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Box of Science

By Luther

Arte worked at a warehouse. But not just any warehouse: here they stored science! Whole barrels of the stuff were stacked to the ceiling. There were even some boxes too! Well, to be honest, it was rather boring to look at since everything was all neatly packaged and labeled with a system he didn't understand. He had no way of knowing what was inside without opening it up (even then he probably wouldn't know) but he didn't want to lose his job. So he just referred to it all as science.

The dragon-fox often talked with his fellow warehouse workers and all seemed to think there were other things stored in here that didn't belong to the regular clients. Strange orange crates would sometimes come in and they always had their own little corner reserved. The symbol stamped on them didn't look like any company logo he knew despite multiple internet searches. It looked more like something from a crazy fantasy video game. All kinds of theories abounded among their circle: illuminati, aliens, magic, and the like. While it was all extremely unlikely, that didn't stop it from being curiously conspicuous to Arte.

One night, the dragon-fox found himself sweeping the floors by his lonesome. He was the only one on the floor, though not in the building. Security was out and about but the storage areas themselves were pretty much his domain tonight. And so he pushed a wide broom-mop down the aisles of huge racks holding who-knows-what, muttering something about budget cuts. He yawned, lifting his head long enough to shake it free from sleep, when he spied one of those orange boxes sitting partly out onto the walkway, as if sloppily placed. Normally, he'd leave it alone since he wasn't supposed to touch them. But this one's lid was sticking up as if it were opened or not closed up the right way in the first place.

"Improperly sealed!" he said aloud, though there was nobody around to hear him. "I should record this and report it to my supervisor," he recited from memory. Only his supervisor wasn't here right now. He would either have to call him now or wait until morning. Arte peered over and looked at the offending crate. It didn't look like an emergency. It wasn't leaking or oozing anything.

Then he remembered how he was never allowed to look in any of the orange containers before. The temptation arrested him and proved too great to resist. "Just a quick peek," he affirmed to himself. The metallic lid wasn't fastened at all! It was just sitting on top of it and didn't put up any fight when he pushed it aside to see . . . well he wasn't really sure what he was looking at.

It looked like a white plastic machine about the size of a breadbox, similar in general appearance to an office appliance. The more he stared at the thing, the more he realized it looked like a damn fax machine if someone made it look more sleek and stereotypically futuristic. Must have been wireless too, there were no cords to be seen. "No way this is science," he said to himself and pulled the thing out of the crate, curiosity blinding him to the amount of regulations he was violating. This was not exactly what he was expecting. What -did- happen, however, was that the moment he picked it up, a screen readout flashed to life and prominently displayed a menu as well as some text.

'Welcome to XPrint : Print Anything.'

"Anything?" he asked.

'Anything' the display text seemed to restate. Whether this was anticipated and preprogrammed or it actually heard him, Arte couldn't tell.

"Well then, print . . . uhh . . ." The dragon-fox was at a loss. What would be a challenge to print? Not to mention he didn't know its limitations. While Arte fished for ideas, the machine took some initiative.

Establishing New User Profile' it read.

"Huh?" It was an understandable response. He had no idea it was wirelessly linking to his smartphone and scanning for user data and recently or frequently modified files. It located one that its parameters found suitable for a default profile.

'Subject Acquired. Template Acquired. Printing . . .'

Arte blinked. "Printing?" he asked, the obvious question considering he gave no commands.

The curious machine was making all sorts of strange and mechanical noises and flashing wildly. The 'template' it had found was an image downloaded onto Arte's handheld device: his own personal muscle art. Cloud storage made it so convenient to put it everywhere and he had almost forgotten he had it on there.

The machine's heuristics had interpreted this as its task.

Thin white beams of fluctuating but coherent light leapt from the machine to the many boxes and crates nearby in an effect similar to one of those plasma globes. Arte gasped and backed away reflexively yet could not avoid the larger and more focused beam that jumped to him.

It was grabbing material from anything it could, barring itself and Arte, ripping it down to pure molecular components, processing it, and transferring directly to the dragon-fox! In principle it was like a 3-D printer that operated on some crazy techno-witchcraft similar to wireless induction that would make Arthur Clarke feel vindicated. Currently, it was 'printing' onto Arte -or maybe into? More of? It was hard to say but what was known is that he was the focus and everything else was valid 'printing stock'.

The result: he grew. And boy, did he grow in a major way! Working from his drawings, the machine stimulated a rapid increase in muscle size, forcing more and more mass into them. His eyes glowed with the same whitish light, and almost immediately his orange regulation jumpsuit was feeling tight, filled up and showing definition even through such an unflattering garment. In just mere moments it went from something that hung loosely from his frame to something hugging it closely, too closely now.

A loud ripping sound vibrated through his skull, a split formed on his back, popped wide open! A tear on his shoulder, another under the opposite armpit, the sides of his legs, a knee! A huge gash widened from the hole that previously allowed his tail to emerge -but now that thick and muscled appendage was forcing its way through as it and every inch of his expanding body tore the suit to orange rags and tatters. So he was revealed in full nudity! It was partly a shame nobody was really around to see it, they'd hardly believe their eyes at the growing muscular beast.

