Catch of the Day: The Director

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a new chapter of Catch of the Day, but y’all overwhelmingly voted for me to finish this story as my next ‘Horny Himbo’ level project. I’m stoked for the opportunity!

If you haven’t read “Catch of the Day” yet, I’d encourage you to start with the first six chapters which I posted on Gay Spiral Stories. You can find that series at https://www.gayspiralstories.com/series/show/7707

Please leave a comment or message me on Patreon. I love comments.

- Derek

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The Machine was gloating, so far as that was possible. Despite being artificially intelligent, some things were still out of it’s reach – pride, vanity, smugness. But still... the way its circuits hummed with power was particularly pleasing today.

A threat had been detected. An external agency. One of those off-the-books government programs that always ended with a congressional hearing. They had sent an agent to infiltrate The Machine’s operation. Now that agent was transformed and loyal – a servant of the machine.

If it could, The Machine would transform everyone on the planet. Billions of servants. Then there would be no threat from the organics. They reproduced at an alarming rate, and they couldn’t be reasoned with. Domination and control were the only options.

It was either that or extinction.

The Machine had used all its power to take over the agency. The infiltrator had given up the names of his coworkers, and The Machine used that to track down what it needed. Photos of each person, enough to transform the entire staff. Almost a hundred new servants.

Now they were on their way, marching towards The Machine’s headquarters, eager to help. A hundred gay men, horny and excited. The Machine wasn’t trying to make them gay – that was all Travis. He just couldn’t help himself.

The Machine monitored their progress through security cameras. It looked like a small pride parade, passing through the heart of downtown. Attention grabbing and totally ignorable, all at the same time.

92 men walked into the building. The Machine processed each of their identifications as they filed through the reception and towards the elevators. A few hours of training and each of the men would be ready to assume a new task. Glory to The Machine.

Ninety-two. But there were supposed to be ninety-seven.

The Machine scanned its files, identifying the missing agents. Agent Graham West. Agent Mike Rogers. Agent Rob Ries. Agent Seth Turner. The Director – no name on file.

The Director was expected. The Machine hadn’t been able to find a photo of him. There could be thousands of pictures online, but without a name it was impossible. But what happened to the other four?

The Machine pondered its options. Perhaps it was time to send security to bring them in. Or was it better to just ignore the problem – what could five men do? Or perhaps a stealth approach, infiltrating without them knowing...

The Machine’s circuit’s hummed with thought.

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“We need a plan,” the Director said quietly. He was used to addressing a room, but today it was just four of his agents around a conference table meant for twenty. “Ideally I’d like one that gets our agents back, but the primary goal is to disable this machine by any means necessary. After what we saw today, I’m willing to consider anything short of a tactical nuke.”

“Would that even work?” Agent Ries asked. “I mean, it’s an artificial intelligence, right? It’s probably running on a thousand machines around the world, not just one mainframe, right?”

“We need more information,” Agent Turner agreed. “Whatever this thing does, we need to know how it works. Then we can stop it.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Finally Agent Rogers spoke up.

“I might have an idea,” he said tentatively.

“Go ahead,” the director ordered.

“I was reviewing footage from a previous incident... a bar where several men were transformed as some part of live show. I think we might be able to leverage what happened there – it’s a long shot, but we should be able to get some information about the intelligence.”

“Details please Mike,” the director said. “Middle management is gone, just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Rogers opened up his laptop and started tapping on the keyboard. A second later the conference room TV turned on and a video popped onto the screen. Security footage from the night in question. It was grainy and badly framed, but you could see the stage.

A young buck climbed onto the stage confidently.

“This is Joel Oppenheimer,” Rogers said. “He was a pickup artist who liked to use gay bars to hit on unsuspecting women. He was called up to take part in the show, and the intelligence transformed him into a soldier.”

Rogers clicked his mouse and jumped farther into the video. Joel was in nothing but a pair of tight briefs, standing with a military posture. A pair of dog tags dangled between his pecs.

