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mmvmgo2011

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Hi all
Long time lurker. I thought I'd start a story that's been mulling around in my head for a while now.

I'm still not sure where it's ultimately headed - though I'm hoping it won't go where you think it might. I have some ideas for the direction - but nothing concrete. There could be anything - so fair warning - if you're easily offended, or grossed out, or whatever, this may not be the thread for you.

I'm planning on keeping each chapter fairly short, but hoping to post updates more often.

It's my first ever story - so be kind, or not ...

*******

CHAPTER ONE

It was over.

Well, IT wasn’t over, but the race to find a vaccine against the SARS-CoV-2 virus, the virus that caused COVID-19, was done.

The company where he worked had lost the race. There were five or six vaccine candidates approved worldwide, some mRNA based, some more traditional. His company had spent billions of dollars, and would never recoup those R&D losses releasing vaccine number six or seven, even if it was more effective. If only it was even slightly effective.

The project was shelved and, indeed, the existence of the company itself was now under threat. Word had come down from on high that afternoon; a Thursday. The staff were shocked, but not particularly surprised. Everyone expected the axe to fall at some point — many surprised it took as long as it did.

It was always a radical and ambitious plan. A plan that would pay massive dividends if it paid off - not only in immediate sales of vaccine, but in lucrative patents that would forever change vaccine development and progress medical science as we’d known it.

As the old saying goes, if it’s too good to be true…

A vaccine that reprogrammed the patient’s DNA so that the patient’s own immune system would produce the cells and antibodies necessary to fight the virus would not only prevent COVID-19 disease, it would also prevent transmission of the virus causing the disease, ending the pandemic once and for all.

But that was small fry compared to future developments. No more influenza, common cold, herpes, HIV, Hepatitis… any infection known to man — virus, bacteria, fungi — would be cured. And even the big C, cancer.

Well, it WAS ambitious.

But it was not to be. Though the theory seemed sound, putting the theory into practice proved… challenging. Hundreds of billions of dollars were spent trying to make it work and, though there was some promising early results in vitro, every single tested animal had resulted in horribly disfigured or dead animals. Not exactly ready for initial human trials, let alone approval for final manufacture and sale.

The bean counters and lawyers were still crunching the numbers and considering the options, but it seemed that so little progress had been made converting theory into practice that everything relating to the project, from samples to formulas, from notes to equipment, from methods to specialised equipment — everything — was effectively worthless.

 

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CHAPTER TWO

The next morning, the lab was subdued and the morale non existent. They had been allowed that one Friday to pack up the lab.

People were packing up equipment, destroying samples, shuffling around dejectedly as they destroyed the work representing the last two and a half years of their blood, sweat and tears – in some cases, literally.

He was tasked with destroying the latest round of samples, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not that he could do anything with them, exactly. It’s not like he could start his own lab. And do what? Succeed where dozens of PhDs and hundreds of billions of dollars could not? Doubtful.

But it was like asking him to kill a child of his (well, if he had children). After all, it was his idea. His PhD thesis that sparked the idea. His thesis did not discuss SARS-CoV-2, of course, as it was undiscovered as he was preparing his dissertation, but the theories and ideas set out in the dissertation had broad applicability, if they could be made to work.

Obviously, he was an academic; brilliant in his field, but not entrepreneurial in the slightest. He hated dealing with money and budgets and committees and schmoozing potential investors and, really, most human contact. Very few people on earth could discuss his scientific and academic passion and interest in any detail (most people’s eyes start glazing over), and he could not really relate to anything else, having spent his entire adult life focussed on nothing else.

He was 25 years old and had never had a relationship. Never had sex, never even kissed or been kissed — well, unless you count the kiss in grade 1, which did NOT count.

It’s not that he was ugly. He was not. It’s not that his body was especially unattractive, though his body was nothing special; a typical academic’s body. Well, an academic that was blessed with a fast metabolism, so he lacked the typical paunch of those living sedentary lifestyles, and height, at 6’5”.

No, there was nothing off-putting about him physically, though he would not win any physique contest, he was pleasant enough to look at, and some people got off on the slim, gangly look. They DID. He just struggled to make any sort of connection with anyone, so never even had the opportunity for even the most cursory of relationships, and he wasn’t confident enough for a one night stand.

He was not asexual. He watched porn and masturbated, fantasising about being with the people he watched – males, females, individually, in groups – it was all arousing, and the thought of putting his fantasies into practice was usually what sent him past the point of no return, and often ready to go again immediately after.

