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|Frazz pushed his tongue down his target's throat. The kid swallowed eagerly, hungrily, deep-throating the black man's dick-firm tongue. He didn't know it, but he was already changing. He could feel it, probably, but Frazz was sifting the barest whisper of his overwhelming power into his dancing partner's beautiful naked body, and it felt like a clean, pure pleasure, a soft sexual tingle all over his body.
Strength, power, size and masculine essence entered his body slowly, quietly, infiltrating his cells, his blood, his muscle and skin. The two men stood at the center of the dance floor under the warm rain, engaged in a private kiss of such deep passionate intensity that no one else existed. Frazz bent his larger body over the beautiful boy, wrapped his body in his muscled arms, breathing against him, feeling the other man's body against his own as he slipped his secret strength through their bond.
The boy moaned, breaking their kiss, resting his head against Frazz's mammoth chest. "What's happening," he asked. He looked up into the dark eyes of the man whose arms made him feel so safe and warm. So good. So strong. "Who are you?"
"Call me Frazz," he answered with his sift thunder. "What do I call you?"
A smile lit the dark man's features. His almond eyes joined in. "Having fun, Brian?"
"You could say that."
Frazz watched Brian's bicep. "Want to have some more?" A tiny vein surfaced and began to swell.
"Lead the way, Frazz."
At The Wet Bar, it wasn't the bathrooms where the action took place. The management knew a good thing when they saw it, so they set up Through The Looking Glass, a set of rooms in the back where those inclined to exhibitionism could perform for those inclined to voyeurism. One entire wall was a two-way mirror, so that the performers could watch themselves from inside the rooms (which was what a lot of them wanted to do anyway) while on the other side of the glass, their audience could see everything that was going on. Another set of mirrors lined the opposite wall, so literally every angle of every move could be seen.
There were two types of rooms, as well. The open rooms allowed anyone inside, so if you saw two (or three, or six, or ten) guys having a great time and you thought you'd like to join them, you could. On the other hand, if what you wanted was something a little less public, you could reserve one of the two rooms for private performances. Chuck and Frazz had each put down their names for one room each, but when they all met up, Chuck and Frazz and Brian and Edward, the conversation lead in another direction.
"Hey Edward," greeted Brian.
"You guys know each other?"
Edward launched an incredulous look up at Chuck's amused features. "Hello? How many high school guys are openly cruising in your town, dude?" He nodded toward the beautiful boy standing next to the biggest black man he'd ever seen. The guy looked almost like he was getting bigger just standing there. "Around these parts, every guy knows every other guy. And usually, we know who they've fucked, who's fucking them now, and who's available." He smiled at Brian. "Thought you were still with Jenkins."
Brian wrinkled his brow. "Shut the fuck up, Ed. I thought you were interested in Brad, but I don't see him around, either."
Edward rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, right, Brad and me. That'll totally happen. In my dreams!"
Frazz squeezed Brian's fineass in his huge hand. "You girls want to take this outside, or you want to show your friends how to fuck?" He looked down at Brian's face, his sculpted high cheeks, his squared jaw, his soft hazel gaze, and planted a long, wet kiss on Brian's full lips. The young man's shoulder bulged under his hand.
Edward was scanning Brian's bod. He licked his lips and said, "you been working out, dude?" Maybe it was just the shadows back here in the waiting room or something, but Brian was definitely looking pumped and primed. He'd always had a gorgeous body to begin with, nearly hairless except for an oval patch on his chest and a goody trail from his navel downward. The fucker was gifted, that was for sure, some lucky genetic freak with everything in his favor, physically. Tightly muscled without seemingly having to work out much at all, he had the sort of physical beauty that was usually only seen in magazines, and then only after some air-brushing to make the parts all look as well-made and beautiful as Brian. So what if he was an egotistic prick? Who would be, looking like that? And this evening he was looking better than normal. Better than ever. His body looked firm, bulging a little more than usual, almost swollen with sexuality.
