Spa day 2125

by BRK   

Stressed out over his work and lack of purpose, Ryan hopes treating himself to a spa day will help him relax.

Boop. “Ryan! I need an updated E-T-A A-S-A-P on the K-Q-P a-p-p, okay, kiddo?”

Ryan suppressed a groan, not bothering to glance over at his boss’s unnervingly lifelike 6-inch-tall holo-avatar that had just rudely popped into full forced two-way mode holographic existence, audio sound effect and all, atop the chintzy black MicroAmazon UltraCollaborate 3D Plus worker-interaction disc that sat just out of eye-line on his desk. It was parked as unobtrusively as he could manage between his ceramic-skin 30-inch virtual monitor and the rocks glass he’d repurposed as a pencil can for spare styluses, a few Sunburst No-Crumbs pretzel sticks, and the odd actual pencil or three. He could still see it if he looked, and he didn’t want to look.

Like a dumbass, Ryan had tricked himself into thinking the new year would be peaches and roses and Annoying Carl would ease off, but it was two weeks into January and if anything the reverse was happening and Carl was digging in on all of his worst habits of micromanagement and tone-dissonant interactions. Like, say, popping without knocking (rude and illegal, not that the federal work privacy law was being enforced these days), or nagging on a project he didn’t understand (even a premium-sub WikiBot Explain2YourBrain temple-mounted knowledge enhancer would help this rockhead), or those stupid fucking acronyms (Yeah, F-U on that E-T-A). Oh, and the “a-p-p” kneeslapper (ha, and also, ha).

And the cherry on top, Annoying Carl even had the gall to be more fit than him. Sure, Ryan knew he couldn’t legitimately add this particular beef to his mental litany of Carolomisian work grievances, but he still held it against his boss that someone so loathsome was also kind of his fantasy.

Ryan himself was the trim and lanky type: dirty blond, just over average height, and naturally defined with a flat stomach and a silhouette he didn’t think was too objectionable. He’d been told he was handsome enough. His ramrod-straight, two-fingers-thick uncut cock topped out at just over 7 inches and had gotten a few favorable responses. People seemed to like his violet-blue eyes, which was the one genetic add-in his parents had splurged on to go with the required universal prenatal health panels.

Still… he’d never been able to suppress a craving to be a real hunk. The kind with the rippling muscles, devastating cheekbones, and commanding presence that made other, more ordinary guys have to guiltily adjust themselves just from thinking about them. And then here was Annoying Carl, effortlessly pulling off that very look. It wasn’t even a hack to his avatar, as Ryan knew from their one awkwardly one-sided in-person confab not long after hiring. Fuck, Ryan still beat off to the IRL memory of those smooth bulges pushing out Carl’s crisp white tailored shirt and thigh-hugging trousers, and the low-key dissonance of his getting off on the hotness of his dickhead boss cheesed him off more than anything else in his life.

The only thing that at all redeemed his current heartburn-inducing situation was the fact that Ryan had deliberately set his big blue mug of quick-pour savory-sweet chai directly onto the onyx-black UltraCol holoprojection disc (well, they did look like coasters)… with the result that his boss’s rock-steady six-inch simulacrum was standing chest-deep in delicious milky-brown brew.

Too bad it’s not hotter, Ryan thought. Aloud he said, “Carl, I told you. Tomorrow. E-O-D.” He was carried on typing, tracking the code he was adding in clear black text on the ceramic-emulating surface of his much-valued, slightly outdated nonlight-emitting visioscreen. “I’ll ping you a quick status update tonight, okay?”

Carl’s avatar grimaced. “E-mail,” Carl insisted. “S-O-P. Full status report by email, no later than oh-zero-hundred E-S-T.”

Ryan heroically kept himself from rolling his eyes. Email? Really? Okay, grandad. What a joke. Then again, maybe Carl liked email because it had a letter in it and he could pretend it was half acronym.

He was about to tell Carl he really needed to focus on work when he heard a poof, signaling the end of the call. Sure enough, his mug was now devoid of obnoxious overseers.

