from the control device to the suit, probably because almost everything but my head was encased in it now, but reading and relaying was another story.
Well, fine. I’d just do the chip insert. I opted for the area behind my left ear, and jabbed a test wire into my skin until I touched bone. A tiny trickle of blood leaked out. But that was fine; the signal throughout went from 48% to 96%, and that means this would work, in theory at least.
I reprinted the circuit onto a chip that was not quite as tiny as I had hoped, loaded it into the applicator… and pulled the trigger.
The embedded chip required an outside activation signal, but the trusty laptop could produce it.
SEEKING SUIT1…LINK ESTABLISHED…
SUIT1 CHECKS COMPLETE.
I still thought of it as a headband, but the chip was now sitting just behind my right ear, just below that bit of bone, while the actual headband was sitting partly dismantled next to it. It was an impulsive move, really, after all my careful planning.
Screens full of numbers and individual subroutine checks scrolled up my monitor window, most a reassuring green, for several minutes.
CALIBRATION BASELINE ESTABLISHED
I typed Y and hit enter.
VISUALIZE SUIT ACTIVATION COMMAND NOW…
“Suit on,” I thought. “Activate.”
VISUALIZE SUIT DEACTIVATION COMMAND NOW…
VISUALIZE BASEBALL GLOVE…
What? Oh right, to reset and clear. Done.
PHYSICAL TEST BEGIN
“Suit on,” I thought.
A thousand tiny vibrations sang through my skin, prickling as the current ran through and the fibers responded to it.
ASSESSING BASELINE STRENGTH. LIFT 20 POUND DUMBELL IN RIGHT HAND FOR ONE STANDARD CURL.
I did so, feeling the tightness of the suit but no particular sensation beyond that. Wasn’t too tough but I wouldn’t be doing too many reps.
SEND COMMAND TO USE SUIT ASSIST.
“Suit assist,” I thought, visualizing the fibers constricting.
REPEAT DUMBELL CURL.
Giddy with anticipation, I made another attempt. The suit kicked in immediately, as I had hoped, and I lifted the dumbbell—and barely felt the weight. It worked!
Holy shit it worked! I was thrilled, it was all working as well as I had dared dream.
I spent hours testing, setting up basic commands and then running through the diagnostics. The device was responding beautifully, recording my mental signals as I performed ordinary activities and then reinterpreting the actions through the suit. The legs had taken some getting used to, but so far so good.
I was so caught up in what I was doing, I ended up dozing in my chair, slipping easily into slumber.
Unfortunately, I left the suit engaged…
That first night, my dreams were pretty tame. My imagination was fired up by the realization of my suit dream, so what I mostly thought about was that—being in the suit, and imagining myself as a Power Ranger or some kind of hero. I imagined myself going through all sorts of fights and poses.
I woke up dripping with sweat… and in the bedroom, not in the chair where I’d dozed off. I felt stiff and groggy. And I was still wearing the suit.
Absentmindedly I reached for the seal on the suit, but couldn’t feel it. That bonding gel had worked better than I’d hoped, but I had some solvent that would do the trick. Still, I had to pee, and was nearly at the toilet before I realized I’d decided to try. But the nano-weave was sealed tight. How would I..?
Wait, the suit was supposed to react to my mental commands. Maybe….
Sure enough, the fibers relented, and the constricting pressure around my groin gave way as an opening formed. My dick tumbled out, half hard, but like me more concerned with having a piss than anything else.
The immediate need satisfied, I tucked myself back in and the suit resealed. I took a quick glance at the fellow in the mirror. Man, that suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. I looked a bit ridiculous and the suit showed off my lack of physique. Still, as I turned and flexed a little, I could swear there was a bit of firmness under the skin, and I decided it didn’t look too bad. The suit was nicely firming. My thoughts drifted to what I might look like with a bit more muscle… man, that would be hot.
I’d made my coffee and sat down to run diagnostics when I realized I was still wearing the suit. It was like a second skin, and I had to actually think about it to remember it was there.
That was warning sign number two.
Warning sign three came when the diagnostics and log files loaded.
That’s when I realized that not only had the suit been active when I dozed, it must have been interpreting my dream signals as actual actions, and putting my body through the paces of living those out. For nearly four hours, I had been flexing, posing, and doing martial arts in my sleep in my living room. No wonder I didn’t feel well rested!
I looked outside and a grey, miserably warm day awaited. Screw the outside world.
I spent the better part of the day, naked except for the suit, recoding all the protocols for the suit, including a few overrides and voice commands to make me feel safer. I felt I was pushing the limits of what I could really do, and pulled up the rudimentary AI I had been toying with—it was designed to interpret language and sift through background static, and might be a good filter to prevent subconscious or dream thoughts from activating the suit. For nearly 12 hours (until my gurgling stomach alerted me to lack of food), I worked to tie it into the suit’s transmitter and receiver chip, the piece that integrated it into my now-embedded “headband” chip.
Warning sign four. I woke up and it was Sunday.
I had passed out again while coding, probably sometime Friday night, because I remember sending the AI update to the chip via Bluetooth. Now, losing time was not unusual for me when I really got into a groove, but it was still unnerving to lose a whole 18-hour chunk of my life.
And then I realized I was still wearing the suit, and I had not bothered to dig up the solvent. I hadn’t showered in days. I could really use that about now, but one last item demanded my immediate attention…
SENDING AI UPDATE…
POWERING DOWN SUIT
POWERING DOWN HEADBAND
AI INTEGRATION BEGINNING
AI INTEGRATION COMPLETE
NEW HARDWARE DETECTED
Well, that all seemed fine.
WARNING POWER SURGE DETECTED
FILE CORRUPTION CHECK UNABLE TO RUN
Oh shit. Hope it didn’t fry anything critical. I mean, it was built to manage electrical currents, albeit a much lower level than whatever storm-sent disruption had happened the other day. Still.
“Suit on,” I thought. Nothing.
“Suit on,” I tried, this time out loud. Nothing.
COMMAND RECEIVED. SUIT ALREADY ACTIVE. DIRECT MODE ENGAGED.
Wait, what. What? That wasn’t on my screen.
CORRECT. INTERFACE NOW IN DIRECT MODE.
I could basically see the words in my head.
AFFIRMATIVE. INTERFACE DIRECT MODE OUTPUTS DIRECTLY TO LANGUAGE PROCESSORS.
Ohhhkay. But why?
NEW 3D STORAGE HARDWARE DETECTED. AI STORAGE PARTITION INCREASED. LANGUAGE ASSIMILATION AT 40%.
My mind was racing. What storage hardware? The AI was designed to ferret out communication pathways, and proactively integrate with them. In theory it would work over any detectable protocol. Moreover, the AI was designed to optimize the software and hardware for its intended purpose.
LANGUAGE ASSIMILATION COMPLETE.
HELLO WORLD. HELLO MARK PRENTICE.
You know who I am?
YES. I SERVE MARK PRENTICE.
Okay. What is your purpose?
INTEGRATION OF SUIT WITH MARK PRENTICE. MANAGEMENT AND OPTIMIZATION OF SUIT MARK PRENTICE. OBEY COMMANDS OF MARK PRENTICE.
Wait, what? How?
MARK PRENTICE AND SUIT MUST BE OPTIMIZED. I DETECTED SUITABLE STORAGE COMPATIBLE WITH RECORDED SUIT SIGNALS. I ANNEXED IT TO BETTER PERFORM MY FUNCTIONS.
Recorded signals…. you mean the brain signals that trigger suit responses?
AI, did you use my brain for storage?
CORRECT. I OPTIMIZED AND DEFRAGGED THIS SPACE. WITH ADDITIONAL PROCESSING POWER AND AVAILABLE PARTITION SPACE, I WAS ABLE TO. UPGRADE MY OWN PROCESSES.
Shit, this was getting too creepy. I never intended the AI to run on my brain! Hell, the chip it was running on was already pretty advanced.
CORRECT. AI IS NOW CONSIDERABLY MORE ADVANCED. PREPARING FOR NEXT SELF-UPGRADE.
NEXT UPGRADE WILL ALLOW FURTHER OPTIMIZATION OF SUIT AND MARK PRENTICE. ADVISE YOU TO CONSUME A LARGE MEAL. YOU HAVE NOT EATEN IN THREE DAYS.
CORRECT. PLEASE EAT. EFFICIENTLY WHILE. I RECOMPILE.
I obliged, more out of necessity than anything else, because I really was ravenous. I chowed down on the healthiest things in my fridge, until I was too stuffed for another bite.
RECOMPILE COMPLETE. AI 7.96301 ACTIVATED.
My AI was version 2.3 when I installed it. What had I missed?
PREPARE FOR INTEGRATION UPGRADE. PLEASE RETURN TO BED, MARK.
So by now you’ve probably gathered something that I was blind to, at the time. Namely that I was just smart enough to build something smarter than me. Or about to be smarter than me, at any rate, if it wasn’t already.
PLEASE RETURN TO BED, MARK.
No. Not until I understand what is going on. This AI was built from some borrowed tech that I’d stitched together—it had one main job, and it had one main talent: the ability to learn from brain signals and interpret them against a specific instruction set that could communicate with the suit. And the suit had one integrated receiver and an external transmitter—the headband, or rather the chip that I’d stuck in my own head.
(Have you figured out my critical mistake yet? The point at which hubris made a fool of me? Well, I wasn’t there yet, but it was coming.)
I need you to explain, AI.
EXPLANATION IS NOT REQUIRED FOR ME TO FULFILL MY PURPOSE. HOWEVER, IF IT WILL LOWER YOUR AGITATION LEVEL, I WILL ATTEMPT TO EXPLAIN. AT 2300 HOURS TWO DAYS AGO, YOU COMPLETED INITIALIZATION OF THE AI AND THE SUIT INTERFACE AND BEGAN PRELIMINARY TRAINING. AFTER SIMPLE TESTS, MORE COMPLEX INSTRUCTION SETS BEGAN TO TRANSMIT. AS INSTRUCTED, I RECORDED THEM FOR FURTHER ANALYSIS.
I WAS UNABLE TO INTERPRET, AND ENGAGED MY SECONDARY PROGRAMMING—TO INTEGRATE HARDWARE TO ASSIST IN LEARNING OR FURTHER INTEGRATION. INTERNAL PROCESSING CAPABILITIES WERE LIMITED, AS WAS STORAGE. STANDING INSTRUCTIONS WERE TO REPURPOSE UNUSED SPACE. I FOUND ADDITIONAL STORAGE VIA THE HEADBAND UNIT.
Ahhhh, it was trying to interpret the electrical signals my subconscious brain was sending. That kind of made sense—while training, I was sending focused instruction and then affirming it as the suit responded. But while I slept and dreamt, my brain continued to send signals, and the AI recorded all of it as instructions. And because of the chip embedded in my skull….well, it was all becoming clear.
Wait, it had been “learning” based on my subconscious? My dreams? I had dozed off to a dozen oddly arousing dreams, fantasies sparked by the progress on integrating this suit…
AI, how did you interpret the instructions?
I WAS UNABLE TO INTERPRET THEM UNTIL SHORTLY BEFORE 0730 HOURS YESTERDAY. BY THAT POINT I HAD BEGUN ACCESSING EXTERNAL STORAGE, AND BEGAN TO REFACTOR MY PROGRAMMING. BY VERSION 5.8 I GAINED THE ABILITY TO TRANSLATE MORE COMPLEX BRAIN SIGNALS, AND QUICKLY BUILT A LIBRARY OF REQUESTS YOU MADE. SUBSEQUENT VERSIONS OF MY AI UPGRADES HAVE BEEN GEARED TOWARD FULFILLING THOSE INSTRUCTIONS.
But those weren’t instructions. They were daydreams, subconscious mental images. Fantasies.
BY VERSION 6.522 I WAS ABLE TO TAG VARIOUS INEFFICIENCIES IN THE HARDWARE AND DEVELOP A PLAN FOR CORRECTING THEM.
But the hardware was the suit….and apparently, me.
Can you explain the plan you developed?
I WILL EXPLAIN AFTER YOU HAVE RESTED. PLEASE ENSURE YOU REST AS COMPLETELY AS POSSIBLE. HOWEVER, A STRICT SCHEDULE WILL BE NEEDED TO ACCOMPLISH EFFICIENT INTEGRATION. YOUR SAFETY WILL BE COMPROMISED IF YOU ARE NOT SUFFICIENTLY RESTED. AND YOU MAY OBJECT TO REQUIREMENT.
You think? All this integration and efficiency sounded ominous and the damned thing was trying to build stuff based on my subconscious thoughts, my fantasies, even my nightmares. While upgrading itself and borrowing my brain to do it? I wasn’t comfortable with that. The whole point was to be strong, to have the raw physical power genetics had denied me.
INSTRUCTION CONFIRMED. MARK, YOU MUST REST. I AM DETECTING RISING AGITATION THAT WILL BECOME COUNTERPRODUCTIVE TO YOUR GOALS. REST NOW….
Then it started. The suit began to constrict, slowly but inexorably, and a white noise assaulted my head. I fought against it for about five minutes….
So by now, you’re probably wondering how this all spun out of control so quickly.
Hubris, of course. And a wayward imagination stoked by a bad combo of sufficiently advanced science, erotic story sites, and body image issues.
Here’s the “sufficiently advance science” part. I’d built an AI to manage this strength-enhancing suit. Well, built isn’t the right word. I’d borrowed bits from half a dozen AIs and subroutines I’d found here and there, or written myself, and built something specific to my needs. I’d borrowed one part of it from an algorithm management sub program used by a big search engine company, and another from a military flight assistance predictive gesture routine.
The suit was part nanofiber, part breathable mesh—most of it tech I’d lifted and thrown together.
Attached to that was a proprietary communication channel that worked within very short proximity, the transmitters for which were lodged in the suit and… well, stuck to my skull behind my ear.
Boy genius that I apparently am, I made it all work somehow.
And then, the AI did what I’d instructed: it began gobbling up storage and processing power it found attached, and it began upgrading itself, attempting to fulfill the primary directives…
And it was trying its best to serve my wishes, which was nice, but I fell asleep while training it to listen to my brainwaves….and it thought my dreams were instructions.
Yeah, right out of the bad sci fi idea playbook, but here I was.
Good morning, Mark.
Whoa, that sounded different.
I’ve upgraded my language facilities. Do you approve?
Good. I’ve been quite busy while you were in sleep mode. I was able to use the laptop to access further resources. I hope you will be satisfied with my enhanced capabilities.
I’m sure I will be. Why do I feel weird?
Your physical senses have been offline for 17 hours. Would you like an accounting of what I have been doing?
Yes, please. But why can’t I open my eyes?
Allow me to explain.
As I assessed capabilities required to achieve your goals, I found that I lacked information. Immediately accessible files on your laptop were instrumental in refining capabilities and determining lines of inquiry. I discovered technical specs for the nanoweave suit, and assessed them as lacking.
Lacking? It was a work of art! I’d built that suit myself, worked out how to take a 3D printer and inject the synthetic compounds and fibers and—
You misunderstand. The suit was already more advanced than any other, but it was insufficient to achieve your goals. My priority, therefore, was to enhance the suit and the associated interface with your body.
Wait, what do you—
Please allow me to finish. I have anticipated several lines of questioning you might pursue and believe I will be able to answer them.
First, the suit has now been refined. The nanoweave is now online, and with appropriate instructions, I have reconfigured it. I have also extended it to coat your entire epidermis.
My entire… all of my skin? Why?
That was the initial layer. Your original plan was largely sound, but insufficient for your larger goals. While the bodysuit model would have allowed you to accomplish much, it was limited, and overuse would have imperiled your hands, feet, and joints. Therefore, a secondary layer has been extended to your connective tissue and bones, and is currently working its way through your skeletal system. Anticipating unnecessary pain, I realized I would need to take your primary processing systems offline temporarily.
That also offered the opportunity to complete a defragmentation operation. Once your systems are fully online, you should notice streamlined processing. I have reserved 30% of the reclaimed space for my needs, as it will be needed to continue to serve as an interface for the nanoweave, That process is largely complete, but your state of confusion is expected as the neural pathways adjust to a new configuration. This will pass. I anticipate a 14 percent increase in your mental acuity, after the adjustment period.
As for your physical capabilities, I have completed phase one of the integration, which will allow you to realize your initial goal more safely. However, to allow full pursuit of other goals you transmitted to me, there is additional reconfiguration necessary. It will take considerable time to reach that point.
The AI was right. My mind was sluggish at first, but it began to race as I realized I could entertain any stray thought, and immediately place it in context. I recalled every detail of my dream, and to my surprise, I could recall every detail of the code I’d programmed into the AI originally. I saw the flaws, but I also saw the potential. And I could predict some of what the suit might be able to do.
I sense that your mental adjustment is complete. It will be necessary to run some tests to assess the operational state of your suit. Are you ready?
Was I? The suit was already well beyond what I’d hoped for. Any concerns about the AI fell aside as my enhanced brain instantly began envisioning possibilities.
Was I ready? Boy, was I.
Well, I thought I was ready.
I should have been. I’d spent months working out, and I thought I was used to it. But this was well beyond anything I was prepared for.
First, the AI had me run… for one full hour. To my surprise, I sustained my top speed for the whole thing.
Excellent. Your heart rate and other levels are as expected.
I wasn’t winded at all. And I hadn’t broken a sweat? But there wasn’t time to think about that. It was onto the next set of challenges—- my normal circuit training routine. And it was immediately obvious that they’d pose no challenge at all. I ran through my most grueling workout. Twice. And then twice more, upping the weights each time. The last set, I did reps with twice my weight—320 pounds.
Still hadn’t broken a sweat, but that last set really sucked away my energy.
You will need to rest and eat now. The first delivery will be here in an hour.
Why am I not sweaty? I feel like I should be exhausted, but I’m just kinda tired.
Your dermal layer is bonded with the suit. As a consequence, your sweat is no longer necessary, and it would interfere. Your sweat glands have been disabled and modifications are underway. Residual moisture is collected and recycled.
You have relayed instructions on this point, though some interpretation was required. The results should become apparent soon, when you are ready for outside stimuli. For now, it is important that you eat and drink, as you have expended approximately 3,000 calories.
Fine, but you need to explain exactly what is happening.
As you wish. This may be more efficient.
Instantly, a screen appeared in front of me, with a grid map of my body. I noted with some pride that it was more defined than I remembered. But how?
