The Contractor’s Boy (Part 6)

He didn’t give up hope, however. He didn’t know how Roger was doing this to him, to his family, but there had to be someway to convince his parents that he was their son, there had to be someway they could fight this. After an early breakfast on Monday, they got in the truck together and drove back into town to get to work, and Shane had a plan–a long shot, but a plan all the same. He remembered being their kid, but they wouldn’t believe him–still, there was a record of him. His room, photo albums–his school photos hanging in the hallway upstairs. If he could get either of his parents away from Roger, and show them the facts, then he was sure they would remember.

When he stepped inside, however, he realized Roger had been one step ahead of him–he didn’t recognize the home he stepped into. It was the same house, of course, but the family photos which had adorned the tops of cabinets and the walls were gone, just little pinpricks from where the nails had been before. His parents had the same uninterested look in their eyes when they saw him–he was unimportant, he was just a laborer, someone neither of them would need to remember a year from now. Well, that was what his mother saw, certainly, but his father–the look in his eye was…more complicated, but he couldn’t quite decipher it. Roger gave Shane’s father a smoke filled kiss in front of both Shane and his mother, and then his parents left for their jobs, leaving Shane and Roger alone in the house.

It wasn’t until midmorning when Shane managed to excuse himself for a bathroom break, and snuck upstairs. His room was gone. Emptied, stripped. His parents must have spent the last day removing every piece of evidence that he’d ever existed here. It was so complete an erasure, that he found himself questioning his own memories. It wasn’t any real confidence which convinced him otherwise; it was Roger’s grin when he returned and saw how despondent Shane was. “Don’t think too hard about the past, boy. It’s gone. Besides, you got a great future ahead of you with me, don’t you?”

“I still don’t understand, sir,” Shane said, “What’s going…I mean, what is this room we’re working on even going to be?”

“Well boy, it was always just an excuse,” Roger said, looking around at the space. It had come together quite well, at this point. It was larger than the bedrooms upstairs, and besides from painting, the flooring, and installing the lighting it was largely finished. “Besides, once she leaves him, he ain’t gonna be able to afford a big place like this, not on his own. Gonna have to go on the market, I think. Still, we won’t have to worry about that for a little while yet–not while they still got savings to burn on home improvement!”

Shane knew he didn’t have long, if he was going to get his parents back to their old selves. Roger could tell, of course, that Shane was trying to fight him, but he seemed unconcerned. Another week passed by, and he’d made no progress. If anything, everything seemed to be…solidifying. He knew the house had been different, but he couldn’t quite remember how. His parents no longer seemed familiar either–no more familiar than a couple of clients he’d gotten to know over a few months time. Roger taunted him, when they were at home, filling in bits of memories, talking about their life together while Shane ate out his ass.

Then, his mother was gone, from one day to the next. They arrived, and found only Shane’s father in the house, crying, but not quite able to articulate why he was so upset. He said he’d lost something, but he couldn’t remember what, exactly, but it had been important. Roger suggested he take the day off from work, and then sat him down and they shared a smoke, Shane sucking Roger’s cock, while he talked Gary through his grief, deadening him to the divorce, making it an old wound, something he’d wanted–and by the afternoon, he was a happy bachelor, lounging about, smoking and drinking…his eyes rarely leaving Shane, watching while he sucked Roger’s cock, or licked his ass clean after Roger had taken a shit.

On the way home that night, Shane had a thought–a hope really. “You wanted my dad, didn’t you? First?”

“Don’t be getting jealous now, boy–trust me, I much prefer you,” especially now that you’re comin’ along so fuckin’ nicely.”

Shane had changed quite a bit over the last few months. His beard had filled in, making him look quite a bit older, to his surprise. He’d packed on close to 40 pounds, as astounding as that was to him, and the hunger had become…normal for him now. He’d had the privilege of a shower only a handful of times, and the funk rolling off him was rather awful–but he loved it, as did Roger–who showered about as rarely as his boy. The coveralls were fitting him a bit better these days, though the ass had been ripped open during a rather…rough session with Roger, who’d wanted to fuck him bad one night, but hadn’t wanted to wait to get the coveralls down. “I know, I’m not jealous, sir…but why not have us both? You could do that, couldn’t you?”

