Transform: New Blood 38

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::Ready?:: Maddox had his finger poised over a blinking red button. Klaxons were shouting their electronic alarms throughout the facility. He was sitting in Security, manning his usual post, with a bank of monitors arrayed before him displaying scenes of orderly mayhem erupting in every corridor.

::Not yet. Hold on.:: Wolf’s Russian-inflected voice sang through his head. He could feel the other man’s sense of excitement mingled with trepidation. There was no fear in the man’s head at all. He seemed unnaturally calm, given what was going on all around them. Maddox felt a sense of pride in his comrade.

::I’m out of time! Get your pretty ass in gear, you fucking Commie bastard!:: Sherman Tipton’s voice brought back memories to Maddox of the man he used to be, the military asshole who had been his superior and in charge of the old Main Office before it had been destroyed. Sherman had become an unwilling member of the Brotherhood on that day, but to his credit, he had never looked back. Maddox had to smile at the sound of the old General once again in his mind.

::Hold on, please. Just a minute longer.::

Maddox looked up at the monitors again, looking for his friends in the building confusion. Wolf was in Recon, a form of military police, but more like C.I.A. operatives than cops. He was as close to the action as they could get. Sherman was in the labs, a relatively minor functionary but in a position to monitor Main Office’s progress in creating their own version of Transform – or a way to bring an end to the Brotherhood for good. And Maddox was in Comm-Sec, communications and security, able to watch everything and everywhere with the aid of the Office’s myriad spy cameras and monitoring equipment.

They had assumed the identities of three members of Main Office who were now also members of the Transformed Brotherhood. That was two weeks ago. Their infiltration had gone unnoticed, almost miraculously, but given the circumstances that had been occurring over that period, maybe it wasn’t so hard to believe.

First there was the capture of a young man named Jason, who had been inadvertently given a slim, slow-acting form of Transform that had gradually turned him from an introverted, closeted high school teen with a fast Internet connection into a seething cauldron of sexual and muscular power, able himself to gift anyone else he came in contact with the same slowly metamorphosing version of Transform. How he had contracted it and what happened since had hardly been mysterious, because both Main Office and the Brotherhood had been searching for another man, the instigator of Jason’s sudden evolution, known only as SelfSuckSam.

Main Office found him first.

His name, as it turned out, wasn’t Sam. It was Robbie. And Robbie had been busy. Another Transformed man had been brought in with him, a man named Mitch, though that was short for his actual given Cree name. During those men’s capture, Robbie had somehow managed to Transform four more men, members of Main Office, all of whom had been brought back to the Alaskan headquarters building buried deep under the permafrost.

And that was their big mistake.

They had made many others, due to short-sightedness or simple stupidity. Maddox wasn’t surprised by that, he’d been dealing with bureaucracies and government red tape in many forms over the years. It was almost impossible to actually get anything done. Why occupy the entire facility with men, when men were the only ones susceptible to Transformation? Why keep everything in a single facility, when the danger was obvious? And why put a man like Peck in charge of Main Office, when the man was clearly insane?

Well, maybe not insane. But certainly the biggest asshole that Maddox had ever encountered.

And that was saying something.

The final stupidity, though the humanity behind it surprised Maddox, was allowing any of the captured men to come together. Perhaps it had escaped their attention that a Transformed man on his own was a threat, but putting two of them together amounted to lighting the fuse and throwing the bomb into a fireworks factory.

Something was just bound to explode.

Surprisingly – or perhaps, in hindsight, not – it was the exposed Main Office soldiers who had caused the fireworks to go off. Unable to contain their new capabilities, and unaware that they even had them, the four Transformed soldiers had inadvertently released a maelstrom of sexual power that took the officers and administration of Main Office by surprise, and started the wheels of a train that now threatened to destroy the very men it was intended to save.

 

The red button kept blinking. Maddox stared at the broadcast vision of his comrade’s massive form bent over a small metal box. ::Wolf?::

::Almost. Almost.::

Wolf strained at the mechanism. It was a devilishly clever way of disarming a man like him, who was capable of feats of physical strength that made almost anything put in his way turn into crushed debris and useless rubble. But there was no way for him to physically overwhelm this lock, it required finesse of a sort that sheer muscular power, no matter how beefy, couldn’t provide.

::Fuck! Fuck!:: Sherman’s voice came through the sirens and alarms with clarity, like a church bell ringing on a quiet Sunday morning. ::Jesus fucking Christ, what is taking so long?!?::

Maddox watched the scene unfolding on his console. :Doesn’t he realize what will happen?:: Maddox thought of Marshall. He suddenly wanted to switch places with Sherman. Not that he didn’t trust him, but he probably lacked a certain level of understanding that would be important.

Sherman answered Maddox as if a child had asked the question. The sarcasm was thick. ::I guess not! I guess being physically altered by some unproven, experimental serum that strips out the containments on aggression and anger has him slightly pissed off! I guess it hasn’t occurred to him that if he keeps this up, the whole world is gonna collapse in on us all and…::

Maddox shut him down. He’d go on like that. But it was understandable. He was in the middle of the shitstorm.