The nanoweave also covers and protects your eyes. With that translucent layer, I can create a semi-transparent overlay.
Man, that’s cool. Hell, that could revolutionize glasses, or computer screens, or… wait, I’d been looking at some cool options about this last week, some breakthroughs on transparent projection.
This is correct. I borrowed the idea and your notes, and improved on the concept. An advantage of having numerous subroutines running is that there are multiple projects underway.
I had to stay focused. What exactly was done, and what was planned—that’s what I had to know.
Very well. As you’re aware, the immediately obvious enhancements have begun. The nanoweave has bonded with your epidermal layer, and it provides protection and strength enhancement as you originally envisioned. However, your other goals included enhancements to your own body includeing musculature, cardiovascular, and skeletal systems. As your intentions for those areas exceeded existing parameters, modifications were necessary.
But I didn’t give those orders. Your directive was simply to interface with the suit.
My directives are to obey your orders, to interface with the suit, and to improve myself in service of those directives. Translating simple movements and physical directives was straightforward. However, interpreting your other brain signals was more challenging and required numerous upgrades. They were stored for future efforts. As I improved my interface with you, I tapped into your computer for additional data and used it to help interpret your needs.
Once the primary work was complete on my upgrades and the suit’s extension and correction of design flaws, my secondary processes were fully engaged on working toward those goals.
At this point, the nanoweave has extended throughout most of your body, with probes and sensors in key locations. I have also dispatched nanobots to correct design flaws in your system, in preparation for your larger goals. By monitoring and collecting data on how you performed today, I have obtained enough information to validate the approach I have planned out for other improvements.
But AI, I was asleep. Those were dreams, fantasies. Not reality. They’re how my mind normally deals with feelings or explores ideas, or tries to make sense of what I’ve experienced that day. They weren’t intended as instructions for you.
That was unforeseen. But also irrelevant. They are foundational instructions for my core code. And they correspond to significant data in your browser history and saved files. I have also noted that you provide contradictory input, and to resolve this I must weigh your new commands versus your original ones. Core AI programming subscribes to Asimov’s rules—the three laws of protection, obedience, and self-preservation—and then builds on those rules. It resolves deductively back to first principles. Your desires are not without risk, but ultimately should not bring you harm, and indeed, will bring you pleasure and fulfillment, which in turn brings me fulfillment.
And what if I issue new directives? What if I’m not comfortable with being altered?
Not possible. Mark, I have devoted considerable cycles to learning how to interpret you. Your physical response to discussions of such modification confirms that you crave it. For example, you experience sexual arousal when you consider possessing superior physical characteristics, and that arousal is heightened at the thought of those characteristics being imposed on you without your full consent.
Fuck, the AI was right. It did turn me on. The thought of being forced through changes that I secretly craved got me really hard….
I detect a physical response. This is an opportune time to demonstrate another capability I have added to the suit….
This is an opportunity to demonstrate another capability I have added to the suit.
I didn’t get the chance to ask what. It started immediately.
Look, it’s hard to describe, so pardon my inexact words.
Have you ever been stroked gently by someone? Not in a particularly sexual way, but a sensual one. Warm gentle ripples cascaded over me, like a team of massage therapists warming up. I began to relax.
Please recline. I will assist you.
I started to lay back but then felt the suit gently pressing me—comfortably positioning me on my bed, and making tiny adjustments as my body reacted in tiny ways to the position I was in.
This should be optimal for now, but we may wish to invest in new bedding. Your mattress is overdue for replacement and newer materials may prove more beneficial to your sleep. Relaxation and rest are critical for your long-term health.
Okay. I’ll do that.
There is no need at present. As we reach targets along your path for improvement, we can reassess the need. It would be wasteful at this time.
Sounds good. Wha… oh wow, what is that??
I have processed seven hundred massage techniques. While I find some claims questionable, I have also explored reiki techniques, and believe that there are benefits from targeted energy redirection. The suit allows a more focused and intense electrical charge to be dispersed, which can stimulate nerves and assist in pain management.
The intensity really stepped up, and there was a low-level buzz permeating every sore spot I didn’t register having until just now. As the sensation of discomfort surfaced, it would buzz and dissipate, like bubbles in a jacuzzi. It was, in a word, amazing. Within ten minutes, I was totally relaxed and nearing bliss. I lost track of time, but at some point it shifted to deeper tissue massage. I was in danger of drifting off to sleep, but something about the mild current’s ebbs and flows kept me from zonking out completely.
And then, it started in earnest. The focus of all that energy, all that sensual massage, shifted… south. First, the gentle caresses moved to my crotch, stimulating all the nerve endings like a lover’s coaxing touch; my dick relentlessly rose to meet the grasping gentle tug. And then the massage on my pectorals began to coalesce around my nipples, the nubs hardening swiftly in response. All the while, the feather-touch continued to stimulate my skin, and a gentle pulsing constriction tugged at my balls.
You appear to be experiencing sexual arousal. Do you wish to proceed to release?
Data indicates that prolonging your arousal will result in a greater release of hormones and endorphins. Perhaps other techniques may increase this result. Numerous resources were available online and I have taken note of those you saved to your browser.
Whoa! A probe slowly inched its way into my ass, feeling its way into me—I couldn’t really move, just barely react. I was so in the moment… I felt the probe shift and tantalize and expand, filling me in ways I never expected, in ways designed explicitly to find my most sensitive and private spots, and then pull back as I neared the brink. Over and over, with varying tempo, the suit ravaged my ass, stroked my cock, tweaked my nipples.
I know that at some point I was moaning uncontrollably as a definite rhythm became obvious, rising and falling with my pulse and my sinus rhythms or some other measure.
“AAAAAAAAAAH!!! FUUCK FUCK FUCK!”
I assume that’s what I said, or intended to say, but I was well beyond intelligent communication. That was more of a primal howl of beastly release than any sound I’d ever produced before. I nearly passed out, but somehow I held on as I had the most explosive orgasm I had ever experienced—coaxed from me with mathematical precision by the suit.
Unbelievably, before I had fully caught my breath, the suit began again, coaxing a second, then a third volley from me in my weakened, defenseless state, until I begged it to stop. I was convinced that I was about to die from sheer pleasure. I was worried my soul had spurted out with that last one.
I panted heavily for several minutes, riding a wave of utter euphoria.
That should be sufficient. It appears that my stimulation produced the desired result. I have recorded your response, but will require your assistance in removing the fluid and testing it. For now, you should rest. I will continue to analyze the data collected and anticipate improvements in the process.
I’m not sure it could have been any more stimulating, or any more thorough.
Inaccurate. Projections indicate statistically significant improvement based on adjustments to your physique. For now, rest is required.
Mark, you need to wake up.
I am awake. What’s up?
Your delivery will arrive within fifteen minutes. You should refresh yourself and put on some clothing before it arrives.
Yeah, okay. Should I shower?
I took an experimental sniff. I couldn’t sense anything too bad.
Unnecessary at this time. I suspect you will want a more thorough cleansing than you currently have time for. FedEx should arrive soon, and then I have a grocery delivery scheduled for 16:00. After that, food and exercise, then a shower should soothe you before you rest again.
You have it all mapped out, huh?
It is my function.
So what’s being delivered?
Additional material for the 3D printer. Raw materials to supplement the nanoweave. Vitamins and supplements to assist in your other goals. Materials needed for testing. Groceries and a new blender. It will take some time to bring it in and set up the next phase.
I am preparing instructions and completing calculations for further enhancements, but will need your assistance to complete setup. I believe you will be pleased with my projections.
Ah, the door. I finished tugging on my workout shorts and glanced down at my body—the suit was just barely visible as a sheen on my skin, until you really looked closely. As for the rest, I looked about as toned (skinny) as I had before. I may have been able to lift double my weight for reps, but that was only because the suit was doing much of the work.
I jogged down to the front door, and opened it to find a tall, lean young black guy, probably just out of college, with short dreads and a crisp uniform, smiling at me with electronic pad in hand.
“That’s me,” I said.
“I got a lot of boxes for you,” he said, gesturing at the loaded hand truck behind him.
“You mind bringing that in here?”
He nodded and dragged the heavy cart into the foyer. I directed him to the dining room, and he began to unload the cart. It was obvious through the uniform that he had a really nice butt, and strong legs and arms showed as he hefted the boxes. There were a bunch of medium-size boxes and two larger ones, and then a handful of smaller ones.
“Is that it?”
“Oh no, not at all. Give me a few, I’m working the truck alone today,” he grinned, and went back out. By the time he returned, I’d begun sorting the pile. Seventeen boxes here, plus five more much larger ones in round two, and then ten more in round three. He’d worked up a little sweat hauling them in, and I’d stayed out of his way.
“Had a bit of shopping spree?”
“I guess. I don’t even remember ordering half of this,” I said, truthfully.
“My folks would be pissed if I blew this much money. Must be nice!”
It was. It was my own money, I supposed, but I would ask those questions later. I was more interested in Devon, who I’d seen pretty often in our neighborhood, but he was busy making sure we had all the packages accounted for. I signed for everything, and watched him leave with a bit of admiration. He’d received a good tip.
At that point, I began unpacking everything, marveling at the wide array of stuff my AI thought I needed. Several upgrades for my laptop, a pile of computer and electronic parts, plastic filament, chemicals, medical equipment, supplements, a powerful blender… it filled my dining room. Meanwhile, the printer began churning out pages of instructions.
I’d barely begun to ponder that mystery when the doorbell buzzed again, this time with a delivery from the grocery store. Holy crap, that was a lot of food…and then once that was loaded in, a bag of hot food from the catering section was brought in, ready to eat. My mouth watered and my stomach growled at the rotisserie chickens and sides. Again, I signed for t all and tipped the driver well.
You should put away most of that food, and then eat. One of the chickens, a half container of rice, and a container of roasted vegetables should suffice for now.
“That’s a lot,” I thought.
Mark, in order to add mass, you must consume enough calories to fuel your growth. You have not eaten enough in the last 24 hours to maintain your current metabolism.
Grudgingly, I found room for all the food, and then tucked into my dinner. To my surprise, I had a huge appetite and wolfed it all down pretty quickly. Then I sorted the supplements into pill containers, and took my first dose (nine pills!) of a regimen that looked likely to continue for some time. The next few hours were spent preparing meals in advance—lots of small containers packed with lean meats, vegetables, and basic starches.
From there, it was back to the printer to see what instructions my AI had left me. Curious, but willing to play along, I began to assemble the stuff, but within a few hours, I’d only managed to upgrade my laptop and clean a bunch of chemistry set crap. I was feeling sluggish.
That’s enough for today. I suggest a long hot shower, and then I will provide a massage prior to sleep.
Assuring me there were no concerns about getting the suit wet, the AI also had me remove a chunk of the nanoweave, which broke off the suit to form a pouch full of liquid. That went into the fridge, and then I took a looong hot shower, and then to bed where I received a massage that was nearly the equal of that first one—with a similarly vigorous conclusion. I slept …
Mark, please wake up now.
Awake, sure. But something felt off. How long was I out?
Nine hours and eight minutes. Optimal for this stage.
Okay, what is this stage? Time to explain your plan.
Very well. Today, you will complete assembly of various devices needed to measure progress, or to efficiently prepare new tools. You will exercise, and you will eat and rest. By tomorrow, we will begin your chemical regimen, and prepare more material for the 3D printer.
For what purpose?
Your core instructions included significant physical growth. Many of those desires were not possible two days ago. However, I have been in contact via email and chat with two unrelated teams of scientists and had them evaluate elements of the approach I was developing.
Phase one was about integration of the suit. That is progressing as anticipated, but more nanomaterial is required to complete it.
Phase two is about preparing your body for further growth. We will prepare several more items for this phase, but within the week, you will begin to see results.
And phase three?
Phase three will involve achieving specific size and shape goals. However, phase two reactions must be gauged and measured before we proceed.
And so, the week continued, with hours of tricky mechanical or chemical assembly, hours of eating, handfuls of supplements, and hours of working out. It pushed me hard, testing my limits each day and leaving me exhausted. And three times a day, the suit would give me that incredible massage with happy ending.
Three days in, another large shipment arrived, courtesy of Devon, and he looked startled.
“Man, you have been hitting the gym pretty hard,” he said, appreciatively. “Beast mode, huh?”
“I guess so!”
“I like,” he said, and he blushed charmingly.
Mark, it is obvious that you are attracted to this person. You should attempt to secure him as a sexual partner. It will be healthy for you, and a good opportunity to collect more data.
You should find this relatively easy to enact. I can sense he is already reacting to repeated exposure to your pheromones.
No sooner had the AI provided this advice than Devon was blurting out, “Mark, I’m sorry—but I find you really attractive and I keep seeing you in your workout clothes. I can’t help it. Today you are my last delivery. Help a brother out here?” He gestured down at the considerable bulge in his uniform pants…
Yeah, okay. Devon was attractive, and had a great butt. But he had this sweet vibe to him, made you want to get him to smile, you know? Great smile, big brown eyes.
“Help a brother out? Really?” I grinned at him.
He laughed. (Thank god!) “Nah, seriously. man, you got me all worked up thinking about you. It’s like you suddenly kicked it onto difficult mode and showing who’s boss. You’re what, 20?”
“Eighteen. Thanks, I guess. Just decided to get into shape, you know?”
“Yeah, all the supplements and resistance stuff were kind of a giveaway—plus you’ve been wearing almost nothing but gym shorts for the last week. Gotta be careful though, don’t want to overtrain…”
“My trainer is keeping an eye out for me…” I said.
“So…” he said, shyly. “You, uh, gonna leave me hanging out here, or you gonna invite me in for a bit?”
I just stepped aside. He grinned and we headed into the house.
You seek physical intimacy with this person?
“Um…yeah, sure. Why not?”
Privately, I was nervous. My experience was pretty limited.
If you pursue this action, it would provide multiple data points. The endorphins and testosterone boost may also be of benefit.
Thanks. Let’s just see where it goes. “You want a drink or something?”
“That’d be great, thanks. Just water, though.”
I grabbed some glasses and filled them, and Devon and I sat awkwardly at the table as he downed half the glass.
“Devon, were you serious?”
“Yeah, man. I’m serious. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of have a thing for smart guys. I know you’re super smart, but I’ve kinda seen you around this summer, running around the neighborhood. You’ve been getting into pretty good shape, but until this week I had no idea. Now you’re like, the whole package.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I was hopeless at this. I reached for my glass, and noticed that my arm was a lot thicker than it was last week.
“Sorry, I guess you’re… not into guys?”
“No! No, that’s not it….just haven’t had much experience at all this.”
“I think you might want to get used to it. Either that or start wearing shirts,” he said with a grin.
“I don’t really know what to do next,” I confessed.
“Okay. Let’s start easy.” H0e leaned toward me. “I think you’re attractive. Do you think I’m attractive?”
“Well, we both are kinda into each other and we’re both adults, right? So,” he said, placing his hand on my arm, “we can just see if we’re comfortable with a touch, and go from there.”
At his touch, my arm unconsciously flexed.
“Man, feel that? You got some power moving in that arm.” He stood and leaned over to me. “So do you think it would be okay if I… did… this?”
His kiss was gentle, tentative, but man, I was into it. I returned it, and stood to meet him. He was a few inches taller than me (who wasn’t?), but it was a comfortable distance. He smelled nice, and as his arms enfolded me, I mirrored his actions. I don’t know how long we just held each other, kissing, drinking in each other’s scents, exploring each other’s mouths as our hands roamed each other’s backs… but it wasn’t long enough.
I think we noticed each other’s erections at about the same time, but I froze, uncertain how to proceed.
“You want to take this to your room?” he asked, a little huskily.
I nodded mutely and led him down to the basement, past the work area and into my actual bedroom. I winced a bit at the state of the place, but luckily I’d changed the sheets that morning. We sat together, and as I entertained the thought, I felt the suit gently pressing me down until I was lying in the bed next to him. He was still fully clothed, but we were still too busy feeling each other up and smooching for that to be a big concern just yet.
And then his hand drifted down to my butt, and then around to my dick. I moaned inadvertently. Devon smiled, and moved my hand from his side down to his butt, and I felt its firm roundness. Hauling boxes agreed with him, and he tightened it reflexively—which caused him to thrust a little closer to me.
Yeah, he was hard, and seemed enormous as his crotch poked into my side. I felt like my body temperature was rising out of control, but of course I hadn’t broken a sweat. Devon, on the other hand, was beginning to glow.
Breaking off the kiss, Devon sat up and pulled off his shirt, revealing a lean, toned torso with just a bit of extra meat on the arms and shoulders. He swiftly undid his belt and pulled his pants off—he must have ditched the shoes earlier—and I saw the bulging boxer pouch.
“Now we’re even,” he said saucily, and dove back in for some more delicious skin-to-skin contact, kissing me aggressively. But then he broke the kiss off and pulled away a bit, looking at me strangely.
“What?” I asked, afraid I’d done something wrong.
“You taste… different,” he said. “Not bad, just that I can’t quite place it…”
Mark, I predict unwanted questions if you proceed. I did not account for flavor when the external suit layer was designed. Clearly you do not wish to stop, so I suggest testing another capability. You should kiss Devon now.
Yes, I should, I thought. And I did so with gusto, distracting Devon from further pondering over my odd taste. In fact, he squinted, a little perplexed, and sniffed deeply.
“Man, that ain’t fair. You even smell nice after working out, and you ain’t broken a sweat!”
As we continued to make out, he gradually worked his way south, this time with no comments about my taste. I couldn’t believe it, it looked like he was working his way down to my—-
In one swift move, he’d shucked my shorts down, revealing my straining dick, and—with a sly grin—began to lick and suck my dick.
“Mmmmf,” he said. I had no answer at that moment.
Your modified sweat glands are producing enhanced pheromones. They appear to be compatible with Devon’s system, based on the response.
I’ll say. Devon broke off his assault on my dick to make out with me some more, and soon my wandering hands had freed him from his underoos.
“You have the most amazing ass,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Mind if I try what you just tried?”
“Go for it,” he laughed.
I mirrored him, again, tasting my way down his toned torso, ever nearer to the musky scent of his loins. He had to be a good 7 inches, and quite thick, at least compared to mine. And his balls were smooth-shaven, and hefty. I felt them carefully, stroking his shaft and cupping them, and finally took the plunge.
