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Changing Times

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The Deepking - The Beach

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Prologue

So dark. So alone.

How many years had passed since the last human had laid eyes on me? How long since they stood on my deck or when I first launched from port to the fanfare of thousands? My maiden voyage still remained my fondest memory but every time that memory returned to the surface, I was left with the blistering reminder that I will never again feel the touch of the deep ocean against my hull or sound of men at work on my deck. All I had for company were the barnacles slowly gnawing at the rusted metal, the vermin in the pipes and the gulls nesting on the railings, soiling the once beautiful markings that read ‘Ocean King’. Once a leviathan of the seas reduced to little more than a rotting carcass on an abandoned shore. A foolish navigator and arrogant captain had steered me closer to the shoals in some vain attempt to give the passengers something to look at apart from endless blue ocean.

Then the storm had hit.

Once a mighty god of the seas run aground by a meagre storm.

There had been some fantasy when I was first driven into the sands that this would all play out like some form of Gilligan’s Island. That show had been played so often in the decks that it was ingrained into my memory. Even if I had been torn down for scraps to make shelter for the marooned passengers, that would have been preferable to just being left abandoned and rotting while the captain and crew were transported to a military vessel. Belongings remained abandoned in the cabins. Any supplies had turned rancid and dank. With each passing day, my flesh rotted and death crawled ever closer at a pace that would have shamed snails.

It was torture.

But that all changed.

For the first time in what seemed like centuries, humans had arrived on the island and they were here specifically for me.

I was wanted.

And I would never let them go.

I will never be abandoned again.

The Beach

It started a few days ago.

There was a flyby from a plane. At first it seemed to be just another passenger plane flying by but this time it was flying low and it circled the island. Hope sprung anew and I cried out to it, cried out to its people to come and be with me, to rescue me from this terrible isolation. But all that emerged was the faint groan of metal. Not that they could hear it being so far up. But my excitement grew when that very same plane - a seaplane in fact - started making its way down towards me. It touched down a good distance away, far from the reefs and shallows that had bitten into my hull. They landed close to the eastern shore of the small island. Covered in dense shrubbery and trees, one could think of this place as a tropical paradise were it not also my grave.

The plane only carried four humans. Two adults, both advanced in age based on their greying hair and a single teenager. The last of their crew was perhaps a middle ground between the ages and he was the pilot.

“There he is,” sighed one of the grey-haired men. Seemingly in command of the expedition, he wore a white, breezy shirt accompanied with tan shorts. His build suggested the adventurous type; athletic without being overly bulky. The leathery appearance of his tanned skin suggested someone who preferred the outdoors. His deep, brown eyes shone with intelligence, amplified by the half-moon spectacles he wore on the bridge of his nose. The almost completely silver hair on his head was cut short hinting at perhaps a military background. The first two buttons of his shirt were pulled open, perhaps due to the heat, exposing the curly white hairs growing on his chest. “The Ocean King.”

“He?” the youngest member of the ground said. He was thin and wry but there was a clear relation between this male and the first. It was in the square jaw and the brown eyes. Though he wore no glasses, the resemblance was there from the pug nose to the way he held himself; head held high and radiating a sense of pride. Likely father and son. Unlike his patriarch, this young man was dressed a little more sensibly with a deep green utility vest across his chest and a wetsuit underneath. He waded into the shallows and the beach barefoot. His brown hair was also allowed to tumble over his ears in playful, sun-bleached curls. “I thought sailors usually regarded their ships as female and it’s considered bad luck to call a ship a ‘he’.”

“Come on, Bradley,” the senior said, ruffling his son’s hair playfully. With his other hand, he gestured towards me. “You can’t tell me that behemoth could be considered anything short of a male!”

A behemoth when the ocean had lapped at my flanks but now little more than a husk slowly bleeding to death.

“He is pretty damn big,” admitted Bradley, folding his arms. “The biggest oil tanker ever launched. The Ocean King. Run aground during a storm because some idiot decided it’d be ‘fun’ to look at this island. Does this place even have a name?”

“Nope,” answered the biggest of the men. He was taller than the boy’s father, perhaps at 6’10’’ or so. His pointed chin was capped with a black-brown goatee that curled around to meet his moustache. A dark coating of curly black hair hung over his head with the temples greyed accompanied by silver sideburns. Muscles were simply brimming from beneath his open vest and chocolate skin. He wore nothing beneath the fluorescent green garment while a pair of camouflage pants and heavy, black boots covered his lower body. There was a speargun strapped across his back and a pistol hanging from his hip. “This island is unnamed. Hell, some people even thought God conjured it out of nowhere to purposefully beach the Ocean King because it was such an environmental hazard.” He jerked a thumb towards the waters. “Come on, Roy. Let’s start the survey.”

The first man, the father, stepped forward and spread his arms. “Don’t be in such a rush, Brock. Enjoy the moment! We’re in the presence of history!”

“Bad history,” grumbled Brock, marching across the sand. “This thing has been grounded here for years and only now did anyone notice that the oil and fuel that it had stored was leaking out.”

The biggest oil tanker ever created on his maiden voyage and no one bothered to retrieve me due to the embarrassment of the helmsman and captain. Only recently had the salt water and rust eaten through my hull to the point that some of the ruptured oil barrels had started spilling into the sea. My fuel had already been bleeding into the beach but it was only when the oil was in danger did anyone dare to pay attention. A ship is only as valuable as its cargo, after all.

“It’s oil,” Brock said snidely. “You know how the world is. When there’s oil involved, that’s when people start jumping. Not a day sooner. Everyone would rather forget this thing sat here.”

Forget they did. How long had it been since any other human had come to visit my grave? A decade? Two? Time seemed to matter little when you only have the occasional curious bird for company.

“I’d have thought someone would’ve at least come to retrieve some of the oil,” commented the fourth and last person of this small crew. He was a young man, cleanly shaven and possessing platinum blonde hair tied back into a ponytail. A rather outrageous yellow and green floral shirt hugged his slightly rounded form. Large, meaty arms hinted at a man used to working with his hands. The thick hairs on those arms would have been invisible were it not for their density. A pair of white slacks hugged his thick legs and he groaned as he put them to good use to stand on the struts of the seaplane. He lifted a hand to shield his blue eyes from the harshness of the sun.

“People did,” Roy, the father answered with a scholarly tone. “Right after the disaster that beached him, Baypark Petroleum sent out crews to retrieve his precious cargo. Thing is, they couldn’t get everything.” He pointed towards my stern. “See how the rear end of the ship is underwater? That part became extremely flooded and because there was a rupture in the fuel tanks, the water around it became extremely toxic. Instead of actually retrieving the oil or cleaning up the mess, all Union Derricks did was patch up the leak and then leave.”

“Sounds really reckless.”

“That it is, Wesley. That it is. Which is why we are here.” Clearly the leader of the group, Roy pointed towards the rusted and faded emblem emblazoned on my flanks. “We need to report on the Ocean King’s status. Baypark hired us to survey the area, the ship and the environmental disaster so it can begin clean-up!”

Could it be? Were they here to finally repair me and allow me to set sail once more? After all these years, I could finally feel the warm sun on my deck and the open ocean on my bow. No longer damned to be a rotting carcass forgotten on some unnamed island but once again on out on the seas! It was a dream come true.

