Description The alternate reality was constructed so the guys fell within broad parameters. Except they were a little skewed toward the exceptional. And something in the software seemed to like outliers...
|Updated||27 Jul 2011|
Justin was woken from a sound sleep by his cellphone ringing. Normally he might have drowsed through it and let it go to voicemail. But when he realized which ringtone it was – the dramatic opening chords of Beethoven’s Fifth – his eyes sprang open and his hand was blundering around the night table until it came back holding his vibrating, insistently ringing iPhone.
He rolled on his back and stared for a second at the caller id. It said simply, “Alt-World.”
His heart pounding, he thumbed “Accept” and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said uncertainly.
A voice he didn’t recognize, filtered and mechanical sounding but on a connection that was so free of static as to be eerie, replied with an equally uncertain, “Hello?”
Justin hesitated. He realized he had no idea how to talk to whoever was calling him. “Who’s this?” he said finally.
“This is Lawrence. Who’s this?” Justin’s mouth dropped open. Lawrence was a character inside Alt-World.
And it wasn’t just that the software man Lawrence was calling him – he sounded, what, afraid? Upset? Justin tried to figure out what kind of emotion was being attached to this communication. He could sense there was definitely emotion – which was a lot more than what he’d expected when he’d installed the freeware CommSim module he’d downloaded into the Alt-World life simulation program he’d been secretly developing.
The module was just supposed to run a subroutine to alert him by phone if any of the characters within the simulation were experiencing distress. He’d expected that an automated voice, like a robo-caller or a voice-mail menu, would just vocally let him know there was something he needed to check on in the sim. What the specs hadn’t said was that the CommSim module would involve one of the characters seeming to call him.
Lawrence’s curious/frustrated “Hello?” startled him out of his reverie. He realized he’d kept his “caller” waiting. Who programmed this mod? “Hello, Lawrence,” he said, “this is Justin Perez. Are you calling to report a problem?”
As he said this Justin pulled the covers aside and got out of bed, barely aware that he was naked – there was no one to see, he had the house all to himself for the whole summer – and started padding toward the guest room he’d turned into the launch pad for his software experiments.
Lawrence now hesitated himself, and by the time he spoke again Justin was sitting in front of his hybrid workstation and was flipping on the array of flatscreen monitors across the long side wall. “I guess so. I mean, it’s not really a problem problem, but – this is the Help Line, right?”
Justin raised his eyebrows. “Y-yes, that’s right. How can I help?” At the same time, he pulled up the Locate window on the monitor in front of him and typed “Lawrence.” He was trying to remember which character he was – there were over five thousand men in the town he’d set up in Alt-World, and while they all had unique first names most of them had been created automatically according to parameter ranges he’d specified. He’d been watching a few as case studies, but he didn’t remember Lawrence.
“Well, I just – I feel like a freak, and I don’t know how to deal with it.”
Justin frowned. He feels like a freak? Had he really set up Alt-World with that level of self-assessment? All the coding he’d done had been geared toward interpersonal relationships, not internal feelings.
He realized the kid thought he was calling a crisis line. He tried to slip into hotline volunteer mode – “What’s making you feel that way?” – while watching the nearest big flatscreen where Lawrence’s environment was rapidly rendering.
“I just – I don’t look like anyone else, and I – ” Meanwhile the rendering completed, and Justin saw what he meant. An involuntary “shit” escaped him, and Lawrence paused and said, “Excuse me?”
In setting up the parameters for the automatic generation of characters, Justin had specified a number of ranges. For example, for age, Justin had specified a range of 15 to 35 – he wanted children to develop naturally inside the sim and see how it changed things, rather than having them present from the start. Lawrence, according to the readouts displaying alongside the 3D image of the character sitting at the desk in his bedroom talking on his cellphone, was 18. The room was dark – the only light was moonlight streaming in from the window behind the desk.
But Justin wasn’t staring at his age. By some freak occurrence of probability – or, perhaps, a coding mechanism buried in the software core system he’d bought and adapted that made sure to throw out outliers within statistical samples – Lawrence had pegged at the far extreme of every parameter. And Justin had had some … fun with the parameters.
