Facility, The

By AbsMan420


Their compound was originally detected in early 2002 by satellite surveillance seeking to identify terrorist activity on American soil. Further investigation revealed it to be more of a commune than compound, where – by inaccurate initial assessments – some twenty-to-thirty men resided.

Original reports contain phrases like “massive bodybuilders”, “nearly constant homosexual activity (solo and group)”, “possible recruitment of local indigenous persons”, and “suspected steroid distribution ring.” (In point of fact, absolutely no steroids or steroid paraphernalia were discovered at the compound at all. For a raid based on suspicion of drugs, agents were embarrassed only to find a dime-bag of pot in one of the guy’s rooms.)

Detectives managed to infiltrate an Undercover when a pizza delivery boy was intercepted on his way to the compound. This was the first in a series of blunders that resulted in the need for this Facility, here in what this doctor surmises as the Nevada “Bad Lands.” The Undercover Agent – one Mr. Bob Davis – was an athletic , eager young man with a new wife, a new house, and a new career budding before him. He was chosen only for his youth – his baby face got him carded at bars even when he flashed his badge.

With barely enough time to wire him for sound, they sent him into the compound, his mission merely recognizance. The audio is transcribed below:

(Knocking sound.) “Pizza Guy!” (This is Agent Davis’ voice.)

(Muffled, from inside, a deep-pitched, masculine voice) “Hold on.” (The door opens.) “Hey…”

Agent Davis (under his breath): “Holy shit…”

Perp#1 (later identified as “Jimmy”. Chuckles slightly): “Oh, yeah. And I’m not even the biggest guy here. C’mon in. I’ll get you your money.”

Later, under sworn testimony, the Field Leader claimed he tried to signal Davis to remain outside, but Davis himself contradicts that assertion, even though Davis is now barely able to manage coherent conversation for only minutes at a time. Davis is adamant that no audio signal came from his superiors when he went inside. More, he was glad it hadn’t. As all of them eventually said before overtaken by the Lust, they loved what they had become – they wouldn’t change it for the world.

Regardless, Agent Davis followed Jimmy into the compound.

Agent Davis (footsteps echoing in the background): “There are bigger guys than you here?”

Jimmy: “Yeah, but I’m not worried about it. I’ll get there eventually. Just enjoying the ride, so far. Of course, I can’t seem to break twelve inches with my dick. It’s fuckin’ driving me crazy!

Agent Davis: “What did you say…?”

Jimmy: “Look, it’s getting hard right now. Isn’t it hot how it fights the spandex like that?” (He begins breathing heavily.) “Oh… Oh, God… here it comes.”

(The sounds of a scuffle, pizza boxes falling to the floor.)

Agent Davis: “What the fuck are you doing?!? Stop it! Stop…”

Jimmy (panting): “No… can’t… stop. Want a… bigger… fuckin’… cock!”

(A scream from Agent Davis. Grunts, groans, the sounds of struggle. Then, there is a new voice, the dark boom of one of the Big Ones.)

Big One: “Jimmy, what the hell are you doing?”

Jimmy (grunting): “Fuck… bigger dick… gotta have…bigger fuckin’ dick.”

Big One: “I mean, you got the pizzas all over the fuckin’ floor.” (He snorts.) “C’mon…”

Agent Davis (intense emotion, clearly SOMETHING is happening to him): “Yeah! Oh, fuck YEAH! Don’t stop. Oh fuck, DON’T STOP!”

(The sounds of tearing clothing over a mixture of moans from Agent Davis and Jimmy.)

Big One (chuckling): “No, there’s no stopping now.” (More ripping. Then, abruptly) “Wait a minute, what’s that? Is that a wire?”

(A choking sound from Agent Davis, then Jimmy’s voice.): “Are you a fuckin’ cop?”

Agent Davis (choking): “No, don’t stop. Please…”

Jimmy (more forcefully): “Are you a fuckin’ cop?”

Agent Davis (near tears): “I’m a federal agent… undercover… but it doesn’t matter… I don’t care… please… keep fucking me!”

(Jimmy’s response is unintelligible over the sounds of the wire being handled, but clearly the increase in Agent Davis’ moaning proves that the rape continued unabated, probably increasing in force as his transformation began in earnest.)

Big One (so close to the mic, one assumes he is examining it closely as he speaks): “So… Sarge was right. They ARE on to us. Hmm… no matter.”