He blew out a breath, trying to purge the stress that had been keying him up all day, irregularly spiked by his terrible boss and his terrible job. I told myself I’d be a pirate when I grew up. Why couldn’t I have gone and become a pirate? Or a boy toy. That’d be nice. He stared hard at the line of code he’d just written. A red triangle glowered accusingly at him to one side of the code, flagging something incorrect about the syntax. Damn it!

Reluctantly, he picked up the Wikibot emitter from where it lay next to the rocks-glass pencil can and pressed it to his right temple, bracing himself for the mental interface.

It wasn’t the WikiBot itself that was the problem, or the way the device hooked up with his brain. He was used to that, and anyway all that microneural stuff had been pretty much perfected in the last fifty years or so. No, what he abhorred about using his WikiBot was the fact that his multinational, extremely profitable company, too cheap to spring for premium, had lumbered him with basic-level service. That meant he had to deal with all the user-specific 3D background advertising that came with basic, and because it was targeted it tended to get a little distracting.

Tapping the interface, Ryan gritted his teeth and concentrated on finding the correct syntax for the method he was using, doing his best to ignore the full-sized, half-naked muscle-man that had instantly appeared in the blurspace of his middle vision, just beyond his coding screen in the middle of the otherwise empty home-office-slash-spare-bedroom. (Embarrassingly, his condo, decent-sized and just short of upscale, was pretty much as devoid of things as when he’d moved in, thanks to the fact that Ryan basically had no life.)

“Are you stressed? Looking for release?” purred a well-trained male voice, the cadence seemingly linked to the virtual hunk rolling his shoulders and cricking his neck side to side in slow motion. A sucker for a brawny, well-sculpted chest and a pair of wide, bulging shoulders, Ryan couldn’t help following his seductive movements out of the corner of his eye.

Fuck you fuck you fuck you, Ryan thought at the ad, letting his attention become dangerously divided. Worse, because of the ad he was now hyperaware of the tension in his own shoulders, as well as how annoyed he was the digitally fabricated model was pretty much exactly what he wanted to look like in every way. Thanks to a sly subroutine, the targeted faker even had Ryan’s face, or a version of it…though naturally it was considerably upgraded from the version he saw in the mirror every day—

Ryan realized he was outright staring at the virtual Ryanhunk and looked away, cursing himself. If I looked like that, I could get out of this stupid job and just… be somebody’s boy toy, or something.

He snorted at the random thought. Lying around being sexy wasn’t exactly an avocation they’d talked about much on Career Day. Still, the acid in his stomach and the fluid motions of the aesthetically alluring model were conspiring to make a life like that, frankly, a lot more appealing than the one he had now.

Parameters. Attributes. Forcing his thoughts back to his job, he dug through the documentation, but he was unable to help himself from keeping tabs on the model. Fake!Ryanhunk was relaxing now, his shoulders lowering as detached hands gripped him and started massaging. “Book your fantasy massage at Passion Oak Spa today and become a happier, more relaxed version of yourself.” The virtual hunk was now lying face down on a massage table, strong hands working him over expertly. He looked positively serene. “We offer all the services you could imagine and more.” Now the hot trick-of-the-light guy was sitting in what looked like a steam room, his glistening muscles looking even beefier than before. There seemed to be a big bulge in his towel, too.

“Say ‘accept coupon’ now for 50 percent off our ‘ultimate transformation package’!”

Ryan glared at his work screen, resolutely not looking at the blissed-out, beefed-up muscle hottie relaxing in his nonexistent steam room. Ryan hated all advertising, and himself for succumbing to advertising, and, it was starting to seem like, everything and everyone. He could feel his long-suffering id talking the rest of him around. It wasn’t like he was going to spend his holiday bonus on anything useful or fun, after all. And if there was anything he needed, deep down, it was to become—well, that guy.

Keeping eyes fixed on the screen, he gritted out the words “Accept coupon.” Then, before the ad-voice could even finish cooing, “Good choice!” he ripped off his WikiBot and tossed it on the desk with a clatter. The ad and voice faded and disappeared, leaving him in silence and isolation.

Aggravated more than ever, he ripped off his ultrathin keyboard gloves and tossed them aside as well. His keyboard and screen vanished, leaving him with a plain white empty desk in a plain white room—a room he wanted to scream into, though he managed to hold the outburst in. He folded his hands in front of him on the desk surface and spent five minutes deliberately breathing in and out until he was at least manageably calm and the stomach pH had escaped the danger zone.

