Office Christmas Party - PINUPS and SHORT STORY (fiction)! (Patreon)

The Ghorlax demon had been relatively easy to dispatch, all things considered.

In a not atypical infestation, the foul spirit had latched onto the walls of the modest Billings home in Connecticut and had made it its Earthly tether. The Billings family had become understandably desperate.

They’d reached out to Shade, Flores, and Taro Surrealty, hoping to have the house cleansed of evil so that they might place it on the market, leaving behind the horrors they’d endured in the past year.

It was the day before Christmas, but Isaiah hadn’t been able to refuse them. His heart was too kind.

He had left Flores and Deimos in Maine while he traveled to Connecticut solo. There, he’d managed to destroy the Ghorlax demon, and the Billings family was elated to learn that they could finally list the house and move on with their lives.

Isaiah had caught a red eye back to Maine, carrying back a rather nagging feeling as baggage. Something didn’t sit right with him, and he couldn’t escape the sense that the Ghorlax demon had been bested far too easily.

At the airport, Julio Flores, the man become one of Isaiah’s closest, most cherished friends was waiting to collect him with open arms. The unconventionally handsome Julio wore his best suit, which meant fewer coffee stains than usual, and perhaps a few less creases since this was the Holidays. Flores was proudly of Mexican heritage, and every Christmas he looked forward to plying Isaiah and their partner, the Taro Demon called Deimos with his abuela’s famous hard Egg Nog. This usually led to the two hunks getting outrageously drunk and horny, leaving them easily pliable and open to raunchy suggestion.

In the car, Flores got behind the wheel. He loved Isaiah deeply and was genuinely thrilled to have his best friend back in time for Christmas.

“I can’t believe how fast you got rid of that demon, bro” praised Flores. “That was like, record time”!

Isaiah wasn’t as jubilant as he typically was after a banishment. He seemed preoccupied.

“Yeah… I suppose so. But it was… that is… Sigh. Something’s nagging me. It’s like somehting’s… stuck with me”.

Not one for ever reading the room, Flores continued to grin like an idiot as he pulled out of the airport parking lot and onto the highway. He reached over and placed his right hand on Isaiah’s thigh, squeezing gently.

“Hey man, banishings can’t all be soul crushing fuckeries. Makes sense to me that sometimes, they just go easier than you expect ‘em to, you know. I mean, God knows you’ve done enough of ‘em, by now. Maybe you’re just getting better and better at ‘em!”

Isaiah, looked out the passenger window as the gentle snow begin to whip past the car as it gained speed. He let out the softest sigh. Why couldn’t he shake this feeling?

Sensing that his friend’s concern wouldn’t be eased with mere words of encouragement, Flores moved his hand from Isaiah’s thigh up to his ample crotch. Warm and plump, the package felt Heavenly in Flores’ comforting grip.

He gave Isaiah’s basket a couple of hefty squeezes. Beneath the fabric of Isaiah’s trousers, his penis began to stir.

Isaiah turned his head to look down at the hand groping his confined genitals. He smiled that slim, sultry smile that often made Flores weak in the knees and rigid in the crotchal area.

“Heh! Heh! I guess you’re right, Flores”.

Flores took this as proof of his deep, uncanny powers of perception, and unshakable ability to cheer up his boys.

His grin grew larger, and he returned his hand to the wheel. As much as he wanted to unzip Isaiah’s slacks, pull out his fat, gorgeous cock and start stroking it, the snow was picking up. He reckoned he’d best focus on the road and his driving instead.

“Aren’t I always”? Flores chuckled.

“Well, no… not always...”

“HEY! ZIP IT! HA HA HA!”

The remainder of the drive back to the Shade, Flores, and Taro Surrealty office located in Isaiah’s Manor House was uneventful. It was filled with light, casual banter. Flores went on an on about their Office Christmas Party. He told Isaiah how Deimos had decorated their tree wearing nothing but a jockstrap and a Santa hat, and how Flores had simply had to stop and rim him before the last of the ornaments could be hung. Deimos had been livid after Flores had made him cum all over the village scene at the foot of the tree, and the young Demon had spent another hour cleaning up the copious, sticky mess.

Isaiah listened, and he laughed, but he felt distant. There it was again, that feeling that something was amiss… or rather, not completely resolved. Though he was greatly looking forward to their Office Christmas Party, he had a sinking feeling that the festivities would not go quite as planned.

