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I couldn't find this anywhere on the new forum so I thought I'd upload it again. More parts are in the works (Part 2 is already done and was posted on the last site). Please let me know what you think.

 

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The following work of fiction portrays men in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are not interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format or through this medium.

All characters in this work are fictional. As such, they are immune to any and all types of infectious diseases, including the AIDS virus. You are not fictional and therefore you are not immune. Follow safer sex guidelines or risk having some brainless disease write the ending of your life story for you.

Copyright 2009 - 2014 by [email protected]

 

 

Part 2 - The Bug: Lenny

Part 3 - The Bug: Mehmet

 

Part 1

The Bug: Rory

 

On Tuesday I was supposed to have lunch with Rory but I blew him off. I felt a little guilty but the cute guy from my gym, the one I thought was Italian but who turned out to be Turkish, gave me a come hither smile as we were alternating on the pec deck machine. One thing led to another and I ended up spending lunch on my back at his place, Turkish music competing with the traffic noise from 7th Avenue that filtered through the open window.

 

I called and left a message for Rory that evening, inventing a crisis at work and asking if we could reschedule for Thursday. He sent a text after I went to sleep agreeing, so Wednesday morning I suggested we meet at Little Eddie’s downtown around 1 PM. He sent back a quick, “see u there”.

 

True to form I was late and he was waiting when I finally got to Little Eddie’s. He was sitting by the wall in the back, far away from the large windows that looked out on the street. Rory was always shy and usually sought out the quietest corner, furthest away from the crowds. In other words we’re nothing alike but somehow back in 9th grade we became friends and we’ve stuck with each other since. Do I love him? Yeah, like the little brother I never had, even though he’s four months older than me. Still, he’s annoying as fuck, a fact I remind him of every chance I get.

 

“Jesus, Ror, couldn’t you find a table in the kitchen?”

 

He looked confused for a moment, shooting a glance at the swinging doors that lead off to the back, and then words came tumbling out of his mouth.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought–, I mean, we can change, but this was free–, I don’t care if we–.”

 

“Relax, relax, I kid,” I said looking heavenward and sliding into my chair. He had wavy brown hair that fell over his ears and framed a boyish face. That he had glasses was no surprise, since no self-respecting geek went without, but he was wearing the same style that he’d worn when we met 12 years before. I had not been successful in convincing him to modernize.

 

“I just meant that most people come here to see the action and maybe take a little home with them. You’re not going to get lucky back here in Siberia.”

 

“Oh, I get it,” he said and smiled an embarrassed smile, a really killer smile, actually, that if properly utilized could have gotten him more action that afternoon than he’d seen in the last year. He may not have been the hottest thing in town but Rory had a lot going for him. What he did not have was even an iota of self-confidence.

 

It had been thus for years and though I doted on my little friend I’d pretty much given up on trying to nudge him into the slow lane (currently he was parked on the side of the road). He was as predictable as mud which is why I was surprised at the question he sprang on me.

 

“Do you think I should join a gym?”

 

“Well, uh, yeah, of course,” I stuttered, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “I mean you should have joined first thing after graduating high school but it’s never too late.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, looking off into the distance, “I was thinking the same thing.”

 

“Great, but why now? You’ve never been interested in anything physical before.”

 

His eyes slid away and I realized he was embarrassed. My spider sense began to tingle.

 

“Oh my god, something happened, didn’t it? What happened, Rory? What tawdry, disgusting little thing happened that’s convinced you to start working out?”

 

He grimaced but didn’t bother trying to deny it. “It wasn’t tawdry or disgusting, it was just…. I don’t know, just kind of odd.” He paused but saw that I was ready to jump in and went on before I could.

 

“I was on the subway yesterday, on my way home from work, and this guy got on at Collins Square. I don’t even know why I looked up, it wasn’t my stop, but I saw him come through the doors and Lenny, he was just huge. I think he was the biggest guy I’ve ever seen.”

 

Rory’s eyes were shining like he’d seen Madonna at a spring or something.

 

“He walked funny, he was so big. He was in this red t-shirt and it was so tight… There was only one seat open, right next to me, and he took it so I was kind of smashed up next to him and his big arm was all on me. I didn’t want to stare, I thought he might get mad or something, but I looked down at his thigh next to mine and it was like you could have fit three of my legs into one leg of his jeans. I couldn’t believe it….”

 

Rory trailed off, reliving this magnificent moment. I was impressed – I’d never seen him half as excited about a guy before.

 

“So what happened, dork? You’re leavin’ me hangin’ here.”

 

He cleared his throat before going on.

 

“Well, not much. I mean we just sat there until Richland Avenue where he got off.”

 

It was my turn to grimace. “Of course you didn’t say hello or nice day or what huge legs you have, I’m sure. But what about him, did he give you any sign?”

 

“No, not really. He just sat there and breathed. So did I. He had a really nice smell.”

 

I couldn’t help but sigh. Leave it to Rory to make a mountain out of a molehill. Still, if it pushed him to get up and out of his apartment with any regularity then it was to be supported.

