Adventures of a Doom Marine

Level zero

The delegates of The Union Aerospace Corporation appeared one by one on the huge screen at the end of the room, chatting amongst themselves until finally there were thirty-two faces on the huge screen at the end of the room. No matter what the technology, some delegates would always turn up early, and some late. The presenter waited until five minutes had passed, sipping hot coffee, until he considered the meeting ready. He introduced himself, and the then outlined the agenda for the meeting. He looked over the faces, which were a variety of males and females of all ages and ethnicities, but all were human. There were no androids or aliens in the virtual meeting room.

“Since we mapped the human genome”, he began, “we have been researching which combinations of genes produce which characteristics, which genes can be turned on and off, and the effect of that, and what is determined purely by environment. That should not be news to any of you, and UAC has for years been pursuing research which is beneficial to the company.”

“What is interesting is that we now have an affordable gene therapy which can upgrade any human, such as this adult man, for example.”

I appeared in 3D in the middle of the conference room, standing to attention in my military uniform, rotating slowly.

“This is a fit man of twenty-five, who will be the Doom Marine. Many decades ago, there was a primitive personal computer game called Doom. It was played on something called a personal computer, which was a big box on which sat a visual display unit. The game was played with a keyboard and something called a mouse. This was long before there was any voice or touch activation, let alone thought transfer.

A video of the 1990s shoot-‘em-up game called Doom came up, with a figure in a green-and-grey uniform running around jerkily across an alien landscape where monsters were trying to kill him. The audience was both amused and amazed. The video then showed the person playing the game and the equipment on which it was played. There was more amusement and amazement.

“Our new version is an Actual Reality game in which our Doom Marine will attempt to complete a mission with the risk of being killed. It is completely possible he will be successful, but not likely. However, it gives the Union Aerospace Corporation the chance to test the upgrades we have given to the man. If he succeeds, then we have a brand ambassador, and a living example of what we can do.”

“The upgrades have been made in the following areas.”

The 3D figure changed into a transparent mannikin. There were various bubbles containing words like “Skin Colour”, “Hairiness”, “Musculature” and “Calluses” pointing at various parts of its body.

“I won’t read the bubbles out, but I will go through them one by one.”

“We have identified skin colour as something to adapt. The Doom Marine grew up in northern Europe where sunlight is very weak over half the year, and therefore has a skin tone suited to low levels of sunlight, so he can synthesise enough Vitamin D to keep his skeleton healthy. The downside of that is that his skin burns relatively easily in strong sunlight, and the DoomWad, as we call the alien landscape in which he is going to be carrying out his mission, is a hot desert. We have therefore adapted his skin’s response so that it responds immediately to strong sunlight. He will go very dark. This should protect him from the sun. He will be naked and barefoot, so this is essential for his survival.”

“Northern Europeans like our Doom Marine have eyes which have evolved to cope with low levels of sunlight and gloomy skies. In some parts of the world, humans have evolved eyes which act like sunglasses, with filters for ultra violet light. Our Doom Marine now has natural sunglasses built in which polarise light to reduce glare.”

The mannikin was replaced by a large eyeball which showed how it reacted to intense sunlight. The presenter continued.

“All human beings have the ability to live naturally barefoot. Indeed, footwear is a recent addition to human culture and much of the world still walks around functionally barefoot. The Doom Marine has grown up wearing shoes, so the soles of his feet are relatively soft. His feet will hurt out there. In time, of course, he will adapt naturally, and his feet will callus. However, we do not have time here, so our barefoot warrior needs help. The gene therapy accelerates callus growth, so that within a very short period of time his feet have callused. It will still hurt if he steps barefoot on a Lego brick in the night, but his ability to run, walk, jump and climb have been enhanced. The soles of his feet are as strong as the soles of boots but as sensitive as yours or mine, exactly as we were when we evolved on the African plains.”

The 3D eyeball split into four models of equal size of my bare feet, showing the sole of each foot and an overview. They were fundamentally in good condition, and the calluses on my toes caused by rubbing against footwear had been abraded off. The audience remained in rapt attention.

“Hair is an interesting problem. We all have hair on our head,” the speaker chuckled as he patted his bald pate,” Well, nearly all of us, and we have eyebrows, eyelashes and pubic hair. Pubic hair seems to act as a broadcasting system for female fertility, as it helps broadcast sex pheromones, but males have it too. It seems to provide protection against some STIs, but also encourages lice. Eyebrows and eyelashes also have protective purposes. In fact, all of us have hair follicles all over our body, which are triggered by hormones. If we all had high levels of this hormone, we would all be very hairy, including babies, children and adult women.”

The 3D feet vanished. Now appeared a quartet of naked 3D humans, a hirsute man, who looked to be Middle Eastern, naked and furry from head to toe, a baby boy, a girl of seven and a young woman, who were all apparently as hairy. The man looked scarily impressive, the others looked ridiculous, and indeed the models were manufactured. There was amusement in the audience, and one or two were rather taken by the proud, naked man.

