Chris wakes up in a strange laboratory, only to learn he’s one of a number of subjects in a mysterious program that involves alterations to the male human body. At least the guy they have looking after him seems sympathetic… and very, very sexy.
When my eyes opened, I discovered several things in rapid succession.
First, I still couldn’t move my head, or anything else. But I could see, and blink my eyes. I seemed to be in some sort of industrial or medical space; grey walls and tile, neutral metal cabinets—though admittedly my field of vision was pretty limited without the ability to move my head.
Second, the lighting looked odd to me; the colors were washed out and grey-ish and while I was able to focus well, it was like I could see the thing I was looking at really well, but stuff around it not so much. I chalked that up to a lingering effect of whatever had rendered me temporarily blind, at first, but then as I cast my gaze around as best I could, I realized that I couldn’t identify the light source. It wasn’t that bright in here, but yet I could see pretty well, In fact, the only light source I could make out seemed to come from what I guessed was an observation window off to my left. I didn’t recall having decent night vision before, but maybe it was just that I rarely needed it.
Third, I could hear a variety of things pretty well: the hum of some sort of appliance, the faint noises of people talking or something elsewhere in the area, possibly down a connected hall.
Fourth, I could smell… something. Several somethings. Something soapy and clinical, maybe the chemicals they used to clean the place? Another scent seemed like my own, the smell of sheets or underwear that needed washing. And fainter, a third scent, similar to mine, but murkier somehow.
Fifth… well, fifth was troubling. Because I felt so many pinpricks of discomfort against my skin. I just couldn’t figure out what the heck it was. But whatever that was, it seemed worse around my ankles and wrists, so that was probably cuffs or restraints or something. Something similar was around my neck holding me firmly in place.
Sixth, I found it hard to deduce my orientation at first; my internal gyroscope was off. But once I was able to spot the shape of the cabinets, I realized that I was probably in some sort of semi-vertical restraint, like a hospital bed partly elevated.
I was just processing all of that when I heard a noise nearby, off to my left. It was someone approaching—heavy footfalls, and the sound of something sloshing in a bucket, at first. I heard the sound of keypad being tapped and some sort of electronic bloop before a clanking sound released the lock on a door.
“Hey,” Marco softly whispered. “I’m here to check on you. Are your eyes open?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled.
“Then be prepared to close ’em, I’m turning on the lights.”
“I can see fine,” I said. “The light is bright enough.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s great for you, but I need to see to tend to you, and I need more than the exit sign to see by. Three….two….one…”
Aaaah! Everything went white and the afterimage stayed in my retina for a moment, even though I’d instinctively shut my eyes as tightly as I could the moment he had said “one”. As bright stars swam in my mind’s eye, I heard him set the bucket down behind me, and chuckle again.
“So. You could see well enough by that light, huh?”
“Yeah,” I blinked cautiously. My eyes quickly adjusted.
“You okay now?”
“Yeah, I think so.” I peered at the cabinet ahead of me, trimmed in grey Formica, I thought. “I can see okay again.”
“Hmm. Could be light sensitivity from being under, or maybe you can just see really well in the dim light. Guess they’ll figure that out soon enough. Well, buddy, you ready?”
Stepping into my field of vision was a very large, very athletic man with light caramel skin, poofy dreadlocks, a friendly, lopsided grin and the sort of muscular development you’d see on Olympic athletes. He wasn’t wearing much and from what I could see, what he wore barely fit. A white camp shirt from which heavily muscled arms erupted; below, I couldn’t quite see but had the sense of something similar.
“Remember, Marco? From the other day?”
“The other day?”
“Hey, are you okay? Because if you’re forgetting stuff that’s not a great sign…”
“No, I remember talking to you, but had no idea how long that was…”
“Yeah, the days can get confusing in here. Either you get used to it or you don’t, I guess.”
“Can you let me out?”
“Oh!” He sputtered, surprised. “Hon, no. Not yet, not until you’re done.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Oh, nothing sinister, bro. But you’re not finished yet and it wouldn’t be safe.”
“I can’t say for sure what you’ll be like when all this finishes with you, but I didn’t look like this when I got here. And I went through this like, I dunno, twenty guys ago? Hard to remember with certainty.”
“What are they doing?”
“It’s some kind of experiment. I’m just here to wash you down, for now. And I guess make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m strapped to a table being experimented on while a hot guy stands nearby, worried…” I said sarcastically. “So, you know, great.”
“Well, at least part of you is awake and your snarky brain isn’t damaged too much. Now I’m going to scrub you down. Just let me know if there’s anyplace you need more or less pressure,” he said, soothingly.
The fact I could not move was okay, because Marco’s gentle attentiveness and the soothingly warm, soapy water allowed me to relax as he washed me. It’s a sensation you don’t often experience, being washed by someone else, in our modern world, not as an adult. It seemed intimate somehow, and his curious smile was warm and friendly.
“That feel okay?” he asked.
“Feels great,” I replied truthfully. He scrubbed my scalp and poured water over my skull, and I shivered as it ran down behind my neck.
“Sorry I can’t unhook you, but rules are rules for a reason. Had to learn that the hard way.”
“Yeah. One reason they have me doing this rather than the lab guys. They stay away while you’re awake, in case you get… grumpy.”
“Sure doesn’t feel like I am a threat right now.” I was snarky about it, I guess, but I was also trying to not think about how sensual it felt. His hands were large, and warm, and soft, but had strength in them. Long fingers gripped the loofah, while his other hand undid something behind me.