 

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CHAPTER THREE

When he was approach by PharmaVax with a proposal to put his thesis into practice and develop vaccines based on his revolutionary theories, he jumped at the chance. He would consult, providing his expertise, and get to work in a state of the art lab on cutting edge techniques, but others would worry about the annoying bits, like raising money, legalities and, you know, running a business.

To his mind, PharmaVax was perfect. Not quite a startup, but not one of the behemoth pharmaceutical giants with policies and procedures and glacially slow reactions (or so he thought at the time - it turns out the behemoths could churn out COVID-19 vaccines pretty efficiently and effectively).

It had a small existing portfolio of patented drugs - but they were exotic and rarely used, so not particularly profitable. No daily doses for life for any of PharmaVax’s products, unfortunately.

He was promised that almost the sole focus of PharmaVax would be development of vaccines based on his theories, and investors were already lined up to provide R&D funding.

He joined PharmaVax in September 2019, and they immediately got to work.

And then, well, the small issue of a global pandemic of a novel virus. A deadly virus. And the race for an effective vaccine was on in earnest.

Pressure ramped up significantly to produce results and get something available for clinical trials. Industry grapevine had some of the Pharma giants working on novel mRNA vaccines so, there was a misguided belief that they had time enough to win the race and get a COVID-19 vaccine to market. This would not only serve as proof of concept, leading to future vaccines for all known pathogens, but would bring in the money to fund R&D for those other vaccines, and plenty, plenty more.

To a large extent PharmaVax was blind sided by how quickly the mRNA vaccines reached the market, and how effective they were (at least on early variants of the virus).

If PharmaVax had known how quickly COVID-19 vaccines would be produced, it never would have entered the race and blown so much money for so little to show. If it had continued on a slow and steady incrementally improving trajectory, maybe they wouldn’t be in the situation they were in.

Hindsight is 20/20.

CHAPTER FOUR

As the door locked shut behind him, he watched the despondent staff walk away for the last time. Staff that had no jobs to return to after the weekend.

If he was anyone else, he might’ve stopped them and made some goodbye speech, a thank you, a rousing assertion that their work would rise like a phoenix from the ashes. But no, that wasn’t him. He walked off towards where his car was parked without a further word. Nobody tried to stop him, to say goodbye, or invite him to the bar around the corner for a last hurrah.

He’d never attended Friday night drinks before, so nobody expected him to attend their last session ever. Not just didn’t expect him to attend, nobody even thought to invite him. Why would they bother? Everyone knew he was an awkward loner. Brilliant, but eccentric and best left alone.

He knew the lab staff were quite friendly, and regularly attended the local bar every Friday night to eat, drink and decompress after the high pressure week they’d just had (and, though he’d never admit it, to drown some sorrows given the lack of any progress). Not that he’d ever been invited – he was unlikely to say yes, even if he were – but it was a tight-knit group and he heard stories around the water cooler. Well, the centrifuge, but you get the idea.

He put his heavy bags into the back of his car and opened the driver’s door, sliding behind the wheel.

As he reached for the engine start button, something struck him. Nostalgia, and an odd sensation he’d never really felt before.

He wanted to socialise.

What was that about better late than never?

Getting out of the car, he locked the doors and headed off towards the local where he knew the rest of his colleagues – his former colleagues, now – had already ordered first round drinks and appetisers.

 

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1 hour ago, Ro20316 said:

An inetresting first chapter.

I want more. Lets read where this goes

Thanks. I'm working on it. I hope it continues to be interesting. A fair bit of background and build up, but hopefully will be worth it.

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CHAPTER FIVE

As he approached the entrance to the bar, he was suddenly apprehensive. He didn’t belong in a place like this – what was he doing here?

The bouncer at the door, an imposing mountain of man (even if he was four inches shorter) looked him up and down and, immediately assessing him as a non-threat, dismissed him as a non-entity and returned to absent-mindedly scrolling on his phone.

If he wasn’t so nervous, he may have recognised a spike of envy within himself as he watched the bouncer step aside and grant him entry. Envy, with a generous twist of lust.

In the privacy and comfort of his own home, he would often fantasise about men like Mr Bouncer, getting hard at the thought of being respected, feared and dominating any situation. Dominating not only through sheer size and strength, but an imposition of will on others through confidence and an expectation that it’s his way or – well, there was no 'or', really, it was his way or pain.

