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Subject: The Love Hacker, Chapter 2 (Gay Adult/Youth) THE LOVE HACKER By Wes Leigh This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author’s consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation by visiting fty/. Chapter Two: Operation Love Hack Begins “It will never work,” Callum said, sitting next to me as he studied the images on my computer. “I have a plan,” I responded, scanning down the pictures on the gay dating website. “Great. One of Kenji Nakamura’s brilliant schemes.” “Don’t be sardonic.” “Sardonic? I’m not being sardonic. Perhaps a bit sarcastic, possibly ironic, but definitely not sardonic.” I bumped my shoulder against Callum’s. “Please spare me the benefit of your tremendous vocabulary. You can talk like that when you grow pubic hair and your voice stops breaking.” Callum glared at me, stood up, and pulled his shorts down a few inches, showing me the patch of dark red hair curled just above his junk. He stuck out his tongue and wiggled his hips. “This, for your information, IS pubic hair. Furthermore, my voice stopped breaking a year ago.” I laughed. “Pull your waistband down a little lower.” “You wish, you perv!” He pulled his pants back up and sat down. “I still say it will never work.” “It will work. You’ll see.” “If this gets you a boyfriend, I want to try it next. I want a college girlfriend.” “Why, Callum? So she can run her fingers through your curly red pubes?” Callum laughed and pushed against me. “That’s right. And then she can grab my thick, beefy penis and stroke it until I swell up to my full nine … no, my full twelve inches of hefty manhood.” I rolled my eyes and looked over at Callum. “Seriously, bro? Twelve inches, is it now?” He shrugged. “Four and seven eighths, but a guy can dream.” I snickered. “You’re measuring it to the eighth of an inch now?” Callum nodded. “Don’t give me any crap, Kenji. I happen to know you measure yours to the tenth of an inch.” “I do not!” I protested. Callum just shook his head at me. “Who was it that pulled me into the bathroom at school last week to tell me he was up to 5.2 inches in length and 4.8 inches in girth?” I blushed and pointed at the screen, attempting to change the subject. “This guy looks interesting,” I said. The guy I was pointing at was 20 years old. A college junior. Thick, auburn hair. Gorgeous dark blue eyes, so dark they looked almost black. According to his vital statistics, he was seven inches long, circumcised, and versatile. “It’s amazing how much information they divulge on these websites,” I said. “Yeah,” Callum agreed, “although, I don’t know why anyone would care that he’s ambidextrous.” “Where do you see that?” Callum pointed at the screen. “Right there. It says he’s versatile. I can only assume that means he’s ambidextrous.” I giggled. “Versatile means he’s comfortable being a bottom or a top.” Callum stared at me, not understanding. “In bed,” I added. He frowned and shook his head in confusion. “During anal sex,” I explained. His eyes opened wide. He grimaced. “Ugghhh. T.M.I., Kenji.” I shrugged. “It’s a gay dating site. That information might be useful to know. You can’t have two tops dating.” I looked at Callum. He still seemed clueless. “Two guys who both prefer penetrating their partner during anal sex. It wouldn’t work. Who would be the bottom if they both want to be the top? Now do you get it?” “Ohhhhh,” Callum replied. “EWWWW! Gay sex is so much more complicated.” “Not really,” I said with a smile. “Females can be quite kinky too. Some of them like being a top.” Callum snorted. “That is not feasible, Kenji. They are not equipped with the proper gear.” He laughed and gripped his groin. “They make strap-on penises, Callum.” I could see Callum thinking about it. He wrinkled up his nose and shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.” “I could break you in first,” I said, nodding at my groin. I love teasing Callum because his face turns bright red when he blushes. He turned and punched my shoulder. “Cut it out, Kenji. I’ve told you a million times. I’m not gay.” I giggled. “But he is,” I replied, pointing at the guy on the screen. Jason Truman. College junior. My future boyfriend, though he didn’t know it yet. “Hey!” Callum exclaimed, leaning in to read. “He plays third base for the Hornets.” I nodded. A college baseball player. I’d let him take me to third base and right around to home plate. He was seriously cute. Time to get busy. *** “This is my fake Facebook account.” I showed Callum what I had created the night before. It was for a guy named Ken Nakamura, an 18-year-old college freshman, majoring in Physics at Sacramento State. I included several pictures of an older Asian guy. He looked somewhat like me, as I would imagine myself looking in a few years. He was hanging out with friends, doing college-type extracurricular activities, like playing beer pong and tossing a frisbee. According to his Facebook profile, Ken Nakamura was doing great in school with a 3.9 GPA. I didn’t want him to be a super-nerd, like me, but there was no way I was going to let future-me have less than a 3.8 GPA. He was also unattached because he was `looking for a serious relationship with someone interested in finding more from life than random flings.’ I had pretty much copied a statement I’d seen on Jason Truman’s dating profile. Jason said he was looking for a serious relationship, not a one-night stand. I wanted Ken Nakamura to have the same goal, but with a few wording changes. With so much in common, a love connection was inevitable. Or, so bahçelievler escort I hoped. “You realize Facebook will ban you for life if they find out you created a fake account,” Callum said. “Hah! I bet half these accounts are fake. And the other half contain photo-shopped pictures and falsified profiles. No one is honest these days.” “How do you know Jason’s profile isn’t full of lies?” “He would never do that,” I replied. Callum snorted. “I thought you said no one is honest these days.” “Jason is. He’s the only honest one. I can tell when I look at his eyes.” “So you’re going to lie, fake a profile, and show stolen pictures … to catch an honest guy as your boyfriend?” “Of course, I am. I’m only fourteen. How else would I get a guy his age to fall in love with me?” “You’re impossible,” Callum muttered. “Why do you need a fake Facebook account, anyway?” “Because he’ll expect me to have one. Everyone does, right? When I create my account on the gay dating site, the first thing he’ll want to do is check me out on Facebook. That’s what I would do.” Callum groaned. “This seems like an enormous amount of effort with an extremely low chance of success. I still don’t think it will work.” “It will work. Now be quiet and help me create my dating profile.” I opened the gay dating site and started a new account. Ken Nakamura. 5’10” and 180 pounds. 18 years old. College freshman, attending Sacramento State, majoring in Physics. Six inches long (I vetoed Callum’s suggestion of ten inches, going with the average penis length of adult males). Versatile (a perfect match for Jason). Seeking a friend who will value relationships over temporary pleasures. I attached a photo of future-me and submitted it to the website. A message popped up, demanding $9.99 plus tax for the privilege of posting pictures to the website. All major credit cards accepted. Callum began laughing. “Now what are you going to do, Kenji?” I went back to my profile and deleted the picture. In the space below, I added a link to my fake Facebook account. This time, when I submitted my profile, it posted for free, although the website did offer me a long list of ways to enhance my chances of finding a new lover, each for a nominal fee. “And now, we bait the hook,” I said, with a grin. I clicked on Jason Truman’s picture and selected `Send a Message’. A chat window popped up. I began typing. Callum snorted. “He’s not a dessert, Kenji.” “Shush,” I replied. “It’s a moderately provocative compliment designed to catch his interest and elicit a response.” Callum wrinkled his nose. “As long as that’s all you’re doing. I would hate to think you’re actually talking like that. It sounds … well, it sounds somewhat gay.” I looked at Callum. He looked back. Then we both started laughing. *** I had a few minutes before heading off to school the next morning to check the dating website. To my delight, Jason had left a response to my chat message. It read: My fingers were shaking as I typed a response: Then I noticed the tiny icon next to Jason’s picture, showing that he was currently on-line. Suddenly, it felt more real to me. More frightening. Jason was on-line! Logged in to the same gay dating website as me! Chatting with me in real time. And–oh no, oh no–sending me another message!! My palms started sweating. My stomach lurched. We were actually chatting, and I could imagine us one day staring deeply into each other’s eyes while resting in the same bed after a passionate session of intimacy, covered with nothing but a silk sheet and a thin layer of perspiration, caressing each other on the cheek as we made small talk until our bodies recovered for our next ardent interlude. I panicked and typed. After I sent the message, I slapped myself on the side of the head. College guys never say `Late for school.’ They say `Late for class’ or something like that. I quickly exited the dating program and turned off my computer. This was going to be a lot harder than I expected. I might be a genius, but that didn’t give me any clue how to act older than I actually was. *** After school, Callum and I checked the website. Jason wasn’t on-line. He had sent a response to me, however. Callum and I argued for ten minutes, creating several different messages, editing them, deleting them, and starting all over. Finally, we decided on a simple response. Callum insisted on the `z’ at the end. He said it would make me sound edgy. I wasn’t sure I wanted that, but after my sophomoric comment that morning–late for school?!–I felt a bit of edginess was warranted. We minimized the website and ran downstairs for a snack. Before heading off to work at her restaurant, my mother had made one of my favorites: crab sushi with avocado slivers. Callum likes it too, although he has had to learn to like many of the foods we enjoy, since Japanese cuisine is frequently featured at my house. We added a dab of wasabi and squirt of soy sauce to each bite and chewed enthusiastically, smacking our lips in delight. My mother is an accomplished chef. We washed down the sushi with Mountain Dew. Not everything in our house is Japanese. Then we ran back upstairs to my room and checked the dating site. “Hey. He’s sent you two messages,” Callum said. My heartrate sped up. I hyperventilated. Callum stared at me, then grabbed my shoulders and shook me gently. “Snap out of it, Kenji. He expects you to answer, and you can’t claim that you’re late for school again. So what are you going to say this time?” “I don’t know,” I moaned. “I don’t want to make any more mistakes. Jason is so cute, and I really want him to like me.” Callum rolled his eyes at me and sat down at my computer. He typed: Callum turned and looked at me, raising an eyebrow, silently asking for my approval to send the comment. When I bakırköy escort nodded nervously, he clicked the mouse. A few minutes later, Jason replied: I began shaking uncontrollably. What do I do? I ran into the bathroom, vomited up my sushi (which I strongly suggest you never do if you can avoid it, especially if you’ve had wasabi with the sushi), and turned on the water in the sink. After splashing cold water on to my face, I dried off and returned to the bedroom. Callum had a silly smirk on his face. “What did you do, Callum?” I asked, dashing forward to look at the screen. Callum had typed: Jason had replied: I ran back into the bathroom clutching my churning stomach. Callum was right. This was never going to work. *** And so it was I found myself at the Burger Barn on Friday night at 7:30. My parents thought I was going to the movies with Callum, but Callum was sitting three booths over. He was having the Ultra Burger Meal with an extra order of onion rings and a Fudge Brownie Milkshake. For a little shrimp, the kid has an amazing ability to devour massive meals, leaving nothing behind but a crumpled napkin and a few tiny crumbs. Callum was there, technically, to support and encourage me. I suppose seeing him between me and the door did act as a disincentive for running from the restaurant screaming in fear. Unfortunately, it did nothing for my trembling legs, roiling stomach, and sweating palms. Then Jason walked in the door. I don’t know what happened to me in that moment. Seeing him for the first time in person, his wavy auburn hair, his twinkling eyes, his bulging biceps … something happened inside me. The butterflies in my stomach disappeared. My legs stopped shaking. My heart began pounding. My penis–oh wow–immediately boned up. My God, he had thick arms and a broad chest. I glanced down at his pants and noticed he was wearing sweatpants. Shiny, dark green sweatpants. With a beautiful penile bulge. In that moment, I fell in love with Jason Truman and his muscular body and prominent package. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t love so much as a powerful crush mixed with teenage lust. But I decided in that moment that Jason was the only man I would ever allow into my heart, and I would stop at nothing to make that happen. I waved at him. He glanced at me, looked behind him to see if I was waving at someone else, then frowned in a slightly confused way. I waved again. He walked over and slid into the booth across from me. “Ken Nakamura?” he asked. “That’s me.” I stuck out my fist. “And you must be Jason Truman.” He nervously bumped my fist and said, “I was expecting someone … older.” “I get that a lot. I look very young for my age.” He was still frowning. Obviously considering what I said and unsure if he bought my story. But it was the only story I had, so I added, “I’m eighteen, but everyone says I look fifteen. They can’t believe I’m a freshman in college.” He nodded. Then he smiled (and my heart melted–he has such a gorgeous smile) as he picked up a menu. “How do you like Sac State?” “It’s awesome. A totally different world from high school. Everyone is so much more mature and focused. It’s nice not having to deal with all the juvenile antics.” He glanced at me again. “Yeah. I know what you mean, although the guys on my baseball team can still be immature at times.” “Really? How so?” Shrugging, he explained. “Always pranking each other. Putting itching powder in a guy’s jock. Tossing freshmen in the shower while they’re still dressed. Stupid stunts like that.” I froze. Images filled my mind of college baseball players stripping off their jockstraps and sauntering into the shower while their hairy gear swung casually between their legs. Their muscles would bulge as they grabbed one another and tossed each other about with steam swirling around their naked bodies. “What can I get you boys?” I snapped out of my fantasy and saw a waitress waiting to take our order. “Oh. Ummm. I’ll have the Big Burger with fries and a Mountain Dew.” Jason nodded. “Sounds good. Same for me.” Oh my God! He ordered the same thing I ordered. We are destined to be together forever. Jason saw me staring off into space and cleared his throat to get my attention. “So, Ken, are you staying on campus, or do you have your own place?” he asked. I had anticipated that question. Callum and I had come up with what we believed was the perfect answer. “Off campus. My family lives here, so I’m rooming at home. Saving money on housing, although I did insist that my parents start charging me rent.” It was the perfect answer. I wasn’t a free-loading bum. I was paying for my room. But I was also economically sensible. And now, time for the deal closer. “I plan to move out and get my own place next year. I found a nice two-bedroom apartment I like. I’m dreading finding a compatible roommate, but that’s part of growing up and moving away from home, right?” Jason nodded slowly, then glanced down at the table and said, “You know, Ken. I … well … when I looked you up on Facebook, there was more than one Ken Nakamura in Sacramento.” My butt cheeks clinched. Oh crap! “Really?” My voice was shaking. “Yeah. I found you. But there was also an under-eighteen account for a Kenji Nakamura. It was blocked, since he’s a minor, so I couldn’t check it out without his permission. It seemed like a curious coincidence. Is he a relative of yours?” Okay. I would love to say I came up with a brilliant, off-the-cuff explanation that the account belonged to a young cousin of mine, but I’m not really a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy. I’m more of a planner. And this question from Jason was definitely off the script, deviating from everything Callum and I had anticipated and prepared for in advance. I moaned, dropped my head onto the table, and mumbled. balgat escort “I’m sorry, Jason. That’s me too. I’m Kenji, but I’m also Ken. And I’m a total idiot.” I waited, expecting Jason to throw his water on my head or get up and stomp out of the restaurant. Instead, he placed his hand gently under my cheek and lifted my face off the table. I slowly opened my eyes and saw him staring at me with gentleness and compassion. “You’re not eighteen, are you?” I shook my head, trying not to cry. “How old are you? Sixteen?” I bit my lip and shook my head again. “Fifteen?” I sighed. “Fourteen. And five-sixths.” He chuckled. “Five-sixths?” “Fourteen and ten months. Ten-twelfths reduces to five-sixths. It’s … uhhh … a math thing …” My humiliated voice trailed off. He laughed. “Almost fifteen. So you’re a freshman, but not in college.” I shook my head. “Christo Rey High School. Majoring in Stupidity.” He smiled at me. “And you’re gay?” I nodded but said nothing. “So you created a fake Facebook account and added four years to your age on a gay dating site? Did you really think it would work?” I shrugged. “My friend Callum said I’m too mature for high school guys and should try college guys instead. High school guys are incredibly juvenile. I don’t want what they want. I want a relationship, but they only want sex.” “Really? Are you sure about that?” “Yes. At least, that’s all they want from me.” I bowed my head and tried not to cry, remembering last summer and how horrible it had been. He took my hand and held it gently. “You want to tell me about it?” “Not really,” I