Finally, Ryan slowly and deliberately pulled the typing gloves on again, flexing each of his fingers in turn. The keyboard and the big ceramic visioscreen silently returned before him, solid and ready. With one last prophylactic exhale, Ryan returned to work.

The Passion Oak Spa occupied a single two-story building all on its own toward the less-traveled end of the downtown shopping district, sandwiched between an anonymous glass-and-steel ten-story office tower and a sleepy retro-menswear shop still holding on well past its mid-90s heyday. The spa building didn’t go out of its way to draw attention to itself, but as Ryan walked up the big window-sized posters of happy sexy men in innocent family-catalog situations gave off a reassuringly friendly vibe that also had lots of subtext—like a softcore all-male film masquerading as a lightweight family comedy.

The multi-layered sense of welcome was reinforced when he met the proprietor, who was loitering in the otherwise empty reception area as though Ryan were his only appointment that day. The stitched lettering on his raspberry polo read “James,” and, under that in smaller letters, “owner and massage therapist.”

As Ryan approached, James brazenly gave him a quick but thorough once-over before offering a hand and an eadearingly doofy laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ogle,” James said amiably. “Just planning our encounter!”

Ryan smiled warmly and returned the favor as they shook, if for less professional reasons. James repaid a good ogle: the 6-foot-4, exceptionally good-looking redhead had bright, twinkling eyes, a sleek, sharp jawline that could probably cut diamonds, and a blue-and-green Celtic-themed tat sleeve on one arm. Most impressively, the tall masseur rocked a rangy, narrow-waisted, well-built physique Ryan could only describe as “jacked.” Every part of him was carefully packed with muscle and sinew, as though he’d been designed to demonstrate how physically capable a man could be without being bulky or brutish, the union of beauty and strength.

Smitten at first sight, Ryan found himself letting the handshake go on a bit longer than usual, tantalized by the obvious strength in those hands and all the rest of him. Already Ryan’s obstreperous and generally untamable cock was plumping rapidly in James’s presence, thrilling at the thought of being vigorously palpated by this man. And that was without factoring in the “afterglow”—all the objective benefits of massage, sauna, and whatever further relaxational and mental rebuilding aids the “ultimate transformation package” he’d plumped for with his year-end bonus might entail.

Just being in James’s smiling, easygoing presence actually seemed to smooth out a few of the kinks in Ryan’s psyche, and when James rotated the clipboard on the reception counter toward him he made quick work of the forms. He didn’t even bother reading through the dense, confusingly worded waiver on the last page before signing it, impatient to place himself in the friendly masseur’s remarkable hands.

Soon he was installed in a sedate, moderately sized massage therapy room. Three of the walls made up of translucent panels lit softly from behind, the other an expanse of cedar, with a long, narrow rock garden at its foot studded with large, aromatic plants. Hidden speakers played the sounds of a waterfall, as though one might be found around a bend or two nearby. Ryan smiled as stripped to his gray boxer-briefs, hesitated, then removed these as well, laying himself down on the table naked and ready.

Entering the room a moment later, James laughed that reassuringly boyish laugh. “Eager for your remolding, Ryan?” he teased.

Ryan smiled happily as he settled his face into the requisite hole in the massage table and let the rest of him sink into the padding. “Absolutely,” he murmured. He was glad he’d done this. “Romolding” sounded like exactly what he needed. He was utterly sick of his life and who he was and the outside world in general, and was more than willing to entertain the fantasy that he might end this session a completely new man.

He was warm, comfortable, and slightly aroused, all of which was very okay with him. Under other circumstances he might have thought this a little weird. He’d never been buck naked in front of a complete stranger before, and being chubbed halfway to a full-blown hard-on in public would normally fill him with a sense of slimy humiliation. Everything about the spa, though, and James in particular seemed to be actively putting him at ease, and he was ready and willing to go with it.

“I want you to relax,” James said soothingly, moving closer. “Relax in body and in mind.” From the sounds of it, he was preparing something from a bench near the massage table as he spoke. “Let the oil sink into you,” he instructed a moment later, and then Ryan felt a slick substance redolent of forest and earth being slathered slowly across his back in generous quantities. At James’s actual touch Ryan’s dick quickly solidified under him, expanding to full erection, though so far all James was doing was gliding his hands over the surface of Ryan’s flesh as he spread the heavy-scented oil across Ryan’s back, neck, and arms.