This is where the recording abruptly ends – the Big Once probably destroyed the microphone, crushing it easily between his thick fingers. About a half hour after that moment, the Team Leader received permission to launch an assault/ rescue mission on the compound (the second blunder that helped bring this Facility into existence).

The dozen member, highly trained strike force, armed with little other than tear gas and electric tazers, was overcome themselves and assimilated within moments of entry, joining the muscular ranks of the compound willfully and completely.

The Team Leader, still out in the field, realizing that he was only adding to the ranks of the opposition, called for and received permission to use a controversial new knock-out gas they’d been testing. Though, even with its powerful reputation, it took two applications before the Big Ones were overcome and there was no detectable motion from inside.

Sixty-seven men were removed in total, including the dozen member strike force and Agent Davis, all now transformed into overly-endowed bodybuilders and fighting for the other side.

After some debate with the Feds about what to do with them, they were ultimately shipped to this Facility, somewhere in the Nevada Bad Lands (I suspect. Even MY security clearance isn’t high enough to learn of our location. Like all the employees of this Facility, I was brought in blind. Yet, on the rare occasions that I’ve gone outside, I suspect the topography of Nevada – assuming we’re even on American soil.)

The Facility itself is such a marvel of engineering that it’s a shame no one can know of it. The above-ground buildings are housing for staff and maintenance – each of us has a small condo that reminds me more of a long-stay hotel (small kitchenettes and full maid service) than an apartment. There is an employee cafeteria for meals, but like most, I keep an assortment of snacks and small meals in my apartment.

We have our own workout room, an outdoor pool, a full golf course, all the amenities, but the true marvel of the place is the underground sections, where we keep the bodybuilders.

In the dorm, they each have their own room, though they rarely sleep alone. As a matter of fact, one of the first things we had to redesign were the pedestal supports for the beds, not just for the added weight of the men, but for their enthusiastic sexual energy – the beds kept collapsing under them while they engaged in sex. So frequent at first, it became an in-joke among them – if the bed didn’t collapse, they laughed, the sex must not’ve been good enough. In some ways, it surprises me that this joke has lived as long as it has – they rarely display such strength in long-term memory. (I’ve only heard this joke twice in the last six months, however. The last time, three weeks ago, when the first man said it, his two bedfellows thought a moment before they laughed, clearly trying to remember WHY that joke was funny.)

The bodybuilders prefer community bathrooms, (“For the stall sex,” they joke.) but in truth, they respond better psychologically to large, open areas. The locker room and its shower facility, the cafeteria, the gym, all of them vast, spacious areas.

The gym, where they spend most of their time, sixteen-hundred square feet of space, would make the professionals in Southern California green with envy: the most modern equipment, the heaviest dumbbells, the sturdiest benches, mirrors from floor to ceiling, private posing rooms, wrestling rooms, basketball courts, an Olympic pool, an enclosed track encircling a small field where they sometimes play football (when they feel like fucking in football gear).

The gym seems to be the only place they can concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time – and even then, their workouts are interrupted regularly for sexual relief. Though they watch TV in the big lounge with the sectionals, I’ve never observed them making it through a program before some kind of sexual activity has begun – ESPECIALLY when a World’s Strongest Man marathon is on ESPN2. For some reason, they find those especially funny.

In the four years that I’ve been the Observational Psychologist at the Facility, I’ve witnessed unbelievable amounts of sex between the subjects. Though there are loose pairings between some of them – I hesitate to use the word “relationship” as these men are now incapable of understanding that – they are all too independent, obsessed with themselves and unable to think beyond their immediate needs for those sorts of things to develop.

What I will call “pairings” literally last only as long as the men stay in each other’s presence. They will stick to each other like glue for days at a time, doing everything – eating, sleeping, lifting, showering, shaving, and shitting – together, acting every bit the puppy-dog-teenagers-in-love. But then, the moment they’re separated, either through design or circumstance, they immediately default back into standard mode, ready, willing (needing), and eager to engage sexually with whomever happens to be handy.

When next they meet, they may or may not recognize the other. (Long-term observation teaches that, because of their self-obsession, they are unlikely to remember much of anything past “the moment” – often, they know another man is one of them, but they have trouble remembering one another’s names, sometimes even their own, leading to a pervasive use of “buddy,” “dude,” “big guy,” and “stud” in reference to each other.) Even if they do recognize their former partner, they never display negative emotions toward the other. Often, they engage in sex as if completely unmindful that a history exists between them, sometimes obviously confused by the familiarity of the situation.