 

“I never knew you were into big muscle or smells, but hey, whatever works for you.” He began to dispute this description of his predilections but ignored him. “I think it’s a good idea, joining the gym, that is. You might as well join City Athletics, there’s one a couple blocks from your place. You can talk to my friend Kurt there, he can probably give you a deal.”

 

“Sure, sure, City Athletics, Kurt.”

 

“I think they give you a free training session when you start plus I can show you a few things. I know my way around.”

 

I did know my way around the gym, though I wasn’t huge or anything. I was tight, though, and my abs were almost excellent. I could teach Rory a thing or two.

 

“Thanks, Lenny. I’ll go this afternoon.”

 

And that’s exactly what he did. My friend Kurt mentioned it to me when I ran into him that weekend at Gold Dust Lounge. He yelled in my ear over the dance music that my friend Rory had joined and hired a personal trainer. I was happy for the little dork though I was a bit distracted from Kurt’s news by the blonde guy a little further down the bar who kept throwing me half-smiles over the shoulder of what I assumed was a boyfriend.

 

 

 

The blonde guy was named Randy, the boyfriend was actually a cousin newly out of the closet, and the night ended with Randy and I fucking like rabbits back at my place. In a nice bit of symmetry the cousin ended up with Kurt.

 

For eighteen days we continued to fuck like rabbits. It was a lot of fun until a simple question about the life-size photo of he and his ex-boyfriend that hung over his bed caused a hysterical crying jag (on his part) that was not sexy. The last time I saw him he was leaving an embarrassingly long message on the ex’s voicemail begging to be taken back. Honestly, I hope it works out for them.

 

Back amongst the non-hysterical I started checking in with my friends, shooting messages to Rory among others. His text reply was a short, seemingly terse, ‘hitting the weights. later’. It looked like he was sticking with that gym thing, at least for a few weeks. It was another week before I found myself at loose ends in his neighborhood and decided to actually give him a call this time.

 

“Yeah?” He sounded a little groggy, like the phone woke him up.

 

“Ror, baby, I’m on your block. Invite me up.”

 

There was a delay as if he was trying to decide whether or not to offer the invite but before I could get offended he simply replied, “Yeah, OK. Come up.”

 

I took the elevator to his floor, found his apartment door was open a crack and let myself in. Just inside the door I saw a gym bag on the floor and wondered if he’d dropped it there after he last worked out or if he’d already prepared for the next one. Knowing Rory it was probably the latter.

 

The living room was empty, as was the kitchen, but he came out of the bathroom before I could look any further. His hair was messy and he was rubbing his eyes so I guess I was right about him being asleep, but that thought was immediately pushed aside. He was dressed in just a tank top and some boxer briefs so it was very easy to see that Rory was bigger.

 

I’m pretty good at math when I need to be, i.e. when it’s somehow connected to getting laid. Rory was about my height, say 5’ 10” (though I almost always claimed 6’). I’d seen him dressed down enough to know that he was one of those guys who ran to skinny rather than fat, let’s say around 145 pounds, smooth without any sort of definition. The guy in standing in front of me now wasn’t anything like that. We were still eye-to-eye but my gut told me this Rory was more like 170, maybe 175, and there was no missing the shape of the exposed biceps and shoulders or the weight of his thighs. It had been four weeks and somehow he’d put on about 25 pounds which I knew to be impossible, no matter what he was taking.

 

“What the fuck happened to you?” I asked, my voice sounding strange, even to me.

 

He frowned, yawned and then moved past me towards the kitchen.

 

“I took the day off,” he said over his shoulder, then added. “Off from work, I mean.”

 

“What do I look like, HR? I mean what happened to you. You’re bigger.”

 

He was undoing the top of a large tub of protein powder and proceeded to pour two scoops into a shaker. Standing in profile to me I could see the curve of his pecs up front and his ass in back. This definitely was not the same Rory.

 

“I’m getting there,” was all he said as he filled the shaker with tap water and then shook it violently. He chugged the mixture quickly and then rinsed the shaker before setting it back on the counter next to the protein. When he looked back at me his stare was direct and unconcerned, nothing like the shifty, side-eyed looks I usually got from Rory.

 

I took a deep breath and tried again.

 

“You look great, it’s obvious the gym is working out for you. But Ror, you must have put on 20 pounds and that’s not –.”

 

“Twenty-seven,” he said calmly, interrupting.

 

“Fine, twenty-seven then, but that’s crazy. No one gains weight like that.”

 

He shrugged, displaying his newly rounded shoulders and the sweep of his traps, and I suddenly felt a rush of desire, a first for me with Rory. I tried to follow what he was saying.

 

“It’s easy Lenny, you just have to lift and eat and sleep, and that’s what I’ve been doing, all month, nonstop.” He smiled a bit after this and I saw a glimmer of my old friend but he was hard to spot in this new body. Things seemed out of whack and I suddenly felt very uneasy.

 

He ambled over to the sofa and dropped down on it, heaving out a big sigh.

 

“I mean it’s not like I’m anywhere close to that guy on the train.”

 

For a second I had no idea what he was talking about but then I remembered the big guy who had prompted his gym initiation.

 

“Come on Ror, you said he was massive. You’re bigger but not that big.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying,” was his steady reply. “I’m not massive… yet.”