The first was height. Justin had set a range starting at 5 foot 6, but – and he remembered grinning as he entered it – he’d set an upward range of 8 foot 6. Justin was 8 foot 6.
He’d also set a range on muscle mass as a function of height. Normally, ideal weight ranged from 2 to 4 times the height in inches. So he’d set the bottom of the range at 2h. But, just for fun, he’d set the top at 5h. Lawrence had pegged out there too. His weight read at 510 pounds – all of it muscle. (The range on body fat was set between 3%—the male physiological minimum – and an average/fit value of 15%. Lawrence was at 3%.) Sitting at his ordinary sized desk, in the bedroom of a suburban house no unlike the one Justin was sitting in, Lawrence looked like a giant in the land of normal-sized folk.
Lawrence was naked – he probably had trouble finding clothes that fit him, Justin mused. From this perspective it looked like most of that muscle mass was in his pecs, shoulders, and upper arms, tapering down to a tiny waist—though everything below the desk was shrouded in darkness. Without his even realizing it, Justin started to get aroused as he looked over this impossible physique.
“Are you still there?” Lawrence was saying. Justin was watching him speak – it was a real-time display. He started zooming in from the room-wide view, and Lawrence started filling his monitor.
“Y-yes, yes,” Justin stammered. “I’m here.” He was barely able to respond as he finished zooming on a close-up of the character’s face and he realized just how good-looking Lawrence was. After months of trial and error Justin had come up with some algorithms that allowed him to quantify beauty for the purposes of the sim. For fun he’d set it up according to the old 1 to 10 scale made famous in the movie “10.” He’d set up a range in the sim starting at 5 and, not knowing what he’d get, set an upper range of 14.
Lawrence was a 14. As far as Justin could tell, suddenly realizing his condition, 14 meant “automatic boner.”
Lawrence was still talking, and Justin was having trouble listening. “ – like no one ever really listens to what I’m saying, because they’re always staring at me, or feeling me up without even realizing it,” he was saying. “At least I don’t have to worry about that with you,” he added.
“Right,” Justin said automatically. His eyes drifted to Lawrence’s cell phone – it looked oddly small in Lawrence’s giant hands. Justin had to concentrate to find a question, his achingly hard boner demanding the attention of his hands. “Do you think people don’t respect what you’re saying?”
“I think they just – they get distracted by – my looks. And my size,” Lawrence added with a shade of embarrassment. “I’m, like, huge. Really huge. And – um, you know. Everywhere.”
Hearing him say this made Justin’s boner, impossibly, harder and more insistent. His eyes flicked to the readouts to the right and he suppressed a gasp. Justin had originally set a bottom range for boner length at the average of 6 inches, but then he’d upped it to 7, forgetting that he was already starting the bar high with the real-world average. And he’d set the top of the range to 16 inches.
Then changed it to 20.
Then changed it to 24.
Lawrence had a 24-inch cock. And as for girth – he’d started the bar at the real-world average of 5 inches, and the top, sort of arbitrarily, at 10 inches. Lawrence was at 10 inches around. Justin did the quick calculation in his head – that was over three inches across. The size of a large bagel.
Lawrence was waiting for a response. “That must be hard – I mean, difficult,” Justin corrected himself. Fortunately Lawrence smiled, making himself even more heart-stoppingly gorgeous in the process.
Justin’s free left hand was already wrapped around his own cock. He didn’t even remember putting it there. He quickly zoomed out so he could see all Lawrence again, but under the desk it was almost completely dark. Justin fiddled with the visibility controls, adjusting the picture’s brightness up a couple percentage points. Fuck, there it was, sticking straight out of his lap. It was flaccid – or mostly flaccid – but even so it was still a good foot and a half long, and at nearly its full girth. Justin stared at the monster cock, actively stroking himself, wishing he could stroke what he was looking at.
Lawrence, meanwhile, was frowning, looking up at the ceiling lamp overhead, then peering closely at his (currently off) desk lamp. Shit, Justin thought – I didn’t turn up the brightness on the monitor – I turned up the room brightness in the sim!
