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|One word that could never be used to describe Blake was "inexperienced." He'd known he was attracted to men since he was 12, and his unusually quick development, perhaps explained by this collection of extra male chromosomes, allowed him to find men older than himself by the time he was 15 who could teach him things that guys his own age, who he'd been diddling with in basements and bedrooms almost as soon as his first erection, would have to learn on their own.
He'd been fucked five ways to sunset, on beds, on tables, on floors, up against the walls, in showers, in locker rooms, in bathrooms, on the beach, in the desert, in the rain, tied up, tied down, lubed, oiled, creamed, hot and cold, high and low, front and back. He knew where things were supposed to go, and how to get them there. He could suck a man to heaven and swallow pump after pump no matter how big the load. He could top and bottom, showing his partner or partners he could be master, then servant. Even before coming to this haven of constant arousal and almost constant sex, for a guy his age he'd seen more action than any ten guys he knew.
Pleasure was not a stranger to Blake.
Michael's attention was more than sex. Much, much more.
Blake immediately realized that sensation of extreme gratification as Michael's hands touched his skin. He could feel the thunderous roar of erotic bliss filling him up, like his whole body was a thick, hard prick pumped full to bursting, leaking precum like a hose, throbbing with sexual power.
The kiss was a lesson in passion and lust, a hot, wet fuck rolling through his mouth. It was like sucking on a pliable, firm dick that wanted to thrust itself down your throat. Then the man's scent wound around them, sucking the air from his lungs and replacing it with the hard, sweaty essence of man.
Being with Michael went beyond the sensual pleasures of sex. Blake was drowning in bliss, overwhelmed by it, overcome with it. He was fucking and being fucked, loving and being loved, but Michael's touch, the true power of it, was something beyond that.
Blake never felt so powerfully male in his life.
Muscle and flesh, pulsing with power, thick and hot and hard. He felt his might magnified, felt his firm, tight ass in all its round, muscular glory. His chest, the two massive hanging slabs of brawn, the soft, musky fur that carpeted it, the round, ruby nipples tingling for touch. He felt energized, larger-than-life, heroic. He was glowing, his power ready to burst from his skin.
He could feel Michael's magical caresses across his skin like electricity. The man passed a sexual potency through him so deep, so wide, so thick and beautiful that he could hardly stand it.
Was he being fucked? Was his ass open wide, filled up, was he cumming buckets, quarts, was the sun on his skin hot and slick and smooth, was he swimming naked through unending tides of sexual ecstasy? Did heaven feel like this? Could he stand another minute, another second, another heartbeat of this pleasure filling him up, pouring over his body, leaking out of him like honey?
And this perfect man, was he real? That smile that seemed to drill through him like lightning and shock his dick to hardness. The blue, so blue eyes that smiled in the same way, eager, wanting, loving. His skin, like silk, smooth and flawless and so soft, painted across his muscles, all those muscles in perfect symmetry, all that raw carnal power, there for him, open to his explorations, his worship, his desire. Blake felt beautiful, strong, tall and huge. Had he been cumming through Michael's attentions? He felt energized and powerful. His muscles burned with fierce energy, he felt strong beyond anything he'd ever felt before, large beyond the hardest pump, buzzing with tightly contained capacity.
"Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Oh, fuck."
He could hear Chuck's voice. "Mmmm, yeah, baby. Oh, oh yeah." It was a feral growl of potent pleasure. An echo of the overwhelming sexual bliss flooding him. Then another voice, or a moan, maybe it was Todd. He could feel hands all over him, he felt hot and slick and swollen, gorged on sex and passion and thick, hard, fat, powerful muscle. It was everywhere. It was all around him.
And then he was growing.
He could feel it. He could feel it everywhere.
It was like his whole body was a dick, swelling thicker and larger, pumping fuller, longer, bigger, fatter. His lungs filled up with the scent of sex and men from everywhere. Someone was releasing their pheromones in thick waves. Maybe they all were. How many men were pleasuring him? How many dicks coating him in hot, transforming cream?
