As a reporter for a major Gay publication on the physique beat, Randy had experienced the thrill of interviewing some of the hottest guys on the bodybuilding scene. He had been especially excited when he got this assignment. The editors told him that a guy who was into bodybuilding himself, like him, would be the obvious choice for this one, that the guys would relate to him, but Randy felt inadequate because, even though most people thought he was pretty much a muscular hunk, he always felt puny next to these guys. He worked hard at building himself up, and he was pleased when some of the big guys noticed that he was bulking up. But nothing like them. And then he got the assignment of his life, the one that would take him, though he didn't know it yet, beyond his own wildest fantasies.
There had recently come onto the scene several guys who had become known as the "New Supermen," and they were each one more huge than the last, massive, beautifully hairy, and hung with equipment so large it bordered on the absurd, except that it was so erotic and sexy that no one minded how impractical it might be to have such a huge cock and balls. Then it became publically known that these guys were the result of an incredible, computer controlled morphing process that somehow altered the genetic programming through the blood and caused the body to change itself to match the pattern that the computer had imprinted. Randy had been told that he was to meet the men who controlled the experiment, find out just how it worked and report on it.
He could barely contain himself when, at their invitation, he showed up at the lab where they did their "magic." There were several guys there when he arrived, and most of them were guys he had seen in some of the New Supermen movies and magazine layouts. All of them were dressed in the smallest, briefest posing bikinis he had ever seen, or maybe they just looked so small, he thought, because the guys in them were so huge. Their crotches bulged as though they had stuffed them, but he could see by the outlines of cocks and balls that it was all their own flesh. They walked around the room, or up to him to meet him, and their gigantic legs rolled around each other as they walked, their arms, so thick and massive that it seemed impossible, swung at their sides, propped out at exaggerated angles by the extreme mass and width of their backs and their pecs, which were also huge, distended, hard, immensely round and piled up on their chests and bulging way out to the sides. All of them had body hair more or less like Alec Baldwin's, which Randy had always thought was incredibly sexy, covering their pecs in dark, silky swirls up to their throats and plunging in dark lines all the way down over the thick ridges of their hard, hairy abs, joining with their pubic hair. And even though they all had on those tiny bikinis, their thick, dark pubic hair extended over the tops of them and all around their groins, out onto their upper thighs. It looked unbelievably hot to Randy, the way the bikinis bulged with their loads of masculity so impossibly enormous, so meaty and thick and heavy that the load pulled down the fronts, appearing as though there was just enough fabric to cover it all, the material smooth and shiny and stretched so thin that every curve and line of their balls and their cocks, the rims of their cockheads, even the veins were clearly outlined, highlighted by the surrounding dark gathering of body hair. It had looked sexy to him in the shots he had seen before, but nothing like seeing it in person, being in the presence of these guys who were, until now, in the realm of pure fantasy.
He had to admit, like most of the public, which was going wild over these guys, he experienced something primal when he saw their exaggerated forms and their amazingly heightened masculinty. He got hard. He was into bodybuilding because he liked being muscular, and would even like to get himself pretty big and bulked up. But to be like one of these guys, he told himself, would be wierd. You couldn't wear normal clothes. Anything you could wear would totally show how huge you were, always a kind of monster on display. You wouldn't even be able to be subtle about your basket. He couldn't imagine walking around town or in the mall like they all would have to. Even an extra-extra-large T-shirt would fit like it was painted on, the sleeves would barely reach over your shoulders, and it would be so stretched that it would barely come down to your waist, exposing the hair on your stomach. No, it would be wierd. But he had a hard-on when he thought about it.
Now he was in this room with them, and their size and everything about them seemed bigger, more intensely erotic and masculine. He knew he must have seemed in awe when he met the two of them who were, he was told, the inventors of the process, and was introduced to the others. He felt an unexpected excitement, a physical arousal. His heart beat fast as he tried to remain cool, but he could also feel that he was going to have to deal with a hard-on, and hoped he could hide it.
They showed him the machine. It looked like something from a Star Trek episode. There was a big leather chair with machinery on both sides, clear plastic tubing, and a large screen in front of the chair, sitting on more electronic gear. The chair itself was like a recliner that had been pushed all the way back and then stood up. You didn't sit in it, you sat )or leaned) against it, supported by it, but nearly standing. There appeared to be a couple of EEG wires at the head.