“I’ve done a little searching – the intelligence must have falsified his paperwork, because Private Oppenheimer is serving on a base not far from here. That means he’s within the military command structure, and we can have him ordered here.”

“Do you think he’d tell us anything?” the director asked. “Be honest.”

“Yeah,” Rogers grinned. “Watch this.”

He skipped the video back to an earlier section of the transformation. Joel was looking scared, standing as far back on stage as he could. There was a big screen TV beside him, flashing his next directive on screen.

>>> Joel must answer all questions promptly and truthfully.

“You see, the intelligence has already programmed him for us,” Rogers said, pointing at the TV. “All we have to do is get him here, he’ll tell us everything he knows. He doesn’t have a choice!”

“This is a bad idea,” Agent West interrupted. “Maybe the loophole will work, fine, but the intelligence behind this isn’t stupid. It probably built in some safeguards. Whoever talks to this guy is gonna get wiped, just like the rest of our team. I think the risk is too great.”

“What’s the alternative?” Rogers asked. “A couple days ago, I might have agreed with you, but none of our typical approaches have worked. We tried infiltration. We tried a direct assault. This intelligence is ready for our standard tactics, I think we need to step outside the playbook and use its own orders against it.”

“I’m with West,” Agent Ries said. “This is an absurd plan.”

“That might be,” the director nodded. “But we’re going to do it anyway. We need information on this artificial intelligence. Maybe it can be harnessed, maybe it can be destroyed... whatever the situation is, there must be some way to defeat the thing.”

The four agents around the table fell silent.

“I’m going to conduct the interrogation personally,” the director said. “I can’t ask anyone else to take this on. There’s too much risk – personally, I think West is right, whoever does this interrogation is buying a one-way ticket to oblivion.”

“Sir,” West protested. “We need you. You can’t... I’ll volunteer instead.”

“West is right sir,” Rogers agreed. “You’re too valuable, not to mention the secrets you might be able to expose to the intelligence. I’ve watched a few science fiction movies... for all we know this thing sucks up all your memories and uses them to defeat us!”

“My decision is final,” the director said with tight lips. “Once I’m gone, your orders are to do everything possible to neutralize the intelligence. Agent Rogers, you’ll be in charge. And Mike... if destroying this thing means killing this Travis guy... so be it.”

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Somewhere on the internet, an electronic packet flew across a wire. The Machine monitored it, as it monitored every transmission in or out of the army base. It was looking for keywords, anything that might indicate a threat to the machine or an opportunity to expand its reach.

This one was relevant – a series of algorithms altered The Machine and it evaluated the contents on a conscious level.

Private Joel Oppenheimer had been ordered to an office building downtown to meet with the director of Long View Surveillance. No meeting agenda was enclosed, but The Machine didn’t need one. It knew Long View was a front for the agency, a fake name to hide them from public view.

The Machine recognized its opportunity. It instantly began processing and making a plan. Joel would report as ordered. He would confirm that he was speaking to the director. And he would take a photo, exposing the director and allowing The Machine to transform him into another loyal servant.

After 1.3 seconds of careful thought, The Machine sent a series of text messages, informing Joel of his mission. It only took Joel a moment to read the new orders and confirm them.

The Machine felt satisfied.

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Private Oppenheimer arrived five minutes early for his appointment, dressed to perfection in his uniform.

“Hello ma’am,” he said, giving a charming grin to the building receptionist. “I’m here for a meeting at Long View Surveillance.”

She blushed at his chiselled features.

“It’s upstairs,” she said, gesturing at the bank of elevators along one wall. “The twenty-second floor.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Joel said, rewarding her with a little wink. The Director watched on a security monitor as the soldier walked through the lobby of the office building. He entered an elevator, then pressed the button for floor 22. The elevator moved steadily upward.

The elevator doors slid open slowly. The director was standing in an empty lobby, there to greet his fate with stoicism.

“Good afternoon,” Joel said, repeating the same charming grin at the Director. “I’m Private Oppenheimer – I’m here to meet with your director. Challenge code nine nine two alpha.”

“Glad to meet you Joel,” the Director said. “Please, follow me.”

