Popular Post arbotimus Posted July 20, 2015 Popular Post Share Posted July 20, 2015 Hello, all. This is my first story. It started out as kind of a silly idea, but it kept growing (no pun intended). If I manage to write more parts, they will probably be shorter than this. Thoughts and comments are always appreciated. And with that, enjoy! Part I -- It Bit Hard I yawned, running my hands through my short, stark ginger hair. The cool mountain air filled my lungs, tinged with the scent of pine and thin from the altitude. The clouds between the trees were pasted flat against the sky, wandering across like a moving painting. I touched my toes, stretched my legs. My path was obscured by morning fog that was quickly lifting, but I knew the way. The quiet energy of the morning spurred me forward, and I began my run. The trees kept me company until the paved path wound back into our tiny Oregonian town. Rising higher, the sun strained to find its way through the morning cloud cover as people began their day, shuffling out of their houses to collect newspapers or drive to work. Beads of sweat started to form on my skin. The cool air was a welcome relief, my lungs straining after the first few miles. By the time I had reached Charlie’s house at the end of the neighborhood, I saw him standing in his doorway. It doesn’t really take much imagination to get the idea of Charlie. A typical muscular jock, tall, handsome, clean features. Short brown hair topped deep green eyes and a slightly overconfident smile. Like Adam Levine had gotten drunk one night and knocked up Marco Dapper in our local pub. His tan skin exaggerated the features of his body, his thick arms and broad shoulders jutting out through the white wife-beater that fit nicely against the rest of torso. Clearly, the unoriginal nature of his attractiveness didn’t keep me from noticing him every time we met, which was pretty often in a town as small as this one. And he knew it too, ever since high school. He lifted his hand behind his head, his arm flexing slightly. “’Sup, little man?” he said, flashing a borderline arrogant smile. I waved, averting my gaze. It was always like this. From the expression on his face, I could tell that he enjoyed how uncomfortable he made me. My discomfort had waned since my confusing teenage years, but he still relished in my awkward furtive glances. A mixture of slight distain and familiar arousal ultimately ended as a small jolt of excitement down below before I continued on. I was drenched in sweat by the time I finally made it back home. Feeling good about my run, I stripped off my clothes and took a minute to evaluate myself in the mirror. I was handsome, if nothing else. My eyes were that startling sort of blue that you would expect with my ginger complexion. I liked to think they were kind, unassuming. Piercing, is what the last guy I was with had said. Otherwise, I had a strong jawline accompanied by smooth, relatively tan skin peppered with light freckles. After I turned on the shower, I made the same pose Charlie made to me earlier and giggled at my reflection. I was lithe, definitely, some definition here and there but nothing to write home about. Overall, I was more or less happy with my body as it was. Finding a guy on my occasional trips to the city had never been too much effort, and I had had my share of adventures enough to maintain my self-confidence. Post-shower, I threw on a T-shirt and shorts and headed to work. I was a hairdresser at the only salon we had. Yes, I was a gay hairdresser. Prior to that no one had ventured to guess that I liked men, but now I had put up with more than a few raised eyebrows. My excuse, on the rare occasion that I needed it, was that jobs were scarce around these parts, and my mom had taught me how to cut hair. Neither of these were false, and most people let it go easy enough. The job was temporary, anyhow. I was headed back to university after several years off. Aspiring mechanical engineer, had life not gotten in the way. My run had taken less time than I thought, and I set out on the long way through the woods. The best part about our rural town is that there is a trail to almost anywhere you want to go. It’s practically a postcard there. Little coffee shops and gas stations rise up almost naturally out of the woods along the one major road. Behind the lay what is practically wilderness: verdant, alpine, springs gushing forth from mysterious locations. I was keen on escaping into it as much as possible. The sun was starting to pierce the clouds and peer through the canopy. It was summer, after all, even in Oregon. Suddenly, there was an unfamiliar pain in my leg. It reminded me of a bug bite, but the feeling was immediate and intense, as though I had been stabbed by a needle. I looked down, but I couldn’t find any mark or bruise except for a small puncture that was already clotting up. The pain subsided as soon as it had started. I began to search for the culprit, but I was interrupted by a jarring shrieking sound, as if someone were rubbing two