|Stan sat under a spreading oak. The hot summer wind brushed his bronzed skin and his eyes were closed as he enjoyed a day full of doing nothing. He could hear the two boys somewhere, their deep- throated laughter as full and round as the muscles that covered their bodies. He had never had any kids, never wanted any -- and wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do with these two, if anything. He felt an odd responsibility, though. They were both so green. He had a life behind him. Had they ever seen disappointment? Did they have regrets? He couldn't imagine they knew what the words meant. They were constantly up, constantly high and sunny and flying -- sometimes literally. They fell into each others arms as easily as falling off a log. Was that love, he wondered? Lust? Both? He opened his eyes and gazed at his own body. Weird, he thought with a slight grin, that he still had some sense of shame of nudity, even now that he owned what could easily be described as a perfect male body.
Everything was honed to a beautiful perfection. From the bulging biceps that twisted along his arms to the eight-pack of abs rippling on his belly to the long, strong legs stretching before him. All this, and he still insisted on wearing a makeshift loincloth to cover his dick.
He knew he could control its size, make it less noticeable if he wanted to, make it more average for a man his assumed size, which he figured was about 6 foot 2, but there was no one else around to compare against except the other two beautiful male specimens so he wasn't exactly sure how big he was. Something else in him -- pride, maybe, or ego (more likely) -- kept him from doing that. No, he sported a huge hanging monster, a dick that would make any other man he met do a double-take and probably stare. His grin grew brighter thinking of that, imagining whipping his baby out at a stall and taking a whiz next to some big-dicked asshole who thought he was cock of the walk. No matter how big that guy was, how long or thick or impressive, he could be longer, thicker and twice as impressive. Then get bigger than that.
He found the blood rushing into that monster as he viewed the scene.
Yeah, he thought, he'd pour out his bladder in a hot, acid shower and shake off the drops while the guy watched. Then he'd turn to that guy, and he'd be a hairy brute. Huge man. LikeSum a constriction worker of something. Hairy and greasy, with a big mustache and a rough bearded chin and these dark, evil eyes. And he, Stan, would turn to him and tell him to get on his knees.
He'd refuse of course. Of course he would. So Stan would get bigger. He'd swell with brawn, his arms bulging, his shoulders and chest, he'd split the seams of his shirt and keep going, ripping it to shreds. And he'd use that voice thing he had now. He'd use that and tell the trucker, "On your knees." He'd say it quietly, but it would be an order.
And Stan, the formerly mild-mannered Stan, would hold his huge dick in his huge hand and shove it forward, shifting his hips, and make the guy swallow him. Make his suck his big dick, teach him how big a big dick really was.
Then he'd move his hips very slowly, starting to feel his dick in the guy's mouth, inching down his throat. He was huge, Stan was, and thick and hard and the guy would take all of him and like it. Love it, in fact, swallowing and sucking his monster with abandon. Right. And the guy would have a mustache and he'd have this rough growth of beard and this big huge chest, yeah, and blue eyes and this black burr of a haircut and he'd be sucking Stan's dick and...
"Stan! Hey, Stan!"
He opened his eyes and the dream vanished. His dick was at full mast, though, catching the warm breezes on its precum slickened surface. He made himself deflate, not without regret, and shaded his eyes to watch the two young gods running toward him with easy, athletic strides. They were, as usual, naked. Their heavy chests bounced and shifted and their dicks swung like pendulous elephant trunks. They had smiles on their beautiful faces and sheens of sweat on their shining skin. His heart did a little flip at their overwhelming appearance.
They moved toward him under the wide open sky, their long ponytails of shimmering hair sailing behind them. Their bodies looks almost exactly the same, two perfected masculine forms so musclular and mighty that they looked like they'd just come from benchpressing Cleveland.
"Hi, guys!" He rose off the grass easily, still marveling that a body could move so gracefully and effortlessly when it had all the strength in the world at its command. The place where they were might have been heaven, for all he knew. They flew quite high and quite fast. He may have crossed oceans, or he may be only a few miles from his hometown and the destroyed burger joint. Maybe he was on some African savannah. Or in the south of France.