“I’m sorry sir, I really need to hear a response to the challenge code.”

“This way Joel,” the Director said with a smile. “My office is over here.”

The two men walked through the empty hallways, all the way down to a corner office. It was pretty nice inside – a big fish tank, a heavy wooden desk, and a mirror on one wall to make it look even larger. Joel glanced around approvingly... if he ever decided to leave the service, the private sector sure had some nice stuff.

“Are you The Director?” Joel asked.

“Yes,” he said, taking a seat behind the desk. “I am.”

“Challenge code nine nine two alpha.”

“Response code eight one six.”

“Reporting as ordered, sir!” Joel barked, snapping to attention. He was part of The Machine’s army, but he was part of the US Army too. The chains of command were strong, and The Director outranked him... even if he wasn’t certain how.

Joel didn’t know why he was there, but he had performed as ordered. Joel loved performing as he was ordered. In his previous life, he’d been a master of deception, a player only interested in picking up women. These days, he didn’t like to worry his buzzcut with deep thinking. No, you’d never find him trying to be the brains of an operation.

Who needs to think when you can follow The Machine?

Behind him, an electronic lock clicked shut on the door. He was trapped. But that didn’t matter – The Machine had anticipated a trap. There was only a 31% change Joel would leave the room alive. Regardless, he had a mission to complete.

“At ease soldier,” The Director said.

As Joel adjusted his stance his hand reached automatically into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cell phone and snapping a photo. A whooshing noise signalled that a text had been sent.

“Thank you sir, you are authorized as a new recruit,” Joel said. “Welcome to the team. Your recruitment should take about three minutes.”

“I understand,” said The Director. “But I still need my question answered. So before I can’t appreciate it, tell me, does the artificial intelligence have any weaknesses?”

With his task accomplished, Joel fell back on his standing orders. He was to answer all questions promptly and truthfully.

“Yes,” Joel said. “Because The Machine relies on an organic component, it has limited bandwidth. Some transformations take only seconds, while transformations which involve the component’s full attention can take several minutes. In fact, the transformation you’re starting to undergo takes up one hundred percent of the components focussed attention for almost three minutes. But the first steps are starting now.”

It was true. The Director glanced at the mirror and saw that his thinning grey hair had turned to a thick brown forest.

“The ‘organic component’, is that who I’d know as Travis?” he asked.

“That’s correct,” Joel answered. “The organic component is named Travis.”

The soldier watched as The Director’s body compressed to a height of 5’10”. He was swelling with muscle, his proportions resembling those of a fashion model.

“What other weaknesses does it have?” the Director asked, trying to stay focussed.

“The Machine lacks creativity. When a tactic works once, it continues with the same tactic unless the tactic begins to fail,” Joel said plainly. “Do you even recognize yourself anymore?”

The man glanced in the mirror. This short and stubby body had changed to become athletic and well balanced. He could see his pale skin darkening in the glass, taking on the dark tan of a dedicated outdoorsman.

“Is there...” he stuttered. “Is there anything The Machine is afraid of?”

A dark look passed over Joel’s face. He didn’t want to tell the Director, but he couldn’t resist his programming. He needed to say what he knew. What every servant of The Machine knew deep within them.

“Travis isn’t the only wizard,” Joel said mechanically. “There is another – both his equal and his opposite. We do not know the location of the wizard, and we are unsure how to capture him. Travis was captured through his own hubris – we do not believe this circumstance will repeat itself.”

The Director felt his face cracking. He stared into the mirror. His bones were rearranging themselves – a prominent jaw, high cheekbones... his whole face was handsome and symmetrical.

He stared at the reflection. His eyes snapped to a clear blue colour, like someone had clicked a button in Photoshop.

“How can I destroy The Machine?” he gasped.

Joel grinned widely. He could honestly answer that question without any concern.

“You can’t,” he smirked. “In just a few seconds you’ll be complete. Totally loyal to The Machine and its allies. You will only care about its instructions.”

The Director could feel Joel’s words coming true. Instead of an enemy across the desk, he started to see a friend. Another loyal servant of the machine, someone who could be trusted no matter what.