replied. “It was mortifying.” “I’m sorry to hear that, Ken. You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.” “I suppose there’s no reason not to,” I said. “It happened last summer, just before school was starting up again. With twin brothers named Terence and Trey Buchanan. They both play football and I’ve had a huge crush on them since seventh grade. They invited me to spend the night with them. They said we would play video games and watch slasher films all night. But before we got started, we all took showers. Not together. I went first. Then the two of them. They came back wearing nothing but towels. When they dropped the towels, they had erections. They stood in front of me and told me they knew I was gay and wondered if I would like to give them blowjobs.” “Did you?” “Yes. I even swallowed. Then I asked them to do something for me. A handjob would be good enough. They laughed and said they weren’t gay. Then they pulled on their shorts and started playing video games.” “Wow. What jerks,” Jason said, squeezing my hand to encourage me. “It gets worse. When we started back to school, they began calling me Kenji Fag-amura. It caught on, and everyone started calling me that.” Jason took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry, Kenji. Or would you rather I call you Ken?” “Either one is fine. Everyone calls me Kenji, which makes me feel like a little kid. I would rather be called Ken.” Jason smiled. “Okay, Ken it is.” I looked up, feeling a sudden glimmer of hope. “Although, I kind of like Kenji,” Jason added. “It’s a beautiful name. What does it mean?” I looked back down at the table. “Everyone always wants to know that. And I hate telling them.” “Is it bad?” “No, I suppose not.” I sighed and said, “Kenji means intelligent son.” Jason didn’t laugh, which surprised me in a good way. Instead, he smiled at me and said, “It seems to fit you perfectly. It’s obvious you’re a very intelligent young man.” “Most people laugh when they hear that, especially if they know how smart I am. I don’t know why it’s so funny. To me, it’s frustrating, because it seems my parents and grandparents expected me to be smart and planned for it and pushed me when I was young to prove it was the perfect name for me.” “It’s not easy living up to other people’s expectations, is it?” “No, so I guess that’s why I want to be called Ken instead. Not Kenji the intelligent son. Just plain old Ken.” “If that’s what you want, I’ll call you plain old Ken.” Jason’s eyes seemed to twinkle at me, as though he was teasing me, but his next words made my heart skip a beat. “The only thing is … I’m sure there’s much more to you than your intelligence, and I would like to get to know the real Kenji Nakamura, not the `intelligent son’ Kenji or the `plain old’ Ken. It seems a shame to lose a part of yourself simply because other people can’t see you for who you are.” I looked him in the eye and said, “It’s up to you, Jason.” “Then I think I’d like to call you Kenji. My new friend, Kenji.” I began to smile, enjoying the way he said my name. I didn’t feel like a little kid when Jason said it. I felt older, somehow, as if I was his equal in life. I know. My imagination was running away with me again. “Thanks, Jason. I could use another friend. After what Trey and Terence did to me, I’ve been scared to make new friends.” Jason squeezed my hand again. “We’ve all been through similar frustrating experiences, Kenji. What those boys did to you was wrong, wrong, wrong. For me, it was my older cousin Dominic, who would ask me for blowjobs every time he was fighting with his girlfriend.” “Really?” “Yep. Until I grew some balls and told him to use his own hand.” I giggled. “What did he say?” “He called me a few names. Hurtful names. Then I kicked him in the gonads and ran off.” We both laughed. Jason looked me in the eye and said, “Kenji, I can’t be your lover, but I will be your friend. You look like you could use a friend. Someone who understands what you’re going through and will be there for you whenever you need him.” I nodded my head, accepting his offer, but it was in that moment, when Jason was tenderly reaching out to a hurting fourteen-year-old, that I fell in love with him. He was the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate man on the planet, and I would do whatever was required to make him my own, even if it meant lying and committing several minor felonies. The end of THE LOVE HACKER, Chapter Two. That wasn’t how I thought our first date would go, but there is one thing about me you should know: I’m very persistent. More to come!
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