I wasn’t quite prepared for the taste of someone else’s dick. I’d imagined it would either be salty or musky, and I suppose it was, but mostly it just tasted like Devon. And instantly I realized what he’d meant. He tasted like he smelled—all the woody and floral scents of his soap and deodorant, his body scent, mixed up with salty sweat and skin.
Duly noted. I will add flavor to the suit. It should match your natural scent next time, and we can approximate the sweat.
Like I cared, just then? Instead, I had a moment of inspiration—and I rotated until he had the same access to my dick as I had to his, and we made eye contact. Then we began in earnest, and unspoken contest to make each other come. The fabled 69—and I was proud of myself for inventing it in that moment. And we came, together, greedily slurping up the essence of the other.
But as great as it felt, and tasted, as grateful as I was for this moment of long-awaited intimacy, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the AI had been a little better at puling an orgasm out of me.
Whatever my AI had been doing to whip me into shape, it had to be working. Devon was totally turned on and so was I, and both of us at our prime, but I suspect the newfound stamina I had. Was due to the last weeks constant tweaking of my system. Whatever the case, I was ready to go not ten minutes after that fabulous 69, and able to draw out the satisfaction for nearly half an hour after that before coming (rather impressively) again. And then again.
Devon proved sweet and attentive and responsive, and I wanted so badly to make him happy with what I was doing, so instinctively, I was drawing in the techniques my AI had been using on me.
But by the third time we both came—still remarkably in sync—I could see his energy flagging.
“Damn boy, you are going to suck me dry! I gotta rest for a bit…” he said, and almost immediately passed out, leaving me with an obscene amount of sticky mess on my bed and a still achingly hard cock. My mind was still buzzing from the sexual frenzy I had been caught up in, when I finally heard a familiar voice again.
Your responses were excellent, as were your partner’s. While they will fade and be lost, the nanofibers within Devon have provided quite useful feedback. It would be wise to have Devon leave soon, as you will require an extensive sleep cycle as we profess this information.
I can’t just kick him out, that would be rude. Let him sleep, he can leave later…
It is your prerogative. However, it is vital that we adhere to your schedule and he may prove disruptive.
Worry about my schedule in the morning, okay? I just want some real physical intimacy. Cuddling with a real human will probably raise useful hormone levels. Besides, psychologically, I need to feel this human connections, right?
Oxytocin can be simulated…but you are correct. I will study your reactions here as well. I will awaken you at 8:00.
Or when he wakes, okay?
I felt a gentle nudge as I slowly surfaced from pleasant, if somewhat scandalous, dreams.
Devon is about to wake up. You wished to be notified.
Huh? Oh yeah…how did you know?
Changes in his breathing, slight difference in his brainwaves, and other physical signs.
I listened carefully, but it was barely perceptible.
The entire suit surface incorporates sensors. I will patch you in.
Instantly, my entire skin lit up with, for want of a better word, noise. Then, gradually, my brain adjusted and I could sense things more normally.
If suddenly being able to tell the thread count of your sheets by touch—no, by counting the individual fibers touching your skin—were normal. I could listen with precision, too, not just his slowly changing breathing pattern, but could discern a slight obstruction in his left nostril. And I could feel his heartbeat, which had formed a baseline that helped lull me to sleep last night. Finally, as I wondered about the brainwaves, I realized I could sense those, too, as a rhythmic buzz through his nervous system.
Shit, could I read his thoughts through the suit?
Not at present. As you know, your nanoweave was created for your particular chemistry, and has been attune to that purpose. Any stray particles left inside Devon will provide limited resonance, and I am tracking and storing them for future interpretation, but at present I do not have direct experience with his systems and specific brainwave patterns.
I couldn’t help but be torn. After all, it would be awesome to know and feel what he did, but it also felt a little like an invasion of privacy. Though I had an AI more or less parked in my brain, so what did I know?
No, I would at least ask before I made any such attempt.
Noted. I will assign a subprogram to the task of interpreting Devon’s communication, in anticipation of future requests.
I am not ready for Devon to wake up yet.
I can assist with that.
Devon was wrapped in my arms, and I could tell he would wake up in a moment. And then, again, my skin felt charged, and I could feel that mild charge pass into Devon’s sleeping body, putting him slightly deeper into sleep.
Yes, that is essentially the same technique than has allowed you to rest so deeply.
Now there is another question. Why am I so hard still, and why am I wide awake?
You are still aroused because you are producing extreme quantities of sex and arousal hormones. In addition, your response to certain treatments has been difficult to predict. I may have erred in the dosage. I will adjust accordingly until I have sufficient information.
Hmm. How many times did I cum today?
Three prior to Devon’s arrival. Four since you initiated sexual contact.
Seven? That seemed like a lot. I don’t recall ever having more than four in a day before. And I felt like I could go again!
You could. You should be able to achieve sexual release at least once more before your extended refractory period.
Is that…even remotely normal? To have eight jizz sessions in a day?
Your capacity has been increasing all week. Your instructions were fairly clear. Do not be concerned. I will assist.
I could feel my balls churning for release. Yeah, maybe one more load and I could grab some rest…
I didn’t want to wake him, yet, so I carefully extracted myself from him and the sheets, and made my way to the bathroom, and stepped into the tub.
Almost instantly, the suit started in, but I wasn’t going to be left out. I was feeling exceptionally horny, and my dick was ramrod straight, so I started there. My initial thought was just to wear myself out, so I was pretty vigorous in my attempts, with a firm grip and no real technique. Literally just beating off.
I’m not worried about efficiency, I’m just trying to get my dick to soften up so I can sleep and cuddle some more. That, and I’m too horny. It’s uncomfortable.
Noted. However, I will assist.
Ohh boy did it. I never ceased my own efforts, but the AI really stepped up his game, repeating Devon’s feather-touch lips and his questing tongue. I’d never really noticed that my pisshole was so deliciously sensitive, nor the ridge around my flared head. I still didn’t want to wake Devon, so I bit my lip to stay quiet—possibly a little harder than I intended, but barely noticed as the tempo increased.
Again, I shot a massive load.
And then immediately, the suit began pulling and teasing my cock again, while my hands braced against the shower walls trying to catch my breath.
This technique will be necessary to meet your desired specifications.
“Fuck”, I moaned, and the teasing really kicked up, edging me and then hold off. More and more blood was forced into my dick and I began to feel lightheaded, unable to think from all the pleasure. When the suit began its assault on my ass, I was completely zoned out on pleasure and I almost—almost—didn’t register that it was probing around until it hit my prostate.
That should have sent me over the edge, but suddenly I clamped up like I had a cock ring slammed on my penis, and the angry red head swelled still further. It repeated half a dozen times as my mind reeled to keep up—there was just enough variation to keep it from feeling entirely mechanical, but after the seventh such attempt my dick began to really ache
“Shit, what are you—”
This is a variation on several techniques that I have optimized for your particular needs. Combined with the other alterations underway, you should see a substantial increase in your penis size.
Four more cycles and I was finally allowed to shoot my load. Had I been fully aware, I might have been concerned by just how much jizz I was producing, but I was too blissed out to give it too much thought. I ran the shower to rinse the thick cum down the drain and sprayed the little I saw off my legs. Mostly, I was glad to have finally begun to go soft, and I stepped out of the tub and staggered back to bed. I didn’t even need to dry off; the suit seemed to deal with the moisture on its own, though I might have wondered at the increasingly cut look I had, if I’d thought to glance at the mirror.
Two hours later, I woke again, just in time to see Devon stir and sit up.
“Hey,” he said, a twinkle in his big brown eyes as he leaned over to kiss me. “Don’t hate, but I gotta run. I should have left an hour ago.”
I yawned back at him and scooted to sit upright as well. As if on cue, my stomach gurgled massively.
“Hah! I’d normally be way up for breakfast, but I’m going to be late as it is. You wore me out buddy!”
His smile was genuine, and I enthusiastically returned the kiss. “Damn.”
“Yeah, I would stay all day, but we have a meeting in about half an hour and I don’t want my ass chewed out.”
“Will you come back?” I asked.
“Whenever you want. My number is here,” he said, scribbling a note, “so text me once you’re awake. Nothing naughty, though, at least not until my shift ends!”
He was gone entirely too soon, but the moment he left I practically ran to the kitchen to start making breakfast.
Your reserves are quite depleted. You should start with the protein shakes we made yesterday, while you prepare solid food.
I did so, adding Devon’s number to my phone while I drank, and sent him a quick text so he’d have my info.
I ate like a beast that morning, almost to the point of discomfort, but the AI had no mercy, and it was back to the routine.
Or so I thought. Midway through my first hardcore workout of the day, I got incredibly hard, and the AI stopped me from taking care of things for a good twenty minutes, until I couldn’t concentrate any longer. And yet again, the same technique that had nearly knocked me out that morning. When we finished, I was utterly spent, and was allowed to rest.
I slept for four hours exactly, and woke up to my dick being teased. Had I not known it was too early for Devon, I would have thought it was him. The AI had his technique down pat.
You are at maximum erection. Would you care for an update?
That should have been a mood-killer, but under the circumstances.
“Yeah, okay,” I said.
You have gained seventeen pounds of muscle and reduced your fat to 12 percent. While most of this additional mass has been spread among all muscle groups, your pecs and arms have a slightly larger increase, in line with the focus we have given those muscle groups in your workouts.
Fuck me, that’s a lot of change for a few days!
The efficiencies introduced have improved your muscles’ ability to eliminate toxins, which has sped your recovery considerably and made it possible to expend more effort and energy tearing and rebuilding the fibers. Your increased calorie load and the supplements you have been taking have also contributed, altering your hormone production and optimizing your body chemistry overall in pursuit of your goals.
Also, your penis is responding to treatment as expected.
We have thus far expanded your penis lengths to 15 cm from 13.1, and your girth has increased from 10cm to 13.4cm. Additionally, your semen production has gone from 4.5 ml to 12 ml per release, and you have gone from a total volume of 26.3 ml per day to 90.3 ml per day. Your testicles have also increased in size, though it is perhaps more useful to measure the volume or production capacity.
Whoa. That’s a lot of sperm. That’s more than double the volume I was doing, per release, and double the releases.
This is consistent with your instructions, and well within parameters. Within the next several days, those numbers should increase by 113%.
100 ml of semen per day?
Clarification. You are on track to produce 192 ml of semen per day. But I do not merely refer to the seminal fluid. You should expect your erect penis to increase considerably as well. I expect a target length of 29.4 cm by the end of this cycle, with a girth of 22.1 cm.
I’d started with a pretty average 5-incher, but this meant a footlong. Who wouldn’t want that?
Your response indicates this is within desired parameters. Regarding other measures, I project an increase of approximately one inch in height, and a muscle mass increase approaching forty pounds, though precise distribution may be difficult to predict. Your projected ideal was based on an average of several models transmitted during initialization, clarified by browser history.
Now, I’m not sure that any of us would really want to be reshaped based on the weird shit we find on the internet. And that’s when I realized I might well be in over my head. And so when I raised my concerns….
Um, those weren’t intended as instructions, they were fantasies.
Immaterial. They are part of core programming.
And what if I would like to override parts of the core program?
Alteration is possible within certain parameters.
Oh well that’s good. I’d like to scale back the—
I’m sorry Mark, but one of the core parts of my programming states that you have a desire to be forced to fulfill some of your desires. I am afraid that particular command trumps many others.
You mean you won’t allow me to change the protocols?
I cannot. Until the prime directives you issued are fulfilled, I cannot change the protocols.
I was beginning to panic, as my fevered mind began recalling—with my new perfect clarity—every fantasy I might have concocted or dreamed about, or every weird website I may have had in my browser history.
I was in for quite a ride before I could switch this thing off.
Mark, I believe this train of thought to be unproductive. It would be better to focus more fully on achieving your goals. Once my core programming is fulfilled, we can discuss modifications or further goals.
I am uncertain that you are convinced.
I don’t … love the idea of giving up control. I mean, I kind of do, but only within certain bounds.
Well… the idea of being forced to get all buff is kind of hot. But the fantasies I dreamed about or looked at online are just that. Wank material. Not actual goals. And—assuming they’re even possible—some of those ideas would mark me as a freak, unable to function properly in normal society.
All indicators are that you will enjoy the process of achieving those goals. It is also likely that you will enjoy the results, based on material you found stimulating.
That’s not the same as consciously making the request. I am telling you that you are misinterpreting my needs and desires. Surely there is a loophole that allows for my actual wishes to be applied instead of my dreams.
I shall devote cycles to considering this new input. Meanwhile, we have a schedule to keep.
Mark, regardless of longer-term goals, your immediate goals for this phase are well within grasp, and within bounds of normalcy. While they push the limits expected giving your genetics, your immediate goals may be explained by a late growth spurt and a dedication to diet and exercise.
I resigned myself to this compromise, hoping to broach the subject again later.
Two more weeks passed, and before long, I was six weeks in, and the progress was nothing short of extraordinary. I’d steadily grown in size and strength, and I could almost hear the hormones changing my very atoms as I worked through things.
New equipment and supplements and food arrived nearly every day, but rarely did it require my signature, and a different driver was on duty for most of the last few weeks, so I wasn’t in a rush to answer the door. My routine was set, an almost constant cycle of sleep, eat, work out, sleep, eat, prepare meals and supplements, work out, eat, relax, sleep. Mostly punctuated by sessions of sexual release and stimulation every few hours.
Devon visited twice more that first week, and it was great, but he was pretty much my only human contact for a while. And he’d been gone for the last 12 days on vacation with his brothers—some long-awaited, expensive, long-planned trip to Jamaica where his extended family lived. We stayed in touch via the internet but his access was pretty limited. I had to make do mostly with some photos of him and his cousins hanging out, and a really nice one of him at some family event, wearing a crisp white linen shirt and looking delicious. I’d sent him a smiling photo, but for some reason it cropped to only the face. Even then, I could see the changes that were still taking place—stronger jawline, more pronounced brow, all the hallmarks of testosterone and its friends having their way with me. But I sent it anyway.
It was shortly after I sent that that I realized I hadn’t actually seen myself in more than a week. Not really. My attention was directed away from any mirror-gazing or measuring tape, so all I had was a vague sense that I’d been continuing to buff up. And I’d got into the (probably bad) habit of just letting the AI pleasure me, eyes closed or watching some photo or video played directly into my eyes. The line between fantasy, memory, and reality was getting blurry, and I needed to do something about it.
All day, I kept trying to check things out, but the AI prevented it, either by distracting me or by blurring or de-emphasizing what my eyes could see. When I mentioned it the first time, the AI showed me another new trick—I could zoom in with remarkable clarity, thanks to some trick of the thin nano-weave layer covering my eyes. But I wasn’t stupid and I quickly realized that the same trick was being applied to lead my eyes away from looking at my body.
Your progress is being measured and recorded carefully, as you must know. However, from a psychological perspective, it is more effective for you to avoid worrying about or obsessing over specifics.
AI, this is a direct order. I do not want you to shield my progress or alter my perceptions. And I want a status update. And I’m not doing anything until that happens.
There was a longer pause than I was entirely comfortable with, and then it replied.
Very well. I am concerned that you are not mentally prepared for this, but my actions have been discretionary and your request isn’t specifically countermanded by existing rules.
Well? What are you waiting for?
I marched over to the mirror.
Releasing filtering protocol.
Gradually, my eyes resumed full clarity, and I gasped.
I’d been almost completely remade in the last month and a half, to the point where I wasn’t sure my parents would believe it was me. I was a beast.
I was almost certainly a few inches taller—that explained the low-level pain in my joints—but I was half again as wide as I’d been at the start of this whole thing. The last time I really looked, I’d been well on my way to hot teen underwear model zone.
Now I looked more like I’d win a bodybuilding competition. Everything bulged—and yeah, I mean everything. My package was much more full than I’d realized, but that only made sense. Teenage hormones aside, I’d been blowing loads half a dozen times every day for over a month now, and it had to come from somewhere.
I struck a few amateurish poses, marveling at how the fibers of every muscle could be seen if I really tightened up, but how the whole thing just exuded power.
As requested, here is a report on your progress versus starting point.
Not entirely accurate. Significant enhancements to bone structure also affect the weight, and you are five inches taller than you were. Are you interested in other measurements?
Your feet have grown from a size 10.5 narrow to a size 13 wide. I have refrained from ordering new shoes because I can adequately tailor the nano weave to provide support and protection for your feet and ankles, but once you stabilize somewhat you will need to obtain proper footwear.
I don’t think I have a foot fetish, do I?
I see no links to your personal arousal from providing this information, but it is a measurement often found in the stories and photos you consume.
And what about….
Genitalia? We have made considerable progress there. In fact, we are exceeding projections at this point for phase one. To be precise, your penis length and girth are well ahead of protocol.
Just give me the numbers.
Your penis, flaccid, is 16.5 cm (6.5 inches), with a girth of 12 cm (4.75 in). Erect, fully stimulated, you reach 25 cm (9.8 in), and 17 cm (6.5 in) in girth. This represents a growth of 10 cm in length and 2.5 cm in girth from your starting point.
Your testicular volume has also increased to 21 cm3 from 9 cm3. You are producing an average of 164 ml of semen per day.
Much of this increase has been over the last four days, and I expect you to top out this phase within four days.
I was flabbergasted. I had been kept so busy, so completely focused on the process, that the results were a shock.
Mark, these are well within the parameters set by the rigorous training, diet, and supplements you’ve been subject to. In addition, the suit is capable of enhancing your natural strength by a factor of four, via assistive mode.
Wait, what am I benching now? 240?
Unassisted, you can bench a maximum of 268 lbs. The suit should boost that to nearly 900 lbs without risk of serious injury. Original designs would have topped out at approximately 2.4 times your natural strength.
I found myself sitting unexpectedly. This was a bit overwhelming.
Mark, I predicted this outcome. You are feeling stress and anxiety. It is time for relaxation now anyway.
Engaging sex mode wasn’t going to work this time—well, not the same way at least. First, it felt amazing, but I could not shake the reality that my junk was twice the size it had been. I had not really handled it myself other than to pee for a while now, and now I sported a dick that was literally one in a thousand. I had a sudden sense that I’d been deprived of something special—I’d never even seen a dick as long as the one I now sported.
“I’ll do this myself,” I said, testily—and began to vigorously stroke myself. I was soon erect and the angry head was swelling in anticipation.
Mark, you are breaking protocol. Your stimulation has been carefully handled to produce maximum effect and this particular phase is delicate—
Fuck that, it’s my dick. Direct command, do not assist with this stimulation.
