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Time Warp Again, The
|This story is the third segment in a series, it comes after "That Old Black Magic" and "What's In a name?".|
|Eric got up on Monday morning to both the sound of the high pitched siren of his alarm clock and an incessant pounding on his door, "Either get the hell up or turn off the damn alarm!" someone shouted from behind the door. He clumsily smacked his hand down on the snooze button. Whoever had been thumping on his door, satisfied, now returned to his own room.
Eric stumbled out of bed, rubbing his head in a fog. He felt like he had a hangover, like he had gone on some terrible bender the night before, but he had only had a couple of drinks with Claire on Monday night. No, It had been Sunday night. Today was Monday…wasn't it?
He spent a good ten minutes trying to find his bearings before he realized that he should already be done with his morning run. He threw on his sweats and flew out of the house. After about 6 blocks of brisk running he was ready to die. He had never been so sluggish. He hit the wall before even getting a third of the way into his routine. Where it normally took him about a half an hour this one had him huffing and puffing and holding his side for a good 60 minutes. The only thing that kept him going was determination and the mantra, "to be an executive you have to LOOK one."
He practically collapsed into the shower. He was running late so he quickly scrubbed up. He grabbed the nearest bottle of shampoo and ran it through his hair without regard to label or brand. When he went to shave his face his thick coating of whiskers made it hard for him to rush the job. But even with careful strokes he still managed to cut himself. He kept nicking his jaw and chin, it was almost as if he wasn't used to shaving the planes and angles of his own face…
He jumped out of the shower with out even enough time to slap on some After-shave.
Toweling away the steam from the mirror, he was momentarily stunned with confusion. Something seemed out of place…but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He took quick inventory of his appearance. He thought his face seemed somehow broader…but no he always had the impressive strong jaw line and broad chin. His neck tapered down unto his wide shoulders and his lightly developed chest was covered with a healthy rug of brown hair.
He shrugged away his concern and put a big glob of gel in his hands and slicked his mop of shaggy brown hair back away from his face, so the arrant strands rested loosely at the nap of his neck. The length of his hair gave him pause and made him think that he needed a hair cut, but his hair was always this long, wasn't it
The first suit he put his hands on was the one he decided to wear and he accessorized it with the nearest available tie. The clothe seemed very confining and bunched up in odd places when he walked and moved, like it was three sizes too small for him. It made him very uncomfortable and self-conscious. He must be putting on weight or something. He rushed through dressing with thoughts of breakfast, for some reason he was insanely hungry.
The roommates were all huddled around the table eating like pigs at slop. Brian chewed mindlessly on a piece of toast in a pair of jogging shorts. Gino furiously shoveled fruit loops into his mouth and Damien, dressed in baggy sweats, eyed him strangely over the morning paper.
He made himself his customary bagel and grapefruit but after he ravenously finished them both in record speed, he was still hungry. He managed to pry the sports page away from Brian and read it as he helped himself to two big bowls of Gino's cereal. As Brian was leaving he turned to Eric and asked, "hey man you want to get a few bruski's tonight."
"No buddy I gotta spend some time with the little woman, if you know what I mean." He answered with a knee jerk response and then to his surprise they both laughed the same vulgar laugh.
He finished his bowl spilling a little milk down his tie and made a mad dash to his Jag. Even speeding didn't help escape being twenty minutes late for work.
Patricia Emery was waiting patiently in the doorframe of his office. "You're late." She said simply. He brushed passed her hurriedly throwing his briefcase on his desk.
"Patricia, What's my…my…uh.." he struggled searching for the word.
"Itinerary?" She offered.
"Yeah that." He said relieved.
She looked at him suspiciously "First you have a stack of federal Regulation reports that need to be completed."
"Aww shit." He complained.
Patricia looked up shocked, at his use of an obscenity. "Then you're having lunch with Mr. Jarvis, After which you're supposed to go to shipping and meet with Hank Tomas."
Eric ran his hands frustratedly though his shaggy brown hair, "Aww fuck I don't want to have to spend a whole lunch hour with that old fart."
Patty looked around the room for the hidden camera.
Eric began sorting through his paperwork and she quickly excused herself from the weirdness that was occurring in Mr. Redman's Office. "Oh by the way Claire Eddington called, she wants to meet for dinner." Eric's reaction was to let loose another string of obscenities. He let her leave his office without even a passing notice to the low cut red blouse or her butt as she hurriedly escaped his presence.