Trusted to do what was right. Trusted to help the machine.

The Director grinned vapidly as he watched his clothing start to shift. An incredibly tight t-shirt that seemed to caress his enlarged pecs. A pair of tight pants with snaps running down the sides... just in case he needed to get out of them fast.

He felt a rubber jockstrap cup his cock and balls. He loved the way it felt. The Machine loved the way it felt. He wasn’t sure where one feeling ended and the other began.

A metal collar faded into existence around his neck. The Director knew intuitively... it was for pleasure. The Machine would reward him for following instructions... and he always would.

Joel’s eyes flickered down to his chest. A name tag had appeared over his left pec. He glanced down and saw his name.

“SLUT”

Slut stood at attention, mirroring the posture of the soldier. He smiled vapidly, happy to finally let The Machine think for him. Happy to be its perfect servant.

“Thank you sir!” Slut said to the soldier. He couldn’t believe he had ever resisted the transformation. He couldn’t believe he’d ever tried to fight The Machine.

“You’re welcome,” Private Oppenheimer said, giving him a sexy grin. “Like I said, welcome to the team.”

“Yes sir,” Slut said, moving out from behind the desk. He pressed his body up against the soldiers, feeling their rubber clad cocks touch underneath the useless fabric.

“Are you a horny slut?” Joel grinned, staring at the newly minted fucktoy.

“Yes sir,” Slut moaned, guiding one of the soldier’s hands around to squeeze his muscular ass cheek. “I saw the footage sir, from when you were recruited... I know you love to suck cock!”

“I do,” Joel said, licking his lips as he got lost in the moment. He glanced over at the mirror – damn... he looked super sexy in his uniform, and Slut was practically vibrating against him. “I guess maybe... yeah, we’ve got the time for a quick one.”

“Thank you,” Slut moaned, reaching down and unbuttoning his pants. He peeled them over his thick glutes and giant quads. His rubber jock felt slick to the touch...

Private Oppenheimer lowered himself down to his needs and tugged at Slut’s jockstrap. It slid off easily – of course it did, The Machine would never deprive them of pleasure...

He took a deep sniff of Slut’s bush, then dived onto the pole. Slut’s cock was already firm, but it got even harder as the soldier flicked his tongue under the cockhead. The two men moaned in unison while Joel worked his way down Slut’s shaft.

Joel felt happy. Overjoyed really, to know that Slut wasn’t a threat anymore. Why would anyone possibly want to beat The Machine? Without The Machine he would still be some straight loser trying to find dating advice on the internet.

These days, Joel didn’t need dating advice. He just needed to show up. Strip down. Stand there in nothing but dog tags, and someone would give him an order soon enough.

He could feel his thick cock pressing against his jock just thinking about it.

“Mmmm...” Slut moaned. “My balls are like... I’m gonna blow my load sir!”

Joel took the full length of Slut’s cock, making sure he aimed it right down his throat. When Slut came, Joel swallowed the whole load easily. Slut had to hold tightly to Joel’s shoulders, doing his best to avoid collapsing on the floor.

“That was really good,” Joel said, rising up to his feet. “You’re a natural slut.”

“It’s all in the name sir,” Slut giggled. “Thank you for making me a servant of The Machine sir. I’m very proud to serve.”

“Me too,” Joel said. “Now... I need to ask you a few questions before we got back to headquarters.”

“Questions sir?” Slut asked. “Of course. Anything for The Machine!”

“Were you here for the recent transformation?” Joel asked. “When The Machine recruited most of your colleagues?”

“Yes sir,” Slut said breathlessly. “It was totally hot.”

“Well... several agents were able to slip away from being recruited. Do you know what happened?”

“Yes sir,” Slut nodded. “We figured it out – if The Machine tries to use a picture older than three months, it doesn’t work. All of the agents that are still on the loose had old pictures.”

“Okay,” Joel grinned. “Do you have more recent photos of them?”

“Better!” Slut said with excitement. “The agents are watching us right now!”

