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|It was a room like any other here at Main Office. Antiseptic, void of design or personality, holding a simple bed with white linen, another door Maddox knew was the closet, a desk with a monitor on it and keyboard in front of that, a chair, a small couch and no windows. What was there to look at? "Ah, home at last."
He motioned Scott in first and followed after, shutting the door behind them and slipping his tall, wide frame onto the couch. Scott pulled out the chair and spun it around, straddling it and resting his crossed arms on the back. "Okay," he said, "why are you here?" "Direct as usual," Lassiter replied, looking unsurprised. "Simplest answer? Ego, I guess. I mean, the stuff worked, right? And it worked pretty fucking well. And the whole scientific community was laughing at me."
"The whole scientific community had no notion of what you were doing."
"Of course they had a notion. I'm a geneticist working for the government, and more specifically for an agency no one ever speaks of. A notion is the least of what they had." He rubbed a hand through his hair, pushing the flowing locks off his forehead. Maddox couldn't help but watch the man's bicep swell like a balloon, overrun with fibers and cables of power. "Anyway, it bugged me. You know how a thing can get in there and burrow, and you try to ignore it but it just won't go away? And maybe the stuff made my ego more powerful too. More likely it was always that way. Whatever the cause, I decided to come back in and, sort of...." He shook his head. "I dunno. I just needed someone to know."
"Remind me to give you my number next time."
"A joke? From Scott Maddox?"
"I'm a funny guy, Dr. Lassiter. You just never noticed."
"Please call me Jerry, Scott. Do I look like Dr. Lassiter?" Maddox wavered his hand, smirking. "Fucker," Jerry said, grinning.
"I told you I was a funny guy, Jerry."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot already." He lay back against the cushions, sprawling his legs out and stretching his huge frame.
"Was it hard getting used to it?"
"What? This?" He bent his arms and gestured at his torso. The shirt stretched across the contours of his massive muscularity. He seemed to swell slightly larger. "At first, sure. I mean, I was never a big guy. Now I'm suddenly the biggest. I'm constantly horny -- which was never a real problem until... lately. I'm totally aware of my body all the time, the feeling of its power and size. Keeping myself shrunk like this isn't easy, especially for long periods. And at first I kept breaking things. Trees, buildings, the usual. And you have to sort of monitor how you move. I weigh quite a lot more that is apparent, but you learn to use the air to support you, sort of like a cusion. It's weird, but handy. But being so big, I'm still not used to that. I look down at myself and think, `this isn't me.' When I look in the mirror I'm surprised every time. And my face. I get hard looking at myself. It's shocking."
"You're telling me."
Jerry grinned. "And I'm toned down, you know."
Maddox nodded. "I saw the pictures."
"Ah. Well, that was toned down, too. I'll fucking make you cum if I'm full power." He noted Scott's doubtful smirk. "I'm not shitting you."
"I know," he answered. "So you came back, you show yourself off, you're expecting... what?"
"Dunno, really. I suppose it was stupid, knowing the military mind like I do."
"Present company excepted."
"Of course. You know they've ordered me not to transform anyone. Ordered me, as if I were still on the payroll." He grinned, looking particularly lascivious.
"Do I gather from your expression that you haven't quite abided by those wishes?"
"I've been a very good boy, cross my heart." He did so, etching an X in the middle of his brawny chest. "And it's been very hard."
He glanced at Jerry's groin. "I imagine."
He leaned forward, his eyes intense. He missed the implication. "No, you can't. You can't imagine. Because doing it, making another man over, transforming him into his perfect self is... it's better than sex. In some ways. It really is. And I've been secluded down here for a week and...." He licked his lips and allowed his eyes to scan Scott's prime meat. "It's been very hard."
"I'm off limits, too."
"I've been told." He was still smiling.