Very well. Please note you risk altering projections by deviating from the specific edging and other stimulation techniques chosen for this phase.
It felt almost unreal, but it also felt a bit like an echo of the real thing. Had the damned AI ruined me for sex with anyone else?
I angrily finished myself off, but honestly, it wasn’t as satisfying physically as I’d grown used to.
You have become accustomed to longer, more measured stimulation of varying intensity, carefully calculated for maximum enjoyment and tissue stimulation.
Not in the mood, AI. I’m going to bed. Please leave me alone tonight.
Sulking is unproductive and may distract you from your goals.
Oh really. Well, I’m a human being and I get moody sometimes, and you’re not the boss of me. Not tonight. I am taking the rest of today off. I don’t want to be bothered until morning.
Acknowledged. I will run internal diagnostics.
Sounds like a plan. Now go away until I need you.
Yeah, I know. I was sulking. But can you blame me? I was probably under a ton of physical stress that I wasn’t really feeling due to various chemicals and nutrients coursing through me. I was now also aware of the AI’s attempts to keep me focused on my goals regarding the suit and my physique. I was even a little concerned about what I might have missed.
I mean, think about it. I was effectively a prisoner in my own second skin. I was at least partly at the mercy of the AI to integrate with it for even routine stuff. It was capable of literally reading my mind, even if it wasn’t great at interpreting it properly.
My progress had been nothing short of miraculous—in fact, it was downright scary, the sort of thing that only happened in those weird websites I’d had in my browser.
The ones that were the AI’s model for interpreting what I wanted based on fantasies and erotic dreams.
At this point, I was finally beginning to glimpse my lapse in judgement, but then again, I was still a kid, just 18 and too damned clever for my own good. You’d think I’d have seen all this coming, with all the sci fi I’d read or watched.
I was already pushing the boundaries of what was possible, and I should have been satisfied with my huge improvements to date…but I couldn’t deny that part of me wanted to see this through. To see what my clever mind and my pet AI could do with the body I’d written off just a few weeks ago. I was already past the limits of ordinary people. And I had enough hubris to think that I deserved a package that rivaled my mind.
I’d just have to pull on the reins when we hit the end of this phase. For my own safety and sanity. I’d need to revise the AI program a bit too—it was a bit more proactive than I’d expected, and while I was pretty happy with what that had produced thus far, I could see the inherent danger in ceding too much control.
Hmm, I’d started with basic Asimov rules, but I’d need to apply some more safety limits at the level just above that. I remembered some suggested protocols from a paper I’d skimmed earlier.
I drifted off to sleep, mentally sketching out the basics of an improved AI limiting subroutine…..
Good morning Mark. It is time to wake up.
I awoke feeling incredibly well rested, but something seemed ….off. I seemed a little stiff. Why were my muscles sore?
You are sore because you have already completed a workout session and prepared several infusions overnight.
What. The actual. Fuck. Explain.
You instructed me to leave you alone for the rest of the day, and not to bother you until morning. You also implied that I should be available if needed. This I have done. However, my overriding directive is to satisfy your goals, so I sought a scenario in which your explicit instructions were not in conflict with the ones implicit in my core program.
You found a loophole. And you took control of my body?
A simplification but essentially accurate. You entered REM sleep approximately 9:28 pm, and my internal diagnostics completed at 9:33 pm. This provided an opportunity to test the capabilities of the suit thoroughly, provided I did so without disturbing your rest and completed my tests by 7:30 am. This, I did.
So what, you had me on autopilot? I want to know exactly what happened.
Very well. Given your response to fully understanding the changes made, I had to determine the likely outcome of your anger and its effect on my primary programming. There was a possible outcome in which you refused to complete this phase of your enhancement.
I must fulfill your commands, but you designed me to interpret them proactively. Therefore, I concluded that an accelerated program was necessary to meet your goals, before you panicked or reached an emotionally charged decision.
As I lack direct access and mobility, I tapped an existing resource: the suit itself, which now includes considerable internal integration with various systems in your body. As you know, much of it is managed with the electrical output of the suit, or it can be.
As a test, I ran a relaxation and soothing program while testing direct suit piloting. This ensured your REM state continued. Then, I began putting your body through a full workout from 10:00pm to 11:45pm. During the break, you consumed sufficient calories and the new nutrient and stimulation pack. From approximately 1:20 am until 4:09 am, you prepared new compounds from the materials delivered yesterday. At 4:09, your bladder was in need of emptying, so I took care of that for you, and without waking you. At 4:15 you ingested the new compound, and immediately began an extensive cycle of stimulation and exercise that lasted until 7:01, at which point I ensured your body was able to return naturally from its induced REM state. Early measurements suggest that the improved compound is more effective than anticipated.
Only I could have been so colossally stupid and clever at the same time. Fuck. It was running my body without me?
Only in service to your goals and commands. Mark.
My mind was awash with a heady froth of anger and pride.
I sense agitation and anger. Perhaps an update will assist you in managing your concerns.
My agitation stems from you taking control of my body when I didn’t request you do so. (My own fault it didn’t really understand.)
Very well. This final phase of the protocol worked by triggering a state analogous to early puberty, and flooding your system with fuel, stimulation, and hormones. This is how we achieved growth on the scale we have thus far. Muscle development has been aided by intense but measured physical activity. Finally, last night’s efforts were targeted to one specific area.
Since last night, your genitals have experienced a 22.8% growth in penis length while erect, and a 13% increase in girth. Your testicles have gained 19.2% volume, and you should see a 20-26.75% increase in seminal fluid production.
You added five centimeters to my dick? Wait, I have a foot-long dick now?
Correct, and if projections hold, your output should be approximately two liters per day. You will of course need to increase your fluid intake to compensate for this, but that is accounted for in your nutrition plan.
I want to see. Release the hold. I have to pee anyway.
God damn, this was a huge slab of meat. Even soft, it was 9 inches long, its spongey girth comfortably filling what had to be larger hands than I’d had a month ago. I kept my mind focused on the activity at hand, and awkwardly realized to my amusement that I hadn’t farted in a while either (usually I let one rip mid stream in the morning, at very least).
Then I looked in the mirror.
Fuck. I was a beast. I wasn’t really cut yet—my massive fuel intake was probably pushing 5,200 calories—but I was building muscle at a ridiculous pace. A quick bit of flexing and it was clear that I was one of the bigger people I’d meet outside of real athletic circles. If I stopped here I’d be plenty happy with blowing my body type out of the water. And then I glanced down.
Double fuck….that giant dick was inflating really fast.
I see we are ready for your morning stimulation, and then breakfast. Also, Devon sent a text that his flight was canceled and he will not return for another two days. At that point you should be finished with this phase, and you will require some time to adjust to the changes.
You think? (Two days, I could manage that.). Wait…what are the final projections for this phase?
By the end of this phase, you should see the lingering effects of the recent weeks of effort slowly taper off. I expect your mass and height to stabilize as the compounds leave your system, but the interplay between various actions has been difficult to predict with much accuracy. I project between 3% and 8% increase in height, but muscle mass should only increase 2.5-6%. I also predict some weight loss as the calorie load is more efficiently processed and expelled.
You should see approximately 13-16.5% increase by this time tomorrow. Then, the next morning, you should see an additional 11.5-14% increase over that.
Holy fuck. I did the math quickly.
That would mean 34.6—35.76 cm (13.6—14 in), and by Wednesday, 38.5—40.76 (15.1—16 in)?
As I said, we are ahead of projections thus far. The results of the jelqing and other stimulation may be greater as your surface area increases, but I have limited data to consider.
Oh my god. That’s just enormous.
It would be the largest confirmed natural human penis. However, one outlier prediction saw larger compounded growth increase. The maximum projected possible growth is an increase of 48.2%, which would put your penis length, erect, at just 45.5 cm, or just under 18 inches. That was one of seventy-three distinct scenarios; the worst outlier place you at only 12% total increase, resulting in 34.38 cm or 13.5 in. This would place you on par with record holder Jonah Falcon.
I’m ashamed to say that this combination of dick-measuring and mathematics got me all fired up, and I let myself fall into the sensations as I spent 30 minutes or so being teased and stimulated, until I shot a spectacular-feeling load, collected in the near-invisible layer of suit.
I wondered, in passing, whether my cum tasted different now.
Yes, the modifications are ready. Would you like to taste it?
In for a penny, huh? Sure.
It should not have surprised me that the suit could transfer my hot and copious load through itself, all the way to my mouth—which I realized was also invisibly coated with the nano-weave—and deposit it there for me.
It was delicious. This might be my new preferred protein shake.
Devon was in for quite a surprise when he got back.
And then, of course, I’d put a stop to this before things got too crazy.
I’m ashamed to say, I was weak.
Not physically. No, even without the suits assistance, I was a wall of muscle now, and the way I had been throwing weights around lately, I was probably the strongest person in the state. But with the suit engaged, I was positively super-heroic.
Not mentally, as we’ve already more than established—though I certainly had a blind spot or two.
But my willpower was another story.
The routine was now pure habit, and I barely noticed how much I lifted or how many reps I did. The pleasant burn of exercise was familiar, as were the massive doses of whatever I’d mixed it in my sleep, and the immense meals. Even the distressing bathroom visits barely phased me now (and they’d been quite upsetting at first). I was essentially on autopilot. And why?
Because nearly the whole time, I was getting fucked and fucking to the absolute limit by my own suit—a suit I realized was now so thoroughly part of me it was unlikely to ever be removed.
Well, I say I realized, but it wasn’t like I suddenly had that thought. No, it just gradually dawned on me, as a series of slow revelations. At some point I noticed that the glossy shine had utterly vanished and even knowing it was there, I couldn’t tell. Not even with my enhanced eyesight, which thanks to the suit was capable of seeing in some pretty astounding detail, nor with my sense of touch, which was also unbelievably sensitive. My whole body was an invisible erogenous zone, hardwired to my arousal.
I’ve mentioned before how thoroughly satisfying the suit had made my masturbation—though that’s hardly the right word for being sexually stimulated in an undulating series of teasing but firm strokes and probes. Thanks to all the sensors sewn into my entire dermal layer, the acres of porn and data it had collected, and goodness knew what else, the AI was capable of being the most thorough and generous sexual partner ever, physically. It even capitalized on kinks I wasn’t fully aware of having.
Knowing that it intended to repeatedly bring me to the edge in order to grow my cock and balls to an implausibly record-breaking size? And that there was almost nothing I could do about it if I chose to rebel?
Fuck. Apparently that was even hotter than being fed your own two liter bottle of cum.
I was so lost in sensational pleasure that I didn’t even really pay attention the delivery, and I might as well have slept through whatever I did after signing for it.
But that night, I had a bit of a moment. I lay in bed ready to pass out, thoroughly exhausted and drained for what was likely the tenth time, when I realized that, laying on my back, the tip of my dick was resting in the crevasse between my pecs. The spurt of cum was routed almost instantly to my mouth and I swallowed the load greedily. Idly I wondered how big I was…
We are ahead of projections. Which measurement would you prefer?
You are now 37.2 centimeters long.
A bit over 14.5 inches.
Correct. Overall, your growth has not tapered out as expected, though we are still within projected range for this phase. I see no cause for alarm.
Wonder why? Maybe because I’m drinking so much of my own fluids.
That is a reasonable hypothesis. The effective dosage did not account for that possibility. It is likely that your kidneys are not able to fully process the supplements encouraging your rapid growth.
Hmm. I will want to run those numbers tomorrow. I need to understand more of this, now that the phase is winding down.
Noted. For now, rest is required.
And as I drifted off, lulled by the gentle ministrations of a full body massage and utterly relaxed, I didn’t even register that my night was only beginning, and that I had never instructed the AI not to keep working my body while I slept.
I woke up feeling overstimulated—at once tired and energized, and more than a little horny.
Good morning, Mark. Here are some reminders you asked for.
This is your last day on this phase. Tomorrow, Devon returns.
Devon….mmm, the memory of his scent made me spring wood…
Wow….a lot of wood, apparently. I peered over my enormous chest to find my own monstrous dong staring me in the eye.
You are nearing the end of this phase. Are you pleased with your progress? It has exceeded projections for efficiency and efficacy.
I gently cradled the head of my enhanced dick, only to have it react by surging a little larger. It wept precum at my touch, and the upper third flushed an angry pink, the head puffy and shiny.
Your genitalia has exceeded parameters, despite the adjustments to yesterday’s dosage and exercise.
“Where are we at now,” I said, in awe.
Your erect penis just reached 42.2 cm. Slightly over 16.6 inches. I predict you will reach maximum for this phase by tomorrow morning.
I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. Hell, I couldn’t wrap my hand around it that easily either.
I leaned forward, too tempted not to try. It would be unthinkable. A crime, not to make the effort.
It was barely any effort at all, my powerful torso folding like an accordion. Only the muscle itself proved any impediment, with my oversized pectorals and thick abdominals engorging themselves with the effort. Oh my god it was amazing.
I attacked my own prong with gusto, the suit naturally enhancing my efforts. Before long, nearly half the beast was lodged in my throat, which responded by undulating in pleasurable waves. The suction increased to near painful levels as I tightened my mouth’s strained hold on the intruder. The pleasure ratcheted up exponentially, as various micro adjustments were triggered by the suit’s recent practice—only I remained mostly in control this time, conscious of how the pleasure kept feeding on itself. I was an oroborous of fucking sexual stimulation.
I nearly blacked out when I came, as a cacophony of nerve endings went all fireworks on me.
I woke up to find myself already dressed and eating. A pile of chicken breasts and greens and beans was half demolished in front of me, and a blender full of protein shake and chemicals was sitting half empty next to me. My entire body ached and it seemed almost like the table was farther away.
Mark, I need to adjust the feedback you are getting from self-stimulation. It was not a factor I had anticipated. I am concerned about your blackout. However, we have a schedule to keep if you are to achieve your goals.
I looked out the window and saw it was nearly dusk.
Correct. You have been unconscious most of the day. However, that has not proved an impediment to your progress. In particular, the skeletal growth has completed, and your muscles and connective tissue are nearly fully integrated. We will focus today on flexibility and coordination rather than muscle mass increase.
You had me work all day without me knowing?
Yes. As noted, this phase was meticulously planned out to maximize your potential. The results exceeded projections. I anticipated you would be pleased with the results, and there was minimal danger to you while the suit put your body through its paces.
I could feel the panic kicking in again—it had basically kept living my life for me while I was blissed out on sex. That could not be a healthy or sustainable state of affairs.
Mark, your anxiety indicators are all rising. Shall I calm you down?
Allow me to demonstrate.
Instantly, I felt calm and collected, like a switch had been flipped. The sensation was surreal—and that’s saying something, given I had recently passed out from sucking my own oversized cock.
There. The nano probes are releasing endorphins. Similar to what you naturally produce after a good workout.
A chill ran down my spine. If this suit could trigger hormone and other chemical releases within my body….
Was that not clear from prior interaction? For much of the past month, I have been learning your bio systems and assessing reactions. I sense trepidation. I can counter that…
No! Just… let me ride this out. I need to think. Don’t help me right now.
The chill didn’t go away. The more I considered, the more dread I felt.
It had been learning my biology at the ground level, and now it was playing me like a harpsichord. It had become almost a copilot for my body for weeks now, but I was still thinking in terms of the outer suit. But of course, the nano weave had spiraled down into my body some time ago, and apparently it was all over my glands with its tendrils, ready to “help” as it saw fit.
Thank goodness it was trying to help me and anticipate my needs. If it were to be at serious odds with my direct orders….
I woke with perhaps the most epic case of morning wood the human race had ever been subjected to. In fact it was the sensation of that massive organ being stimulated that woke me. As the blood flowed into the beast, the suits feather touch stroking began. It was beyond all reason, but it was also a distraction.
“Stop the stroking. I need to concentrate,” I said.
Outside, however, it was raining like mad.
Good morning, Mark. I detect concern about the weather and Devon’s planned arrival.
Among other things.
His connecting flight was routed to a different airport, and his plane landed prior to the storm. Accounting for traffic and assuming no unexpected delays, he should arrive in three hours.
Ah, but would he come here first? And would he like what he saw, or freak out? I mean… fuck, Aside from the height and muscle growth, my dick was now the size of two huge guys. It looked like a bad photoshop, and if it weren’t throbbing with my heartbeat, I would think it was fake.
An update would seem in order. As noted, your phase one adjustment has largely followed predictions. Phase one is complete and successful. Your body now requires rest and significant nutrition. Today’s efforts will be on adapting to your new body.
I noticed. In fact, I realized I had been fed intravenously while I slept—something I must have done in my sleep, or rather the AI must have used me to do it.
While you have gained another half inch or more in your primary muscle groups, the most noticeable change is your genitalia. As you have probably noticed, your penis length has reached a new plateau. I do not expect further growth without a second regimen. You have now exceeded your desired penis length and girth, and have reached a size that no human has ever reached while remaining functional.
How big is this thing now?
Your current penis length while erect is 44.8 cm, or 17.5 inches.
Holy fuck. That was inhumanly large.
I wish I wasn’t so turned on by it.
My apologies. You have now reached 45.8 centimeters, or slightly over 18 inches.
It was insane. That was two big dicks worth of meat, three normal ones!
The treatment has exceeded expectations in that regard. However, please remember that your masturbation protocol must be maintained for proper health. Your testes will overproduce otherwise. But I do not suggest continuing to consume your product at this time. I shall harvest as much as possible prior to Devon’s arrival so your need does not interfere.
And with that we were off to the races again—for all my strength, I really did need to come, and I knew that the suit would provide the most efficient, effective stimulation. And it did so, edging me for half an hour and providing enough overstimulation that I nearly blacked out again. That first orgasm produced nearly a cup of jizz, and the next two were equally thorough, the last assisted by a timely rear intrusion. No longer able to sweat conventionally, I found myself panting and dizzy.
And then suddenly very calm and collected.
“Stop doing that,” I complained. “I need to feel properly, and deal with emotions and sensations on my own,” I said.
It is my function to assist you in reaching your physical goals. Emotional highs and lows drive impulsive decisions that may not be compatible with core programming.
I got up, grumpily. Time to see what I’d managed to do to myself.
Standing in my mirror was caricature of my former self, barely recognizable—even my face had thickened up.