“What are you doing back there?”
“Some of the frame here is on a hinge. You should be supported well enough to give me access, but let me get you upright so you don’t have as much strain.”
He clicked a button and I slowly moved from the roughly 45-degree angle I’d been at to a more upright one, and I felt the weight shift to my legs and feet. Then my arms spread as the mechanism moved forward, and the support behind my back was suddenly gone. A breeze flickered through and tickled the hairs on my back and butt, distracting me from the boring view of an industrial room. It was no more interesting than it had been in the dark.
“Were you always this hairy?”
“Not particularly?” The question puzzled me, until he brought the loofah in and scrubbed my back, and my lower back, and my butt. Suddenly all those itchy pinpricks made sense.
“Well, I got news for ya, you are now!” He felt fantastic as he scrubbed all around, then moved to the front to scrub there. With my neck still fixed and immobile, I couldn’t see anything but his missing face as he worked. I could smell him though, a pleasantly male scent, similar to but different from my own.
“Nice abs,” he remarked, and I flexed instinctively. “Nicer. Guessing they weren’t quite so pronounced and hairy before, though.”
“I’m not really hairy,” I said, shyly. “At least I wasn’t.”
“Yeah, betting you weren’t quite so bulky before either. Still, it looks good on you,” he said.
“What the hell is all this? You gotta know something. And you said there were mirrors.”
He frowned and stopped washing me for a moment.
“I’ve been wondering about that. They haven’t faced you in the direction of that wall, but they haven’t told me not to say anything. But maybe it’s… maybe they’ve got something more extreme going on with you and don’t want to show you just yet. Hell, maybe this is a test for me and my judgment.”
“Please,” I said.
“Look, the treatment is different for everyone. They won’t tell me why, or how it works, but I’ve seen guys go through all sorts of changes. I was a fat middle aged computer guy before. I sure didn’t look like this. Whatever they give us, it seems to make us better, but they’ve put like forty or fifty guys through this and a lot of them…well, they don’t turn out so great. “
“Is this some kind of Captain America shit?”
“Probably? But whatever they’re doing, it doesn’t stop, and they don’t seem to be trying to hurt anyone. Not on purpose. Doesn’t seem cruel or anything, just… unpredictable.”
“Okay… what do you mean by ‘more extreme’?”
“Oh. Well… I don’t really want to scare you.”
“Seriously? Too late, man. What do you mean?”
He began scrubbing again, his pretty face deep in thought.
“I mean, some of the guys didn’t turn out quite… human. One dude got real, real big. Like put on a hundred pounds of muscle in a few days. Another guy lost his thumbs. They just atrophied and fell off while his other fingers got bigger. Tyler, my friend, he got… I dunno, more animalistic. Feral or primitive or something. Fair warning, I got a taste of that too, so if my Adrenalin spikes, I kind of hulk out a bit. Road rage, or something. So if you wind up a little furry, don’t be too shocked. You might have got off easy.”
His fingers brushed my nipples as he continued to scrub me, and an electric thrill ran down directly to my cock.
I couldn’t think for a moment, as the innocent brushing of my nipple caused my libido to spike, and all the blood seemed to rush elsewhere. I felt horny and lightheaded, like the one time I’d tried poppers.
“Uh, sorry, Chris,” he said. “Whoa. That did not look that big before.”
He backed away, and I continued to feel the blood rush to the center of my body. I desperately wanted to look down, because it felt like I was getting the king of the hard ons.
“Marco… please… what…”
“Dude, I wish you could see it,” he said, partly in awe. “Some of the guys got big down there, but you seem to have hit the jackpot. There’s probably a lot of masculine hormones in whatever they give us, but… well, you gotta be a foot long soft, man. Big handful of balls, so much hair…”
I could see Marco’s reaction, but I still couldn’t move to look myself. His face mixed awe and surprise and… arousal? I realized I could see fat hard nipples on his crisp white polo. Or maybe it was all in my head, since nothing but sex seemed accessible to my brain just then. He smelled really good suddenly.
“Fuck, it’s getting hard now… dude, I wish you could see this. You got a seriously big dick. I’m guessing you weren’t porn star hung before… Fuck,” he said, shucking his shirt and shoving his hand down his own pants. “It smells like you in here, that musky ball scent… you gotta be kicking out some kind of pheromone or something. Your horny is contagious!”
“I can’t help it,” I said hungrily. “Can you help me? I feel funny, and it kind of hurts…”
“I’m not surprised. Your blood pressure readings are all red on that machine,” he said. “Fuck, that’s unreal, it must be like 14, 15 inches long….”
“No fucking way, I’m like 7 inches max.” I grunted, a moaning guttural growl, as the sensation grew to be too much.
“Maybe before. I told you they changed you.” He approached me gingerly. “Do you… want me to try to help relieve you?”
“Oh man, please…” my mouth said before I could stop it. I’d never been with a guy before! I mean, not like this, just mutual jerking off with a college roommate.
His touch on my dick was bliss. Big warm hands and long fingers caressed the long veiny sides of my cock, and I shivered with delight. I was moaning like a porno whore, but I couldn’t stop.
I felt an odd sensation, like I was pissing, but not the same… and then I realized I was leaking pre like a faucet, dousing myself and his hand in a spurt of clear, musky fluid. I could smell it, and I could smell his reaction to it, as his own body responded.