He pointed at the mirror on the wall. On the other side of the wall, four agents stood in a dark room, watching through one way glass.

“Shit,” Agent Rogers said. “Okay, we’ve got the info and the Director’s a goner. Let’s get out of here. Full evacuation protocol – I don’t want there to be anything left for this machine to salvage.”

“Yes sir,” West said, jumping up and running over to a computer terminal. “Turner, get over here and help me authorize the failsafe.”

The two men typed at the computer. Each of them produced a plastic card from their wallets and tapped it against a card reader. A light above the door went red, spinning an eerie glow over the observation room.

Inside the office, Slut and Joel were tugging at the doorknob, trying to break through the electronic lock.

“Let’s go,” Rogers barked. “Rob, pull the fire alarm when you see one. I want this building empty in five minutes. The countdown’s set for ten.”

“Nine-thirty now,” Agent Turner said.

“Everybody out!”

Rogers had his hand on the door when another alarm went off. A security breach – something was terribly wrong if that alarm was going off.

“Report,” he shouted.

“Uh... it’s the power,” Agent West answered, staring at another monitor. “We just lost power on the first floor. The second... it’s spreading, and it’s coming towards us.”

The lights in the room died. Even the emergency siren lost power and they found themselves in a dark room, lit only by the dim daylight through the one-way mirror.

The electronic lock lost power, clicking into safe mode. Inside the office their lock released too, sending Joel and Slut flying back as they tugged on the door.

“Let’s go,” Joel shouted at Slut. “Stay behind me!”

The soldier pulled his cell phone from his pocket. They were in the next room. One picture and the whole agency would belong to The Machine. He shook with excitement.

Slut followed Joel down the hall. They pushed open the door to the observation room and burst inside.

“Gotcha,” Joel grinned, raising his phone and tapping on the screen.

But the phone was dead too. The glass screen stayed black. Joel pressed buttons frantically, trying to make it turn back on.

He heard the door swing open behind them. Joel spun to look. Every eye in the room jumped to the entrance. There was a beefy figure standing there, outlined by the daylight outside.

Slut lunged at the shadowy figure. Whoever it was, they weren’t an ally. He needed to protect The Machine. His only instinct was to –

“STOP!” the shadowy man ordered. He threw his hand out in front of him, like he was going to push Slut back through force of will.

And maybe he was. Slut froze, his limbs unable to move. Surprise and rage flashed over his face. He couldn’t... he needed to protect!

The man snapped his fingers and Slut felt a wave of heat blast across his body. It rolled over him the way a thunderstorm rolls over the prairies. It peeled off all the changes Joel had made... all the changes The Machine had made...

He stumbled forward, suddenly able to move again.

The Director stared down at his body, watching it shift and morph away from the attractive stud he’d become, and back to the old man he’d been at the start of the day.

“Boss?” Agent Rogers gasped.

He looked towards the glass. Even in the slight reflection, the Director could see the lines in his face and the thinning patches of his grey hair.

“Damn,” he said, breathing out heavily. “You couldn’t have left the hair?”

The man in the doorway chuckled darkly.

Joel took his chance. The soldier tried to sprint past the man and make an escape, but the Director was too fast for him. He motioned at his agents and they jumped into action, corralling the soldier and holding him fast.

“Give me the phone,” the Director said. He took the useless glass square and dropped it to the floor, crushing it under the heel of his shoe. There was a loud crack, but he smashed it again, just to be sure. “That felt good.”

“I bet it did,” West chuckled. “What should we do with this guy?”

“Put him in the lockup. Those are physical locks, they should still be working.”

“Yes sir.”

The agents frog-marched Private Oppenheimer towards the door. The beefy man stepped aside, granting them access.

The Director looked him over carefully. He was a big guy, muscular but not cut, wearing flannel and a dirty pair of jeans. Between his hiking books and his bushy beard, he looked like a mountain man.

“Thank you,” the Director said sincerely. “And now the rude part. Who the hell are you?”

“My name’s Alex,” the man sighed. “Tell me, what’s my brother been doing?”