PART 2

Right on time, the small group of guests began to arrive one after the other. The guests consisted of past clients, suppliers, and other business relations. All brought hosting gifts, ranging from bottles of fine wine to ornately wrapped boxes of Holiday Chocolates and treats. Deimos desperately hoped there would be gingerbread cookies in the mix.

Flores greeted everybody with absolute glee and panache, taking coats and tossing them into a large pile in the supplies and utility closet adjacent the main office.

Deimos wore a wonderfully form fitting houndstooth suit, tailored to perfection. He poured drinks for the guests and made small talk through gritted teeth and as fake a smile as he could muster. The young Demon preferred to let his fists or his cock do the talking, and he wasn’t exactly what one might call a “people person”. This evening was proving a real challenge for him and the irritating chitty-chitty-chat-chat was driving him bonkers.

While the guests arrived and milled about in the office downstairs, Isaiah was stepping out of a blisteringly hot shower. Showering in near boiling water, though terrible for drying his supple skin, had become something of a ritual for him after every demon banishing and home cleansing.

He stepped onto the plush bathmat and proceeded to dry off his beautifully muscled frame. His cock was always so plump after being bathed in hot water. It hung heavy and lazily between Isaiah’s massive hairy thighs, the lip of his foreskin drooping and pouty. His balls were equally weighty as they lulled, freshly steamed within their delicate silk pouch.

Isaiah finished drying off. He shaved, and styled his hair. Then he made his way from the bathroom into his bedroom, where his clothes for the evening awaited laid out upon the bed.

He paused.

Suddenly, Isaiah turned from the bed, and inexplicably made his way out the bedroom door.

Downstairs, the party was in full swing. People laughed and ate and drank and were festively merry.

Lester Jenkins, a middle-aged gentleman and recent client whose home had been cleansed then sold for above asking, had taken a real shine to Deimos during their business dealings. Completely sauced and improperly buoyed by a misguided sense of his own sex appeal, he pressed himself against Deimos, backing the young demon into a corner.

Jenkins presumptuously placed his hand upon Deimos’ chest, stroking those big purple muscles through the think fabric of his pressed shirt. He pinched at the erect nipples beneath, causing Deimos to flinch in discomfort.

“I felt a con… connection between us… HIC… im… immediately when we met...” Jenkins slurred.

The smell of alcohol on his breath was nearly overwhelming. Deimos sneered and averted his head slightly, attempting to evade the acrid odor of the man’s wheezing.

“Yeah. Sure, man. Whatever”, was all Deimos could reply.

Suddenly, Jenkins’ courage grew two sizes too big, and he brazenly slid his hand down the front of Deimos’ trousers. Unskilled digits fumbled and fondled the thick purple penis they found within the pants. Deimos’ ire rose. Not wanting to make a scene, he fought to remain polite and maintain his cool.

“Uhm… wouldja mind taking your hands outta my pants, Mr. Jenkins? We ain’t that well acquainted”!

Jenkins’ grip didn’t relent. He slowly stroked Deimos’ dick, retracting the foreskin up and down the uncircumcised member’s head, as if his clumsy attempts at seduction might sway the Taro Demon’s attitude.

“C’mon you big, beautiful pruple boy… donn… don’t be like thhh… that…! I jusss wanna show you a gudd timmme”!

The man dropped to his knees and unzipped Deimos’ trousers, withdrawing from them his stiffening dong. Jenkins marveled at the massive purple organ.

“FUCK ME… that is a h… hoooge fuckin’ dick… It’s Goddamn BLUE...! Ssss so pretty, too”!

Deimos was panicked. He tried to gently but firmly push Jenkins away, but the former client’s vice grip on his growing erection was unflappable. He began to sweat, nervously glancing around at the other guests who were starting to take interested notice. One was even snapping pics on his Polaroid camera.

“Snap one for me, willya?” Deimos heard another guest ask the photographer.

Jenkins yanked Deimos’ pants down to his ankles, baring his hairy ass and legs. Once the trousers were out of the way, the man clutched Deimos’s perfect granite buns in his hungry hands, kneading the muscular mounds with abandon. He pulled Deimos’ pelvis closer to his mouth and unabashedly swallowed the tip of Deimos’ increasingly hard penis into his wet, waiting mouth.