But Lawrence was now looking out the window with interest – he was evidently deciding the moon had come out from behind a cloud. “Yeah, it is difficult,” he said, not seeming a little more comfortable talking now that he’d broached the topic of his size. “And it does get ‘hard,’ too. All the time. I mean, fuck, I’m still a teenager, and all the guys at my college are like either ordinarily good looking or totally fucking hot, and they’re all staring at me and touching me all day, and lately they’ve started insisting on kissing me whenever I’m on the campus bus to class, and so my boner is like the thing everyone knows about me – I have to wear it sticking up under my shirt in case it gets hard, and fuck, when it gets hard, it’s like pushing past these fucking dodge balls I got on my chest and out of my tee shirt collar, and this cheer goes up whenever it happens – ”
Justin realized that Lawrence was turning himself on. Like Justin, his free right hand had strayed to his growing cock.
“It sounds like you have a lot to – enjoy – about being the way you are,” Justin said, his voice sounding a little raspy in his own ears.
“Yeah,” Lawrence said a little absently. “Yeah, it’s really hot.” Justin was now all the way hard, and it was strange and deeply erotic for Justin to see how one hand wasn’t nearly enough for the 10x24 monster cock. “But – ” he seemed to be struggling to remember why he’d called. “But – no one takes me seriously. I’m really smart, but people just can’t listen when I’m talking to them. And … there are other drawbacks as well,” he added, clearly frustrated at the inadequacy of his one-handed stroking.
“You need more hands,” Justin breathed, his cock firmly in control of his brain now.
“Fuck yeah,” Lawrence said. “That would help a lot.”
Without even thinking about what he was doing Justin said, “Allow me,” and started pulling up a component of the body matrix modules that he had written but hadn’t dared activate before.
“Dude,” Lawrence was laughing, “if you can give me more hands to stroke with I will personally come to your house and fuck you with my monster – ”
And then, in the space between one second and the next, Lawrence’s magnificent shoulders became broader and thicker, and from each side two looong, supermuscled armed were jostling each other, instantly finding the erotic sensation of front triceps rubbing against rear biceps, and even as Lawrence gaped at his new configuration he was so fully aroused that his three free paws all were wrapped around his impossibly hard pole just a single heartbeat later.
“Duuude,” Lawrence whispered. “Am I dreaming?”
Justin was close to coming, and Lawrence, now stroking three-handed and agog at what he was doing, already seemed close as well. “You called the helpline, right?” Justin gasped. “We can ‘help’ in lots of different ways.”
“Fuck – ” Lawrence said abruptly, and Justin realized they were both about to cum. Suddenly Lawrence’s two-foot-long rock-hard monster exploded with cum, spraying a huge amount of white-hot jizz all over the floor in the middle of the room, and watching him Justin came as well, covering his own torso with cum – and then Lawrence came again, harder, shooting a gallon of cum across the room with an audible splat.
Lawrence and Justin both collapsed, heaving, in their chairs.
“Thanks, man,” Lawrence said, panting. “I never had phone sex with a help line before.” He grinned.
“Heh, I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Lawrence was watching he three stroking hands gently massaging his still mostly-hard cock. “Dude, I so want to stay like this,” he said. “But – ”
“Relax,” said Justin, who now felt committed. No way was he dialing back this hot young man’s incredible bod! “I can ‘help’ with that too. No one will think having four arms is unusual or weird.”
“Wow. Really?” Lawrence said. “I’m kind of afraid of being an even bigger freak, but the idea of giving these up – ”
“I’ll fix it.”
“And – the other thing?” Lawrence added, as if afraid of pressing his luck.
“That too. I’ll make sure people will listen to you and not just see you as a sex god.”
Lawrence actually laughed. “That would be the real dream come true, honestly. Um, Justin?”
“Yeah, Lawrence?” Justin was enjoying the feeling of being covered in cum, and imagining it was Lawrence’s.
“Can I – call you again sometime? I have a feeling I’m going to have questions when I can think straight again.”
Justin, for the first time in several minutes, remembered that Lawrence was just software. Or was he? “I don’t know if I can answer them very well. But as for calling – I hope you do.”
“Good night, Justin.”
“Good night. Sleep well.”
Justin watched Lawrence end the call and set down his phone and, as Justin did the same, Lawrence now was clearly please to bring all four hands to bear on his rapidly reexpanding cock. Justin watched for a while, but his mind drifted. He now had a new priority, one that stripped aside all his unfinished goals and to-dos on this project.