They said how they were sure it must look strange, and even too simple for what it is capable of doing, but that it could do even more amazing things than they had yet shown. Randy agreed, and asked how it worked. At this point, he felt like this assignment must be part of a dream he was having, because they told him that they were very glad for this opportunity to explain it to the public, but that he would only be able to really explain it if he experienced it himself.
He practically heard ringing in his ears, he was so taken aback, and their voices semed, for a moment, like they retreated way into the background.
Experience it! Experience it! No, he was not ready for that. He would love to have a few intimate hours with any of these guys, but experience it! He said he didn't know about that, but they said, well, if you want the story, and you want to do it right. Maybe, he said, but do you mean to do the same thing to me that they all did? And if I did, is it reversable? They told him that they would discuss the possibility of reversing it if, when he had done it, he didn't like the way he felt and looked.
His heart was racing. If they could undo it, he knew it would be an unbelievable thing to experience, to see what it felt like. He realized that everything about those guys he loved and would love to have himself--the muscles, the body hair, the big meat. But they just had so much more of it than was normal. He wanted to be hot, but he always wanted to be normal.
When he agreed, they began to explain as they led him through the steps, showed him what to do. First, they told him, they needed him to get undressed so he could watch, and so they could, too. They told him they never get tired of watching another guy go through it, that watching a guy go through this process was as hot as sex. Randy hesitated, for a minute, but they said come on, get them off. So he stripped. He felt more naked than he ever had in his life. And he felt kind of puny. There were mirrors all around the machine, so when he stepped up to the chair, he could see himself from head to toe from several angles. It was still like a dream, and he felt like he was dreamwalking. He leaned back against the chair and they put up a couple armrests for his forearms. They explained that this computer would read his impulses and responses to the stimuli that would appear on the screen as they stuck the electrodes on his temples and taped a couple of sensors on his fingertips. Then they explained that they would have to attach the tubing he had seen intravenously.
Then they said the first part will be a series of images that were specifically designed to read your deepest seated fantasies about maleness, sexuality, and the body. The tubing will be acting as a detour, running your blood through the processor. It reads your genetic coding down to the smallest detail as your blood goes through. As you respond to the images, the computer will read your responses and use them to create a picture, a blueprint, of what your fantasy would look like. At this point, the computer will have begun altering your own genetic blueprint through your blood. When we have completed running all the images for you, the computer will then put up on the screen a composite picture of your fantasy of yourself.
Then it will be our turn to use your projection and work some of our own fantasies on it. This keyboard can manipulate your image on the screen, and we use it to turn your fantasy into our own, our newest New Superman.
As we manipulate the image, the computer instantly alters your genetic map to match the picture. Even as you see it on the screen, your blood is carrying the signals to your DNA. You'll see that this alteration is so effective it can make your body do anything, including producing more muscle fiber, changing your bone structure. And it also effects your psyche as strongly as it effects your body, but that's why you have to experience it to write about it. It's about how it feels to undergo the change, how it makes you feel as much as how it makes you look. That's why it makes a guy so hot and why he turns everyone on so much.
Randy winced as they hit his veins. He had half a hard-on. How long does it take? he asked. They said that the first part took about ten minutes; then they would look at the image he had created and it would only take a couple more minutes to put the finishing touches on. Then they key the computer to start the morphing process, to signal your cells to follow their new direction. This is the really fun part, they tell him. You'll feel a powerful rush as your whole body reacts at once to this new blueprint. You'll probably feel like you are plugged in to a lightening bolt. It burns some when your muscles start to grow more fiber and swell up inside your skin. It feels kind of itchy and tingly when the body hair starts sprouting and growing in, and it feels like pure erotic pleasure as your genitals respond and grow. The whole morphing process itself takes about half an hour, give or take a few minutes, each guy is a little different.
So. Ready? Randy gulped. Wait a minute he said, and then he looked at himself in the mirrors, looked at the other guys, and thought, wait for what? Why the fuck shouldn't he? It was for his career, after all, and it would be a major story.
Okay, go ahead.
Images started flashing on the screen in front of him, each one only staying for about five seconds. They were all pictures of men and parts of men. They showed all different kinds of body hair, all different kinds of faces, of muscles, of bodies, guys posing, drawings of huge musclemen with gigantic cocks and balls, men having sex of every variety, then more muscles, closeups of giant pecs, massive arms, pictures of the New Supermen with completely unbelievable hard-ons. Unbelievable, but there they were.
