growth The Bug: Lenny

[NYCBlackMuscle]

Part 2 of this story. 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 2010 - 2014 by [email protected]

 

 

Part 1 - The Bug: Rory

Part 3 - The Bug: Mehmet

 

 

Part 2

The Bug: Lenny

 

My father always expected me to take over his store someday. He started working there when he was only seven, stocking shelves and carrying vegetables up from the basement while my grandfather manned the front counter, selling milk, eggs and cigarettes while talking to the men from the block about baseball and politics. Outside the store, in the Turkish and Lebanese neighborhood where we lived, the old women in black shawls would walk arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, telling stories about their neighbors and casting critical eyes on the children playing in the street.

My family had a store back in Turkey before my great-grandfather came to America. I never learned why he left there but I think it was because he married my great-grandmother, Nasia, who was Greek. I barely remember her, she died when I was six, but she scared me. In my memories she’s always staring at me with dark eyes sunk in a wrinkled face as if she knows I’ve done something wrong.

Sometime early on I vowed to escape, across the river and into the city that I could see in the distance, tall towers climbing into the sky. I wanted to leave the store, the neighborhood and the insular group of Turkish families that traded sons and daughters in an Old-World game of marriage and alliance. I wasn’t ready to admit what I really wanted but I knew I couldn’t marry any of those girls, that I had to leave before my life was anchored in the same tenements that had already captured my father and brothers, uncles and cousins.

When I was fourteen I rode the subway into the city with my mother, my aunt and two cousins to visit my Uncle Berker who was in the hospital for an operation. The city was so busy with so many people, all going somewhere important. We ate lunch at a corner diner where my mother and aunt talked in hushed tones about my uncle while my cousins and I kicked at each other under the table.

I got bored with the foot game after a while so I looked around and saw a man clearing tables, stacking dishes in a plastic tub to be taken to the kitchen. He might have been 25 or 30, dark like me but certainly not Turkish. When he lifted the tub his arms flexed, filling the rolled up sleeves of his t-shirt, a tattooed eagle on his facing arm undulating with the motion of the muscle underneath. I suddenly felt a kick to my stomach as if one of my cousins had managed a well-placed blow with their sneaker. For the rest of lunch I watched him, whenever he was out front, hoping to see him flex his arms again.

I was so distracted I didn’t notice my family getting up from the table and my mother had to grab me by the head to get my attention.

“Mehmet, what’s wrong with you?” I couldn’t say, wouldn’t say, knew that she’d never understand. That night in bed, my younger brother asleep in the bunk above me, I lay thinking about that arm and its eagle, dreaming what it would feel like to be strong like that.

On my eighteenth birthday, a few weeks after I graduated high school, I told my father I had been accepted to City University. He was silent for a moment, pursing his lips and looking away from me in a recognizable sign that he was unhappy. I knew he was trying to decide how this would affect the store and the ever increasing hours he had me chained there. But I also knew that he couldn’t disagree with me going to college, that education was as important as milk and cigarettes, maybe more so. He finally, painfully, agreed that I could work evenings and weekends, was almost angry when I said I’d need at least a couple nights off to do homework.

A month later I found a cheap apartment share in the city and a job at a restaurant. By Christmas I was only going home every other weekend to see my younger brother Omer glaring from the door of the family store as I walked by, father’s angry replacement for me.

At the restaurant where I bussed tables, stacking dishes in a tub before taking them to the back to be cleaned, there was a bartender named Rolo. He was couple years older than me, originally from Spain but so long ago he sounded and acted more American than I did. He joked with me as we worked, throwing ice at me as I passed by or stealing food from my plate as I ate in the break room. They made him wear all black, a black buttoned down shirt and black slacks, but you could still tell he was in great shape. His shoulders seemed overly broad, his waist almost too small, and I couldn’t help noticing his ass molding the rear of his pants. I’d listen to the female waiters whispering about him when he left the room, my heart beat pounding in my ears as I thought the things they said aloud.

Once Rolo caught me as I was leaving work on a warm August night when the city seemed busier at 2 AM then it had all day long. He walked with me down the sidewalk, cracking jokes about the people at the restaurant, making me laugh even though my stomach was queasy and my palms sweaty. At the corner of Empire Avenue and 28th Street he motioned with his head in mid-sentence and I found myself walking to his apartment, a 3rd floor walkup in a shabby building. I sat silently on his futon, afraid my voice would quaver and broadcast my fear if I spoke. He must have known because he kept up an easy patter as he unbuttoned and shrugged off his shirt, displaying a tight white tank top seemingly sprayed onto his wide, hairless torso.

When he put his hand on my knee I felt my heart stop but it must have kept beating because moments later our arms were locked around each other and we were kissing. He felt amazing, all smooth and muscle under velvet skin. We broke the kiss and then his lips were on my neck and ears, making me gasp at the touch. I licked his traps and on down to his swelling biceps, which flexed and writhed as we grappled.