Chuck deflected the observation. "You going to take your clothes off, or did you want me to do that for you." His fingers were already expertly popping the button fly of Edward's 501s having undone the kid's belt almost as an afterthought. His rough, warm hand dug down Ed's Jockeys and found his hard, hot prick. He passed a shock of the Touch to his newest friend and watched the young man's face melt into ecstasy.
Ed gulped in air and reached his hand under his T-shirt, finding his tiny erect nipple and tickling himself to steel hardness. Chuck moved his hand onto Edward's flat belly and leaned down to plant a kiss on his open mouth. He could feel the soft muscles of the boy's stomach firm under his expert touch, feel them awaken to his power, gather upon themselves and develop ever so slightly.
Chuck was really going to enjoy this.
Frazz was starting to feel anxious, though, his body was hungry. He looked over at Chuck and said, "I'm not sure I can wait."
Chuck smiled back. "Yes," he answered, "you can. Believe me." He moved his hand onto the dark man's hugeness. They shared each other, Chuck and Frazz, passing their innate strength and sensuality back and forth through their skin. "Feel the power inside? Feel your strength? That strength is control. You have control. You control everything. It's part of you, now." He noticed that Brian was paying attention, his face determined. The kid was smart as well as beautiful. "Are you ready?" he asked him.
Brian tilted his head slightly, a lock of his drying hair sliding across his painfully handsome face. "Ready for what?"
Then Chuck kissed him, allowing a slim thread of the Touch through the connection, flooding Brian with pleasure, with intense sensuality, with a hint of the core of his power made real. "For what's next," he whispered with his deep, powerful voice pumped thick with male power, gifting the 18-year-old with more sexual joy in that second than he'd probably ever experienced in his life so far. It was only the softest sigh of what Chuck was capable of, of what was inside him, of what swam through his essence, of the pure, absolute, overwhelming and perfect male sexuality and power he possessed in every cell of his body, in every fiber of every super-condensed muscle, along each nerve-ending of his silken skin.
The door opened and three men stepped out through a fog of steam. A strong scent of sex and cum accompanied them. Their skin was slick and ruddy, their eyes glazed. It must have been quite a session. With a slim, satisfied smile, one of them said, "s'all yours," so Chuck and Frazz came to a silent agreement and all four men entered the stage, prepared to give a show that no one who saw it would ever forget.
The room was small, about 12 feet square. All four walls were mirrored, the glass wet with perspiration that dripped down their reflections. Edward gasped when he was suddenly confronted with the site of them all, at the sheer impossible strength and beauty which these two men possessed, an intensity of masculinity that overwhelmed him when he saw himself between them. Even Brian, whom he would have said could make a straight guy hard, looked almost puny and insignificant.
But his own reflection stared back at him aghast, and he felt himself shriveling in his shorts. He was glad he wasn't naked, yet. And catching site of Brian, he saw that the other guy was also feeling a bit out of his league, which was probably even more shocking for him.
The lights in this room were much brighter than they had been out in the bar, and the pure size and development of Chuck and Frazz was suddenly extremely obvious. They were mammoth, incredible, impossible. Did men who weren't drawn really look like that? Did real men, flesh and blood men, possess such power, so much raw sensual force? He watched them move, looked at their faces, at the bulging masses of muscle lining every perfect inch of their towering forms. Edward was 6-1, but Chuck looked like he was 6-6, and Frazz was even taller than that. Brian, at 5-10 - at least he thought he was 5-10, but he looked now to be matching Edward's height, and Ed still had his shoes on - Brian managed to hold his own in the looks department, at least. Jesus, that guy was gorgeous. And man, did he look good wet. Brian's gaze couldn't help but fall toward the available views of the other men's crotches, and he swallowed hard. He started to doubt his mouth could open big enough to even start on Chuck's monster, and it wasn't even hard.
He looked at Frazz's black beauty and his face registered his shock. Again, outside, the dark man's dimensions were sort of hidden by the lack of lighting, but in here it was plainly evident that the guy was a genetic freak. Cocks that big only existed after he'd Photoshopped them, morphing their dimensions and pasting them on more beautiful bodies. But there was absolutely nothing wrong with Frazz's body, and his prick didn't need even an inch of morphing to make it more erection-causing.