He felt their power, intense and overpowering, and he could feel his own growing stronger inside and out.
"Oh, fuck," he said again. His tone was saturated with sex, a deep rolling thunder swollen with erotic energy. To his own ears, the voice that came from his throat reverberated and invited, made him feel even more anxious, harder and hotter. "Fuck me," he commanded.
They did. They all did. He could feel their arms surrounding him, sliding across his growing contours, muscle against muscle, skin on skin.
His chest ballooned, growing heavy with corded vibrant glory. Thick poles of strength swelling and splitting and multiplying. Bigger and bigger.
He felt his arms expanding. He could feel his might growing there, filling up from the inside, growing with unbound capacity, fat and hard. The bellies of his biceps were swelling outward, inflating with brawn. His arms lengthening to contain his burgeoning strength, his hands growing larger, even his fingers extending.
And his cock. His giant prick was welling with size and thickness and potency. He felt the heavy, glorious burden of erotic pleasure building with pressure toward release. But he wouldn't release it yet. He wanted to hold the pleasure inside, allow it to grow white hot, huge and hard and beyond control. He could feel the urgency of his need growing, pushing outward, longer and fatter and harder.
His ass was filled. Two cocks, three, four. How many could he take? Someone was sucking him, someone else was licking him, someone else was sliding his rough, hard hand along his length. Both lengths.
Two pricks. He had two pricks.
He could feel them both growing. Like he was growing. Stronger and stronger. Unstoppable.
It hadn't been planned. It never happened like this.
When a man was transformed fully, a man was brought here to this room and told almost everything that Blake had been told.
That he was now more than a man.
That he would become larger still, more powerful, and strong almost beyond measure.
Then he would be Transformed, and he would grow. His muscles would expand, growing thicker and thicker, swelling with power. His cock would grow, lengthen, swell fat and ripe with veins until it started to get bigger that the man's leg. A huge, hot, hard erection bulging with potency towering over his head, fountaining a stream of hot cum that would finally turn the man into his ultimate form, huge and beautiful, a perfected version of the man he was.
Everything he ever wanted.
But less than he could be, lacking the most amazing capacities of the original nine members. And neither Carlos nor Michael could account for it.
It didn't seem to matter how the final transformation was... applied. They'd fuck a man silly, he'd grow as they fucked him (Chuck particularly enjoyed this method since he'd always been a butt man and watching a man's ass perfect itself while you fucked him was a pretty interesting experience), they'd cum all over themselves and... that was it.
The guy could suck them and they'd pump a super load of transforming cream into their gut. They'd twist in pain for a moment as the sudden burning swam through their system and then they'd expand, their arms and legs bulging with brawn, their chest inflating, their necks growing corded with brawn and sinew. They'd be overcome with erotic bliss, they'd pump themselves to ungodly hugeness, cover themselves with their own Transform and become the idealized version of their wettest dreams.
And that was it.
They wondered if the lab had something to do with it. Though Todd had transformed Chuck in his own apartment, it wasn't until they got back to the lab that things got crazy. Carlos said there could be nothing unusual about the location. Maybe it was the men themselves. After all, hadn't the last four been drawn to the place. Maybe there was something unique in their genetic structure. That was certainly the case with Michael, they could all agree on that. Maybe they just got absurdly lucky with Jeremy and Jeff. Or maybe the formula itself had reached its limit and wouldn't pass on anymore, or develop different and new capabilities in men.
Because the men who had since been invited all realized the substantial growth and physical perfecting of their appearance, but they were frozen that way. They didn't control their appearance, they didn't grow larger still with muscled might, and they certainly were not taking to the winds, flying aloft like Superman.
But Blake was different, they all saw - and felt - that immediately. It was as if he belonged. When they were with him, it was different from being with the other new arrivals. His appearance after so small a sample of the serum was obvious testament that there was something very different about him.
If he could grow that big on such a tiny taste, what would happen with a full load?
