Jeff the Intern, #4 Added Aug 2021 7,739 views 4.8 stars (8 votes) 3,163 words
Keith fidgeted awkwardly as he listened to the twink receptionist informing Keith’s new boss of his arrival like a kid announcing to his friends that the ice cream truck had come. He honestly wasn’t used to the attention he’s started to get lately now that he’d finally managed to layer a few pounds of thin but noticeable muscle onto his heretofore stubbornly wiry frame. Swole guys at the gym who’d looked right through him before were now giving him nods and smiles… that quiet downstairs neighbor with the eyeliner and the bangs over his eyes kept looking at him whenever they ran into each other at the mailboxes… and this guy, a runty, pale-skinned, extroverted bundle of sunshine with a canary-blond Kriswell curl and shining blue eyes that almost seemed like they’d been bumped up just a tiny bit bigger in post, looked at Keith like he wanted to eat him. Keith almost didn’t want the guy to put the phone down because then it would be just them, and being in the same room with a guy who was even a little into him always turned Keith on so badly it was like he transformed into a beacon of male horniness so bright and powerful it could probably be seen from space and felt in the balls of every hot and randy guy from Zanzibar to Ultima Thule.
And that, bottom line, was a bad thing in most cases, but especially this one. Despite his flawless, terracotta-toned skin, reasonably handsome face, and classical proportions, Keith was used to being ignored—the only thing he’d had ever been noticed for was the size of his cock, and that was the one thing he didn’t want to be noticed for. He did everything he could to keep his thick, easily-chubbed uncut tool from catching anyone’s eye—showering at home instead of at the gym, keeping his legs pressed together and his hands in his lap on the bus, never wearing sweats, that kind of thing—but all the precautions in the world didn’t help him much whenever that troublemaking, nearly wrist-thick beefstick of his managed to get itself all the way boned for all the world to see.
It was trying. Even now, it was trying. Fuck, he felt ridiculously horny right now, and that was after jacking off last night before bed and in the shower this morning. Was he that excited about being here and starting his new job? Or was it something else?
The receptionist hung up the phone and turned those hungry eyes on him full blast. Keith shifted nervously in his seat. The chair wasn’t uncomfortable—actually it was an extremely cozy brown-leather arm chair, part of a set with a matching sofa and love seat, like this place was all about the contentment of employees and visitors alike. But Keith knew that he was creeping into the danger zone when it came to keeping himself from springing a huge, pants-tenting erection that would almost certainly ruin his job, his career, and probably his life… and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Shit, how much of this is showing on my face? I don’t want to look like a basket case on my first day, he thought. He offered the receptionist guy a shaky smile. The receptionist beamed back at him. “So,” the guy said, “you ready to come back to Conference Room B with me?”
Keith almost swallowed his tongue. A rush of hot arousal raced through him. “W-what?” he gasped. His white dress shirt suddenly felt tight across the chest and shoulders. I definitely should not have worn a tie, he thought.
Receptionist guy smiled wide at him, like a mouse who’d somehow gained the upper hand on a cat. “That’s where your meeting is,” he said innocently.
“Ah,” Keith said, laughing nervously. He ran his finger under his collar. That was a real thing, apparently, and not just something you saw in old comic strips and sitcoms. His shirt definitely felt too tight now, almost like he’d grabbed the wrong size when he’d bought it. It had fit earlier, though. Weird what the mind will do when you’re nervous, he thought hectically.
The receptionist stood up and gestured saucily for him to follow, and Keith had no choice but to climb to his feet and trail after the man as they passed into the long hallway beyond the front desk and into the interior of the sprawling corporate space. “I’m Josh, by the way,” the compact twink said over his shoulder.
“Uh, Keith,” he responded automatically, even though he knew he’d already given the blond cutie his name when he’d arrived. He was a little too distracted to think clearly, on account of the fact that while Josh was skinnier even than Keith had been before his recent hard-won improvements (and a good five inches shorter—itself, unexpectedly, a bit of a turn-on for Keith), the man very unfortunately happened to have a sweet, round, and positively mesmerizing butt, and Keith just couldn’t look away from it. In fact the rhythmic shiftings of Josh’s pert, perfectly-curved glutes against his tight charcoal trousers were, in that moment, threatening to completely derail Keith’s increasingly ragged ability to keep himself from getting achingly, and obviously, hard.
Josh looked back and winked at him as he walked. “I know who you are,” he sang. He cast his big, bright eyes quickly down Keith’s frame, making a long journey of it despite the elapse of barely a second before he turned to wave into one of the cubicles they were passing. “Hey, Billy!” he called out to the handsome, hairy-looking, tight-muscled bear within.
“Billy” looked up from his screen and grinned. “Hey, Josh-o,” he said in a slight Scottish accent. Catching sight of Keith he added, “Who’s the new meat? Something for us in accounting?”