The oil seemed to make his skin tingle pleasantly, and under its heady influence Ryan felt his troubled mind going gratifying numb. “That’s it,” James soothed. “Let the oil ease away all your stresses and bring your fantasies to the surface.” As he said this his hands moved down onto Ryan’s ass, oiling up the globes of his glutes and even sliding a slick finger all the way up the crack. Ryan shivered as the pad of James’s finger brushed across his anus, and his cock flexed responsively against the cushion.

Ryan giggled at the floor as James moved on to Ryan’s legs, oiling them up as thoroughly as the rest of him. “I’ve never gotten a full-body lube before,” he said.

James laughed, done with the legs, and Ryan rued the loss of his touch. “It’s not full-body quite yet,” James said, sounding amused. “But don’t worry about that now.” His hands reappeared on Ryan’s shoulders, now massaging gently, and Ryan suppressed a moan. “I want you to let the real Ryan free,” James said in a steady, calming voice that sank into Ryan even more than the scent of the oil and a reassuring ambiance. “Be the real Ryan,” he said. “Let loose who you want to be.”

Ryan was grateful for the muzzy state the strongly scented oil had put him in. It allowed him fully revel in the feel of James’s strong hands on his muscles, which felt cock-slut needy for James’s firm kneading. James worked each area in turn with practiced skill, and something more: an invigorating, cleansing force that drove deep into his flesh. He left every muscle group feeling stronger and more invigorated, moving on to do the same thing again to a new part of him. His traps, usually tight iron bands holding all of his stress and fury, seemed to flourish under his hands, blooming and swelling his happy pride; then he did the same for his delts, his aching neck, and his flanks, spending an untold amount of time working up and down his long lats until he was more aware of them and their elegant potency than ever before. Starting again at the top of his spine he massaged his way downward, elivening the muscles on either side until they felt reborn, until Ryan became aware James was massaging his well-oiled ass.

“Are you feeling it, Pretty Eyes?” he heard James say. Ryan’s brain was so saturated with soft, floaty pleasure and the effects of the tingly oil, he could barely process even such a simple question. “Are you letting your dream-Ryan free?”

Ryan was grinning inanely. “Fuck yeah,” he said.

James chuckled and worked his ass some more. The cheeky finger reappeared, for a moment indulging a certain ring-shaped muscle with its own brief but thorough massage. Ryan slid into a state of pure erotic gratification, hot with the feeling of being stronger and more substantial than he’d ever been.

He wasn’t even aware of James moving on to give his legs the same thorough treatment as the rest of him had gotten, though he knew, as he turned over on command, that the backs of his thighs and calves, like his shoulders, tris, lats, and ass, were thrumming with the effects of James’s powerful hands. He grinned happily up at James, thrilled to see him again and not even worried about the average-sized, very stiff erection pointing more or less directly at his new hero. It wasn’t a surprise—Ryan’s brain was too clogged with pleasure to worry about anything, really.

James was smiling as well. “You’re coming along very nicely,” he announced proudly as he began oiling up Ryan’s front, starting with his pecs and moving down (not neglecting a certain part of his anatomy that was rather more responsive than the rest). “Very nicely,” he repeated appraisingly, oiling Ryan’s legs and feet, then starting the massage proper again with his pecs. They responded immediately, as if they’d been waiting for his touch, and the electric feeling of his chest firming and strengthening shot through him, making his balls and cock shiver.

James met Ryan’s gaze, and Ryan loved the easy twinkly he saw there. “Handsome, too,” James said, with a crooked smirk. “Such nice eyes. I might just keep you for myself and not let you go,” he added with a wink. “I could use you for massage practice, all the time. How does that sound?”

Ryan’s whole body quivered at that, and his cock jumped with glee. The whole idea made something in him perfectly align, everything that was out of sync falling away to be left behind and forgotten. “Fine by me,” Ryan growled, still grinning. It felt like the most honest thing he’d ever said.

