Employee of the Month, Pride Parade part 3: 4/NOV

[Shade]

Why don’t I work at this office?

[Broody]

5 hours ago, Shade said:

Why don’t I work at this office?

This is Rich from HR: We’re hiring! Please submit a resume outlining your special skills.

[Broody]

Monday June 8

The weekend passed in a hazy masturbatory blur but by Monday I had a spring in my step as I made my way to my Best Job Ever.

There were flashing ambulance lights in front of the tower as I approached. Tommy the Intern had a bloody nose and was strapped onto a gurney like a giant Hannibal Lecter as two paramedics and six big firefighters tried to lift his huge mass into the vehicle.

“What happened to him?” I asked Brody, who was standing watch. His hard tattooed pec was showing through a big rip in his polo shirt like he’d been in a scuffle.

“Freaked out at the security gate when his card didn’t work. Apparently he’s been fired.”

“Get you, Jeffy…” I heard Tommy mumble as he drooled open mouthed onto his straightjacket. The EMS couldn’t quite fit his shoulders through the door so one of them was unscrewing the side grip bars to make more room.

“I wrestled with him for a bit. It wasn’t hard. No skills that dude. Don’t kids learn to fight anymore?”

“Honestly, youth today,” I said.

“So while I’m ragdolling him around the lobby, trying to find a position for a chokehold so I could end it, the police show up. Their taser just made him madder and stronger so I had to unleash the big guns.” 

He brought his arms up in a boxer’s stance, his Marine muscle flexing into powerful cannonballs. Two twinks coming out of the Starbucks both gasped and dropped their iced coffees. 

Brody mimed some jabs and one-twos as he continued the story: “Eventually he went slack enough for the paramedics to get a needle in him. Shame though. Don’t like to beat on dudes who don’t know how to defend themselves. Where’s the challenge?”

I looked over at the unfolding scene with the ambulance. They managed to get him in the back finally, but then the whole vehicle sank. With a tremendous BANG all four tires blew out.

Karl walked up, dwarfing the EMS guys as they scratched their heads.

“Coulda used you twenty minutes ago, big guy,” Brody grinned.

Karl shrugged. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He winked at me. “But maybe they could use my help now.” He strode over to the befuddled group and I got a hard-on imagining him picking up the back end of the thing and wheelbarrowing it to the hospital. But instead he just gave them the number of a veterinarian who had a horse ambulance. When he walked back, I jokingly told him of my fantasy.

“I mean sure,” he said. “But I don't want to waste more of my day on that asshole.”

“Amen to that, bro.” Brody said, clapping him on his huge lats as they both turned back to the lobby.

I followed behind them, marveling at how thoroughly Tommy had trashed the security gate. The security guard, who was barely bigger than I was, gushed at Brody. “Thank you, sir, I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.” Brody nodded at him, then spoke to us after we passed.

“Died. He would have died. Where do they get these guys, the Coast Guard?”

When we stepped out of the elevator, Rich, a CrossFit guy who was the HR lead, cornered Brody and Karl to get the details of what happened. Karl gave me his Tupperware collection for the break room fridge and I offered to take Brody’s too.

“Dude, I don’t bring a lunch.”

“You buy your lunch?” He gave me a look. “Oh!” I said.

As I walked down the hall, My boner came back thinking about how Brody couldn’t stand in the concourse food court for more than five minutes before someone offered to buy his lunch.

As I approached the break room, once again I was stopped in my tracks by the sound of voices. I crouched and cupped my ear to listen. I recognized the boom of big Trevante, who always listened quietly in meetings and then would announce his thoughts in two or three loud words with his commanding basso profundo. I could also hear Kyle, our basketball expert and Hamza, our junior accountant who was far sexier than an accountant had any right to be.

Kyle said: “What the damn hell is going on around here lately, brothers?”

“What do you mean, Pride Month?” asked Hamza.

“Naw, man, Pride Month’s cool. I got like, three cousins who’re gay or trans.”

“So what then?”

“All these dudes going around trying to prove their manhood by making the new guy cum in his pants?”