It’s worth noting that they always seem remarkably cheerful, perhaps because they seem incapable of comprehending their circumstance. Their needs are met – they have little interest in anything other than lifting, eating, and having sex – they have no desire to communicate with their families or friends from their lives before their transformations (most remember little of that, anyway), and they have no bills or responsibilities. Of COURSE they’re happy (a little joke between us Doctors).

Still, even the most angry, hardened man, once transformed, becomes another happy little dim-bulb of a bodybuilder. When we first began the operation of this Facility, before we isolated their ejaculate as the transforming agent, we were able to observe several transformations as ill-prepared guards fell victim to their charges.

I’ve been able to interview one Officer Smith on occasion – he has a uniquely high resistance to the Lust the transformees experience – nearly an hour on a good day. The following transcript is our most recent exchange, three days ago.

DR. WARREN: Do you remember how it happened?

OFC SMITH: A little. I remember we were unloading the transport and one of the big ones regained consciousness. Someone had misdiagnosed the amount of tranquilizer needed for a three-hundred pound man, I guess. And the next thing we know, he’s broken the arm restraints on his gurney and he’s up.

DR. WARREN: What did you do?

OFC SMITH: I don’t know. I just reacted. Somehow, I ended up on top of him, trying to press him down onto the gurney so they could get the restraints back on. I remember being able to feel his erection, but it didn’t register on me that it could be a guy’s cock. It was so big…

DR. WARREN: Are you all right?

OFC SMITH: Yeah… it’s hard to talk about it without getting turned on…Fuck, EVERYTHING turns me on, now. Even that… sometimes, it’s so hard to resist…

DR. WARREN: So, you weren’t gay before this happened?

OFC SMITH: Fuck, no! Fuckin’ disgusting! I was married, man! I had a fuckin’ wife!

DR. WARREN: Okay, don’t get excited. Just get back to the story.

OFC SMITH: Story…? What are you fuckin’ talkin’ about?

DR. WARREN: You were telling me the story of how you got transformed.

OFC SMITH: Oh, right! Right! (Laughing.) I’m such a dip-shit sometimes. It’s a good thing I got a great body, huh? Cause I got no fuckin’ brains anymore!


OFC SMITH: Just these fuckin’ huge-ass muscles – and look at my fuckin’ cock, doc. It’s fuckin’ gigantic!

DR. WARREN: You were telling me about the first time you felt one that size, when you were a guard here and you were transporting the guys in. Remember?

OFC SMITH: Oh, yeah. Fuck yeah. It’s hard to stay on task sometimes.

DR. WARREN: I understand.

OFC SMITH: No, you don’t. You don’t got a body like this. You don’t know what a cock like this feels like…

DR. WARREN: Okay, relax. You don’t want me to have to get a dart, do you?

OFC SMITH: No way, man. I hate those fuckin’ things! Don’t worry. I won’t touch you. I’m in control.

DR. WARREN: Tell me about your transformation.

OFC SMITH: Yeah, so um… yeah. So… I’m pressing down on this guy and I feel this big thing growing between us – and I can’t even believe it’s a dick, more like he’s smuggling a cheese log into the complex. Except he’s rubbing it on me. He’s got this… look in his eye… this fuckin’ hot… this Lust… and then he fuckin’ cums, man. He fuckin’ shoots. Just as my boys get the tranquilizer dart into him, he shoots his load all over the fuckin’ place. It fuckin’ soaks my uniform and gets all over my face, in my eyes and nose – my MOUTH – it was fuckin’ disgusting.

DR. WARREN: What did you do?

OFC SMITH: Nothin’ I could do! I stayed on top of him until I felt the dart take effect. What else? We HAD to subdue him. I didn’t even get up offa him until we were sure he was out. Then I got up and someone had a towel and the next thing I knew I was in the changing room the guards used, pulling my shirt off and washing my face in the sink. The whole time, the… taste of it in my mouth and nose…

DR. WARREN: So nobody recognized it as a potential situation?

OFC SMITH: Who fuckin’ knew? Our job was to unload the… guests… off the transport. Nobody told us nothin’ about fag muscle-freaks that transform guys like vampires with their cum. (snorts) What the fuck...

DR. WARREN: When did you first realize that something had happened to you?

OFC SMITH: Right then! I splashed water on my face, caught my reflection in the mirror, and I thought, “Damn, I’m lookin’ pretty good right now. Workouts are paying off.” (Laughs.) Next thing I know, I’m flexin’ in the mirror a little bit, thinkin’ it must be the lighting or something – and I get a fuckin’ hard-on.