 

He stared up at where I stood standing in the middle of his living room and I realized he was slowly rubbing the bulge in his boxers. His other hand was on his chest, cupping the new mass of his right pec. It was too much for me – I made a lame excuse and left his apartment.

 

 

 

If nothing else seeing Rory’s progress made me workout harder, as if I somehow needed to stop from falling behind. I was still confused at how he could have made so much progress so quickly – even steroids don’t work that fast – but over the next few weeks I managed to convince myself that he hadn’t really gotten as big as I’d assumed. Sure, everyone puts on some quick muscle when they first start at the gym and on a skinny guy like him it was going to be particularly noticeable. But 27 pounds? No way, he was just yanking my chain.

 

I went on thinking that until one Thursday when I ran into my friend Kurt from City Athletics once again. This was at a place called Splinter (don’t ask me – dumbest club name I’ve ever heard), which was down in Dockside in some converted warehouse. The place was kind of dark so I almost walked right past him, but we caught each other’s eye at the same moment and I stopped.

 

“What’s up, Kurt?”

 

“Hey Lenny, I’m good,” he said. “You here alone?”

 

He was looking over my shoulder as he asked it and I had to laugh.

 

“Oh, you mean blondie? That didn’t work out – he had issues.”

 

“No, I thought Rory might be with you.”

 

“Rory? Here? No way, he wouldn’t be caught dead.”

 

“Yeah? He said at the gym that he was thinking about…”

 

Kurt’s voice trailed off and I could see his eyes lock on something behind me. I turned to see this big guy rolling up on us, his wide torso displayed in a very tight, barely-there tank top. The flashing disco lights caught on his big arms and shoulders, making the overbuilt muscle seem to flex in time to the music. He was my height but must have outweighed me by a good 50 pounds.

 

He was handsome too. His head was shaved close, like a Marine, and it wasn’t until he shot me a raised eyebrow and a cocky grin that I realized I knew him. It took a couple more seconds, seconds that seemed to stretch into hours, before I somehow realized it was Rory. At least the face was Rory’s, though only in a similar way. The jaw was stronger and there was no trace of the shy passivity that had served as an everyday mask for my childhood buddy. This man looked ready to conquer the world.

 

The body was beyond comprehension. He would have stood out anyway, even if I wasn’t rooted there making wordless, mental objections to the impossibility of it all. He was simply huge, like a competition bodybuilder. I’d never really been turned on by the big guys before, by the ones whose only goal was to get as big and massive as possible. I tended to go for the gym cuties that could workout and then drink all night at the club. But I couldn’t deny that Rory, this big, muscular behemoth that had replaced the skinny kid I used to know, had a magnetism I hadn’t experienced before.

 

While I was trying to process all this Kurt was not wasting any time. He brushed by me and gave Rory a big hug that went on long enough to go from a come-on to a blatant invitation. Rory stood there, one big arm around Kurt’s waist, and smiled at me. After a couple seconds he whispered something in Kurt’s ear and then pushed him away, his eyes never leaving mine. He swaggered up to me and it was all I could do to not step back as that big chest approached.

 

“Hey Lenny.” The voice, like the face, was only similar. It had changed, gotten deeper and rougher as if in compliment to his changed physique.

 

“So we’ve never fucked,” he continued, stating something obvious to us both, “but we should. You’ve always had a nice ass.”

 

It was about as Neanderthal an approach as I’d ever heard and normally I would have shot it down with something witty and slightly vicious. I didn’t do that this time. Instead I found myself nodding in agreement and following him out of the club. When we hit the street he turned and pulled me into the mass of his torso, his lips crushing mine, his tongue shooting into my mouth. His strength and size were overpowering. I found myself grabbing at his arms, his wide back, his minuscule waist, frantically exploring the contours of his muscle, oblivious to anyone watching us.

 

He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes, our faces only inches apart.

 

“I’m still getting bigger,” was all he said, and then he turned and pulled me by the arm down the street in the direction of my apartment.

 

He fucked me all night long. Literally. Every time he came, roaring like a bull in heat, I was sure it was over but scant minutes later he’d pull me to him again, his strength surprising me each time. And me, who was normally so in control whether on top or bottom, gave it all up to him, without restraint. I couldn’t get enough of his mass, the way he positioned me at his whim, the smell of his sweat and muscle. At some point I fell into darkness, came awake later to feel him behind me, his arms clamped around my chest, still sliding up deep inside. Finally I passed out for good.

 

In the morning he was gone and I could barely move. I painfully climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. The man in the mirror, his eyes wild, his lips bruised, was a stranger. I splashed some water on my face and felt a bit more real. A long, hot shower helped me gain a sliver of normalcy. Even so I called in to work, not even bothering to invent a lie, just telling my boss I’d had a hard night and couldn’t come in.

 

After the night’s marathon session I was ravenous so I went down to the corner deli and picked up a couple breakfast sandwiches and a carton of orange juice. After eating I finally felt enough like myself that I wondered what I was going to do with my free day. Lying on the bed, I idly smoothed out the sheets then pressed my face into them, reliving his smell. Suddenly I felt the urge to go workout.

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