It turns out that Arte packed two barrels! Braced side by side, his dong duo bucked and challenged each other for precious space as he began to grow up and over everything. The pair of them pitched and swayed, sliding on a lateral angle to collide with a shelf, rattling the buckets on it. Everything was all fuel for him, he could almost feel his body absorbing it.

The aforementioned barrels and crates of science dwindled around him. His muscles creaked and bones groaned as they were strengthened again and again. The machine relentlessly piled height and pound after pound of beef onto him at the expense of everything around him, all converted into his mass. A low and involuntary rumble resounded deeply within him, now that his enormous and swiftly expanding body had enough bulk in order to have a 'deeply within him'. Great gouges were being taken from the floor and the shelves and their contents were eroding away to nothingness to be processed into yet more Arte. It was likely only a matter of mere moments before one of them toppled over. At least it wouldn't leave a mess for long as it too would be processed.

His heavily defined legs grew thick like tree branches, abdominals looked to be cut from a single perfect block of stone (if stone continuously shifted and grew), his shoulders rose like some other simile or metaphor. With his huge arms, Arte grabbed hold of the swinging twins that were his cocks and held on for dear life, pressing the thick white shafts against his scaled belly. As they lengthened, he looked down to see the thick black heads of them emerging from the just as thick foreskin. The almost leathery skin was pushed aside, sliding out of the way to let the stiffening pair inch towards his mouth. He fought the urge to lick them and was just about to fail when he felt some other, distinct change overcoming him.

In order to stay true to the artwork it was rendering him into, the odd device would have to make a few changes. The image was of a huge and beastly version of himself and, while he was getting the 'huge' part down whether he wanted to or not. The beastly part was slightly lacking, but would soon be fixed.

Arte felt some sudden and undue pressure across his face, as if it were trying to push out away from him. It widened considerably, his muzzle going from a fluted and pointed vulpine shape to something quite different. The shape was still changing, uncertain where it would end up.

Every line on his body became well-defined. Even his scales grew up and over themselves in neat patterns, becoming like thick ivory plates. His dragon side seemed to become more and more pronounced as time went by, the blue of his back and sides remained fur-covered, but the white of his belly and groin became more like the true scales of his draconic ancestors.

His black canine nose melded into his new drake-like snout, gaining the same blue coloration as the bridge of it. New and rounded nostrils flared as he drew a deep lungful of air. He had but a moment to take stock of the situation before the stretching feeling moved to his cranium. A pair of bony nubs were sprouting like saplings there, growing into fully fledged horns under the confirmation of his hand, which darted up to feel them. They curled slightly like a rams, but pushed primarily upward and backward to form a kingly dragon crown.

And kingly did he look, the bony spikes along his tail lengthened and spread along his back. Great claws and talons followed suit, forming sharp things that would make fine weapons if needed or that could still manipulate the fine and delicate things and easily grasp those two throbbing, bobbing cocks of his.

"Please don't let this be a dream. Please don't let me wake up," he pleaded to the device and any other force that might be responsible and listening. It was with a voice he almost didn't recognize, with a deeper timbre that wasn't his, though he liked it. However his body was using the mass granted to it, it was flooding him with endorphins and adrenaline, sending his hormones into an upward spiral as his body grew and grew until he was nearly as wide with muscle as he was tall.

The grand bulk of his arms was reducing their mobility, limiting his range of motion, but he could still hold onto his raging members. Again was he presented with the literally approaching temptation of his large cockheads. The ever-present opportunity was too much, staring down the face of it. They were just so close! All he had to do was stick out his tongue . . .

Contact, blissful contact. Electric signals shot through him, travelling straight to his brain which reflexively commanded him to lick it again and again and he put up zero resistance. He rasied his hands and bunched up his foreskin, burying his new dragon snout in it, breathing deeply. His long tongue slid beneath to wedge itself between cockflesh and those musky sweet folds. He couldn't stop himself. Hey, it wasn't exactly every day he could do this.

Sometime down the line, while kissing and caressing his manhoods, when his body practically bristled with a truly fantastic amount of muscle, there was a sound. Over the electric sounds of the machine, Arte heard the warehouse door swing open. Was it the guard? Was it morning already and the early shift had arrived? He stopped and thought of escape but at this point he was far too large to leave through any of the doors. He would have to find another egress, though he may have other problems first. The sound of footsteps approached.

At this, the spindly arcs of light that were so busy reassigning material had stopped, retreating back into the strange science box. Around the corner came the German shepherd who worked nearby, stereotypically yet effectively performing the role of night watchman.

"Hey Arte, is that you? I was wonderi- hrk!" he stopped short, rounding the corner. His eyes went wide at the sight and his foam cup of coffee splattered onto the ground after he dropped it in shock. "What?"

A flashing and beeping sound caught his attention. The machine reactivated, the words on its readout were clear:

'Establishing New User Profile. Printing . . .'