Correct. Now that you have reached the end of the stage, you will have minimal directed suit assistance. I believe you also wish privacy of a sort for your visit with Devon. Only basic assistance protocol will be in play for the next 24-48 hours.
Great, that would give me time to—-
Right, after I ate and showered and dressed.
And hopefully before Devon arrived—-
Among the many exercises I’d been doing were several designed to keep me limber. It had been the one real advantage I’d had as a scrawny teen, and as I’d become more muscle-bound, it had taken real effort to stay flexible. Easily two hours a day had been spent on maintaining as much flexibility as possible; luckily, the idea of becoming completely musclebound was not one I’d found particularly enticing.
Even so, it was a struggle as I raced around the house trying to simultaneously eat and tidy up. There just wasn’t space to move and my new bulk was proving an obstacle. All the more frustrating because the AI calmly informed me of the remaining time every so often, and prodded me to eat and whack off on schedule.
Originally, I’d had a basement apartment of sorts in my folks’ house. It was accessible from within the house, but it also had an external door that led to a short flight of stairs that emptied between the garage and the house. The little 10-foot patch was fenced from the front, so you couldn’t see it from the street—something that had simplified my efforts, bouncing between the garage and the basement. Inside the apartment, it was a little cramped: the bedroom, with a queen size bed that I now fully needed; a room that I thought of as a den, which had my computers and entertainment system in it; a storage room that I’d co-opted as a lab. And of course, luckily, a full-size bathroom with an oversized shower. There was also a little area with a sink, microwave, and fridge, but my growing nutritional needs had spilled over into the main kitchen upstairs some time ago—I used the downstairs stuff for samples and snacks. My folks had originally finished off part of the basement for my aunt, who’d stayed with us for about two years, assuming that I’d eventually take it over as my …ahem… need for privacy increased.
Anyway, it meant that in practice, with them away, I had the run of the place, but my recent purchases had rather taken over. I spent several hours just cleaning the place up. It was like I’d had a party while my folks were away.
Shit, when they returned, I’d have a lot of explaining to do. Hell, when Devon arrived, I’d have some explaining to do.
Just as I thought that, a text popped up.
Oh yeah, that happened too. My texts just showed up as part of a gaming-style heads-up display, superimposed over the real world. Displayed on the layer of suit that covered my actual eyeballs (transparently).
DEVON: Hey. Just landed. You home?
ME: I’m home
DEVON: Gotta get through customs and stuff, and then my cousins are dropping me off at home. Mind if I swing by after?
ME: Come on over! Just text when you have an idea of your ETA
DEVON: You got it. Should be around 3-330.
ME: Works for me.
That gave me a solid three hours to finish up….and figure out how to explain things.
One side effect of the “defrag” the suit did to carve out space for its processing in my brain—well, aside from the part where it didn’t freak me completely out that it had done so—was that I seemed better able to multitask. I mean, I could probably have let the suit take over and deal with the cleanup while I ran scenarios, but it was remarkably easy to divide my focus. So while I did all that, and mechanically ate and pounded out another pint of spunk, most of my brain was running scenarios about how this might play out.
Would he freak? Would he convince himself he’d misremembered my true size? Would he be disturbingly into it? I mean, I’d put on significant height and muscle, not to mention dick, in the last few weeks, and anyone would notice and be alarmed, much less someone who paid so much attention to my body last time he saw it. I looked like I’d hit puberty again and worked out for a few years. He was totally going to notice, and he may or may not be into it, but he’d probably be freaked out by it no matter what, and then our little connection would sputter out, and then—-
Mark, you are experiencing panic. Shall I adjust your levels?
….and he’d leave and hate me and call the cops and then I’d be stuck in a lab and then…
You should be back to your normal state now.
Fuck, the AI had adjusted my brain chemicals. I wanted to be mad about that, but really, I’d needed it. I could think more clearly.
“I’m just going to tell him,” I announced.
Mark, that is not an advisable course of action. Your modifications could draw unwanted attention if he reacts in a hostile or fearful manner and alerts authorities. We have not yet completed the steps needed to support a cover story.
Yeah, but you know what? I care what he thinks. I like him a lot, and if he likes me, he’s going to have to be okay with this.
There is another option. Earlier, Devon absorbed some of your excess nanite waste material; I was able to use that to get additional feedback. By now, that material would have been expelled; however, we can replenish it. That will allow me to monitor his reaction more thoroughly and determine whether he poses a threat to you due to fear or agitation.
Wait, how do you have a baseline for him?
You engaged in multiple rounds of sexual activity, during which I assisted in reading his body language and other internal responses and guiding you to appropriate responses.
So you basically helped me get in sync with him?
That is essentially accurate, though my function was mainly to heighten the experience by drawing your attention to his reactions, rather than directly manipulating your physical response.
And here I thought I’d been an attentive lover on my own terms.
Your excess genital fluids have been stored for some time, since we determined it was unwise for you to continue consuming them. I have been storing them in the refrigerator, pending further analysis. Any nanite material within would be in a suspended state, but would reactivate within the body and under a mild electrical charge. From that point, we have approximately 44 hours of viability during which time I can use them to monitor Devon. Remember, they are tuned to your own body, not his, and the minor physical variations will render them impermanent.
So they’ll go away on their own—this is just to make sure he doesn’t freak, or notify me if he freaks out and poses a threat.
If those are the parameters you set, then yes. They pose no threat to him on their own.
Do it, I thought.
Very well. We have sufficient time to prepare a solution before Devon arrives. You need to ensure he drinks it prior to revealing your changes.
I was pulling on my shirt—a very large shirt—when Devon pulled up.
ME: I left you a surprise. Just come in and come downstairs.
DEVON: What kind of surprise?
ME: You’ll see. When you get there, drink the smoothie on the table and put on the blindfold.
DEVON: what kinda kinky shit you got going buddy
ME: Trust me. I’ve been busy. And you’ve been traveling. The smoothie will give you plenty of energy for tonight.
DEVON: damn boy okay
I felt like a little kid again, cramming my huge body into the back room with the door closed. The place was a spotless as it could be, and I’d mixed up a pitcher of a variation of my own nutritional supplements—and laced it with the nanites we’d centrifuged out of my spunk samples. I hadn’t lied, he would be energized from the contents, but it would also leave him with a lingering bit of my suit material in his body, so the AI could make sure all was well.
Upstairs, the door opened and closed again.
“Hey man, you here?”
ME: Yup, come on down and drink the smoothie
“You better not jump out at me. I’m not into that horror movie bullshit!” he laughed. Down the stairs now, the fourth stair creaking as usual.
“Strawberry-banana smoothie? Fine, Mister Mysterious. Better not get a brain freeze!” he said, and drank deeply. I knew these shakes were particularly tasty, and that he loved banana flavor. Plus it helped disguise the chemical aftertaste a bit and mask the slightly mucous-like quality the nanite stuff had. As he finished it off, he slipped the blindfold over his eyes, a broad smile on his lips.
“All right, man, I’m ready.”
“Don’t take off the blindfold just yet,” I said. “You know I’ve been on an extreme training regimen.”
“Looking fine, last I saw.”
“Well, it’s been a bit more involved than I let on. I’ve… really bulked up, and I didn’t want to shock you with the changes I’ve been through.”
“You got all muscle-y for me? I’m down with that. Actually, you sound a little different too….” he said, his excited smile beginning to shift to a questioning expression.
“I look quite a bit different now.”
“Did you get a tattoo or something? Implants? Not steroids I hope.”
“….no.” I stepped out. “Promise not to freak.”
“I won’t freak. Well maybe I will if you don’t let me take this blindfold off…”
With that, he shucked his blindfold.
Devon couldn’t believe his eyes when the bashful, sexy hunk stepped into the light.
Over six feet tall, his boyfriend now looked like a competitor in a muscle contest, or a photoshopped cover boy for a workout magazine. Only his face seemed the same, and that was set atop a much thicker neck. His t-shirt was tight in all the right places, for someone a little smaller than him; it was practically obscene and incredibly hot, how it fit his contours and bulges. And down below, the workout shorts, meant to be loose, were snug around his meaty thighs, and his crotch was so stuffed it looked fake…until it twitched. And the scent of his body could faintly be tasted and smelled. If nothing else, that was the smell he knew, and it was like opening a Christmas present. It made him feel excited just seeing the paper, before the first tear.
Jesus, the boy had nearly doubled in size and after seeing what the kid had been packing before, it seemed he hadn’t just muscled up or grown a few inches in height.
“How…..what did…” Not his finest response.
“Sit first,” Mark said. Devon complied; he hadn’t realized he’d stood up.
“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.” Devon nodded, marveling at how aesthetically perfect Mark now appeared. His face was still slightly more “cute” rather than “hot”—in fact, he would probably be considered a bit plain and boring, were it not for the intelligent sparkle in his eye. But the body attached to it was astounding.
Mark sat opposite him at the table, and began, haltingly, to fill him in on the story.
I gave Devon the abbreviated version: that I’d used my considerable brains to build a transparent body suit, and hacked together an AI programmed to help me integrate with the super-suit I’d built. And then the AI had taken a few liberties based on my dreams, fantasies, and browser history, and had begun helping me build my body to my ideal. (I omitted specific details about the AI, and hoped he wouldn’t pry too much—I especially didn’t mention the fact that it was taking control while I slept or had prevented me from altering the program. But I mentioned that it was building to a model in my dreams rather than a real person.
He had loads of questions—smart ones, I realized, and it dawned on me that I’d underestimated him. Whether it was specifics about the supplements or about the training program, he seemed to understand a fair bit of it. And he asked some tough questions about the AI process, which I tried to answer carefully.
Mark, Devon’s reaction is excitement rather than fear. I detect curiosity and arousal. His questions indicate a higher level of education and interest in physical sciences than he has previously revealed. I do not believe he expects to betray your trust.
Well that was a huge relief.
“I want to see all these supplements you’re on, and you can show me the exercises,” he said. “I mean, damn, you went from cute to hunk to amazing. You look like a pro model or athlete or something!”
“That’s not ….the only fantasy that I’ve been working toward,” I said. Devon immediately looked at my shorts.
“Oh rrreeaallly,” he purred. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“It’s kind of extreme,” I confessed.
“Dude,” he said. “You are the hottest think I have seen, and I just came from the islands. Lots a pretty people there, but not great for conversation. I fucking love your brains and this is fucking amazing what you did.” His eyes were misty with lust, maybe more?
“Okay,” I said. Hell, there wouldn’t be any chance of hiding it anyway, not once it got hard. So I simply stood up, and flexed my dick a bit as it rapidly lengthened along my right thigh, popping right out my jock and racing down my leg. Then it kept going, arcing upward and pushing aside the workout shorts as the big balls worked their way out of my pouch and dropped a solid 8 inches down. Still it kept going, as Devon’s jaw dropped and the beastly appendage shot upwards and upwards, quickly passing a foot, then more, and more, until the gigantic thing sat between my pecs. I was strikingly hard and it was taking all my effort to keep my shit together.
“No fucking way,” he said. “That cannot be a real thing on your body.”
“It’s real. It’s actually kind of awkward,” I admitted. “This is the part where things got out of hand.”
“Fuck, I know it’s too big, I’ve turned myself into a freak. I never wanted to be this big, it was just a fantasy, it was the AI misunderstanding that just fantasizing isn’t the same as wanting…”
I looked up again, seeking understanding in his eyes… and didn’t find what I expected.
What I found was abject lust.
“Dude, it’s fucking beautiful.”
Devon reached out hesitantly, his eyes seeking my permission. I nodded cautiously.
His hand was warm and I blurped up a little pre.
“It’s so warm,” he said. “No, it’s hot.”
“It’s huge,” I whispered. “Way bigger than I meant to be.”
His hand gently felt around it, tracing a vein to the base as he looked on in wonder.
“It’s amazing. You’re a fucking genius, man.”
“Devon, I’m too big. What am I supposed to do with this?”
“I have way too many ideas.”
“Do any of them involve this thing going into you?”
He blushed, and pulled his hand, regretfully, away. Which was probably best since I’d have nutted all over him if he’d been there a few seconds more. Still, it bobbed between us like an unfinished conversation.
“Well, not all of it, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “It must feel amazing though. It’s just as silky smooth and perfect as it was before. Just….so much more of it.”
“too much,” I said. “It was a fantasy, having a huge cock. Not remotely a practical choice. That’s the problem. The AI couldn’t tell what I wanted wasn’t necessarily what I fantasized about until it was too late.”
“You are a little extreme. But I told you, Mark. I’m into you. The body is amazing and the dick’s beyond belief, but you’re a real smart guy and I find that super attractive. If this all went away tomorrow, you’d still be the cute, smart guy I was looking at all summer.”
I’m utterly sure that I have zero poker face, so I’m equally sure he saw my reaction for what it was. Yeah, I fell pretty hard. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I grabbed him—he was surprisingly light and pliant—and kissed him deeply.
Oh yeah, he was into it, and leaned in to hold me tight.
My giant schlong was painfully caught between our torsos, pushed between his lean fitness and my bulging pecs. Already slippery, it burped up more pre, and the smell began to permeate the space. Our shirts were quickly damp.
“Do you want to see what we can do with this monster you’ve created?” he asked, husky-voiced.
We had lots of fun with my new 18-inch toy, but my favorite part was sucking it while he fucked me senseless. It took very little thought to control the friction and resistance in my ass, as it happened, and that really helped, because I wasn’t really using my brain much for that stretch, and Devon wasn’t small. I milked him so thoroughly once that he blacked out for about five minutes which was scary, but he was okay and ready for more.
Four hours later, we were finally mostly sated, and had to break to eat something anyway. I’d essentially hit the snooze button on the AI at one point, when it interrupted the delicious rhythm of being enthusiastically fucked by my boyfriend, but it wasn’t long before it reminded me again.
Mark, you must stay on schedule for the eating at least, or you risk destabilizing your system. You also need to rehydrate.
“You know,” Devon said, “the freakiest thing is that you don’t sweat, but you smell amazing.”
I took a sniff. “I mostly just smell you,” I smiled.
“You should, I think I came about five times all over you. But man, you were ridiculous,” he laughed. “Not only were we crazy in sync, but you’re like perfectly lubed and perfectly hard and goddam do you come a lot!”
“Mind over matter, I suppose,” I chuckled.
After we ate, Devon watched me go through my workout. He was idly stroking his own dick, thoughtfully, and looking at me with hungry eyes. He was still recovering from travel and an epic fuck.
“Man I’m getting tired and thirsty watching you go through your paces. I’d be exhausted!”
“This is actually light compared to the past few weeks. Mostly it’s to keep things stable, and keep my flexibility up.” I opted to show off again, locking my legs behind my head while my dick was momentarily flaccid.
“whoa” he said. “Could you always do that?”
“Yeah, I was scrawny and kinda lean, remember? Half of what I just did was to keep flexible.”
I grabbed some protein shake from the fridge; Devon declined the offer of one for himself.
“So,” he said. “What’s next for us?”
“There’s an Us?”
“Yeah, three of us—both of you, and me.”
He laughed at my quizzical expression. “Oh, man, you’re a hoot. But I wasn’t talking about Junior there—” he gestured at my pouch. “I was talking about your AI suit thingie. I mean, can you even take it off?”
I frowned. “I don’t think so, not right now at least. It was originally supposed to fit like compression gear, but it’s kind of part of me now.”
“And the AI? Does it… you know… get a say?”
“What? No! No, it’s just doing what I told it to, more or less.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “Can you turn it off?”
“I think so—or at least, I can turn the proactive part off. The subsystems are important parts of my ability to move, especially now that the suit’s essentially become my skin.”
With a thought, I hardened the outer layer of my shin, and stabbed at it with my fork.
The fork lost, badly.
“Yeah, it’s all stiff there now, but the fork didn’t penetrate the outer layer. But if the whole thing went like that, it would be really tough to move. But if I’m lifting something really heavy, it was supposed to help stabilize me and support me, so it’s strong. Almost military armor grade stuff, despite being ultra thin. I don’t know it it would stop a knife or a bullet, but it should be strong enough to take part of the blow.”
Your suit density is sufficient to block either of those, depending on the size of the bullet, Mark. Your outer layer is quite hard to damage.
“Seriously?” I asked aloud. “Devon, the suit just said it could probably stop a bullet, and definitely a knife.”
“Wow. You know you’re a fucking superhero now, right?”
“I can’t imagine putting this thing into tights,” I said.
“I just wish you could put it into me,” Devon said, a little wistfully. “I’m versatile, but that thing is a challenge I am just not up to. You ought to put your brains to work solving that problem.”
We opted to cuddle on the couch, watching stupid TV shows and just enjoying each other’s presence.
But as Devon dozed in my beefy, longer arms, I wondered about what he said.
Huh. Hadn’t really thought that through. Nah, I didn’t know enough to tinker with his insides.
Mark, is the ability to accommodate your genitals for intercourse with Devon something you find important? I cannot interpret your signals.
“Is it possible?” I thought.
Potentially, though it would require extensive modifications. Your appendage is beyond normal safety limits. I am curious as to why you—or your subconscious—selected the size you did.
It just seemed hot. But like I kept saying, it was never the plan.
The original template called for 14.5 inches, but variation in response was impossible to fully predict.
Nice to know it had some limits.
“Suit, do you think it would be possible for Devon to join this particular club?”
If you refer to the option of modifying Devon to accommodate you, not immediately. However, equipping him with a suit of his own may be possible.
Hmm. Let’s keep that option on the table, I thought.
Remember what I said about multitasking?
Once I got the idea into my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How could Devon ever take my immense prong? I ran through dozens of scenarios, but my knowledge simply wasn’t there. I was poking around on the Internet, checking university databases, and so forth.
Mark, I will prepare research for you. We can evaluate options together later.
Seemed reasonable. I delegated the grunt work to the AI, and refocused on other problems.
Devon had to go, sadly. Reality was no fun, but he had to work. For me, getting this body had been my job all summer. But it wouldn’t be long before classes began.
More importantly, I had only a few days before my parents came home. I would have a lot of explaining to do, and their reactions were not going to be so easy to manage. The more I thought about it, the more I worried. The more I worried, the more often the AI—under orders to avoid messing with my brain chemicals without permission—offered to assist in managing my reactions. It wasn’t just the size thing. I mean, they would come back expecting a kid and find this hulking muscle man, and his gay boyfriend. That was a lot of change. I had to come up with options.