 

Sherman stood staring at the security door that lead into the containment room. Another heavy boom sounded from behind it. Another fat dent appeared. Overhead, embedded in the very concrete of Main Office, sensors were monitoring the entire complex for tremors and shaking of a type not consistent with the area’s unstable tectonics. They were programmed to ignore the movements of the earth’s faults, and to look for more centralized shaking that originated not from the outside of the building, but from the inside.

The kind that might result from the sudden, explicable swelling growth of average men into over-muscled giants, grown so large, so quickly, that their very bodies were shoving the walls and ceilings aside like paper. The kind that had overwhelmed the original Main Office some months before.

The kind that was happening now.

According to Wolf, Operation Midnight would not be triggered until structural failure actually occurred. The extent of that failure was uncertain. But so was Wolf.

It was the perfect storm of circumstances. And Sherman Tipton just happened to find himself in the middle of it.

Something unforeseen, something uncontrollable was growing in the lab. Transform had been unleashed. Inadvertently, unknowingly, but nonetheless it was loose in the facility. The four young men who had been allowed together had seen to that. A stupid mistake, and a human one, but the results were now pounding at the thick metal door that separated Sherman Tipton from their lair.

Sherman knew him, though he knew Sherman as someone else. They had shared meals together. Maddox, that fucking oversexed bastard, had a thing for him. Marshall Motherfucking Braddock. An idiot who didn’t even have the sense to keep his dick in his trousers in the heart of Main Office!

He was howling like an animal. He was swollen with the absorbed strength of three men, and had been partially Transformed. He was growing, slowly, as the two formulas at war within him came to equilibrium. Who knew what he’d turn into?

He could practically smell him. And he was swelling with more power and raining blows on the 6-inch thick solid stainless steel security door that held him away from where Sherman Tipton, alone, stood to hold him back.

Sherman knew it would be easy to stop him. All he had to do was fully Transform him. Overwhelm whatever they had done to him with the ultimate power that flowed through every cell in Sherman’s tightly compacted body.

Or so he hoped. The other man’s body and mind had been toyed with.

And yet he couldn’t even do that until fucking Wolf managed to fucking override the fucking security system so fucking Maddox could fucking activate it and shut it down. It was a sound theory, but who knew what the fuck was going to happen? Would overriding it start the chain-reaction? If activated and nothing happens, what would the back-up systems do?

What if it was all just bullshit and he was standing here with his dick in his hands like some first-year private? Fuck!

Marshall, or whatever Marshall was now, shoved himself against the door again. He was howling something that Sherman couldn’t understand. Maybe he was just howling. He wished to God he’d just shut the fuck up, it was starting to get on his nerves.

Another heavy thud shook the room, but it didn’t come from the door. It came from behind him. Sherman’s brow wrinkled and he started to turn around when the wall at the back of the room exploded inward and a silhouette stood in the pulverized collection of rebar, concrete and, yes, that certainly did look like something resembling a monitoring device. “The fuck?”

The silhouette said, “I’m here.”

Sherman sent out a distress signal. The walls were coming down. It was now or never. ::Wolf?::

 

Maddox looked from the monitor showing him Sherman in the room next to Marshall’s muscle-bloated body to the one showing Wolf kneeling next to a wall in a white room. There was a man standing behind him.

 

The Russian had a gun to his head. “Stop right now!”

He could feel the cold barrel pressing against his scalp. “No.”

“Stop or I’ll fire.”

The gun shifted slightly when the trigger was cocked. “I cannot stop.”

“This is your final warning!”

Wolf dug his fingers into the tangle of wires erupting from the final metal box on the wall, the twelfth one he’d had to explore, and extracted the blue wire with white stripes. He tightened his pinch and pulled, squeezing his eyes shut.

He realized that a gun going off behind your head is exceptionally loud.

 

There was a bright flash in the monitor where Maddox watched Wolf disengage the final security mechanism. The red button under his fore finger stopped flashing and turned solid red.

He pressed it.

 

“Who are you?” Sherman’s body was already swelling with muscle. He was splitting the seams of his uniform, shredding it as he grew.

The figure stepped into the room with him. He was beautiful, and naked, and had clearly been Transformed to some extent. “I’m Jason.”

The door behind them collapsed as a final hard boom struck it from behind. It flew outward and hit Sherman’s swelling mass of muscle with enough force to stagger him. Jason said, “Whoa!” and ducked involuntarily as a huge mass of naked, vein-covered muscle charged forward.

Sherman called, “Look out!” as he tried to reach forward to deliver a massive dose of Transform from himself, hoping to overwhelm the transgressor.

“You can’t help,” Jason said softly, and stepped into Sherman’s touch, receiving the full impact of the other man’s Transformation. He began quickly to swell with power.

The third man’s eyes searched the room and he smelled the air like an animal, until he located which of the two suddenly inflating figures in the room was his. They had a bond, joined through electronic means, made stronger over time, and now coming to fruition together.

“Jason,” Marshall said, his voice a torn resonance of pain. Tears filled his maddened eyes as he looked for the first time at this most beautiful man.