James nodded thoughtfully, holding Ryan’s gaze a moment. Then he smiled his happy smile and began working Ryan’s pecs a little harder than before, like he now had a more vested interest in the outcome of the proceedings. “Sounds like a plan,” he chuckled, moving out to his arms and giving his biceps as much extra attention as he had Ryan’s tingling pecs before moving on to his forearms and abs.

Ryan’s attention was starting to slip—there was too much pleasure and gratitude to fully register—but he did notice when James skipped his crotch area and did his thighs and lower legs instead. He smiled blearily. “Saving the best for last?” he teased.

James laughed his boyish laugh. “Oh, this is just the beginning, Pretty Eyes,” he said. “There’s not going to be a ‘last’ anything here.” Facing Ryan, he said, “Sit up for me.”

Ryan sat up, and even as he came almost face to face with the tall redhead he felt the man’s strong, slick hand wrap around his rigid cock. This time he did moan, rather loudly, and his cock jerked eagerly, responding to James’s touch as actively as the rest of him.

He looked down, wanting to see himself getting expertly jacked by this beautiful man, and saw that he didn’t quite recognize his own body. Every muscle had been strengthened, expanded, and perfected, as though his component parts had all somehow swollen to match (or in some cases surpass) his wildest hunk-body fantasies for himself. Some “parts” more than others, actually. He could barely see where James was stroking him off, thanks to the meaty thickness of his new, extremely potent-feeling pecs.

He looked back up at James, beaming drunkenly at him. “I look like a gym rat!” he enthused happily.

The gorgeous redhead leaned in, smiling fondly at Ryan. “Focus a little longer, Pretty Eyes,” he said, squeezing Ryan’s cock hard and making him gasp. “There are still more fantasies to release.” He leaned in and kissed Ryan.

Ryan responded eagerly, letting James in. When he did, that same tingling sense of massage and reinvigoration came over him from James’s tongue wrestling with his that he had from the other man’s hands on Ryan’s muscles. Though his mind was out of focus, filled with pure sensation, the idea of his tongue transforming, growing happier and more robust like all the rest of him (even his cock?), sparked like lightning through his arousal-numbed brain. In seconds he was rocketing along the edge of release.

James responded to Ryan’s surge of arousal, deepening the kiss and pistoning Ryan’s thickening, strengthening cock until Ryan was spattering long, high-pressure gouts of hot, wet cum all over his newly heavy chest and flat, chiseled abs.

James pulled back with a look of possessive satisfaction, smiling widely at Ryan. Ryan just gooned back at him. “Are you ready for the next phase of your ‘ultimate transformation’, Pretty Eyes?” he said, his voice soft and deep in a way that curled around Ryan’s heart and balls. He bent to look Ryan directly in the eyes. “I am going to make you all mine forever. If you’re okay with that,” he added with a wink.

Ryan just grinned stupidly back at him. He could imagine no better fate.

James showed Ryan into a large, simply-designed cedar-walled sauna and left him there to “finish things up.” Ryan was alone in the cube-like space, perched on the higher level of the long, two-tiered slatted wooden bench. After getting the steam going James had offered him a towel for his waist, but Ryan honestly didn’t see the point. He’d just finished blasting his chest and abs with a ton of cum and the subsequent giddy afterglow that was still sloshing through him like he was 70% orgasm instead of water—and yet Ryan remained hard as a rock, his wrist-thick 11-inch stiffie pointing at the far wall with unstoppable rigor and pure enthusiasm, like it was so jazzed over everything it might never go down. Ryan was fine with that.

He was still oily and cum-spattered as the air around him grew close and sultry, and the rise in humidity and temperature as steam wafted from the wood-framed heating unit in the corner was making him sweaty as well. Ryan liked it. The oil was still tingly all over where it had seeped under his skin, interacting with his thicker, denser muscles and rigid, super-strong, super-sensitive cock—actually his whole body seemed more sensitive, like James rubbing his shoulders or his lats or his ass again might make him blow another load just like that. His anus was craving James’s touch, and he didn’t doubt that a deft slide of a finger or something even better—he’d seen the stiff rod straining against the tall redhead’s white uniform trousers—would trigger a climax so strong it would melt Ryan’s already gloppy brain.