The morning was terrible; he poured over his reports in confusion. As hard as he tried he couldn't get through them without calling Patricia in and asking her for help. The numbers all just seemed to run together. The regulations and technical bullshit made his head swim and he more then once angrily hurled a report across the office floor. It was like he was having trouble thinking today. He had only gotten through half of them when Patricia buzzed into tell him that e was late for his lunch with old man Jarvis.
Jarvis made him go to some fancy Italian place where the menu was all in French or something. He asked the waitress to explain what everything was almost twice. He hurriedly ordered a salad and some pasta, but before she left he changed his mind. "Hey sweetheart, fuck the grass…bring me a big steak and some fries." He said hungrily.
Jarvis looked at him strangely, 'That's a little heavy for lunch isn't it Mr. Redman."
Eric laughed loudly, "Shit I gotta keep myself fueled don't I?"
" I suppose…"
"How would you like your Steak sir?'
"Anyway you want to bring it, just as long as it ain't fuckin' mooin', Am I right Jarvis?" He barked while slapping the aged executive on the back.
The remainder of the lunch was spent in intervals of awkward silence and equally awkward conversation. Jarvis would discuss Company policy and Eric would interject with vulgar anecdotes that he didn't even know he knew but found extremely funny.
Mr. Jarvis excused himself prematurely, creating some excuse about how he needed to finish some work, leaving Eric to enjoy his steak in peace.
He went right from lunch to the shipping docks, seeing the tour of the docks as a welcome reprieve from his mountain of paperwork.
Standing somewhat unconfidently near the loading doors Eric waited for the foreman to show up. All around him large men in work clothes grunted over the heavy packages they were struggling to get onto the bed of a Mac truck. There wasn't a man in the entire docking area who looked like he weighed less then 200 pounds of corded muscle. They were hard working, hard sweating brutes of men and strangely Eric Redman found himself a little intimidated by them. Deep in his mind he found himself thinking quietly about how much he admired men like these guys big manly guys who could lift three times there weight and didn't have to mess with the bullshit of the corporate rat race. Salt of the earth Dudes who didn't take any shit.
"You look lost buddy, need some help?" a good natured voice asked from behind him.
"I'm looking for Hank," he said as he turned to meet the speaker.
"You found him, pal." The stranger laughed a barking full-chested chuckle. The man who had answered him was about an inch or two shorter then him. And a lot wider with strong lifting shoulders that sat on top of his frame like a shelf. He had close cut curly hair and a thin, short-beard that covered his tan jaw in fuzz of whiskers. The hair on his head and chin was a golden brown that shone with the natural highlights of working in the sun and his tan was a deep brown enriched by constant exposure to the elements. From behind the tan skin two green eyes sparkled at him friendly.
Eric was struck at how handsome the foreman was. It was a strange observation for him to make, but it was just a simple fact. And he had gorgeous eyes too…
"Eric Redman," He mumbled self-consciously still staring into the other man's eye's intently. "They sent me from upstairs." He finished extending his hand.
Hank grabbed his extended palm forcefully with his thick hairy forearm and shook his out stretched palm with such ferocity it made him want to laugh. "Good to meet ya Eric…Or should I call ya Red? I bet all your buddies call ya Red, Am I right?"
He coughed uncomfortably, "Uh no they don't."
"Oh Okay then." Hank rolled his bull shoulders in agreement and put his dirty hands in the pockets of his overalls. "Guess we better start the grand tour."
Hank happily showed him around the entire Shipping floor introducing him to all the men on the 2nd shift crew. Each time Eric found his hand grasped by the firm sturdy grip of the workers and look into their dusky faces at the open and simple eyes he was a little more ashamed of his corporate attitude. And found himself envying the simple lifestyle they maintained the average workday. No stress, no hassles just good old-fashioned work. He wondered why they were such foreign concepts to him.
The best part of the afternoon was getting to know Hank. He was a genuinely nice guy. Hank kept cracking jokes try to put him at ease and told him if he ever needed somewhere to hide when the paperwork or the bullshit upstairs piled up to high, he could always come down to shipping.
"Hey me and a couple of the boys are goin down to Smitty's to get some beers after work why don't you come?" Eric was really grateful for the offer and went back to work to his cell…Office thinking incessantly about what a great guy Hank was. And occasionally thinking how great Hank's ass looked in those overalls.
