Taklon Transformed Man

Note: This is My Erotic Fiction, which means you cannot repost it without permission, that it may be illegal or immoral for you to read (so don't if it is), and that it is all made up.

Note 2: This is an experiment. I am writing a couple stories with a similar plot but wildly differing mechanisms. If I ever publish the other it will be called "SSI: Transformed Man".

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Introduction to the B'Naf'By.

The B'Naf'by are a grand and glorious race from near the center of the galaxy. To try to describe them does them a disservice- they are at the same time far too complicated for the human mind to comprehend and disgustingly ugly by any human standards. They are best known for gambling, although that is too mild a term for their massively complicated sports which have resulted in the loss of entire civilizations and at least one 'misplaced' sun.

The two B'Naf'by in most of these stories, Tak'Lon and Psat'Doo, have the task of monitoring a muddy rock in the Sol system. The Greater Galactic Council tasked the B'Naf'By with this task much as a human court might task a juvenile delinquent with community service. It is meant to be a humiliating task, a punishment, and a way to get a distasteful job taken care of at the same time.

To learn more about the B'Naf'By, consider reading the late, great Milton Frequetoast's celebrated tome "A Cross-Cultural Study of the B'Naf'Bian Empire from the Post-Carnivorous Period to Current Time, With a Special Focus on the Influence of Gambling on the Intergalactic Stock Market and the Subsequent Fall of the Golariandians."

However, since his tour de force work is long out of print, the thirster of knowledge might do well to get a copy of "So You've met A B'Naf'Bian! (Or, how to kiss your ass goodbye with dignity!)" at any local transgalactic tourist kiosk.

Tak'Lon- Transformed Man

Part One.

There was happiness aboard the good ship Lah-Lee-POP! as it sputtered along a dozen kliptons above the hideous blue planet with all those disgusting white vapor piles scattered haphazardly all over it. Tak'Lon was only too happy to be working on a project and not having to look at the vplootnik planet on the monitors any more.

He... well, technically, the B'Naf'By have multiple genders- 7 according to the most recent memo- and 'he' does not really apply, but it will do for our purposes- it is not wise to dwell too long on B'Naf'By biology. Anyway, he was having a great time. He and his partner (in the business sense. It would not be wise to even HINT that they were partners in any other sense), Psat'Dooo had managed to collect a human male specimen for the purposes of their next wager... er, scientific research project. The human was laying on a healing bed with most of his innards wide open to Tak'Lon's appreciative eye. 'It figures that these bloorsted creatures would put all the good looking stuff on the inside" he thought.

He had what looked exactly like a bricklayer's trowel and hawk (a small platform bricklayers use to hold some mortar on. You've seen it used in cartoons.) The hawk was piled with some tannish clearish yellow gently pulsing slime and Tak'Lon was using the trowel to scoop big globs of it and plopping it merrily in the poor human's body cavity. Occasionally Tak'Lon used one of his smaller manipulator appendages to shove some of the stuff in behind one organ or another. He was slapping it in so enthusiastically that a big glob landed on his 'face' and he lapped it up with a hideous smile and an even more hideous vaguely tongue-like appendage.

When the hawk was empty, he went to what looked for all the world like a typical 5-gallon bucket, although the label appeared to be moving and three-dimensional. A B'Naf'By to Human American English translator, if such a thing could possibly exist while holding both datasets in its mind without going mad, might translate the label to "Jocko's Amazing Wonder Metatissue (Version X754-932: 'Earth')! Satisfaction (untranslatable)! Made from only the finest human (untranslatable, thank God!) Refilling the hawk, he gleefully went back to slopping the stuff into the opening.

When most of the bucket was transferred into the body, Tak'Lon applied the tissue sealer. The edges did not come together neatly due to the mass of added material, so Tak'Lon just used his left forefoot and stomped it down so he could seal everything.

When Psat'Dooo passed by, he looked at the results as it lay on the healing table. "EEEEEEEK!" He shouted as he recoiled in terror. "What the schnaps is THAT?"

Thick globs of sheer joy dripped from the venom glands on Tak'Lon's lower forward mandibles. "This is the human masculine that we are going to use for the next bet... er... experiment!"

"But it looks so... so horrible!"

"They all look like that."

