Augmentations 6
by AKA
I swooned against his mass, and I could smell him, too. What was it that they did to these men to make that scent so strong and enticing? Did everyone else they encounter have the same reaction to it, or was it altered depending on whom they were assigned?
It was dark on the portico outside the entrance to my home. I had not instructed the house to engage exterior lighting, and he held me in his embrace as I shook from the orgasm that his kiss had produced. My balls ached. How could I keep this up? Where was I producing these ejaculations from? Had the man in my bed done something to me? Perhaps it had been placed in my drink at the bar? What was the explanation?
“Thank you,” he said. I felt his voice rumble in his broad chest, and I felt the hardness of his muscles surrounding me. “Do you want to do it out here in the rain, or may I come in?”
His voice sounded amused, confident, strong and forceful. He was asking me permission, but I had the distinct feeling that he didn’t care if I gave it or not. “Come in,” I said, and he literally lifted me into his arms and carried me back inside my house as the door slid closed behind us.
“I understand that we’re not alone,” he said. “And that you thought I wouldn’t be enough for you.” He was looking down at me and then he smiled. “I like that.”
“Fuck,” I said. I was completely unprepared for him. Power radiated from him like electrical waves. I had the sense that if he wanted to, there was nothing at all beyond his capabilities and strength. The man could fucking go into my downstairs weightroom, apply his large hands to the ceiling and raise my entire house off its foundations. “Can I....”
An eyebrow rose on his majestic head. “Of course you can,” he answered.
Of course I can. Was there any request to which he would even contemplate saying no? “Lights, 75 percent,” I said, because I wanted to get a better look at him. “You can set me down now,” I offered. “I think I’ve recovered sufficiently.”
“Maybe I should kiss you again, then,” he suggested, pushing some stray strands from my forehead in a tender fashion. From such a hulking brute, the gesture made my breath catch.
I swallowed hard. “For the moment, I just want to enjoy some eye candy.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding. “I’m at your service.”
He set me on my feet and straightened for me. He was certainly large, but it was difficult to tell if he was physically bigger than the man in my bed. “How tall are you?”
“I am two-point-one meters tall, approximately. I weigh 156 kilos, out of these clothes.” He paused, then asked, “And when do I get to strip out of these clothes?”
“When I say so,” I answered.
“Oh,” he said, “you and I are going to get along very well, indeed.” And then he stood there and allowed me to admire him.
A man in a suit is a special thing, particularly if the suit is well-tailored to the man inside. And, of course, this one was. He wore a dark grey chalk-stripe three-piece suit, worsted wool, with a crisp white dress shirt and a brick-red tie knotted into a Windsor. He looked both perfectly at home in it, and ready at any moment to burst its seams to reveal the undoubtedly glorious body beneath. His hair was dark brown, like mahogany or chocolate, and cut in a conservative fashion as if he were overdue for his job on Wall Street. It was combed into a part, and cut very short on the back and sides.
His face was clean-shaven, which accentuated its acute, masculine angles. His eyes were nearly black, inside heavy-lids giving him what some people call “bedroom eyes.” Full lips, turned up into a soft, knowing smile (he evidently enjoyed being admired so openly and lasciviously) and sideburns ending at his earlobes.
He was a MAN. Capital M-A-N. And the suit was trying its hardest to camouflage that in addition to his height and weight, he was packing some serious muscle underneath all that expensive and expertly-cut fabric. I made a small noise, something like “ooh” or “oof” and he put his hand on his crotch and cupped himself.
“And you haven’t even seen the best parts, yet.”
I met his storm-dark gaze and said, “Anticipation is sometimes its own reward.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed. “Your home is lovely,” he said, though his eyes stayed locked on mine. “When will the others arrive?”
“Others?”
“In your party for this evening.”
“There’s just me,” I explained. “Oh, and... the other... one.” I glanced toward my bedroom where my naked companion awaited my return.
“Yes, the other one.” He sounded dubious.
“Didn’t they tell you why you’re here?”
“For the usual reasons, I had assumed.”
“And what are those?”
“Whatever you wish them to be.”
“Without limits?”
He smiled. “Without limits. Without rules. Without permission.”
“Except for my permission.”
“Always.” His handsome face tilted and one elegant eyebrow arched. His dark eyes sparkled and his teeth shone like pearls. “You’re very unusual.”
“How can you tell?”
