Nothing much changed for Perry for a few weeks–all he had to do was live his life. He went to the gym, and then came home to his apartment, and every day that passed, more and more of Perrion disappeared from his mind. He couldn’t even remember what he’d seen in him at all, or why they had been dating–as far as he could recall, he’d always been Perry, and he had always been alone. So, when he woke up one morning to discover he wasn’t alone anymore, he had a sinking, terrifying sense of deja vu, that he had woken up like this before, with a relative stranger, and last time…he hadn’t been the one who’d survived.
“What ya waitin’ for man?” the stranger said, as he got out of the bed on the other side “We gotta get tah the gym, right?”
Perry couldn’t respond, he was simply in awe of him. He was massive, whoever he was, and Perry was hardly small. He looked like someone who had been taking steroids for years–or the synth shit even stronger than that. His shoulders were nearly as wide as a doorframe, and he struggled a bit when he bent over and grabbed an electric blue slip of spandex from the floor, gave it a stretch and stepped into it. He turned, and gave Perry a look at his groin, and that was somehow worse.
His cock–it didn’t even look much like a cock anymore, really. It had been pumped full of so much silicone that it just looked like some monstrous, fleshy bulge, his ball sack a single massive wad of the stuff, larger than a basketball. With some effort, he managed to squeeze it into the spandex, which turned out to be a singlet that barely fit on his huge frame. The static was there, dulling the horror bit by bit, but Perry held onto it as long as he could. This…this wasn’t right, this was fucking disgusting. Still, the man, his boyfriend who just went by PJ, got him into a matching singlet from his side of the floor, and they headed to the gym, stopping by the locker room first, so he could get his injection. He wanted to be as big as his boyfriend, right? Or even bigger?
Everyone stared at PJ at the gym, and Perry stared along with them, but it was no longer disgust–it was jealousy. PJ was the center of attention, no matter where he went, always. His massive, unnatural frame and his huge bulge took care of that, and Perry found himself disappearing into the background. That was good though, right? He shouldn’t…want that, should he? But when they got home, and PJ told him it was time for his silicone injection, he got…excited. It hurt, but it was going to be worth it, he could tell.
Everyday, he seemed to get larger, and every day, he felt like his brain was getting smaller and smaller. PJ was a man of simplicity–working out, injections, protein, and TV were the only interests he had, and as Perry followed him through their life, he found his own focus shrinking and shifting as well. It was paying off though–people were starting to pay attention to him too. Together, they were even more freakish than apart, a perfect pair of muscle freaks for the entire world to gawk at. Perry couldn’t recall the last time he’d worn something that wasn’t spandex, he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t had to turn his whole body to the side in order to look behind him, he couldn’t remember what it felt like to hold his cock with one hand.
That was one thing neither he, nor Perry, could really handle well–was the horniness. The synth steroid made them ragingly horny, but with their monstrous cocks, jacking off was…a struggle .PJ didn’t even seem interested in playing with his now useless cock at all–instead, he rode toys all afternoon long, often on VR cam so men on the internet could watch him bounce on them like a total slut, and Perry was joining in before too long. They could rake in so much money doing some ass-to-ass action with their massive double dildo, two muscle freaks pounding their holes into oblivion until they both reached massive anal orgasm together.
They were merging again–Perry could sense it. He couldn’t keep track of who he was anymore, if he was Perry or PJ, and so, to make things easy, they decided they both should go by PJ, together. They were so in sync–PJ felt like his boyfriend was almost inside of him, more like an imaginary friend than a real person. Then, he wasn’t real anymore, and PJ was alone. It made things harder, injecting himself, and his cam shows weren’t as exciting with just him on them, but that was alright. He was happy after all, he loved being a muscle freak, and now, he knew for sure that no matter where he went, everyone’s eyes were on him, and only him.
Trax couldn’t have been happier with the result, and he had to admit, watching PJ whore himself out on cam in VR over and over again had been a great thing for him to watch, but he felt like one more round was needed to finish him off. After all, while it had been fun manipulating Perrion in the office before, this new man wasn’t going to be working in an office at all. No–he needed a different sort of vocation, he thought, and one more copy to train him for a new life ought to help.
So, what’s our final stage going to be here?
- PJ works as a stripper and a whore
- PJ becomes a skinhead gangs brute and sex pig
- PJ becomes an old perverts live in sex toy
Polls close in 48 hours!