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Ken Doll Scotty
|The new parlor game swept the country. Only the relatively wealthy, those with the most sophisticated equipment, could affort to play, but it grew so popular so quickly that consortiums formed among friends to pool their resources and buy the equipment. There were two versions. One was just called “Ken,” and the other, “Barbie.”
No one cared about how it worked. It just did. The bio-chemical breakthroughs that had led to creating ideal gene factories out of normal men and women had inevitably led to other, more experimental uses. It had become possible to create super-warrior soldiers out of any guy and have an army of single-minded behemoths of muscle to tackle any enemy. Women to distract the most focused men could be turned out with a few computer clicks and simple injections. Physical transformations of all kinds became routine, if usually difficult to come by except through very tight channels. But eventually, and inevitably, those who wanted to play with science found the means to do it, and the games were invented.
All Scotty knew, because there was more rumor than fact in the jail he’d been in for six months since he’d been arrested two days after his 18th birthday knocking over a liquor store with his buddy Alan, was that they would grab guys or girls out of the jails or detention centers or even homeless guys or girls, sometimes, like runaways, to be the Ken or Barbie.
He had fantasies, sometimes, that they would grab him and he’d be taken to someplace where a bunch of horny women would turn him into some kind of male stripper dude and he’d have to dance, and, if what he heard was true, they’d probably make him real muscular and give him a big dick and make him dance around and show off and let them all get off on his body after they changed him. It was a little scary, but sometimes, he kind of hoped it might happen. It could be pretty cool. He never heard what happened to the guys or girls when they were through with the game.
He never knew anyone that did it. Not until they took Alan. Alan wasn’t in the same cell, but Scotty saw them take him by, and Alan grinned at him as he passed his cell. Scotty never saw Alan again, and that made him nervous.
So, when the guards opened his cell a couple weeks later, leered at him, and called him Ken, he freaked. They said they would sedate him, if necessary, and so he figured he may as well cooperate. How bad could it be?
He was taken by prison van to a hotel, where the guard gave him over to a couple of large guys in business suits. Guys you wouldn’t fuck with.
Scotty went with them in the elevator to a penthouse suite. There was an elaborate computer set-up in the huge living room, but no one was there.
“Where’s the babes?” Scotty asked.
The two guys looked at each other and laughed.
One went to the table where all the equipment was, and that’s when Scotty noticed all the needles. There must have been twenty syringes lined up. Only one had anything in it, and one of the guys picked it up, and, without saying anything, ripped open Scotty’s prison shirt, pulled it back off his arm, and jabbed the needle into his shoulder, emptying the contents.
“Hey,” Scotty said, “Ow. What the hell . . .”
But before he’d even finished the question, he felt a curtain drop in his head. He was still standing, but he felt almost comatose or zombie-like. He was fully aware but in some kind of trance. He felt almost brain-numb. He just stood there. His shirt still hung off one shoulder, and the two guys paid him no attention. They were laughing and fiddling with the computer, obviously looking at stuff on the screen.
The doorbell rang. One of the guys went and let in six other guys, all huge brutes like the first two.
“We’re not late, are we?”
“You didn’t start without us?”
“No, no,” one of the first guys said. “Relax. You know the rules. Everyone takes turns. We just prepped him.”
“He’s a hot one.”
“Yeah, cute, too.”
Scotty could hear everything, could even turn his head and look at all the guys, but he couldn’t do anything else. He quickly got the idea that there weren’t going to be any babes. It was just these guys. But he couldn’t get his head into any kind of worry about it. He felt so totally compliant.
“So, who goes first?” one of the new guys said.
“I do,” answered the blond that had brought Scotty up, “Then Glen,” who was the dark haired one with the blond.
“Yeah, Jason always gets first,” one of the other guys said, a short, thick one with thinning hair but very handsome face.
“That’s because I always put in the most money,” the blond said.
“So, what’s the first shot gonna be, then, Jace?”
“Make the kid a stud,” Jason said.