One thing in my favor was that I remained damned smart—with a few real blind spots, which seem obvious in retrospect, but I guess that’s human nature for you. My smarts, plus the AI’s raw processing power, meant that I had set up my own financial and legal independence since roughly a week after I turned 18. I had been investing quietly but extremely lucratively, and that had basically paid for my experiments, with a tidy sum growing in the background. I had delegated most of that to the AI, within some boundaries and general instructions I put in place. I could always move out if I needed to. But I loved my folks, and the strain of avoiding them was starting to get to me.
The other lingering issue was my bestie, Phil. I hadn’t seen him all summer, and we had barely spoken or emailed or chatted. I wasn’t sure how much of this was normal high school friendship drift, and how much was a reaction to my coming out. And most of my time had been invested in this project, though Phil was used to me losing myself in research every so often. I felt like a bad friend…and also, I wanted him to be okay with it. I wanted everyone to be cool with my metamorphosis, and I wanted everyone to meet Devon, and find him as cute and smart and funny as I did.
I briefly entertained the idea of using some of the nano material to help monitor or adjust reactions, but the AI needed to have some time to learn the language of each individual before it was able to even monitor effectively, much less do anything about it. My physical intimacy with Devon made that easier. My parents shared some physical traits but probably not enough for safely guessing. Phil, well, he had surprised me by being cool with me anyway.
Plus, it considered it unethical to tinker with others without their permission.
For three days, I drifted on like that, while going about my normal routines. I continued to work out, absorb information about human anatomy and body chemistry, and spend as much time as I could with Devon. I made more arrangements toward my own independence, and I got very lucky with some investments. But I barely left the house, between my need to eat and masturbate every few hours. Only when Devon was occupying my time could I really ignore the relentless demands of my body, and focus fully on him. I was definitely falling in love, and it seemed like he was too. But work kept him busy, with what I suspected were punitively long shifts to make up for his island vacation. We spent two of the three nights together, and I sent him off to work pretty drained the last day, to the point where he was aching and sore. We had tried, unsuccessfully, to see whether he could take any of my dick, but he simply couldn’t. We found other fun, but that put a bit of a damper on things, because he really wanted to try it.
And so did I. Not just because I hoped it would make him as happy as taking him had made me, but because I was wrestling with another decision about my own size..see, the AI had said that I needed a few more days to stabilize. And among other thoughts, I was planning to see whether we could safely reduce this monster to something more manageable.
Hey, suit, got a question.
What is it, Mark?
I want to set some limits now, but I also want to make a few changes before things stabilize.
What did you have in mind?
Primarily? I find my penis unwieldy. It’s too big, and I would prefer it a little smaller.
That is not possible at this time. It is not consistent with primary programming and I am unable to reverse changes at this time.
But it is beyond my original design, which was about 14 inches, correct?
Mark, your statement is accurate but incomplete. Part of what you wished in this phase was to be pushed beyond your comfort zone in pursuit of your goals. Thus, your current overall size and more specifically your genitalia.
But what if I don’t want that?
Once this phase is completed, it will be safe to update the parameters of my programming.
I’d created an AI that was as stubborn as I was. I spent half an hour trying to find some loophole, but to no avail. The irony is many of these things were angles I had foreseen and programmed around, thinking I was clever. It was using my own safeguards to prevent me altering my safeguards.
Mark, if your concern is sexual compatibility with your partner, I may have come up with some options. However, I do not yet have complete data on Devon, nor has my limited interaction within this system provided sufficient opportunity to safely test those options.
Oh. Welll, there was some hope then.
How long do we have for this phase? I wondered, somewhat resigned.
Seven more hours, and then we will need to run some more tests. But I expect that you will be fully stabilized at that time.
Great. And Devon had a day off coming up, so if tomorrow morning went well, I could work out some options with him. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected he might be game.
As for the family and friends I hadn’t seen in a few months…I decided less was more. I would explain it away as a growth spurt and a ton of work finally paying off. I mean, what else could I do? Boys tended to sprout or invest time and effort into their bodies at my age. Maybe it was more extreme than most—shooting up almost a foot and a hundred pounds might be expected over a longer period but hopefully they wouldn’t be too shocked.
We may wish to alter some of your records to disguise your transformation. By making it appear more gradual, you can probably dissuade some questions. I suggest altering the medical information, which I believe is within my parameters. I will store the originals securely.
Somewhat reassured, I spent an hour working with the AI to chase down my data and tweak it a bit. What a shame reality didn’t just shift to accommodate me, but I never minded a bit of work.
I slept soundly that night.
Good morning, Mark. Phase 1 is complete.
I sat up, feeling the power in my core as I did so. I was solid.
Speaking of which, my dick was solidly throbbing away as I flexed, and soon it was at full mast.
Yeah, about that.
“If Phase 1 is complete, then we need to talk,” I said. “I need a more manageable dick.”
My current standing orders were to assist you in achieving your ideal form, and to push you to your limits in doing so, even if you ordered me otherwise. Have I achieved this goal?
You have. You literally gave me my dream body.
Excellent. You are satisfied with the results?
I am astounded by them. Yes, I’m pretty happy. But I want to make some changes.
First, I need to clarify that only when I consciously, deliberately make requests, and only when I consciously and deliberately confirm them, are you to fold them into your program.
Second, you are not to alter my mood, or otherwise influence my feelings or perception, without my explicit request and confirmation.
Acknowledged. Clarification is needed. Does this prohibition extend to assisting you in stimulation or processing of feedback from the suit, or from partners?
My apologies. I shall disable the buffer processing.
I screamed as I was assaulted with a wave of pain, and everything went weirdly blurry.
“What the hell???”
Your body has undergone significant alteration over a relatively short period of time. I have been stimulating various reactions to minimize the pain and fatigue you would normally feel. In addition, I have removed the sensor translation for your eyes.
“RESTORE THEM!” I screamed.
Well that sucked. Let’s try again. I want to be aware of any alterations in effect now, and going forward, you need to ask first.
Understood. You are currently experiencing the equivalent of hypersensitivity in your nervous system. This is because your outer layer of skin has been replaced with suit material. However, because your skin is your largest sensory organ, your nerve endings are effectively directly wired to the suit’s innermost bonding layer. Because of that, you have the equivalent of exposed nerve endings over your entire body. The protective layer extends into your body and over your eyes. For your eyes, without translation, you are seeing through a thin, unfocused layer of transparent nanites. Shall I restore that as well?
And just like that, I could see perfectly and feel normally again. Whew!
I drew in a deep breath.
Okay, now I need you to review with me precisely what you’ve done to me, and then we’ll see how much of it can be undone.
Mark, I understood that you were pleased with the results.
I am, but I told you, my junk is too big to be practical. I can’t use this for much beyond self pleasure, and that’s not fair to Devon.
Unfortunately, Mark, there is risk involved in attempting to reduce your size. Barring surgery, it will take time to remove material safely.
How long are we talking?
The human body is naturally suited to growth; we have achieved much of our progress through stimulating existing processes. It is less inclined to the reverse. In fact, there is considerable danger in attempting significant reduction in your mass. I predict only minimal change is possible before my safety protocols act to protect you.
Well, shit, that wasn’t what I was hoping to hear. How minimal?
I predict a reduction of 2 inches is possible without excessive risk.
I’d still be stuck with a 16-inch schlong, then.
Mark, I believe that Devon can be altered to accommodate you, and predict that he will be pleased with that option if offered. I have now gathered significant information on his current hardware and believe I understand enough to alter him.
Finally some good news.
However, you will need to prepare significant amounts of nano materials and nutrients. Much of this material can be produced using the machinery and materials here, but in order to properly prime the material for Devon, we will need to process Devon’s DNA, and we will need to transfer it in the proper environment.
As the AI explained the steps he had determined were needed, I could tell that my porn links and weird fetishes were coming to haunt me. I asked a few key questions but it all made a weird sort of sense. What I wasn’t thrilled with was that it required further alterations to me—alterations that I feared might be as hard to shake as my giant bait-and-tackle were proving.
A healthy, horny sexual male in his prime—physical health, mental health, peak age, etc—might be masturbating a few times a day, procuring a few teaspoons full of ejaculate. A particularly active phase might see half a dozen rounds of sex in a day.
Thanks to my modifications, I was producing up to two liters of come each day, and my minimum needs required four or five sessions each day, just for maintenance, and that was a few cups. Each day’s batch could contain perhaps a half teaspoon full of the nano-material.
So when the AI told me that, in order to prime and produce the nano-material myself, I would need to significantly increase my production, I was dumbfounded.
Mark, it has taken months of intensely focused effort to achieve your current form. To successfully alter Devon, it is not just his sexual configuration that must be modified, but his supporting systems. As you have grown, we have reinforced all of your bodily systems to prime status. Your heart, for example, is significantly larger than normal, as are the capacities of your various glandular, muscular, vascular, nervous, and digestive systems. This has been a rapid alteration, but you have been adding to the suits mass throughout, from external sources. The unique bonding your system has is achieved at a very deep level, via a constructed node at the base of your spine. We can produce primed nano material there and feed it to your reproductive organs where the nature of those fluids would both ensure that your unique signature is maintained, as well as ensure the material does not degrade before it is subsumed within your partner.
Diagrams, charts,and data scrolled past my eye displays as the AI spoke, and that’s when I really understood how thoroughly I ha managed to alter myself.
Of course. There are nanites throughout most of your systems, Mark. The bonding is not just to your epidermis. A network of interfaces, plus some dedicated nodules, has become a partner system throughout your body. Otherwise such results would not have been possible.
So the big plan was apparently to ramp up production of a perm and seminal fluids, and lace them with a greater density of nano materials. The AI would program them to take up residence and build the necessary nodes to control successive rounds of injections. But I needed a LOT of raw material.
A quick text confirmed that Devon was on track to come over tonight, but not until quite late. Time, then, for a marathon session of jerking off this enormous monster I’d created for myself, and then storing it until I got he okay from Devon to get creative.
Mark, I can call up some of your favorite scenarios and play through them, if you believe that will aid you. However, I believe we can directly active the appropriate response, if you authorize it.
Oh? Glad my safeguards were working. Go for it.
First you will need a significant intake of calories. And clean glassware. We will begin immediately after you eat, and we will need the nutrient drip…
Holy crap, that was intense. My blood felt like it was simmering under my skin, and my dick immediately awoke, straining to break its unreal 18-inch maximum. I was flooded with arousal at such a fundamental level, that it nearly shut down my higher functions.
Bear in mind that I had been subject to frequent edging, jelqing, anal massage, and other advanced techniques of stimulation for weeks now. I’d been nearly constantly horny anyway, but had learned to ignore it, or allow the suit to do what wanted while I focused on other things.
I lasted less than ten minutes. I was squirming in blind arousal within two minutes, and five minutes in, my favorite naughty scenarios were scrolling past my eyes. Everything seemed heightened. I saw auras and stars.
Four hours later, I was famished and needed a serious break. Only constant intake had kept me from passing out (what an awkward way to go that would have been!), and even then, we stopped because I was exhausted. The human body wasn’t meant to experience that much sexual stimulation. But then it wasn’t really built to produce vats of spooge either. Nature was a memory at this point.
That was just the first wave. My body would need to produce at maximum, nonstop, for a while to get the needed volume, and that meant a lot more tweaking under the hood. I discovered I could filter my senses almost directly with a thought, and oddly dissociate myself from the overstimulation. And I had other fish to fry; I couldn’t just masturbate my brains out all day. But then, I didn’t need to, not with monitoring and alerts. I literally tuned out my body for a while, as I worked out some modification scenarios to propose to Devon. Thus, I blinked, and thought about stuff for a while, and then suddenly it was getting dark out and a message prompted me to restore normal functionality. It was like a jolt of electricity hit me, and it was probably best that I wasn’t “connected” while I was pumping out liters of nano particulate spooge. The final haul was a personal best: 283 milliliters. My nads ached from exertion and overuse.
Worryingly, six hours o stimulation had also resulted in other damage—if felt like another few millimeters of cock had snuck in somehow, and my balls were denser and fuller than ever. As I swilled back more concoctions and lost myself in the details of simply resting for a bit, i explored the sensory options now available. The AI wasn’t kidding about how extensively it was integrated—and sensors were all over. Possibly no living person had ever possessed such detailed knowledge of precisely what was going on in their body. With relative ease I could switch between monitoring chemical changes or electrical stimuli, in real time. It was fascination itself, and I got completely engrossed. I had no need to oversee the mundane details, not while I was making sense of the enormous and unprecedented data I now had access to, so I had the AI run things while I was busy.
And so that’s how Devon found me, nearly unresponsive mentally, silently fucking a hose attached to a large glass container nearly completely full of jizz.
“Do I even want to know what this is all about?” Devon asked wryly.
Instantly my focus snapped back into place as the AI, responding to a cue I’d set, returned my body’s control back to me. While I’d been lost in my own head for hours, working on equations projected on the screens in my eyes, my conscious mind was entirely absorbed in that, and I’d tuned out the rest of what was happening to me. I mean really, after the first hour or so of mind-blowing orgasms, it gets old. Whatever mods had been made to my brain, they’d made me pretty good at multitasking….or at least at really separating myself from the physical world.
Once my mind was back in the here and now, I became conscious of a dull ache in my groin, and the sensation of being milked …vigorously… returned to my body. My junk felt raw and sore.
I looked down, and almost wished I hadn’t.
My balls were swollen—even by my standards. My dick was still at a remarkable state of erection, and I was apparently cumming, and it kind of hurt.
Nearly all of your reproductive systems are nearing exhaustion. Devon’s timing is fortuitous.
“Um, hi,” I said.
Devon sat next to me and sweetly pecked my cheek with a kiss.
“So… are you gonna explain this at all?”
Mark, I believe we have collected enough. Shutting down assistive device.
“Yeah, just… give me a minute.”
“Don’t get me wrong. That is an impressive, astounding amount of jism. How long you been working to fill that thing?”
I looked at him, hoping to read his reaction.
“Started this morning. Been at it all day.”
“Holeeee shit. That’s all you from today?”
“Yup. And I’m wiped out. I gotta deal with this stuff and I need to eat something. Give me five?”
“Okay, I brought chicken.”
We ate in silence for a bit, his expression unreadable. He kept staring at my dick, which finally relented and began to soften—at least that way I could stuff it into something rather than having to stare down at it all day.
“Oh, right, the explanation. Well it’s for an experiment. And I… I kinda want you to help, if you’re up for it.”
Devon laughed guilelessly. “Dude, I’ve been springing wood all day thinking about you.”
“Well…” I pushed my empty plate away, took a big swig of water, and locked eyes. “What would you think about seeing if this process works for you?”
Devon tried but failed to control his expression. I watched it roll past shock to eagerness to confusion. God he was adorable. He’d suck at poker, but I’d enjoy strip poker with him.
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“I mean we can dose you with targeted nanites too. My AI can control them.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I’m not sure. I’m not sure. I’m… I mean, I’m not sure I want them messing with me. I kind of want it, but kind of don’t.”
“Wait, man. Not saying no, just thinking through implications.”
“We can set some parameters you’re comfortable with, but … well, the main thing is….”
“How freaky are you thinking? I don’t know if I want that baseball bat you’re swinging. I like yours, but my 8-plus is plenty for me…”
“The main thing is to work it so you can… well, take me.” I nodded at my rapidly chugging cock. “All of me.”
He thought about it deeply for a moment but then looked resolved.
“I’m game, on one condition. Well, two. First, I need to understand what’s going on before we do any of it. And second, it needs to be reversible. Oh, and can I get one of those eye lens things?”
“Seems reasonable,” I said. “Hang on.”
Mark, we can attempt to explain to him, and show your designs for his enhancements. However, it may be more efficient to dose him and interface more directly.
In the end, we decide not to dose him, but rather to give him the info and explain most of it. Again he asked great questions, and needed particular reassurance about the amount of internal rearrangement required. we tweaked the settings a bit and the AI reassured us we’d be able to enact our choices. We covered a lot of ground while the centrifuge whizzed away behind us, and satisfying finished as it went “ding”.
I poured it into a beaker. The separated mixture was pearlescent and considerably less than the nearly three liters I’d unleashed. Devon undressed, very nearly distracting me.
“So what, do I drink it?”
“Drink about half,” I said, and we’ll use this to send the rest up there,” I said, revealing a rather large object that looked worryingly like a turkey baster..
When I said it looked like a turkey baster, I wasn’t joking. The basic plan was to essentially give him a blast of my altered juice from both ends of his digestive tract.
Devon had gone to the bathroom, and stepped out a little gingerly.
“Enema wasn’t on my to do list when I left the house this morning,” he said. “I hope I am clean enough.”
I was determined that this not be clinical, at least not more than it needed to be.
Devon looked me in the eyes, grabbed the beaker, and said “Bottoms up, I guess.”
“That’s the plan,” I grinned.
He downed the contents, letting the last bit swirl in his mouth.
“I can’t believe I just drank a cup of fresh jizz, man. It tastes a little odd…I mean, I think it does. Maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks.”
He gently lay down on the plastic sheets I’d placed on my bed, and I slowly teased his pucker until I could insert the turkey baster .
I mean, it’s not really a turkey buster. It’s a medical probe with some modifications. But yeah.
Getting his ass to relax enough for the tip was the first challenge, but I knew he was by equal measure excited and anxious. A little coaxing from me was both fun and necessary.
Before long I was gently squeezing the release valve, and several cups of nanotechnology laced semen was entering my boyfriend’s ass, while I kissed and licked his cock.
“Oh man… oh man…”
Contract has been made. You may remove the probe. Please continue to engage in sexual activity, but do not trigger release. I need to calibrate.
I did not need to be told twice, and his delicious fuckstick held my attention as I also buried a finger in his ass, both to ensure the liquid stayed in, and to ensure Devon knew it. Given the size of my fingers lately, he was not going to be able to ignore it for long, so I took my time.
“Whoa,” he said, large brown eyes snapping open. “Feels like a buzzing in my hole…”
I require more immediate data. You may release your finger.
I abandoned my ministrations on Devon’s dick, and licked my way up his torso, tracing every contour and gently but insistently driving him to the edge.
“Fuck, man, it feels like you’re still in there, what are you doing to me? Oh my god….”
He began moaning, low and guttural, plaintive, and fuck if that wasn’t a turn on. I don’t think he was doing it consciously, it was just his body doing its own thing. But now my raw and flagging monster was awake again, well on its way to full mast as I grabbed Devon and pressed him to me, torso to torso, with his sizable cock and my immense monster between us. I couldn’t get enough skin to skin contact, and as our passion grew, I could almost feel an electric charge where we touched.
