by BRK

 Cam needs to get the cute guy he’s dosed with a little bit of experimental physio-changing serum to say what he wants in order for the transformations to start. He’s planning to keep things small and subtle, only Aiden isn’t as bashful as he appears, and he’s also just a tiny bit drunk.

Added: Sep 2018 4,175 words 9,382 views 4.9 stars (11 votes)


“So, what would you say is the ideal size for a cock?” Camden asked. He kept his voice low and warm voice, his lips close to Aiden’s ear to ensure he’d be heard over the hurly-burly of Cam’s favorite place to unwind, the city’s only gay sports bar. The excitable midnight crowd was, as usual raucously enjoying five big screens worth of football and soccer over an endless supply of wings, longnecks, and whole lot of innocent butt-groping. Cam was just a little miffed that he had work to do tonight, but doing it here at least might mean he could have some fun at the same time.

The young banker from whom Cam had invited this assessment of the phallic ideal blushed a little and ducked his head. Aiden wasn’t really all that shy, though—certainly he wasn’t nearly as shy as Cam had guessed when he’d invited himself to buy the awkwardly cute suit-and-tie guy a couple of beers earlier in the evening, and he’d just blushed a little and smiled, tilting his head the tiniest bit toward the open booth next to him without saying a word. He definitely seemed not to be minding the way Cam’s arm had slid down a bit from the curve of the little booth behind him to drape lightly around Aiden’s invitingly bumpy shoulders, or the way it brought their faces closer together; like their little corner of the bustling, boisterous bar, their casual coziness was both public and intimate at the same time.

And now Aiden was looking up at Cam through adorably long lashes, a playful glint in his hazel eyes. “Depends on what you’re using it for, I guess,” he said, lips curving. He took a swig from his own green-glass bottle, still smiling, his eyes resting comfortably on Cam’s friendly face and reassuring smile like they hadn’t just met. Cam was very curious about this guy. In fact he was half-tempted to ditch the experiment, grab Aiden’s hand, and find the nearest taxi to someplace they could fuck for hours and hours.

But he had a job to do, and the aliens currently in charge of the impossibly secret deep exo-R&D team at Avery-Daxon PharmaSolutions LLC were unnervingly invested in getting results. (They had a rather extreme reward/punishment-that-seems-like-a-reward plan for the five trusted humans in the group, and after seeing what had happened to Hal—could he still walk with that thing?—Cam most assuredly intended to stay on the “rewards” side of the equation.)

Cam had surreptitiously checked the contents of the beer bottle before glancing back at his subject, making a couple of mental calculations. Aiden had still only downed three-quarters of his second Becks, and the experimental BV31 “self-change” serum he’d slipped into this one would start wearing off in twenty minutes. Time to kick his game into gear. Cam’s own half-hard cock twitched and shifted in his snug, butt-hugging jeans, not far from where his leg was leaning lightly against what felt like a toned but not thickly muscled thigh; but he kept his free hand on the table, idly fingering the weave of the empty basket that not long before had been piled with lemon-pepper chicken strips. He told it to be patient. Work first, then play.

He smiled back at the young man. From what he could tell Aiden was maybe a year at the most out of business school, and from the white shirt, top button already unbuttoned, and the loosened red-and-blue-spotted tie Cam guessed he’d headed to Wally’s straight from a late night at the office crunching piles of numbers for no doubt unappreciative higher-ups. He was boyishly good-looking, fit but not muscled, with short curly brown hair up top that seemed to be matched, intriguingly, by the similarly twisty wisps of short, brown hair escaping from his barely open collar behind the yanked-loose tie. Dark stubble edged invitingly along his sharp jawline.

Cam directed Aiden’s attention to a couple of preppy-looking jocks who were twined around each other and languidly making out not far away, the ginger one in the black polo with his back up against the wall between the booths and the long main bar, the dark-haired one showing a considerable bulge despite the way their groins were writhing slowly together, thanks to the way his cock seemed to lay along the brunet’s hip. Both were pretty hot and obviously spent a lot of time working out, but while the ginger had the sort of natural physique of a farmboy baseball player who was naturally strong and well-proportioned, the dark-haired one had the thick, hard, rounded muscles of a gymnast who spent all his time honing and perfecting every pound of muscle he earned. Cam’s own dick throbbed as he looked them over, but he kept his eye on the task at hand. “Say the redhead is, I dunno, five inches hard,” he said, “and the dark-haired guy has, say, ten inches. Which—”

“Is that all, you think?” Aiden interrupted, gazing at the couple with intense interest. “That looks like twelve easy to me. And thick as fuck.”

