Tags: MC, MF, MD, GR
Synopsis: A man is Transformed into nearly a superman.
Note: "My Erotic Fiction", which means you cannot copy or repost it, it may be illegal or immoral for you to read, and it is not based on anything real.
Note 2: Thanks to the fan who asked for a story involving Jack meeting a person from his past life!
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Chapter 1. The Unveiling
"OK, you can open your eyes now Mr. Phillips."
I had been waiting for Ms. Pink to give the OK, and here it was. I opened my eyes and stared at the amazing man in the mirror. He was tall—nearly seven feet and well-built, muscular without being muscle bound, and in his late twenties or so. He was also devilishly handsome. Best of all... he was me!
Just a few weeks ago I was a 5′ 6″ 38 year-old spindly nebbish with a raft of related health issues—asthma, allergies and more. Then I answered a question on a popular Q&A site, a question pertaining to solving a specific engineering feat with very restrictive parameters. The same poster asked a few more questions and apparently liked my answers because I got invited to a more exclusive forum where I earned points for participation.
After a while, I got invited to ever more private areas of ever more private sites, slipping deeper into the so-called 'dark web' and discovered the SSI—the Secret Sexlabs, Inc.—a shadowy group of people that pooled their research towards the goal of having more and better sex. That was a goal I could get behind! I became a general-purpose troubleshooter and brainstormer for them.
Most members were geniuses in some field or another, but when they needed more general help, or an ear to bounce ideas off of, the 'lay members' of the group, like me, did what we could. After all, a mid-level researcher at a top secret government drug lab could not very well ask their house tech staff about the best way to make up a covert spray gun that could deliver a precise dose of a specific drug into the face of an unknowing victim, could he? Even if he did, they probably would not have thought of loading the drug into the squeaker of a cute stuffed animal. I hear the intended victim actually dosed herself playing with it!
One cool benefit of belonging to the group was that we could earn points towards various procedures and products—like redeeming game points! So many points got you a simple will-suppressing spray. A few more got you pills that induced breast growth. For a larger number yet, you could get a screensaver or MP3 files that basically programmed the user. They had a lot of choices and I made mine.
I wanted a rather expensive package, so I spent years gaining points—answering questions, doing research trials, working on off-line research, doing crowd-sourced scut work (one involved looking at dozens of photo of millions of tiny yellowish dots and tagging those that were a little less yellow.) The longer I was with the group, the easier it was to earn points, so over the years it really added up. Sure, I was tempted a few times—I almost blew a bunch of points on an exciting weekend with a hot actress that the SSI had control over and who would be in my town for a while.
But, no, I stuck to my plan. So here I was, in front of a mirror, posing and flexing my new, powerful body. I appreciated the subtle changes to my face—it was still me in a real sense, but not the 'me' I was used to seeing. Strong chin, clear bronze-tanned skin, something done to my unruly and graying hair that made it look great! I even really liked what I was seeing in my tight trunks. I could just look at myself forev...
"Ahem." Ms. Pink cleared her throat. She had been my initial contact back when I submitted my application and points. She conducted the initial evaluations and preparations, and even sat in on some really embarrassing counseling sessions. We talked a lot about Captain America and my desire for a version of his Super Soldier Serum. We talked about my interest in the classic Doc Savage. We talked about some of the more advanced options I wanted as well.
When I reported for an extended stay three weeks ago, she is the one that led me through everything, introduced me to other guests, and showed me to my room. She was there helping remove the stretchy mesh clothing I wore coming out of the nanite tank, and helped wash the residue away. And yet, I knew almost nothing about her. It was almost like she was a construct instead of a real person. No real figure showed through her business attire. Her androgynous young face had no signs of make-up. She wore her dark hair in a tight bun and had a cultured, neutral voice. She has smiled and even laughed on rare occasions, but even then did not reveal much of a personality. Still, she wanted my attention and got it.
"The rest of the night is yours. You can order supper at your convenience or join the others in the lounge, play games, join in on a class or two, or whatever you want. Your work day starts at seven in the morning. Details and your schedule are on your tablet. Remember, Phase II starts in a week and a half. Good night." With that, she was gone. Her remark about the 'others' startled me, but it turns out there were other guys here (women were in a different building). Some were going through transformations of their own, others were here for a sort of 'basic training workout' program, etc.