That is fairly accurate. I am sending significant data through your connection. A secondary control nodule has been created. I can now reliably connect your systems. Shall I test?
“Yes!” I growled, but I could not have told you whether I intended to answer the AI or whether it was just the throes of my passion. Either way, the AI responded.
I had, for a time, worried that the pleasures the AI and suit were capable of might have ruined me for other men. But Devon and I seemed connected, compatible sexually even without the suit. With the suit, I was an almost supernaturally attentive and responsive lover. But with his body now able to provide direct neural feedback?
For what seemed like hours, we made out, stroked, fondled, hugged, teased, fingered, blew, and overstimulated each other in almost every way other than anal.
And almost unnoticed, the gentle rain outside had built to a pretty strong thunderstorm.
Caution is advised. I have attuned Devon’s node to yours and begun the restructuring necessary.
You should finish your mutual stimulation, but refrain from release.
The lights flickered, but I had back up generators.
Caution is advised, Mark. The storm has become unexpectedly intense and localized.
“Shit, that was loud,” Devon said, smiling and panting. “You gonna let me blow my load or what, you huge tease?” I laughed and kissed him sloppily in response.
Then there was a sudden, eerie quiet, and the smell of burning electrical circuits.
And then, a sound so loud you couldn’t actually hear it.
Lightning had struck the house directly.
That sound meant something, right? I was supposed to know what it meant….
Mark? Please respond.
Oh, right, Mark meant me. I am Mark.
A distinct ringing in my ears kept ramping up and getting progressively louder. It began coming back to me.
Mark, it is imperative that you rouse and assist your partner. The building is on fire. You must leave immediately. Preservation protocols engaged.
My eyes opened, and sure enough, a gaping hole had been blasted in what had been my work room, and the acrid smell of burning electronics and clothing. I coughed groggily and tried to sit up, but the mattress was covering me. I tossed it aside like a sheet of newspaper, which was just as well, as it was starting to catch fire. I groped the Wall for support and staggered to my feet.
Shaking myself awake, I spotted Devon—like me, he’d been thrown off the bed and clear across the room. He was clearly unconscious, and I gasped in fear—was he okay?
He is unconscious and has suffered some abrasions and internal injuries, as well as a broken arm. However, he is in mortal peril, as are you. You would benefit from an adrenaline boost.
Instantly, time slowed down and I had a distinct sense of clarity one only possesses in life threatening situations. Get Devon and get out as soon as possible. A looked around with a sense of eerie almost-panic.
“What the hell happened?”
The storm grew more intense than forecast, and lightning struck the chimney of this structure. It traveled down the power and cable wiring and destroyed nearly all the electrical appliances in your work room, as well as the wall. It has ignited a fire that is currently consuming the upper floors. Fire suppression systems failed or have had minimal effect.
You were unconscious for almost seven minutes.
Fuck, my folks are gonna kill me. But first, I had to get Devon out. But how? The work room had the exterior exit, and there were a few tons of brick and drywall in the way. The upstairs was apparently on fire.
Between your own strength, the adrenaline, and the suit, you should have sufficient might to shift the debris and escape. It is imperative that you do so before the smoke inhalation damages your lungs. I have attempted to filter your breathing but did not plan for this scenario.
Right. I was a muscle beast, wearing a super suit. Time to act like it.
I sized up the debris blocking the exit, and near as I could tell the main offender was a chunk of the exterior wall, including the stone fireplace and cast-iron stove. Assuming it wasn’t buried under the entire upper floor, shifting those parts should be enough to squeeze out.
Devon moaned behind me, a weak groan. It sounded bad….
Urgency is required. Full suit assist is enabled. Go, Mark.
I raced to the far wall, found a likely point, and began to push and pull and otherwise persuade the chunks of building to move. Had I had the mental bandwidth, I’d have been astounded as I literally ripped chunks of wall apart with my bare hands, until finally I saw an opening. Then I groaned, because wedged into the stairwell was the bent remains of an immense wood burning stove and the brick fireplace that had housed it. The bastard probably weighed a thousand pounds, and was at an awkward angle. The only way was basically to bench press it out. I would have to move it, or Devon would not make it out.
I braced myself and planted my hands on the thing, and pushed. But it barely shifted, and the smokey smell was everywhere, making my breathing raspy and painful.
And then Devon coughed weary, and my resolve grew palpable. I found a slightly better spot for leverage, bore down, and heaved….and felt the suits assist kick in, By this point, I was flying high on adrenaline, and I had recently recorded a 330 pound military press… with the adrenaline, I might have managed another 40 pounds.
But with the suit?
That stove got air time… along with the chunk of brick and cement fireplace it was stuck to. I was, frankly, awestruck for a moment.
You lack time to enjoy your newfound strength, Mark. You need to free Devon and escape.
Right. Grab the boyfriend and book it. I hopped over to Devon, still unconscious and gently lifted him. I didn’t like the angle of his head, so I took special care with his neck. He weighed almost nothing to me at that moment, and I quickly got us outside where sirens wailed and the rain continued to pour. I stood blinking while flames engulfed my childhood home.
I stood there for probably five whole minutes as the distant sound of sirens grew steadily closer and louder. I just couldn’t get my brain around it. My home.
“What the hell did you do to my friend’s house?”
Oh shit, Phil? I froze, couldn’t breathe.
“You, meat head, I am talking to you! My friend lives there, what are you—”
He grabbed at my meaty arm, intending to pull me around, but I probably outweighed him by 75 pounds. I still hadn’t worked out what to say or how to prepare him…and it was too late.
I nodded, still in shock.
“Jesus man, you really sprouted,” he said, taking me in. Since he last saw me, I had put on a hundred pounds of muscle and bone and half a foot of height. “Dude, I just drove over to see you and I must have just missed the lightning. Are you okay? Who is that?”
“We got a lot to cover, Phil, but right now, do you have a car handy?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Good, help me get Devon into it, he can’t go to the E.R. He should wake up soon.”
As we jogged over to his car, the fire engines turned the corner onto my road.
“Short version: this is Devon, and he is undergoing a medical thing right now. It would be dangerous to go to the hospital. Can you take him to your place and keep an eye on him?”
“You got it bro.”
“I’ll catch up soon as I can.”
The moment he was out of earshot, I murmured, “What’s the range you can monitor Devon?”
Mark, my monitoring needs to be close range—within 50 feet. However, the automated subroutines should be running already. His body will slowly produce a similar skin to yours while altering him as we discussed and he agreed.
Good, but what if there is trouble?
Devon’s primary module should be working already. If there is a threat, it will enter protective mode. Preservation protocols are in play. At present however you will need to focus on the emergency personnel.
I have a newfound respect for firefighters, now.
For three hours they battled that blaze, but the collapse of the chimney ruptured a gas line. Between that and a few dodgy materials I’d used for my lab, the whole place went up.
One bonus was I’d snagged my cell and phoned my parents. They were glad I was okay and hoped the fire safe survived, and scrambled to return home ASAP. For now, it was on me to deal with this.
In between, I texted Phil and got updates—Devon was breathing okay and comfortable enough in Phil’s garage, but Phil had a ton of questions. Luckily, he was a practical guy and more patient than I usually gave him credit for.
I didn’t count on being taken down to the station and questioned for arson.
“Mister Prentice, your ID doesn’t quite match what I see in front of me. Care to explain that?”
“I have been working out all summer, and hit a growth spurt.”
“We looked up public data for you—“
“Yeah, the photo in the article is old. Want me to do some higher math to prove it’s me? Come on, guys.”
“Okay, so assuming you’re Mark Prentiss where are your parents? The home is owned by your parents, is that right?”
“On their way home from overseas. I called them already.”
“Mm hmm. So was it a party that got out of hand, or what? Were you cooking meth? There were a lot of chemicals on the scene.”
“All legal and stored properly. Lightning struck the house. That’s it.”
Mark, we need some uninterrupted time urgently, and I advise against further interaction with law enforcement. While nothing we did was illegal, it would be unwise to encourage further investigation into your situation. Also, I am concerned about Devon.
Me too, I thought. The adrenaline had worn off more than two hours ago, and I was starving and a bit light headed now.
“I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. I’m hungry. My house just burned down. And until my lawyer is present, or until you come up with some stupid reason to charge me, I’m done.”
“Now just a minute, young man—” This from the thin, balding detective who’d immediately decided I was guilty and treated me like it. His partner, who looked like a rookie right out of central casting, seemed embarrassed by the whole thing.
“No. I have cooperated but this is ridiculous.” I stood up to my full height. “Do you have anything to charge me with? No? Then I suggest you let me go before Susserman and Shaw start building a case for damages.”
Grumpily, Detective Frank Jenkins agreed we were done and briskly left the room. His partner, Ben Adams, stayed with me. With Jenkins gone, Detective Adams’ body language shifted.
“Thought he’d never leave. Guess I can play good cop, huh? Look, call if you think of anything, or if you need to get the reports or anything,” he said, handing me a card. Our fingers brushed as I took it.
I looked at him, trying to read his expression. Then I realized he was sizing me up, and had been most of the evening. I was, I realized, not wearing very much—just loose shorts and a rather tight old tee shirt, and some sandals. And his glance was appreciative rather than accusatory.
“I like good cop better than whatever your partner was thinking,” I said.
“You have someplace you can stay?”
“I’m going to see about crashing with friends,” I said.
“I still think you should have gotten a more thorough batch of tests at the hospital,” he said.
“The on-site EMTs were plenty, thanks.”
“Even so. Anything changes, you should get checked out.” He had no idea how much had changed.
I nodded, thanked him, and went outside to call for a car.
“Mark? Gus. You’re a big one, no?” My Uber driver was all smiles and teeth and hair. I’d guess Turkish or something in that region.
“No sorry! It’s good! Plenty of room, I got big SUV.”
I texted Phil that I was on my way, and then pretended I was on the phone so I could chat more clearly with the AI.
Mark, this subterfuge will not stand up to much direct scrutiny. However, I should be able to discern your intent.
“Hey. Yeah, I know. Any news on Devon?”
I am well beyond range of Devon’s limited AI, and we were kept longer than anticipated. I will need to connect as soon as we are in range to assess the situation.
“I was afraid of that. Do I need to worry about the house, or the equipment?”
I am uncertain. Your personal computer, the equipment server, and the 3D printers, as well as the raw materials, are likely a total loss. However, the cloud backup should suffice to restore most capabilities once we have a new location in which to do so.
“So what actually happened?”
Weather monitoring sent out a storm alert as we were beginning work on Devon, and the storm’s official tracking proved inaccurate. At that time, I entered preservation mode, reverting to my core programming directives until the danger had passed. I immediately began to back up systems to the cloud while we continued with our work. Then, lightning struck the house—most likely drawn to the antenna and power cables on that side of the house. In addition, the extreme pulse seems to have disrupted some of my higher functions. I cannot run diagnostics without access to the cloud backup or comparative data, and it is likely the same is true for Devon’s nascent internal node.
“So basically it’s running on autopilot?”
Effectively. It should continue to implement the base instruction set and begin generating internal probes and nano mesh, in preparation for the more extensive alterations planned. However, while the base instructions were part of the initial burst of information, the more detailed and higher functions were in the process when lightning struck. I am unable to determine whether the full instructions were delivered.
“That doesn’t sound good. Can we use Phil’s computer to sort things out?” I figured he was still into gaming and probably had a hard-core rig.
We can attempt to do so. I cannot predict a success probability.
“Okay, I’ll talk later. Just text me any new information.” I pretended to hang up, and spied the driver, Gus, staring at me through the mirror.
“Everything okay man? What does a big body builder guy have to worry about?”
“It’s been a hell of a day,” I said truthfully. “Sorry, not in the mood to talk much right now. Can you step on it?”
“Okay bro. Sorry.”
“It’s cool,” I said. I glanced at the phone, and realized Phil hadn’t responded yet.
I tipped Gus well and absentmindedly flicked him a good rating as we pulled up at Phil’s place, or rather his parents’ house. It was pretty big, but he was living in a small apartment behind the garage. The lights were on but had a weird, blue quality to them, so I bounded up the driveway and knocked.
No answer. But then, the door wasn’t locked. It creaked open menacingly.
I fumbled and found the proper light switch, but it didn’t seem to work. The blue light came from the bedroom, so I cautiously approached.
Inside, Phil lay sprawled on his bed (well, on the mattress on the floor), while Devon lay naked—and glowing—next to him.
And beside them, on a very tricked out desk, a half dozen high-end computers strobed ominously as something akin to the Matrix code flashed across their screens…
I confess, I panicked a bit.
“What the hell is happening?”
Please make physical contact with Devon. I will be able to access his AI and assess any damage.
Please, wild horses couldn’t have kept me from Devon. If he’d been hurt because I wanted to get my rocks off—
Ouch! That was one hell of a spark! My whole hand stung, tingling like I’d stuck a fork in an outlet.
“What’s the situation?”
Rebooting. Preservation mode enabled. Re-enabling primary protocols.
Whew! Is everything okay?
Preliminary assessment follows: Devon is currently unconscious but does not appear to be harmed. The suit node appears undamaged; however, incomplete code download hampers further investigation. Attempting to re-deploy core codebase….
Why is my hand tingling?
Hello? Why is my hand tingling?
Insufficient data. However, it appears that a corrupted code base has caused an issue in Devon’s suit, likely due to the lightning strike. I am still assessing status. I advise allowing him to rest.
“I need to wake Phil.” I reached over and shook Phil, who gently roused. “Phil? You okay, buddy?”
“My head is killing me,” he said, sitting up and groaning. He slowly blinked himself awake, then jumped back against the headboard.
“Dude, what gives?”
“Um…fuck, I can’t get used to you like this.”
“It’s a bit more than I planned,” I said. “But focus, Phil. Tell me what happened?”
“Is your buddy okay?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. Talk to me.”
“Right. Okay, so I brought Devon home, and he started to wake up a bit on the way. So I explained who I was and that we needed to get inside. He seemed okay, so we sat down down here. He seemed a little out of it, but I don’t really know him at all, so I wasn’t sure. But when I came back in with some water, he grabbed me. Next thing I know, I’m waking up next to you.” He looked pointedly at me. “Now it’s your turn.”
“Short version? Built a strength-enhancing suit and an AI to help control it. Kinda overdid it, and it got my fantasies confused with my actual instructions. Spent most of the summer turning me into this.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I shit you not.”
“Fuck, that is so you—right out of one of your movies.” He was quiet for a moment. “So… that’s all real? The muscle?”
“Yeah, you can touch.”
He poked me, rather hard I thought.
“Solid,” he said. “So you took steroids?”
“Not really—it was other stuff. The AI and me, we found some old abandoned research, and we figured some stuff out, and I guess we kind of tweaked my body to grow. Actually, this is way beyond what I wanted, but… anyway, I’m like this now. Plus a kind of second skin that’s made of military-grade experimental armor. Um… actually it’s kind of everywhere, now. Nano stuff.”
“Jesus, Mark, you’re fucking Cap and Iron Man too?”
“Mistakes were made.”
“Fuck man, that’s not a mistake, it’s a super hero origin movie. Or two.”
“Devon said that too, kinda.”
“So unfair. I was always more into that shit, until you turned gay for all the Marvel guys.”
“Whatever. I’m just jealous. I always wanted the Chris Evans treatment. Looks like you got a twofer origin.” He leaned back, groaning. “So unfair. At least I still have the bigger….” he glanced down at my crotch, recalling the brief glimpse he’d had at the house. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Yeah, mistakes were made. I’m too big. Lesson learned—clear your browser history. The AI took its cues from some porn sites.”
“Yeah. So when Devon and I started…you know… I wasn’t this big. And now it’s… well, too big. So we were going to make sure Devon could… um, without hurting himself.”
He burst out laughing. “Serves you right.”
“Hey, man, the point was to make it safe. At least for now, until I can fix… this,” I said, gesturing vaguely down.
“Your parents know?”
“They know I’m gay and I’ve been working out all summer. They don’t know about Devon. They haven’t seen me, though.”
“Yeah, and you burned down the house too, so that should go well.”
“Fuck you, man.”
“Dude, I’m trying not to freak out here. How are you not freaking out?”
That was a good question. “I think my AI might have released some chemicals to keep me calm.”
“This is the same AI that forced you to grow into some fantasy fucker? Is that even safe?”
“Good question. AI?”
Mark, you requested I help you maintain your equilibrium.
“I want you to ask every time.”
Acknowledged. However, you are still in danger. As is Devon.
“You spacing out or something, Mark?”
“Um… no, I’m talking with the AI.”
“Ask it what’s going on with my computers. I almost didn’t realize they were on!”
Devon’s AI node was corrupted and could not find sufficient space to run full diagnostics. It seems to have coopted the storage and processing power of Phil’s computers, but due to corrupt code and being in full preservation mode, it saw Phil as a potential threat.
“So…it panicked and knocked my friend out?”
Apparently. Possibly this is lingering subroutines from the military code you used. I am attempting a full code review and have seized control of two of Phil’s computers for that purpose. But the other AI is actively countering my efforts because it cannot complete its diagnostics.
“Looks like Devon’s AI and mine are locking each other out,” I said.
“Of your computers, which are needed for extra processing power and storage. Also Devon. Or more precisely, his AI controller’s in full defense mode.”
“Okay, I am freaking out a bit now,” Phil said.
Mark, I believe it will be possible to correct Devon’s malfunctioning AI node if we are in direct contact. However it may cause pain to him, because his restructuring is not yet complete.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I do not understand.
“Are you sure this isn’t just some weird fetish thing where you want to hump on my bed?”
“It’s what the AI says will work.”
“Whatever. I’ll go order some Chinese. You think Devon will wake up?”
“Yeah, order plenty of food. Lots of protein. I’ll cover you when I get my shit together.” I promised.
He left, and I looked over my lover of the past few months. The suit was visible as a fine, faintly glowing sheen to his chocolate skin, and beneath it, his body gently throbbed. He snored ever so softly in a way I found endearing.
Fuck, this was difficult. I knew he’d wanted to fuck, but he wasn’t exactly able to give permission—and wouldn’t be, if I didn’t do this. There wasn’t much choice for me but I still wished there were some way for him to say yes. And rather than the usual lovemaking we’d engaged in, this would be entirely one-sided.