While he talked, he punched the computer and, by means of some complex tubing, a small amount of liquid was delivered into a vial. Jason took a syringe, and, as one would suck ink into a pen from an ink bottle, he filled it with the liquid. He walked over to where Scotty was standing.
Scotty could do nothing. When the blond man, Jason, yanked at his shirt, Scotty felt like a doll. The shirt came off. Then the blond man undid Scotty’s belt and pants and pulled them down, pulling his boxers with them. When he tugged at the bottom, at Scotty’s feet, Scotty lifted his legs one at a time so the guy could get his pants off. He had no way of resisting. And then he was naked in front of all these guys. It was weird.
“Spread your legs, boy,” the blond guy said.
Jason stepped his legs apart. It felt so strange, naked, doing what he was told, just like a doll, a toy.
Without saying anything, the blond lifted Scotty’s balls and dick so he could get his hand between his legs, and he jabbed the needle right up into the place behind Scotty’s balls where the base of his dick ended. He jabbed in the needle and then emptied the syringe. It hurt. It really hurt a lot. Scotty probably would have screamed ouch or something, but he didn’t. He couldn’t even jump or flinch or anything. He just got the shot, took it, that’s all. Then the guy, Jason, went back to the table and threw the syringe in the trash, and they all just watched Scotty.
In a few seconds, Scotty started to feel whatever was shot into him burning in his crotch, and then he started to feel extremely hot and horny, and without looking down, he knew his dick was growing. He could feel it. I was getting heavier. His balls, too.
“Yeah, that’s always so hot to watch, man. I fuckin’ love that. Look at that cock, man.”
That was another blondish guy. He rubbed his own crotch as he talked.
“Let’s lose the clothes, guys.” The short thick one started taking off his shirt.
He wasn’t just thick. Scotty watched them all as they undressed. They all had muscular bodies, not just big, but big, thick, and sculpted, like serious bodybuilders. The short one had very hairy pecs. Jason had a trail down his abs. They were all built and, now that he was looking, all handsome as models. And they were all looking at him.
He looked down at his cock. It not only felt heavier and heavier, but as it got bigger, it made him feel so hot and sexy he couldn’t think about anything else. He’d heard they made guys get bigger dicks, but he never thought about growing a cock like this. It was still soft, and it looked like it was almost a foot long and as thick as his wrist, and he could even see his balls, like avocados, behind his cock. Oh, fuck, he felt hot.
Now the second guy came at him with a needle. He’d hardly noticed them at the computer. He jabbed it in Scotty’s butt. Now they were all getting hard watching him, and he kind of liked that he was making them hard. He felt sexy as shit, guys, girls, he didn’t care. God, did he feel sexy. Oohh, yeah, if they wanted a boy toy, he wanted to be one, big time. He felt so hot, he was paying more attention to them getting so turned on by him than what they were watching, until he felt the muscle in his legs start to force his legs apart, make him take a wider stance, and he felt his arms being lifted away from his sides by the muscle thickening up beneath them. His arms suddenly felt thick, heavy, crowded by his back getting so thick and wide and his pecs widening out, pushing on his biceps.
He didn’t even have time to react when another guy came at him with another shot, this one right in the base of his dick, and his dick started to grow even bigger and thicker, so fat and heavy, he couldn’t keep his hand off it, and then another shot in his butt, and now he was getting hair on his pecs and some on his abs and a trail was filling in down the middle of his abs. He felt his abs and pecs, so hot. He flexed. Fuck. He couldn’t believe how hot he felt. Fuck yeah, man, big fuckin’ Ken doll, man, do what you want with this boy, fuckers. And then another shot, and another, and he was growing huge, and getting so hot he couldn’t stop talking about how hot he was, asking them, “This the kind of Ken you want? You like this huge fuckin cock, huh? Go ahead, fucker, make it bigger if you want. I can take anything you want to do to me. Fuck yeah, man, play with your toy, man, do me however you want.” And the shots kept coming until Scotty could only remember a succession of big cocks in his mouth and his ass and God know what else and his huge fuckin’ cock and muscles, flexing, cumming, and then another shot, another climax, explosion, fade to black.
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