He paused, allowing his eyes to scan my nakedness. I let him look at me, unashamed and unafraid. “I can tell,” he said softly. “This should prove to be a very interesting evening.”
“For us both, I hope.”
His other eyebrow rose to match its brother. “Oh?”
“Now, I think.”
“Now?”
“You asked me when you get to strip.” His smile told me everything I needed to know. “But slowly, please. I want to enjoy this.”
“I can assure you, sir, you will enjoy every second you spend with me.”
“Satisfaction guaranteed?”
“I don’t think ‘satisfaction’ is quite adequate for what I have planned for you.”
His words - the way he said them as well as the words themselves - sent shivers up and down my spine, and my cock twitched of its own accord. He stepped forward and grabbed my by my prick, his grip smooth and firm and warm, and then something happened.
Something... some sensation... surrounded my cock and a thick, hard shock of sexual bliss erupted within me, centered there, where his hand was. It was as if, again, there was some kind of electric sexuality that he possessed, and which he could control and emit at will. The sensation, unlike anything I had ever felt, shook me and made my knees go weak and the breath caught in my throat. I nearly came again - I probably would have if I had anything left in my over-burdened balls.
I was beginning to understand why this man would normally service an entire party of other men. What was in his kiss? What was in his touch? How could he do these things to me so easily? And if that was what his lips and hands could do, what the fuck was I going to feel when he was shoving himself in my ass?
“What was...?” I asked in a whisper.
“A taste of things to come,” he growled. “Open your eyes. You won’t want to miss this.” He stepped back, placing his electrifying touch to the knot of his tie. “Perhaps you should sit down, before you fall down.”
“Perhaps I should.” My cock was still happily twitching and throbbing as the memory of his touch lingered there, like sparks and cinders from a fire dancing along its length. My asshole twitched, too, and I realized that the sensation - the pure sex - had traveled there as well. I flopped back into one of my Barcelona chairs, feeling its warm leather caressing my butt, and settled in to enjoy the show.
He loosened his tie and pulled it from around his thick, muscular neck. He was smiling the whole time, probably anticipating my reaction, or merely happy to be able to strip himself naked for me. Either way, the effect was one that broadcast both supreme confidence and lustful happiness. He enjoyed stripping for me. He wanted to show off what he had. And he wanted to watch my reaction as he unveiled himself to me.
The jacket came off next. He struggled a bit to remove it from his muscular frame, shrugging it from his mountainous shoulders and pulling it off his bulging arms with some effort before tossing it to the other chair. Then he was unbuttoning the vest, one button at a time, and he pulled that off, too.
Now he stood there wearing his tight, wool slacks and a crisp, white dress shirt. It was still buttoned up to his chin, and the effect was as if someone had taken a bodybuilder who’d just spent the last 24 hours pumping himself up to his maximum size, and then painted a business outfit on him. I could see the muscle shoving against the cotton and wool. And he paused for this effect, standing there with his hands at his sides, balling them into fists with restrained need to be out of the clothing.
My cock had plumped up to another award-winning erection in anticipation of this reveal. He looked like an animal forced into men’s clothing, but there was an elegance and beauty to him, as well, like this. Fully clothed, but nearly naked at the same time.
He undid the top button on his shirt. I could see the bulge of his biceps and chest as the muscle swelled. Then, without preamble, he placed his grip on the placket of his shirt, pulled his arms apart and ripped the shirt open.
Buttons flew everywhere. He was wearing a ribbed cotton athletic shirt beneath, and the material was stretched thin across his body so that I could see the darkness of his nipples and the wealth of fur that caressed the broad hemispheres of his huge pectorals. His nipples, large as half-dollars with pencil eraser nubs, pushed outward on the lower circumference of the squared-off globes mounted on his chest.
He ripped the rest of the shirt free as if the cotton were paper, and I could see his arms now exposed, the densely-packed brawn surmounted with fat veins. More of his shining fur coated his meaty forearms, and a wealth of moist curls was peaking out from beneath each deep armpit.
His smell erupted strongly as he exposed his upper body. God, he was magnificent. More than I had hoped for, really. And nearly enough to make me forget about the other beautiful man awaiting me on my bed.
