Transform: New Blood 39
by AKA
Sherman Tipton had witnessed many, many odd things in his long life. He’d been directly responsible for many of them, and indirectly responsible for more he’d never know about. He’d ordered men into deadly situations he knew they probably would not be returning from. He’d seen men change physically before his eyes, until experiencing the effects of the same transformations first-hand.
Since then, when his life was as changed as his body had been, he’d experienced increasingly weird and wonderful incidents, mostly due to his completely altered physical body and capabilities. He told himself early on that he’d also been changed mentally and emotionally, that he couldn’t possibly be the same person inside as he had been, because there was no sane way that the old Major Sherman Tipton would ever allow, let alone do, the things he was doing.
But just as surely, he knew that was a lie. He was still the same man. Altered, certainly, and dramatically so, but he had lost none of his memories, or his feelings, or the intrinsic emotional core that defined who he was and had always been. Transform, he decided, changed several things about a man, but it didn’t change the man himself.
Sherman was still Sherman.
None of that, as important as it was, dawned on him as he stood naked in a small room deep in the bowels of Main Office watching as two men he knew only dimly began to do something completely beyond his comprehension. Maybe if Carlos was there, he could have explained it, or made sense of it, or even understood it. But as Sherman watched what transpired between Jason and Marshall, his brain could do nothing to make it fit into his world.
Because as Marshall’s muscle-bloated body fell into Jason’s youthful and loving embrace, the two men began to melt.
That was the closest word that described what he watched. He was frozen in place. He was mesmerized by shock. As the dust settled and the sounds of explosions began to rock the complex, Sherman watched two men combining into one.
And he could feel something in the room with them, something new and powerful, something the two men were pumping out like light and heat.
Scott Maddox sucked in a calming breath and turned around to face the armored door leading into the room where he stood, now naked and swelling larger with power and growing increasingly beautiful, morphing back into his natural state as a Transformed man.
The shit hadn’t merely hit the fan. It had overwhelmed it and transformed it. Shit was showering down upon them all, the shitstorm was hitting hard and full.
A powerful detonation shook the room. Maddox was unsure if the sensation was localized or wider. In spite of himself, he was grinning. Adrenalin pumped through his huge body, veins pumped hot blood into his muscles, and he had to calm his cocks from growing steel hard. He was excited and anxious, and he was severely turned on.
A deep, stark divot appeared in the metal door and he shrunk toward the floor, his muscular naked form poised for whatever was coming through. He’d pushed the button that would set off Operation Midnight, after Wolf had successfully bypassed the main conduits of the explosive network.
But he couldn’t get them all. And now Main Office was trying its damnedest to rip itself apart. And its inhabitants were doing their part to help it along.
Maddox couldn’t blame them. He’d been there. He drank the Kool-Aid, too, but had found a drink far more suited to his tastes. It only took a sip, really.
He was about to deliver a drowning gulp of it.
His body surged with Transform. He was swollen with its power. It tingled in his fingertips and throbbed in his muscles and pumped through his blood. It was growing uncontainable, and in moments he would unleash its furious power.
God, he felt good.
There was another sudden, deep concussion and the door exploded inward, bouncing off his indestructible body.
With a grin on his lips and a sudden rush of bliss, he released the beast.
Wolf emerged into a large room, dropping through the ceiling after pounding his way through six feet of concrete. His muscles sang with power. His body felt energized and overwhelmed with strength. His enormous body pulsed with restrained sexual energy, rechanneled from anger and violence into passion, desire and sexual need.
He felt, he realized, really fucking good.
His 8-foot, muscle-packed naked form fell into the room amidst a shower of broken fragments of concrete, dust and bent rebar. He sensed immediately that he was not alone. Straightening through the rubble, emerging like a god from the destruction of his birth, the ivory-skinned man scanned the room with ice blue eyes and a bright smile on his mouth. He folded his thickly muscled arms across his broad, heavy chest and tilted his head slightly, looking with amusement at the array of weapons pointed in his direction.
“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, in a voice both deep and beautiful. He nodded his head once in greeting. The ceiling was open above his head, and there were a dozen armed and armored soldiers arrayed around him.
