Transform: New Blood 35
by AKA
Corp. Zachary Marshall Braddock, Jr. knew it was his last chance. He was lying naked on a cold metal table, strapped to it with leather bands across his forehead, chest, belly and thighs, and metal cuffs secured his wrists and ankles. His body was already a fairly amazing collection of brawn and beauty, because he had been covertly – or not so covertly, as it had turned out – observing a certain young man held in captivity by the Main Office. The young man had been infected with a virus or a bacteria or something that caused massive muscular development and increased libido and an overall growth to his physical development that left him at nearly twice the size of an average man, but with some extras thrown in.Now Marshall was a “volunteer” for the next phase of a series of experiments that, so far, had yielded “disappointing results” – including but not limited to the expiration of all of the previous “volunteers.”
He knew he wasn’t supposed to be watching the young man, because the method by which the young man had been changed was the method by which he himself had been slowly, inexorably changing.
He felt the changes, at first, and then witnessed them as his muscles grew larger at an alarming rate, followed by the development of his penis and testes, also growing in size well past puberty’s end. His arms swelled with biceps and triceps of increasing mass and definition. His belly went from semi-soft to firm to rock hard. The muscles along his legs separated into defined lobes, rippled and bulging, his shoulders spread too wide to be easily accommodated by his shirts, and his pectoral shelf grew fat and deep and thick. Veins were popping up across his skin as the fat turned into brawn, and finally his face had begun to change in slight but noticeable ways, intensifying his masculine attributes -- broadening his brow, sharpening his cheeks, jutting his jaw and bringing an increase to the amount of shaving he had to perform.
At the same time, other changes had occurred that effected how he felt in the presence of other men, feelings that he suspected had been there all along, but which were growing too pronounced to easily ignore or hide – particularly given the fact that he was experiencing erections of considerable power and increasing size with alarming frequency when with them, and then when thinking about them, and finally when fantasizing what it would be like to be with them, naked, and seriously aroused. Feelings that manifested watching the naked form of the giant teen on the monitor screen that finally lead to Marshall lying on this cold metal table now. The beautiful, innocent young man with the piercing eyes and the friendly smile and the huge, massive, perfect cock.
He realized he was growing seriously aroused right now. Blood pumped into his prick. He could feel it throb and shift as it swelled to erection. It was so common anymore that he might otherwise not have noticed it, except that his cock, like several other points on his well-developed form, had monitoring probes attached. The small circular attachment clung to his stretching skin as his prick inflated, and the feeling only made him get harder.
He was on the lowest level on Main Office, on the same floor where the prisoners and the “infected” were being held because it had the highest level of security and the thickest walls. The air, here, was filtered. Access was tightly controlled. Every room, every corridor, even the rest rooms were under constant surveillance. As he was now. As were the other two men in the room, both wearing hazardous materials suits, because Marshall was now deemed a hazardous material.
A lab technician stood in another room, monitoring the situation. Somewhere nearby, or perhaps hundreds of yards away, the young man who Marshall had been observing as he slowly changed to the man he was now, a 12-foot tall teenager named Jason, sat in solitary confinement. The others who had been infected were here, too, somewhere.
But all Marshall felt at the moment was exposed, vulnerable, and scared.
His body tensed involuntarily, causing all his muscles to swell and tighten. “You need to relax,” he heard a voice say. Moving his head was difficult. He shifted his eyes and tried to look at one of the other’s men’s faces behind their protective headgear, but couldn’t see anything. He swallowed into a dry throat and closed his eyes.
Immediately, the face of the young man popped into his mind. He was smiling, lying back against a wall, his fat, long prick held in his hand. He was looking into Marshall’s eyes and he slowly, lovingly stroked himself. His cock was huge, the skin so tight against the hard shaft that it was glassy and red. A flow of thick, clear honey drooled from the tip and poured down its entire length as he moved his hand up and down, up and down, pumping the lube with evident ease. The young man’s face was eerily beautiful, angelic in its perfection. His body was a collection of muscular mounds that belied his age, evidencing an extent of development that would take many years of constant work at a gym. His body was so clean and beautiful, nearly hairless, and Marshall could see the young man’s balls physically bulging and moving as if they were being massaged by invisible hands.
The boy leaned forward, causing his abdominals to pop and swell against each other. His eyes stayed locked on Marshall as he slowly opened his mouth and leaned toward the towering expression of male sexuality, placing his lips against the flowing fount of his own copious flow before sucking the bulbous helmet inside and…
“Jason…”
“Corporal Braddock!”
The voice called him back from reverie. The dream was too beautiful to let it slip away. His eyes snapped open. He realized he was rock hard. He could feel a throbbing flow of cream in the shaft of his dick. He was at the edge of orgasm but he tamed it, pulled it back, resumed control over his sexual power.
“Relax your arm. The needle won’t penetrate the muscle like this.”
Marshall was eight feet tall. His physical metamorphosis was accelerating. His exposure was greater than he intended. He was changing, slowly but surely, into something they would seal away as they had done to Jason.
He couldn’t stand that. He would do anything to prevent it.
Whatever they asked of him.