Roger glared at him, “Boy, you must think I’m thick.”

“Sorry sir?”

“You still think you can save him? Save yourself?”

“I just…wouldn’t two make you happier, sir?”

Roger laughed. “It’s been fun watching you struggle, boy, I admit it. But your dad is gone, boy. Long gone. You’re gonna be gone too, sooner than you might think, if you keep this shit up.”

“Sorry, sir, I…I didn’t–”

“Shut yer mouth, boy. Don’t dig your hole any deeper than you already have,” Roger said, and shoved a couple jets of smoke from his nose with a snort, “You aren’t gonna be able to save anyone, boy–so you should just worry about yourself.”

The Contractor’s Boy (Part 4)

“No–No, you can’t do this sir, you–they remember me–they have to! I’m their fucking son!” Shane shouted, looking back at the house. At his house. At his parent’s house where he grew up. How could they not even recognize him?

“Them? Trust me boy, they don’t have a son. Don’t even have sex anymore–haven’t had sex once since I started working for them. He’s a closeted faggot, and she’s fucking her boss, and planning on leaving his sorry ass in a month or two. He’ll keep the house though–sort of. It’s the least I can give him, I suppose.”

“No way, my mom would never, she’d…and my dad isn’t gay!” Shane said, “I don’t…I don’t want to go with you, sir, please, let me go home.” He tried to open the door, but while his hand could grip the door handle of the truck, his body refused to pull it and open the door. Why wasn’t his hand working right? What in the world was wrong with him?

“I’ll tell you what, boy–I’ll let you go talk to them, see if you can convince them. If they believe you, that you’re their son, then I’ll let you stay with them–if they want to take you in. But look at you–fucking smell yourself, you fucking pig.”

Shane couldn’t resist the order, and fuck, did he reek. Then again, he hadn’t changed clothes once in weeks, and he spent all day and night sweating hard and cumming all over himself–and that was before Roger had started using him as a cumrag. He was filthy, stains up and down the front and back of him. But still–he knew he was right. He knew it. His hand worked, he got out of the truck and ran for the front door, pounding on it, terrified that Roger would chase him and order him back, but Roger just got out, leaned against the side of the hood, and watched.

His mom answered the door, and she…didn’t look happy to see Shane there. “Oh…uh, did you or your boss forget something?” she asked.

“Mom–Mom! It’s me, I’m your son. Please, let me inside.”

“Excuse me?” she said with a laugh, “I don’t have a son.”

“Who is it?” his father asked, coming to the door as well, smoking a cigar.

“It’s…I don’t remember his name–Roger’s boy. He…it’s nothing. You were just leaving, right?” she said.

“Dad, please–I’m not…I don’t know what he did, but you remember me, right?”

His dad raised an eyebrow and looked to his wife, who rolled her eyes. “He…says he’s our son, as if that cock of yours has ever gotten hard in the same room as me once,” she said. The tone was acid, and Shane saw his father wither slightly, turn, and retreat back down the hall.

“Mom, this isn’t you! Why are you doing this?” She tried to shut the door, but Shane forced it open and tried to bully his way inside.

“Roger! What is the matter with your boy?” she shouted, but Roger was already walking over.

“Don’t worry Ma’am, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” he said, grabbed Shane by the collar of his coveralls and hauled him back from the doorway. “It’s time we left, right boy?”

Shane was crying again, looking at his mom, terrified that she couldn’t remember him.. Her eyes–she was scared of him, but why? He hadn’t done anything wrong!

“Apologize to her. You were very rude, boy.”

“S-S-Sorry…Ma’am…”

“Now, get in the truck,” he said, and shoved Shane down the steps. “Don’t worry Ma’am,” Roger said to her, “As soon as you close the door, you’ll forget this even happened.” She nodded, still a bit shaken, but Roger knew that would settle it, and kept pushing Shane to the truck.