Someone shouted “Fire at will!” and the dust-filled room suddenly lit up like the Fourth of July, the very air ablaze with the light of every gun in the vicinity shooting its armament toward the giant naked man standing so calmly at the center. There was noise and light and shouting and more destruction as the bullets careened around the space, ricocheting off the floor and walls and the man himself, as impervious to them as a wall of steel. Wolf arched an eyebrow and remained motionless as the barrage continued. It felt, to him, like being struck with pellets kicked up by a passing car. He was acutely aware of the strike of each bullet, but the sensation lasted only a moment and then it was gone. They struck him everywhere; his chest, his belly, his dick, his legs, his face, his arms, his hands and feet. Insect bites stinging his flesh, but leaving not even a mark of their passage behind.
The armored men slowly realized they were having little, if any, effect on the target. “Cease fire! Cease fire!” another shout rang out, and the din of gunfire and ricochets and destroyed concrete fell quiet again.
Wolf waved his hand about to clear the air. “Well,” he said, “that was fun. My turn, now?”
“Don’t…” someone said.
“Silence!”
“Please..”
“Silence, soldiers!”
Wolf shook his head slowly. “You really don’t comprehend at all, do you? What I am. What I can do." His words were again tinged with his unique and sexy Russian accent. "But that’s understandable. I hardly believe it myself.”
He scanned the faces around him, or what he could see of them through their gasmasks and armor. The fear in the room was palpable. They had placed so much of their strength and bravery in their guns, and now they saw how futile and worthless the weapons were. They had nothing left to fight with. “You don’t need to fight me,” he said softly. “I am not the enemy.”
Dusting off his gleaming alabaster skin, he strode toward the room’s exit as the soldiers cleared away from his approach. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, smiling. “I can’t.” He paused at the doorway and caressed his own ass with a slow pass of his hand. “But come and find me if you’re still interested in attacking this. I think you’ll find that licking ass is better than kicking ass any day of the week.” He winked and suddenly was gone, dashing along the hallway as quickly as his powerful legs could carry him.
If there was one man in the complex that could really fuck shit up, that man was Robbie Nelson. Robbie’s body was the first one to manifest the ability to physically interact with electronic signals and equipment, sending the throbbing sexual power of Transform in bits and bytes through copper and fiber optic cable in the same manner that speech and sound and images could be so easily digitized and transmitted. He had no idea how he was able to do it, or how it worked, or why – only that it was something he could do as easily as breathing, or sleeping, or touching another man and sending his body into convulsions of muscular and sexual development that would change him utterly and irreversibly.
The walls of Main Office started to shake. The floor rumbled. Cracks appeared in the plaster of the ceiling and floor revealing the shining stainless steel beneath it. They had carefully shielded his room. They knew his potential, and they fought to contain it. Maybe he wouldn’t become suddenly violent, but who knew how much damage the man could cause with access to just one thin unshielded copper wire? Networks connected to networks. Unimaginable miles of tangled cables leading everywhere.
In his small, empty room, so meticulously scrubbed of any technology that he might take advantage of, his eyes could discern the now-familiar glow of electrical power through the wounds in his walls. Main Office was nothing if not fully wired. Cables ran everywhere, delivering power and network connections and access to the entire system of computers, hard drives, mainframes, terminals and monitors that littered the place like flowers in a meadow.
Robbie tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. The thing about right angles and metal is that there has to be a stress point. No matter how thick the steel, it was connected to another piece. When tons of pressure began to shove against it from all sides, something had to give.
Robbie approached the creaking walls. The glow was faint but discernable. Creases appeared in the metal. Dust and debris were raining down on his glorious and powerful naked body. Muscle bulged hugely along every inch. Muscle that contained enough constrained power to lift whole Mack trucks and throw them, to crush them into balls of wrinkled metal, to toss them like basketballs. Muscle that was thick and hard enough to deflect bullets. Muscle that could allow Robbie to do almost anything he wanted to do.
But not one bit of that muscle was as powerful now as the raging beast of Transformation that came willingly to his fingertip as he pressed his hands against the walls and shoved the full, unadulterated might of the massive build-up of power inside him toward the soft electronic glow that his enhanced senses could perceive.
Mr. Peck was alone as the world around him started to disintegrate. He could feel as well as hear the complex dying. Its reinforced steel skeleton would halt some of the collapse, but not all of it. Steel would bend given enough force, and he knew that more than enough force existed in the few diseased and demented men he’d allowed into his sanctum sanctorum.