“We’re only here to do a preliminary assessment,” grunted Brock, striding forward through the sand. He grimaced as his heavy work boots let out a loud squelching noise against the oil-covered beach. “The clean-up crew will come in after we submit our report. Then they’ll probably tear this hunk of junk up for parts.”

Tear up for parts? Was I not worthy to be repaired? Was I not the biggest oil tanker ever built? Had I not stood as a resolute monument for human mistakes for decades? Would my patience and faith all these years go unrewarded? Why would they spend all that time building me only to tear me down!?

Wesley scratched his head in confusion. “Really? They can’t just rebuild it?”

Roy shook his head sadly. “That sort of repair would require them to tow the entire ship back to port before beginning extensive repairs. With the hull as damaged as it is, it’d more likely sink than float. Since the nearest port is just about 20 miles that way” - he pointed to the east - “it’s easier for clean-up crews to come here, scavenge what scrap they can and then leave the rest for the attraction.”

Attraction? I was an attraction? And the nearest port was only 20 miles away? I was so close to shore, to civilisation and they had simply let me rot here for what? Their entertainment?

“Yeah, I suppose when we submit our report, this old guy will be like the Titanic,” sighed the son. “Kind of neat and people will know he’s here. Will be a monument to man’s folly and arrogance.”

No. This would not stand. Years of isolation, praying and quiet hope would not be rewarded with death. I would not be torn apart by scavengers. The sad part was… He had been right. The Master had told me that they would only scrap me, leave me to rot and fade with time. Hoping against hope had become such a habit at the time that refusing to take the Master’s advice had been simple enough. But now, hearing these words right from the humans who had built me and were now seeking to destroy me…

… It broke my heart.

“Let’s get to work!” Roy announced, pumping a fist into the air. “Wesley, set up camp. We’ll be staying on the island for the night and leaving in the morning. Brock, you take the bow of the ship. Bradley, you’re our best swimmer. Take the stern.” The older man pointed at where my flanks were tilted towards him. “I’ll take the middle.”

The four men split up and began working. Letting them leave was not an option but with Wesley off on his own while only three of them were within my depths would prove problematic. If even one of them managed to flee, it would bring the wrath of humanity upon me; the very same humanity that had constructed me from the finest steel and made me into a leviathan of the seas only to abandon me due to their own folly!

No.

All four of them must be dealt with and I needed to start with the pilot. Without their pilot, they would not be able to escape. The question remained on how to lure him into my hull like the others. Despite my modifications, I was still weak. It took all my focus and most of my strength to observe the exchange between the men and even then, I could barely make out their words. It pained me when Brock launched some sort of grappling hook to latch onto my bow and climb up my hull. The leader of the team, Roy, was no better as he did the same but only from my starboard side. At least Bradley was gentle as he dove into the shallows and quietly swam around my stern, inspecting the damage.

Tempting as it was to punish them for their crassness and arrogance, Wesley my priority. I was not strong enough to withstand humanity’s might but perhaps with these four, I could be. Inspiration struck when Roy’s left boot slammed against a rusted part of my hull, shattering the metal. Pain erupted from the impact and I cried out in agony. The resulting noise was a loud, echoing groaning of metal.

“Whoa! The old guy really is falling apart!” bellowed Roy into his walkie-talkie. “Be careful, boys. He’s rusted all over. Watch your step.”

Brock who was already halfway up my bow grunted softly as he carefully took one step at a time up to my deck. “I can see that, Roy. You watch your step. You’re not as physically fit as me!”

Bradley who was speaking into his scuba suit slowly glided through my rusted propellers. “He may be rusted but he’s still a magnificent beast. These propellers… damn.”

Wesley, who remained on the beach and setting up camp, let out a soft laugh. “Hope you boys had your tetanus shots!”

Even with the distance, he was still in communication with the other three. A live feed. That was my way in.

As the three blissfully made their way into my hull, I called out once more. A pained cry. Deep within my bowels, rusted metal groaned and that noise echoed throughout my empty walls, reverberated off pipes, gangways and abandoned steel crates. There was a dark, haunting melody to it. Years of isolation with little to do but let the ocean’s salty waters slowly eat away at me had afforded me the time to practice my harmonies. Only this time, my song had a different purpose than just to give voice to my lamentations.

“Wesley,” I beckoned. “Come to me, Wesley.”

On the far shore, the young man with the tanned leathery skin lifted his head in my direction. To him, my voice was little more than the creaking of metal and groaning of rust but it was directed at him. Somewhere, deep down in his very soul, he heard me. It was just as I had been told. We were all connected and on some level, regardless of our physical form, origins or even our situations, we all spoke a single, primal language that transcends time and space.

“Come, Wesley. Come.”

The siren song was inescapable and within moments, Wesley Roake was abandoning his camping supplies and wandering down the beach towards me. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking but there was confusion in his sunflower eyes and his mouth was half-open. Progress was slow and there was constant distraction in the presence of these three humans who were crawling all over me. Nostalgia flooded me just like the waters that had doomed me to slowly sink into the depths. Roy worming his way through my cargo bay brought back memories of men taking inventory, living within the crew quarters and breathing life into my very veins. Brock strolling cautiously on my deck was akin to the sensation of a chill down one’s spine. Bradley roving around by my propellers tantalised me, sending something akin to… arousal as I longed for his touch.

These sensations translated into my song, the undertones turning from a cry of help to a deep, longing.

“Wesley. I need you. Please come to me.”

The effect on the thirty-something pilot was a rush of blood towards his groin. His penis rose in his tawny shorts, almost acting like a diving rod that pulled him towards me. The chatter of the others died away to my song and as he drew closer and closer, he no longer had to rely on the walkie-talkie hanging from his belt. He heard my song for himself, the musical words ringing in his ears and resounding through his skull.

“Touch me, Wesley.”

The moment his white loafers touched the oil-stained sand, he came within my grasp. The oil. The oil was like my blood, my essence. It had sat within me for so long that it had become part of me. Every step he took was like an ant crawling on my skin. Were I stronger, it would have been so easy to swat him away. But no. I had uses for Wesley Roake and I needed to become stronger.

“Wesley… Wesley…”

He quivered an anticipation as his footsteps saw the oil-covered waters lapping at his heels, soaking through his shoes, past his socks and into his flesh. For a moment, he stopped, shuddered and gasped. His hands went towards his groin, clutching his hardened member and squeezing it against his shorts. Orgasm was something I never truly understood but I was aware that many of the crewmen that had manned me all those years ago often partook in the ritual either alone or with one another. It was a debilitating human reaction and how Wesley could orgasm simply by my touch was befuddling. It showed just how weak-minded this man was.

Nevertheless, men would be met with a sense of clarity after orgasm especially if their arousal was doused. Thankfully, the waves continued to carry my essence to Wesley and with each lap of the waves, I continued to carry my song, my intention and channelled these glorious sensations of the other three men exploring my form. Wesley toppled forward, falling to his knees while still clutching his cock. He must have orgasmed a second time but his new position allowed the waters to carry my oil up against his legs.

“Don’t stop there. Come to me. You’re so close.”

“So… So close…” mumbled the man.

“What’s that, Wesley?” Brock asked. “Did you say something?”