Marco barely looked at me as he planted his face over my cock head and began to lap up the stuff, letting the overflow lubricate my massive cock as he vigorously pumped me. His to the danced around my glans, teasing still more out of me, and then he dove forward to deep throat me.
Deep throating my normal old cock, at 7 inches and a little girthy, was tricky, I’d been told, but this was at least twice as much cock to handle. Marco took to it like he’d been training for years to swallow cock, and I was powerless against it. I strained to hold it in, but finally he grabbed my balls firmly and squeezed and I cut loose with a roar. Eight, ten, twelve burning shots of hot jizz shot from me directly into Marco’s throat, and as he pulled off, two smaller, lesser shots gave him a mouthful as a parting gift.
I hung there, panting, as my dick softened and I could feel the head tickling as it brushed my bushy crotch hair.
“Better?” Marco said, with a shy smile as he tongued an escaping dot of come from the corner of his wide mouth.
I couldn’t form words, but he knew. Nothing in my life had felt so all-encompassing and perfect as shooting so much come out of my big dick into a hot mouth of a sexy guy. His shy smile sealed the deal, and I was smitten. And swimming in endorphins. Literally high. I felt almost disconnected from my body and had trouble focusing properly. Marco’s delicious scent, the scent of him aroused and wanting me, burned into my memory.
Wordlessly, Marco finished washing me, put the supports back in place, rotated me back, and quietly switched off the light and shut the door as he left.
My eyes quickly adjusted again, But I was worn out, and as I closed my newly light sensitive eyes, I heard a soft whirr and click as the pump in my arm began to send more… whatever it was into my body.
I had been unconscious for the previous infusions, but this time I was awake.
It’s such a strange sensation, having something sent directly into your veins. I was in the hospital once and I’d experienced the IV painkiller drip, which was sort of a slow wave of relief. This was nothing like that.
First off, the stuff they were pumping into me felt a little like that icy-hot stuff you use on your muscle spasms. It started in my arm, then shot through my chest and into my bloodstream through my heart, which pumped with renewed vigor. Or maybe I was just paying more attention. Anyway the sensation was almost tangible and I could feel it reaching every bit of me in seconds. The the whirring stopped with a faint click, and another one started in the other arm. This one just felt warm at first, but it seemed to slowly wipe out the chilly-hot sensation from the first one, leaving me feel warm, while my brain started to feel a little fuzzy and detached. Must have been painkiller or something in that second one….and I dozed off. I had the faint impression of other people in the room, mostly from unknown, but slightly familiar, scents that lingered as my consciousness faded.
When I came to, it was to find myself in a different position. This time, I seemed to be suspended about four feet off the floor, and again at a slightly upward angle. The framework I was strapped to was in a different position, but I was still secured and immobile.
If anything, my senses felt sharper than they had before. I could see pretty well by what I knew now was just the light from the exit sign, though the floor offered little of interest. It was pretty immaculate. The same noises as before, mostly, but now some sort of air filtration seemed to be in place, with a relatively quiet hum of an electric fan and air through vents.
My nose told me that someone had swabbed the place down with antiseptic of some kind, and the rubbery smell of fresh hoses suggested my IV had been replaced. I could still smell myself, when I concentrated, but Marco’s scent was gone completely. I had no sense of the time, of course, but I did begin to register a dull ache in all my joints that reminded me of the last time I’d really overdone it at the gym—which had been longer ago than I liked to think about. And as I cast my mental gaze over each sore spot, others revealed themselves, and a muscle soreness also flared up. It wasn’t a sharp pain, just a faint burn and a lingering ache. But it was pretty much all I had to look forward to at the moment.
The frame I was strapped into had been reconfigured, and I was, as near as I could tell, spread-eagled—in fact I could just make out cylinders at about eye level at the extremes of my peripheral vision where my arms seemed likely to end. But this time, I could feel something, faintly, from my right arm. Felt like I was lying on my arm, and my fingers were trapped in a pillowy, pliant space. Same with my feet and toes. And, I realized, there was a new weight around my waist, and something was strapped there as well. I couldn’t really feel my dick, but I suspected some sort of urine collection thing was there. I really hoped there wasn’t a catheter; those things creeped me out.
As I continued to take mental stock of my position, my ears alerted me to the sound of someone in the hallway, and the step suggested Marco.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Good. Lights in 3-2—1…”
Again, my eyes quickly adjusted, and the smell and presence of Marco filled the room.
“Bath time again?”
“Well, it has been a while since you were awake for it.”
“How long this time?”
“Three days, and a bit. I think. Like I said before, it’s hard to be sure in here. But it’s been that long since I was here, at least. And man, they have been busy with you.”
“I think I see why they didn’t want to show you what was happening,” he said setting the bucket down.
“Fuck, please… please tell me.”
“Does it matter? I mean, you can’t do anything about it. I can’t do anything about it. It’s going to happen, at whatever pace they decide, for as long as they want it to. What good is knowing?”
“Because sooner or later they’re going to let me out of this thing and I want to try to prepare for what I eventually see.”
“Point,” he said. “Okay. Well, first thing. You’re… bigger. How tall were you when you got here?”
“I dunno, five nine or so? Maybe 160?”
“Really? Shit, they really have been working on you. Dude, you gotta be close to six and a half feet, at least. So there’s that.”
“Taller?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yeah. But the crazy thing is I think you’re going to get bigger, because your arms are crazy long. Unless you’re secretly Michael Phelps.”
“Shit,” I said. “How do they even do that?”