The corners of his office stayed in place. Dust settled on his desk, leaving a fine, white coating on his calendar and phone and the keyboard on which he began to type. His eyes watched the screen fill in with instructions and requests for data and passwords. Everything had been compromised. These wretched creatures were far more devious and, he admitted silently to himself, intelligent than he had given them credit for. Maybe all that ass fucking didn’t cloud their minds as much as he thought. The very idea disgusted him.
The sound of his typing was hidden under the concussive pounding and sharp, hard jolts that the edifice was experiencing as it tore itself apart. He locked down the exits. He closed off the exhaust ports. He shut down air intake and filtering. One by one, every escape route was closed off.
Just one more order to execute and his job, such as it was now, would be done. There was nothing more he could do. He shifted his eyes toward the dark, shiny metal of the barrel of the gun resting alongside his keyboard. The darkness was marred by the white dust falling so gently from above.
He looked at the screen and entered in the final code. He did not hit the Return key. Not yet.
The solution was secure. The solution was safe. Even if that atrocity in the holding cells several levels below him managed to infect the network with his disease and all that horror started pouring forth from monitors all around Main Office, turning good men into monsters, he was safe. The solution was secure.
Now all that was left was the waiting.
Sherman stood dumbfounded as he watched the continuing metamorphosis of two men into one. Jason embraced Marshall’s grotesquely bloated body in his own beautiful and perfect embrace, and Sherman could see the young man’s muscled arms sinking into Marshall’s body. He was being enveloped by the other man, melding with him. Their skin melted and coalesced, their muscles reached out like snaked and entwined with each other, it was happening at an accelerating pace and it was difficult, now, to tell where one man began and the other ended.
As they joined, or whatever it was they were doing, Sherman sensed massive amounts of Transform being released into the small room. He felt it in his flesh and muscle and bone, a palpable tingling combination of sex and muscle and masculine energy suffusing him like liquor in his bloodstream. Jason had to be exploding with Transform, or maybe it was the combination of the two men becoming one. It was impossible to say, because Sherman had no idea what was happening.
:: i love you ::
:: stop ::
:: i love you ::
:: stop please stop ::
:: no ::
:: please ::
:: i love you ::
Marshall didn’t want this to happen. He was consuming the man he loved. The man who was telling him that he loved him back. But it felt so good. It was amazing. The most intimate and powerful sharing that any human had ever experienced. More than sex, deeper than love, stronger than lust, he was becoming Jason, and Jason was becoming Marshall.
:: i love you ::
:: i love you too ::
:: open to me ::
:: i’m afraid ::
:: don’t be afraid ::
:: i love you ::
Love bathed him. Love surrounded him. Love swallowed him whole. He surrendered.
Something changed. The two men were no longer two men. Sherman watched the odd multi-limbed creature collapsed into a hard, bulging mass of flesh-colored something. Then the mass developed arms and legs and slowly, its body formed, the globes of a massive chest swelling outward, two dark nipples growing like ink stains, a darkness at its core coalescing into stiff curls of pubic fur that birthed two slim but quickly swelling pricks. A seam formed and split into two separate legs that grew wedges of power, distinct and massive.
Sherman watched the birth of a new being, made from two. Jason had saved Marshall by combining with him, cleansing him of what he had become through the power of Transform, and combining whatever he had inside him with Jason’s own overwhelming capacity for love and acceptance.
The head atop the body formed a face. Sherman watched blue eyes open and a nose poke through and a slit of a mouth form full, luscious lips covering rows of gorgeous white teeth. Hair sprouted from the scalp, a shadow at first that quickly developed into cascades of shining gold. The arms pulled themselves from the torso and were quickly overwhelmed with brawn, fat, hard biceps and huge horseshoe triceps. The new man flexed his hands as fingernails floated to the surface of his fingertips and suddenly, there he was, fully formed, gorgeous and perfect.
“Jason?” Sherman asked. “Marshall?”
“Yes,” he answered. “We are here.”
“Both of you?”
:: Yes :: The answer echoed inside Sherman’s brain, and he heard two distinct voices speaking the word. Yes, it said, we are both here.
“What happened?”
“He saved me,” the man said. “I love him.”
The new being was an amazing specimen to behold. The body was huge, perhaps because the mass of two men was now compacted into one. Muscles upon muscles. Muscles so massive they looked as if they were going to burst through his skin. His chest was huge and thick, like two chests mounted on one body. The size and mass of his legs echoed the size and mass of his torso and arms. Two fat balls, as big as oranges, hung in a tight sack between his legs, large enough that the two heavy, thick pricks arching over them, each crowned with a massive mushroom cap held in a tight cowl of foreskin, couldn’t entirely hide them.