His favourite type of porn was where a heavily muscled stud used and abused their partner or, better yet, partners; dominating them both physically and mentally. It didn’t have to be violent, exactly, but if it involved some choking, hitting, ramming of their hard, throbbing cock into whichever holes they wanted, making their partner(s) gag or scream in simultaneous pain and pleasure, all the better. About the only thing better was two or three studs dominating and plugging all holes with powerful thrusts of their steel-hard, giant cocks, flexing their glutes, twitching their cocks to maximise their orgasm and shoot into each hole with hot, studly cum, like a baker filling an eclair.

It was for this reason he often preferred gay porn. Straight porn has some “muscular” men, but more often than not, they barely had more mass on them than the woman they were fucking. It was a rare find indeed for a straight video to highlight a mass monster with a shredded X physique showing off his massive, vascular muscles while ploughing a hot chick and pumping her full or stuffing his cock down her throat.

One of his favourites highlighted a vascular stud grabbing fistfuls of hair, using his colossal forearms writhing with a roadmap of veins to force his cock further down her throat. As his forearms flex, the camera focusses in on his arms, each individual muscle bulges and flexes, the veins swelling to provide his muscles with blood to power their strength and allow him to force her head further onto his prodigious cock. As he climaxes down her throat, every muscle in his body flexes in a grotesque - in the best sense of the word - display of power and vascularity; his deep, resonant groan of ecstasy as he unleashes a torrent of cum the final, exquisite push needed for him to pump out his own load in concert with the guy on screen. As the stud pulls out from her throat, tears in her eyes, the final few spurts of his cum usually splattered over her face and his arms on the screen.

His lust and envy barely registered as it skated along the periphery of his mind, just outside his active consciousness. He thought his racing heart was caused only by the sudden onset of nervousness he was feeling. He didn’t realise part of it was caused by the lust running rampant throughout his body, dilating his pupils, causing his face to flush, and preparing his cock to stand to attention for servicing by his new muse.

Before this could all properly register in his mind, he was through the door and looking for his work colleagues. It was not a small place yet, still, they were not easy to miss.

He was wrong – something he wasn’t used to – they hadn’t just ordered, they had already finished their first two rounds of shots and were preparing to down their third.

He was about to turn around and walk out, having thought better of his foolish whim to socialise, when he was spotted by Jake, one of the youngest members of the team.

“Guys, guys – check it out,” pointing with his chin towards him, “I see it, but I don’t believe it.”

All heads in the group swivelled as one towards him, like some twisted carnival clown game. This was a bad idea, he thought, as all traces of lust faded away, replaced with sweaty-palmed nervousness at the thought of joining his former team in a social setting.

 

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I'm very intrigued by this story. I can't wait to read more chapters.

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CHAPTER SIX

“Nonsense. Come. Sit,” said Jake, making room for him to sit next to him at the crowded bench table.

Despite his protestations, he allowed himself to be dragged, literally, to the bench, sitting himself down at the end, next to Jake.

It was crowded, and he was forced to sit so that he was basically plastered to the side of Jake. Whether it was the two shots already in Jake, or something else entirely, Jake didn’t seem to mind having his calf, thigh, butt, back and shoulder pressed up against his.

As he walked over and sat at the table, a silence had fallen – a silence completely at odds with the rambunctious chatter and laughter heard around the table only moments before.

The heads of the entire group followed him as he approached the table and sat down, again mimicking some bizarre version of carnival clowns – many mouths were visibly hanging open, exactly like those creepy clowns. Some wore a puzzled expression, a few even appeared nervous!

“What’s your poison?” asked Jake.

“P-, Poison?”

“Yeah, you know, what’s your favourite shot?”

“I see. I’m… not sure. I have never had a shot.”

This resulted in some exclamations – mostly of disbelief – around the table.

“Well, then, let’s start you off with what we’re all having.” Jake waved over a waitress and ordered another shot for him.

“Tequila. You lick the salt, down the shot, then suck on the lemon. Got it?” Jake asked as he sprinkled salt onto his hand and passed him a wedge of lemon.

He was confused - why would anyone want to lick salt? Or suck on a lemon, for that matter?

“¡Salud!”

At that, a wordless cheer rose up around the table, and in a seemingly choreographed dance of simultaneity everyone around him licked the salt on their hands, lifted their shot and poured it down the back of their throat, and immediately sucked on their respective lemon wedges.

They were all watching him.  Cautiously, slowly, he tried to imitate what he’d just witnessed.

The fire pouring down his oesophagus was unexpected, and the lemon was not helping. Gasping, he looked around at his colleagues as if they were deranged. Why would they do this to themselves? Voluntarily? For FUN?