"What's kept you from doing just as you please, anyway? God knows there isn't much they can do to stop you. Hell, Jerry, from what I read you could start releasing that pheromone scent your body produces and down here, away from the outside world in a controlled environment, it wouldn't take long before the whole place was one screaming orgasmic muscle fuck. The guys'd be so big that the walls would burst."
"I know." He tilted his head and sighed. "But I made a promise, and I know that sounds dumb, but I keep my promises."
"Why promise anything?"
"I have my reasons," he replied enigmatically. Maddox hated secrets, even though he probably held more than anyone. "But, uhhh...." His hand moved under his shirt, revealing a hairless belly of tight, rippled power.
"I was just wondering, Scott." His hand crawled higher, and his other moved to the button fly of his jeans.
"Yeah?" Maddox kept in eye contact with him, knowing what he was doing. He expected this, and was a little surprised the guy didn't attack him as soon as the door was closed.
"All that teasing you used to do?" The shirt was now shoved high on his torso, showing ample amounts of gleaming, silken skin covering more raw muscle that Scott had ever seen. The shirt evidently was not made of cotton, because the material moved like a plastic film. It looked like cotton, but it was extremely thin and elastic, whatever it was.
"When you would say things like, `watch where you're putting that thermometer, Dr. Lassiter. I might think you're coming on to me'?" His fingers popped one button of his pants, then another, and a third. A glistening wealth of dark pubic curls erupted out from his flat pelvic region.
"Uh huh." Scott smiled. The man had a good memory.
"Or the time you told me I had a nice ass and I shouldn't hide it under my lab coat?" The hand pulled at the T-shirt. There was no ripping noise, but it seemed to tear apart.
"I think so."
"And when you promised that if I ever decided to `try hitting for the other team,' you'd be there to play catch with me?" The shirt was all but gone. Lassiter's upper body was a roadmap of perfect muscular beauty, hairless and without flaw. His huge chest was capped with dark, round nipples that poked up half an inch high. Something was happening to his body as Scott watched, to his face as well. His beauty was magnifying, as was his muscular size and the perfection of the shape and contour and balance of his total brawn.
"I recall something like that, yes."
Jerry leaned forward, his body swelling thicker with power, his face becoming a vision of male beauty nearly impossible to resist, and a huge cock was splitting wide his tight jeans and spilling forward, growing longer and thicker every second. His voice was a growl of tightly suppressed animal lust. He was a beast rattling the cage. His hunger was unbound. "Did you mean it?"
"Why Dr. Lassiter," he answered, standing up to show off the raging hard-on pressing forcefully against his fly, "I never thought you'd ask."
Making love was not a phrase that leapt to mind when Maddox had a moment to consider Lassiter's technique. The guy might be huge, beautiful, incredibly flexible and willing to try anything, but it was also clear that somewhere down inside this vision of male perfection there lived the middle-aged, sexually frustrated, emotionally pent-up doctor that Scott took great enjoyment out of kidding.
Jerry wasn't awkward, certainly. His body wouldn't allow that. But he was overanxious and pushed too hard and didn't seem to enjoy the act as much as he might have. Unquestionably, the man was possessed of a need that overwhelmed him. His body demanded constant attention now, both sensually and sexually. He had curtailed what were probably several days of constant fucking with whomever else he was with, but his time at Main Office meant he probably only had himself to himself, with lots of jerking off and long showers.
Now he had a partner with whom he could sate that overwhelming hunger, but for Maddox, whose experience in these areas probably outstripped anyone else within several hundred miles, fucking Jerry was like having an overeager teen who wanted to get off and could care less who was inside the other body.
The fact that Lassiter had never been with a man who was not likewise gifted with his collection of muscle, growth, sunsualized touch, pheromonal attractants and various other superhuman traits wasn't helping matters. Maddox could hardly imagine what it must have been like for the old doctor. One minute he's a balding intellectual with the sex drive of a brick and a body that probably couldn't even control its bladder very well, the next he's a supersexed stud with two hungry cocks and a body so strong and beautiful that he could make himself cum just glancing in the mirror.