They rode in silence for a while, Shane still stunned. Everything had been normal that morning. He’d made breakfast, he’d talked with both his parents for a bit before getting started on the weekend’s tasks with Roger. Just another Saturday. “Why do I remember them, though?” he asked himself, but Roger heard him.

“Because I want you to. Because–fuck–it’s gonna be fun breaking you, boy. It’s been fun already, but it’s only going to get better from here. Fucking lucky I found you boy, you fell right in my lap. Now, how about dinner?”

They pulled into a fast food drive through, and Roger ordered a ton of food. Shane didn’t feel hungry at all, but Roger told him to eat, and he couldn’t disobey. “I…You did something to them. What did you do?”

“Same thing I’ve been doing for months, boy.”

“Wait, months?”

“Been doing it to you too, boy. I could make you forget them if I wanted. I could make you forget everything. Make you dumb as a brick. Still might do that, later, but I wanna see how you do at home first. See how agreeable you are.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“It’s a good racket, boy. Pick a rich mark, start a nice long project. Free food, maybe fuck a handsome husband for a few months–year if I’m lucky, before they start to run dry of savings. Then I move somewhere else, pick a new target. But I’ve been…lonely, boy. You’re dad back there–I liked the look of him a lot–he was someone I could really have some fun ruining. Was going to take him under my wing, sell off the house once we fixed it up together–but then you come home! Fuck boy, handsome as shit, an athlete–I just had to fuck you up. Was just gonna make you drop out of college and become a proper workin’ man, but…but the longer we worked together, the more I wanted you instead of your daddy. You’re just so…soft,” he said, stroking Shane’s face, “Malleable. You’ll do anything, and you don’t even question it. I can control anyone, but I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who wants to be controlled like you do.”

“I don’t want to be here! I want to go home!”

“Ha, your mouth says one thing, but your heart says another. Your heart wants me to collar you, to humiliate you–make you into a fat, dirty pigboy for me to use for a good long time–so that’s what we’re gonna do, right boy?”

“Y-Yes sir,” Shane said, much to his own surprise, but whether it was Roger’s tricks, or his own secret willingness, he didn’t know anymore–he just kept eating. When Roger told him to jack off, he did that too–and then they headed home, and Shane slowly resigned himself to the possibility that it was far, far too late to do anything about the nightmare he’d found himself in, other than live in it.

The Contractor’s Boy (Part 3)

Shane settled into the new routine of his life with little fuss. He would wake up early–always clad in his work gear–head downstairs and start cooking. His father would come downstairs to eat breakfast around the time when Roger would arrive at the house, and while the three of them ate, Shane’s mother would drift through the room, in her own world, and head to work. After eating, his father would leave as well, and then Shane would join Roger and get started on the work for the day.

He was learning quite a bit, however, and the tasks he was given were becoming quite a bit more than just fetching and carrying. Still, the project didn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense–what exactly were they doing in here, anyway? His father had only ever mentioned getting the house renovated, but had never been more specific than that–but what on earth was this new room even for? He might try and ask Roger these sorts of questions, but quickly learned that he shouldn’t–he’d earn a stern rebuke at best, or if he pressed the matter, Roger would make him bend over the sawhorse while he paddled his ass red.

Usually, however, those sorts of questions wouldn’t occur to him at all. He would just focus on whatever task Roger had given him in that moment, and complete it to the best of his ability. Still, several times a day he’d notice a detail, and realize that something about this entire situation was…wrong. Like when he took a bathroom break one day, and lingered at the mirror, staring at the filthy coveralls he was wearing–that he’d been wearing for nearly two weeks straight. He hadn’t even taken the boots off in all that time either, not without Roger’s explicit permission–say, if he got something in the bottom of one–and then it had to go right back on. The front and the crotch were covered with stains from his own loads of cum, and recently, from Roger’s. He’d taken to jacking off as well, and while he’d often make Shane suck him off, he nearly always shot his load onto Shane’s coveralls, and afterwards make Shane tell him how much he enjoyed being Sir’s cumrag. But usually, a thought like that would derail his concern, and he’d forget about his worries, or he’d start jacking off, or he’d ignore them–knowing that broaching the subject with Roger would be a poor choice.