He was tall, as well. Maybe nine feet high, maybe ten. Sherman couldn’t guess how big this dude would be when he really unleashed himself. “Are you all right?”
The man smiled broadly. His cocks throbbed and his muscles bulged. “I’m perfect.” His answer was saturated with The Voice, a sexual pulse of sound that would drive any ordinary man to his knees as his cock started shooting thick ropes of cream. The effect it had on Sherman was less intense, but certainly palpable. This was a new kind of Transformed man standing before him.
“Wow,” he answered, recovering from his swoon. “Do that again!”
The smile on the hulking man’s face increased. “Did you like that?” he asked. There was even more power this time. “Do you want more?”
Sherman’s twin beasts instantly swelled to erection and he shot fat floods of hot cum, overwhelmed by the other man’s powerful voice.
“I think we have twice the power of you,” he said. He bent his arm and watched the bicep swell larger and larger, rising high on his upper arm until it bumped up against his knuckles overhead. “Bigger, too,” he added.
“Holy fuck,” Sherman said quietly.
Robbie’s electronic infiltration passed into the wires and circuitry of the Main Office network and slid with light speed through its connections, finding every outlet it could and came forth in silent power, radiating out of every screen like heat.
Within his body, though his touch, Transform was translated into a code that could travel inside electric pulses, pulses that would be read and interpreted by the human brain, which would soak them in like a dream or a thought or a movement, the electric pulses that made the human machine run. It would re-code that machine, teach it new ways to survive and grow, manipulate its regulating powers and the everyday cellular construction, flood the human circuitry with new programming. Better programming. Vastly improved programming.
He didn’t know how it worked. He didn’t have to. Robbie merely shoved the enormous force within him, the muscular, sexual, powerful, unrelenting hunger that Transform had become into the soft glow of the electronic heart of Main Office and allowed it to push through the network until it found an outlet, any outlet, and flooded the rooms with its energy.
Anyone sitting before a computer screen felt the full effect like an immediate and overwhelming flash of blinding heat and light. Transform rushed forth from the screen like lightning, shoving its sparking tendrils of power into the skin and bones of its new recruits. They exploded with muscle, growing so quickly and so profoundly that their clothing ripped itself apart and they were thrown up and out of their chairs as their arms lengthened and bulged, their chests mounded up into vast globes of power, their legs shoved against each other as the muscle unfolded and their cocks plumped and hardened and shot thick ropes of hot cream that splattered across their naked bodies.
Everywhere their seed was thrown, more men grew. They never knew what hit them, and in seconds the rooms of Main Office were crowded with the bodies of huge, muscle-packed naked men, moaning and groping and kissing each other from sudden desire and lust. Muscle bulged everywhere, and their huge bodies shoved against the walls and doors to make more room for their gigantic powerful forms.
The complex groaned with objection, struggling to hold itself together.
Caleb, Clancy and Vital ran through the Canadian wilderness for hours without pause. The two Transformed men had enhanced bodies able to perform such impossible physical goals without complaint. Indeed, neither man, naked and thick with muscle, evidenced the slightest fatigue as they seemed to effortlessly traverse the wild undergrowth and towering trees, moving and shifting like wild animals born to the environment.
Vital, a young man at his physical peak, nonetheless struggled to keep up, much as he was loathe to admit it. His breath was labored, his muscles screamed for mercy, and his lungs burned from inside. Then suddenly, he stopped in a small copse of shrubs and saplings before collapsing to the mulch-covered earth, sucking the cold northern air inside his aching body.
Clancy, more attuned to their free captive, whistled a high, keening note to call Caleb back and the two muscular giants, each standing at least a half foot beyond Vital’s six feet, stood over his prone body. Neither man was even breathing hard. “Sorry,” Clancy said to Vital's helmeted face, his deep tone soft in the calm surroundings. “Should have tapered back – but I gotta admit it’s pretty damn hard not to push this body for all it can do.” He looked over at Caleb with a grin on his whiskered face, and his companion nodded energetically.
“Fuckin’ A! I feel even better than before, if that’s possible. Like… like all this energy just keeps my engines running, instead of tiring me out.”