“Told you, I don’t know anything about that. But that’s not all. You remember the other day when your dick was all huge?”
“Yeah. Kind of hard to forget that.”
“Well, I don’t know how big it is now, but it’s in this contraption,” he said, tapping the metallic tube strapped to my waist. “Can you feel anything?”
“Not right now.”
“There’s another big change you should probably know about,” he said, “but it might be easier to do this.”
He reached out his hand and stroked my back gently, like he was petting me. The thick, long hair smoothed out of the way under his ministrations, and—-
“What the fuck!”
“Yeah, that’s a little weird.”
“Why the fuck are they turning me into a Sasquatch?”
“Dude, you’re starting to panic. Calm down, if you can. Look at me,” he said, his caramel face and big brown eyes stared me in the face.
“How can I calm down? They’re fucking with my body, man.”
“You and everyone here,” he said. “You know you’re not the first, right? You probably won’t be the last, but you’re not alone. We’ve all been fucked with and you’re still you. You’re lucky. Whatever they’re doing, you’re okay and you’re you.”
We stared at each other in silence for a moment, and I could smell the change in the room while I was starting to hyperventilate. I could hear my own racing heart start to calm down, and I could almost hear his. But more than anything, I realized his scent was comforting. He was nice, and he was calm, and he was really really cute, and he smelled good.
“That’s better. Now, I’m going to wash you, because I gotta tell you, it really reeks of you in here, and I don’t think all this furry stuff is helping.”
I hung there in silence as he scrubbed down everywhere he could reach, starting with my back—and it was obvious that there wasn’t just a lot of hair, it was practically fur. It seemed to cover my entire back and much of my arms, and all of my butt and legs.
“The good news is, you have an amazing ass, you know.”
“It’s all hair and huge.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Amazing. You got a lot of muscle there, but the shape is really nice under all the fur.” It was almost like he was chatting in a hair salon, so matter of fact, but then he ran the scrubber down the crack of my ass and poured more water over it. It felt really nice as he rubbed and scrubbed the meaty part of my ass but the soap water and scrubber felt even nicer near my hole, so when he brushed it with his finger, it made me instinctively clench my asshole shut.
“Hah! You wanna let my finger go, buddy?”
“Sorry,” I said, breathing a little more deeply.
“It’s okay. You just have a pretty tight ass and it’s… it’s hard not to explore. Honestly, I kind of have to dig around, your butt is big and I’m supposed to clean everywhere. But it’s not really fair to you, strung up like this.”
“I know you’re just cleaning me, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“…Right, I’ll move on.” And he silently and sensuously cleaned the rest of my legs, at least down to the tubes encasing my feet. Then he worked his way up, on the underside of my body, being particularly careful around the crotch, but seeming to get into it as he worked his way up my chest.
“Hang on, bad angle here. Let me see,” he said, tapping a panel. The frame rose until I was more or less vertical again. From this position, it was obvious I’d grown, because my feet were still at least a foot off the ground, and my head was level with the tops of the cabinets. The ceilings were much, much higher, maybe 10 feet high. I felt enormous.
Marco came back to the front side, and smiled at me. “Now, you’re stuck in a tube, so don’t expect anything from me if I brush your nipples this time. I can’t unhook anything.” He scrubbed and washed and studiously avoided my nipples, but he did pay attention to my chest and abs. “Shaggy boy, you got some meat on you now,” he chuckled. “Catching up to that dick of yours.”
Finally, he finished washing me and I felt and smelled much better. He dug into the other bucket and produced a thickly bristled brush, showing it to me. “Okay, I gotta brush you out or you’ll get all matted.”
You know when you go to the barber shop and they scrub your scalp? How relaxing that is? Or when someone else brushes your hair for you? It’s really nice.
This was like that, but dialed up to 9.
It also became obvious that I didn’t just have a lot of hair…or fur or whatever the fuck they’d done to me. I had it everywhere and it was about 3 to 4 inches long. Quite thick, and the same golden brown as my hair had been.
I also realized that my hair, fur, whatever—it smelled really nice. Marco commented much the same, as he brushed. “The more I brush this stuff, the softer it gets, and it smells nice. Much better than you smelled after three days hanging here.”
He moved to the front of me, and I realized that my scruffy beard wasn’t really a beard anymore. He brushed my face gently. “You look like a big sexy yeti,” he said.
“Duh, I don’t just suck anyone’s cock, you know.”
“Even like this?”
“You kidding? I mean, the fur isn’t my thing normally, but you got a jacked, muscular body that most guys would kill for, and I always liked tall guys.” He slowly brushed my arm with long, teasing strokes. “You know, your nipples are hard again.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I bet you do.” He set the brush down and stroked my fuzzy face with his hand. “You’re really pushing my buttons.”
“I know, I can smell you.”
“Yeah. You’re aroused. Smells pretty hot.”
He blushed. He actually blushed.
“Told you you push my buttons.”
Suddenly the moment was shattered by a shrill beeping.
“Whoa—you must be kicking out pheromones again,” he said, shaking out of his lusty haze. “They set up a monitor. They kind of don’t want me fooling around with you too much. I’m really, really sorry—”
I felt the numbness blossom in my arm and pump through my body in seconds, and I fell asleep.
Whatever was happening to me, it was frustrating.
Every time I started to adjust even a tiny bit, I’d get overwhelmed by my own….physicality, I guess? And it left me reeling, horny, and frequently unconscious. My body was rapidly becoming something inhuman and foreign.