Still, things were changing. There were a few differences he’d noticed when he’d gotten home from school that had gotten worse–his father’s whole appearance, for example. He’d always been very concerned with his looks, but he’d suddenly made all sorts of changes–and not all of them were flattering. For one thing, he was gaining weight, enough to create a bit of a paunch in the front of his shirts when he went to work, stretching the buttons slightly. He’d started growing out his beard, as well. It had been kind of funny, when Shane had arrived, because the grey in the face had confirmed that his father had obviously been dying his hair to a younger black–but he never dyed the beard, as it grew, and the grey roots of his hair were beginning to show as well. It made him look rather…distinguished–at least, it did until it got a bit overgrown and shaggy.

Then, there were the cigars his father had started smoking–the same brand as Roger, in fact. His father had always hated smokers, and yet he seemed perfectly at ease with his new habit. When Shane had tried to ask him when he’d started, in fact, his father had looked at him like he was a bit crazy–and Roger had insisted that his father had been smoking them for years. Still, that couldn’t possibly be right, unless he’d been hiding it from his mother this whole time. In fact, her behavior was perhaps the most bizarre of all. Normally, she was always micromanaging both her husband and son when they were home, but when Shane had arrived, she’d seemed so…distant and uninterested in them both. Now, there were some nights when she didn’t even come home at all. The only person she talked to was Roger, who’d ask her how she’d been lately, and they’d have a private conversation outside–usually while Shane and his father ate. Everything was different, somehow, and yet, it felt to Shane like all of it was completely normal.

But today…something was different about today. For one thing, Roger was nervous, but in an excited sort of fashion. It was a Saturday, and so both of his parents were home for the day, but Roger had mostly given Shane a list of construction tasks to complete in the room that afternoon, while he’d gone and taken both his father and mother into another room to discuss some of his thoughts on the project’s progress. Shane had expected it to take a few hours, but they’d been hours now, and his list was almost finished. Being unsupervised this long…shouldn’t he be doing something? Trying to get…help? But why would he need help? Instead, he kept working–Sir would be…upset if the list wasn’t done by the end of the workday–he knew that.

He finished the tasks, and sat down on a bucket, groping the wet crotch of his coveralls, ready to milk out another load as a reward, when Roger came back into the room with his parents. “Alright–how’s the list boy?”

“All finished sir,” Shane said, “I…I was just gonna jack off.”

“That can wait boy. Looks like the boy and I are all finished for the day then, so we’ll be leaving,” Roger said to Shane’s parents. “Clean up the tools, boy, and then let’s go.”

“Do you need me to make dinner like usual sir?” Shane asked, a bit confused by what Roger had just said.

His mother laughed, “Oh, he’s very sweet to offer, but no.”

Roger winked at him, and Shane got a bit anxious. That wink…it never meant anything good. Still, he cleaned up the room as Roger liked it, and in ten minutes they were finished. “Well come on boy, it’s time to go home. We’ll take tomorrow off, though, and be back on Monday,” Roger said.

“But…I mean…” Shane said, looking at his parents, “I am home. I sleep here.”

His mom and dad got…rather strange looks on their faces, and looked over at Roger. His mother, in particular, looked quite disgusted. “That’s not appropriate–I thought your boy would behave better than that.”

“No boy, that isn’t appropriate talk, is it. Apologize to the nice lady, and then get your butt in the truck.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, mom,” Shane said, but Roger whacked him upside the head.

“You address ladies as Ma’am, boy. You know that.”

“S-Sorry Ma’am,” Shane muttered.

“Now get going.” Roger shoved Shane towards the front door, and he knew he should object, but the world seemed to be spinning, and he was crying, and he looked back at his parents, but they…didn’t even seem to recognize him. And then they were outside, and into Roger’s truck, where he grinned at Shane’s face. “They won’t miss you boy, don’t worry–and you’ll be back Monday morning anyway for work! But I’ve been missin’ you at home, boy–where you fuckin’ belong–and where you’ll be staying for a good long time.”