He paused in his striptease and folded his arms across that chest. Everything bulged forward and my cock pulsed in happy observance of the man’s show of Alpha superiority. His smile was subtle. He knew what he was - who he was - and he could certainly see the effect his body was having on my body. And even though I had to believe that any man, no matter what his sexual proclivities might be, would have had the same reaction to this man’s incredible beauty and perfection of form, it appeared to me that my reaction pleased him, as if there was some doubt that I would approve and appreciate the god that stood before me.
“Shall I continue?” he asked. His voice was soft thunder.
I swallowed and tried to breathe. “If you like,” I said, trying to sound detached and failing quite miserably. I placed my hand on my happy hard-on and started to slowly stroke myself as I stared at the vision before me.
He lowered his arms and sank down, folding his perfect body to untie and remove his shining black dress shoes. My god, the man’s shoulders. How... how could he have built those? Lobes and folds of power swelled up beneath his ruddy copper skin. They were basketballs, but separated into distinct wedges of raw, flexing brawn. I think my jaw dropped open but I was no longer in complete control of my senses.
Then he stood again - Jesus, the man’s abdominals! Jesus! He was barefoot and if I were the type to worship a man’s feet, I would’ve been groveling on the carpet to suck each of his beautiful toes inside my mouth like ten perfect cocks. Feet were never a thing for me, but in his case I’d make an exception.
He was unbuckling his belt and pulling it from its loops before dropping it to the floor. Then he paused again. “Shirt first? Or would you prefer to see...?” He rubbed the ungodly bulge thrusting from his loins, indicating that my wish was his command.
“Shirt first,” I managed to say, though how my tongue was still working was a mystery to me.
He placed his hands at the hem of his too-tight undershirt and started to strip it off his torso.
I was glad I had requested the shirt first, because I nearly came again as he exposed his upper body to my disbelieving eyes.
No one looked like he did. No one was supposed to look like that, at least not in real life. No one could develop a body so perfect, so balanced, so beautiful. Artists, perhaps, could imagine it. Some might even be able to convey the masculine form in such flawless beauty. But men - men who walked the streets in your city, men who existed in real life, men standing in your living room stripping naked for you - real men never looked like this.
In the end, like his dress shirt, he merely ripped himself free of it. The muscles of his arms bulged fiercely, and he bent his back and shoved his broad, massive chest forward and ripped the shirt from his body like tissue paper. Then he stood there for me, pausing again for effect, and allowed my eyes to attempt to drink in his perfection.
He was breathing slowly. His chest rose and fell. The bulging egg carton of thick brawn on his belly expanded and contracted. Indeed, a thick forest of curls wound across the mountains of his chest, and wound through the valleys of his abs, and retreated in a thin, perfect like that pointed down toward the center of his body, where that heavy basket promised so much as it bulged between his legs.
This was an act of sex. I had no doubt at all. If this was all he did tonight, I would have been satisfied. My god, I hadn’t even seen his cock, yet, and already I knew that he was the most beautiful and sexiest man on the planet. I could feel it, feel him, as if he were radiating sex.
All that was left were the pants. I wasn’t sure I would be able to take him in complete naked glory. “Oh my god,” I said, or maybe I just thought it. The room was spinning. I felt giddy and drunk and massively, massively turned on.
I watched his fingers go to the hem of his pants. I watched him unfasten the top button and pinch the zipper’s latch between his fingers.
Here it comes, I thought. My eyes are going to burn away and my brain is going to sizzle. I’m not sure I’m ready for this - but I have to see it. I have to!
He pulled down the zipper and I realized, both to my relief and my disappointment, that his cock was wrapped inside a jockstrap. I could see the cream-white mesh material as it pushed its way forward, no doubt overburdened with its cargo.
He unzipped and pushed the dark wool slacks off his massive thighs. I had never seen leg muscles with that level of intensity and definition. They flared outward like folds of pure power, flexing and bulging to remind me that they were made of the man before me, and not hard steel or granite.
He was now all but naked, save for the jockstrap that was attempting with all its life to contain the monster within it. He turned around for me, because he knew I wanted to see his ass.
I gasped audibly as he revealed it to me. My god. My god. My fucking god. What an ass. What a perfect, beautiful - it was the very model of a man’s ass, the ass that all other asses longed to be, the ass that made you feel ashamed that the thing would ever have to be covered up, because it was so... so... My god. My motherfucking god above, what an ass.
It seemed framed by the cream-colored straps of his jock, with deep divots dug from the fully-formed muscular globes arching outward with power and beauty.