"You're a weird guy, you know that, Stanley?" He loved hearing Bobby speak. That little Texan twang tugged at his short hairs every time. "You sit over here under a fuckin' tree all morningSum I mean, have you looked around? This place is great! The sun's out, the sky is blue, you've got two nice guys in front of you who like to fuck and can do it all day long and all night long and never get tired and yet you're over here all alone having a wet dream about taking a piss at a truck stop."
"How did youSum oh, yeah. I keep forgetting that." He chuckled softly. He forgot about leaving his channels open, as these kids called it. The mindlink was a little... embarrassing at times. But the two beautiful forms in front of him never seemd to judge what he sent out, which half the time was about what he wanted to do to them, or to watch them do. He still hadn't adjusted to that - or to the understanding that all those fantasies could now be realized.
"You'll get used to it. Probably takes more time since you're so old." Joe loved teasing him about that. The three of them looked almost exactly the same age, but the fact that Stan was more than twice as old as either Bobby or Joseph gave the two teens a kick.
"Yeah, probably," he answered, deflating the joke. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to beSum me."
Bobby shrugged. "Hey, no pressure, bro. Just thought you'd rather have your dick in a nice ass instead of being by your lonesome stroking off to a fantasy -- a fantasy, I might add, that you can easily make reality." He was echoing Stan's own thoughts.
"Which is sort of the point," nodded Joe.
"Actually, that's what I've been thinking about."
"You mean, when you're not thinking about turning some cattle trucker into your love slave, right?"
He snickered. "Right. Um, but, soSum what exactly is the point?"
Stan took a few steps out of the shade of the tree. His loincloth snapped in the breeze, lifting up to reveal his lengthy wonder. "Of this. I mean, I know there really was no point in your guys' heads. Turning me into this, uh, whatever I am."
"Nope. Thought it'd be cool, mostly."
"Yeah," agreed Bobby. "And it was!" He started making crash noises and mimicking the destruction they left behind. The two kids whooped with laughter and Stan smiled along.
"But, um, soSum what now?"
"Whuddaya mean, Stan? Now we go have some fun! Fuck each other, find some other guy, fuck him, maybe make him big, or bigger, or something." Joe shrugged and shoved his hair from his eyes. "I dunno. What difference does it make?"
"So, umSum okay, say it's a year from now, right? And we're having sex andSum"
"Fucking, Stan. You can say it. Fucking."
"Right, Bob. So, um, we're fuSum ckingSum" he shook his head. He was still Stan, no matter how hard he tried not to be. "We're doing that and turning other guys into, uh, what we are now and they're probably doing that, too, right? And whatever. But, I mean, so what?"
"Yeah. So what?"
"You've lost me." Joe hung his arm across Bobby's wide shoulders. "Bob, are you following any of this?"
"I just think our friend needs a good blow job. Or two. Or a dozen." He wrinkled his perfect brow. "Jeez, Stan, you've only been Transformed for one day. You haven't even tested the equipment, really. You don't know half of what you can do, now. And then you wear that silly thing," he said, glancing at Stanley's loin cloth, "when the only people around are Joey and me and we're butt nekkid and wagging in the breeze and could give a fuck who sees us." He smiled, then, trying to make his words less accusing. "I mean it, Stan, just give yourself a chance, here. It's not bad at all, you know. I'm not sure there's anything bad in it." Bobby nodded along.
Stan nodded a little, too. They were right, of course. He hadn't really explored anything. He was drawn to each of the guys in front of him stronger than he'd ever felt with another person. He wanted to hold them, to kiss them, to explore them as they showed him what he could do, and what they'd do together. And they invited him all the time, and never forced the issue, and said it was fun and fine and `really cool' and everything. He was aware that his dicks would respond to any wish he put to them, and that his asshole would welcome even the fattest dick and want more. And that every inch of his body could deliver pleasure more intense than anything he'd ever felt before.