The Contractor’s Boy (Part 2)

His parents arrived home that evening, and found their son still hard at work with Roger, room thick with smoke, quite a few cans of beer littering the floor, and as embarrassed as Shane was to be seen like this, neither of his parents seemed to pay it any mind. His mom suggested that Roger stay for dinner, since he was doing such a good job, and Roger was more than happy to take her up on the offer–it was late, and no one felt like cooking, so they ordered some food in for delivery. When it arrived, Shane was surprised by how much there was for just four people–nine extra large pizzas. But while his mom ate her usual two or three slices, Shane found himself in the dining room with Roger and his dad, all three of them chatting (well, it was mostly Roger talking, actually) and before he knew it, All of the pizzas were gone, and both him, and his father’s, guts were stretched tight and packed full. Roger gave them an affectionate rub, told Shane he’d been a very, very good boy that day, and then left for the evening. Exhausted after a long day of work, Shane climbed upstairs–still in the coveralls and boots Roger had given him–thought about a shower but decided he couldn’t be bothered, and headed to his bedroom to sleep.

In bed, he felt…uncomfortable. It was because he was still wearing the coveralls and boots, right? Shouldn’t he take them off? He’d never slept in a bed with any sort of shoes on before, and it…didn’t feel right at all. But that couldn’t be the problem–he was probably just horny. He jacked off instead, blowing two loads into the front of the coveralls, thinking about…Roger. About his cigars, about his voice, about how every time he heard the word “boy” he felt so calm, and relaxed, and happy, and sexy, and horny. It wasn’t long before he finally fell asleep, but when his alarm started blaring at six in the morning, he wasn’t particularly happy. Still, there was a reason he needed to get up, wasn’t there? He was helping Roger out some more today, and he needed to eat before he arrived.

Downstairs, Shane hauled a bunch of stuff out of the refrigerator and started cooking. It was simple fare–bacon, eggs, pancakes–but enough for six or seven people. His dad came down for work, sat down and stuffed himself, and then Shane joined him. His dad thanked him for the meal and then left for the day, his mom coming down a bit later, unfazed by the cumstained coveralls, seeming a bit…distant and uninterested in general, actually. She ate a light breakfast and then left for her own job, and Roger arrived as she was leaving.

“You had breakfast, right boy? Something good and hearty?” Roger said, patting Shane’s belly, which was doing flips–not…only because he was so full, but also because he was horny as hell, and hadn’t jacked off that morning. “Gotta keep the boy growing, right? Light me a cigar, boy.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Shane said. Shane took the cigar and lighter his master handed him, and went through the routine he’d been taught, but Roger could see he was anxious.

“Something wrong boy?”

“Just…just horny sir. I didn’t jack off this morning.”

“You need to jack off boy? You can do that if you want.”

Shane went red in the face, and assured Roger he didn’t need to if there was work to do, but Roger insisted. And so, while Roger smoked a cigar and groped his own cock, Shane reached into the front of his coveralls and started stroking his cock.

“That’s a good boy. Makes you feel good, jacking off in front of me, right boy?”

Shane nodded, but in his head he was horrified. He couldn’t believe he was doing this in front of someone like Roger, but if anything he was even more turned on. Roger exhaled a plume of smoke, and Shane let out a groan as it engulfed him, and his cock exploded. Roger reached out and groped the front of Shane’s coveralls, feeling the sticky cum soaking through. “You’re being a very good boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Go get us a couple of beers, and let’s get to work.”

Shane did as he was told, and they worked through the morning, stopping at lunch time. Roger wanted to go out and get some fast food, and Shane didn’t protest–though the strange looks the older woman who lived next door gave him when he walked out behind Roger made him wonder just what he was doing. This wasn’t normal–none of it was, and yet, here he was, climbing into Roger’s truck, heading for a local burger joint. Again, Roger got too much food, and encouraged Shane to stuff himself–he got so full that it made him horny…or was it the fact that Roger was hotboxing him with his cigar smoke the entire time they sat in the truck? In any case, Roger was talking to him a lot, but he could barely focus–he was happy to get back to work in the afternoon at home.