Nothing else mattered. Somehow, he had to get inside Alt-World.
Justin couldn’t sleep. He lay in his bed, his cock stiff in his slow-stroking hand, his mind on the impossibly hot artificial man he’d just made even hotter with a few clicks of his mouse. Young Lawrence had said he’d felt like a “freak” thanks to his statistically maxed-out size and beauty. But Justin had tweaked those ranges pretty high for the whole community of 5,000 men he’d created in Alt-World.
How much of a freak was Lawrence really?
He visualized Lawrence walking (nude) through the streets of New York, striding through the business-suited professionals and tee-shirted tourists. At 8 foot 6 he’d be not only a head taller than everyone, but head-and-chest taller. Even the 6-foot-tall guys would only come up to the bottoms of his shoulder blades; and normal guys at the average American male height of 5’10” would be standing in the shadow of Lawrence’s huge spherical pecs, needing to looking up to see his wide, downward-pointing nips. But what was “normal” in Alt-World?
Justin sighed and climbed out of bed again and returned to his computer room, his hefty hard-on bobbing in front of him. Sitting down naked in the chair for the second time that night, he realized that the main monitor was still trained on Lawrence. The angle in Lawrence’s largish bedroom had shifted: the young muscle god was no longer at his desk, but lying on his big 9-foot-long bed atop the sheets, his hard 24x10 cock being gently stroked by Lawrence’s four big hands, the fist-sized cockhead drooling right into the deep cleavage between his enormous pecs. Lawrence’s eyes were closed at his gorgeous, heartbeat-accelerating face looked totally at peace: was he slowly jerking himself off in his sleep? Justin realized he was fisting his own big cock with his strong left hand. Lawrence’s literally off-the-scale beauty instilled an automatic nonstop revving up of Justin’s libido even when he was just looking at him over a video connection.
God, what would it be like in person? Could he even stand it? Would his fuses blow? The guys in Alt-World might be more conditioned to deal with the everyday fact of Lawrence and others close to his level of unnaturally potent erotic power, but if Justin realized his new dream of entering Alt-World himself, how would he fare? Justin could imagine being so overcome with unslakable arousal, standing before this mesmerizing beauty, that he passed out, unable to process the erotic overstimulation. He’d have to find some way to counteract this – unless the ability to deal with the conditions he’d built into the Alt-World human environment was a given to any avatar he created and inserted himself into.
Still stroking himself, without really paying attention to his ministrations, Justin turned to the interactive software monitor and started digging through the built-in modules to find the one that would show him statistical population distribution for the parameters he was interested in. When he pulled it up he gasped and fell back in his chair.
The “fun” he’d had with the ranges had produced a rather startling population.
He’d been aware that the system would use a normalized distribution, or bell curve, in assigning the various attributes of the five thousand citizens of his little town. But then he’d set the bottom ranges of many of his parameters more toward the normal real-world average than where they’d truly be at the bottom of a bell curve. So, for example, an age range of 15 to 35 meant that five out of six guys in Alt-World were in their 20s. Lawrence’s former high school, it turned out, only had about 200 students.
But what really stunned him were the other indices. His just-as-a-joke height range of 5’6” to 8’6” meant that the “average” guy in Alt-World was 7 feet tall! Not only that, but this 25-year-old hypothetical average dude, mentally impressive an I.Q. of 135 and (he knew from the programming) idealized problem-solving and imagination capabilities, was also an outstanding physical specimen in every way: he’d been set up with 320 pounds of muscle with 9% body fat. Fuck.
Justin did some googling and, scrawling some figures on pencil and paper with his free hand, determined that a 7-foot-tall guy in real life, without muscle training would probably be around 220. The average guy in his artificial world had a hundred pounds of extra muscle, the difference between a fitness model and a bodybuilder – only he knew it wasn’t gym-pounded muscle, but firm, natural development. It was just the way boys normally grew up in this world.
Justin knew that part of the programming for setting up these sim characters was a backstory that would serve them as memories. So they must think of puberty as the time when their muscles just start to expand naturally and their pecs and shoulders and arms start outgrowing their boyhood shirts. Fuck, what must Lawrence’s puberty have been like? He must have been huge and buff even before he’d started changing.