“We decided in the end to turn the hormone off for our marine. He retains all of his hair follicles, but thanks to the therapy, no hair grows. Anywhere. This allows him to sweat freely and of course adds to the sensitivity of his skin”

More 3D imaging. Me. Becoming hairless. My naked scalp. My left forearm. My smooth, muscular chest. My right leg below the knee. My hairless groin. All were perfectly smooth, but this was before the other enhancements.

“We also increased his musculature. Our Doom Marine is a mesomorph, although this part of the gene therapy can be applied to ectomorphic and endomorphic physiques, it’s just that the results are not quite so spectacular. We also changed his metabolism so that he tends to put on muscle, not fat, if he overeats. The results are phenomenal.”

The 3D model of me exploded with muscle. My torso was shown from the front. Wow. My abdominals were a washboard. My pectorals were like dinner plates. My deltoids and arms were well-developed and rock hard. I doubted that there was an ounce of fat on me. I looked phenomenal. The 3D simulation of me went through some kind of body-building routine, showing me off.

“Our subject is also only of average height, which makes the results better. We tried this out on a shorter man, and the results were even more spectacular. We do expect this to be a very popular therapy.”

The delegates reacted to this very positively.

“His reactions have also been enhanced. Whereas before they were average, he now reacts considerably quicker.”

More 3D images. I was simulated catching a ball, hitting a ball and boxing. I had become far, far faster. But why?

 The presentation went on then into questions and answers, a presentation on the profit and loss from my enhancements, and then more questions and answers before the meeting broke up.

* * * * *

My name is Flynn Taggart and I am a marine, a soldier trained to fight, or at least I was until the UAC began experimenting on me. Having been sentenced to death for war crimes which I did not commit, I suppose that I am lucky to have a second chance, but maybe I would have been better off dead.  There was of course a lot which the presenter did not say. As the audience left, I imagined him standing in front of them telling them about some of the other changes which had been made.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, let me show you something which is not necessary to the Doom Marine’s mission, but is certainly a reward. I call it the BFG.”

There was a gasp at the 3D representations of my cock and balls came up, one of my circumcised cock at rest, hanging down over my huge smooth balls, and the other of it erect, standing up like a pole out of my hairless crotch.

“Our marine was a big lad anyway, but he has been upgraded. The average human erect penis is just over thirteen centimetres from tip to base, and our hero began at nearly sixteen centimetres. He now reaches twenty centimetres with an appropriate girth. His testicles have grown in proportion, which means that his production of sperm, and he is a healthy young man to begin with, has almost doubled. His blood flow has also increased, and we think that he can remain erect for nearly two hours, enjoying several ejaculations. We think that this will be a popular treatment.”

That was an understatement. The possibility of turning flabby, impotent old men into love gods again was too much. The questions would begin, like a dam bursting. The number of nerve endings in my skin had been increased significantly, so that every part of me responded to the slightest touch. My skin was just one huge organ of pleasure.

The presenter then might have said:

“Unfortunately for the women here, it seems our hero is gay, though not exclusively so. He just prefers men. We have therefore developed, and this is partly a reward, a self-lubricating anus. The trigger is something touching the skin around his anus, such as a finger or hand or the tip of a penis. When he feels that, the walls of his rectum start to lubricate themselves with an oily substance which is copious, completely harmless, quite tasty, free of germs and nutritious. At the same time, his sphincter relaxes, so that if another man inserts his penis, our Doom Marine will experience no pain but an awful lot of pleasure. “

And how! A relay team of eight young men with big thick cocks had tied me up for eight hours, repeatedly fucking my arse as hard as they could, but no matter how hard they tried, they failed to hurt me. I of course was dripping cum everywhere as their cocks hit my prostate, and moaning with pleasure. Apart from getting very thirsty, and my complete feeling of satiation, there were no ill effects. I spent the next few days having dildos pushed into me, taking every size possible, with every level of knobbliness, until I was taking even one that they called the Annihilator with little or no discomfort. I took fists up to the elbow. I was attached to a fucking machine on full power. The genetically-engineered arse lubricant was a total success.

But what was all this for?

I had been living in a prison cell, a very comfortable one but a prison cell nevertheless, during the period of the experimentation. I remember waking up there, and knew that I had had a past, but not much was very clear. I was functionally naked, which made me stand out as some kind of laboratory animal amongst the UAC scientists, and surprisingly calm. I guess that there were drugs being added to my food, and I was always accompanied by two mountainous men with shaved heads and long beards who did not look like scientists. Every day I was let out to urinate, defecate, shower, dry off, eat breakfast and begin the day’s work. I always spent two hours in the early evening exercising, one hour of weights under the supervision of the man mountains, and one hour carrying out aerobic exercise, swimming or running or playing football. I liked that. The rest of the day involved treatment and experiments.