“I’ll bring you something when I think you’ve earned it,” Josh tossed back teasingly as they passed. Holy lemon zesters, even the way this guy acted like he ran the place was hot, Keith thought. His shirt was decidedly uncomfortable now, straining across his chest and shoulders like it was legitimately too small. And now he was feeling it his thighs, too—his pant-legs felt way too tight all of a sudden from his groin all the way to his knees. Even his shoes felt too small. His imagination must be totally out of control, he thought anxiously. It was almost like his body was trying to convince him he was getting a hard-on all over—or, no, it was more like, that he was growing in proportion to his own arousal, which…
He looked down at himself and stumbled, his mind thrown into senseless confusion like a twenty-car pile-up on a fog-bound overpass.
His shirt really was too small—except the shirt wasn’t too small, he was too big. He was bigger. Somehow he was bigger. His pecs were… what? Instead of the thin slab of boneless steak his once-flat, then modestly improved pecs had been this morning, he had two shapes that looked like half-inflated volleyballs pushing out his shirt like they belonged there, the plackets bowing wildly between the straining buttons. His crimson tie was sort of falling off them like a cliff and dangling over the flat abs below. He felt his shirt sleeves pulling almost painfully at his upper arms, too, and when he looked over he saw that some kind of inexplicable growth had afflicted his biceps and triceps the same way it had his pecs. And it didn’t stop with his shirt. His cheap trousers looked and felt almost ready to split at the seams, and his already prominent bulge seemed to be hoping to dramatically test his zipper even without a full-blown hard-on behind it. Weirdest of all, the cuffs on his pants were showing a couple inches or more of his cobalt-blue dress socks—a corresponding length of wrist was exposed above each hand, too.
Suddenly unsure of his footing, he shot out a hand and pressed it against a nearby wall, leaning on it for support as his brain metaphorically blew its gaskets, sending exploding bolts and springs flying all over his cognitive space.
He was only conscious of two things in that moment: himself, and Josh. Josh was walking ahead, oblivious for the moment, but he would turn around any second and see him like this—so body-expandingly aroused he was somehow about to rip through his actual clothes from head to toe. The hell do I do—? The hell do I DO—??
He couldn’t burst out of his clothes. He fixated on that. That would be the worst thing. The growing didn’t matter, but his clothes ripping off him, exposing him, leaving him basically nude and hugely aroused deep inside the very heart of this beast, this office reality a million miles from reality—that would be an unbearable humiliation at a level approaching complete existence failure.
He squeezed his eyes closed. No, no, no, he thought, sending the plea out into the universe, everything else falling away. His mind filled with only one frantic thought, repeating over and over again. Not the clothes. Whatever I am, the clothes are my clothes. The clothes are my clothes. Whatever I am—
“Keith?” asked Josh’s voice suddenly. He felt a touch on his arm and he started violently, his eyes flying open. Josh was looking up at him, the lust in his eyes mixed with tentative concern. Keith stared down at him—how is he a foot shorter than me now? he wondered distractedly—then checked his own body in a panic. His clothes had… his clothes…
It didn’t make any sense, but he was grateful. His clothes… Somehow they had righted themselves in the past few seconds, conforming to his new configuration. He was still bigger, still swollen with muscle and sized up like he’d had an entire second puberty in the space of the last two minutes; but his shirt, trousers, shoes, even his tie all looked like they’d been tailored perfectly to his new frame, as if he’d been this big for ages and he’d been buying his clothes at Giant Hunk Warehouse this whole time.
He offered Josh a weak smile. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t eat my Wheaties this morning,” he joked.
Josh’s smile spread into a smirk. “Conference Room’s just around the corner,” he said. “Once I get you in there, do you want me to… bring you a muffin?” He actually wiggled his blond eyebrows, too, just to underline the ridiculous innuendo.
Keith felt another wave of wild arousal, his whole being feeling almost suffused with lust. “I think I’d be grateful if you did,” he laughed softly, his lips curving into a smile almost of their own accord. He felt very hot and very, very tempted to lean down and—and—
Wait, was he really that much taller now, or had Josh shrunk a little? He seemed a little more compact, somehow. Was that just Keith’s new perspective, or—? No, whatever was happening to Keith seemed to be spilling over onto Josh, too. The smaller man, though still skinny, was visibly slightly more buff now, almost like Keith had been that morning. And his face was more bewitching than ever, Keith was sure, especially those big blue eyes. Keith was almost afraid to see what his butt looked like now. If that ass had gotten any finer, it might just break Keith’s brain. Not that he was far from that happening now.
Josh grinned saucily up at him, and Keith felt yet another massive rush of hot, unsteadying arousal. “That’s the plan, then,” Josh said brightly, turning on his heel and resuming his brisk walk down the office passageway before vanishing around the next corner. Only when Josh was out of sight and Keith’s attention returned to himself did he realize his body had shifted again. For one thing, he was now leaning against the wall with two hands instead of one. Okay, that was… yeah. Okay.