pieces of rusty metal together. My head turned directly to the source. And there it was, sitting innocently between the pine needles. Although, what it was took a second to comprehend. An insect, most likely, its body resembled something akin to a mosquito crossed with a beetle (I am a mechanical engineer, not an entomologist). It shone with a dark metallic sheen, as if it were actually made of metal. Sinister, black compound eyes stared back at me above a menacing set of mouthparts, all sharp. It was currently rubbing its needle-like proboscis as it sang its metallurgic cacophony by rubbing its spindly hind legs together. The moment I moved closer to take a look, it flew away with a buzz akin to a tiny chainsaw, its tiny wings beating furiously to support its strange body. I stood there for a second, perplexed. I wouldn’t be taking this path again tomorrow. Despite this odd interlude, I still managed to make it on time. Work was dreary. I was restless the entire day, doing ten different things at once. The customers could tell, too. Shop talk was at a minimum, replaced with uncomfortable looks and quick and simple cuts. I just wanted to get the job done and go for a run, and I was grateful by the time my shift had ended. Contemplating my uneasiness on the way home, I stopped in front of the gym. Something told me that I should go inside. I entered warily. This was not a regular activity for me. Normally by then I would have already been running, but my newfound jitters seemed to require a different kind of relief. The inside was spacious, if not a little run down. Carpet floors, old wooden paneling, decorations from the previous century that had faded away. All the facilities in our town were a little bit tainted with Americana like this. Without a friend to mooch off of, I was forced to sign up for a gym membership. My body urged me forward impatiently, and so I ignored the moderate fee and the overbearingly cheerful attitude of the guy handling the paperwork. Finally, I was granted access. Being almost entirely unfamiliar with what I was doing, I lifted a 15 pound dumbbell off the rack. The next time I looked up at the clock, three hours had passed. Three hours. My body was, as far as I was concerned, dead. Once I had started, I wasn’t able stop until my body wouldn’t move anymore. The entire experience was kind of hazy in my memory. I took a minute just to lay on the floor and breathe, hoping that death was not actually imminent. My sanity returned to me slowly, but I was confused nonetheless. I had only been in a gym three or four times in my life, and none were exactly stellar performances. Three hours of intense weightlifting seemed excessive, if not impossible. Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time (which my watch later informed me was only five minutes), I was able to lift my body and head outside. The person who had signed me up enthusiastically saluted me on the way out. His disposition was frustrating when I considered the condition I was in. I grunted something at him and left without looking in his direction. My entire body was wracked with pain, and I was ravenously hungry. My sole concern was moving my heavy body forward, one step at a time, back to my apartment. By the time I made it, I couldn’t decide whether to collapse from exhaustion or feed my starving stomach. Passing the refrigerator and pantry, I opted for the latter. It was heaven, every item that touched my lips and passed down my throat. I ate until I couldn’t anymore, preferentially grabbing any protein-heavy item I could find. After I felt I could barely move, I somehow forged a path to my bed and collapsed. Immediately I found myself in a sleep without dreams. The next morning I awoke anticipating the pain, but I found none. I felt limber, refreshed. My body was not sore at all. Maybe I hadn’t worked out as hard as I had thought? I didn’t ponder it for very long, however, as my morning wood stole my attention. My whole body felt aroused, and as my hand touched my dick I thought I was going to cum right there all over my sheets. Somehow I resisted, threw off my covers, and pulled out the lube that I kept in my nightstand drawer for such emergencies. It throbbed as I applied each spurt. I moved slowly, cautiously up and down my dick, careful not to squeeze too hard or move to fast to fend off the impending ejaculation. Every time I flexed a muscle, the feelings intensified. I made a point to flex every part of my body that I could think of, while still masturbating with the same care and attention to avoid a premature orgasm. Each stroke felt like minutes of pleasure, my whole body wracked with orgasmic sensations. My clock, however, disagreed. I came after only a minute, feeling somewhat disappointed between spasms that it hadn’t lasted longer. I used my towel (also conveniently located in my night stand) to wipe the voluminous jizz off my stomach, feeling how hard it was from yesterday. I got up and headed to the bathroom. I was still sweaty from last night. Deciding that I wasn’t