"But... he is even worse than usual. Look at the 'before' reference photo- he is roughly bilaterally symmetrical. That big bulge on the side of his cephalic chambers was not there, nor did he have that protrusion in his chest or that lump on the side. And where did his left lower appendage go?" Tak'Lon looked at the photos in question. The human on the bed was indeed lumpy and lopsided. Tak'Lon figured it made it more tolerable, but it was wrong. With a sigh he took the sealer and opened him up again. After a few minutes fiddling, including time taken to find the missing limb in the recycler hopper, he had the human back to a reasonable approximation of the photo. "Happy?"

"May the Great Bird of the Galaxy eat, digest, and defecate me if I could be any happier." Psat'Dooo replied ritualistically. "So, how much metatissue did you use?"

"About 16 gloops."

"That sounds wrong. Isn't that almost a full pail?" Tak'Lon nodded to the affirmative. "But, we were only going to use 4.5 minigloops per thunk of his weight. Doesn't that come out to only about two or three gloops?" Tak'Lon had eschewed the use of a calculator as being below his dignity, but when they found an old one and dusted it off, they found that Psat'Dooo was right- 2.4 gloops. Bloodsarned it!

They looked at the hapless human. "Oh well, what is done is done." Tak'Lon said as he pulled a big handle. There was a mighty flushing sound and the bed was empty. The two slithered off discussing ways to make the next shift more interesting.

Matt.. or was it Pat? Damn! How much had he drunk last night that he could not quite think of his name? Matt... that sounded right. Matt struggled out of his bed, ignoring the heavy feeling of his limbs- he'd felt THAT before when he drank some shit his roommate brought home one night- and hit the john. Puking, pissing, and taking a dump simultaneously made him feel a bit better so he weaved his way back to bed. He did not notice that the materials he excreted- even the urine- looked like some sort of evil clear soft-serve ice cream with gently glowing bits, or that it was slowly etching the porcelain of the toilet and sink. Fortunately, it dissolved into a thin liquid and drained away before it did any real damage.

Matt woke up feeling great. He leapt out of bed, pleased that he beat the alarm by half an hour. He hit the shower and felt the simple pleasure of soap and warm water sluicing off accumulated grime. He was so damned cheerful he we was actually singing! Brush his teeth, take his morning meds, shave... it took him a bit, but he noticed that he seems to have put on weight. A bit confused, he stepped on the scales. Surprisingly, the rather small guy that rarely broke 120 was at 160lbs. More oddly, he looked 'chunky'- a far cry from his usual skinny-assed geek looks. Just when he was starting to get really concerned about it, a tiny shock ran through his brain and he just shrugged it all off.

He got dressed, noting that everything seemed a bit snugger than usual and went off to work. When he got there, he ran into a shit storm and was in the office within seconds. An hour later, he drug what was left of his sorry ass to his workstation. Somehow, he had not shown up or called for a week! What the hell happened? He was so confused, and so scared for his job that he just robotically went through his day. What happened to the last week? He spent a good chunk of the day thinking that question over. He remembered that he took a long walk after Courtney shot him down when he asked her out for coffee... then... nothing until he woke up this morning.

As he worried at it, he started to get flashes. A bright light, some horrific alien looking thing, seeing his body cut wide open, throwing up... but none of it made sense. He rarely drank to excess, except for a period when his old college roommate would try to get him to try things. He still remembered the horror of the night he tried his roommate's version of the PanGalatic GargleBlaster- what a disaster that was!

Courtney. The cute co-worker on the floor above him. Why did he even ask? She was out of his league. By his calculations, approximately 99.999993% of human women were either out of his league or someone he would not be interested in, which leaves about 49 women in the entire world that may be a good match for him- and they apparently all lived in an enclosed conclave in New Zealand. But Courtney was nice to him, and they occasionally ate lunch together... well, he ate at the table that she and several others of their co-workers ate at... so for some reason his natural defenses were down and he asked.

The fact that she said 'no' is not what bothered him, and she was certainly polite about it. What really bothered him was the quick look of disgust that crossed her face when he asked. Another in a long, long, line of strikeouts. He shoulda asked Suzie. Suzie was even smaller than he was, and one of the few people he knew that were even shyer than he was. She was at the table most days as well. In fact, it was the mousy little thing was who had invited him to eat there in the first place. Damn- she even gave him her dessert on several occasions claiming she was full. When Courtney shot that look of disgust, he saw a look of hopeless despair on Suzie's face. He mighta had a shot with her and blew it!