DR. WARREN: And that didn’t alert you that something might be amiss? What did you think when that happened?

OFC SMITH: I wasn’t thinkin’ nothin’! All I knew was I was horny as hell, I fuckin’ looked good in the mirror, and the guys were all out there workin’ so it’s not like anybody would know.

DR. WARREN: Know what? What did you do?

OFC SMITH: (Laughs.) I jerked off! I got all up in being a man and being powerful and sexual, so I just grabbed my cock and started strokin’. (Sighs.) It was amazing. Here I am flexing in the locker room mirror, getting off on my body, just… LOVIN’ my cock, and then… um…

DR. WARREN: Then what?

OFC SMITH: Then I fuckin’ came – and it changed my whole life.


OFC SMITH: I’d never had an orgasm like that – it fuckin’ blew me out of the water. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had bigger, longer, multiple orgasms since – the next always better than the last – but nothin’ beat that first one. You see, now I KNOW how intense it’ll be, I’m prepared. But at that time I’d never experienced anything like it before – I had no idea it was coming. It was the most amazing moment of my life.

DR. WARREN: Pretty bold words considering you can barely remember anything of your life BEFORE your transformation.

OFC SMITH: No matter how good my life may have been before I joined my brothers, nothin’… NOTHIN’… could be as incredible as this. I love bein’ what I am, doc. I love it…. You’d love it, too.

DR. WARREN: I WILL get a dart.

OFC SMITH: I told you there was no need – I won’t do nothin’ to ya. I told you that. You don’t think I’m worth my word?

DR. WARREN: Don’t get excited, is all I’m saying. Intense emotion triggers the Lust.

OFC SMITH: I’m in control, doc. I told you.

DR. WARREN: Okay then, let’s get back to task. We were talking – clinically – about your first orgasm.

OFC SMITH: Yeah, I was tellin’ you how fuckin’ AMAZING it was… clinically. It was so intense, I nearly blacked out – I remember falling back into the lockers, these big ropes of cum streaming like someone had let loose of the garden hose. It went on and on. I was helpless and powerful at the same time.

DR. WARREN: And when it was over?

OFC SMITH: (Snorts.) I was ready to go again. Incredible as it was, it had barely taken the edge off. I was still horny and I was ready to fuck.

DR. WARREN: And you still didn’t suspect anything was wrong?

OFC SMITH: Not even when I looked back in the mirror and saw that I was bigger. Just the opposite, doc. I liked it. It took everything I had to tear myself away from my reflection and get back to work, that’s how concerned I was. I squeezed into a new uniform, admiring the way my larger muscles were stretching the fabric at the seams – I even liked the way my cock was pushing out the crotch of my cammies – and got back out there.

DR. WARREN: Did anyone on your shift notice that you were different?

OFC SMITH: C’mon, doc, it wasn’t like I was small potatoes to begin with. I’d kept myself in good shape. And by the time I got back out there, they’d finished unloading the transport anyway. They were like, “What took you so long?” “Nice to have you back” and shit like that. I admit I was a little disappointed that they didn’t say anything. I mean, I could see my improvement. I could feel my half-hard cock growing there in my pants. Why couldn’t they?

DR. WARREN: And then what happened? How long did you go until you were exposed?

OFC SMITH (chuckling): Minutes, at most. There’s no fightin’ it – I mean, you don’t even wanna. It MAKES you wanna show off. I was in that head space when our… guests started to regain consciousness. So, like all the other guys, I’m standing there at parade rest with my hands crossed in front of me, tickling my dick with a finger or two, popping the halves of my chest as I watch these massive bodybuilders stand, shake off the effects of the knock-out darts, and orient themselves to their surroundings.

DR. WARREN: What did you think of them? What were the reactions?

OFC SMITH: That these guys were fuckin’ HUGE. There were little gasps and “holy shits” from the guards, under their breath, but we knew that as long as we had our dart guns, we’d be okay against them. So, our captain is on a bullhorn tellin’ them they’re permanent guests of the U.S. government now, restricted to this facility, but their every need will be met. They don’t even seem to fuckin’ care – they certainly aren’t listenin’. We were in the gym – which has the largest open space to speak to them as a group – but they’re all up in the mirrors and flexing, some are grabbing weights. Nobody’s listening to the captain. Then it starts happening.