going to run today, I slipped off my shirt after I started the shower. I paused. Despite the fact that I had just came, my dick hardened a little bit at my own image in the mirror. I wasn’t that much bigger than before, but the difference was notable. Grinning, I made a muscle. Not formidable, not large, but that was definitely a bicep. My pecs rose a little bit more off my chest, my abs were just a little more defined. I turned my body to find a back that was just a tad more cut, a butt just a little more firm. Oddly, my legs had not changed all that much, but I could feel that they were much stronger. I felt lighter, more powerful. Resisting the urge to touch my dick at my own visage, I hopped in the shower and headed to work, this time making sure to take the normal route. On the way over, I remembered the bug bite from yesterday and decided there wasn’t really any other explanation. Not very many exciting events tended to happen around there, so the odd ones stand out. Still, that was not much of an explanation. The parallels to Peter Parker immediately flashed into my head. Was I just going to get bigger? Or would I have all the powers of a mosquito-beetle…thing? I wasn’t really excited to become Terminator Gregor Samsa. But then I felt my body tight against my shirt, my shoulders extending out to a proud posture, my legs strong, my abs tight. It was hard to worry, or to think about how or why this was happening. It was even harder not to get an erection. All day I received compliments about how I looked. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it. “Did you get taller?” one of them said, and I just flashed them a smile and continued working. They would probably figure it out soon enough, if it continued like this. Luckily, I was not going to be here for very much longer. The sun continued to pass overhead. The day was long, but not nearly unbearable. I felt good, light. But the urge to go to the gym was there too, pushing me forward. I was almost giddy with anticipation as we flipped the sign to “Closed”. I rushed straight to the gym. On the way I passed Delilah, that lovely lady. She had a way of smiling that made you feel like you were at home. As far as I knew, she was the only black person in our entire town. On loan, so to speak, from a big university on the East Coast I couldn’t quite remember, Delilah was helping out at our local museum during the summer. The museum was our town’s only tourist attraction, specializing in American Folklore and Mythology of the area and of Oregon in general. Her title was technically “Folklorist”, but as she told it she was basically an anthropologist with a background in mythology. And I, having done a hairdressing stint in my college town days, was the only one who knew how to do her hair. Needless to say, we bonded. “Hi Delilah,” I said, waving curtly. “Evening, Kenny,” she said, smiling warmly. She didn’t have to say much else. Most of our interactions were unspoken. Delilah was the only person in our town that I had come out to, but she seemed to have known before I told her. We would talk about boys and our adventures in the city in private, but in public we had a kind of secret code. We walked on past each other, both apparently in a hurry to get somewhere. I finally reached the gym, feeling good from a day of compliments but tense from the anticipation. I entered and instantly I felt an unconscious reaction to the metal. It needed to be in the air, and I was just the guy to do it. I know I started with bicep curls, but after that things got a little hazy despite all my mental preparation. I remember that between the pain was an odd sort of euphoria, a mixture of physical pleasure and a sense of pride and accomplishment at what I had just achieved. Whenever I lifted something that I thought my body would never be able to, the feeling of power and strength was intense, almost erotic. It pushed me to try heavier weights, more reps. I was improving as I was lifting. After two and a half hours of pushing myself, I knew that I was done. Despite the shorter time, I had worked much harder than yesterday. When I finally fell to the floor, I stayed there for a good ten minutes before I could walk out of the gym. Almost as soon as I left the building (at this point completely ignoring the peppy gatekeeper), the hunger started again. In all of my rushing around, I had completely forgotten to restock my empty apartment. I detoured to our only fast food restaurant (luckily open at the late hour of 8 p.m.), and ordered enough chicken for five people. “I am having a get-together,” I told the cashier, looking down as I said it. She didn’t really seem to care. She called my order, and I paid my hefty sum for my five person meal. I barely managed to get outside before I wolfed it all down. It was probably the best fried chicken between two slices of bread I had ever tasted. Nothing was safe from my bottomless stomach. I ate thoughtlessly, unquenchably until it was gone. Small pangs of hunger still plagued me, but I threw away the