But, gradually, the fire subsided, replaced with a spreading warmth. A pleasant warmth. A warmth that seemed to infuse all parts of his body.

Before he could say anything, one of the team at the table was ordering another round of drinks. Jake suggested an aged Scotch whisky on the rocks for him, and he agreed. He knew this meant it would be served in a glass with ice cubes.

Later that evening, he had long since lost count of how many drinks he had had. All he knew in that moment, was he was enjoying this socialising thing, and he felt a pang of regret that he had not joined the group on their Friday nights earlier.

As he was musing, he was staring at Amber, sitting directly across from him. He had always thought her attractive, with her shoulder length hair, striking green eyes, and a smile that could melt butter.

And, she has a slamming body, he thought. Where had that thought come from?

His usually analytical and clinical mind was… not that any more, he thought - odd that he could not properly form the thought.

Unbidden, the thought of Amber’s lips wrapped around his half-hard cock, her tongue exploring in, around and under his foreskin and causing rapid inflation of his cock to full mast, popped into his head, while Jake was ploughing her from behind, doggy style.

A tiny part of his brain was panicking. Screaming. No, no, NO! This was not him.

As the fantasy continued in his head, on impulse, he leaned across the table and kissed her, roughly, passionately, tongue exploring and fighting hers like he’d seen in countless porn videos.

At the same time, he reached out towards Jake’s bulge, wanting to give him some pleasure while his own tumescence began rising, wanting attention.

The last thing he could remember before the darkness took him was his hand finding its target, and Amber finally kissing him back, gently but passionately; her lips so soft and luscious, Jake’s bulge surprisingly full and quick to react to his tou…

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Jake could barely believe his eyes. He was standing watching the group, a pensive, uncertain look on his face, sure, but, he was here!

Jake had long since given up trying to convince him to join the group for drinks having learned that, as brilliant as he was academically, his social skills were rather lacking. That was an understatement, he really had no social skills.

More’s the pity, he had thought to himself all that long ago. He was pretty hot. He was very tall, always a plus, and his overall lack of fat emphasised the angles of his jawline, and drawing particular attention to his piercing, cerulean eyes. Like Jake himself, his brown hair was often styled – okay, styled was not right, he never styled his hair – in a messy bed-head manner that somehow was always perfect. Despite his chiselled jawline, he had a charming, boyish quality, probably emphasised because he was absolutely clueless both as to his affect on others and as to any attempts by others to flirt or even overtly come onto him. About the only thing he needed to improve, as far as Jake was concerned, was his fitness and musculature.

If asked, Jake would describe his sexuality as fluid. He was attracted to the person, not the sex. Though he was also the first to admit that he was most attracted to stereotypically manly men and feminine women. But he was also an academic. Intelligence was an essential trait in a partner. He’d fucked many a bimbo and himbo – picking up was easy for him, he was spoiled for choice when it came to fucking – but needed someone more on his level in a relationship. He was certainly attracted to him, though he wasn’t stereotypically a “man’s man”, his intelligence was a turn on. If only he had picked up on Jake’s signals. It was probably for the best, anyway. Workplace relationships can get messy, and you should never shit where you eat.

Jake had worked hard academically, but he worked even harder to keep his body fit and strong. He hit the gym five times a week, and made sure to fit in extra cardio on the days in between. Unfortunately, Jake was a hardgainer, and he wanted nothing more than to pack on some more size. He consistently managed gains in strength and stamina – though he’d long since lost the exponential gains in lifts common to beginners, he still managed to regularly increase the reps and weight on most lifts. But try as he might, his mass gains had plateaued.

He had considered steroids, on many occasions. He knew from his studies and research that anabolic steroids were extremely effective, but they were also potentially dangerous. In particular, their effect on the heart muscle often lead to premature deaths or lifelong heart issues for those abusing steroids, and for him to truly pack on muscle, he suspected massive doses would be needed. The other issue for him was he could not afford to be arrested, it would destroy his career.

So he had long since resigned himself to accepting he would never be looked at as a bodybuilder, despite excellent definition, separation and striations in all his muscles; he just lacked sufficient size. Or so he thought. Most others looking at him saw someone in peak physical condition, with rakish good looks and a tantalisingly bulging groin, promising extra fun times in the sack. Even those that preferred their men beefier overlooked the fact that he was not a mass monster. He more than made up for it.

“This was a mistake, I—”

“Nonsense. Come. Sit,” said Jake, as he used his considerable strength to push the others down the bench and make room for him to sit.

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