“I expect it’s adrenaline. They probably pumped that into overdrive like everything else.” Clancy looked at Vital’s body. He looked inert. It was hard to tell how he was feeling with his features shrouded in that helmet. “You still with us?”
There was no answer from the smaller man, but he started to writhe and show definite signs of discomfort. Clancy placed his hand on the man’s chest and drew it back as if burned, looking quickly up at Caleb’s face. “Get his helmet off!”
“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked, concern evident in his voice. But he didn’t need a voiced answer, because with a suddenness that shocked him, Vital’s body began to swell everywhere.
“His helmet!” Clancy struggled to find a latch, but Caleb, acting out of shock or concern or both, stuck his hands under the chin plate of the shiny capsule covering Vital’s head and literally broke it apart, thrusting the two halves away into the darkness of the forest.
Vital’s revealed face had a look of amazement on its smooth Asian features, and something very like lust shone in his eyes. His face was altering before their eyes, growing distinctly more masculine and powerful. His brow strengthened and his jaw jutted. A sudden growth of whiskers appears around his full, dark lips and spread to his high cheeks and along the still developing jawline.
“He’s got it!” Caleb exclaimed. “What did you do?”
Clancy shook his head vehemently. “It wasn’t me! Jesus, look at his chest!”
Vital was growing quickly now. His uniform split itself wide down the axis of his body, the strong material tearing as his swelling muscles bloomed forth. His chest was enormous, and something equally huge was pushing very insistently at the crotch of his jumpsuit. Robbie's signal had reached out much farther than he could have guessed, through the satellites linking Vital's suit with Main Office's network.
“Help me get this off him,” Clancy said.
“With pleasure!”
The two Transformed men watched the sudden and surprising progress of the third man as the signal from Main Office that Robbie originated continued to grow another new Transformed man into muscular maturity.
Scott Maddox ran with the enormous speed and innate agility his Transformation allowed him. He dodged huge chunks of falling concrete and the swelling muscular bodies of other men pouring out of every room in the complex as he raced toward Mr. Peck’s office.
He had an expectation of what he would find when he got there. He’d had enough time to study Main Office schematics and the computer network and its security protocols to recognize that a vital piece was missing, and he had strong suspicions why that was.
The sounds of destruction all around him were enormous, as were the naked and muscular and gloriously beautiful men literally bulging out of every room and hallway. He had to take some detours and pound his way through walls and floors to work around some of the makeshift orgies and fuck sessions taking place everywhere as the men struggled to compensate for what their new bodies demanded of them.
Transform was unleashed now its purest and most powerful form. It was contained inside this facility with nowhere to escape or diffuse, so it saturated these new bodies in its power and pumped up their muscular and sexual and masculine drives beyond any man’s ability for control. They found each other and gloried in the flesh and muscle and sweat and sex that took possession of them with such hunger and passion. Walls meant nothing. The destruction that surrounded them meant nothing. There was only muscle, and cock, and ass, and mouth, and tongue, and lips, and hands, and sweat, and cum, and hair, and more where that came from.
His own body sang out to him for its own desires. Hands groped his ass, and he ached to surrender to them. Mouths on his cock. On his balls. On his asshole. Hands caressing his flesh, wanting him, needing him, but he had a job that needed doing, and he was far more in control of himself than any of these men. He let them explore each other, and he headed deeper and deeper into Main Office, to find its black heart.
“Hello, handsome.”
“I was wondering when you’d turn up.”
“I had some things to take care of.”
“I understand.”
Robbie looked at Wolf and felt his heart racing. The other man had literally torn his way through the steel walls to get to him.
His cocks plumped into erection and they tangled with his, writhing like snakes. Great drooling pools of precum poured from their four combined pricks and the scent of the men, and their sex and power, saturated the room. They were both continuously releasing great, thick, powerful but invisible clouds of Transform, and its nature of pure masculine sexual power drove both their volume meters up to 12.
Robbie allowed his eyes to follow every bulging mass of muscle, every curve of power, every massive cable of brawn and every naked, glorious, perfect facet of the other man’s body. They stood only inches apart. Wolf gave off heat from his exertions and he smelled like raw sex. “Fuck, you look good.”
“I taste even better,” Wolf answered, wiggling his eyebrows. His voice was low and powerful, but its tone and meaning were crystal clear. The room shook around them, but it was hard for either man to notice what the rest of the world was doing.