Maddox thought he would use his vast and powerful arsenal of moves and words on the guy and together they'd reach places he'd only dreamed of with others. He didn't have the saturation of powers that Lassiter had, but he had a hint of them in his own subtly altered genetic make-up. He thought he knew what to expect, and he was looking forward to it at least as much as Jerry needed to get off.
But the phrases he used most often were "slow down, Jerry" and "not so much."
Lassiter, to his credit, was very accommodating and more than willing to do anything Scott suggested. His body was accepting all of Maddox's expert handling and, every once in a while, Scott could feel Jerry feeding it back through the Touch. But he knew they wouldn't last a minute if he was pumped full of that stuff -- it made him feel like his whole body was a thrusting, throbbing, rock-hard dick.
So when Scott pulled away before either one of them had managed to pop, the look on Jerry's gorgeous face almost made him laugh out loud. Apparently, this had never happened to the man. None of his other partners ever stopped, it was more likely that they went for hours at a time lost to the powerful passions and unearthly strength that flowed through them both.
Jerry looked like a puppy denied his bone. "Hold on," Scott ordered, pulling his body away from Lassiter's strong and hungry embrace. They were both slick with sweat and a very perfume of something very masculine filled the space between them. Scott's boner was hard and red, jerking with every beat of his heart, and his own muscular form felt pumped and hot. He was justly proud of his body. He was no Schwarzenegger, but he could give someone like Bill Davey a run for his money. He was prime meat, and right now the blood was pumping into every muscle and his skin was flush and warm.
But compared with the man with the puppydog eyes still leaning toward him with nothing but need in that gaze, he looked like PeeWee Herman.
Jerry was larger now than when they had started. Maybe this happened unintentionally; maybe he just couldn't help himself. But either way, he was now about seven and a half feet tall, more than a foot taller than Maddox, and his body was a landscape of mountainous brawn bulging hard and thick under his tanned and buttersoft flesh. Scott couldn't grow limp if he wanted to, but there were a few words he wanted to say.
"What's wrong?" Jerry was using the Voice. It passed into Scott and shook him to his toes. Jesus god but that was unfair. He had to pinch his eyes closed and concentrate very hard to overcome a sudden desire to jump the guy's bones and fuck him into the floor.
He held his hand out as if to push the feeling away. "Jer... Jerry... wait, wait just a second." He was pulling air into his lungs, but every breath was saturated with the strong smell of the man before him and each one entered his body like fire and went right to his cock. "We need to take a pause for... for a minute. Just... wait." His chest was rising and falling, and it took all his mental powers to hold himself back.
"Did I hurt you?" He sounded genuinely concerned.
That voice shook Scott again, and he swallowed hard. He shook his head. "No, that's not... not it." His hand was still held up and he took a moment to collect himself as best he could. "Jerry, you haven't... you weren't... before the transformation, when was..."
"What's wrong," the beautiful man asked again, leaning forward and starting to move to pull Scott back into his huge, strong arms.
"This..." He was pointing. "This is what's missing."
"What? What am I doing?"
"Emotion. Concern. Sharing." He pinched his eyes shut again and sucking in a deep breath to clear his head. His whole body felt incredibly great. Just being in the same room was... overpowering. But he had to get this out, now. This was important. "You... okay. Okay. Let me... Jerry, you have the physical thing down. I don't think... you could fail to get that part right, but fucking involves another organ you aren't using at all and if you want..."
Jerry leaned back, pushing his wet hair from his face. His skin was glowing. "I know," he answered softly. "I know what you want." And suddenly his other dick sprouted from his loins, blooming like a limb, swelling and lengthening until both his ample monsters were a foot long and thick as a table leg.
"No, not that organ." His eyes couldn't help but stay glued to the collection of raw and powerful sex lying between the man's thighs.