Cam glanced back at Aiden with a surprised grin. “Yeah? You figure he’s packing twelve inches?”

Aiden grinned back at him, unexpectedly sending Cam’s pulse quickening. Man, he was cute. “Oh, definitely,” Aiden said, eyes twinkling. “I’d say even thirteen or fourteen. He’s seriously packing.” He actually snuggled a little then into the arm had around him, wriggling his shoulders just enough to suggest he wanted their conversation to be even more intimate and confidential.

“All right,” Cam said, obliging Aiden’s signal by tightening his arm just enough to draw Aiden close. They were touching all along their bodies from arms to butts to ankles. He considered his next move. He liked to start small, and usually stayed with minor changes, especially as half the time nothing seemed to happen—placebos? alternative formulas?—in which case it was all harmless chat. But he was starting to guess that the seemingly reserved Aiden might defy a lot of his expectations. “Let’s go with fourteen, then,” he said gamely. That changed an average vs. outlier dynamic into one that was more average vs. extreme, but that kind of data was interesting to the pharma-aliens too. The driving idea was to experiment with volition-induced physiological change in humans, but he knew the data were being used sociologically, too. He still wasn’t sure what the aliens were getting from all this, other than that humans clearly had sex on the brain. Well, they weren’t wrong.

Now to connect the hypothetical to the personal. “So,” he went on, seeming to speak casually even though he was choosing his words very carefully: “If it’s your dick, then, which one do you want to have?” He smiled and winked, giving the subject permission to say whatever he wanted without judgment because it was all just fun, flirty banter. He waited, watching Aiden, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Cam’s since he’d moved them closer together.

This was the critical moment. He had to get the subject to express his desire to possess some specific physical attribute—”I want x” where x was something about his own body. Fortunately, very early in the project Cam had hit on a helpful introductory step in the process: once he was sure the serum was ingested, and the alien tech/magic/whatever in it was taking effect (Cam didn’t know what exactly was in there—the aliens sure hadn’t shared the secret formulas with any of the humans), he asked the leading question “So, do you answer questions with sentence fragments, or with nice, complete sentences”—which, most of the time, get the subject to state that he did the latter, which the serum then made the actual case whether it was true or not. For that very useful protocol improvement Cam had earned a very interesting “reward”. He didn’t remember that weekend very well, but then, sustained orgasmic bliss is all about the moment. Just thinking about it made him hard as fuck, though. He shifted, watching Aiden with a genial grin.

Aiden played out his answer by taking a pull from his bottle first. In so doing he drained the last of the doctored beer, so Cam didn’t begrudge him the attempted at suspense. Then he grinned wide, letting his tongue show between his teeth. “I want to have the fourteen-incher, of course,” he said with a low, dirty laugh. “I mean, fuck! Can you even ima—?”

He broke off abruptly, his hazel eyes suddenly huge, round, and unfocused. His gaze drifted off Cam’s face slightly as he focused on some sensation he was experiencing. “Holy…” he said, sounding awed. Then his eyes jumped back to meet Cam’s, wide and astonished. “Holy shit! Cam,” he said hoarsely, “I think something just happened to my dick?” He said it almost like a question, they way you do when something that can’t possible happen seems to have happened anyway.

Cam frowned. The subject wasn’t supposed to be aware he was being experimented on—that would completely skew the data and send the whole encounter straight into the bin.

He returned Aiden’s awestruck stare, his mind spinning like a centrifuge. This never happened. The unaware component of the entire BV series was so secure, the aliens hadn’t even trained them on—

“Aiden—” Cam started to say, though he wasn’t sure at all what words should come next; the only thing he knew was that subjects, and, well, other humans in general, could not know any of the things Cam knew about aliens, serums, and volition-induced pharmaceutical transformations. (He thought about Hal again—poor guy.) Aiden, meanwhile, had dropped one of his hands below the table and had apparently been tentatively exploring the current condition of his crotch, because his eyes suddenly got even wider and he exclaimed, “It did! Fuck, Cam, I have a fourteen-inch boner in my pants right now!”