Then Justin scrolled down to the next set of statistics and nearly came, his heart pounding madly. This mythical average guy in Alt-World had a 15 and a half inch boner. And it wasn’t just long, it was thick – 7 and a half inches around. That was nearly 2 and a half inches across. That was a hell of a cock.
Just to bring the point home, Justin realized that the average guy in his Alt-World was a 9 and a half on the “10” scale. The average guy was nearly a perfect beauty. Justin glanced at the main viewing flatscreen where his new friend was still in a trancelike state of self-enjoyment, slowly four-handing himself. No wonder Lawrence was getting turned on by everyone at school.
Suddenly, flicking his eyes back to the statistics screen, Justin noticed for the first time a column all the way on the right: Percent change since launch. And there were numbers along the physical attributes. Since he’d fully launched his Alt-World sim scenario and the sim characters had started operating independently only one week ago, the average weight had increased 0.49%! Shit, these guys weren’t just huge, they were gaining muscle! At that rate (Justin scribbled some more numbers) the average Alt-Worlder would gain another hundred pounds in the next year!
And (Justin’s mouth was hanging open) the same growth rate carried down all the physical attributes, except for height, which was growing at half that rate, and cock size, which was growing a bit faster. They were all growing bigger and better. In another year, the average guy would by 8 feet tall with a 23 inch cock! And Lawrence – his growth rate was an outlier, just like everything else about him – in another year he’d be 11 feet tall and 850 densely muscled pounds, with a 50-inch cock!
Justin returned his gaze to the dreaming Lawrence on the screen and tried imagining him two and a half feet taller and even more muscular. He realized he could adjust his view to these actual parameters. Rapidly, panting, he keyed the numbers in and hit enter – and Lawrence just blew up. His body boomed into unreal proportions in the space of a heartbeat, overflowing what had been a 9-foot-long bed so that at 11 feet his body made the bed look ridiculously small. His already huge pecs ballooned to beach ball size, and with the moonlight still streaming in the window they were casting a black shadow over his incredibly hard eight-pack and unnaturally narrow waist – or would have if his four-foot-plus-long, six-inch-wide cock weren’t in the way. The huge log topped out not at mid-chest, anymore, but right over Lawrence’s face, the streaming precum pouring into Lawrence’s open mouth.
Justin, now pounding his own overboned cock, watched Lawrence’s four-handed pace quicken on his colossal pole, his gaze drifting to the surging sweat-slicked overgrown biceps and triceps of Lawrence’s four long, beautiful arms or his massive, precum-wet heaving pecs only to be pulled uncontrollably back to the almost man-sized cock, and suddenly Justin couldn’t endure another second without cumming. And even as his cock burst with the second huge orgasm of the night, Lawrence’s soccer-ball testicles contracted and Lawrence orgasmed so powerfully Justin swore he could feel it, a wave of intense ecstasy, and Justin came again, harder, ropes of cum lashing his face, even as Lawrence launched a massive spray of cum over his head at the wall behind him, a fire-hose spray so intense Justin wondered if it would blast a hole in the wall, followed quickly by another, Lawrence roaring in a deep, guttural voice that seemed to vibrate through the speakers and shake up everything in Justin’s computer room – and Justin, impossibly, came again, somehow newly filled with cum only to loose it all over his face and chest.
Lawrence and Justin both took a long time coming down from their amp-on-11 orgasms, both huffing and red-faced, their cocks somehow still hard and thick in their hands – Justin realized he’d added his right hand to his stroking at some point.
Then Lawrence opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t change me back,” he said, loudly and clearly. “Please.”
Justin stared at the screen, his cock jumping in his hands.
He wanted to talk back to Lawrence, but he wasn’t sure how. At a loss, he took his right hand off his cock and, almost randomly, pulled up on the software screen the first means of talking back to Lawrence directly within Alt-World that he could think of – he pulled up the module that created street signs and other similar displays.
Lawrence spoke again: “I’m guessing you can hear me even without the phone. And see me. Am I right?”