Worse, it didn’t exactly feel …bad. I mean, it felt weird, but it didn’t hurt or anything. I careened from being absolutely detached to firmly present in a body I doubted I’d recognize. I knew I was losing days to oblivion, and I feared I was losing bits of myself as things progressed. Was I fighting it now or just letting it happen? What would the old me have done?
I didn’t want to be a yeti, but I did want to get with Marco and do all sorts of sexy stuff with him. God, he was so gentle and sexy and nice smelling. If he weren’t there, I wasn’t sure I’d have any of me left, and he provided a focus. Just calling me by my name helped root me in the here and now.
I began to think of my life as a routine. I’d wake up, discover some new and objectively disturbing change, and then Marco would come in and clean me up, and blow me and stroke me to release. We would kiss and talk briefly, but then they’d pump something else into me and I’d pass out and wake up a few days later.
On and on it went, and my limbs grew longer and shaggier, and my dick larger and thicker. My chest felt huge under the soft fur that was undeniably my own. But still, I couldn’t see myself nor move properly. My only measure of size or shape was a Marco, and he seemed to grow steadily more muscular (and possibly shorter?) as the days dragged on. He seemed ever more beautiful and masculine to me. I found myself torn between falling for my one source of humanity and intimacy, and resenting him.
I spent hours adjusting to an expanded range of perception, especially my sense of scent, but I kept quiet about what I was smelling. Not just Marco (whose scent now also included some bit of my own flavor), but a handful of distinct scents. I could tell when he had been around other men, when he’d whacked off himself, even what he had eaten.
i think it was maybe ten sessions into this routine when I realized I must have been there a month. Recently I seemed to have topped out in height, judging by where my eye line fell versus the cabinets. But I continued to broaden and pack on mass, as near as I could tell.
“Hey,” Marco said. I’d smelled him a distance away from the other side of the door. But this time there was another scent, an unfamiliar one with a chemical undertone to it.
“Hey sexy beast,” he grinned. “What did I have for lunch?”
“Pizza, I think. Lucky bastard. Pepperoni. But the real question is who is the new guy you ate with?”
He set down the brush, sighed, and turned to me. “Nobody,” he said, “but after lunch, I had to meet with someone to discuss you.”
“I have some news,” he said. “One more treatment, and you get a break.”
“Yeah. They decided you’re stable enough, that your mind is stable enough, to see what’s become of you here.”
I didn’t know how to respond. Didn’t know what to think. It had been weeks, probably, since I had been strapped to this stupid frame.
“It’s funny, I have the impression they have been arguing about you,” he said, “Apparently you confuse them. But at the same time, they need to let you move around or you’ll start to atrophy.” He resumed brushing me, and it felt quite good.
“And you know this how?”
“I pay attention. And they’re used to me. Plus I don’t think they care if I know, it isn’t like I can do anything about it. Other than tell you, and now I have.”
“Isn’t it a bit disconcerting that they don’t care?”
“Oh Chris, why would they care? What threat do you think I pose? I leave here, they press a button and blow up my brain. That’s assuming I had anywhere to go back to. Fuck, not one person would recognize me now.”
“Yeah, but with two of us—”
“You go running to the authorities, they’re likely to assume Bigfoot is real and shoot first.”
He was right of course. Still, I wasn’t fully ready to give up.
“Is it… is it really that extreme?”
“Not gonna lie, you really are something else. But I don’t think you have long to wait.”
“Indeed he doesn’t,” a quiet voice said over a too-loud speaker set somewhere above. “Marco, I think we shall allow you to do the honors.”
“Who are you? What is this place? What are you doing to me? How? Who the fuck are you?”
“Christopher, enough,” the voice replied, firmly. “You need to calm down so Marco can release you. If you want that, you will cooperate.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Marco, we are releasing the security locks. Before we do that, rotate the subject to lie flat.”
My friend did as asked and I was facing the ceiling, fully reclined.
“Good. Now, Christopher, I am going to release the security protocols and then Marco will help remove the restraints. Please allow him to remove them all before you sit up or attempt to move. After you acclimate to your body and can walk, Marco will lead you to room 622.”
“Got it,” Marco said. “Ready, buddy?”
I thought I’d had a handle on it, had some sense of what they were doing to me. I really thought that.
I was wrong.
I barely looked human, now, though you could see the echoes of my humanity, mostly in my face and eyes.
I was at least a foot taller than Marco, for a start. And I’d have put him around six feet tall.
Topping seven-plus feet tall made me freak, but the freakishness didn’t stop there, not by a long shot.
My feet were very large, proportionally, and my toes looked splayed and longer than I was used to. My big toe in particular stuck out at an unexpected angle, and I found that I could wiggle it independently. A thick coating of fur on top, down to the toes, made me think of hobbit feet from those movies, but these things had to be 18 inches long. Not quite a primate’s foot, but getting there. Bigfoot, Sasquatch, yeti… firmly in that zone.
Looking up, my legs were long, seriously muscled, and covered with fur. It could no longer be considered hair, but it was shaggy and made me think of a border collie or something. Probably a couple of inches long all over. My calves looked like someone had inserted footballs; they were dwarfed by the massive thighs. Possibly the fur added to the impression, but they really were huge, the muscles lean but large, and the definition likely hidden under the coat of fur.