Randy cound feel himself allowing himself more and more to relax. The pictures were extremely hot and erotic. He could feel his cock getting hard as soon as they started, and especially when they showed the guys with the biggest bodies. He looked at the shots of hairy chests, hairy stomachs, hairy arms and legs, hairy groins. It was definitely turning him on, and it would definitely be hot to see how it felt. Yeah, he thought, yeah, okay, this is a good thing to do for my job. He became more and more aware of his reactions to some of the drawings as they kept getting more outrageous, bigger muscles, bigger cocks, bigger balls. At first he had thought how impossible, almost ridiculous they looked, but they began to look hotter and hotter to him, too. Then, suddenly, the pictures stopped.
If I'm not mistaken, one of them said, watching you just then, your fantasy of yourself is going to amaze you. You were really getting into this. But then everyone does.
A picture of him appeared on the screen that made him laugh nervously. He felt embarrassed to see, in front of these guys, his most erotic fantasy of himself right up there. Unbelievable. He couldn't imagine that it had come out of him. The image on the screen had his face, although somewhat handsomer and more carved with a darker, perfectly shaped five o'clock shadow. Great hair, thicker, darker, lustrous. But the rest. . . He was looking at the body of a bodybuilder that would definitely take every title in the world. It was a gorgeous body with large, generous pecs mounded on his chest, arms at least as big as Eddie Robinson's, legs like Paul DeMayo's. The image rotated, and he saw a big, round bubble butt, huge, wide shoulders, a back so wide it looked like bat wings. He was covered with Alec Baldwin body hair, except he knew that Alec couldn't have as hairy a groin as this picture. And The cock and balls that hung at his groin were as big and thick and heavy looking as anything he had ever imagined, let alone on him. His erection was bouncing, jerking in spasms of erotic excitement.
But the two running the show said, okay, guy, here's the fun part. Due to the reason you are doing this, we've decided to take you to a level of development a noticeable step ahead of anyone else we've morphed. And they started whispering to each other and punching codes into the keyboard. Little by little the image changed. Randy watched the muscles on the image of him on the screen start to swell and grow. They stayed in proportion to his original image, but they become more and more massive, his chest thickening, widening, his back spreading like the hood of a cobra, the arms like boulders, lifting higher away from his sides, his legs thickening so the image kept showing a wider stance to accommodate the legs. The cock and balls also grew enormous before his eyes. The cock in the picture was soft and must be fourteen inches long. It was at least several inches longer that any of the guys here. And so thick. The head looked as big as his fist. and the balls hung almost as long as the cock and were bigger than his fist for sure. He laughed. He said your aren't really going to that, are you? I could never get those in one of your bikinis. But they said, once he saw it on the screen, it was a done deal, already in his blood and his cells.
What do you think, they asked, you think that'll do it? Jesus, you've got to be kidding, he said, and he felt like he would explode from the combination of fear and excitement. Then one ot the other guys in the room said, hell, if you're going to make him that big in the crotch, don't you think he could use just a little more mass to balance it out? Oh, come on you guys. You've got to be kidding! But the keys were punched and the image grew again. He looked like a human bull. The hair filled in, also in proportion. The masculinity of the image was definitely in the new superman category, and definitely a step beyond what had been done before. What could that feel like? He'd have to go back, but it would have to be way beyond incredible.
He tried to imagine that in half an hour, he could look like that, be inside the skin of that body. Ready? The same voice said, wait a minute.
If you're doing it, do it. Just a little more. His muscles? Shit, the whole thing. Like this? And they did the keyboard again, and everything about the image grew again. It was a monster of pure, sexual, totally erotic masculinity, maleness to the tenth degree. Randy was light-headed when he heard the okay, go. One more set of codes, and they said to him, now you just have to enjoy the ride.
Randy felt what they had said, a rush, a lightening bolt. He could almost scream. It was intense beyond belief, and he could soon feel it in every cell, deep inside, in his skin, his muscles, his cock and balls. Oh my god. And it did feel unbelievably erotic, an extremely sexual feeling.