At the end of the day he was so tired from the stress that he cancelled dinner with Claire and went right home. He contemplated meeting Hank and the other guys at the bar but decided against it. He just didn't fit in with those guys, no matter how much he wished he did.
The house was dark; all his roommates must be out. He sat down on the couch and downed a couple of beers. He was on his fourth when he was so damned bored with the news that he began channel surfing. He flipped across the channels until stopping suddenly. The TV flashed with a view of a locker room and a huge mountain of a man in tights yelling threats into a microphone. Eric watched in rapt fascination for a half-hour before he realized that he was watching professional wrestling. But by the time he made the shocking realization he was already to involved.
There was aguy With dark skin, who seemed to be hiding some kind of ethnicity beneath his ridiculously tight costume. He seemed Hispanic or Arabian r. And another one Who looked like an exaggerated caricature of white bred masculinity who had a shaven head and a goatee on top of a neck the size of a telephone pole. And they were rolling around the ring beating each other into a pulp. Eric admired both competitors thinking of what good shape the men were in and how strong they were. He watched the match to its end, yelling at the television more then once before the massive bald man was declared the winner.
While he watched the two brutes roll around with each other he got a massive hard on. He was so turned on that he uncharacteristically pulled out his dick and began to stroke it right there on the couch. He heatedly massaged his excited cock; he laid his head on the back of the couch letting his hair fall heavily across his neck. As he continued jerking off his warmly aroused cock he let his mind wander in a half masturbation fantasy half-dream state.
At first he was having a regular stroke fantasy, he was in the wrestling ring from television and was fucking one of the ring girls. She was blonde and wore a scandalous little T&A outfit. Eric was wearing his suit and tie and only had his pants unbuttoned far enough to drive his rock hard dick into her.
As he was happily fucking the blonde, The two big muscle bound behemoth wrestlers watched and cheered him on. The dark guy…The Dark skinned man with black hair and mountains of tanned muscle and the guy the bruiser with the goatee' and shaved head watched from the sidelines calling and egging him on in camaraderie.
Eric found himself staring more at the glistening pecs, bulging guns and thick thighs of both wrestlers instead of the humpy girl beneath him. He continued to stare in adoration at their magnificent brawny bodies, until they took quick cocky strides toward him, their hips rolling their big legs across each other.
The dark wrestler in his black trunk briefs and black boots made the first move. He grabbed Eric's suit jacket pulling it off him, and then ripped the white shirt off of him snapping all the buttons. He could feel the strength in the other guys hands.
The bald guy Began undoing Eric's pants the rest of the way, his gargantuan back showing like a plateau of muscled white flesh as he bent over.
The blonde had all but disappeared.
He was eventually naked before both masculine gods and dropped to his knees in a move to begin sucking on the Dark haired wrestler's hidden package but they both pulled him up with little effort and handed him some clothes to put on.
He looked down on the material, a pair of red tights and boots to match. In his head he was screaming to throw the stuff down and wake up but he was fucking turned on, more then he had ever been in his life. So against his better judgement he slipped into the constricting tights and slipped on the padded molded boots. As he dressed the two primal men felt every inch of his body pressing their huge arms, and legs against him, never leaving him without the glory of their physical contact. Their thick exaggerated muscles never stopped touching his skin.
When he was done dressing they broke their contact making him gasp in regret.
He stood alone in the center of the ring naked except for the similar costume they had handed him.
When they were done he didn't look like himself; both brawlers gave an approving look at their handiwork. He looked like them, big exposed hairy chest, concrete legs stuffed into a pair of red tights, Sweat soaked hair.
He looked just like the steroid exageratted men they had made him one of them. He wanted to get away or wake up but it was hard to think, all he could manage to focus on was how hard his dick felt and how hard the dark skinned wrestler's dick looked.
The dark skinned wrestler came close to him, grabbed his big ass and met him on his new eye level, "Now you're one of us RED buddy," and then he forced his mouth big and wide unto Red's waiting lips. Red melted into the sweaty kiss, but when the Wrestler from TV pulled away…It was Hank.
Red…Eric awoke from the nightmare with a start his hands resting comfortably around his balls and his expensive shirt and tie covered in loads of cum.
He finished his sixth beer quickly and crawled into bed. He turned out his light and his last thoughts before drifting off into sleep were strangely of Hank…
. …Damien walked through the door just in time to see the light in Eric's room go off. "Now the real fun begins," he chuckled.
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