And Edward found that his shriveling had managed to reverse itself again. He also noted that Brian was having no difficulty keeping himself up for the events they were about to experience, no matter how painful they turned out to be. And these men did not in any way, shape or form appear to be bottoms.
He hoped his ass was up to the challenge.
Brian was also sizing up the competition. He was the kind of guy who had absolutely no trouble with his body. He loved it, loved himself for it, spent countless hours posing for himself, getting off on himself. He knew he wasn't the only one. And usually, there was no one more beautiful than him. He knew he was lucky, and he sometimes wished he weren't such a prick about it, but he just couldn't help himself. He'd been born liking how guys looked, and so far, no other guy looked as good as him.
He thought he got a good look at Frazz out on the floor. The guy could dance like a motherfucker and do things with his hips that made Brian wonder if the guy's skeleton was made of rubber. And he'd certainly felt enough of the man to know that the muscle was all there and as hard as a rock. He'd never felt anyone - or anything - as hard under the skin as the tall black man with the almond-shaped eyes and full, sensuous lips. He was almost as wide as he was tall, and whatever vitamins his mama fed him as a kid helped him develop about the biggest, baddest, most amazingly firm and meaty prick he'd ever laid hands on. The thing, even flaccid, was thick and heavy and firm. It felt almost like the rest of him, like a muscle at rest.
As he stood naked next to the guy now, he realized he'd underestimated Frazz's size by a hell of a lot. If he wasn't standing near this lesson in human antomy, he'd have sworn his own body never looked better. His arms looked full and muscular, his chest felt strong and heavy, and their dancing must've been a lot more physical than he remembered because his belly was shredded, every bulge of his abs was staring back at him. Damn, he thought, I look fuckable.
And the other guy with Brian, that Chuck guy who kissed him and literally made his knees weak and sent such a deep, hot thrill through him that he almost started cumming right on the spot, that guy was certainly no slouch either. Frazz has a hairless body made of dark chocolate, but his friend owned a man's man's body, a hirsute glory of male beauty with dark fur in all the right places and his skin was a burnished olive, born kissed by the sun gods. Looking at their faces, he swore they were like 21, maybe a little more or less but not much. There was certainly no wrinkles around the eyes or mouth. These weren't the old fags who tried to pick him and his friends up in the park, these were guys his age, but where the fuck did they keep guys like this? And how the fuck can he get the keys to that place?
Brian met Edward's gaze and saw fear on the guy's face. They weren't really friends, they just knew each other on sight. Everyone knew Brian, he made sure of that. And Brian knew Ed because the guy was always around, always cracking jokes, a pretty funny guy by all accounts. He looked at him and seemed to notice for the first time that he had really pretty eyes. Long lashes surrounded them. His hair looked good, too.
Damn, he thought, how come I never noticed that before. Suddenly, he wanted to see what the guy looked like under those clothes. He always assumed he was some rail-thin white corpuscle, but now that he really looked, the guy might have a pair of serious shoulders under that T-shirt, and damn if his arms didn't have some definition to them, too. He figured there had to be some reason a guy like Chuck wanted a guy like Brian. At first, he thought it was just domination, taking advantage of some small kid, really fucking the shit out of the guy. But now...
"You're still dressed," Chuck said, and he slowly sank to his knees. He bent down and untied Edward's shoes, removing them gently. Then his socks. He tossed them in a corner. His hands moved up the Levi's and tugged them off his hips, pulling them back down his body.
Edward stepped out of them, feeling Chuck's grip returning up his leg, climbing over his calf, the long, strong fingers on the back of his thigh, climbing along his skin, through the soft hairs on his legs. He looked down at the man, at the size of him, at the distinct folds of muscle on his shoulder, the massive overhang of the two rounded globes of his bulging chest, the cords of muscle in his neck. His hair looked like black silk, stylishly messy, straight and fine and full. Chuck's hand nudged under the elastic bands of the legs of his Jockeys, pushing up and under, onto his ass. Their eyes met as Chuck looked up, a sideways smile crawling across his lips as he said, "Nice ass, Edward." He grabbed it in his huge hand, kneading the flesh. Then his middle finger was tracing down between the firmness of his butt cheeks. He was stretching the material, his whole hand under Edward's tight briefs, his other hand now finding his burgeoning prick, rubbing the hardening limb through the Y-fronts.