I was afraid he’d be disappointed – I was slim and tight but not nearly as muscular as him – but his passion showed that he was as turned on as me. When he rolled over onto his stomach and raised his perfect ass it seemed so natural for me to take him, like it was what I’d been missing all my life. He couldn’t understand the words I moaned in his ear, curses and praise in my father’s tongue, but he could feel my excitement as I drove into him with the strength of years of pent-up lust. I felt his tight hole spasm as he came, triggering my own climax in turn


Rolo and I became lovers. Not that night but five years later, long after we’d both left the restaurant. I ran into him at a house party shortly after he got back from Los Angeles where he had moved for couple years in hopes of becoming an actor. We fucked at my place in Kensington, the apartment I’d moved into after graduating college and getting my first real job. He kept going on about how much bigger I was and I just smiled down at him, his legs wrapped around my waist and my hands pinning his wrists to the bed above his head. I was bigger and more muscular but it was all because of him, because of what I loved so much that night he first took his shirt off.

We were only together eight months but we parted friends when he hopped a plane to Miami and the next chapter in his life. I settled down into my routine of work and the gym, and the occasional visits back home to the family where I endured a parade of young Turkish women who needed a husband just as it was assumed I needed a wife. After each visit I’d run for the subway and escape back to civilization for a frenzied workout and a casual fling with some tight young stud.

That’s how I met Lenny, a guy from the gym that I sometimes saw out at night or at the piers on summer afternoons. He was sexy enough, blondish brown hair and a beautiful ass, but with a bitchy streak that thankfully I could ignore when we were fucking. I’d seen him looking at the gym a couple times and smiled in response, not in any hurry since he seemed like just one of the many interchangeable guys you meet in the gay ghetto. One day things came together and we started talking during a late morning chest workout when I was supposed to be working from home, my cell phone being my only real connection to the office that day. I took him to my place and fucked him twice before lunch was over.

We exchanged numbers and I forgot about him. Not long after my older brother Selim announced to the family he was leaving his wife and daughters for a Puerto Rican woman from the auto supply company where he worked. You’d have thought the world was coming to an end. I did my best to stay out of the whole thing though my mother managed to guilt me into one meeting with him. I didn’t attempt to change his mind – given my family secret it seemed hypocritical to even try. I met his new inamorata that Sunday after Selim and I finished lunch at a tapas place near Collins Square. She seemed very nice, much nicer than the woman my father had previously convinced him to marry.

I said goodbye and watched them disappear into the midday crowd, Selim’s arm tight around her waist. I was sorry for my nieces, I knew this wouldn’t be easy on them, but I hoped for the best for my brother. I also decided the best antidote to family stress was the gym.

I headed home, cutting over towards 7th Avenue on 16th Street. Halfway down the block my family ruminations were kicked to the curb when I saw this big guy walking towards me. He was dressed in standard Kensington fashion – sunglasses, sleeveless t-shirt, knee length shorts and sandals – but normality stopped there. He was really big, huge in fact. Massive torso, tiny waist and back out to gigantic legs that seemed to struggle to get around each other as he walked. There were plenty of gym boys in this part of town, including me, but this guy looked like a professional bodybuilder and was easily the biggest person I’d ever seen in real life.

I realized my mouth was open and I snapped it shut as we approached each other, him taking up a good portion of the sidewalk. He slowed as we neared and a cocky smile appeared on his face, taking me by surprise.

“Hey man, how ya been?” He seemed to be speaking to me but I had no idea why. I looked around but as was often the case the street was nearly empty despite the crowds that thronged the avenues this block ran between.

“Uh, I - I’m good,” I stuttered, positive that he had mistaken me for someone else.

He reached up to his glasses and my eyes latched onto his forearm, probably as big around as my bicep, the muscle fibers clear and distinct under the skin. When his eyes appeared I did a double-take; he did look familiar, sort of, though I couldn’t imagine why. There was no way I could ever have forgotten that body.

“So here we are and it’s lunchtime again,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah it is. I just ate with my brother…” Inwardly I kicked myself for sounding so inane. Who the hell was this big fucker?

He moved towards me and I couldn’t help stepping back a half-step, intimidated as that enormous chest neared mine.

“I liked your music, I wanna hear it again,” he said in a low voice and somehow that did it.

“Lenny,” I breathed as I felt one of his big hands slide around my waist.

“Who’d ya think?” he asked as he leaned in and kissed me there on 16th Street. I think I resisted, or tried, but it was like pushing against a building. He only tightened his grip in response.

His tongue pushed into my mouth like he owned it, as forceful a kiss as I’d ever received. When he finally pulled back, his eyes staring deep into mine, I could see the outlines of the guy I had picked up at the gym and fucked those few months ago but that was all that was similar. Everything else had changed, impossibly changed. I suddenly felt the urge to run.