“WHITE NONSENSE.” Trevante pronounced. The other two burst out laughing.

“Oh snap! Someone had to say it!” Kyle guffawed. “You do it yet, Hamz?”

“Please. Like I have to prove my manhood to any of these guys. I’m Turkish, bro. I emasculated ten white boys on the subway this morning just by standing next to them.”

“I don’t even get what the rules are,” Kyle said. “Like you have to do it with flexing? My game is way too smooth for that corny shit.”

“And are we even allowed to fuck him?” Hamza asked.

I heard Kyle spit out his coffee at the same time as my hard cock burped a glob of pre. “Bro—what??”

“I’m just saying. What’s in it for me if I don’t get to fuck him?”

“Bro, that’s gay,” Kyle coughed.

Hamza tsked. “Man, read a book. It’s not gay if you’re the top.”

“I’m sure Banner never said anything about that one way or the other.”

“Banner…” Hamza trailed off. And the room got quiet. “He’s a solid dude,” he finished, with genuine warmth in his voice.

“He’d do anything for you, that Banner. Absolute stud, body and soul.”

The room went silent again as the three men sipped their coffee. Then Trevante spoke again:

“NOW HIM I’D FUCK.” 

As the break room erupted with side-splitting laughter, I turned away, and smacked my head on the pecs of Luís, our tech support lead, who was standing behind me the whole time. 

“Ow?” I said, partly in pain, partly in surprise that human flesh could be that hard.

“Poor Jeffito,” Luís tutted. “You hurt yourself spying on mis amigos?”

I looked up from his bulbous chest to his soft dark eyes.

“Luís,” I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Please don’t tell the others.”

“We bargaining, Jeffito? Then we do so, mano a mano.” His big hands lifted me, sliding my body up the wall four inches until our eyes were even. Then he flexed, pinning my body against the wall with those boulder pecs.

“See Jeffito,” Luís said, putting his hands at his side, and cocking his head. “Just two men having a conversation.”

“Sure…” I said, not convinced that’s what it looked like as I wiggled my toes to see if they could reach the floor. They couldn’t. Luís’ face was so close to mine I could see the individual bristles of his spectacular pornstache.

“So what can you offer if I keep your little secret, hombrecito?”

What have gay men had to offer macho straight dudes since time immemorial? I brought the side of my fist to my mouth and pushed my tongue into my cheek in the universal blowjob gesture.

“Ay. Jeffito wants to play with fire,” Luís said, his face a mask.

Oh shit, I thought. I overstepped. It always worked with Irish Catholics. Put that on my tombstone.

“Let’s see if he can take the heat.” Luís inflated his chest in a deep breath and I felt my ribcage creak. He moved his lips closer to mine and for a paralyzing moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Then he opened his lips wider and his hot, sweet breath enveloped my face. Red capillaries spread across my cheeks as I flushed, the redness and warmth spreading down my neck and across my chest, then all over my body. As the heatwave rolled over my muscles, I started jerking in myoclonic tics, emitting little gasps of pleasure, a wriggling insect pinned by Luís’ impregnable pecs. When his lungs finally emptied their humid nectar into my soul, he relaxed his flex and I melted down the wall like goo. Davey passed us as I twitched in a breathless, boneless pile of sated need at Luís’ feet.

“Geez Lou-eeze,” he drawled. “You give him a chick-gasm? Stop showing off.”

Luís ignored him, putting a hand in his pocket which drew my attention to his luscious bulge. He dropped a pager in my lap.

“Consider yourself on call, Jeffito.”

Cont.

[Broody]

Help! Somebody stop me. I now need a spreadsheet to keep track of the characters and I keep adding more!

[FallenAway]

11 hours ago, Broody said:

Help! Somebody stop me. I now need a spreadsheet to keep track of the characters and I keep adding more!

If the new characters are as sexy as Luís, then you can add another page to that spreadsheet!  I don't know what a chick-gasm is, but that thing he did with his pecs and his breath was so erotically steamy, it has found a permanent home in the compartment of my brain that holds my boner triggers.  Well done!