He straightened almost in a daze, feeling light-headed and hugely aroused at the same time. His swollen chest now boasted two stacked sets of increasingly thick pecs—and not only was his nice white dress shirt still keeping pace with his new muscularity, it had even adapted to his sporting four powerful arms instead of two… though he felt an unaccountable urge to rip the sleeves off and expose his heavy corded arms to the world. Keith shivered, and suddenly unable to hold back his erection any longer he urgently reached into his pants with a hand chosen at random—one of his rights—and straightened out his insistent erection before it hurt itself trying to rip through his trousers.
No, strike that. Not erection—erections, plural.
Just the awareness of two monster hard-ons in his pants hit him like a truck, even before the extreme pleasure of them rubbing together in a confined space, physically hot and already slightly slippery, started to overwhelm his already reeling brain. With a guilty pang he remembered where he was, and quickly turned around to see if he was being observed. Sure enough, a cute-looking South Asian guy was leaning casually against the entrance to his cubicle, coffee mug in hand, enjoying the show. Keith quickly yanked his hand free and waved at the guy, who saluted him with a grin before retreating out of view into his workspace.
For a second Keith contemplated forgetting his new job and just fleeing the office altogether and, if possible, the planet. His landlord probably would like him to pay rent next month, though, and there was always the eating thing. Gritting his teeth and steadying his nerves as best he could, he squared his newly broadened shoulders and, pausing only briefly to sort out how to walk on four feet instead of two, started heading in the direction of the corner Josh had disappeared around.
As promised, Conference Room B was a few feet down the side corridor he’d turned into, but when he poked his head in Josh was nowhere to be seen. He went in anyway, uncertain what to do, and was relieved when the now-two-feet-shorter, gymnast-muscled receptionist appeared a couple of minutes later with a basket of assorted muffins, a folded piece of white plastic, and a couple of cartons of orange juice.
Keith was hungry—he suspected this body took a lot of fuel—but right now all he could see was the muffin of the stud variety currently eyeing Keith knowingly as he closed the conference room door and turned the glass walls facing the side corridor opaque with flick of a wall switch by the door. He set the basket and the drinks down on the side credenza, opened up what turned out to be a big red-checkered plastic tablecloth to cover most of the smoked-glass trapezoidal conference table, and then slinked very deliberately toward Keith.
Their eyes locked as Josh closed the distance between, until they stood, mere inches apart. Keith watched him, trying not to pant too audibly.
“Something tells me,” Josh began, lightly running a long finger down Keith’s deep, doubled cleavage, “that you’re a little too pent up to meet with your new boss just yet.”
Keith knew he wasn’t even capable of subtlety at this point. His whole body was throbbing with need, and he now had two huge erections shoving up past his waistband under his shirt and another two, bigger and even more randy and desperate, poking the backs of his thighs wetly from between his rear set of legs. He needed to cum more than any man ever, explosively and from as many cocks as possible.
“Can you help me?” he rasped. “It won’t take long.”
“It’ll take,” Josh said, firmly holding Keith’s gaze while unbuckling his belt, “exactly as long as I want it to.” Keith gulped as Josh got the buckle open and started undoing Keith’s pants. “Fortunately for you, Brian and Ramón are headed in here any minute…”
The prospect of being discovered caused Keith to feel another body-shuddering tidal wave of hot, consuming need, and he had to hold back a whimper. Josh, still looking at him, freed his three front cocks, each as thick and long as Keith’s own bodybuilder-thick forearms, and added, “So I’ll be quick… this time.”
True to his word, it only took a few moments of exuberant and quite expert ministrations with mouth and hand before Josh had Keith cumming from all six cocks, the rear ones shoving rudely between his front legs to blow their incredible loads. Josh drank some of it and deftly directed most of the rest his tremendous jizz output onto the checkered covering he’d shrewdly laid out. When Keith was finally done climaxing and they’d calmed down with a long hug, Josh then folded the tablecloth up and set it aside to take out with him, mopping up the stray excess spunk with some premium napkins out of the credenza. Meanwhile Keith, simultaneously floating in afterglow and red-faced with raw embarrassment at his easy orgasm and the need for it in the middle of the office at his new job—on his first day, and before he’d even officially started!—fumblingly worked at making himself presentable again as quickly as he possibly could.
When he was done he realized Josh was in front of him again, staring up at him with wry affection. Keith gave him a crooked smile. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, heart still pounding from his stratospheric release and, just as much, from the hot look in Josh’s eyes that suggested a long future ahead of thoroughly mutual pleasure.
Josh gave him a droll smile. “I don’t know, you’re all the way up there…” he teased. Without letting him finish the sentence, Keith grabbed him with all six hands and lifted him easily so they were face to face, then kissed him soundly and thoroughly, letting his long, luscious, newly doubled tongues into Josh’s smaller mouth to intertwine tantalizingly with Josh’s long and talented one. This time, when they broke the kiss, it was Josh who looked a little dazed.
With a smug smile of his own, Keith wordlessly set Josh down, then puckered his lips down at him in a playful air kiss. Josh grinned, and, picking up the detritus of their encounter, headed out of the conference room with a wink. As he passed into the hall Keith heard him say, “Oh, hey Brian, hey Ramón. The new guy is all yours!”
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