It was bad enough he was aware of it, it was bad enough he said it, but, worse, his young banker was just intoxicated enough to say it a little too loudly, because his announcement was greeted by an amused snort from behind him. He turned his head enough to see that the make-out couple had taken a break from their mouth-mashing and were watching the Cam and Aiden show with horny amusement. It was the dark-haired one with the big dick that had snorted; the ginger still had his attentions mostly fixed on his buddy.

Aiden, still wide-eyed, glanced over Cam’s shoulder and then back at Cam. He decided it was put up or shut up time, and he and Cam both knew he had plenty to put up. He grabbed Cam’s free hand and thrust it at his own crotch. “Here, feel!” he insisted.

Sure enough, there was no mistaking the massive, very fat erection straining against the thick, cotton-blend navy fabric of his (fortunately loose) trousers alone the leg farther away from Cam. Aiden’s hand pushed him to feel all along its very fat length, and there was no mistaking its ruler-busting dimensions. Cam’s own more-than-ample hard-on was jumping and twitching in his own pants, and he was feeling the hot wetness of the pre he was churning out seeping into the denim and truckling along his skin. He blinked at Aiden, not having to fake being completely flummoxed.

“Well? Does he measure up?” laughed the dark-haired jock, who’d moved around to get a closer view. Clearly the guy was very entertained by the whole thing.

Cam looked up at him and offered him a sly, cocky grin, like he was the fox in the henhouse here. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he taunted.

Cam figured that kind of reminder that Aiden and Cam were having their own moment here would probably be the end of it, but Aiden said excitedly to them, “No, seriously, guys, you have to check this out!”

Cam turned back to him, alarmed. “Aiden, dude, what are you—?”

But the dark-haired gymnast-guy was already dropping into the booth on Aiden’s other side with a grin and a “Sure, I’ll bite,” while the ginger, who clearly had his mind on other things, trailed behind and stood to one side. Aiden let go of Cam’s wrist and immediately seized the newcomer’s right hand, shoving it right at the monster dick that was now a part of Aiden’s life. Cam’s hand brushed the jock’s as he pulled his own out of the way, drawing it back to rest uncertainly on Aiden’s other thigh. “I’m Max, by the way,” the smiling hunk said saucily, meeting Aiden’s eyes even as his own widened. “Jesus, you weren’t kidding!” he said, delighted and impressed. “This thing is huge!” Aiden’s cheek, meanwhile were reddening with arousal—Cam got the impression that Max was giving some very affectionate appreciate to Aiden’s new monster tool under the table.

Cam was staring very hard at Aiden, and now Max, completely at a loss. He was no good in a crisis, and this was totally a crisis. As the situation escalated his brain spun more and more in the direction of outright panic. He was going to get fired—no, worse, the aliens were going to fuck with him so hard that Hal’s shocking, if horrifically pleasurable, punishment would like like a hundred Christmas gifts and a blessing from the pope by comparison.

He knew he had to say something to fix this somehow, and his mouth was trying—his lips kept moving, trying to form words, but no sounds were coming out because no actual words were escaping from the chaos currently laying waste to everything between his ears.

Ironically it was that very gibbering impotence that saved him. The redheaded jock had apparently been watching Cam—the staring, the moving of the lips—because he spoke up suddenly and said, “Jesus, Max, no one has a fourteen-inch dick. He’s obviously hypnotizing you.”

Max turned his head and looked up at his buddy in surprise, his hand still appreciating the enormous boner that Aiden, in that moment, seemed happy to share with anyone and everyone. “Feels pretty real, Sam,” he argued with a grin.

“Look at him,” the redhead—Sam—said, nodding toward Cam. “He’s mindfucking both of you. Jesus, Max, look at him! He’s got you both totally snookered!”