He flexed for me. I watched the two globes rise and kiss, watched him flex the mounds of brawn with expert finesse. And then he was bending over and opening for me. His thighs flared widely and the muscles of his buttocks stretched and elongated. A strong whiff of him assailed me as if this, his beautiful rosy pucker, the tight perfection of his asshole, was the source of his power and the wellspring of his sexuality.
I knew that could not be true, that I had not yet been granted a vision of the true source of all masculinity, but as I gazed in awe and wonder at his ass, I knew that inside I would find nirvana. Pure bliss. Utter ecstasy. Complete and total sexual perfection.
His hand appeared and moved over the muscular hump of his butt. He moved his strong fingers over and toward the moist, hot hole and then circled it slowly with his middle finger - his fuck you finger - stroking and caressing and worshiping himself with his magical touch. Then he pushed inside, both entertaining and torturing me. He withdrew his finger and it glistened with his juices. I ached to suck that digit between my lips. I wanted a taste of him, I wanted to know that sensation.
He stood up to his full height again, closing the gates of heaven to my eyes and allowing me to gaze again on the bulging, muscular grandeur of his ass. I could hear him sucking his finger. Pulling the masculine essence of himself inside his warm, wet mouth, tasting the pure male sensations of his perfect butthole.
Then he pivoted once more, and there it was before me. The overwhelming culmination of everything that had come before it.
His thumbs were hooked into the elastic waistband of his jock. He was slowly moving them in and out, from crotch to hip and back again, lowering the thick elastic band millimeter by millimeter. I could not look at his face, I was mesmerized by the anticipation and excitement manifest in the final reveal of his magnificence, but I was sure he was smiling with complete confidence and control - the ultimate Alpha ultimately exposed.
If I had any fantasies of maintaining my composure, they were all about to go out the window. Because he then did something I had never seen before - I wasn’t even sure it was possible, but... his cock began to stretch, lengthening and thickening inside the elastic pouch that held it. The jockstrap seemed ordinary enough, which is perhaps why it could not contend with contents so extraordinary.
As his cock grew, its dimensions and attributes manifested against the jock’s stretching material. It began by drooping forward, pushing against the cage like a wild animal needing release. It pushed farther and farther, inch by inch, until the straps began to pull away from his body by the sheer size of his manhood.
The broad waistband began to thin as it, too, stretched forward. His cock was unstoppable, pushing mightily and without apparent trouble, and then I heard the first tear.
It was unbelievable. Did he really propose to accomplish what it appeared to be happening? Could he?
His cock was still growing, seemingly of its own magical might. He wasn’t pinching his nipples or stroking its length or doing anything at all other than simply standing there, watching me watching him - or, rather, watching me watching his cock growing.
How long was it already? Nine inches? Ten? And it showed no signs of slowing, let alone stopping.
Another small tearing noise. His cock was pushed forward like a dousing rod from his beautiful body, pointing at its object of desire. The jock sagged from the weight of his balls and was being slowly stretched to the breaking point as his cock - his huge, strong, impossible cock - continued to grow. Now I could see the rips in the athletic garment, and they were occurring at the point where the head of his prick was pushing with fierce and unyielding determination at the end of the jockstrap. I could see the kiss of pink flesh, now, peeking through a small hole that was, by tiny bits, expanding.
Now the jock’s pouch was pulled far from his body and the straps were trying to dig into his flesh. The waistband was fraying. It was impossible. It was awesome. Using his cock - and nothing but his cock - he was intent on destroying the cloth cage that held him back from showing me his true magnificence and utter masculine perfection.
I could not take my eyes from his amazing show. Nothing else mattered. The pressure was building. The suspense was terrible. My excitement - and my own cock’s delight - was growing with every passing second.
Twelve inches now? More? How fucking big was he?
The rip opened up and I could see the small, lovely mouth of his prick. It was drooling clear honey. He was turned on. Why wouldn’t he be? Maybe he was perpetually in a state of sexual excitement. Maybe it took all his concentration to keep his monster at bay, and this was no challenge to him at all! My heart sped up and I felt hot and wet and incredibly horny. He looked hard as a rock.
I looked up at his face. He was watching me, watching my reaction, perhaps measuring my pleasure at what I was seeing, at what he was showing me.
Then, as if he knew that the show’s finale was overdue, his cock simply tore itself free, surging forward and ripping open the jockstrap’s material, stretching toward me as if to enter my mouth whether I wanted it to or not.
