Curtis was running late. He left the door to the apartment he shared with Denise, his girlfriend of three years, almost at a run, and rushed through the city streets, bobbing and weaving his way toward the subway station. His boss was going to kill him. This would be the third time in the past month he’d be rolling into the office at least fifteen minutes late. Although Mr. Carbine didn’t seem to notice much else, he did manage to keep track of every minute “lost” when members of his team were not where he wanted them to be. Curtis didn’t want to be fired from his first real job in the city. Although he hated it, but it was a step in the right direction—no need to burn your bridges, however shoddy they happened to be.
Clutching his backpack, he made it to the stairs of the station, only to notice a commotion gathered at the top of the steps. A small group of people were milling about. Half of them seemed to be commuters, fidgeting in place as they answered questions being directed at them by tall, imposing figures dressed in dark grey uniforms Curtis didn’t recognize. His heart sank as he imagined being caught up in some sort of inquiry, having to stand and deliver answers about something he knew nothing about. He slowed his approach and tried to inch past the throng to make it to the stairs.
“You there,” said a statuesque woman in silver sunglasses.
Curtis rounded to face her, “Yes, officer?” he managed as politely as possible, trying not to grind his teeth.
“Captain,” she corrected him. He searched her clothing and could see no insignia that might have designated rank: it was just plain; well tailored; dark. “Bound Uptown?” she asked, scrutinizing him from behind her shades, and checking something on a metal clipboard she was holding.
“Carry on,” she said, and stepped aside.
What a relief, Curtis thought bounding down the stairs and passing through the turnstile. Still more people were being detained on the platform, by additional impassive, grey-suited captains; or officers; whatever. Many of them seemed to be in heated discussion. A woman was screaming at one of the suits, saying that she had a very important meeting to attend, and that she had to be there on time.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re going to need to hold you for questioning just a little while longer. It’s a matter of security.”
The woman threw her briefcase down to the floor in disgust, just as the train pulled in to the station—and here was another oddity: the train itself was only half sized, three cars long. Those who had been cleared to board by the authorities crowded close to the doors and piled in with haste as soon as they opened. No one wanted to take the chance of being held back by the stern forces in grey. They boarded, and caught sight of the anxious and excluded through the windows, trying to push past the barrier of outstretched grey-jacketed arms. The chimes sounded and the doors closed.
Aware of just how odd and worrisome the event he had just walked through was, Curtis was still far more relieved to be on the train than concerned about the what, why, and who of whatever it was he had just waltzed through at 8:45 in the morning. He checked his watch. Yes, it was 8:45. He might just make it in by ten past. That would almost certainly gain him a stern look of reproach, but not a talking in Carbine’s office. He un-slung his backpack and sat down as the train started to move.
Looking around, taking stock of his fellow travelers—those who had slipped past the barricade for whatever reason—it began to dawn on him that the car was full of men. All men, and primarily dressed for work, except for a skater boy leaning up against the doors and a couple of students with their noses already tilted down into text books. There were maybe fifteen of them in all, and not one of them could have been over forty. Strange, Curtis thought. Young males are usually the first demographic to get pinned for anything. He started to wonder if there had been some kind of baby snatching incident: a woman gone mad and absconding with children not her own. Or perhaps an elderly crime ring getting busted for smuggling drugs through the subway. He laughed a little to himself. Everyone else kept their stoic silence.
The train pulled into the next station. The doors opened with their bell, and a single man boarded. Outside, the platform was empty. The lights were dimmed to emergency settings, and there was no sign of another soul in attendance. The chimes sounded, the doors closed, and the new man sat down, across from Curtis. And what a man! Curtis had never seen a guy so big before in front of him, not even at the gym. He was only about five foot ten, but was as thick and heavy as a refrigerator. His clothes had obviously been tailored to fit him, because no regular trousers would have contained the massive trunks of his legs, which he splayed out before him as he slumped back into his seat, letting his massive arms fall to his sides. The dark skin of his forearms showed a light dusting of black hair across their surface from the rolled up cuffs of his shirt, a shirt which barely contained the straining heft of his pectorals and the round caps of his deltoids. Curtis stared openly in spite of himself. The mans face was handsome: strong jaw; high cheekbones; dark eyes that seemed a little glazed, like he wasn’t quite focused on what was going on immediately around him. When he caught Curtis starting at him, he cocked a saucy grin and brought his hand to the crotch of his trousers—the very hefty bulge—and started to rub it suggestively.