In the two seconds it took for Max and Aiden both to swivel their heads toward him, Cam made up his mind. It was this, or catastrophe. A new calm settled over him. By the time they were turned to him, questions and nascent doubt written all over their faces, Cam had hardened his stare to such an intensity he thought his cool blue eyes might be literally bugging out ever so slightly from his sockets. He kept his lips parted a tad, as if he had only just stopped muttering, and in general made every effort to Rasputinize himself, if Rasputin were a young, gay, good-looking, well-built Irish-descended pharma scientist secretly corralled into human volition transformation experiments by curious alien researchers.

He stared hard into Max’s eyes, drilling the idea into his head, knowing he was the wild card. Then he turned and stared just as hard into Aiden’s eyes. He could see the idea taking hold with both of them, though Max was still skeptical—after all, he was gripping Aiden’s monster through the fabric of his pants. He had the evidence literally in his fist. Aiden, though—he had an idea that might stick it, if only the words fell out just right.

“Is it true?” Aiden asked. He sounded conflicted—he thought it might have occurred to Aiden that Cam having cool hypno powers was kind of awesome, especially if you got to know what it felt like to have a fat fourteen-inch super-hard-on.

Cam gave Max another glance first, planting the idea that Max was the objective observer; in this case, that would help sell that Cam was, as Sam had put it, mindfucking them. He met Aiden’s gaze again and affected the sigh of someone whose illusions have been exposed. “What do you think is more likely,” he asked with a wry, lopsided smile: “that your dick suddenly grew to an impossible size, or that I just managed to hypnotize two kinda drunk gay guys into thinking that you have an enormous wang?”

Aiden bit his lip, then nodded. “I believe you hypnotized us,” he said—still speaking in complete sentences, Cam observed. Aiden took in a deep breath. “That does make more sense,” he admitted. “Damn, though, it still feels so good!” He turned to Max. “Doesn’t it, though?”

“It does feel pretty real,” Max said. He still seemed divided, but he clearly knew something was going on with Cam that was more than what met the eye—which, fair enough, was dead on. “You must be really good at it,” Max told him, tilting his head as he looked at him as if he might be able to catch a glimpse at what Cam was hiding. Max obviously liked being able to feel up a massive schlong, a lot, but the idea of Cam being powerful enough to mess around in his head seemed to be giving him pause.

“Thanks,” Cam said, with unfeigned relief, “I’m glad you think so. I, uh, can’t sustain in for long, though, so…”

Max nodded, taking the hint. He gave Cam a knowing look and, squeezing Aiden’s oversized sausage one last time, he pulled his hand up to table level and offered it to Aiden. “Nice to, uh, meet you,” he said, letting his smirk resurface. Aiden grinned back and took his hand, shaking it. “Likewise,” he said, beaming, clearly thrilled to have gotten so much appreciation from such a hot guy.

“Come on,” Sam whined. “Stop grabbing other guys’ imaginary dicks and come get mine!”

Max looked up at him fondly. He spared one more dubious look and a nod for Cam, who nodded back, then slid out of the little booth and stood, grabbing his buddy around the waist. “Yeah? What do you plan to do with it, young man?”

They ambled away slowly, reengaging each other. “First, I’m going to fuck your ass,” Sam said, in the tone of someone who had a little frustration with his lover to work out. “Then I’m gonna spray all over your chest while I ride your thick…” His voice was lost in the noise of the still boisterous pub as the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

Time to stick a fork in this disaster, Cam thought. He pulled out his wallet and dropped tip money on the table. Tucking his billfold back into his snug jeans he turned to Aiden, who’d been watching him uncertainly. “Ready?” Cam asked.

Aiden brightened. “Ready for what?” he asked, brow cocked. He was already sliding around the little booth, matching Cam’s movements.

Cam stood and offered him a hand. He drew in a breath, looking his date over. He really was very cute and very fuckable. And he also happened to be more hung than any man had a right to be. Aiden took his hand, looking up at him with bright, heart-stopping eyes, and Cam offered him a sly, but genuine, smile. “Come and find out,” he said, drawing Aiden up to stand with him.