As if sensing my half-formed intention he turned me back the way I was headed, walked me to 7th and then down the avenue towards my apartment. It was weird feeling such a huge presence at my shoulder, watching people step aside as we approach, some in surprise, some with burgeoning lust on their faces. I guess I’m a good-looking enough guy that I’m used to some attention when I walk through my part of the city, but this was something altogether different. People were as awestruck with him as I was, some stopping to stare, a few even taking pictures with their phones. Lenny ignored them all, walking along as if he owned the sidewalk. No one seemed to be in the mood to contest his ownership.

A very quiet and logical corner of my brain was running down a list of reasons why this couldn’t be happening. The first item on the list was that Lenny was smaller than me – I knew this for a fact having been naked with him only eight or nine weeks earlier. Therefore, the behemoth next to me could not be Lenny. I found some momentary comfort in this as if it were evidence my brain was still functioning but then Lenny’s over-sized arm bumped into and pushed aside my own and the point was lost.

A bit further down the list was the fact that I was a strict top – I’d only ever considered switching positions once after a drunken New Year’s party. My desire to experiment ended at the moment of first contact when I suddenly decided there were some things I didn’t need to experience. Now I found myself nearing home with a man who was very obviously in charge, despite the roles we’d played last time we met.

I avoided the eyes of my doorman as Lenny walked me across the lobby of my building to the elevator. We shared the ride up with an older woman who lived somewhere on a floor above me. I imagined her disapproval of the big man’s hand cradling my ass as we got off on my floor. I fumbled with the key to my door, Lenny’s torso pressed into the back of mine, his hands gripping my hips. When the door finally opened he thrust me into the apartment, kicking it shut behind us, and then whipped me around, pressing his lips into mine once again.

To say that he was overpowering was an understatement – his arms were like a vice around my torso while his mouth and tongue stole the breath from my lungs. I could barely think as he hefted me, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, and thudded through my open bedroom door. It was only when he tossed me on the bed that I had a moment to think, to try and clear the thought and feel and smell of him from my brain. It was only a short moment because standing next to the bed he gripped the bottom of his shirt and tore it over his head. As his impossibly wide torso came into view my mouth fell open once again and the logical part of my brain gave up the fight, giving into the lust that overcame me.

I didn’t resist as he pulled off my shoes and then opened my pants before pulling them off as well. Seeing all that muscle bunching and moving under the skin, the roll of his chest and shoulders as moved me around like a toy, made me so hot I started grabbing at him, trying to pull him onto me. He kicked off his sandals and managed to push his shorts down over his thick thighs and straining erection, and then he climbed up on to the bed and over me, his arms like thick columns on either side of my head.

“Whadya want?” he asked in a husky voice, his eyes burning into mine.

“You,” I gasped, completely lost in his strength. “I want you.”

Then his arms collapsed and he was on me, his over-sized muscle covering me completely as his hips forced my legs wide apart. Whatever my previous trepidation or concern it was gone now, completely subsumed in my need for him and his body.


I didn’t know what time it was but it was twilight outside my apartment windows. There was a bedside clock on the other side of Lenny but it was obscured by the height of his slowly rising and falling torso.

He lay on his stomach, his far arm lying on the bed above his head, his face turned towards me so I could see one of his now closed eyes. It was so strange, I could still see the shade of the gym twink I’d met before, like the imprint of a child in the features of the man he would later become.

I’d never been a muscle whore, never been attracted to the big steroid boys who grunted and groaned their way around the gym. Lenny, the old Lenny, was my type, in part because I always wanted to be the one on top, calling the shots, directing the action. Now, coming down from this recent sexual high, my mind was just starting to try to deal with finding myself on the opposite side of things.

Only half thinking I ran a finger from his shoulder down the curve of his tricep, marveling at his human landscape.

“Like what you see?” he asked, surprising me.

“You know I do,” I replied in a whisper.

He opened the one eye, looking at me for a few seconds before pushing himself up on his immense arms and then swinging his legs onto the floor.

“Good,” he continued as he stood and headed for my bathroom, “cuz this is gonna be you in a little while.”

I stared after him, a puzzled look spreading across my face, trying to figure out what he meant.

[arpeejay]

Thanks! I needed that!

 

Truly, a most excellent follow-up, although it took me a minute to figure out that Lenny wasn't Rory. I look forward to seeing what happens to Mehmet!

 

Similar (yay!) premise to one of my all-time favorites, Virus by Josef Howard:

 

http://www.agrowingconcern.com/virus.html

[Bigdave]

Really well written and paced! I want to know what happens next too. I'll be looking out for the next instalment. Thanks!

[debate1]

Please keep this series going. Fat to massive

[NYCBlackMuscle]

Thanks! I needed that!

 

Truly, a most excellent follow-up, although it took me a minute to figure out that Lenny wasn't Rory. I look forward to seeing what happens to Mehmet!

 

Similar (yay!) premise to one of my all-time favorites, Virus by Josef Howard:

 

http://www.agrowingconcern.com/virus.html

 

I remember that story - it's a really good one.