But the two guys were, well, they were together, weren't they? And that meant something, didn't it? And didn't sex mean something, too? It had been so long since he had any, it was hard to remember. So he had been fulfilling his hunger himself, and more and more his body wanted more and more. He was told he could control anything, but he was starting to wonder.
And he thought it would sound stupid to say this stuff to the two guys, who already thought he was weird. "I know," he answered, "I know. It's justSum"
"Just what?" Joe, always the more affectionate of the two, stepped toward him and slipped his hand around Stan's hip. His face tilted slightly and his eyes were filled with care and curiosity. Jesus, he was young. No one Stan knew had eyes that should much of anything anymore.
"I keep coming back toSum thatSum well, I've been thinking about this a lot."
"Yes," Joe said, his hand moving onto Stan's new ass, "we know."
"And, okay, do you know who you two guys are?"
Bobby grinned. "The two horniest, handsomest, biggest fuckin' guys in the world?" Damn, that accentSum.
"Well, yeah. ButSum think about it a second. Super strong. Super fast. You can fly. AnySum sort ofSum ideas?" A cool draft flew up his loincloth as Joe caressed his butt flesh expertly.
"UmSum well, Chuck can do that. Hell, any of the guys can do that. You can do that, Stan!"
"No, um, think less real. Think, you know, comic book."
"Oh. Duh. Superman."
"No," disagreed Bobby. "Superman has x-ray vision. And we don't."
"Did he?" Joe could manage to debate his friend and deliver Stan into ecstatic butt bliss at the same time. Quite a talented guy. "I thought that was Spiderman."
"No, Spiderman has the web stuff and Spidey Sense, but he can't see through walls."
"Maybe it was Aquaman, then?"
"No, Aquaman had the giant seahorses and could control, like, fish and junk."
"And breathe water," Joe pointed out, moving his touch deftly into Stan's hole.
"Well, that goes without saying."
"Maybe you're thinking ofSum"
"Guys," interrupted Stan, moving away from Joe's touch. "That's all beside the point. What I'm trying to say isSum"
Joe was reaching for his body again as he said, "I wonder if we can breathe water?"
"Hey, that's an idea! We should goSum"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Okay, just, hold it one sec. Okay, so, you see my point?" Bobby and Joe both turned to look at him, both with similar expressions of confusion. So he came out and said it. "You're frigging superheroes!"
"But which one?" Bobby still looked confused. Kids!
"No, I don't meanSum you're not a particular superhero. You're your own superhero. New ones. Real ones. See?"
"But, superheroes come from other planets and shit. Right?" Joe looked at Bobby, the expert.
"Actually, I think Superman is the exception." He started ticking off names on his fingers. "Spiderman, the Incredible Hulk, all the X-men, the Fantastic FourSum most of them are from right here! I'm not sure about Green Lantern. Oh, wait, Silver Surfer is some sort of alien. But BatmanSum pure human being and when he's George Clooney quite the fuckable superhero, at that. And don't even get me started about Chris O'Donnell!"
"And a lot of them," added Stan, "became super after scientific experiments."
"Yeah! Fuckin' A!" The guys high-fived each other and grinned very broadly.
"So?" Stan was now smiling broadly.
"SoSum we're fuckin' studly superheroes! Yay! C'mon, let's go fuck."
"Yeah, we could do that, I suppose. But, so, um, let's think about that other thing, though?"
Bobby grinned, "While we're fucking?"
"If you want to. I guess." Stan shrugged. He clearly wasn't getting his idea across. But he was never very good at communicating his ideas.
Maybe, he thought, it would work better if he just showed them.
He nodded to himself, thinking that thought, but his brain was suddenly taken in another direction altogether when he found himself being lifted into the air, and there were mouths pressed against his body, and someone had ripped his covering off him and the cool breezes were caressing his dick and balls for a moment before hands were doing the same, coaxing him to an easy erection that grew bigger and bigger and bigger until he was hard as a rock and big as a baseball bat.
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