OFC SMITH: They start having sex. They’re gettin’ off on their muscles and their flexing. These unbelievable dicks they got start to get hard and the next thing we know, they’re fuckin’ and suckin’ each other and this huge orgy is suddenly happening right in front of us.

DR. WARREN: How did the other guards react to that?

OFC SMITH: They were fuckin’ sick, man. If we hadn’t been under orders not to interfere with their… “social order,” I bet the darts would’ve flew. But our job was to guard exits, not prisoners – our only responsibility was to keep them from leaving – so, if they wanted to fuck, nothin’ we could do but look away.

DR. WARREN: But you didn’t look away…

OFC SMITH: No. I didn’t. I’d never seen nothin’ like it before – men that size. So huge, so… masculine. I was fuckin’ hard as a rock watchin’ them. I didn’t understand it – I wasn’t a fag, but I was gettin’ so fuckin’ turned on. I couldn’t believe it. It was so hot…

DR. WARREN: What did you do?

OFC SMITH: I broke ranks. I just… I broke ranks and dove on the first fuckin’ cock I could find. I couldn’t fuckin’ resist it. THAT’S when I knew something was wrong – that’s when I knew something had happened to me when I’d got that guy’s cum in my mouth. (sighs) And right then I knew I wanted more. Right then, I woulda done anything for it, like a common fuckin’ drug addict.

DR. WARREN: It’s not your fault. Our studies show it’s instantly addicting.

OFC SMITH: And the more the guy gets, the bigger he gets, and the bigger he gets, the more he wants – I know the cycle. Believe me, I know the cycle. At least the – what do you call it, the “Lust”? – makes you forget you’re straight for a while.

DR. WARREN: But you said you loved what you were. You said you wouldn’t go back to your old life, even if you could remember what it was.

OFC SMITH: I wouldn’t, doc. Look at me. I’m fuckin’ huge. Fuckin’ hot. Look at my cock, doc. Who wouldn’t want a cock like that? It’s fuckin’ AWESOME!

DR. WARREN: Are you okay?

OFC SMITH: I don’t got much more time, doc. My cock is startin’ to play games with me again.

DR. WARREN: Can you finish?

OFC SMITH: Ain’t much more to tell. I’m on this guy’s dick. I can barely get the head of it in my mouth, holding it in both hands. I look up at the guy – I don’t even remember who it was, some blonde I think – it don’t matter. All that mattered was his getting his cum. He looks down at me over his huge pecs and smiles, flexes his arms and says, “Fuck yeah, new guy. Suck that muscle cock – get one for yourself.” Just then, all my buddies run over, pulling out their dart guns, threatening the guy to back away. He raises his arms casually and says, “He’s the one suckin’ me – I’m not doin’ nothin’.”

DR. WARREN: And what were you thinking?

OFC SMITH: I wanted his fuckin’ cock – that’s all I was thinkin’. I wanted him to fuckin’ cum!

DR. WARREN: And did he?

OFC SMITH: Just as the guys were pullin’ me off him, he did. He shot this load in my mouth, this sweet, salty nectar, and I couldn’t swallow it fast enough. I gulped it – chugged it. It dribbled down my chin. And as the guys pulled me away, he shot a couple of ropes across my face, too. I was… confused. I knew the guys were pullin’ me away for my own good, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to dive into that pile of muscular flesh in front of me and fuck my whole world away. I struggled against them, but that only turned me on more. Finally, I just shot right there – another one of those mind-bending orgasms – right as the other guards wrestled me to the ground.

DR. WARREN: And that orgasm triggered your transformation?

OFC SMITH: Yeah. (smiles) It was fuckin’ AWESOME! One orgasm better than the last – longer, stronger, more powerful. I could FEEL myself growing, getting thicker at the bottom of that pile. I could feel my muscles getting stronger. And the stronger I got, the easier it became to struggle against them. And I wanted to dominate. I wanted to fuck. And that desire gave me the power. I fuckin’ lifted and threw those mother-fuckers off me like they were nothing but bags of sand. And I stood, and flexed, and the seams of my uniform split and tore. I roared in my triumph! Nothin’ was gonna stop me from fuckin’ them now.

DR. WARREN: Something stopped you. In the four years this Facility has been operational, we’ve only seen three guards… join your Brotherhood.

OFC SMITH: Yeah, they darted me. Has it really been four years? That doesn’t seem right…

DR. WARREN: No surprise. The way the transformation affects your long-term memory also removes your awareness of the passage of time. You really have become creatures of instinct – to eat, to grow stronger, to pro-create… as it were. You’ve devolved.