And by god, I did. His meat was succulent and prime and swollen with power. The head blossomed from its cowl and drooled a silver thread to the floor. He moved his hands inside the straps at his tight, narrow waist and ripped himself completely free of everything, utterly naked and beautiful.
He stood there, now, with his cock pulsing with hard, dull throbs as it rose upward, swelling larger still. The monster was streaming a flow of precum from its mouth that drizzled along the red, shiny shaft toward two fat balls hanging inside the skin that held them. Massive, too, and I imagined them filled with cream that would erupt with enough force and copiousness that he’d rip the very roof from my home and create a new galaxy in the sky. I knew that he could do it, if he wanted to. He could do anything.
Unveiled at last in his glorious perfection, my cock was throbbing and my brain sizzled and my body was sweating with lust and need. His scent was overpowering and the untapped and irresistible capacity of his body radiates outward like light and heat from his perfect and beautiful body.
I looked at his prick and my jaw dropped open as if in preparation to attempt to surround its girth. I was scared and excited in equal measure. “How big are you?”
His chin rose slightly. “I expect you are referring to this,” he said, indicating the erection throbbing so prominently before him. I nodded. “25.5 centimeters.” I swallowed drily, thinking that couldn’t possibly be right, he was never so small, before he added, “Soft.”
I took a slow breath to steady myself, watching his erection throb and drool. “And hard?”
“40.5 centimeters.” He said it with a hint of pride, but also very businesslike. A statement, not a boast. But, Jesus! A 15-centimeter difference from limp to erect?
“Impressive,” I complimented.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“It’s... challenging.”
“But worth it,” he said. He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “You are very unusual,” he repeated.
“Why do you say that?”
“Most other men I have been with seemed to prefer to pretend that I am not different from them. They didn’t want to... see me. Watch me. Watch me change.”
“See you?”
“The real me. What I am. And what I can do. And how I can do it.”
“I love seeing you. You’re...glorious,” I said. And I meant it.
“Thank you,” he answered, and he looked somewhat surprised. “Now I really want to meet the other fellow. It sounds like you’ve been having a very interesting night, indeed.”
“It has been... mutually beneficial.”
“Undoubtedly.” His cock was grandly throbbing, ready for whatever task I wanted to set it.
“Can you..?”
“Probably. Can I what?”
“Cum? On command?”
He smiled, and then he did it. A fat gout of cream audibly emitted from his thick, powerful erection, merely because I wished it. If it was accompanied by an orgasm, he did not seem to outwardly feel it. He was simply pushing a heavy load of rich, warm cream from his balls and up the inches of his rock-hard prick. “Shall I continue?” he asked, as the last drizzling drops of his shot clung to the glassy dome of his hard-on.
But it was curiously...unsexy. “No,” I answered. “I think I prefer to make you cum using more conventional methods.”
“I see.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but there’s a certain lack of... effort. If you see what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I fully understand,” he replied, truthfully.
“Perhaps you should talk with my other companion for the evening. He knows what I want, now. He understands. And maybe you should hear it from him.”
“If you prefer,” he answered. He gazed down at the creamy mess clinging to his cock head and asked, “Would you like to lick me clean?”
The question seemed so pedantic. And then I realized why. “You didn’t bond with me.”
“Level Five and above bond for life. I assumed that this was for one evening only.”
His answer shocked me. “For life?”
A nod. “Yes,” he said. “For life.”
I looked at him, at his beautiful face, at his perfect body, and thought about that. “When you are bonded, then, there are special....”
He grinned. “Very unusual. Yes, when I bond with someone, it allows us to share particular sensations and emotions through the bond. The bond is... more intense. On several levels.”
I wasn’t sure I understood that, given the level of intensity that the other companion and I were sharing. How could it be more than that? What other levels? I realized I hadn’t answered his original question, as his erection continued dripping onto my floors, so I said, “No, let’s save all that for later. After you and my friend have had a chance to meet.”
“Of course.” Then he... I could hardly believe it. He bent himself down and took the whole of the bulb of his cock head inside his mouth and sucked himself clean with evident enjoyment. His cock even seemed to arch itself toward his mouth, as if he could physically control where it pointed - and perhaps he could. He rose again, wiping the corners of his mouth, and I watched as his impressive hard-on quickly grow limp, delating to its more usual glory, looking thick and heavy as it hung above his large ball sack. “The bedroom, I believe?”