And it did feel good. So Good. Like a euphoria much stronger than any drug. Like mega-doses of crystal and ecstacy together. He wanted to touch himself, but the equipment he was attached to kept him from doing it. But he could see himself in the mirror. It was so intense that he felt like it was happening to someone else, or like an out of body experience. But he was very much in his body. Every muscle was on fire from a deep internal pressure. He could literally feel them growing, filling his skin with their extra fibers, gaining weight and mass. He could begin to feel the weight he was gaining, how heavy he was beginning to feel, and it made him feel more alive with a new and growing sense of his own maleness. Bigger did feel more masculine. He liked feeling the weight. He could feel the itching and tingling as hair sprouted where he had none, grew in, got thicker, spread over his chest, his abs, and his groin. God, it was really happening. His crotch was getting thickly covered with dense, dark hair that spread out over his groin area. The really hairy part, the pubic hair, covered twice as much of his groin as it had before, and then it thinned out somewhat as it spread onto his upper thighs and up his abdomen. His abs were becoming huge, hard ridges of muscle, and the hair line down the middle of them grew in and got thicker and more definite, and then thinned some, like the pubic hair, and spread over his whole abdomen. His chest was growing bigger and bigger, and he found that he loved the way his pecs felt as they got thicker and heavier, bigger in shape and size. They bigger they became, the hairier they got. He loved that, too. The more weight he felt himself gaining, the more he loved the feeling of his mass. His butt was becoming huge and he could feel its hard, round mass lifting his hips right up off the table. Yeah. Feels good. Real good. He reached the point where he could see in the mirror that he was as big as the major pro bodybuilders.
He was so hairy and so big. As big as he'd ever imagined being. His cock and balls were enormous now, heavy and thick, and that felt like pure sexual delight. He was falling in love with the sight and idea and feeling of growing really gigantic genitals. He was falling in love with the feel of the gigantic muscles that were bulging, hard and thick, all over him. The bigger they got, the more hot and sexual, the more intensely male and purely erotic they felt.
Now he understood why he had to do it. At this point, any fear, any hesitation he had felt was gone. He looked at his image and at the image on the screen. He was going to get that big. Now the idea possessed him, obsessed him. Nothing could be hotter. Nothing could feel sexier. He was becoming more and more erotic. He watched his genitals continue to grow, and he loved having them so big and getting bigger. Couldn't wait to feel them fully grown, like the picture. He loved the muscle as it got so thick and hugely massive that it felt like pure, raw sex to have such huge muscle. He felt them grow more and more, saw when he was as big as the other new supermen, and felt complete elation that he was going to get bigger still. Yeah. The biggest guy yet. And the hottest. Heavier.
Hairier. Thick and thick and thick he became until he saw that he had in fact become like the human bull on the screen.
He knew when he had reached that point, and he could feel the process slow and stop. As the rush of morphing sensations subsided, he came more and more back to feeling like he was in present reality. Only the dream didn't go away. He was a freak, a monster, and he could see, and god knows he could feel in every cell, he was the the most intensely sexy, sexual, erotic speciman of a human male that had ever walked the earth.
He knew that. He could feel that he totally projected that, just standing there. God, he loved feeling like this.
They unhooked him. As soon as he was free of the machine, he had to flex for the mirror, feel his muscles move, bulge. His cock, which had been fourteen inches of thick soft meat in the image was hard as a steel shaft and measured a full two feet long. Twenty-four inches of thick, heavy cock, which he immediately, for them all, stroked to the most intense ejaculation he had ever had. Then the other guys were all over him, touching him, worshipping him.
He said he had to see how he looked in one of their bikinis, if he could fit himself in. . . Just barely, and they gave him an extra roomy one.
He strutted to feel that monster load as he walked. He was like a porn illustration, and he loved all of it.
So, they said, about returning you to the way you were. You did want to go back, didn't you say? Randy looked at his magnificence in the mirrors, felt his beautiful, bulging mass, looked at all his gorgeous, sexy body hair, the outrageous groin that appeared to be the center of it all. Go back? Did he have to? Well, that would be up to him, but if he didn't and stayed this way, he could still write the story and use himself as his own illustration.
Yeah, that sounded like a good possibility. A real good idea. And, since, if he did stay that way, he would be the newest, best New Superman, and he could certainly make a lot more money trading on what he had become.
Randy did turn in the story, complete with before and after pictures. It was a sensation. But after that, the only writing he did was for the movies they made together, all those New Supermen. He wrote stories as erotic as the men who were making them. But he was the biggest star. It could be said that he was the one who really started the trend . If it became a new era for men and their physiques, Randy could be credited for bringing it into the mainstream, or almost the mainstream of the male movement.