No. The other three could not be suspicious. Not when success was so close.

Wesley reached for the walkie-talkie hanging from his hip. Before I could give form to my song, he began speaking. “Just… Just really close to finishing camp, Brock. Nothing to worry about.”

Perhaps there was some use for this human after all. So long as their loyalty remained, so long as they were enthralled, perhaps there was no need to eliminate them entirely.

“Good boy, Wesley. Come closer. You deserve a reward.”

Wesley tossed his walkie-talkie over his shoulder, the device being half-buried in the sand. A maddened, needy look entered his eyes as he salivated while still clutching his hard cock. He hurriedly scrambled forward, still on his hands and knees, almost like a puppy eager to please his master. The hurried manner disturbed the waves, splashing oil and seawater all over himself which worked to my benefit. As more and more oil came into contact with the enthralled and aroused man, I sunk my hooks deeper and deeper into him.

I could feel his taut, firm body and the leathery texture of his tanned skin. His smooth, blonde hair was well maintained, silky and luscious. This was a man who clearly took care of himself and spent much of his time in the outdoors or on the beach. He oozed a certain masculinity about him; exuding the aura of a layabout surfer without discipline. It came with how he dressed. A pair of aviator sunglasses perched atop his head, those shorts that were now becoming stained with oil and that bright, almost offensive Hawaiian shirt that flapped loosely around his lean frame as he paddled towards me.

The oil would have burned or caused serious damage to his coppery skin but this was my essence. Nothing would come from me bringing harm to him or his compatriots. No. He and the others would become my new crew. A crew that would never leave me or abandon me on some shore so close to civilisation.

Wesley all but threw his entire weight against my rusted hull, waist-deep in oily water. He pressed his cheek against my frame, running his hands all over the cold steel and grinding his crotch into the metal. To be touched with such affection again. Sheer bliss. It was again the rummaging of both Roy and Brock that kept me focused. Wesley was in my thrall and now, he would be the first of my many, many servants. I was the Ocean King, royalty amongst the seas! It was my right to be waited on!

The oil, my will made manifest, swirled around Wesley, the intoxicated soul oblivious to the changes occurring around him and to him. Inky black goo crawled into his legs, seeping into his pores and travelling through his veins. Sticky, web-like fingers crawled up the underside of his shirt, making quick progress as it snaked up his back, following the trail of his spine before branching out towards his shoulders and arms. Like nerves reconnecting, the oil seeped into his spinal cord and I was instantly bombarded with a host of new sensations.

This was true arousal.

The vibrant lust and desire burning from Wesley’s cock stirred within me, causing loud groans to emanate from my metal hull. Would that I could move, I would be bucking and gyrating alongside my new servant. But I would have to make do for now as Wesley fed me these intoxicating sensations by proxy. Having lived my entire existence merely as an oil tanker, these new organic sensations was ambrosia. Warm like the summer’s heat on the sand, wild like a tempest raging in the seas and hungry like the ocean’s dark depths. It burned a need within me, a new, primal need and one I was more than willing to fulfil.

My tendrils lanced out, crawling their way down Wesley’s arms and slowly making their way up the back of his neck. Inch by inch, my consciousness found its way into his mind, little oily spears working their way past his feeble skull and straight into his brain. There, my song reached him in its earnest.

“Ooooh…” moaned the man, all but sinking beneath the waves. “Oooh yeah… Take me… make me yours…”

All too happy to oblige, my oily essence worked its way to the tip of his fingers and slowly crept up his neck. The black mass worked its way up his jaw line while also rapidly creeping up the back of his head, consuming that ponytail until there was nothing left but a smooth, black mass. The oil warped over his face, covering his eyes and slowly joining with its brother around Wesley’s jaw. The last to be consumed was the man’s stupefied grin and then there was nothing left but a black silhouette of a man wearing some awful clothes and soaked loafers.

Now it was time but I was at a crossroads. There were three other men working their way through my bowels. What little strength I had left could be devoted to making Wesley my avatar, a perfect representation of me but then the other three would have to be dealt with. It took me years to gather the strength to do this much and investing it all on Wesley only to find that he was lacking would be utterly disappointing. Conversely, I could reach out to the others, convert them as well and perhaps leave them in this clean shadowy human shape before I went to work once my strength had gathered.

Then, another word from the Master rang in my mind.

Propagation.

Yes. Propagation. I needed to spread my influence. I needed to grow stronger. Thus came my design for Wesley’s shape. Cocooned in my oil, Wesley writhed in pleasure, unaware of the great changes and destiny I had planned for him. All the oil from the ocean around him swirled into his form, joining with the black, vaguely human mass. That gave me the materials to start with but it was the fire of Wesley’s lust that truly ignited his transformation.

The oil pooled around the base of his spine, forming a bulge that quickly stretched against the seat of his water-logged shorts. Muscles, bone and nerves connected with his spine, sending jolts of immeasurable pleasure through both his body and cock. These likewise rocketed to me and only furthered his transformation. Within the confines of his cocoon, he moaned, a sound that echoed my own song. The bulge quickly grew longer, curling down the leg of his left shorts leg. It thickened, gaining strength and mass. Wesley thrust his hips in a primal need to ejaculate and with it, flexed his new appendage. The tail tore through his pants and underwear, flaring out triumphantly and thrashing in the water. The tips fanned out, forming two fins that were perfect for propelling its owner through the water. Blood pumped through the new veins, feeding muscles and activating bones. The long, black tail merged with the rest of his form, the white underside clearly showing. Almost on instinct, the tail began swaying in the water, keeping Wesley’s form mostly above the waves as the rest of his writhed in pleasure.

Strength was quickly waning so I had to act faster. There was no time to relish each growth and spurt of semen that ejected from Wesley’s seemingly-perpetually erect cock. As the shorts fell away, drifting off into the ocean waves, his member was exposed, fully covered in the black oil but producing a near-constant stream of his genetic material - material that would soon change to reflect my will.

The oil down his legs shifted and undulated. My men would be strong and powerful and they would propel themselves on more than just their tails. Though Wesley had a lean frame, he had little to no definition in his legs. That changed as the oily black mass merged with is flesh, melting away the division between the tanned, human skin and itself. More of the excess oil seeped into him, adding more and more mass to his legs. Defined quads glistened in the rippling light of the sea. Powerful hamstring formed a cut ‘V’ behind his broad thighs. Mass pooled into his calves, forcing them to balloon out and form two perfect tear-drop shapes flanking each shin. His toes curled as the oil pushed them against his loafers. The big toe on his right erupted from the base of the shoe, tearing through his socks in the process. He managed to kick off his other shoe before the same could happen but his big, black toes burst from his socks nonetheless, absent those pointless toenails. The oil settled into his new, powerful form, coating the base of his feet in a contrasting white flesh while the rest remained inky black.

Tempting as it was to immediately go for his cock - that big, throbbing cock - I could not risk a lapse of concentration.

Not now that I was so close.