My midsection was thick with corded muscle, and a thinner and lighter coat of fur—probably shaved or trimmed, I realized—covered my abdomen and groin. And a massive set of furry nuts hung in a less furred sack, bulging obscenely forward. Probably the size of coconuts, they looked almost comically huge, but they were proportional to the monster cock I now sported. As long soft, I’d guess, as my stupidly big feet now measured—at least 16 inches, probably more like 18. That was soft. How on earth had poor Marco kept up?
Atop my thick midsection sat two massive, heaving pecs, covered in the same lighter fur of my tummy. I realized I was starting to hyperventilate—an understandable reaction. I forced myself to be calm. This was me, for now at least, and I needed to understand that. Face it.
My long arms were spread wide, still held in sturdy metallic clamps, but the arms were notably longer than a human’s would be. My shoulders were twice as broad as my waist, and the huge upper arms looked like I had been cut and pasted from a poorly scaled double. Those arms were massive, the biceps and triceps competing for real estate, especially given the spread eagle position I was in. Forearms that made me think of Popeye, by the thickness.
Without effort, those arms would probably stretch to my knees, especially with the oversized mitts I now had for hands. My hands were actually hidden within the device, but their size was hinted at by the large metal cylinders they were stuck in. Palming a basketball was likely a trivial task for me, now.
My neck was longer than expected too, but it made up for it by being buried in huge muscles that reached up, I suspected, behind my ears. The extra heavy fur that coated my chest also covered my shoulders and upper arms gave the impression of a beastly mane.
Only my face reminded me of me—large green eyes (larger now, I suspected), a prominent Roman nose, and a wide mouth. I presumed my ears were still around, but I couldn’t see them. I was half surprised to not find something brutal and animalistic in their stead, but they seemed covered by my mane. My forehead seemed heavier and my brow was lost in thick, darker fur. My lips looked thicker, but it was hard to judge given the mass of shaggy fur that covered my face like a beard. Cheekbones were a memory, as the hair seemed to start just under my eyes. I was grateful for Marco’s relentless brushing, because otherwise I’d have been lost under a matted mess.
“Fuck,” I said, resigned. I felt the panic subside as Marco tentatively placed his hand on my thigh. That was comforting, but it also tickled, and I felt myself beginning to react. Up and out the monstrous appendage lurched, and by the time it stopped, it had to have nearly doubled in length. At least two feet of cock stretched from my groin, arcing slightly out to rest between my huge pecs. The sight of it was both arousing and terrifying, because while it had the original shape of a human cock, the bottom third of it seemed encased in a thick sheath, covered in the same shaggy fur. That and I was now uncut, and the angry head of my helmet struggled past the foreskin eagerly.
“I think it’s best we deal with that. Collect a sample, Marco. An unforeseen, but not entirely unwelcome, effect, no?”
Marco set to work, producing a bucket and expertly attending to me, seemingly without shame. He certainly wasn’t going to deep throat me, but his dancing tongue and talented hands soon had me bucking and shooting. Finally, half a bucket of creamy sponge and quite a mess on Marco later, and he was wiping us down.
“Excellent. Another trial surpassed, Christopher. We are very pleased. Many would have gone mad when faced with a transformation such as you have undergone. Yet you have found the pleasure such a form can bring. I think you may just be one of the lucky ones.”
“Pleased.” I was standing a little unevenly on my own as Marco finished mopping himself down. My arms were still in the damned restraints, and my cock—all two feet of it—was rapidly losing steam after the epic draining I’d just had.
“Yes, Christopher,” the voice said. “You’ve been our most successful one yet.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“They won’t tell you,” Marco said, half under his breath. “Been asking for months now.”
“It is best you not know,” the voice replied.
“British, obviously,” I said, determined. “Educated, trained in the ol’ BBC Received Pronunciation style.”
No reply to that.
“A mature male voice with a bit of gravel in it, probably a former smoker. Going to guess you’re in your 60s. Right out of central casting…”
More silence, and Marco fixed me with a worried, warning look, as if to say don’t poke the bear, dude.
Fuck that. At this point, I was the bear.
“Very observant,” the voice said. “But I’m afraid you cannot bait me into revealing anything. Now. shall we proceed with allowing you a little more freedom, or do you plan to seek ways to undermine that?”
Ah. Well, they did have me at a disadvantage.
“I take it you plan to cooperate?”
“What choice do I have?”
“Only the choice to accept and move forward, or to resist until you fail. It is best you accept those parameters, at least.”
When you wear shoes—not that I’d be likely to wear them, in my current state—you reach a point at the end of a long day of walking where you can finally take them off, and when you do so, you suddenly realize how used to discomfort you’ve become. Humans are really remarkably good at ignoring their own bodies. Then we’re surprised by suddenly being allowed to feel the things we should have before our brains shut it down. Humans are terrifying that way.
Assuming I even counted as human.
Anyway, it was like that, taking off the restraints and letting gravity pull my huge arms free of them. Like pulling off hiking boots.
My immense, aching arms felt suddenly like so much lead, even moving them seemed taxing. My legs were picking up the weight decently well (and well they should, they looked strong as heck), but watching the muscles in my too-long arms flex and bulge as I shook the feeling back into my arms was pretty surreal.
“Easy there buddy,” Marco said. “I gotcha. Now grab onto this frame and lean on it,”
It looked stupidly flimsy, but sure enough it held my weight well.
“Much better. It will take a day or two for your strength to return. Or should I really say, for your body to reacquaint itself with how to manage its new mass,” the voice said. “Marco will take you to your room. Marco will also be assigned to help you orient yourself.”