I nodded. “Follow me, please.”
I turned and walked toward the bedroom, and indeed my other companion was there on the bed, as I had asked, naked and beautiful and perfect. “I missed you,” he said, and I could feel honesty in the bond, before the other Companion entered after me, and his gaze focused on the other man’s huge frame, and the bond conveyed his curiosity and wonder. “Hello,” he said, in simple greeting.
“Hello,” the Level 5 said back. “How are you?”
The newly-minted Level 4 smiled. “Nearly perfect.”
“So it appears,” his friend observed. Then he looked at me. “Have you enjoyed his services?”
“He’s very, very good at a number of things. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve both had an... eventful evening, so far.”
His eyebrow arched. “A number of things? But not everything.”
“We haven’t done everything,” I volunteered. “Believe me, we were on our way, but then....” I shrugged and let the man’s new and improved size speak for itself.
He was, indeed, huge. But after watching the Level 5’s striptease, the other man in my bed seemed small - which was a ludicrous observation under any other circumstances.
The Level 5 looked at the Level 4, spread-eagled on his back, with his hard-on pulsing a steady rhythm against his 8-pack abs. “Seems a shame to leave him lying there like that.” He gazed at me, towering above me, a massively muscled giant with a stormcloud gaze and a cock that would choke, well, anyone. “Do you mind if we have a little time to ourselves? I understand this is an unusual request, but these are unusual circumstances.”
“I suppose... is that all right with you?” I asked the man in my bed.
He looked at me and smiled. “Of course.”
I turned to the Level 5 and was surprised at the look on his face. He was staring at me with... concern? Shock? Bewilderment? I asked him, “What’s the matter?”
“You asked him if he would be all right with the request.”
“Of course I did.”
“But... he’s yours.”
I huffed a gentle laugh from my nose. “I’ll let him explain what we’ve been up to. It’ll be easier, I think, than if I tried to do it all over again with you.”
“Do what?”
I smiled, but did not answer. “I’ll leave you gentlemen alone. Just come see me when you’re ready. I’ll be in the living room.”
He said, that giant god-man, that ‘he’s yours.’ He belonged to me. I could do anything with him, ask anything of him, and he would do it. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
I glanced at the closed door to my bedroom and wondered what those two men were doing. Were they even men? They looked like men - hell, they looked much better than any man I could imagine, let alone encountered. Bought and paid for, they were both ‘mine.’
What a world we had created. Were they clones? Not really, or if they were, my mind was spinning at the thought that there could be more than one of those men out in the world. Were they even adults? How old, in years, were they? Grown for specific purpose, loaned out or bought outright, programmed, as it were, to be exactly what they were. Perfect sex machines. Perfect sex partners.
Perfect.
But not exactly human. Not born from a womb, and not raised by parents, and not given status in our world like I was. And I was fine with that, really. There were still probably people, somewhere, who remembered what it was like before corporate breeding, before life - a life - could be patented and trademarked and copyrighted. Before some entity started making these perfect beings and loaning them out for a price.
I sat down on a long leather couch and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows towards my pool, and the pouring rain, and the unrelenting storm. So many of these, now. Climate change had climate changed. They tried to control it in the population centers, but weather is weather, isn’t it? The seas tumble and roil, the skies open up, the winds push and pull, and here I am, sitting on my comfortable couch, watching the world trying to rip itself open while two beautiful naked men are in my bedroom doing... something.
I looked at the closed door and wondered what went on inside. Did they have secret panels that opened up for maintenance? They weren’t automatons or androids or robots, they were flesh and blood, made of muscle and bone like I was, but entirely different. Simple, in some ways, and very complicated in others.
I thought about the differences between them. There were the physical, of course. My dick throbbed again as I even considered the larger of them, and his beauty and power and overwhelming presence. How could he ever function in the real world, anyway, given that level of perfection? Bred into his every cell, pumped up by augmentations and amplifications, and then polished to a perfect shine.
And then there was my first companion. Watching him grow and develop had been exciting and wondrous and amazing. It turned me on much more than I would have imagined, and the end-product was simply staggering. Were it not for the arrival of his replacement, I would have said he was...