They’d prepped him to understand what was likely to happen to him. They couldn’t reverse the process that was already taking place, but they could alter it. They were certain of it.
He knew they weren’t certain of anything. But he was left with little choice. He agreed to be the next “volunteer.” It occurred to him, as the needle pierced his flesh, that volunteer and victim both started with the same letter.
Elsewhere, two men who had been fully Transformed during a procedure to capture the man whose electronic broadcast had enabled Jason to change, and whose transformation had then altered Marshall’s genetic chemistry, in effect making them all related to the same strain of the infection, had met in a room and begun to make love to each other, unable or unwilling to contain their physical and emotional needs, and unschooled in the full nature of their newly Transformed bodies.
And with that release, came another one. Because the man who had changed them all was gifted with a new, stronger, deeper capability that manifested as a transference of Transform as a manifestation of sex, even if the other man wasn’t in the same room.
Even if he was several yards away. But breathing the same air.
A sexual blast of pheromones released invisibly, unable to dissipate, and spread by the same oxygen filtration system meant to keep it out.
Main Office had been developing an alternative to Transform, hoping to erase its initial mistakes and improve on its capabilities at the same time. It wanted control back in its own arms, and resented the fact that the Brotherhood existed at all, let alone that it roamed so freely and with such cavalier disregard for propriety and all that is right. They were monstrous freaks, sexual oddities, and they threatened the very nature of “The American Way of Life.”
Failure after failure had resulted. Men had literally exploded from muscular growth. Others grew too violent to contain. Still others were fuck pistons, interested only in sticking their big dicks into any available hole, their minds overwhelmed by the flood of testosterone that always accompanied the alterations.
What Mr. Peck wanted were perfect soldiers, perfectly restrained. Take the good parts of the Brotherhood – the strength, the size, the flight, the stealth, the memory, the self-sustaining always-on super-powered superman – and erase everything that made them flawed. Their predilection for homosexual sex, or for any kind of sex for that matter. Strip them of that unfortunate streak of individual personality. They didn’t want humans, they wanted something better than humanity, something that could be used as a weapon, something whose moral code was programmable, not innate.
They wanted the body, but not the brain. They wanted the power, but not the self-control. They wanted the aggression back, but rechanneled into action rather than a quest for the next piece of ass.
Failure after failure.
A fire entered Marshall’s body as the serum took hold. Moments later, Transform entered the room like a ghost, slipping inside on silent feet, a slim invisible fog. It touched Marshall’s naked body and sank into his flesh, entering him through pores and follicles and nerve endings as the other serum, code-named Augment, swam through his blood.
The changes began immediately.
And a conflict took over inside Zachary Marshall Braddock’s body.
Transform was designed as a trigger, using the body’s own internal facilities to alter itself. Muscle cells multiplied naturally, the body broke down its former construction in favor of the new one, with a pliable skeleton and super-elastic skin and a self-repairing mechanism so thorough and powerful that damage was repaired almost before it occurred.
Augment worked in an opposite manner. It didn’t feed on the host’s body, it required external input. Main Office had failed so often trying to use Transform against itself, it had resorted to a new platform. Augment would feed on the external sustenance of whomever it encountered and extract growth and development directly from another host.
It was a parasite. But with Transform’s help, it grew much faster than intended, and overwhelmed the other, stronger strain within this body.
Marshall’s body was swelling with muscle and size, breaking free of the restraints that held it in place. He shot his arm out and grabbed onto the wrist of the man holding the needle. He tore the man’s suit open and grabbed his arm, hard, a natural hunger driving his rage.
The man felt the effects instantly. Augment launched itself into the connection and extended tendrils into the other man’s body, sucking his power, his energy, his muscles directly into Marshall’s body.
He was physically shrinking as Marshall’s body began to swell. The veins across Marshall’s naked form thickened and throbbed. His muscles bulged beneath his skin as his body consumed the other man’s. His chest ballooned out, his thighs thickened, his arms were swollen to the point of bursting.
The other man collapsed to the floor, moaning softly, an empty shell, barely alive. Marshall turned and charged at the third man, grabbing his helmet and ripping it free. The man struggled to escape, falling to the floor, kicking his feet. Marshall reached down and placed his palm against the other man’s face, resting his hand against his cheek.
The other man screamed, a feral howl of fear and pain. His face was already shrinking as if melting. Marshall was again swelling larger. The veins across his body became engorged, the network of vascular threads swelling and multiplying as he absorbed the other man’s strength. The biceps on the arm attached to the man inflated grossly, as large as his head, before Marshall’s body absorbed the power more fully into itself.
The man no longer struggled as Marshall feasted on his muscle. He devoured as much as he could get until his body looked like it might burst through his skin.
The other man had nothing left inside him, and collapsed. Marshall stood up, his body an obscene mass of bulging muscle now so large that it threatened to overwhelm him. He felt powerful, angry, and hungry for one thing and one thing only.
He opened his mouth and released a howl from his broad chest.
“Jaaaaaaasoooooon!”
A young man, 12 feet tall, angelically beautiful and muscled beyond belief, lifted his head. Someone was calling to him. He had no choice.
He had to answer.