“Don’t touch him!” Sherman warned.

“Hello,” Jason answered simply, and he opened his arms to gather Marshall’s grotesquely muscle-bound body into his embrace.

The swollen, throbbing mass shrunk back from him. “No,” he murmured, “Can’t!”

“Help them,” Jason told Sherman. There were two seemingly lifeless forms beyond the shattered doorway. Jason continued to grow larger and larger. His chest inflated with power, cables of brawn reaching across each hemisphere and met in the middle, shoving more and more power into his pecs. His shoulders split and bulged and split again. His arms were swollen masses of beautiful, perfect muscle. His dicks spilled forward by the inch, firm and thick and perfect. “Come here,” he instructed the bloated form before him.

“Can’t!” it blubbered. Its eyes were swollen with tears. They rolled down Marshall’s shiny, vein-covered face.

“Yes,” Jason said, “you can.”

He reached forward and hugged the other man into his swelling arms.

 

“Shit.” Maddox watched the two figures embrace when the wall of monitors before him went dead. The sound of boots running in the hallway echoed around him in the darkened room and there were sounds at the door, sounds he was familiar with. They involved the setting of charges to gain entrance via detonation of plastic explosives.

He sucked in a long breath and began to disrobe.

It was going to be a long night.

 

Wolf reached behind his head and grabbed the hot barrel of the gun in his grip, squeezing it into a tight, mangled tube of steel. The bicep of his arm swelled with massive brawn, splitting through his sleeve. The spot on his head where the bullet struck him point-blank stung a bit. It might even be bleeding.

There was a sound like a whimper behind him.

Wolf shook his head and smiled. “Are you scared?” There was no answer, so he pivoted and rose to his feet, his body swelling as it turned. The buttons of his shirt shot across the room and ricocheted off the clean, white walls. The seams on the outside of his pants split, then ripped opened. His shoulders burst through his shirt and his shoes creaked and split.

The soldier was a Private. A young man, probably on duty at this late hour because of his inexperience. He was wearing something like riot gear. Dark, padded, probably armored. He wore a helmet on his head and there was a wet stain spreading at his crotch as he witnessed the man before him, whom he had just attempted to shoot through the skull, growing bigger by the second. “Don’t…” he murmured.

“Don’t what?” Wolf’s natural inflection made the question sound almost comical. He smiled as his face altered, changing in a matter of seconds from that of Terrance “Tank” Clay, a black-skinned African American with a broad, flat nose and dark, dark eyes into a pale-skinned, blond-haired giant of a man with piercing blue-gray eyes and a devilish smile. His naked form was quickly swelling out of his uniform, and the sound of ripping material was suddenly loud in the otherwise silent room. Folds of raw muscle, fat and firm with restrained force, bloomed from the expanding man’s body as his face coalesced into one of absolute masculine beauty.

The other man’s mouth fell open as he witnessed the transformation. All the training in the world couldn’t prepare him for what he was now witnessing first-hand. “Please...” he whimpered.

“If we’re going to get anywhere at all,” Wolf said, his voice a calm, low rumble, “you’re going to need to communicate more clearly.”

Wolf stretched to nine feet tall. Naked now, and gloriously so. His body was overwhelmed with raw, powerful muscle. Broads plates of it sat on his chest. Fat cables lined his limbs. Round, hard bulges popped across his belly. One of his twin cock spilled forth in abundant magnificence, arching out proudly over two fat, low-hanging balls. He was altogether hairless, his smooth, milky skin shining with evident health. He stood upright in the room and his growth and development slowed before he reached the ceiling overhead. He would need to move with speed and be as unencumbered as possible for what came next. Regaining his ultimate size just wouldn’t work out for this job.

Still, he was an imposing figure, towering over the smaller man like a colossus, covered in more raw brawn than any man the other had ever seen. “I would stay and chat,” he said, smiling, “but you don’t seem like much for conversation.”

“You’re not… you didn’t…”

“No, I’m not. No, I didn’t.” He tilted his head. “See, we’re the good guys. We don’t do things like that.” He winked. “Well, not anymore.” An eyebrow arched over one of his sparkling cloud-colored eyes. “Unless you want me to?”

The man held up his arms and backed away.

“I thought not.” He sighed, and made a show of placing his hand on his massive meat, rubbing the helmet with his thumb. “But if you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me. Just follow the sounds of destruction.”

Then Wolf fell to one knee, looked down at the floor, brought his right fist up and hammered it through the concrete.

 

The plastic explosives were very loud. The door was pulverized, exploded inward and torn open like aluminum foil. A phalanx of armored soldiers in bullet-proof gear pushed into the breach, weapons drawn and pointed into the room.

All they found was a small collection of torn and shredded clothing piled in one corner, and a very large hole in the middle of the floor that looked like someone had taken a very powerful, very accurate jackhammer to it. A single soldier, his smoking gun in one hand, its barrel compacted into a mangled mess, stood gawking at the hole in the floor as the urine stain spread across his groin.

There was no one else in the room at all.

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