But my ruminations were interrupted when the door re-opened, and the two naked men stepped from my bedroom and came over to where I waited on my couch. They were smiling, and looked perfect and perfectly content and happy. The Level 5 looked as beautiful and perfect as I remembered, and curiously, the Level 4 still owned a raging erection that wagged and wavered as he walked toward me.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” the larger of the two men said. I had nearly forgotten his voice, its richness and power. “May I congratulate you on your perception and generosity of spirit?”
“I... guess so? I’m not sure....”
He glanced at the other man and said, “He has told me what has been transpiring between you. As I thought, you have had a very unusual evening, so far.”
I shrugged. “Not so unusual.” I looked at the smaller (though it seemed ludicrous to think of him as ‘smaller’ than anyone) of the two and said, “I merely told him how to make me happy, and he did all that I asked. I believe that is what I contracted for.”
The taller man nodded his dark-maned head. “Indeed.” Then he said, “You are aware of the inherent risks involved when engaging in relations with a newly-evolved Companion?”
“I signed something,” I explained. “And I heard the warnings and all that. So I’m aware.”
“Very good. And I believe you wish to proceed with your plans?”
I nodded. “That’s my intention.”
“And that you wish me involved as well?”
I looked at the other man and asked, “Is that okay?”
His smile returned to his gorgeous face and he glanced at his companion and nodded, saying, “Of course!” I felt love and desire and a throbbing sexuality through the bond. Oh, he was okay with it, all right.
“You still.. you’re still aware of my instructions?”
He stated, with a smile, “You want me to act according to my own desires and inclinations. You want my body to react naturally. If I am aroused, I will allow myself to become aroused, and allow my body to react accordingly. I will not behave in a manner only because I know it will please you, though if your pleasure is manifested in my behavior or reactions, you will allow that.” They were the exact words he had used earlier, spoken exactly the same. I glanced at his throbbing prick, wondering why exactly he was so aroused at the moment.
But I said, “Exactly right.” Then I looked at the Level 5. “The same goes for you.”
His eyes flickered at the instruction. “I had not expected....”
“Regardless of your expectations, the same goes for you. While you’re here, while you’re with me, I need... I want you to be free with your actions and desires. I assume that you are expected to do and say and act according to my desires, but I don’t want my desires to take precedence over yours.”
“That’s... that’s not an easy request.”
I had to smile. “That’s what he said.” I stood up, wanting to make my intentions explicit. “I think I understand your dilemma. There’s a bit of a logic loop involved. Your instructions are to do whatever I tell you to do in order to make me happy. But my instructions are not to do whatever I tell you to do, and only to do it if it makes you happy - and also to do whatever it is that makes you happy whether or not it makes me happy. So in order to make me happy, you may be required to do something that doesn’t make me happy.”
“Just so,” he said, in his deep and powerful tones.
“I understand that, but that’s what I’m telling you.” I looked into the depthless darkness of his eyes and asked, “Can you do that?”
His eyes searched mine. Was he trying to find a way out of it? Was he trying to see if I was being truthful? We had no bonding, so there was no way for me to discern his understanding or acceptance of my instructions. Then his body - his immense, gorgeous, perfect body - seemed to relax a bit, as if he had been at attention the entire time and I had released the strings that held him, and he said, “I will attempt to comply.”
“I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.” But his words sent a slight shock of desire and anticipation and excitement through me. My cock throbbed at the idea that I could fulfill this man’s wishes, rather than the other way around. And it would not be because I instructed him to do so - it would be because he wanted it.
“Very well,” he said. “What do you wish to do now?”
“No,” I said, attempting to poke my index finger into the hard, meaty muscle of his prominent and breathtaking chest. “What do you wish to do?”
I watched his full, sensuous lips curl into a smile, and his dark eyes twinkled like black gems. His gigantic manhood began to swell and lengthen. His demeanor changed slightly and I sensed a thrill of desire and excitement and anticipation erupt from his huge frame. He seemed all at once both dangerous and wildly desirable.
The smaller Companion sent a sudden gush of sexual excitement and wonder through the bonding, and I felt an accompanying rush of heat wash over my naked flesh. It felt, in the moment, as if the very air inside that room had changed, and the strong, intoxicating scent of the two beautiful men grew nearly overwhelming.
“I have an idea,” he said at last. His voice was gruff and hard and deep, and he lifted his muscled arm and set it across the mountain range that topped my Companion’s shoulders. “Something I think we all will enjoy.” He looked at each of us, and then his smile returned and the sexual heat in the room surpassed volcanic levels.