Besides the memories of Courtney, he remembered he was walking through the park on his way home when... some sort of light? A sense of floating? Some sort of vague memory of laying on a table like an anatomic chart? His only clear memory was waking up this morning.

Things throughout the day confirmed that it was indeed a week later. A couple semi-polite reminders in his email bespoke of bills that did not get paid yet, and a pile of mail and newspapers outside his door was sort of the last nail in that coffin. Oddly, every time he felt rage or panic or anything over it, a quick tingle seemed to 'erase' the heat of the emotion. The fact that his clothes fit badly, and seemed to have gotten a bit worse over the long day was just the frosting on his day's shit cake.

On the next day of the rest of his life, Matt hopped out of bed, again full of rather revolting enthusiasm. He'd never been a morning person before and was vaguely disgusted by them- and now he was one. Even with his unexpected cheerfulness, things felt 'wrong' to him, so he hit the mirror. He gasped in surprise when he saw his brother in the reflection! Well, not quite. His older 'bro' was a good-looking guy- he was the guy in high school that was a jock, but was a good guy to boot and pretty much loved by all.

Matt looked like him, sort of. His skin was now clear and healthy looking, and his odd eyebrows finally had some shape. Normally, his eyes looked tired, and somehow unfocused. Now they were clear and sharp- and a brighter color, or what that just a trick of the light? The top of his head was a lot closer to the top of the mirror and everything in the small bathroom felt even smaller than usual.

Everything was 'off'- the cabinet door opened in an unfamiliar motion. His toothbrush felt small in his hand and mouth and he accidentally squeezed way more toothpaste than he meant to. Everything he touched seemed smaller and lighter. His clothes fit even worse than yesterday and a couple inches showed between the pants cuffs and his ankles. Based on measurements, he was now about 5'9" and now only 150lbs. He was three inches taller and 30lbs heavier than normal- although apparently, had converted 10 pounds of that weird weight to height. Taller, heavier, and better looking? Hardly anything to complain about, but very, very scary (tingle) worrisome (tingle) unusual but nothing to get excited over, right?

Work went as work often does. None of his co-workers really seemed to notice much different about him- but he did not interact with them much usually anyway- especially on the days he brought lunch- and today's lunch was a humdinger! Usually it was just a simple sandwich, chips, and piece of fruit. Today's was in a cloth shopping bag and was three sandwiches, piled high with stuff. It would have been more but he ran out of bread. A whole bag of chips, half a bunch of bananas and all the apples he had left, a block of cheese, and some other odds and ends. This was on top of his breakfast- finishing off the eggs and cereal, several slices of toast... he just could not quite seem to take the edge off his hunger today. After lunch, he even hit the vending machines a few times, and grabbed several meals from different fast food places on the way home.

After supper, he felt antsy. He cleaned his apartment, then felt an urge to just move. He went for a walk, which became a jog, then a trot, then out and out running for several blocks. It felt great! Alive, heart beating, muscles working, lungs sucking air! He felt wonderful! He only stopped because the already snug shorts he was wearing tore almost in half!

He popped into a nearby thrift store and got a quick outfit several sizes larger than he was used to wearing and went to get something to eat. A couple hours later, he left having eaten literally a table-load of food and flirting shamelessly with the kind of cute waitress, who seemed to be flirting right back at him. Amazing! He whistled as he jogged back home, grabbing a jug of milk and some other groceries en route.

The next morning he knew things were different again. He felt his weight in the bed, felt the power in his muscles as they moved just a little, and felt his length taking up so much more of the bed than before. When he looked at himself, he saw a god-like physique carved out of solid bronze. That triggered a memory and he called up a cover from the books he enjoyed as a kid- Doc Savage. He looked a little like the original covers, with a face like half Doc's, half his own and half Ron Ely from the lamentable movie in the mid-70's- saving the best of all three. He was now 6'9" and weighed 225! As an experiment, he tried to pick up his refrigerator, and hefted it to the ceiling without effort. That was what- 200lbs or so, and it felt like a toy!

He stripped off the tight boxers that had been so loose the day before and looked with joyful awe at his new 8"-when-limp cock! Yes! He was so happy that 'it' grew too! A couple quick strokes and it reared itself up to a majestic 10" long and too big for even his enlarged hand to barely wrap around, with big balls hanging beneath. It felt wonderful and sensitive. He stepped in the shower and jacked himself off until he blew a big wad against the shower wall with a loud 'thwack!' 'Like a boss!' he thought smugly.