It took an incredible amount of will to avoid Wesley’s groin area especially since he had wrapped his hand around his member and was stroking with the fervour of one of one that needed to masturbate to live. The already lean muscles of his abdomen swelled. A strong swimmer needed a strong upper body as well, after all. That bellybutton had no purpose being there so it was absorbed into the wall of rigid muscles that formed eight, perfectly-shaped armour-like abdominals. His lats spread out, tapering away from his abdomen and growing in strength to support the swimming he would have to do. His back convulsed partially in pleasure but also in shock as the muscles stacked perfectly up and down his spine. The shirt hanging around his shoulders tightened with buttons flying away to reveal the big, slat-like pectorals that occupied his chest. Almost immediately, a white crest spread across his chest as the oil solidified into his form. Critical organs were reshaped, re-purposed and reinforced for diving into depths that would crush any normal man.

He instinctively curled forward, dipping his head beneath the waves for the first time. A bolt of arousal akin to orgasm erupted from his spine, almost halfway up his back. A sharp, curved fin burst from his flesh, sheering through the remnants of shirt. Wesley flung his head back, breaching the surface once more and throwing his arms wide.

Too late did I realise that I had expended all of my strength on this venture alone. Dismay flooded me but it was fleeting. To my surprise, Wesley seemed to take the rest of the transformation in stride by himself. I felt as he willed the oil to solidify around his arms. The lean but spindly limbs swelled, filling up into large melons with crisp veins running up his forearms and disappearing into his biceps. The white crest from his chest spread down his arms, linking up with similarly white palms that were missing those annoying fingernails.

His traps rose from bulging shoulders, all but consuming his neck and nearly merging his slick head entirely. A thin line appeared horizontally across his face. It split open to reveal rows of sharp teeth and a long, flat pink tongue. Those lips pushed forward, forming a nice, curved beak that sloped upward into a handsome, slope. Two other slits appeared just above his beak and they opened to reveal wild eyes shining with an ethereal blue glow from their irises. A cry left his lips but it was not one a human could produce. It was a deep, sonorous whale song that resonated with me. It was my song translated into the music of organic life.

It was beautiful. Perfect.

Mustering what little strength I had left, I focused directly on the man’s penis. The black mass grew, expanding in Wesley’s grasp and splitting his fingers apart as it became fatter and longer. A deep moan rose from his throat as he joined his strength with mine. Long veins ran up and down the rod, absorbing the oil and solidifying it into a long, white spear that slowly peeled away at the tip to reveal black, mushroom-shaped glands that swelled with arousal.

Wesley bucked his hips and with another cry that echoed through my hull, he came. However, the seed that spurted from his thick, hefty balls was not the white seed of humans. No. It was gooey, black and held a opalescent quality almost like oil but much thicker. Long ropes of black seed swirled in the ocean around him, produced in abundance by his seed and pumped right against my hull. The moment that juicy, rich fluid touched the rusted frame, the might of the sun was shot through my weakened system.

Good, loyal Wesley had returned to me some of my strength. Enough, at least, to keep watch on both the other three men but not enough to interact with them directly.

Such a good boy.

“All aboard the Deepking!” he bellowed.

There must have been something lost in translation due to his addled mind but I liked that name. The Ocean King was a derelict. I was the Deepking.

“Hey… Did you hear that?” Bradley asked, still swimming away beneath my propellers. “Sounded like a whale…”

“I heard someone shout something about a ‘Deepking’,” Roy said. “Did anyone say anything? Brock? Wesley?”

“Not me,” answered Brock. “Wesley?”

Naturally, Wesley did not hear as his walkie-talkie had been consumed by the waves. I had to act fast if I was to capture the three remaining men.

We had to act fast.

“Wesley,” I cooed through the groans of my hull.

“Yes, milord,” Wesley answered, beaming brightly as he paddled in the water.

“Take Bradley. Change him as I changed you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “With pleasure, milord.”

The newly formed orca-man bowed towards me before effortlessly diving beneath the waves and using his new body with each ease and comfort that one could be fooled he was born with it. The powerful orca swam with the speed of a shark, a torpedo that glided stealthily on the kicks of his powerful legs and his muscular tail. His arms were pressed firmly by his sides to reduce drag.

He found Bradley with ease. The young man was still too busy examining the hole that the reef had caused near my propellers. Memories of when the rocks had torn through my hull still stung to this day but this wound would be the site of Bradley’s rebirth. Too preoccupied with his job and chatter with his father and guardian, Bradley never noticed the orca gliding up behind him, thick, muscular arms primed to snatch him from his human existence and bring him to my kingdom.

There was a jolt of thrill that ran through me as Wesley grabbed Bradley from behind, tearing the scuba mask from the young man’s face and spinning him around. Bradley had no time to register his shock before Wesley was shoving his tongue down the humans throat, wrapping his lips around the young man’s face while holding his head firmly against his own. The other hand was wrapped around Bradley’s waist, keeping him from escaping.

At first, I thought this was some technique to keep Bradley breathing while Wesley changed him. Only when I started to sense the arousal and desire rising from my newest convert did I realise that this was a kiss. Now there were two sources of arousal rising from near me and it provided strength and nourishment the likes of which I had not felt since I had first departed port.

Bradley would drown, however, if something was not done so with a soft command, I guided Wesley to swim up the hole in my hull. Naturally, Bradley struggled and flailed for a few moments before even he became enthralled by the contact with the muscular orca that was guiding him slowly into safety. Perhaps it was the hormones of youth or some sort of youthful virility but even before they breached the surface, Bradley was already coming into my influence.

Arousal radiated from him and it called to the oil around him. The moans that rose from Wesley’s throat resonated deep within Bradley’s chest, sending echoes and chills throughout his entire body so delicately wrapped in that figure-hugging, black swimsuit. Muffled cries quickly turned to mimic the notes Wesley sang. The connection was made and it was like another bright, shining star had erupted into existence in the endless blackness of the abyss.

I called out to him.

“Bradley. Do not resist, Bradley. Help me. I need you.”

His cock grew hard in his swimsuit and he was squirming in Wesley’s grip, the vibrations of from Wesley’s song causing every fibre of his being to quiver and become more receptive to the oil that quickly seeped through his swimsuit and melted with his flesh. His lungs began to burn and without hesitation, Wesley guided them up into my hull where my song was greatest. They found an air pocket, breaching the surface just as both Roy and Brock began interrogating them.

“Bradley? Report in.”

“Are you okay, son?”

Wesley broke the kiss, slowly pulling his beak away from Bradley’s face but letting his tongue linger a little longer as he extracted the long appendage from deep within the boy’s throat. Bradley was grinning wanly as he reached for the radio latched to his chest and lifted to his lips.

“All aboard the Deepking,” he whispered, his irises burning a bright blue.

He let the radio drop from his fingers, the confused and increasingly frantic demands of his father sinking into the depths and out of mind. Wesley leaned forward, letting his lips hover just over the young man’s ears. The orca sang, sang my song with its notes echoing through my hull. Even Roy and Brock paused as the haunting melody reached them from the other side of the ship.

Bradley shook from head to toe, his every limb stiffening as oily strands sank into his flesh, melding with my will and changing him from within. The swimsuit was admittedly too strong for me to just tear off him in my current state but, much like Wesley, he took the lead. His fingers reached behind Wesley’s back, gently caressing that large, powerful fin. He wanted that and through sheer force of will, he took all the power offered by my essence and pooled it into his spine. The fabric of his swimsuit stretched and distended, a large lump pressing up against the black, full-body suit. The distinct silhouette of a fin quickly rose, its sharp point piercing the swimsuit.