They stayed close like that, inches apart, and Cam enjoyed the feeling of Aiden’s warmth and presence as they looked into each other’s eyes. Cam only moved the slightest bit and they were kissing, sweetly but with deep intensity. Something implacable pressed against Cam’s thigh just above the knee, and Cam smiled into the kiss. They rested their foreheads together, both enjoying the throbbing of Aiden’s enormous and very eager member against Cam’s denim-clad leg. Aiden’s hands had slid down from where they’d been loosely wrapped around Cam’s torso, and were now frankly caressing Cam’s round, very tight ass. Clearly Aiden, whether helped by his new equipment or otherwise, was turned on even more than Cam was. Cam suspected that the departing Max and Sam had put a few ideas of their own into his head.

“You know what I want to do?” Aiden asked huskily, just loud enough to hear over the noise of the crowded part of the bar, the warm, faint gusts of his breath brushing pleasantly over Cam’s lips.

Cam knew he should stop him from engaging in any unguided volition transformations, but at this point, with Aiden’s need a palpable thing between them, and with his own erection trying to rip through his pants, he was very inclined to say, “Fuck it.” He pulled back just enough to be able to look Aiden in the eyes again. “What?” he asked, with a small, indulgent smile—a lover’s smile.

“I want you to fuck my hot, tight ass,” Aiden said, “and… I want to fuck you. With my giant cock.”

Cam kissed him gently, relieved—the two of them fucking each other would not require any alien transformation serum, though other semiliquid substances would definitely be called for. “Which one do you want to do first?” he asked.

But Aiden didn’t want to choose, it seemed. “Both,” he said, grinning. “I want to do both. And then I want to lick your sexy muscles, and you lick my sexy muscles,” he added, with a self-deprecating grin, even as the sexy muscles he spoke of gently blossomed all over Aiden’s hot, fine body. “And I want us to kiss and kiss and kiss, and then I want us to fuck each other again and again, and…”

Cam moved in for a deep and heart-thumping kiss. Desire was washing through him, and he kissed Aiden with a passion that was making him wonder if he could make it to his apartment, and whether taxi drivers minded if guys fucked in their cabs.

A loud cheer rose up from the rowdy sports queers watching one of the big screens. Someone had just scored some points against someone else, and any other night Cam would have cared who was playing and what the scores were. Right now, he was enjoying this kiss way too much. And when he felt the warmth of a hard, aroused, beautifully muscled body pressing against him from behind, the frisson of anxiety he felt course through him slid away just as quickly. He remembered his decision to say “fuck it” and smiled once more into their kiss.

He pulled back reluctantly, enjoying the sight of a kiss-drunk Aiden. “C’mon, babe,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Aiden grinned, and immediately turned and headed into the crowd, pulling Cam with him by the hand he had gripped in his. Cam smiled after him, watching his ass and the sexy shape of his back and legs, then he turned and looked over his shoulder at the other Aiden. “You coming?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Aiden said with a leer. With his kiss-swollen lips and loosened tie a little askew, he looked just a bit debauched and very, very sexy. Cam grinned invitingly at him. He moved to follow Cam, but instead of taking Cam’s other hand he grabbed Cam’s excellent butt as they navigated toward the front of the establishment.

Cam glanced back and down, catching sight of Aiden’s very long and very thick power tool tenting the middle of his right trouser leg. “You had better use a fuckton of lube with that thing,” he said, conveying the anxiety any guy would feel looking at that thing.

“Oh, I’ll make it good for you, Cam,” Aiden promised with a daunting smile.

“Cocky bastard,” Cam said, shaking his head. He cleared his way through the crowd after the other Aiden, while the new one followed close behind him, one hand still firmly gripping Cam’s hard, round butt-cheek.

In the morning, Cam would almost certainly face a lot of questions. He would definitely have to come up with a plausible way to explain how his supposed mindfuck abilities, as exhibited tonight under the influence of a double dose of Beck’s, somehow left Aiden in the cold light of day with two hot bodies, each equipped with massive, fourteen-inch monsterdicks.

Then Aiden’s hand slid into his jeans pocket as if it belonged there, and Cam sighed and gave himself a sort of inward shrug. Maybe the phrase “post-hypnotic suggestion” would come in handy. He’d figure it out.

Update posts:
Site Update: 22 September 2018

Flashback posts:
Saturday Flashback: Ruler-BustersSaturday Flashback: Serum and Sinew

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