The first one must have been on my feet. I was tied to a couch under the watchful eye of my minders. A pretty young chiropodist came in and slipped on medical gloves on her hands. My feet were prodded and poked. She made some notes, and her body language showed that she was happy. She cut my nails down with a machine and began abrading the calluses on the side of my big toe joints where my shoes had rubbed. A laser treatment followed, after which a healing cream and plasters were applied. For a couple of days after that my toes were sore, but after a night out of my cell in a laboratory secured to a bed I was let outside in the afternoon and instructed to run across country. Amazingly, my bare feet coped with all kinds of surface, as if I was wearing running shoes. Once back, I was sent for more tests.

After that, I was given a QR code om the back of my left hand, which indicated that I was the property of the UAC. At least it wasn’t something old-fashioned like a brandmark on my arse or a tattoo there.

The second change happened when I woke up one morning in the laboratory bed and found that I was surrounded by hair. Mine. I noticed that there was loose hair on me as well, but when I stood up and brushed it off my chest, I noticed that I was hairless there, and hairless down to my cock. I felt my head, and it was quite smooth. It actually felt rather nice. I checked my arms and armpits, my legs and arse, and even my arsehole. Hairless, but quite sexy. I showered any residue away and was subjected to more tests. I did not question why I had no hair. It was for the UAC.

The third changes were to my skin and eyes. I awoke in the laboratory, and went through my usual routine. I was then sent outside with a large bottle of water into a blazing sun and told to stay there in the open until the afternoon. This time I was not naked, but wore a vest and shorts. Ordinarily, I would have been desperate to find some shade, of which there was none, but I noticed first of all that the sun was not bothering me in the way that it normally did. I didn’t have to squint. The light was being polarised and filtered. I still could not look directly at the sun, but it was as if I was wearing sunglasses. My skin also was reacting to the sun, but not turning pink and then red, then days later, brown. It was just turning dark brown, African. I took off the vest and underneath the skin was still as pale as usual. I then dropped my shorts and there too, the skin was pale. I stripped, naked. If I was going to have a tan like that it needed to be an all-over one. I returned to the laboratory in due course and there was much excitement from the scientists. Of course, I was taken in for lots of tests, but one thing that transpired was that there had been no skin damage or damage to my eyes. I slept in my cell that night and awoke in the morning, as pale as normal. The makers of sun block were looking at oblivion.

The fourth change came after another night in the laboratory, and I awoke with an erection. When I looked down, my cock was enormous. I touched it gingerly and a bolt of pleasure hit me. Not only was it longer and thicker, but suddenly more sensitive. My balls looked at least twice as big. Thank you, UAC, but I guessed my huge knob came with strings. The two man-mountains burst in and dragged me off to the laboratory, unfed and unwashed, and dying for a piss. I was strapped down and a blindfold was put over my face. A hand began to masturbate me. Fuck, it felt good. I lasted about a minute before I came, and ejaculated into a test tube. The scientists at UAC were going to try ad make me come as often as I could, and every time I shot a load, they would measure it. A lubricated dildo ended up in my arse, my nipples were clamped, and an electric vibrator was run over my cock. Well, it wasn’t the worst experiment of them all, and finally, after two hours, my huge new cock finally lost its erection, and I had come eight times, producing cum from about twenty ejaculations. I was a fucking love god, but when was I going to be allowed to use my new toolkit?

The fifth changes were to my central nervous system, enhancing my skin sensitivity and my reactions. That day, I played sports, including boxing, tennis, squash, football and shooting. I seemed to be about twice as fast, almost seeing the world in slow motion. All the while I was tested and measured. My hand-eye co-ordination made me as good as a top professional. The next day my skin sensitivity was tested, cold, heat, pain and finally being given to the man-mountains to be tickled, which caused me to erect and ejaculate spontaneously.

Change number six was also a thank you to the UAC. After another night in the laboratory, I evacuated my bowels and bladder as normal, showered and ate breakfast. Just after I finished, the two man-mountains grabbed me and dragged me off to a room I had not seen before, and strapped me in a sort of kneeling position, but with my torso strapped down, not upright, with my bare arse exposed and open. Another six men came into the room, and I felt a cock near my hole. I had not expected to be raped in this way, but as the cock entered my hole, which seemed to stretch by itself, I felt an oily substance surround the incoming shaft. One of the man-mountains was fucking me with his huge thick cock, and all I could feel was it sliding easily up and down in my hole, banging into my prostate. I came before he did, splattering spunk all over the floor. Fuck, this was good. Once one man finished, another took his place, fucking me again and again until I wore them all out. I was exhausted myself and very thirsty, but after a drink I went in for more tests, and more abuse of my arse over the next few days.

I could see why they left the last enhancement, the seventh change, to the end. I woke up in the laboratory, not aware of any changes, until I stood up and saw myself in the mirror. Wow! Was that me? I had suddenly developed a fantastic physique, which I enjoyed seeing. Thank you, again, UAC, but of course it came with strings. I showered and ate breakfast as normal, but afterwards I decided to try my new found muscles out, avenging myself on one of the man-mountains, whom I overpowered, tied up, stripped and then fucked him again and again with only saliva as a lubricant, and then forced my cock into his throat for cleaning.

I was ready for whatever came next. After raping the man-mountain, I took a wash. When I left the shower there was an unfamiliar door, the only exit, which led outdoors. What now?