“I don’t suppose we have time to… y’know…”
Wolf pursed his lips and tilted his head. “I’m tempted.” He looked down Robbie’s collection of perfect masculine beauty and sighed. “I’m deeply tempted. But we should probably see about getting that fine ass of yours out of this place – along with a couple hundred other guys you’ve managed to introduce to our little club.”
Robbie looked up as a particularly loud thumping shook the ceiling concrete loose. “Did I do that?”
Wolf stepped forward and surrounded Robbie in his muscled arms, drawing him close and kissing his mouth with rough passion. Their tongues wrestled agreeably and they became momentarily lost in their mutual lust when the entire room seemed to shift as if struck by a fairly strong earthquake, bringing them both back to reality.
Robbie licked the taste of Wolf from his lips and smiled. “You’re right. You do taste even better.”
“Thanks.”
“After you,” Robbie said, motioning to the open doorway.
Wolf shook his head. “Onward and upward,” he responded, pointing at a hole in the ceiling, and they both launched themselves through it towards escape.
Sherman could feel a change in himself as he coupled with Jason/Marshall and welcomed them into the Brotherhood. Something about his whole body seemed slightly different. Not necessarily better or worse, just different. He was making love to two men in one body, and what they/he had said was true. They were bigger and better than a Transformed man. The combination of a Transformed man and whatever Marshall had become, or was becoming, created someone even more deeply sexual and powerful than anyone Sherman had encountered within the brotherhood. Being with him was a nearly overwhelming sexual experience. It felt, at times, that the usual mental connection that all Transformed men experienced had become physical as well, as if they shared not only the same mind but the same body, and their sexual coupling was more intense and more passionate as a result.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
Jason/Marshall smiled. “We should leave now.”
“But things are just getting good!” Sherman protested.
“They’ll get better,” Jason/Marshall hinted, and he kissed Sherman again. It was glorious and perfect. “But I will be needed.”
“You bet your fine ass you’re needed!” Sherman groped to pull them back into an embrace, but his partner gently pushed him away, a shining smile of absolute beauty on his chiseled features.
“No, something is going to happen.”
“What? When?”
Jason/Marshall closed his eyes. “Very soon.” He opened his eyes and said. “We must be ready.”
“Ready for what? Are you always going to be all enigmatic or will you eventually just answer questions?”
The dual-man smiled. “Probably both.” He took Sherman’s hand in his own and said, “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“To the heart.”
Vital stood up. He had been Transformed. He had been perfected. He was an enormous collection of muscular bulges, with dark skin and thick, fat pricks. He had a cascade of blue-black hair, straight and shining, hanging to his high, round ass. His lats spread out like wings, full and heavy and massive with brawn. His chest was round and thick, two impressive hemispheres of cabled muscle stretching forward like a shelf. A small, very dark nipple sat upon the lower edge of each heavy globe. What he lacked in vascularity he more than made up for in bulk, each muscle grown fat with rounded bellies of power. His sleek, muscular body was entirely hairless, save for a dark patch above his twin cocks that stretched up in a thin finger across his tight, muscled stomach to kiss his navel. His chin and cheeks carried a shadow of a beard, and his almond-shaped dark eyes glittered in the moonlight.
His change had taken only a few minutes. He had grown so quickly that his body had cleared a new glade for itself in the forest, and the rich smell of loam and pine mingled with the heady scent of his musk, thick and powerful on the calm winds.
He stood now examining his new body, luxuriating in the intensity of sensuous pleasure it delivered as he moved his warm, soft palms across its massive contours, and thrilling to the throbbing sensation of untapped muscular power he felt in his limbs and chest and shoulders. His asshole tingled with a hot sexual need, as if it sensed the men around him and hungered to be filled with their massive meat. His cocks were swollen and hot. His balls drooped heavily with a wealth of creamy cum. He gently rubbed his thumb across the nub of his right nipple and his cocks jumped like frisky puppies, eager for play. Thick silvery strings of precum drooled from each piss slit and coated his legs in shining veins.
“Damn, son," Clancy said, “You look good enough to eat!”
Caleb nodded his agreement. The three men stood in the space of Vital’s transformation as tall as the trees around them. They all felt the strong and unyielding pull of sexual satisfaction toward each other.
Vital looked at the other two men and smiled, grabbing one of his enormous cocks in each hand and stroking them to hardness. “Let’s fuck.”
“Good evening, Mr. Maddox.”
“Good evening, Mr. Peck.”