[Broody]

8 hours ago, FallenAway said:

If the new characters are as sexy as Luís, then you can add another page to that spreadsheet!  I don't know what a chick-gasm is, but that thing he did with his pecs and his breath was so erotically steamy, it has found a permanent home in the compartment of my brain that holds my boner triggers.  Well done!

Wow, @FallenAway there can be no greater feedback than this for a smut writer. Thank you kindly . I used to do some erotic fiction co-writing with a friend on tumblr, and one of his favourite ideas was the sexiness of two lovers “sharing the same breath”. This is my version, with a kind of dom spin to it.

[Broody]

https://musclegrowth.net/topic/24526-character-stats-in-stories/

My spreadsheet now has me thinking about character stats in stories, so I started a poll on the topic! Btw next chapter coming soon, featuring Chad and Cam.

[Broody]

Tuesday June 8 - Wednesday June 9

Hamza wants to fuck me. Hamza wants to fuck me. Does Hamza want to fuck me? How does Hamza want to fuck me? Doggy Style? Up against the wall? Hamza wants to fuck me.

Ever have a thought that gets stuck in your head? That was me now. 

I texted Brian in Amsterdam that evening: “Be honest. What do you think of my ass?” He texted back immediately.

“What ass? You dress like a schoolteacher. How could I even have an opinion?”

Hmmm. I guess my wardrobe could use a refresh. Then my phone dinged again.

“Show me”

“What—?”

“Take a picture of your ass.”

“Ok.”

I mean, I did ask, right?

I took off my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. I liked my body. I was 5’9” and 160 lbs. Back when I was a self-conscious 120 lb teen, I always thought this would be a good weight for me. Not too skinny, not too flabby. Of course I was headed for dadbod territory in the near future if I didn’t up my exercise game. Swimming once a week at my condo pool wasn’t going to cut it for much longer. I twisted my lower half around and clicked a shot.

“Ok” was the reply. “Now show hole.”

That was trickier, I really should do more yoga.

A few moments passed before I got the reply.

“Klaus says: Fuckable”

“Wait, who's Klaus?”

After another short wait I got a picture. It showed a sweaty, salt and pepper bearded muscledaddy in a black leather visor cap, his rippling abs flexed in mid-thrust. At the bottom of the picture was a naked Brian, with just his pert ass and the top part of his face visible, eyebrow raised.

“Brian! You’ve been getting railed at a sex club this entire time??”

“It’s 2 AM in Amsterdam. Why else would I be awake?”

I clicked off my phone and sighed, looking at my ass in the mirror again. “Fuckable” Klaus had said. But not “very fuckable” or “damn fuckable”. I tried to do a version of Cameron’s most-muscular flex. I did have little bulges in my chest, arms and shoulders. But no abs and pretty sad legs. I hardened my resolve to go to the gym in the morning.

Tuesday morning I was fumbling for my wallet at the gym reception to buy another day pass when Cam and Chad walked in behind me with their gym bags slung over their meaty pecs. “Jeffy!” Cam said. “Come to watch us work out?”

“Actually,” I said rather proudly. “You have all inspired me to get into lifting.”

“That’s awesome, Jeffy, but you don’t have to pay, it’s part of the benefits package.”

“What? Rich from HR never told me that when I was hired.”

“Fucking Rich! Let me guess, he tried to sell you on his CrossFit gym.” He had, in fact. “That’s shady. We should get Hamza to audit his ass.”

We got to the locker room and I tried to focus as the words “Hamza” and “ass” banged around in my head again and again.

“So what do you want to work on?” Chad asked.

“Ass!” I said.

He turned back to me and smirked. “Cool, Jeffy. But I was asking Cam. You’re a beginner so you should do a whole body workout.”

“Good advice,” said Cam as he started to undress. “But me and Chad will do legs so we can show you how to blast your ass. Great to have goals, Jeffy,” he winked.

“Hey!” called a guy who was putting on a red UnderArmour polo shirt that read TRAINER. “There’s no outside personal training here.”