Curtis blushed and turned his head away. The whole thing was too absurd. This whole day was too absurd. And now he was sitting across from some genetic freak who thought he was coming on to him. He kept his eyes focused on the skater boy learning nonchalantly up against the subway doors, watching the lights of the tunnel pass… but Curtis could feel the hairs on his arms beginning to stand on end, and his pulse began to quicken. What was going on?
“Hey, boy,” he heard the hulk of a man whisper across to him. His speech was thick, husky and low. Curtis turned back to look.
The man had unbuttoned his shirt to let his pecs out into the open. Two huge, dark brown nipples stood at attention as he thumbed and pinched them erect between his fingers. The sight of those pert, rubbery nubs sitting out on the vast, round cleavage of muscle suddenly made Curtis’s mouth water, and he felt his dick stir in his pants.
He shook his head. What was this? It was like some kind of nightmare; but he couldn’t stop looking. “You like me boy,” came the slow words from the muscle man, “you like this?” and he reached down to unbutton and zip down the front of his trousers. There wasn’t any underwear containing the massive shlong that fell out over the edge of the seat. It was huge. The shaft itself was big enough around that it would have taken two hands to hold it properly, and crowned with a big, purple, mushroom capped head. The man reached lower to pull out two heavy, low hanging balls free behind it, and then started to flop his meat this way and that while still playing with his nipples with his other hand and licking his lips.
Curtis didn’t know what was going on in his head. Every portion of good sense told him that this was absurd and offensive, that he wasn’t even gay, and that he should be getting up and pressing the emergency button, or escaping to a different car, but instead he found himself coming forward, dropping down on his knees in front of the oversized Adonis, crawling forward to put hands on either side of massive quads, to look at the semi-hard cock that was slowly pumping full of blood. It was engorging, straightening, coming to stand straight out from a bed of neatly trimmed pubic hair. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the train hadn’t stopped for its last stop, that it was still moving, that something was wrong.
“Kiss it,” the man moaned, taking his hand away to focus his attention on his nipples.
Heart pounding in his throat, Curtis extended his tongue and licked up the base of the rock-hard shaft. It trembled under his touch, and when he got to the head, a clear, sticky rivulet of precum had already started to leak from it. Curtis swirled his tongue through the warm liquid and then took as much of the head inot his mouth as he could. The taste was ambrosia. It was salt. It was spice. It was sex. As soon as it got into him his whole body warmed, pricked up; his own penis grew instantly hard, and he wanted to drop his hips low to the surface of the car to grind himself into the surface of the floor. But he couldn’t if he wanted to stay with his lips attached to that beautiful prick—and he did; he did want to stay, and he sucked down on it, gaining more and more of that spicy precum down his throat. He could feel the shaft of it pulsing under his lips, and he wrapped his hands around its base to help him milk the massive organ. He closed his eyes. The more of the man’s fluid he ingested the hornier he became, and he started to feel an intense weight in his own cock, as it filled out in his pants, as it started to feel as if it were going to burst through the fabric into open air.
And then it did, more or less. His cock had been actually growing with each swallow of the man’s musky precum. The head of his phallus pushed up and out beyond the waistband of his trousers, and he could feel the air on it. He could feel a slimy line of his own excited fluid leaking against his belly. He reached down with one hand to unpop the button and fee it completely, pull his underwear down bellow his balls… his bigger, heavier balls.