OFC SMITH: (Laughs.) Whatever. I still like it. Look at this bod – I’m fuckin’ HUGE! Look at this cock, doc. Isn’t that fuckin’ AMAZING!?! You’d like one this size, doc. See how it fuckin’ feels…

DR. WARREN: I think we’re pretty much done here. Let me call the guards and get you out of here.

OFC SMITH: Just a couple strokes, doc. I’ll shoot WAY before they get in here. Join us, doc. Stop spyin’ on us from the cat-walks all day and come down and join us. Look at me, doc. Look how big you could fuckin’ be…

DR. WARREN: You’re forcing me to dart you.

OFC SMITH: Will you fire your gun before I fire mine? Let’s find out!

DR. WARREN: I’m sorry to have to do this…


DR. WARREN: Guard!

(End of recording.)

They’re slowly gaining resistance to the tranquilizer darts, even the latest strain. Some of the Big Ones – and more and more of them are becoming Big Ones as they feed off each other and train – require more than one dose to completely knock them out. I suspect it won’t be long before our devolved subjects have evolved beyond it.

Unfortunately, since we’ve discovered no military application for the transforming agent – worse, the current administration’s stance on homosexuality – our funding barely covers our operational expenses, certainly no money for research or practical application. It’s easy to get the feeling that the government would just as soon we disappear completely. And here, in the middle of wherever we are, we probably could.

I’ve been on the cat-walks most of the morning, observing them below me in the gym as I reflect on my interview with Officer Smith. His vampire analogy was apt, but not entirely accurate. Vampires aren’t self-sustaining – they require fresh victims constantly. They aren’t able to subsist off other vampires. Whereas the men in the Brotherhood here are able to live and grow off each other’s ejaculate – unlike vampires, they’re not driven to procreate.

Which doesn’t stop them from trying. The vainly try to seduce the guards or the cafeteria servers or the doctors and behavioral psychologists who study them. But that seems to be more for their own entertainment than an actual NEED to spread their… “disease.” (again, not the exact right word.)

For the last several hours, I’ve been observing two of the Big Ones on the squat rack below me. I’m able to identify them by name, but I doubt they know themselves. One called himself “Todd” when I first interviewed him almost four years ago, and even then, he’d been so far along in the transformation, he could barely remember it himself. I’m certain he wouldn’t recognize it now. He wears a pair of red posers, and he’s pulled the seat up into the crack of his ass so he can squat deep without tearing the material. The pouch barely holds his half-hard cock. As he racks the weight from his latest set, and shakes his quads, his full erection protrudes from the top of the suit, nearly reaching the top of his abs. He smiles as he flexes for himself in the mirror. “Yeah,” I can hear him murmur. “Fuck yeah. Fuckin’ huge.”

The other one is the former Agent Davis, though he too would have great difficulty thinking of himself by that name, if he remembers at all his former life as a newlywed, rookie agent on his first undercover assignment as a pizza delivery boy. Right now it seems like he’s only thinking about his next set. Dressed only in a pair of spandex square-cut shorts so small the bottom of his massive ass hangs out, and the sleeveless t-shirt that’s been cropped short so anything below his nipples is completely exposed, he sets his freakishly muscular form below the bar and heaves the weight onto his shoulders.

The bar actually bends under the burden of the weight they’re using. They’ve been squatting for the last several hours – Security records show them entering the gym at 4am, so it’s possible they’ve been at it for as long as six and a half. The lifting – and flexing that follows it – turns them on, but the real game seems to be who can resist giving in to their cock the longest. And this time, Todd loses. As Davis racks the weight, Todd – who’s been spotting him, standing directly behind Davis with his forearms guiding Davis’ rib cage – tears off Davis’ spandex shorts and shoves his hard cock into the pumped, meaty ass before him. Davis laughs, saying, “Point for me!” and, leaning one hand on the racked bar, jerks himself off while Todd fucks him. They grunt in guttural unison.

On the cat-walk above them, as these two freakish muscle-beasts pound the hell out of each other, I find I have an erection myself. Of COURSE I’m nervous about it – of course I’m concerned. Ever since Officer Smith’s… interview, I’ve been… it’s been getting harder to…

The sound of their masculine pleasure proves almost too much to bear – I can hardly keep from touching myself as it is. It takes quite a bit of effort to force myself away, to the safety (and privacy) of my office... where the temptation isn’t quite so…

I’ve managed to successfully avoid masturbation for nearly a week now, ever since Officer Smith shot his load at the end of our interview, before I could get the dart into him, before Security could subdue him. Ever since his ejaculate soaked my shirt and spattered on my face, ever since a tiny drop of it melted on my tongue, I’ve been avoiding masturbation.