"Oh! I know!" And in front of Scott's eyes, the man before him became another man. His sandy hair darkened to black, a thick carpet of curls sprouted across his chest and belly and spread wider across his groin, his muscles seemed to thicken and separate creating a deeply defined collection of hard brawn, his skin darkened, his eyes became an impossible jade green and a mustache and goatee developed on his chin and upper lip, spreading along his jaw and muscled neck as a shadow of darkness. If Maddox had ever encountered him, he'd recognize that he was now sitting opposite Chuck. "I noticed that a lot of guys like this look better."
"No, you don't understand, it's not..."
"Or this one?" He was changing again. The hair on his body receded somewhat, his muscles smoothed and refined themselves, his short shock of dark straight locks flowed out into a cascade of black waves that hung to his shoulders and kept going. His skin took on a sheen of health and beauty almost beyond belief, and then his face resolved into a collection of features that made Scott rethink his ideas of masculine beauty. Now Jerry was Michael, uncontestedly the most beautiful man he himself had ever encountered. He smiled and Scott's dick hardened. He tilted his head and pulled his hand up to his fat, firm chest. He was perfection.
Scott looked at the breathtaking vision before him and wanted nothing more than to fal into his embrace and find heaven. But this wasn't helping matters. Lassiter was still thinking externally. Certainly he was goddam amazing to look at, but he'd still be Jerry. "It isn't that, Jerry. You're beautiful no matter what you look like."
"You don't want me more like this?" He sounded perplexed.
Scott nodded, gulping. "Of course I do. But, I want YOU, Jerry. And I'm not getting you, am I?"
"I'm not sure I understand. Just tell me who you want me to be, what I should look like, and I'll be him. I can be anyone."
But he tapped his forehead and said, "I don't want anyone. I want you, the real one. This one, inside. You're not this one."
"I want to be with you, Jerry. Who you are. I'm not with you." Jerry's features and body resolved back into the more youthful man he had been before the morphing. Scott smiled, thinking it logical that the old man wanted to be young again. And in a sense, that was what Scott was trying to make him -- to start over again.
"I didn't think..."
"Exactly!" Maddox interrupted him. "You're just... fucking." He sighed a soft hot breath and brought his gaze up to meet Jerry's. "Look, I can't explain this, but maybe I can show you." He sat forward and took a breath. The air was thick with Jerry's brawn. "I'm going to kiss you, but I don't want you to do anything. Understand?" Lassiter nodded. "Okay." Scott started across the floor toward Jerry and moved his body on top of Lassiter's, their slick skin colliding and sliding across each other. A heat was rising from Jerry's hugeness, but the man was true to his word and simply lay there, unmoving.
Scott settled his weight against Jerry, straddling him with his hot, throbbing dick pressed against Jerry's hard belly and cupped his face in his hands, tilting his beautiful countenance and pressing his lips to the man's mouth. It was a tender kiss, soft and gentle, no tongues involved. He kissed him with passion, tenderly, delicately. And he felt Jerry kissing him back, but an eagerness overtook him and Lassiter opened his mouth. Scott pulled back and shook his head, whispering, "Don't do anything."
They kissed again. Slowly. Scott moved his mouth against Jerry's, brushing their lips together. Lassiter's were soft, luxurious, wonderful to touch. Scott could feel the man shudder in his hands. He could feel him start to grow under him, so he pulled back again and this time squeezed his legs together around Lassiter's swelling body. "Stop," he whispered again. "Let me do this."
He bent his head and kissed Jerry again. Time slowed down. He reached his fingers into Lassiter's wealth of sandy hair and rubbed his fingertips against the back of his head. He could feel Jerry relax beneath him, feel his body finally giving in and giving up control.
He parted his lips slightly and darted his tongue to Jerry's mouth, painting a slickness on his lips he kissed away the next moment.
Finally, Scott was making love to Jerry. It wasn't two strong men wrestling each other into sexual submission, it wasn't a race to the finish, no longer a competition to see who was stronger or sexier or more powerful. It was one person and another and they were sharing each other, tenderly, slowly, and lovingly. Two men in worship of each other and of their joining, of their common desires and mutual passion.