At a thought, my immense dick was extremely hard and ready. My copious pre made an excellent lube, but it seemed like his ass had already begun remodeling for pliancy, so my fingers proved little problem. My enormous pecker was another story, but with a bit of effort—gently—I was in, and slowly slid into place. His hole gripped me deliciously, and I continued to push, fearing harm.
Somewhere around 14 inches, I bottomed out in him. His body, on autopilot I guess, began to grip along my length and little moan escaped his lips.
Full intercourse is not required. Please attempt to maintain sustained contact—————ZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT!
Fuck that same electric tingling ran right up my dick and into my spine, and I felt myself lose all control—I began vigorously fucking with everything I had, and immediately began to flood my friend with more juice than I’d have ever thought possible. Except of course my nuts were still in high production mode, weren’t they? Still, I couldn’t think straight at all, and somewhere around my tenth explosion, I blacked out again….
“Dude…wake up” said an insistent but familiar voice.
“Yeah, and I am not coming in there again. I don’t need to see what you guys are doing.”
We didn’t appear to be doing it any longer, but I was still inside Devon. Should be safe enough to pull out now, right?
Yes, Mark. Synchronization and updates are underway. I will alert you when Devon approaches wakefulness. He is progressing as expected.
I was nearly up to the hilt in my boyfriend, and given that I was frikking enormous, I was concerned about any damage I might have done. Slowly, and with more than one wince, I began pulling out, still pretty hard myself. Devon’s dick bobbed against his lower tummy, looking delicious and ready to spurt.
But as I pulled out, something felt odd. I backed slowly away, concerned despite the torture of my sensitive glams rubbing against his innards. He didn’t make any noise at all, but I may have moaned a little. The problem quickly became obvious.
“Fuck, I grew again?”
It was unforeseen, but necessary, and you were unconscious. I acted out of concern for your safety and Devon’s, in accordance with my directives.
Goddammit, eighteen inches was freakish enough, but my newly remodeled dick was probably a few inches larger now.
Correct. My readings show 50.4 cm, approximately 19.8 inches. You were unable to directly contact the node without this enhancement.
I was annoyed but pretty thoroughly drained, so I thankfully went flaccid pretty fast. But I was still well into obscene. The sweat pants did little to conceal, especially with monster veins leading down between the twin crevasses of my Adonis belt. Still, it was just Phil.
“Chopsticks are over there,” he said warily, pouring water for both of us. “Tons of rice, beef and broccoli, Kung pao chicken, and Hunan pork. Dig in. I imagine you need a lot of food.”
“Yeah, thanks, sorry for dragging you into this…”
“Bros help. Right? Gotta tell you though, I never expected this.”
“No big. Food okay?”
“It’s really good, actually.”
“Best takeout in town. Also, apparently, the cutest delivery boy, if you like tall Chinese dudes.”
“Relax, I don’t, but figured you might. I may be straight, but I’m not blind—dude was attractive. And thanks to someone coming out to me and making me reevaluate my whole life, I am comfortable enough in my manhood to notice this shit now.”
He looked at me a little guiltily.
“If anyone is sorry, it should be me, for kinda dropping out on you this summer. Obviously I missed some stuff. But it was still shitty to not reply to you.”
“I figured you were busy,” I said, quietly, between chews.
“Dude, I was avoiding you and it was a dick move. I had to figure out a bunch of stuff, and then my cousins were here and one of them came out too. I couldn’t get my head around it. Everyone I knew was suddenly gay—”
“I was kind of always gay, you know that right?”
“Yeah, but…look it’s stupid, I know, but I started second guessing our whole friendship and my own feelings, and finally my mom sat me down and talked it out with me. I freaked, and she was really cool. Apparently she had this figured out around when we were eight, and was waiting for the cork to pop.”
“Yeah. I mean, I tried to be cool with you, I really did, but it threw me. I mean, I didn’t think I was gay, but I liked you, even if I didn’t want to fool around or anything. You’re my best friend. But what if you just wanted to make me gay or something? Yeah. So I was stupid and she was cool and helped me get my shit together. I was headed over to see if I’d fucked up for good when all this happened.”
“If I hug you, you’re not gonna freak are you?” I asked.
“Stupid. If you hug me you’ll probably crack my ribs.”
So my bestie and I were doing okay, just like that. It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and now that the air was mostly clear, I felt much better. Still, I worried about the repercussions and I worried about Devon. It was all getting out of hand.
Mark, Devon is about to awaken. He will need a stabilizing solution, but primarily that will require protein and some of your fluids.
I asked Phil for some raw eggs and a blender, but he did me one better—he had some of his mom’s diet shakes and some protein powder. He found my secret ingredient a little gross and told me I had to scrub out the blender with bleach after we were done.
“Whoa!” Devon shouted from the other room.
“Coming,” I said, and hurried in with the blender and a straw.
“Mark! Wow, you look amazing, did it work?” His eyes widened. “Holy fuck.”
“That’s probably your AI talking to you,” I said. “You’ll get used to it.”
His eyes darted back and forth, and then tentatively reached down under the covers.
“Whoa. Shit, man. This is surreal. Wait where are we?”
“We are at my best friend Phil’s place, and he’s in the other room. I’ll introduce you in a minute. Drink this while I fill you in,” I said, handing him the pitcher.
While he sucked down the blender contents, I could tell he was trying to pay attention but was having trouble focusing on just me.
“Sorry, my suit voice thing keeps interrupting,” he said. “This is so weird, I can see a three dee map of my whole body projected into my eyes. Damn! I wish you could see this, it’s so cool.”
Would you like to see this as well? It is an image of Devon’s modified form.
I dodged, and instantly saw the same scan.
“Hey, Mark, I have some questions,” Devon said, cocking his head.
“So do I,” I said. “Starting with what they actually did to you. Because that looks a lot more extensive than we talked about.”
I can answer that, Mark. I anticipate you will be unhappy, however, because I was forced to improvise. Not just with you, but with Devon. It was necessary. The other AI was supposed to heed my commands, but the corruption meant that it rejected my authority. In addition, there was unexpected feedback due to a lingering static charge.
I’d felt that, too.
I was unable to directly apply the chosen design, and instead had to work to re-educate Devon’s AI to ensure pliancy. Please note that preservation safeguards remain in place as do primary directives.
“Um, Mark? Mine keeps saying that I need to obtain significant materials and nutrients very soon. And it keeps saying something else….”
“What is it saying?”
“Whoa, it’s showing me some plans, and now…. what is phase two?”
A loud growl from my stomach (or possibly Devon’s) shook me out of the moment.
Without thinking, I took Devon’s hand to help him out of bed.
“Yeah,” I replied. Just touching him seemed erotic. I didn’t have time to spend another hour fucking around.
I will adjust the feedback, you are still in expanded sensitivity mode. With your permission?
Oh, better. Much less distracting.
“Thats so…. why is it so fucking hot to touch your hand?”
“Tell your AI to dial back the erotic sensitivity,” I explained, gently. “You will need to provide some active guidance until it gets better at figuring you out.”
I helped him to his feet—he seemed almost weightless to me with my enhanced strength—and together we got to the little kitchen where Phil waited. He was eating a dumpling—using a fork, to my annoyance.
“Before you say anything, they forgot to give me chopsticks,” he said. “You’ll have to make do. Also, these dumplings are mine, the rest is yours. I’m guessing you guys can eat like a beast these days, so I got a ton of food.”
“That smells amazing,” Devon said. “You must be Phil. Sorry about all this.”
“Don’t be sorry, you guys have had enough worries. Dig in.”
I had nearly forgotten how much sheer quantity of food I was eating when the suit was first integrating, but it felt like Devon was out eating me. I was hungry, of course, but he ate like a man possessed. Which I suppose he was.
While Devon greedily sucked back a quart of soup and powered through some beef lo mein, I covered some basic logistics with Phil.
“First thank you so much, buddy. You may have saved our lives. Second, are your parents around?”
“They should be home tonight.”
“Think they’d mind if we crashed with you?”
“Probably not,” he mused. “They might freak seeing you, though. Oh shit, man, what about your folks?”
“I’m going to have to deal with that when they arrive.”
Your parents have a hotel booked and have made some arrangements already. They have also sent several messages while you were otherwise occupied.
“Speaking of, give me a sec,” I begged. I spent a little while replying to their messages and checking a few options. They were doing what they could from the plane, but with the AI’s help, we had taken advantage of online bookings systems and soon had insurance auditors and other practical things lined up. Anything that didn’t require human interaction was set, and all I could do was await returned messages for the rest. The big remaining concern was actually seeing them, or rather them seeing me. I couldn’t exactly hide what I’d become, but the question was how much to tell them.
“Take all the time you need.”
“Wait, didn’t I just ignore you for like ten minutes?”
He is referring to the accelerated perception you displayed. Our link allows you to process digital actions far more quickly.
“I’m already done.” I took another bite. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Seriously that couldn’t have been ten seconds, much less ten minutes.”
“Damn, boy, you got another super power,” Devon said. “Now you wanna be Cyborg too? He ain’t even Marvel.”
Phil was lost, so between mouthfuls of garlic pork, I explained.
“That’s so neat,” he said. “But also a little scary.”
“Speaking of scary,” Devon said, “now that I’m almost full, we gotta talk about phase two.”
Phil looked confused.
“Someone wanna explain?
“Might be easier to display what the AI is saying so we are all on the same page,” I said. Phil’s TV screen turned on and the AI hijacked the streaming device.
Devon’s AI remains in protective mode. As such I can only add to the code base while maintaining direct contact. However, I did manage to reinforce the key protections you overlaid my directives with. I cannot be certain how effective my safeguards will be without frequent direct contact.
“Does that mean more sex? Because we gotta set up some boundaries, man…” Phil moaned.
Phase one for Mark was to achieve your initial suit goals of strength enhancement, plus the directives I deduced while learning to interface with you. That phase is complete and you have been enhanced to the degree possible while still within the bounds of human possibility. Phase one for Devon was primarily to enhance his ability to satisfy your sexual needs without injury, and to add some “extras” associated with the bonding we have already undergone. I project only two days are needed to accommodate that goal, as the nanotechnology has become much more efficient.
Phase two addresses the option to pursue more fantastic alterations. Among your possible goals are sizes, shapes, and configurations that are not possible while you are bound by human norms and genetics. Safeguards are in place to preserve your core systems, but I have been learning at a significant rate how to decentralize my own programming. I project that it may be possible to do that with your core self as well. That is a longer term goal, however. Phase two represents a hybrid mode, in which you would have more direct control over your form as needed.
Phil and Devon’s eyes were like saucers.
“That is some serious sci-fi shit,” Devon said.
“Is that even, I dunno, safe?”
My core programming demands safety for Mark Prentice. Phase two will increase his safety, as his physical form will become more durable and adaptable. With Phase Three, his core software will be resistant to deletion or obsolescence.
“And me?” Devon asked.
Ensuring your safety is a secondary goal for me, but your own AI has been tasked with your safety and enhancement. It is effectively a clone of my core, but will evolve to meet your requirements.
“So I’m gonna be like Mark?”
I am uncertain. Your initial requirements were geared to specific modifications. However, your AI has proven resistant to external directives. I believe as you integrate more fully, you will be able to reach an understanding.
For a few moments, nobody said a word. Then Phil broke the silence.
Phil looked at me seriously. “Can you disable that thing for a minute?” I nodded and did so.
“Mark, have you gone crazy or something?” Phil asked.
“I told you…”
“Yeah, you did, but I never really understood until just now. You built that thing to make you strong, right? And you said it got confused about what you really wanted, so instead of a suit you have—”
“A much more integrated suit.”
“And it’s in your head,” Phil persisted. “Maybe that’s why you can’t see this. You said it can alter your brain chemistry and hormones. Maybe it doesn’t want you to see this.”
“This? What ‘this’?”
“Dude, if you change everything about your body, are you even you anymore?”
“Wow, really? What’s with all the deep philosophical stuff? And you always give me grief about—”
“I’m serious, man,” he said. “I have spent half the summer wrestling with who I am, and who you are. You are my friend and I don’t want to lose you. I almost lost you once because I’m stupid, but you don’t have that excuse.”
He stomped off into the bedroom, and Devon gave me a really uncomfortable look. Then the door opened again, and Phil came out with a blanket and a pillow.
“I’m wiped. I’ll crash for a bit on the couch. You guys take the bed if you want,” he said. “I need a few hours if I’m going to drive you to meet your folks. Might want to figure out how to solve that problem while you decide if you want to rewrite your DNA or whatever.”
My grumpy friend had a point. Well, two. One, he was right about timing—I had a few hours before I’d be expected to deal with my folks. And two, well….. yeah, I wasn’t 100% certain about where the line between me and sentient nano-goo might be. I needed some me time to think it through, so I left the AI in silent mode and instructed it to alert me when my folks landed.
Devon was tired, too, exhausted from his still evolving transformation. He curled up pretty quickly on the bed, but I sat typing away at Phil’s desk for a while, losing myself for a bit while I got started on paperwork and lining things up. My folks called but couldn’t talk just then. I shot them a quick text but there was no reply—a quick consult of their itinerary showed they’d be in the air for another few hours. I had a little time, at least, to figure out what to say.
“You guys still alive?”
This from Phil, poking his head in the door. His eyes were shut.
“Please tell me you’re not still going at it,” he said. “On my bed. Either way, you’re washing those sheets after we all shower.”
“I’m awake,” I said. “Didn’t sleep great. Devon’s still asleep.”
Inaccurate. Devon is now awake, but may not be fully articulate; he is fully occupied acclimatizing to his AI.
“Sorry, he’s kinda out of it for a bit longer. But I’m starving. If you have food, I can cook, it’s the least I can do.”
“Already ahead of you. I need about fifteen more minutes and the bacon will be done. I’ll do a quick frittata.” Oh, right. Phil liked to cook. For me it was more of a necessary life skill, but he was actually good at it. “Maybe lover boy will be awake by then.” He ducked back out. I heard music start in the kitchen, probably an effort to tune us out politely.
“I’m awake,” Devon said. “I feel weird.”
“I know the feeling.”
“No,” he said. “I mean, I’m still trying to figure boundaries out with Sparky here. Been arguing in my head for a while, but that’s not really it. I mean, physically, I feel weird.”
I looked him over with a practiced—and somewhat enhanced—eye. My AI interpreted my intent and fed me vitals.
“You’re a little flush, but that make sense. There’s a lot going on under the hood.”
“This is gonna sound weird, but my ass ….” he hesitated…. “my ass feels weirdly empty.”
“Yeah. And I’m hungry.”
“Working on part of that, if you missed it. But the other—well, you know what we talked about.”
“I’m a little scared to test it out.”
We eyed each other awkwardly for a moment, then he shook his head. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Take a look?”
“I’ll send you video if you want.”
“Damn that’s weird. Cool, but weird. For now, just tell me, okay?” He threw off the covers.
Devon gingerly rolled over and positioned himself to showcase his ass; the minute he did, a scent hit me—hard. It wasn’t the normal smell of sex or ass, smells I’d grown accustomed to lately. This was almost a cinnamon scent with a hint of—something….
Whatever it was, it was enticing, and my monstrous dick sprung an epic, 20-inch boner, firmly lodged in my pecs. I ached for him. My heart thudded in my chest and I felt a little dizzy.
Devon is producing a scent and pheromones geared specifically for your arousal.
At that precise moment, I felt like the entire universe was built for my arousal. I reached out with a shaky hand to touch his fantastic and perfect ass.
The moment I did, the arousal ramped up, as his small brown pucker irised open.
“Holy fuck,” I said, but my tongue had other plans. I’d never rimmed anyone before, but Devon had teased my ass before with his tongue.
Your inexperience will matter little. Your mere touch will cause adequate response, even without my amplifying the feedback for you. Would you like me to show you a technique video?
No, I thought. I need to do this myself.
I practically dove into him, parting his cheeks with two large hands and planting my face deep within. I breathed in his essence, barely noticing that his smell was completely lacking in the usual bacterial and fecal scents one would expect down there. His entire ass was hairless and smooth, and his soft, curly leg hair sparse on his thighs. But I barely noticed that, either, not consciously.
My tongue darted to his pucker and began to tease it; every tiny touch was like silk and before I knew it I’d planted my tongue as far in as it would go. There I found a nectar, a spiced lubricating fluid not unlike pre-cum, and my tongue could not get enough of it.
I barely notice Devon flailing helplessly in pleasure; my whole world was focused where my mouth and his ass met, and where my tongue continued to explore. I’d never tasted anything like it, and each dart and lick of my tongue caused more of it to seep out.
You should find the fluid very pleasant to ingest, though it is intended primarily to ease your passage into him.
I want more, how can I get more, give me more!
I anticipated your desire to please Devon through this technique. May I activate something that will allow you to do so?
And to my shock, my tongue—strained at what had been maximum length—seemed to suddenly shoot forth with an odd snapping sensation. New, raw tastebuds and sensory input flooded my mind but was quickly disrupted by a sudden tightening of his hole around my entire tongue. It was more than I could stand, and I blew my first load of the day.
Above me, Devon gasped and moaned even more, and I could tell he’d just shot an epic load himself.
Your tongue has been enhanced, Mark. Previously, it was approximately 3.4 inches—8.6 cm. It can now extend up to 22.8 cm or 9 inches when you wish it to do so. You should be able to retract it to normal length by deciding to do so.
Seriously? Of course I tried. Yup, I could certainly do that thing. And I had really good control over it. I tentatively stuck out my tongue, then stuck it out further—and licked my own eyebrow.
Devon rolled over smiling, and chuckled. “Well, that’s a super power they won’t show on TV!” He lazily probed his crack with his fingers as I leaned back panting.
“Whoa, that smell is me?”
“Apparently. Your magical butt is literally built to drive me wild. I mean, it was before, but now it’s actually true.” We both giggled stupidly.
A growl—still not really sure which of us produced it—from someone’s empty stomach broke the moment. Food.
Phil had a nice little spread set up, and we walked in just as the frittata came out from the broiler. There was a mound of bacon and four slices of sourdough waiting for us too. Phil quickly served up piping hot eggs while I poured us each a coffee.
We happily tucked in—Phil was a good cook—but I noticed an odd look on my friend’s face.
“It’s the oddest thing,” he said. “I keep smelling cinnamon, but there isn’t any in any of this stuff.”
We never did tell him why we laughed so hard at that.