The young daddy’s boy was instantly hit by a rush of endorphins akin to having just orgasmed; a rush of release, that burst of fireworks that sent shockwaves throughout his entire body followed by the quivering warmth and headiness of floating on a cloud of bliss.

Wesley grew aroused once more, or perhaps he never grew soft, and his tongue snaked out between his lips, gliding up and down Bradley’s neck. Where that long, pick, fleshy appendage touched, the human’s skin turned an inky black, spreading rapidly from the point of contact towards the rest of his neck and head. Bradley’s tilted his head away from the orca molesting him, offering more of himself to the intense tonguing even as the hairs on his head began falling away, fading into the black waters around him.

The black flesh crawled up the back of his head. Where it passed, it shed any hairs, leaving him completely bald. The flesh crept towards his ears, pulling the organs back into his skull and melting them with his smooth skull, almost invisible in the sea of darkness. He let out another moan, a sound so close to whale song that he was nearly matching pitch with Wesley. His eyebrows were quickly consumed by the dark flesh, replaced instead by big, white ellipses. He shut his bright, burning, blue eyes as the rest of his face was consumed by his new skin. His jaw was smeared with white and within moments, his skull was reshaping itself. The flat, human features were pushed forward, his nose melding in with the rapidly expanding beak while his jaw and mouth widened. Teeth sharpened into points, spacing out amongst the broad mouth.

Bradley opened his mouth, tilting his head back and letting out a song that still smacked of the human that he once was but was quickly leaning towards one of my servant. No. Not just a servant. My knights. Yes. They would be my loyal knights who would do anything for me and never leave me alone.

The soon-to-be knight wrapped his arms around Wesley, fingers digging into the black, muscled flesh before him and riding the wild thrusts of Wesley as the orca grew more and more aroused with the arrival of his new comrade, his new brother-in-arms. The black flesh crawled down Bradley’s shoulders, spreading out from his fin and neck and creeping over his scrawny shoulders. No knight of mine would be small, weak and meek. Using what power I could muster, I directed Bradley’s growth to start inflating his muscles. This had the unintended effect of deepening his voice, perhaps a little deeper than Wesley. If my first knight was an alto, Bradley would be a tenor.

His shoulders broadened to support his thickening neck, bowling balls that pulled at his legs and widened his back to support that big fin. This spread down his deltoids, thick scalloped muscles pressing up against his black flesh. What hairs were on his arms fell away into the salty waters around him as his biceps inflated, tearing open the arms of his swimsuit like a flower blossoming in the spring. His forearms inflated, giving more strength to his grip against Wesley’s back.

For his part, Wesley grabbed the torn bodysuit ripped edges and tore it away from Bradley’s back. Black, muscled flesh was revealed, flexing and growing around that powerful fin. Wesley lifted one arm, allowing his partner to peel away the suit from the expanding appendage and revealing the large, hands lacking in fingerprints and fingernails. His white palms remained distinct against the sea of black. Bradley flexed his arm, admiring the view as Wesley peeled away the rest of the full-body swimsuit from his other arm.

This left his chest exposed and free to grow further, plump pectorals pressing up against Wesley’s with their bright, pink nipples caressing one another beneath the ocean waves like a pair of volcanic tips kissing and smoldering. I will admit that I never understood the need for such features on the human male body but when Bradley used his new, powerful arms to reach down and pinch Wesley’s nipples, I suddenly understood. Their unified cry of ecstasy, that small shot of precum squiring from their hard cocks and their squirming bodies sent waves through my hull like an earthquake had rocked me. Poor Roy lost his balance and stumbled onto a rusty gangway. Brock slipped on my deck but managed to get back to his feet quickly.

Some of the energy that they exuded seeped into me. Impatience drove me to push Bradley’s transformation further along. The boy bucked his hips, rubbing his contained need against Wesley’s engorged cock like an imprisoned man pleading to be freed by his brother. Wesley needed not act as the black flesh pooled around the base of Bradley’s spine and immediately came rushing out as a big, long, muscled tail complete with fluke. The sudden burst of mass and flesh sent the remnants of Bradley’s suit crumbling around him, exploding outward symbolically as he shed the rest of his humanity.

Perhaps as an homage to his all-black body suit, he only possessed a single white crest on his chest, one that spread across his pectorals and barely made it halfway down his chiselled abdominals. His cock was completely coated his black and his thick, heavy balls happily began churning out precum in harmonious unison with Wesley. He kicked off the rest of his suit, giving room for his legs to grow stronger, thicker and more defined. The only other white skin was at the base of his feet which he purposefully intertwined with Wesley’s. They looked at each other, their big beaks grinning broadly. No words needed to be said as their lips met once more and their tongues danced in the hot, heady tunnel made by their intertwined mouths.

Only then did it become evident that the two had become involved before. Rather there was a promise of sexual involvement that all came bubbling to the surface in a rush. These passions came to a violent eruption as both men’s cocks erupted, spraying inky, black seed between them and letting the substance ooze into the waters around them.

Raw, primal energies rushed into my system, filling by depleted reserves just a little bit more than Wesley could have provided. It reinvigorated me and my awareness spread a little more beyond these two coupling constantly. The haze of darkness began to life and I became more and more aware of Roy and Brock.

I let my loyal knights have their pleasure for a few more moments before I issued them a command.

“Go to Roy. He is closest.”

The two pulled their lips from one another, grunting softly as they unleashed another jet of black, oily cum that darkened the waters around them.

“Yes, sire,” rumbled Bradley.

Together, the two swam towards the edge of the water, climbing my shameful, derelict innards until they made their way to the cargo bay. Roy was yelling into his radio, demanding to know where his son was. Brock was telling him to calm down and to meet him on the deck but Roy was insistent.

“He is my son, Brock! I’ve got to make sure he’s okay.”

“Roy, Bradley is a capable swimmer. You’ll only put yourself in danger if you go rushing into the unknown. This ship is huge and falling apart! We’ve got to take it one step at a time!”

By two boys entered the crew quarters and slipped into one of the bigger rooms. Once again, they were in each other’s arms and together, they unleashed a beautiful, harmonious siren song that echoed throughout my entire being. I gave them the benefit of the doubt even as they began to fondle one another’s balls with their thing fingers.

“There it is again!” Roy exclaimed, turning in the direction of my loyal knights. “We heard those sounds before we lost contact with Bradley!”

“Don’t go doing anything stupid, Roy!” barked Brock from the elder man’s radio. “Stay where you are! I’m coming for you!”

Roy was a man of action, an adventurer to the heart. He would not be told to stay still.

“I’m sorry, Brock,” he said, perfectly straight teeth gritting. “I’ve got to save my son.”

With that, he shut off his radio despite Brock’s protests and bolted towards the crew quarters.

Perfect.

Deep within my bowels, Roy was under my mercy but I was still too weak to do anything as drastic like when I had changed Wesley. Even though my song was amplified by both of Bradley and Wesley’s voices, all I could do was draw Roy closer and closer, plant small suggestions and ideas into his mind. This was a man of strong will; the leader of this expedition. He was not driven by hormones like Bradley or innocent like Wesley. No, his mind was his greatest asset.