I fear I’m infected – if “infected” is the right word – if even such a small amount as I ingested could trigger the transformation. A drop, for God’s sake!

Yet here I sit in my office, typing these words with a rock-hard erection after watching two of those muscle freaks brainlessly fuck while squatting. Is that what I’m going to become? Is that now my unavoidable fate? After all the years of education and experience and service to the government, will I simply end up a grunting beast unable to think beyond the pleasures of the body?

And therein lies my dilemma. I won’t know until I orgasm. And it’s been getting harder and harder to resist. Even if I weren’t infected, I’m still a man – I still have needs. No one can repress sexual function forever, even the well-educated. It’s becoming a distraction in my daily, professional life. It’s all I can think about.

So the question becomes, when do I take the chance? When am I brave enough to orgasm and put my fears to rest?

Resolved, I open a new window on my laptop, seeking my Intranet connection to the security cameras. I click on the “GYM” set and aim the focus at Davis and Todd, still working out at the squat rack, their backs to the camera. While Todd squats, Davis, dressed only in the sleeveless shirt since his shorts had been destroyed, naked from the waist down, plays with his substantial erection while watching his buddy do his set.

Leaning back in my chair, mesmerized by Davis’ massive ass and thick hamstrings, I open my pants and begin to play with myself. Is it bigger, or is it that it’s so full of blood – rock-hard like never before – that it feels so thick in my grip? I can only imagine what it would feel like to have one the size of Davis’ or Todd’s. With dicks like that, no wonder they’re obsessed with them.

Is that what I have to look forward to?

My orgasm is seconds away – so is Davis’, pounding away on his meat while Todd squats. He bends his knees in his wide stance, flexing his glutes and hamstrings and blows a load while Todd is deep in the squat, ass on ankles – his cum splatters across Todd’s wide back. Davis roars, throwing his head back and his arms out to his sides.

I cum, too. I have an orgasm that is unlike any I’ve ever had in my entire life. There has never been a time when the release was this powerful, when the climax lasted this long. It goes on and on, waves of bliss sweeping over me. Davis’ roar has nothing on mine.

And when it’s over, as I sit there catching my breath, soaked in my own juice, I realize…

…I realize I’m still horny. That orgasm – great as it was – has barely taken the edge off. I’m ready to go again. I’ve completely gotten my wind back and I’m ready to go again.

I’m infected.

Shit, they got me. Oh, shit. They got me. I’m gonna end up one of them.

I look at the window still open on my laptop and I see Davis kneeling before Todd, who’s racked the weight as is leaning against the bar as Davis blows him. On Todd’s face is a look of idiotic ecstasy.

That’s what I’m gonna be. That’s how I’m gonna end up.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

I’m rock-hard just thinking about it.

SECURITY REPORT POSTED 3/6 1130 hours by Ofc Mike Matson

At 1100 hours, Dr. Warren appeared at the GYM Access Security Point requesting entry. Disheveled and distracted, Dr. Warren refused a dart gun or security accompaniment, saying, “No need.”

At 1103 hours, over objections from security personnel, Dr. Warren passed his access card through the security lock and entered the gym.

Security cameras show Dr. Warren approach two of the Big Ones, who were engaged in sexual acts at the squat rack. Dr. Warren doesn’t speak, but instead kneels next to the dark-haired one and joins him in the oral stimulation of the other. Neither of the Big Ones seem to mind – as a matter of fact, they seem to encourage him.

At 1104 hours, a security detail enters the gym, darting the two Big Ones. But because of their building immunity, the one Big One is unfazed, climaxing into Dr. Warren’s waiting mouth. The order is given to double-dart the Big Ones and to dart Dr. Warren, too.

Dr. Warren’s transformation begins as he lies unconscious on the matted floor.


DR. HEIDELMENN: So, in a sense, you committed suicide. You gave up before you even sought help.

WARREN: Help? You and I both know there IS no help – there’s just prolonging the struggle. No, doctor. I debated it, and decided I didn’t want to be an experiment to you.

DR. HEIDELMENN: An experiment that may have yielded valuable information. Perhaps even leading to a cure.