What he really wanted, though, was for his next load to explode somewhere deep inside James’s tall, rangy, altogether delicious body. Ryan’s cock was big and strong now for a reason, just like the rest of him, and that reason was to service his beautiful sexy, tattooed masseur.

He looked down at himself, reveling in his strong, squeezable pecs pushing out from his chest… his sweet, not-quite bulky upper arms… his sleek, thickly muscled legs and proud, 45-degree megatool… fuck, it was so, so hot. Precum pearled on his stone-hard slab, a testament to how amazing he found himself. His hunk-body fantasies from before all seemed so insubstantial by comparison. This was beyond anything.

He stared at that bead of wet precum, fascinated and capricious. He badly wanted to taste it, to wipe it all over his new, stronger and longer tongue with his finger—just like he wanted to grope himself and feel those huge pecs and heavy biceps and his new rock-hard eight-pack with eager, appreciative hands. But James’s hands were what mattered. They felt so amazing on him, making slippery sweet fire with every pass of his fingers and palms over his hard, heavy muscles, that there was almost no point in Ryan doing his own touches—any more than there was any reason to kiss his own forearm when he and James could make out for real, deeply and forcefully, their mouths melding into one.

As the steam billowed around his bigger, improved-all-over body, Ryan, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hardon almost brushing the bottoms of his pecs, started realizing the vapor was reacting somehow with the sheen of massage oil and his own sweat covering his body. Maybe there was something in the steam, or the stones that were helping to produce it, but felt to his woozy, still euphoria-intoxicated brain like his flesh was becoming stiffer. It still looked the same, but there was an increasing sense of thick plastic silicone to it. He leaned back slowly against the wall, watching the process overtake his increasingly silicone, humanlike body, and grinned wide with exhilaration. The changes are being made permanent, he told himself with an electric thrill. I’ll never not be a big, swole, ultra-sexy muscle hunk!

It only took the steam and the oil (and his transformed sweat) the balance of a half hour to fully transform him. He could still move, he could still think (at least, as much as he’d been able to since the bliss of the massage had started). He could walk and flex his muscles and, he was certain, cum like a volcano, because James was near and this was his space. Those were the only things still human about him. Well, that and the permanent, all-pervasive need for James’s presence, for his touch, and for James to make him orgasm, over and over again.

He knew all that because When James popped into the sauna not long after, a big friendly smile on his handsome face, all thoughts but deep, mutual hunk pleasure slipped free of his mind and vanished into nothingness. “Done cooking?” he joked.

Ryan stared up at him with pure lust. He was going to say something but the words died on his humanlike lips when he registered that James—sexy, well-built-but-not-as-muscle-hunky-as-Ryan James—was completely naked and rock-hard. By the time he’d processed that Jazmes was straddling his lap, Ryan’s huge, nearly footlong cock—had he still been growing a bit while he transformed, down to the final moment of silicone solidity?—rubbing along James’s crease.

James looked down into his eyes, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s bulky shoulders, his long, hard prick rubbing messily along Ryan’s abs. Ryan gulped. “Can I fuck you?” he rasped, glad the transformation still allowed him to speak—at least around James.

“You never need to ask,” James said, lowering into a kiss. At the same moment, he lifted his ass and pushed himself down onto Ryan’s thrill-ready, steel-hard meat.

Ryan moaned into the kiss, holding James as the masseur used his strong hands to maul Ryan’s back and shoulders. The fucking grow more aggressive, the two of them huffing and face to face, both of them sweaty and feeding off each other’s mounting lust. James grunted, fucking himself athletically on Ryan’s tool to maximize movement and sensation. Suddenly he yelled out, twisting violently around Ryan’s cock. There was a loud snap, and they were both cumming messily, huge quantities of cum erupting from both their cocks.

James sat back on Ryan’s thighs, away from Ryan’s crotch, gripping Ryan’s shoulders hard. Ryan stared at him, awed. He was still in James, and he was still cumming. They grinned at each other. I’m still cumming—in his ass—and yet…

James’s grin went crooked, and he gave Ryan’s heavy, artfully bulging traps a few strong kneads. “I thought something like that… might happen…” he panted, still spitting cum onto Ryan’s eight-inch-thick pecs. He huffed a few breaths as their orgasms continued, unwilling to tail off just yet. “You, uh, gonna want it back at some point?”