Roger stayed over for dinner that night too. In fact, Shane couldn’t recall the last time he and his parents had eaten dinner without Roger there. The only difference was that Shane was the one cooking today, while Roger and his dad talked, and his mom got some work done in the office. It wasn’t the best meal, but Roger and his dad praised him for it anyway, and that made him feel good–and plenty hungry–Shane tucked away more than either of them, snorting and grunting, cock hard in his coveralls.

“This boy’s a total pig, Gary,” Roger said to Shane’s father.

“Really sir?” Gary replied.

“Yeah–feel that boy’s cock–see how hard he gets from stuffing himself?”

His dad reached over and felt up Shane, and he was too shocked to even do anything other than freeze as it happened, mouth full of food.

“Damn, sure is! Hard as a rock.”

“Yeah, real pigboy,” Roger said, reaching over and groping Shane’s cock, tugging at it through the rough fabric, sticky from all the loads of cum he’d encouraged Shane to shoot into it all day long. He was close, snorting and grunting through a mouthful of food, and he came.

“Fuck, that’s…kind of disgusting, sir,” Gary said.

“You seem to like it plenty yourself,” Roger said, and felt Gary’s own rock hard cock, “You’ll be jackin’ off later, thinking about your own full gut, right?”

Gary nodded, “Yes sir.”

“That’s good–real good,” he said, and stood up with a belch, “You did real good today boy,” he said to Shane, “and I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

The Contractor’s Boy (Part 1)

Shane would have never imagined that the sound of a drill, or a hammer, or whatever the guy was doing down there could ever be considered relaxing, but so far he’d slept in perfectly fine every morning without fail. When he’d come home from college and discovered his parents had hired a contractor to refurbish and expand some of the the downstairs rooms of the house he’d been a bit frustrated at the thought of his chance at summer being ruined by a bunch of noise, but in his bed, all he felt was calm, and relaxed…and kind of horny, actually. Still, that was hardly a surprise–he was twenty and always horny anyway. He jacked off, shooting a load of cum onto his chest and rubbing it in there, before throwing on a shirt and some lounge pants, and then went down to eat some breakfast.

Aside from the contractor, he was alone in the house–as he was every weekday. Both of his parents worked office jobs in city, and were usually gone by the time he woke up each morning, and didn’t get home until around seven in the evening. As much as Shane would have liked to have the house to himself all day–invite around some of the neighborhood girls for a little play, or a little day drinking–the contractor his parents had hired was surprisingly chill, not that Shane was spending much time with him, of course–but the few interactions they’d had, the guy–Roger, was his name–had seemed…kind of nice.

Downstairs, he passed by the room where all the construction racket was coming from–the place seemed like a setting of controlled chaos. He didn’t quite know how the guy managed to get everything done all on his own. Roger saw Shane pass by the doorway, and gave him a wink–kind of weird, but whatever–and Shane went on to the kitchen, and made himself some cereal. After he’d eaten, as he was on his way back up to his room, when Roger called over to him, as he wiped his brow, climbing back down his ladder.

“Hey boy, think you could get me a beer? About time for me to take a break, you know what I mean?”

“Oh, uh…sure…” Shane said, a bit…worried that the contractor might be drinking on the job, but it was probably fine.

“Get yourself one too, boy.”

“Yes sir,” Shane said, and went back to the kitchen, adjusting the front of his pants–a bit confused that he was so hard after just jacking off less than an hour ago–got two cans of beer from inside and took them both into the room. Roger had turned over two buckets and was sitting on one–Shane took the other, and handed one beer to the contractor.

“That’s a good boy.”

Shane shuddered, but didn’t notice. He popped the top of the can and took a sip, but the contractor set his aside a moment, as he pulled a cigar and lighter from his coveralls.