Michael felt it most of all. In the days and weeks that passed, his control of the sensual power of his touch had increased as his awareness of it did. Like the man scent that they all gave off to varying degrees, this was another sense power, linked to his sense of touch. The nerve endings that covered every inch of his skin had been altered in some subtle, unforeseen way. His sensitivity to the touch of others was still heightened, but he could moderate the effect the other way.
Most of the time.
"Blake is different," he told Carlos as they walked away from the usual greeting of new arrivals.
Carlos raised a slim eyebrow, his golden gaze gleaming in the sun. "Different?"
Michael nodded. "He could feel me."
"But you're always turned off. How could he..?"
Michael's rich, smooth voice grew quieter. "And I could feel him."
"You think he has the potential." It was a statement. Carlos knew Michael's intonations by heart.
Michael's perfect features lit into a smile. "I know it."
They were careful to avoid him, all except Chucker the Fucker who always did just as he pleased, even though he agreed with the others that it was probably a good idea not to reveal too many secrets. "As long as it means I still get off."
"Yes, Chuck," laughed his old friend Todd, "you can still nail anything that moves." The hairy man's wide grin signified that he agreed to those terms.
So he was naturally very curious about Blake, after Michael and Carlos told the others, and he engaged the young man in a variety of different guises, always out of sight of any other newcomer so questions about that redhead with the round ass or that bald guy with the curving dick could be avoided. And Blake proved to be a particularly adept and incredibly agreeable lover. Chuck's pantheon of sexual moves and positions had certainly expanded now that he was surrounded by ass-loving, cock-sucking men ready, willing and able to do to him and with him anything he desired. In his previous life, it was missionary all the way.
Now he had pricks in every orifice and was learning how to use his hands and mouth and tongue and pretty much everything else to heighten and prolong his sexual pleasure.
But Blake knew things Chuck never even thought of before. He was giving and passionate during one session, then dominant and rough the next. He could top and bottom with equal skill and seemed to know exactly what you wanted to do before you knew you wanted to do it.
He was a natural fuck machine, all male and no doubt about that, and his new body had only increased his skill and devotion to his craft.
And for Chucker, the mindfuck was almost as much fun as the real one. Sometimes he'd change form while Blake was bent over in front of him, drilling his cock in just a little deeper, allowing himself to expand in the man's ass during the height of passion. He got more and more daring, changing his eye color in the middle of a kiss. Increasing his brawn, allowing his chest to expand and his lats to spread wider and wider with Blake sucking his exposed dick. More than once he thought of really screwing with the guy and letting the twin out for air, shoving both barrels up Blake's sweet and tender asshole.
But he never did.
Meanwhile, Carlos and Michael were experimenting with Blake's DNA, taken from stray skin cells and hair extracted from the teen's captured clothes, trying to predict what might happen.
Because if the lad had swelled up that large with the very small amount of Transform he'd already taken, was there a possibility that a larger dose would hurt or even kill him?
The tests had not proven if any metamorphoses would take place, but the DNA was not so transformed that it was unrecognizable as human.
It was more than human. Better than human.
When Blake and Michael met again, Michael was having the same sense of heightened sexual desire and drive that Blake was feeling. He was drawn to the beautiful young man, not from love or passion, but from pure masculine eroticism. He could feel Blake like a heat across the room, a furnace waiting to be stoked to fiery eruption. He physically ached to touch him, to fuck him senseless, like his body knew that this was the water to quench its need.
So when at last he gave into that need, he let himself go, unmasking all the protections set in place against allowing too much of his pent up masculine power loose. Maybe he should have warned the others what he was going to do. But he didn't know that the young man had the power to strip all his protections from him so easily.
And when they did touch, he was filled up to overflowing with a frenzy of erotic pleasure so intense that the entire room was flooding with it.
And then all of them, Michael and Carlos and Todd and Chuck, were on Blake, all over him, caressing and kissing, sucking and stroking, fondling and thrusting and cumming.
Cumming buckets inside him and on him, all over him, heat and sticky wet sexual power drenching his body.