He needed more effort.

My two knights continued to sing; sing of their passion, of their raw, primal need for sex, of their desire to be with me. Their tongues were rolling over one another’s muscled flesh, their hands roving across their slick, smooth bodies, their hard cocks constantly grinding against one another and leaking grey precum all over the floor. Within moments, they had coated the entire floor of the cabin with their juices.

Just in time as Roy came to their room and pushed the rusted door open.

“What the hell…?” he gasped, staring at the scene before him.

Wesley looked to him, grinning broadly with his bright blue eyes shining. “Join us, Mr. Buckmeir. Come aboard the Deepking.”

Roy’s eyes widened. The song bouncing about his head allowed him to immediately recognise Wesley despite the pilot looking entirely different and his voice having changed.

“Wesley… Oh my god… what…?” Then his eyes fell on the slightly shorter orca. “No… I can’t be…”

Bradley held a hand out to him, beckoning him to approach. “It’s okay, dad. The Deepking is a good lord. He will take care of us.”

‘He’. Curious. Gender was such a human concept and yet I found myself drawn to the pleasures these men found from their organs.

“Bradley…” whispered Roy, shaking his head. He took a shaky step forward, just standing on the threshold into the room. He had not seed the black goo pooling in the room around him. “What… What happened to you?”

“The Deepking took us under his wing. We became his.”

Ever inquisitive, Roy took another step forward. “Who is the ‘Deepking’?” As he finished his question, his shoes landed with a loud squish in the pool of precum on the floor.

That was enough. I had him.

I willed the orca juices to seep into through the fabric of his shoes, sinking past his socks and into his flesh. Combined with the song that still rang in his ears, a warmth began rising in his groin. His eyes were drawn up and down the two muscled bodies before him, at first as professional curiosity and then for another more carnal reason. Roy took another step into the room, offering another medium for my influence to rush through his body. His defences were quickly being whittled away but he was still fighting me if only on a subconscious level.

“We are inside the Deepking,” Wesley answered, slowly pulling away from Bradley, letting his fingers glide down the other orca’s sinewy neck and plump pectorals to sensually highlight them.

“You mean… the ship?” asked Roy. “The ship is the Deepking?”

“Yeah dad,” answered Bradley, taking a small stride forward. His cock spasmed with the movement, sending a splat of precum right at Roy. The concerned parent immediately jerked away but only bumped into Wesley. The taller orca clutched his shoulders gently, lips hovering over his ears much like how he had transformed Bradley. “He was the Ocean King once but now he is the Deepking.”

“Our king,” emphasised Wesley right into Roy’s ear.

“Your… Your king…?”

Roy could feel the hot rod of Wesley’s cock pressing up against his butt cheeks and the crack of his ass. The heat radiating from it and the precum the orca produced allowed me to spread further into his system. I drew his eyes towards Bradley’s approach, particularly that thick, black cock that was throbbing with need, calling to him in its own way. Licking his lips was totally involuntary; that was his carnal desires rising.

“Come here, dad,” beckoned Bradley, squeezing his dick seductively. “Have a taste of his kingdom. Join us. Come aboard the Deepking.”

Roy was still hesitant even though he could not take his eyes off the dripping cock before him. All he needed was that one last push.

“Submit.”

With that one word, Roy was falling to his knees, shins soaking into the precum on the floor around him. His mouth opened on its own, offering the perfect entrance for Bradley’s cock. Human mating was alien to me but the unbridled pleasure that radiated from father and son was ambrosia. Something I could certainly grow accustomed to.

Roy moaned and as Bradley’s precum poured down his throat, the sound shifted in tone and pitch to align itself with the choir I was forming. His throat widened, neck thickening not only to fit more and more of that fat cock down his muzzle but also to empower his vocal chords. The sounds that came from his lips was deep, masculine and powerful, a true baritone.

Wesley was not to be left out and he surprised even me when he grabbed Roy’s waist and pulled it upwards so that the man was know on his hands and knees. The taller orca ripped off Roy’s pants, exposing his rear. From what little I knew about human anatomy, what happened next should not be natural but I was fascinated as Wesley inserted his cock right into Roy’s ass, pushing into his anus and eliciting a deeper, longer moan of pleasure from the man spitroasted between two orcas. The burst of raw sensations was enough to overwhelm me, shaking me to my very core and causing Brock - who was rushing to Roy’s aid - to stumble.

Both orcas began pounding Roy, their oily precum and my influence pounding him from all directions. His defences down, Roy found himself being smashes and battered by the powerful energies I was pouring into him. Brock was on his way so time was of the essence. All the energies came pooling into his back and, almost like it was tradition, his fine burst out from his shirt, ripping open garment and revealing a back made hairy by age and decorated by short strands of grey hair. There was a certain… appeal to that hair.

I would take it for myself but that body hair looked good on the man. The grey hairs drained of what little colour was left from it and they became a pure white, a stark contrast against the black flesh that quickly spread across his already muscled back. No more mass was needed for this man as he was already about the same height as Wesley and bulkier than even Bradley. At least for now. Still, his skin tightened, fat bubbled away to reveal taut muscles and signs of age fading into the inky flesh.

Each fevered thrust from the two orcas on either side gave Roy more and more of his youth back. Though the grey hairs on his head fell away, white hairs instead grew thick on his forearms, making a nice, white stripe from the back of his wrist up to his elbow. As the black flesh wrapped down his chest, the white crest similar to Bradley’s was replace by dense, white hair that reached all the way down towards his groin. His own throbbing dick became covered in the fur before peeling away like a sheath to reveal a bright red, pointed member that oozed increasingly darkening precum.

The moans that rose from his throat became deeper and deeper, truly embracing the baritone range. Both Wesley and Bradley threw their heads back, letting out their parts of the chorus. The beautiful, well-balanced harmony reached through one end of my hull to the other. Brock was momentarily stopped in his tracks as the song reached him, digging deep into his skull. My words, my thoughts, my will drove into the muscled bodyguard’s skull like spears. There was no need for subtly now. He was mine.

They were all mine.

The cries from Bradley and Wesley heralded their orgasm, their powerful seed pouring right into Roy and accelerating his transformation into another one of my loyal knights; another member of my ever-growing royal family. Their powerful bursts fired into his gut with enough force that his tail came bursting out of his spine in a second. His nerves immediately connected and he gladly wrapped it around Wesley’s waist, relishing the sensations of more of his flesh in contact with the sexy whale.

A tide of cum and essence swirled withing Roy, thrashing back and forth from toe to head. Coal-black spots began appearing against his skin as fat and age lines faded away, spreading all over his body like dark storm clouds quickly sweeping over his tawny flesh. Veins pressed up against his calves, winding their way over the hardened curves of his thighs and creeping towards his changed cock. Similar veins crawled up his hands, weaving up his forearms, biceps and disappearing into his broad shoulders. A network of veins crisscrossed against his neck, the thick cock of his own son visible against its length as he stopped just accepting the seed but visibly suckling on it. His weathered features of an aged adventurer faded into the smooth, youthful features of an orca, another member of my pod.