“What the fuck?” It was the skater boy, who had come to stand beside the two men locked in the act of fellatio; but the exclamation wasn’t one of outrage, it was one of almost awe. Curtis disengaged reluctantly and sat back on his heels to look at the boy, maybe eighteen years old, baseball cap pulled around back. Curtis started to stroke his now definitely larger dick, oozing its own precum, and smiled at him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s fucking amazing.”
Without another word, the skater dropped his board and fell to his knees, sliding over to the muscle mans towering prick to take it into his mouth. All around the three of them, the rest of the men on the train had gathered. Not one of them was moving to stop it, instead all stood transfixed, and most starting to stimulate themselves through their pants, or even bring themselves right out to start jacking off right there on the moving train. The students over by the window had started making out, and had their hands thrust down each others pants.
Meanwhile Adonis, as Curtis had begun to think of him, had stripped his clothing off completely, and had his legs braced in the air so the skater kid could tongue his dark, puckered hole. “Ugh, it’s warm,” the kid managed to say between mouthfuls. “It tastes amazing.” Curtis came forward to tug the loose jeans off the hips of the kid and buried his own face into that ass, sliding his tongue in as far as it would go. The boy moaned.
Things moved quickly after that, even as the train continued to travel without stopping. Clothing was shed, and all the men began taking turns with one another, kissing and sucking and rimming. Anyone who took a turn with their lips around Adonis’ prick and be rewarded with the taste of his enhancing fluid, and seemed to grow disproportionately larger themselves. Soon the dicks of the attendants all-round were bigger, longer, fuller, which lead to a new tide of excitement. Finally, Curtis found himself with his back to Adonis, and his massive tool, still by far the largest in the room, pressed up against his anus, lubing it up with that constant faucet of slick discharge. Curtis slid his hips back and forth against it, and then, with barely any warning, Adonis pushed. The well-lubed giant slid half-way in. Curtis screamed. “Don’t worry boy,” Adonis whispered in his ear, “you’ll like it soon.” And gave him another little torque which sent it further in. Curtis furiously pumped his own now monster cock: big, heavy and turgid, letting it slap up against his belly, and then grabbing it in his hand. He found he relaxed fairly quickly, weather because of the special properties of his lover or his overwhelming excitement, but the next thing he knew he had his hands braced on a couple of rails and was forcing himself back onto the biggest piece of equipment he had ever seen. Pleasure racked his body. His nipples stood up sharp and erect, every nerve ending seemed to be on fire. He wanted more. He pushed back. He clenched around it. He milked the cock with his ass as best he could; and as he did, his muscles swelled. He watched as his biceps expanded, felt as his shoulders pumped out around his collarbone. His pecs swelled out in the front of his chest. He could feel the strength of his glutes increasing, rounding out, his legs becoming more solid and weighty beneath him. He roared in ecstasy as he felt Adonis’ member buck and fire within him. Slowly, he pulled out with a soft sucking sound. Curtis turned around and found hands from all sides reaching out to touch his newly broadened form, caress the creases between his abs, sliding hands around the new full globes of his ass and sticking a finger or two in to stimulate his hole.
“We’re going to fuck them all,” Adonis said, turning around and spreading his ass cheeks to show his dark, puckered asshole. “But first, fuck me.”
When the train finally stopped, all the men inside the car with Curtis and Adonis had been completely transformed. Barely resembling the average physical specimens they had been before the intervention of the mysterious, sex-crazed stranger, they were all taller, broader, and heavy with well defined muscle. Not on the scale of their instigator, but definitely far and above the average man. They were also naked, having shucked their clothes during the ensuing orgy. The entire group of them hand drifted apart into groups of threes and fours, still lazily involved in coitus, sucking and playing with one another, having lost whatever cares they might have had before becoming infused with an insatiable libido. Curtis was back with Adonis himself and the now husky skater boy, bouncing his perfectly round ass on the shaft of his prick while he ate out Adonis’ ass. He was dimly aware that the train came to a halt and that the doors had opened. He pulled his face from between the cleft of Adonis’ rear to look.