"What the hell am I going to wear?" He said out loud, startled by his new bass voice. He spoke some more just to hear himself speak and was amazed at how it rumbled in his chest. There seemed to be an odd harmonic to it as well, a bit of vibration that just made it feel really good to talk. His closet held a pretty basic selection of clothes. He was used to shopping just barely outside of the boys department and nothing in there would fit his newly sculpted bod. He struggled into the 'much larger than usual' clothes he bought yesterday. Looking in the mirror, he looked like a joke- the clothes were skin-tight and he could see the muscles of his ass through the stretched clothes. It was all he had, so it would have to do.

He tried to wrap himself in a coat as well, but it just did not fit over his massive shoulders and he tore his favorite jacket as he tried. Oh well, said a small tingle in his brain. He went back to the thrift store just down the block figuring he would score enough to get him by for a bit. He tried hard to ignore the stares he got from staff and customers. The men were bad enough- they would pretend to not look but he could see their shoulders slump a bit and notice that they tried to stay out of his aisle. Women though just plain stared. Some could not seem to close their mouths, and he saw lots of popped nipples.

His cock started to stir, which, considering how tight his shorts were anyway and that he was going commando, would have been a really embarrassing thing. He quickly grabbed a few things and ducked in a changing room. it did not take him long to realize that he had mis-guessed his new sizes rather badly. He was preparing to go out for more when someone knocked on the door. "Sir? You may want to try these. I think they are more your size." He opened the door and an arm shoved several things into the small room.

He tried them on, and lo and behold- they fit! Now that he was wearing some jeans and a polo that fit him, he dared leave the small room to see a smiling sales person in her ugly uniform polo outside the room. She was a cute brunette that looked barely old enough to have graduated high school and was petite enough that he felt he could break her by just laying his arm on her shoulders. "Thank you. The fit nicely- how did you know what size?"

She introduced herself as Cheryl and told him that she had a brother almost his size that she helped find clothes for. She naturally asked why he was dressed so badly, and guessed that he lost his luggage, and that someone else usually bought his clothes? He thought it was a rather thin story but had no better explanations, so went with it. She subtly asked if he was still with whoever used to get his clothes, and he gave a vague 'not really' kind of answer which made her nipples even more obvious and he smelled an interesting muskiness in the air. He also would have sworn he felt her skin grow warmer somehow. Odd. Really really (tingle) perfectly normal to be able to instantly gauge someone's temperatures and even how their hormones are moving, right?

She was aroused, and he KNEW it! That triggered his own arousal, and soon he was very visible in the slightly used and kind of thin jeans without underwear. The smell of his sweat changed too, and her arousal shot up as she began to pant very lightly and her breasts seemed to swell just a bit as a slight blush swept over her face and chest. She was shifting ever so slightly as she stood and looked so damned cute that he just HAD to kiss her!

Oh, God! THAT did it! She jumped up on him and wrapped her arms and legs around him as it felt like she was trying to suck his soul out! Her mound was covered in several layers of materials, but his cock still felt its warm softness as she dry-humped him and began to whine.

He took her into a changing room and somehow their clothes vanished without conscious thought as she knelt down before his massive fuckstick in awe. She reverently tried to suck it the best her small mouth could, which felt pretty incredible to Matt. Before he came, she shifted her posture and presented her pretty tight ass to him. Now, Matt had NEVER been in a situation like this, and have NEVER done it 'doggy style', but some deep instinct took over and he was soon plowing her like he was born to the job, like John Henry driving a different kind of steel.

Huge, mighty thrusts that moved her soul each time. He began to sing- "John HENry TOLD his CAPtain that a MAN ain't NOTHing BUT a MAN and BEFORE I LET that STEAm drill BEAT me I"M gonna DIE with a HAMmer IN my HAND lord LORD..." Thrusting like a god-dammed steam-driven power hammer fuck machine with each beat. She felt herself changing inside, needing him more and more with each powerful blow. She was pounded into the wall with each mighty thrust leaving a head-sized dent in the drywall. All she could do was grunt and hold onto her sanity as she came and came and came, squirting for the first time in her life and flooding both of them.