“Prepared as always,” Maddox observed, looking at the man seated behind the desk. Peck’s office was much less damaged than anywhere Scott had visited on his journey here. It was what he expected. In fact, almost everything he was looking at now was what he had expected.
Peck wore a kind of stasis suit that protected him from the outside elements, as if he were prepared to emerge from the security of a capsule into the vacuum of space. He was utterly protected from the effects of Transform, which by now had entirely saturated the entire subterranean structure. Anyone capable of being Transformed had been.
The sounds of the men enjoying each other echoed through the hallways and gaping holes of Main Office. Shouts and groans and whispers of bliss and sexual entreaties were like white noise. Main Office settled and collapsed in equal measure, fighting to retain its structure as the gigantic and powerful bodies of its all-male corps shoved against it for space. Legs pushed through walls. Shoulders shoved aside ceilings. Arms broke down doors and broke through floors. The thrusting bodies of super-powered men engaged in multiple and un-ending manner of sexual positions and actions tested the building’s capacity to remain intact.
“Not quite, it would seem,” Mr. Peck responded. “One can foresee most things in a project such as this, but not everything.”
“Nice suit,” Maddox said. He folded his arms across his massive chest and added, “I can tear you out of that, you know.”
“I know,” Peck answered simply. “But you won’t.”
“And why won’t I?”
“Because you’re not dumb, Mr. Maddox. You have never been dumb. And you will have suspected by this point that I have more than one trick up my sleeve.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“And you’d be correct, Mr. Maddox. Though I only have one trick left to me, thanks to you.”
“This is more your fault than mine, Peck. This is entirely your fault, actually.”
“Mine? You’re being absurd.”
“All you had to do was leave us alone. We’re no threat to you or anyone. We…”
“No threat? You’re an unbelievable threat to the very survival of human kind. Your disease prevents you from seeing that. You can’t understand the threat you pose to this planet’s survival.”
“Propaganda.”
“You still don’t realize what you are. Is that possible? I suppose it must be. You think that Dr. Martinez or Dr. Lassiter – or even Major Sherman Tipton – you think having their knowledge on your side means you know everything. You… understand yourselves. And the nature of what you’ve become. What you’re becoming.”
“I suppose you’re not going to enlighten us, either.”
“It would be too cruel, even for me.”
“Your definition of cruelty is a bit too skewed, Peck, to make anything you say believable. You sit there in your sad little plastic suit, protecting yourself from something you don’t even begin to understand, though you pretend you do. Or you think you do. But being Transformed… it’s not what you think it is.”
“Is it your turn to enlighten me, Mr. Maddox?”
“No, I won’t even attempt it. You’ve already shown what you are in your actions here. You’re not above anything to reach your goals, and there’s nothing I could say that would change that.”
“I agree that it’s highly unlikely.”
“But there is something I could do.”
“Transform me, no doubt? Touch me with your magic fingers? Breathe your filth into my lungs? Pass your abhorrent disease to me, and make me another victim of this plague?”
“Well, I’d put it into different words, but…”
“No, Mr. Maddox. I cannot allow that. It may be too late for me or my men, you’ve seen to that. But this contagion will not spread further, and I will not subject the officers under my command to further indignities. I may not be able to kill all of you and end the spread of your disease, but I can do this.”
Peck moved first. His right hand had been resting on his keyboard, and it was a simple small action to execute the final order in the system. With his left hand, he lifted the revolver to his temple and fired a single bullet into his brain.
He was dead before Maddox reached the desk. A flashing red light from the computer monitor was lending the scene a lurid glow, even as Peck’s dark blood flowed out of the hole in his skull and filled the plastic cylinder over his head until his sunken features and staring eyes were blotted out.
Sherman and Jason/Marshall stopped as the edifice suddenly experienced a single, hard, shaking jolt. Sherman was sure an explosion had occurred, or several all at once. The sound was deafening and the two had difficulty maintaining their balance.
“We’re out of time,” his companion said. Their eyes met, and Sherman felt a chill pass through him. “You have to help me.”
“Help you what?”
“Release yourself. Release us. Release it all.” A sudden and intense heat pressed itself against Sherman’s naked flesh. His body responded in kind, yielding to the other man’s unvoiced expression of power and capability, growing hotter and hotter. He felt the other man’s body against his own. He felt the heat and power of it.
He felt it melting into his own.
He heard three words in his head before blackness hit him.
::I love you::