Ryan thought his eyes must be shining. He was still cumming! “At some point,” he answered roughly.

They made out for a long time, Ryan’s detached always-hard cock still shoved deep into James’s tight ass like it belonged there. Then it was time to clean up. Ryan learned he had an immobile, fully silicone form that James could convert him to if he wanted, which he used to playfully hose Ryan down under the high-pressure sprayer in back. It felt amazing. After that James closed up early for the day and took Ryan home in the trunk of his car. He was only restored to motion when they got home, and that was where Ryan stayed.

His life was so simple. Inside James’s house he was James’s realistic, self-aware, motion-and-speech-capable, super-sexy massage practice dummy (with a huge, secretly detachable permaboner). In that space he could cook, clean, and fuck, and, if he liked, drown in the pleasure of very realistic sensory memories of everything he and James had done together (the enjoyment of which only got better as their infinite time together progressed). Should he leave the house, he became James’s realistic, self-aware, immobile super-sexy massage practice dummy (with a huge, secretly detachable permaboner).

Ryan smiled a sexy silicone smile as he readied taco fixings for his lover while he showered, his thick pecs covered with cum from their latest orgasm. His cock twitched happily somewhere down the hall, once again buried deep in James’s ass. Better than being a hunk, he thought… or even a pirate.

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The expedition by BRK An archaeologist and his research assistant, joined at the last minute by a jock desperate to boost his GPA, embark on a preliminary exploration of a mysterious Aegean island. 16 parts 37k words Added Jul 2021 Updated 1 Oct 2022 24k views 4.9 stars (16 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Multicock•Multihead•Boytaur•Four Legs•Lots of Legs•Multiarm•Multileg•Multilimb•Three Legs•Multitongue•Replication•Stacking•Hyper Strength•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Always Shirtless•Increased Libido•Getting Taller•Giants•Plausible Size Difference•Size Decrease•Size Increase•Tongue Growth•Age Difference•Selfcest•Infectious•Merging•Shared Body•Centaurs•Pagan gods •M/M•M/M/M

Sudden changes by BRK Ike woke up with a too-big hard-on that won’t quit and a constant, building need to orgasm that didn’t subside even when he came. And none of that changed the fact that he had to go to work. How the heck would he deal with this? 2 parts 8,094 words Added Dec 2021 Updated 16 Apr 2022 19k views 4.9 stars (20 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Cock•Muscle Growth•Increased Libido•Voice Deepening•Getting Taller•Hair Growth/Getting Hairy•First Time/Virgin•Incest•Twins •M/M/M

Extremes by BRK Imagining yourself as being hotter, more hung, and possessed of extras sometimes is just a phase, but other times it can spiral to extremes. 2 parts 11k words Added Feb 2012 Updated 6 Oct 2018 28k views 4.8 stars (15 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Hyper Cum•Nipple Emissions•Extra digits•Multi-abs•Multicock•Multihead•Lots of Legs•Multiarm•Multileg•Multilimb•Multipec•Stacking•Detachable•Dildos/Toys •M/M

Compromised by BRK Ordered to recontain a damaged, wildly radioactive experiment, Warin experiences disaster when his state-of the-art hazmat suit is suddenly breached in mid-operation. 2,490 words Added Dec 2023 11k views 4.8 stars (9 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Ball Growth•Huge Cock•Hyper Cock•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Hyper Muscle•Hyper Strength•Immobility•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Public Nudity•Giants•Forced Growth•Size Increase•Nonconsensual change •M

The dudes by BRK The guys at school are really susceptible to suggestion—so much so that if you tell them something’s true, it turns out that it actually is true. 7 parts 16k words Added Mar 2010 Updated 2 Mar 2016 136k views 4.7 stars (55 votes) No comments yet •Always Hard•Cock Growth•Huge Balls•Huge Cock•Self-suck•Hyper Cum•Public Orgasm•Multi-abs•Straight to Gay•Muscle Growth•Muscle/Strength•Increased Libido•Getting Handsomer•Plausible Size Difference•Size Increase•Tongue Growth•Retcon•Suggestion•Brothers•Hyper Pheromones •t/t•t/t/t•t/t/t...