“I…don’t think my parents would want you smoking in here, sir. They don’t like smokers.”

Roger grinned, but lit up anyway. “Have you ever smoked a cigar boy?”

“No sir.”

Roger chuckled. Shane just stared at the end of the cigar, fascinated, dick obviously hard in his pants. It took him a few minutes to realize that cinder had grown a bit while he was sitting there, half his beer was gone, and Roger had been talking his ear off. He was…embarrassed to realize he had no idea what he’d just said. “Sorry I…kind of zoned out for a second, sir. What did you say?”

“I just wanted to know what you do all day around here, boy. Doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything important?”

Shane didn’t really know how to answer that–he was on summer vacation after all–the whole point was to avoid important work, right?

“Didn’t think so. Still, all you do is lounge around here all day–how about you help me out? It’s a big project, after all, and I could use a hand–especially from a strong looking boy like you.”

Shane blushed a bit at the compliment, and supposed it couldn’t hurt. He had always been a bit interested in learning about home improvement, hadn’t he? Of course, his dad always hired people when he needed work done, so he’d never had a chance to learn. When he told Roger this, the man assured him he’d be willing to walk him through everything.

“I guess I could help you out, sir, for a little while.”

“That’s a good boy,” Roger said, and to Shane’s surprise, he felt a small spurt of cum shoot in the front of his loose pants. “We can’t have you working in that shit though. I got something extra I think, though…” he started rummaging through a pile, “Strip out of that shit boy.”

Shane was naked in the middle of the room, before he realized his hard cock was jutting out, head still leaking cum, and he barely even knew this man. Roger looked over at him, cigar clamped in his teeth, and grinned ear to ear at the sight. He tossed Shane a pair of coveralls. “Haven’t washed these one’s yet, but you don’t mind, right boy?”

“No sir,” Shane said, eager to put anything on at all. The coveralls were…heady with musk, and still a bit damp with sweat, but he pulled them on anyway, and zipped them up. They were…roomy, but the contractor was quite a bit heavier than Shane, probably around 300 pounds, even if they were the same height more or less.

Roger tossed his socks next, and the brought over a pair of work boots. “Steel toes–gotta have ‘em boy. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, right?”

“No sir,” Shane said, and pulled them on too. The absurdity of it stuck out to him a bit, but the boots fit well enough, and before he could really question any of it, Roger started barking orders at him, and Shane did his best to keep up, even if all he was really doing was running and fetching, and lighting Roger’s cigars, of course. A boy has to know how to light Sir’s cigars, right?

Was this going to be enough? Would he finally be satisfied? Erik knew inside of himself that he wouldn’t, even as he trudged through the manure in the barn, the scent of the muck already making his dick rise up inside the stiff crotch of the overalls he’d taken from The Wall at The Center–the place which claimed that it could find work for everyone that came in, and in addition, promised that everyone would enjoy their new jobs. If they still didn’t feel quite right in their new positions, they could come back the next day, where they would be given a new occupation until they found the right one for everyone.

This was Erik’s fourth job he’d gotten from the Center so far. He’d worked in construction the first two days, finding himself enjoying the act of getting dusty and dirty, muddy and grimy and musky, every day finding someone around to fuck with in the mud. On the third day, which he spent emptying porta-potties, he’d fucked a nasty laborer inside one, stinking of shit, and cleaned out his filthy hole before fucking the shit out of him literally. And now, the overalls he’d picked from The Wall had landed him cleaning out the manure on a farm, and when he caught eyes with his fellow shit shoveler, they ended up rolling around in the muck, fucking and pissing and cumming over and over again.

He learned then, that The Center wasn’t really meant to provide people with jobs–it was designed to condition people for the jobs no one in their right mind would request. The next morning, he found himself pulled to the shit covered rubber overalls and gloves, he pulled them on and went to the gay bathhouse where he worked as a full service toilet. Still, by the end of the night, his now dull mind couldn’t imagine having any other job, and he knew he was lucky to be paid to do something he truly loved doing.