paper remains of my meal and headed home. As I looked up, the stars were pale against the summer sky. The best thing about living in a small town is the calm darkness of the night. Looking up, the entire universe opens up to you, and anything seems possible. The dark shapes of trees surrounding familiar buildings and places give the perfect balance of comfort and wilderness. You get a sense of belonging to something bigger than yourself. But all these thoughts were interrupted by the sensations that were happening in my own body. I could feel myself growing very slowly. I first noticed in my legs, my shorts tightening around my thighs. Every step was lighter than the last, and as I ran my hands down my quads I could feel them pulsing and enlarging. My upper body grew simultaneously, and I wished I had worn a tighter shirt so I could feel it expanding in the same way. My hands instinctively reached for my biceps, harder and larger every second. I could feel my chest lifting up my shirt, and my abs growing tighter and thicker at the same time. My stomach emptied as my muscles continued to throb and expand. My dick also responded with a pump of its own. I knew that I couldn’t touch it without orgasming, I was already almost there. As my shorts continued to grow tighter from my ass expanding, it became more and more difficult to ignore the fabric pulling tighter against my already throbbing cock. Luckily, by the time I had finished most of my growth I was already home, having avoided cumming in my shorts. By now, most of my fatigue had lifted. I headed up the stairs to my apartment, noticing how easy it was to push myself up despite my new size. Once inside, I checked the refrigerator and pantry and ate whatever I had left, which turned out to be Jello and stale tortilla chips. They tasted wonderful, and I wolfed them down eagerly. My body was still pulsing and growing, but very slowly. I kept touching myself all over, constantly surprised by the new shapes and how hard my body was. I headed to the bathroom, anticipating the changes in the mirror. I was not disappointed. Full, rounded biceps met with thick forearms as I made a double bicep pose, my abs and pecs taut as they stretched out from the position. Even if my arms were only about 15 inches around, they were full and solid, powerful looking. After I let my arms fall, I took a second just to admire my new body. I found that I could now make my pecs bounce, and I relished in it. First both, then the left one, then the right one, then to some imaginary rhythm. I tightened my abs and saw the new crevices between them, and as my hands ran across them I could feel each one distinctly. Unlike yesterday, my legs had also swollen in size, and I flexed my calves to find a heavy ridge. I also got a glance at my back, my rounded shoulders meeting nicely muscled traps above a widened set of lats. If I continued like this, soon I would be bigger than Charlie. I barely even touched my dick before it exploded all over the mirror, the silky feel of my hands rubbing against my hard body. I continued to flex and admire my new form through the cum-drenched mirror, wondering how big I would become. Part II 2 50 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
msclegrower Posted July 21, 2015 Share Posted July 21, 2015 Wow. Great writing. Can't wait to see where this goes and if he gets cockier than Charlie... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
musclesmoker Posted July 22, 2015 Share Posted July 22, 2015 Awesome! Please keep it growing. Maybe give him a buddy to grow too? Get him bit by the same bug. I hope their equipment grows in line with their muscle too. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mario2007 Posted July 22, 2015 Share Posted July 22, 2015 Excellent! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MuscleGrowthBeast Posted July 26, 2015 Share Posted July 26, 2015 Fantastic. Keep it coming man Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bazda1608 Posted July 29, 2015 Share Posted July 29, 2015 Great story cant wait for the next part, also i wonder if the iron bug is part of the mythologu of the place and if so, if Delilah knows something about it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Xyggurat Posted July 29, 2015 Share Posted July 29, 2015 This is a really solid story and I hope to see more of it! -X- 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sexiscriptor Posted August 14, 2015 Share Posted August 14, 2015 elegant writing, hot images, good stuff i definitely blasted right at the end with our protagonist, hope to see this continue! thanks for sharing ~Ille Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arpeejay Posted April 12, 2016 Share Posted April 12, 2016 Part 2 is HERE, by the way: Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
arbotimus Posted April 12, 2016 Author Share Posted April 12, 2016 Thanks for reminding me. Put the link at the bottom. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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