Marco’s eyes lit up just a little at that, though he quickly clamped down expressing it. Didn’t matter; I could smell his excitement.
“One thing,” I said, pushing my luck. “Why the secrecy?”
“If you were kidnapping scores of men, and conducting secret experiments on them, you’d want to keep a few secrets, too.”
He had a point.
“Now, if you can stand unaided, one last item. Stand upright, please. And close your eyes.”
I did so as a green laser grid began to scan me from the ground up. Yeah, closing eyes a good idea.
“You are quite the specimen, Christopher.”
I grunted noncommittally.
“Yes….yes, these are excellent results. Shall I read them to you?”
“You are 2.4 meters tall, and you weigh 290 kilograms. That’s about 7’8 and 640 pounds for those living in backwaters,” the voice said with some amusement. Your arms are quite long indeed, at just over 2.6 meters total wingspan, nearly a foot longer than you are tall. Your upper arms are 66 centimeters around, or 26 inches. Your chest, under the fur at least, is 188 cm, a bit over 6 feet around. Waist and thighs matching at around 102 cm, or 41 inches. Your feet are 45 cm, nearly 18 inches. And I’m sure you noticed that your genitals have grown. 46 cm soft, 60 when erect. Is that enough to satisfy you? Or shall I go into other, less immediately obvious details? We’ve been quite busy with you. Perhaps later. If you behave.”
Fuck, I was a monster.
As we staggered out and the door closed behind us, I could smell the fear and concern on Marco, but that was just layered on his normal, reassuring, “mine” scent. I took a deep, appreciative sniff.
“Why did you provoke them?” He whispered, irritated.
“Who, me? I wanted to know.”
“Seriously, do not want to piss them off. Think of what they’ve already done….and what they could do, if they really wanted.”
“I’ve survived so far,” I said, “And I was a confrontational jerk before this anyway.”
He laughed a little nervously at that. “Yeah, well, poke too hard here, and it could get you killed. Or worse.”
“What could possibly be worse?”
We stopped and he grabbed me, pulling me close.
“Remember I mentioned friends who didn’t make it? Well, Tyler lost his mind. He poked them too hard. Pushed his luck. We were… close. But he pissed them off, and then his intellect and personality started to drain away. Last I saw him, he was barely functional.”
Yeah, that was a lot worse.
I confess I was still a little groggy, but I could just about follow the winding path through various industrial corridors until we reached a door. A fancy, high tech retina scanner and a thumbprint reader popped out of a panel next to the door, and Marco obliged it. The door clanked unlocked and opened for us.
Inside was a spartan, almost military-looking quarters for two. It reminded me of my college dorm, or a hospital room, what with the exposed shower and toilet area. It was obvious that my side was the one with the larger bed, and in fact with heavy, reinforced furniture throughout. Most of it bolted into place. It had an industrial, almost antiseptic smell to it, but also a distinct scent of Marco. It smelled like home, somehow. Or it would once my own scent settled…..
“Cozy,” I said.
“They must have swapped out the bedding while I was busy,” Marco said. “Welcome to my room. Well, ours now, I guess.”
“At least the company’s good,” I said, sitting cautiously on the bed. When it didn’t break under my new size, I laid back and stretched out on it. It was surprisingly comfortable, some kind of heavy memory foam thing.
“Beds aren’t bad either,” Marco admitted. “My mattress at home was kind of shitty. But it’s still a prison.”
“Yeah.” I stretched my arms again, still trying to connect these shaggy, huge arms with my sense of self. Definitely stiff.
“You know what,” Marco said, “How about we see if I an work the tension out of your shoulders, and then we’ll get a bite to eat.”
With a bit of effort, I rolled over, my stupidly large package making the process a bit trickier than I’d imagined. Marco climbed over me, planting his fine ass on my own, and began to feel around my back and shoulders. His hands were firm and strong, and he quickly touched his way through the major muscles and joints. Then he cracked his own knuckles and began to work on me properly.
“This would be easier if I had some oil, but we’ll have to make do. Let me know if I’m pulling your fur or anything,” Marco said.
For about twenty minutes, it was luxury. Marco explained that he’d done a course in college and nearly got his massage therapy license, but changed his plans. When his hands were worn out, he relented and I shook my arms out tentatively. Much improved.
Marco remained sitting on my butt, but as he’d worked on me, he’d had to lean forward a lot, and it was obvious that he was aroused. Even if I hadn’t felt his erection occasionally when he leaned forward, I could scent it, as well as my own scent seeping into the sheets. I wasn’t really aroused, having just gotten off before we came here, and having lost myself in the sensation of a really good massage, but it wouldn’t take much to get me going.
“Right,” Marco said. “Let’s get some food. I don’t think you’ve had proper food in a while. We order here, and someone will bring it.”
Using the touchpad was a bit awkward, not just because it felt like a child’s toy in my massive mitts, but also because it just didn’t work quite right with my tougher, thicker skin. I remembered something about touch screens and electricity, but filed it away for later. But everything sounded delicious, and Marco admitted the food was pretty decent. I ordered what felt like two meals, and about 15 minutes later the food arrived. I ended up eating all of mine, and some of Marco’s, as he sat there mesmerized.
“Ordinarily, I’d suggest we do something else, but I have a feeling you’re going to need to sleep properly for a while,” Marco said.
“I don’t feel that tired.”
“You will, they drug the food sometimes. I’m sure they want you to sleep properly.”
Suddenly I felt shy, like an awkward teen, as Marco removed his clothing and climbed into his bed.