A new man stood near the end of the car: tall, dirty blonde and beautiful. He was dressed in loose fitting cotton drawstring pants and a white cashmere sweater. His painfully perfect physique showed through his clothing in suggestive lines. An outline of his semi-hard monster cock was clearly visible through the thin material of his pants. He stood at the end of the car, surveying the scene with a smile on his face.
“I want all you men to line up down the center isle,” he said in a deep baritone, and started to undo the drawstring of his pants. Without a word, the men disengaged from their fornications to do as the newcomer said. Curtis didn’t, but watched mystified as the skater boy pulled himself off Curtis’ cock to comply and stand dutifully in line.
Meanwhile, Adonis had slumped into a seat by a window humming pleasantly to himself and running his hands all over his body and down in between his legs, still just as blissed out by his own body has he had been at the beginning of this escapade.
One by one, the blonde beauty came up behind each of the men in line, and slid the giant purple head of his long, curved, uncut cock into the ass in front of him, fucked it for a short time and then pounded hard a few quick bursts to shoot a load deep into the recipient. He penetrated each guy with obvious pleasure and the effect was always the same: the already enhanced physiques of the men on the train changed again as the load shot home, swelling outward, becoming more epic, just like Adonis: ponderous pecs; thick, corded quads; riveted abs; arms too large to wrap your hands around. Each of them grunted and quivered in pleasure as it happened, and as the blonde stud disengaged and moved down the line, each used recipient fell back to his neighbour, caressing and fondling the others, resuming their sexual congress with a lazy intensity.
Curtis especially enjoyed watching the unbridled lust fill the eyes of his no-longer-so-little skater boy as his full transformation took effect, as he doubled in size and braced himself with his now gargantuan thighs to fuck himself back against his transformer, jacking his cock until it began to spew long, clean ropes of cum down to the floor of the train. Then he pulled away to lay up against one of the subway poles and closed his eyes with a contented smile on his face.
Curtis had never felt so dominated by sex in his entire life. Every inch of him, every corner of his mind seemed to be enthralled by it. He couldn’t get enough of seeing it, doing it. On some level he knew that there was something wrong with this, but he didn’t care, nor did he care if he would ever return to the way he had been before.
The blonde man finally stood before him. “You didn’t do what I told you to do,” he said.
“No,” Curtis answered. “I didn’t fell the need. They seemed to though,” he indicated the others still rolling about on the floor.
“They’re Epsilon. They’ll do whatever I tell them to do. Like Jeff here,” he said, motioning to Adonis. Jeff looked at the tall blonde and almost purred deep in his throat. “It looks like you’re Alpha, like me. I’m Merck.”
“Curtis.” Merck bent forward and kissed Curtis, deep and wet and long.
“Pleased to meet you Curtis.”
“What’s going to happen to me?”
“Oh, there are plans. First, you should let me fuck you to finish the transformation.”
“I’m not going to lose my brain like the others?” he asked dubiously, looking down at the tangle of man flesh, busy only with itself, obviously not one of them thinking of anything but sensation.
“No. For you it will just be a little bit of perfecting, a little more refinement. You’ll be like me. We’re supposed to be the directors, the ones the others have to follow. It’s bound in their blood now, and it’s part of what we are.”
Curtis stood and wrapped his arms around Merck’s neck, hoisting his legs around Merck’s hips, and angling the head of the immense prick against his hole. “And then what?” he asked, lowering himself down onto the shaft, feeling it press against his prostate, warming his insides as he threw his head back in rapture.
“Then we all go back to the Laboratory,” Merck whispered into his ear, starting a long, slow fucking motion from his hips. “And we starting working on the next phase of the Plan.”
“Argh. The Plan?” Curtis managed to say.
“Yes,” answered Merck, thrusting hard, and Curtis could feel the cum jetting inside him, Merck’s cock convulsing against his sphincter, and then his body changing again, inside and out. Any questions he had left were erased as he convulsed in orgasm. “The Plan.”