Chuck was slowly, slowly passing Transform to Edward through his touch. He glanced at Frazz and winked, his familiar half-smile on his lips. Frazz looked at Edward and watched the muscle of his thighs subtly flex. The soft roundness of his leg showed some sudden definition that just as quickly evaporated. Chuck said he could control it utterly, said Frazz could too. Control, he said, was the key.
But in the two days since he'd been utterly transformed to what he was now, a man of seemingly unlimited strength and inexhaustible sexual appetite, a guy of almost unbelievable beauty whose merest touch could create cascades of pleasure in any man he chose to give it to, who pumped out a supply of some scent that could draw a man from across a football field into his strong, bulging arms. A genetic freak of such outlandishly positive proportions that if he were not himself, he would never believe the story.
But he could sense all that pent-up power pulsing through him. He was a conduit of physical strength and sexual force, a tool for the flood of unrestrained male brawn contained in every cell of his being, in the very essence of him, and it manifested in a hunger so strong, a hunger for male flesh, for the feel of skin on skin, the tingle of attraction, the deep, full thrum of sexual satisfaction, that he was almost overwhelmed by it.
And the power, so much power inside him. He could feel his strength, the hardness of his huge muscular size contained in the small package he was wearing now, an appearance that didn't even hint at his actual size and strength and devastating beauty. The first time he caught a glimpse of his improved face in a window, he froze in awe and felt his arousal amplify ten-fold. Seeing Chuck in his natural state had been shock enough, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he liked black men, black skin, men like him with thick lips and fat muscle and high, round asses. And he was the most amazing black man he'd ever seen.
So much power inside him wanting out, wanting to grow and expand and explode. Muscle on muscle on muscle, bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter, stronger and stronger. He wanted to fill the room with himself, let his monster cocks out, let himself be all that he was.
But he knew it wasn't time. Not yet. Chuck had a plan. "Time," he said, "Time is the playground." They were lying in each other's arms, muscle against muscle, Chuck's dick buried up Frazz's ass, Frazz's dick buried inside Chuck, their muscled flexibility twisting and screwing. "I was changed in minutes. I changed you in seconds. I could transform any man in a moment, just by touching him. I could inflate him with my strength, shove everything I have at him." Frazz moaned a deep rumble, seeing in his minds eye a parade of men suddenly growing, exploding with power and muscle, their huge bodies tearing through their clothing, their features suddenly perfecting, their eyes clear, their hair a shimmering cascade, their forms pumped to overflowing with strength and sexual prowess and a hunger to fuck deep and hard and full. And Chuck, that sideways smile on his bearded face, leaking a thick cloud of masculine scent that enveloped every man he passed and instantly transformed them into supermen. Chuck shoved himself deeply into Frazz's ass, sending an eruption of the Touch through the thick inches of his prick, raising Frazz to a new plateau of pleasure. "But I want to watch someone change. Watch him grow. Watch the time pass as he realizes what's happening to him, stand behind him when he looks in the mirror and starts to see himself bloom." Chuck kissed him then, sharing the Touch between them, overwhelming him with sex. "Imagine that, Frazz."
He gasped, gritted his teeth, almost unable to contain all the sexual power Chuck was delivering. "How much time?"
"One day." Chuck kissed him again, shifted his hips, plunged deeper still and swelled inside his playmate. "I don't think I could stand it for much longer than that. I get so hot just watching you, dude. Fuck, you're beautiful." His hands moved along Frazz's bulging arms, squeezed his bicep. "And so huge. I want to make someone huge, but I want to control them. I want control."
Frazz felt a hand on his bare ass that pulled him from his reverie, and turned to find Brian's incredible face close to his. "What are we waiting for?"
Frazz smiled. "Not a god damn thing."
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