But all Blake felt was strength and power and muscle, expanding and growing everywhere, filling him up until he could take no more, then another cycle of growth would hit and he'd become bigger still, more beautiful by far, the epitome of male potency and corded muscular brawn.
He absorbed all they had to give, the most powerful of the Team of nine, delivering to Blake their most potent, unshielded, unprotected transforming juices.
Nine feet tall, he was still growing.
Ten feet tall, and 1,400 lbs, of thick, massive muscle.
He was still developing.
Arms like steel cables. Massive boulders on his chest. Tree trunk thighs and diamond hard calves.
Shoulders round and full and striated with power.
Lats spreading wider, thicker, growing stronger, harder. Bigger.
A belly of hard cobblestones, tapering to an impossibly tight waist.
11 feet tall. Over 2,000 lbs.
Skin like silk, smooth and perfect. To touch him was to touch sex. It poured off him like a scent. Like a hand on your hard, hot dick. Like lips on your cock head.
He stood there, breathing deep breathes, his eyes a deep emerald, his face like a god's. His arms hung loose and relaxed at his sides, and the muscles crawled and grew inside his skin. His limbs inflated with unrestrained power. His torso was growing out and up, the two massive hemispheres of his chest inflating with more and more cabled strength. He expanded in front of their eyes, his power manifesting physically and sensually.
"I can feel it," he said softly, the sound of his words shocking the surrounding men's senses like an orgasmic release. A deep, throbbing, sexual sound.
Carlos managed to ask, "Feel what?"
The men stood back and watched as Blake began to display what he meant, allowing his incredible new physique to swell to its ultimate vastness.
Bending his arms, the muscles sprang to life, etched with striations, each fiber of the muscle incredibly defined. The bicep bulged larger and larger, splitting and expanding, threatening to burst through his shining, beautiful skin. He smiled, bringing an aching beauty to his perfect features.
"I just thought of something," whispered Todd.
Blake brought his arms overhead, his triceps unfolding along the underside of each arm, his shoulders bunching and bulging as he chest unfurled.
"What," asked Chuck, not taking his eyes off the display of pure masculine perfection.
A ten-pack of rippled glory stretched and flexed along Blake's super tight stomach.
"He never did the monster dick thing."
Chuck blinked and cast his gaze down the tanned torso toward the young man's huge double pricks were hanging thick and meaty - firm but limp - between his legs. They were things of beauty, a pair of cocks to literally die for, something that, more than anything else on this example of ultimate masculine achievement, spelled out in obvious and lengthy substantiation that a fuck session with this giant would send your body to heaven. But although it was an inviting and erection-causing site, they definitely weren't swelling anywhere near the guy's head.
"Hey," said Chuck loudly as he pointed at Blake's groin, "What's with his dicks?"
Blake paused in his flexing and raised an eyebrow. Looking down, his awesome voice intoned, "They look all right to me." He reached his hands down and grasped the shafts, hauling the huge tools into both hands and pointing the tips at Chuck. They were extremely sensitive. "Feels all right, too."
"But," said Chuck, sounding disappointed as he turned to his fellow Team members, "what about the giant prick thing?"
Todd scratched his head. "Maybe it happened while we were all, um, otherwise engaged and we just didn't notice. Maybe?"
"Giant prick thing," quoted Blake, curiously. When he released his dicks, they did not immediately fall back toward his heavily muscled thighs, however. Instead, they seemed to levitate and slowly lower. Blake started grinning as this unexpected result, but he recognized that his dicks had developed their own controlling muscles that allowed him to use them a great deal more than simply swelling them to enormity and shrinking them to hide within his wealth of soft pubic fur.
They moved like serpents from his groin, as if thick, pink monkey's tails had been attached to him. He wound them around each other. He allowed one to fall limp while the other seemed to be sniffing the air, then sinuously moving like a wave along its length. He could even bend them like arms, swelling the new muscle within huge and bulging like biceps. It was weird and fascinating and felt amazing. "Cool," he concluded.
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