Maddox knew he would be spending a lot of time with Lassiter, and he knew that a lot of that time would be spent like this. There was no way he could keep up with the man sexually, his body just wasn't equipped. So he had to train him now to take things slow, to enjoy the moment and be with him fully, not just physically.
Scott was in charge at first, moving his hard body against Jerry's, until Jerry finally relinquished himself and joined in, not trying to lead or to follow, but recognizing the cues Scott gave him. And maybe for the first time ever, Dr. Jerry Lassiter made love with another man. The cock was not the object, it was the whole man he was after, every bit of him inside and out. He was with Scott, now, not merely pressing against him. His hands found their way along Scott's wonderful and talented body and caressed him, embraced him, held him and stroked him.
For Maddox, it was everything, now, he had imagined it to be. The man's body was joined with his head more closely than other men. He just had to get his brain engaged in what they were doing and the body would follow naturally. And once Lassiter slowed down and fell into the act, he was better than even Maddox ever was. It was as if the light bulb went off over Lassiter's head, he was a different man altogether, no longer some poor stud going through the motions aiming for the target, but a man making love, passionate love, wanting to give and receive with equal measure, finally listening to himself and his lover both.
Tipton watched the scene from his office. Every room was under constant surveillance. Maddox knew that. There was no such thing as privacy anywhere, really. There were three cameras in Lassiter's quarters. He didn't know whether Lassiter realized this or not, but Tipton had never informed him.
The two men were screwing, that much was clear. Or at least they had been until Maddox suddenly stopped and pulled apart from Lassiter's rather eager attentions. Tipton listened to Maddox's words with detachment. He knew better than to question Maddox's methods. He'd seen the man fucking any number of people, women and men -- sometimes both at the same time. But he'd never seen this. Was the major giving the doctor lessons in fucking? What the hell for?
He must have his reason. Whatever they may be. And although General Sherman Tipton did not approve of this sort of fraternization between soldiers, no matter what their `orientation,' he had to admit that Maddox had never failed an assignment. Not one.
He turned his attention to the transformed man. His narrow eyes scanned the impressive specimen, gazing at his wealth of muscular size. His physical beauty was undeniable, even to a man like Tipton whose only appreciation of the male was normally how well it performed athletically or how strong it was and what it could do for him. If he were to be perfectly honest, Sherman felt some jealousy.
After all, he and Lassiter were of the same generation. Lassiter was a few years younger than Sherman, but he looked younger even than Maddox, who was 28. Lassiter looked no more than 19 or 20. Perhaps if he had some whiskers on his face, but he never observed any on the man, nor did he ever shave. His face was always as clean and clear as a boy's. Only his body, encased in those clothes he had to keep replacing, told a different story.
Now Lassiter's secondary penis made an appearance, and Tipton leaned forward. He wondered how this would work, frankly. But nothing happened. They continued to talk.
He leaned over and pressed a finger to the intercom. "Tipton here." On the screen, Lassiter's form was changing in a matter of seconds. Every time Sherman witnessed this, it was hard to accept it. It seemed like a special effect, so unreal and almost too real at the same time.
"Yes sir?" The young man's voice, even over the tiny speaker, was powerful and deep. He hadn't learned control quite yet, it seemed. Tipton's short hairs tightened.
"Make yourself scarce, lieutenant." Lassiter was changing again, now becoming someone painfully beautiful, a man possessed of something beyond mere beauty.
"You heard me."
He lifted his finger and returned his full attention to the scene on his monitors. Now Maddox and Lassiter were coming together again, but Tipton could see no difference. Maddox was on top of the doctor, kissing him. Lassiter seemed to be frozen or something, but soon his hands were again crawling across the major's naked form and they looked like they were about to start up again.
Tipton smiled thinly, thinking about the young man he'd told to get himself lost. It was prudent not to take chances. A back up plan was always a good idea.
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