Supper sounded good. I dialed up a meal and took a learning lab module. One of the perks of being here is access to an incredible variety of special learning modules. I took a 'learning pill' (a mild hypnotic that made the nearly subliminal lessons take more deeply), opened the class site, settled the headphones in place, and basically went to sleep learning about current global events, national economic issues, and introduction to music theory.
The time flew by. Physical workouts were apparently designed by sadistic physical therapists with advanced SEAL training—everywhere I went I had to carry something heavy and awkward, like a brick or a bucket of sand in each hand, or a log, dufflebag filled with rice and shot, or whatever their evil minds came up with. On the last couple days it was actually young women that I had to carry and who had permission to tease me relentlessly.
We also could not sit if we could stand, or walk if we could run. I ate breakfast and lunch in the gym doing a nasty exercise called a 'wall sit' or literally on the run while doing other things. My old self would have been dead after the first fifteen minutes! I was soon pushing damn close to a half-ton on the bench and able to do a hundred-yard sprint in under eleven seconds. Not world class, but far better than the 'little twerp' that struggled carrying groceries up the stairs.
The scheduled classes were intense as well, covering things like flirting, sexuality (including some really fun hands-on anatomy lessons), dancing, fine foods, literature appreciation, and even stuff like wilderness skills—usually taught while we were jogging in the nearby scrubby foothills. We had open times and spent some of it in old-fashioned gripe and grumble sessions (there were rules against asking why we were here, etc., but we found plenty of things to talk about), some of it practicing our new-found skills, and a lot of it trying to catch up on things like taking naps, email, and showers.
Oddly enough, none of us really felt much in the way of arousal, depression, anger, etc. We suspected that our moods were being manipulated, but did not care much... which, in hindsight, was probably another sign of manipulation. I mean, here I was with a brand new body, including a spanking new horse cock, and I never took it for a test drive during this period!
Chapter 2. Phase II
This time, when I woke up, I hurt. I felt like I had spent a night lying on a rock pile being pounded by big angry guys with big socks full of big bars of soap. My throat, groin, and armpits burned and itched. My mind was fuzzy and my mouth was full of cotton. I could see Ms. Pink looking down at me as she settled some headphones and goggles in place. "Everything is coming along nicely, Mr. Phillips. You will feel better soon." Then darkness again.
The alarm made a tiny clicking noise, preparing to go off, so I beat it into submission and bounded out of bed. "What a god-dammed GLORIOUS morning!" I roared. I strode into the bathroom and pissed so hard it made the water boil. I hopped in the shower and quickly cleaned myself, taking special care of 'old faithful'—soaping it to full, slightly larger than yesterday 10″ erection, relishing its thick, heavy length. I jacked myself until I made a conscious thought to climax and smiled when my spend thwacked solidly against the shower wall—'Like a boss', I thought to myself, smiling. The scent of my usual bath products bothered me so I made a mental note to switch to something less... tawdry. I checked myself out in the mirror and rejoiced at my great new bod! The workouts and Phase II combined to make it something special, and after all, I deserved it!
I glanced at the checklist they gave me. Yep—both the enhanced genitalia and confidence pack were properly installed and working perfectly! I felt like I could do ANYTHING! I recited some things from a cheat sheet, enjoying the deeper rumble in my chest that my voice carried now—several steps lower and more compelling. The mic on the tablet 'listened' to me and reported that the 'command voice' sub-harmonics were working perfectly.
Next, I popped off a couple dozen effortless push-ups and wiped some of my sweat with a cotton pad, which I dropped in a small container and left by the door. I sped-read a book while waiting. My tablet soon chimed that the tests on the pheromones in my sweat passed as well. Phase II was complete and I was almost ready to go home.
I waited for whatever was going to happen next, and was I ever surprised!
My door opened and Ms. Pink entered, although it looked a little like she was pushed. "M... M... Mr. Phillips. How are you feeling?" She was blushing and looked nervous.
"I'm fine. How are you? You look troubled. Can I help?" I said.
"NO!" She said rather sharply, then shook her head. "Er... I mean, no. Thank you for asking."
"Why don't you come and sit down. Let me get you some tea." She had been standing in the hall by the door, but came in and sat in her usual place—a rather uncomfortable stool. "Please, have a seat on the couch. It's a lot more comfortable." She moved with an odd reluctance. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