“Oh?” said Chad as he pulled off own work polo. He stepped out of his chinos and approached the now wide-eyed guy in just his briefs. “You think we look like trainers? So you’re saying I look like you?” Chad planted his feet, put his fists on his hips and did a lat spread. From my line of sight sitting on the bench, he eclipsed the body of the taller man barely halfway through the flex. 

“No man,” the trainer said, shaken and trembling. “You look like Lee Priest.” 

I didn’t get the reference but Chad did and he wasn’t impressed. “You saying I’m short, bro?” His calves flexed bigger than footballs as he went up on his toes to get in his face.

“N-n-no, dude.” Now he looked frantic. “No! I didn’t mean nothing. I just mean, you’re huge!” 

Cam put his hand on Chad’s shoulder. I thought the poor guy’s eyes would pop out of his head as his gaze traveled up Cam’s powerfully thick forearm to his veiny, melon sized biceps to his delts that were bigger than his head. “Holy shit are you guys pros?”

“Yes. Professional computer programmers,” Cam smirked.

“Wow!” He said in awe. “I’d hate to meet your trainer in a dark alley.”

Cam and Chad exchanged a look. “You would shit yourself.”

“I’m glad you didn’t hurt that guy,” I said to Chad as we made it to the gym floor. “I think of you as the sweet one.”

Chad smiled that cherubic smile he gave me during the Cum-a-thon. “I am sweet,” he said. “But I can be salty.” I wondered if I might get a taste after the workout. “Especially when dudes think their height gives them some kind of advantage. Like, dude, I could rip your car door off at the hinges, but sure, go off on how you can reach the can of beans on the top shelf of the cupboard.”

“See that’s the difference with me,” said Cam. “I know you can kick my ass.”

“Well since you chose leg day, you must want your ass kicked, Cammy.”

Cam gave him a tight side bro-hug. “I love it when you call me that. Reminds me of when I was a little kid and my Dad would toss me in the air.”

“That can be arranged,” Chad said. Holy shit I was gonna cum if they kept up this friendly bro banter.

“You’re gonna have to work on those puny delts first,” Cam laughed, flexing his own monsters.

“Oh just for that I’ll make sure you are crawling to your desk this morning, bro.”

Cam gave me a quick routine with the machines that I could do while they did their warm-up squats. “Then come back and watch the fun.”

I kept an eye on them as I did my routine, and came back at least twice because I figured they must be finished with the warm-up with all the plates they were loading on the bar. Nope, still warming up.

Finally, Chad gave me a signal and I came back, my muscles feeling a nice flush from the workout. Maybe I could get used to this. “Warm up over?” I asked.

Chad smiled as he rubbed chalk on his hands, and I gooped a little pre into my workout shorts. God he was handsome. “We’ll pretend it is, for ol’ Cammy’s sake. His self esteem is so fragile. These bodybuilders, y’know, always needing the attention,” he joked.

“You’re not a bodybuilder?”

“Powerlifter.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You’ll see.”

Cameron hefted off the huge weight: there were five big plates on each side and he squatted down till he was almost sitting on the floor. “That’s it bro, nice and deep.” Chad encouraged him. He pushed up and his huge quads flexed into sequoias. “Yeah bro.”

Cam was sweating by the time he racked the weight after 12 repetitions. Chad switched places and pumped out the same number, smiling at me the whole time. He was not sweating when he racked the bar. Clank. They added another big plate to each side.

“This is for five, right?” Cam said.

“Eight bro.”

“Oh right.

“You need a spot, bro?” Chad asked innocently.

“Fuck you.”

Cam powered through the eight reps like a champ, sweat now dripping from his face. 

Chad finally broke a sweat. When he racked the bar, he dabbed a towel delicately on his brow. Cam rolled his eyes, then reached for a smaller plate.

Clang! Chad banged a big plate onto his side and gave Cam a look like: What? Cam grumbled but smacked the same sized plate on his side instead. Cam got into position, and this time Chad stood right in front of him. 

“You got this bro, five easy reps.”

“Three.”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Fuuuuuuuck!” Cam groaned as he lifted off and sank down low with the ponderous weight.

