My Wish is Your Command
What am I thinking? I'm thinking, who am I? My name is David Cole. Well, David Tiberius Cole, to be complete. Born February 23, 1974, Tulsa, Oklahoma. That's where I am now, in Tulsa. In winter. Early early in the morning.
The night air is cold on my skin as I stand by the open window looking down on the sleeping streetscape. I am just beginning to consider the possibilities of my discovery. Months of research and quiet testing have finally resulting in a successful treatment-if I am courageous enough to try it on myself.
And with the right partner.
In November I decided that I wanted to use new technology-nanobots, brainwave interpretation, body chemistry-and drugs-libido elevators, lustifiers, attractants-to create out of myself the perfect gay lust body. I brought all of my considerable resources to bear on making my dream real. And I was very successful, at first. Each week brought a new development, and new improvement. First came the cognificant intersplice. Then the techno-physio meldifying statistics. The last part, though, was the hardest. I couldn't manifest the driver with my conscious brain, as I had intended. The only workaround was to use another human-to have a partner. If the partner manned the driver, each of our wishes could be written on each other's bodies, not just our own. The possibilities for fantasies becoming reality-every conceivable fantasy, every conceivable reality-were staggering. Now I am erect just thinking about it.
Not that the image of me erect is something to enjoy. Basically fat, unworkedout, pothead who dreams fantastic dreams of body modifications-shocking, unnatural changes and "improvements." What would it feel like to turn into a bodybuilder? A monster bodybuilder sex machine? Or literally a machine-a cyborg, part human, part computer with capabilities that only need to be imagined to exist? An animal? Like a bear or a wolf. Or part animal, like a huge dicked centaur or merman with actual gills, scales and fins. I dreamed of attempting every one of these transformations, but I needed a partner.
That's the way it works, see. Now that I think about it, it's the partnership that makes it most exciting. I dream of my partner's transformation. My partner dreams of mine. Both are made manifest through a morphing process that gives utter control as if by magic. I could also create a milieu or environment, or make changes in the own environment that others would notice or not notice as I chose. And place my partner in it. With me, if I desired.
Having that much control is very, very exciting to me. But also I also liked the lack of control that was part of the whole deal. I became what my partner fantasized about, no say so at all in the matter. Whatever fantastic vision of man my lover conceived, I would become it. Everything was in his control in turn. He could even make me think and do things I normally wouldn't-could enhance or reduce certain characteristics. Brainpower. Athletic ability. Super powers, even. Sex appeal. Nothing I could do about it.
Well, there is the art of persuasion, of course. And I am good at that. In fact, that's how I intended to get exactly what I wanted in the long run, no matter what my partner wanted. Both parties would agree on the transformation beforehand. Or the could agree to be surprised. I could tease and cajole and worship his cock. Then up his chest to nipples, neck, earlobes, lips.... There's no way anyone could resist for very long.
Enough imagining. Time to make it all real. Time to find the man whose dreams are going to come true. This is incredibly exciting. This is amazingly erotic just to contemplate. Who gets picked? Why?
Gazing out from my garret in the top of an old rambling rental, the city twinkled and winked beyond the leafy hillside neighborhood. Where do I begin?