Flipping through the touchscreen controls rapidly Justin had set up a template for a standard rectangular traffic sign and positioned it to display in Lawrence’s room in front of the now too-small bed. Using this template he created a sign that said, “YES. I COULD NOT RESIST. SORRY.” and executed the module. The sign manifested in Lawrence’s room. He sat up to read it, his slowly softening cock descending away from the direct upright, and laughed.
“I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s cool sharing this with someone.”
Justin took away the sign and created a new one that said, “I WANTED TO SEE WHAT YOU’D LOOK LIKE IN A YEAR.”
Lawrence nodded. “So you know we’re all growing. Did you set that up?”
Justin quickly swapped in a new sign. “NO, I DON’T THINK SO. I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S CAUSING IT.”
Lawrence paused to consider. “Maybe I can find out for you, on this end.”
Justin hesitated a second, then bit the bullet. “LAWRENCE, DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?”
The young ubergod glanced down at his newly enlarged body. “I’m guessing from the way you can change me, and how big and hot everyone is, that we’re inside some artificial environment.” Lawrence cocked his head, causing his longer brown hair to shift onto his mountainous shoulders. “I’ve suspected for a while. I read a lot, and all the books in the library describe things we don’t have here, like diseases and old people. And all he guys in the anatomy texts are tiny!”
Justin smiled with his new friend, but he was still nervous about Lawrence’s acceptance of his alternate world. After a second he swapped in a sign that said: “ARE YOU OKAY WITH THAT?”
Lawrence laughed again. “Are you kidding?” he said. “I know why you’re worried, but – look at me! I feel – not just real, but beyond real!”
“I swear. And I swear I don’t want to go back to how I was last night.”
“YOU SAID THAT EVEN AT THAT SIZE YOU FELT LIKE A FREAK.”
Lawrence ran his four big hands along his half-hard cock, which was now lying bloated and obscene between Lawrence’s massively muscled legs, still over three feet long and proportionately thicker than any cock Justin had ever seen. As Lawrence stroked it it jumped, threatening to get hard again. Lawrence said seriously, “I don’t care. I don’t know if I can explain. It’s like – just having a body like this is like being close to cumming. I love it.”
Justin zoomed in on Lawrence’s beautiful face, trying to look him in the eyes. He seemed utterly sincere. “ARE YOU SURE?”
“Yeah. Of course, if you want, you can set it up so I’m not, you know, the only one…”
Justin’s cock, which had softened just a bit, suddenly hardened in his hand. He was seized with a beautiful idea. Grinning to himself, he started flicking through several new modules and in a few seconds’ time he was able to set what he’d done to execute immediately.
Lawrence watched quizzically as first the sign vanished without being replaced, then, abruptly, the size of his bed jumped from 6 x 9 to a huge 13 x 13 – fortunately Lawrence’s room was plenty spacious to accommodate the new furniture. Lawrence smiled at the extra room – then he gasped. The other side of the bed was occupied by another huge young man, sitting up in the bed, his four muscle arms stroking his expanding monster cock, his bright eyes gleaming back at him in delight – he was staring at (he immediately recognized) his identical twin brother Laurence.
Both boys, unable to resist each other, leaned in for a kiss. After a few moments, their bodies already intertwined, they broke their make-out to shout in unison, “Thank you!”
Justin glanced at the time display on the monitor and realized with a start that it was almost 7 a.m. – he had to get ready for his day job. He quickly posted a new sign. “YOU’RE WELCOME. I HAVE TO GO NOW BUT I’LL BE BACK TO CHECK ON YOU LATER.”
“Wait – ” said Lawrence. “ – When will we actually meet you?” said the twin.
Justin instantly came again, much to his surprise as he’d forgotten he was still stroking his cock, and still quite copiously, as if he hadn’t cum in days. When he recovered a few seconds later he posted a new sign, timed to vanish after a moment: “SOON.”
The twins grinned and returned to their play, and Justin forced himself to get up before he became enthralled watching them. He hurried through a quick shower, amused to find drying cum in his hair as well as all over his face and torso, and, toweling off hurriedly, ran into his bedroom to dress. As he pulled on his favorite dress shirt, though, he suddenly became aware of an unexpected problem: it wouldn’t button across the chest.
He glanced up at the mirror on the inside of the closet door and gasped. The body it showed him was not the one he’d seen in it yesterday.
He was bigger.