WARREN: A cure? (Laughs.) Why would anyone want to be cured of this? I love what I am now! Look at this bicep, Heidelmenn! LOOK at it! It’s fuckin’ awesome – and it’s just gonna get bigger!

DR. HEIDELMENN: If you can’t control yourself, Dr. Warren, I will dart you without hesitation. I am far less trusting than you used to be. Look where it got you.

WARREN: Why you so fuckin’ hostile to me, doc? Jealous?

DR. HEIDELMENN: (Chuckling.) Jealous? To me, you’re analogous to a drug addict who’s beyond rehabilitation. Perhaps your own comparisons to vampires are merited – after all, vampires lose their humanity, too. No, “Doctor” Warren, you are nothing more to me now than one of THEM – another experiment. Another lab animal.

WARREN: A lab animal with a fuckin’ kick-ass body. A lab animal with a cock beyond belief.

DR. HEIDELMENN: That’s your addiction talking. That’s not the language of the man who was my co-worker for nearly five years.

WARREN: THAT man doesn’t exist anymore. I can barely remember him.

DR. HEIDELMENN: Ah, yes – from reading your observation log, that’s one of your greatest fears. It doesn’t bother you that the price of the body you profess to love so much has been your memory? Your individual personality? In your logs, you write over and over again about that. It came up in nearly every interview. And now you act as if you don’t care…

WARREN: It don’t keep me up nights, no. Maybe what I was really afraid of was surrendering to the pleasure of being a man. Maybe I was just a sexually repressed pussy-boy who hid behind my intellectualism. Sound familiar, doc?

DR. HEIDELMENN: Your clumsy attempts to manipulate me only prove how far gone you really are. You ARE a vampire – you’re nothing more than the disease wearing the trappings of Doctor Warren. It seems there’s nothing more to learn from you. I’ll call for the guard.

WARREN: It’ll happen to you, too, Heidelmenn. Eventually you’ll slip up – everyone does. And we’ll get ‘em all. Meantime, you’ll keep feedin’ us and studyin’ us while we get stronger and stronger and more resistant to your useless drugs. How far away do you think our victory really is?

DR. HEIDELMENN: I don’t know. I wonder how long it will be before you forget we had this conversation?

WARREN: (growling) You don’t wanna piss me off, doc. I could kick your ass before the guard was even in the door.

DR. HEIDELMENN: I’m darting you.

WARREN: NO! No… oh, fuck. Fuck… You just wait., Heidelmenn… gonna make sure… they save your ass… for me…

DR. HEIDELMENN: Guard! Dr. Warren’s lying on my floor, unconscious and ready for transport back to the dorms. Get him out of here, will you?

GUARD: Yes, Sir, mobilizing a gurney team right now.

DR. HEIDELMENN: Thank you.


He awakens approximately twenty minutes later. In another window on my laptop, I watch him through the security camera mounted above his dorm room door. The first signs of life manifest in his penis as it hardens beneath the rubberized shorts they wear when in the presence of one of the staff. Almost instinctively, his hand finds his erection and he masturbates himself to consciousness, opening his eyes upon his orgasm. He looks around, recognizing his whereabouts and smiles.

He then looks directly into the camera as he wipes the cum from his body and licks it off his hands. He purses his lips, knowing I’m watching.

Standing, he flexes for himself in the mirror by his bed, then grabs a towel and heads for the communal shower across the hall.

Interesting that he would hint at some larger plan – as if I would believe that they have the memory capacity to sustain the idea. Ironically, what Dr. Warren didn’t know before his transformation was that federal funding had been slashed to the point where all non-essential staff will soon be terminated. Within the month, there will barely be enough guards to smoothly operate this Facility – certainly no doctors or staff, myself included.

As I watch Warren stride into the bathroom, I see – as he does – a man about two orgasms shy of being a Big One, shaving at one of the sinks, a towel wrapped around his tight waist. They high-five a friendly greeting and are soon flexing for each other in the mirror before them.

Warren had been partially right – they WOULD escape eventually. Chances are even greater when the staff shrinks. They would get out. And like vampires, they would infect the world. And we’ve made it nearly impossible to stop them.

Maybe the time to join them IS now…

As the big guy shaves, Dr. Warren kneels between him and the sink, releases the towel, and sucks the guy’s hardening cock. He seems remarkably happy and satisfied.

I open a security IM and send a request to have them bring Dr. Warren back to my office. I mean, what the hell? If I’m going to lose my job, I might as well go out in style…

My own cock hardens as I lean back in the chair and wait for him. •

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