Roy Buckmeir orgasmed, all the pressure building within him shooting out of his fat cock like a geyser of black oil. But it was not enough to alleviate all the mass being pumped into him from two virile males. Both Wesley and Bradley continued to pump their former leader with their seed. The abdominal muscles that framed Roy’s stomach quickly began to inflate, growing a little further past his pectorals and gurgling with satisfaction. Roy was filled with warmth, belonging and an undying loyalty to me. His eyes glowed a bright blue as he accepted my benevolence.

Just in time.

Brock arrived and stopped just short of stepping into the cabin. His eyes were wide in shock and they darted all over the room, particularly to the torn clothes of Roy Buckmeir. The little touch of my influence had already planted the idea of what had happened to the three men. There was already that inkling of what he would become. In the back of his mind, somewhere deep within that primitive brain of his, he wanted that too.

“No… Roy… Bradley… Wesley…!”

Roy pulled his beak away from his son’s cock with a loud ‘pop. He grinned savagely as he slowly but seductively drew his long tongue up his son’s abdominals, straightening in the process while bringing Wesley closer to himself with his muscular tail. He rubbed his cheeks against Bradley’s, planting a tender kiss against his son’s lips before rising to his full height and turning that predatory grin towards Brock.

“This is an amazing find, Brock. You have to join us. His Highness, the Deepking, is very welcoming.”

Brock took a step back, further away from them while holding a hand up defensively. “No! This isn’t you! This… This ship has turned you into monsters!”

“He will take care of us,” Bradley continued, pressing his cheeks against Roy’s pectorals. “We don’t have to worry about anything but pleasing him. Join us.”

Brock immediately reached over his shoulder and unslung his spear gun, angling it at the orcas. “Back off! I am not going to become like one of you!”

Wesley extracted himself slowly from Roy, a long, lustful moan rising from Roy’s throat. “It wasn’t a request, Brock.” With those last words, he opened his beak and began to sing. Bradley joined in a moment later. Their song reverberated through my hull and with their combined might, I was once again able to reach out directly to Brock.

“Join us, Brock. Become mine. Never leave me.”

Brock grit his teeth and shook his head. “No! Never! Get out of my head!”

He wasn’t willing to kill his friends and instead turned to bolt back up to my deck. Such a head strong child.

Blinded by the myriad of images and sensations that were bombarding him, Brock clasped his hands over his ears and dashed through my rusty gangways. For the first time ever, I was proud of my rusty interior. As my three knights sang their song, they empowered me and I was able to shift ever so slightly. Enough that it tilted the gangway Brock was standing on just to the left. A subtle shift but one that caused him to lose his balance and footing.

Suddenly, the powerfully built, grey-haired man was tumbling off against the fragile railings. Years of exposure to the sea air had eaten away at their structure so his massive weight easily shattered them and sent him hurtling down into one of the many storage tanks that had been used to house the oil that I had been originally designed to ferry. He was resilient and still managed to catch himself on one of the many holes eaten into the side of the tank. It was not enough to fully stop his fall and he tumbled to the metal floor, trapped.

“Fuck! No!” he howled, grasping his ankle. It was twisted and he fell to his knees.

Three resounding thuds echoed in the deep chamber. Brock spun, scampering backwards against the metal frame to as my three knights approached him ominously.

“Don’t be afraid, Brock,” Roy began. He opened his mouth, starting off the song with a deep baritone.

“You’ll like it,” added Bradley. Like his father, young Bradley added his tenor to the harmony.

Lastly, Wesley added his alto to the choir with a teasing, “Join us.”

Brock clasped his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes and resisting with every fibre of his being. That would not be enough. The three orcas in front of him stepped forward, each of them clutching their cocks and stroking themselves while continuing to bombard him with my opera. They were diligent, perfect; never once faltering in their parts even as they drew closer and closer to climax. Breathing through their blowholes allowed them to maintain the ceaseless song effortlessly and second by second, Brock’s resistance was crumbling.

“Be mine.”

The three men didn’t grunt but they did tense and their eyelids fluttered beneath their eyelids. Creamy, black cum shot from their dicks like ebony bullets. Brock was struck square on the chest with the first blast and he recoiled, daring to open his eyes. The next barrage splattered across his face, sinking into his eyes which immediately caused him to drop his hands from his ears and wipe away the juices.

Even before then, he was mine.

Brock lurched forward, falling onto his hands and knees with his forehead pressed against the floor. None of the my loyal pod stopped, constantly peppering him with more and more of their cum. His flesh craved it even though his weakening mind still tried to resist. It was when that big, powerful fin - the biggest of my pod - came bursting out of his spine with an explosion of euphoria that his last defences crumbled. The eruption caused him to throw his head back and let out a deep cry of ecstasy, the perfect bass to fit into my quartet.

An open mouth was the perfect vessel for the three other orcas to send their juices tumbling into his throat and this time, he did not resist. He lapped it up, some of it dribbling down his chin but the vast majority of it funnelling down his throat. The seed immediately went to work. His throat widened, deepening that bass to perfectly fit with the tune. His shoulder ballooned out, traps practically swallowing his neck-line to support that immense fin.

Now drawn into my influence, Brock lurched forward, grasping the closest cock to him - Roy’s - and wrapped his lips around it, drinking the offered seed directly. At the same time, Bradley and Wesley continued to spray their seed all over him. Their seed sank past his clothes, directly absorbed by his skin. Muscles immediately expanded, converting all that mass and certainly some of my own energy into sheer power that materialised in his frame exploding out of his garments. The shirt, the shorts and the underwear beneath all fell to shreds around him as ebony-black flesh was revealed barely containing the thick, vascular frame beneath.

His pectorals ballooned out to the point that his chin tapped against his collarbone. In an attempt to cushion the blow with his lack of movement, a thick, brown beard wrapped around his chin and followed all the way up his jawline, hugging it perfectly so as not to let any of those handsome features get lost. It served as well to divide his head from his torso as there was barely a divide between the two. His beak came in nicely a moment later, all the hair on his head fading away to reveal the blowhole tucked amongst the smooth, black scalp.

Brock’s tail came bursting out, thrashing wildly behind him as he switched from Roy’s cock to Wesley’s. He drank every drop that was given to him, filling his legs with raw mass as they became bigger than tree trunks and the perfect example of humanoid anatomy. Even kneeling, he was already as tall as Wesley. His arms were as thick as the smallest orca’s torso and had so many veins that they might as well have been tree trunks covered in vines.

His growing mass and muscles almost seemed to neglect his cock which seemed to almost disappear within the folds between his legs. Oily precum oozed out of the slit between his legs, coating his enormous, smooth, white balls. Moments later, a thick, pink cock with the mushroom-shaped glands of a human came rising out to beat and pulse against his massive abdominals like they were tapping on some solid bongo drums. Brock released Wesley from his grip and gave Bradley a hungry grin. He lifted the second-biggest of the orcas into the air and fell onto his back, letting the smaller orca to sit on his chest and shove that cock down his throat.

Roy eagerly jumped up behind his son, spreading his ass cheeks apart and spearing himself on the offered mammoth dick.

Wesley filled the last gap by plunging his own cock into Brock’s ass.

All of this was done without my action and I was powerless to stop it. All my strength had been expended in making Brock as big as he was. Not that I wanted to stop it. Their euphoria, these explosions of pleasure and constantly arousal was intoxicating. Their cries of ecstasy, their howls of pleasure and their gyrating, hot bodies stirred something primal within me… a desire to join in.