“Monster legs, bro. C’mon push it.”

“Arrgh!” Cam got one solid rep, then two. Veins and tendons were popping out of his neck like crazy as he squatted just as low as his very first rep and popped little hisses of breath like a steam engine. He somehow rose up to his full height again, bellowing at the top of the rep like King Kong. 

“You got this bro. Two more. You’re huge, bro. Blow those shorts out with that pump.” Chad slapped Cam’s legs as he got through the fourth rep, then actually started slapping his face when he paused mid-lift on the last rep. “Don’t punk out on me bro. You’re big! You’re strong!” With a holler that I thought would turn his lungs inside out, Cam finished the rep and racked the bar. Chad waved me over. “Look at this pump, Jeffy, see, this is bodybuilding. You ever see such beauty?” 

My cock tented my gym shorts as I goggled in lust at the swollen stanchions of Cam’s epically pumped legs. As he dripped sweat onto the rubber mat, exhaustedly leaning on the bar, he wobbled his quads like you see bodybuilders do on stage and then BOOM, flexed them hard into an explosion of shiny, veiny, striated meat. 

“But this—” Chad said, as he clapped his chalked hands together and grinned. “—is powerlifting.”

CLANK. CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

Chad added two more big plates to each side while Cam used his arms to cling to the upright metal bar of the rack and slowly lower himself to the floor. “Ow. Ow. Ow.” When he got there he rolled over and looked up at his friend.

“I hope you’re satisfied, bro, you just coached your way out of a spotter.”

“Guess you’re up Jeffy,” said Chad.

“ME??” I gasped.

Cam laughed weakly from the floor: “Oh Jeffy, you’re gonna love it.”

Chad got into position and started psyching himself up.

“Puny weight, bro,” he whispered to himself. Or maybe he was talking to the plates? How many were there now? Nine on each side? “Gonna crush you, then gonna crush your big brother next week.” Definitely talking to the plates. Cam told me how to get into position to spot a squat and I followed those instructions, standing behind him and holding my arms lightly around his wide lats and barrel chest.

Just as he was about to lift off, I whispered into his ear. “Chad?”

He let out a breath. “Yes, Jeffy?”

“How much is this?”

“855 pounds.”

“And you weigh?”

“195 pounds.”

I did the math on just how flat I would be if all that weight fell on top of me.

“Chad?”

“Yes, Jeffy.” His voice was patient, not annoyed at all.

“I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, bro. I would never hurt you.”

I swallowed and screwed up my courage. “Ok.”

Chad unracked the weight and with a metallic groan the bar immediately sagged heavily on either side. I panicked: “CHAD!” I wailed and I fell forward and clutched him tight.

Cam yelled from the floor: “Jeffy no! Chad rack it!”

But whether he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, instead Chad squatted.

His ass pushed back hard into my shrunken fear-dick and I belatedly remembered I was supposed to mimic his position. It was hard to concentrate because his entire body transformed into living rock. His thighs bulged three times thicker than my own as he started to rise out of the depth of the squat. At a third of the way up, Chad’s gym shorts exploded in jagged rents and his beercan soft cock and low hanging bull balls fell through the scraps. I scrambled to gather up the cloth fragments and genitals and my hard-on shot to full mast as I realized I could barely hold all of it in my two hands. At half way up, Chad let out a primal scream and my vision went white and I zoned out completely.

When I came back to reality, Cam was gently prodding my shoulder. ‘Jeffy, it's okay. It’s okay.” I was clamped onto Chad like a backpack. I let go, put my feet on the floor and backed away dazed. I took in his naked boulder sized ass, and realized I had his torn shorts in my hand. Chad looked back over his shoulder and managed his trademark smile even as he heaved breaths.

“Man… Worst spotter ever… Good thing you’re cute.”

Cont.

 

[Ro20316]

He dedinetly is the worst. He missed all the fun.

[Broody]

30 minutes ago, Ro20316 said:

He dedinetly is the worst. He missed all the fun.

Chad will forgive him. After all he just added 160 lbs to his one-rep max