“Oh,” Marco said. “Do you want me to sleep with you?”
“Uh…” I said stupidly, but probably grinning a little.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not,” he said.
“If you’ll fit,” I said.
“It’s a king size bed and your feet hang off the edge anyway. I’ll fit.”
I awoke to a pleasurable warmth, the sort you get from having someone beside you—the first time in a very long time I had awakened that way. And the gently snoring, ridiculously hot guy snuggled up against my massive, furry pec was buck naked and seemed more than comfortable here.
And why wouldn’t he be? I mean, he was basically cuddled up to a giant fur coat—the pillow sized pec was covered in shaggy golden fur, as was the massive (and stupidly long) arm curled protectively behind him.
Of course Marco himself was no slouch, a solid six-footer with a built bod and a big cock of his own, but I was legitimacy a freak of nature, a veritable Sasquatch made flesh. But I suspected that even if I’d been in a row of other giant, hurry, men, my dick alone would make me a freak. Jesus it was big—soft, as it was now, it was a good foot and a half, and it was nearly two feet long when aroused. That would not be practical in the wild, I guessed, even if you were over 7.5 feet tall.
As if by instinct—well, almost certainly that—I sniffed the air deeply, picking up the scent of Marco and remnants of dinner, and the astringent stink of the cleaning fluid that pervaded the building.
I wrestled for a while with why I found the scents so profoundly compelling, and I rationalized it as simple exploration—the ability was new, and I was still refining my understanding of it. I also knew that my own particular pheromonal cocktail seemed to stimulate Marco’s arousal on a primal level whereas I could, with effort, detect it without being influenced by it. Smelling Marco’s arousal was another story. Luckily he was still out cold.
I was, honestly, a bit surprised that all we had done last night was cuddle—but it had been immensely satisfying, psychologically, to just cuddle someone who I cared about and who cared about me. Even before my capture and experimentation, it had been a while. But now? I was human in mind only, I realized, and the rest was some hybrid feral beast man. I couldn’t fathom why this had been done to me, or what their other experiments were for, but Marco was also changed, he had said. His changes made more sense: he had gone from dumpy computer nerd to bulky Olympic athlete. Refining the human form made sense.
In any other setting, he would be a huge success story, but he looked like a ten year old next to the raw power of my altered body. My upper arm was the length of his torso and nearly as thick.
Marco’s changes were marketable. Who on earth benefitted from creating a Bigfoot? Tour guides on the pacific mountains?
My head was clearer, at least. And as I lay here, sniffing the comforting smell of Marco, I considered my options. Escape, at least at present, didn’t seem like a viable option—not least because My appearance was more likely to produce a shotgun or industrial sedative than a discussion as to why I was there.
There was also the matter of Marco, and the hinted at other occupants here, all those anxious human scents I had picked up in the hall.
Finally, I was still a stranger in this body. I needed time to become familiar with it before attempting anything.
No, no matter what else, I simply needed more information, and I just hoped that I’d learn more quickly. God knew what else they had planned.
I smiled at the hunk at my side. Besides, I would enjoy getting to know Marco better before we missed out on anything, and before we risked our lives.
A slight change in breathing told me Marco was about to wake up. Man, I could get used to these hyper tuned senses. The only light was from a digital clock, and I could see just fine.
“Mmmmm…” Marco said, nuzzling into my side.
“How did you sleep?” I asked, still not used to the odd timbre of my voice. Barry White, eat your heart out.
“God, your whole chest vibrates when you speak,” he said, smiling and gripping me harder. “Say something else!”
“I kind of have to pee, so…”
“Ugh, fine, ruin the mood, you big spoilsport.” He yawned and stretched as he rolled upright, which was a treat for the eyes. So many muscles.
“Don’t tempt me,” I said. “I don’t want to make that thing angry, and I need to pee before it wakes up.”
Marco looked down at my mammoth soft cock wistfully. “Sorry, pal,” he said to my cock, “Playtime will have to wait, I guess.”
But not for long. The little slide out commode in the corner was barely adequate for my needs, but the length of my dick helped compensate for the higher vantage point. Marco took care of his own bladder needs afterwards, while I rinsed my hands and fiddled with the menu device trying to order food. We chatted while we ate, mostly about amenities and services available. For a prison run by mad scientists, it was rather nice. But we also turned out heads to practical and logistical matters.
“I don’t know what their next steps are, or what they’re trying to accomplish,” Marco said. “Turning you into a hunky man-beast may not have been intentional.”
“That’s another thing,” I mused. “Whatever they’re putting in us to make us compliant seems to prevent questioning too deeply, or reacting too much to the level of crazy that seems normal here.”
“If you’d seen my browser history, you’d be less surprised by my reaction,” Marco replied. “Maybe they saw it, and that’s why they paired us up. I mean, right before you got here, or at least before I knew about you, was when Ty lost it. Before then, we had been in communal quarters. I think they figured that we would help stabilize each other, through the power of camaraderie and friendship or something. But that didn’t work.” His expression darkened. I declined to prod, for now.
“Well, at least some good came out of it, if I get you here with me.”
“Awww. Thanks, Chris.”
“Say that again?”
“Uh, thanks? Chris?”
“That’s the stuff. Hearing you say my name…it reminds me that I am still me.”
Is it mistaken identity? Or is something darker at work here? Whatever the case, when our main character gets sent to detention, he’s sure there’s been a mistake. The guy sitting next to him, however, sees things differently.