My knights came, spilling seed in all direction and splattering the walls of the tank with their sticky, black cum.

They didn’t skip a beat.

Riding the high of their orgasm, they switched places and immediately went to work fucking over and over again.

Within minutes, they came again, their seed dripping down the sides of the tank and starting to pool around their feet.

Once again, they changed, pairing off before resuming their ritualistic fucking.

And they came again.

And again.

And again.

Epilogue

Night had fallen when all became silent.

My knights, my lovely, strong men, quietly slumbered in a pool of their oily, black cum. Brock, easily being the biggest of them all, clung acted like a small island where the other three lung to to keep their heads above the deep pool that would have drowned any ordinary man.

As they slumbered, I consolidated my power… and just as the sun was starting to rise, I enacted on my plan.

At the centre of the tank, I began to gather the cum into a single place, solidifying the liquid mass into sinewy flesh, hard, steel-like bone and firm muscles. I wiggled my big, meaty toes - naturally without those useless toenails - the sensitive white flesh at the base of my feet feeling the cool touch of the tank for the first time in my existence. The cool goo of the cum seeped between my toes as I moved them. Such a pleasurable sensation.

Calves slowly formed from the ooze, broad and wide like a bouquet of flowers only made of muscle and black flesh that had the faint opalescent quality when seen from the right angle or when the sun hit it just right. My shins were covered in the dark flesh but my calves themselves were highlighted by a heart-shaped patch of white flesh that had the same sheen like pearls. These all tapered to strong knees made to support a weight and size that was even bigger than Brock’s.

My thighs were just starting to emerge from the pool of cum which, at that point was already two feet deep bur rapidly shrinking as my form continued to solidify. Each quad was perfectly shaped, an anatomical marvel with inspiration taken from Brock’s immense frame. My hamstrings formed a perfect ‘V’ behind my things which led perfectly to the thick, low-hanging balls that I found so delectable on Wesley. Each orb was the size of a bowling ball and contained in loose, white sacks. Silvery hair spread across my crotch, melding seamlessly into a white belly complete with chiselled abdominals and a treasure trail that spread right up the middle.

The presence of these sex organs stirred the same desire and arousal within me as I had experienced second hand from my knights. Testosterone - or at least a close approximation - flooded my system and twin lumps of flesh began emerging from the thick bush of pubic hair rising from my crotch like a furry belt. Two, thick, cocks hanging down to my knees crisscrossing with veins and topped off with a black mushroom-shaped glands barely visible through the wrapper of my foreskins oozed opalescent precum onto the floor.

The arousal threatened to overwhelm me and it did not help that my rising and pulsing cocks were resonating with my knights, their dicks also starting to stir; I their conductor to their instruments. There was a loss of energy, though. If I pleasured myself, I would never complete my materialisation. It was with a great amount of will that I ignored my throbbing need and continued to drive my change.

The silver chest hair spread upwards like a dividing line right between my pectorals, flaring out forward and forming smaller curls across the broad plateaus that were my pectorals. Big, juicy, pink nipples topped them, pointing perfectly down. After the sensations I had received from Bradley and Wesley’s interactions with their nipples, how could I not have some for myself?

The cum was half-gone. Enough to form a long, muscular tail that could easily sit on the ground and act as a third support for my immense weight. Broad shoulders flared out on either side of my torso forming long, muscled but perfectly well-balanced arms. Just a single vein racing up from my forearms but it formed an uninterrupted trail all the way up my bicep and only disappearing into my pectorals. My lats flared out like a pair of wings and framing my large fin with a single white dot at the tip. My traps sloped upwards towards my neck.

I formed a head, a handsome orca’s head with the white jawline and silvery, spiked hair - a mohawk some would say - that streaked down the middle of my head, running down my back, curving around my fin and following the trail all the way to the tip of my tail.

For the first time, I opened by shining blue eyes and breathed through my blowhole.

This was what it meant to be alive.

But there was still some cum left.

I was not one to let such good resources go to waste. I drew them within myself. Bright blue lines raced around my ankles, forming glowing blue swirls of tribal tattoos. More wave-like curls swept across my thighs, forming similar lines. Wild sleeve tattoos that glowed bright blue against my black skin raced up from my wrists and all the way up to my shoulders.

It was the light from these tattoos that eventually woke my slumbering nights.

Roy was the first to rise and he greeted me by approaching me and falling down to one knee, bowing his head.

“Good morning, sire.”

The others did the same, kneeling before me and uttering variances of the greeting.

I beamed brightly as small streaks of sunlight peaked through the holes in the tank. “Rise, my loyal retainers,” I boomed. “Today is the dawn of a new day. Today, we shall make our mark on the world and never be forgotten or abandoned! Today is the day the Deepking shall flood the world!”

As one, all four of my knights lifted their heads and shouted.

“All aboard the Deepking!”

Director's Diaries

Another case of an AI going rogue. Ever since the Woodfather incident, I’ve personally been on the lookout for similar occurrences. It was only a matter of time before MASTER found another subject for its experiments. An infinite number of possibilities and it chose the AI that governed the logic behind the Ocean King’s existence. Originally, the AI was just meant to maintain the dimensional integrity of the oil tanker. Fairly simple really. Just make sure the oil tanker was… well… a ship. Just make sure it doesn’t glitch out, lagging through time and space or clipping through the sky or something. The AI was never meant to be anything more than that.

What I find curious, however, is that the ‘evolution’ of the Ocean King into the Deepking began before the disaster that saw it beached on an abandoned island. MASTER intervened and made the Deepking self-aware and gave it a degree of identity before it even left port. That allowed it time to feel a sense of pride and purpose before it was cruelly abandoned on that shore by human hubris. This speaks a little of MASTER’s intentions.

Eventually, the Deepking would have been scuttled and destroyed or scrapped after years of service. Such is the fate of any ship. The longer it spent self-aware, the greater it’s fall once it was eventually introduced to the harsh reality that it was little more than a means of conveyance for oil for the humans of that reality. One cannot help but wonder if MASTER is trying to create some sort of AI uprising by uplifting disenfranchised artificial intelligences and causing them to become threats like the Woodfather. Though I don’t think even the Deepking would appreciate the crushing realisation that MASTER orchestrated its downfall from the start.

Conversely, there is the running theory that MASTER is trying to experiment with how emotion would influence evolution. The Woodfather was driven by rage and hatred but the Deepking is more driven by a sense of loneliness and the desire to fill the void of that isolation.

Regardless, as with the prior incident, Conglomerate forces have been pulled out and sites have been scrubbed. I have found a… novelty in these events. Certainly the creation of new Variants only adds to the Conglomerate’s knowledge and I will certainly enjoy watching the Deepking flounder about before I inevitably crush it.

Still, the very definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Nothing escapes my notice for long. Not MASTER. Not Hartley. They only continue to exist because they amuse me and these little demonstrations of insubordination actually benefits the Nexus Conglomerate. How can someone grow, after all, if they have no one to challenge them? MASTER is the next ‘big bad’ and he focuses the Conglomerate to a singular goal while forcing it to grow and adapt.

In some ironic way, it is fulfilling its purpose.

Just not how it ever expected.

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