Deimos groaned and moaned as he despaired. Everyone was staring, snapping pictures. He didn’t know how the Hell he could get out of this situation with any grace and dignity. It was embarrassing as all-Hell! There seemed to be no way to win as his former client hoovered his dick as though it were his life support tube.

The young Taro Demon though the might lose it when Jenkins began exploring his asshole with one of his rude, uninvited fingers, but suddenly, Isaiah appeared beyond the office doorway, start naked, dick hard as a flagpole!

In a flurry of speed, the towering hunk rushed over to where Jenkins was molesting Deimos and grabbed the oppressor by the shirt collar, yanking him from the violet meat he’d been devouring and slobbering all over.

“Get the HELL off my boy, Jenkins”, Isaiah roared!

Everyone, including Deimos, was stunned by the forcefulness of Isaiah’s retaliation… AND by his complete nakedness. Isaiah’s perfect manhood drooled clear gobs of precum and bounced and jounced as the stud leapt into action.

More Polaroids were snapped.

“Everyone, OUT!” bellowed Isaiah.

Deimos desperately tried to pull up his pants and tuck his throbbing, spit and alcohol-slickened penis back into his trousers. Flores jumped at Isaiah’s shout, spitting up the sip of wine he’d just slurped back.

Humiliated, Jenkins was no longer feeling so festive. He stood up and collected himself with what little dignity he could muster. He grabbed his jacket from the utility closet. Without so much as another word, he made his way out the door into the dark Maine evening, now rumbling with the beginnings of an angry snowstorm.

The other guests, uncertain what to do at first, could only follow suit. Poor Flores apologized profusely to each and every one of them, handing parting party gifts and favors as they left, uncertain of what to say or where to look.

Meanwhile, Isaiah stood, legs apart and firmly planted upon the office floor, fists tightly balled at his side, his cock throbbing with hardness, pulsating with the heartbeat of a man who’d become inexplicably agitated.

Deimos could have taken care of himself and remedied the situation a little more subtly. Isaiah knew that. And yet, a burning rage had overcome him, bringing the Office Christmas Party to an abrupt halt and a premature end.

Once the guests had all departed, Flores and Deimos cautiously approached their friend, who was still standing, fuming with his massive, dribbling hardon.

Flores was the first to speak.

“Dude, what the Hell? You went a bit overboard, don’t you think”?

Isaiah glared at him. Through a tight-lipped snarl, he cautioned Flores not to push any further.

Deimos stepped between them, for fear that Isaiah might attempt to throttle poor Flores, knowing full well that in a fight, Julio could never take the wall of muscle that was their obviously perturbed friend.

Deimos tried a different, less accusatory approach.

“Thanks for yanking that turd offa me, Isaiah. Mr. Jenkins had no right to do me like that…”!

This seemed to soften Isaiah’s mood, if not his cock. His fists let up a bit, long enough to grab Deimos by the sportsjacket, and spin him about, thumping his purple rump into an office chair.

Not knowing what was up with Isaiah, but also unwilling to aggravate his friend any further, Deimos went with the flow, and limply let himself be tossed about.

Naked and with an unrelenting, dripping boner, Isaiah leapt atop the chair and began sniffing at Deimos’ neck and hair, groping his beefy tits through his shirt. He raised Deimos’ arms up and sniffed his pits deeply, intoxicated by the deep musk he found there. Isaiah was in the grip of a strange, all possessing heat. He caressed Deimos’ bulging basket and stroked his own erection in profound, arousing appreciation.

Isaiah was not himself, that much was clear. As Flores watched on, his friend swiftly ripped open Deimos’ shirt, sending small buttons hurtling about the room like so much shrapnel. The dense hair on Deimos’ chiseled chest glistened in the light of the crackling fireplace and candle-light. Isaiah ran his big hands through the forest of fur covering those exquisite purple beeftits, cupping, squeezing, kneading, occasionally tormenting the young Demon’s diamond-hard nipples. He bit Deimos’ neck roughly, but not hard enough to break the skin. He nibbled at his ears, extending his warm tongue, lapping at them like a hungry dog.

Isaiah rubbed his hard cock against Deimos’ still-confined crotch, leaving behind a delicate trail of pre-ejeculate. Whatever was wrong with Isaiah, this was hot as Hell in Flores’ humble opinion.

Even Deimos, though obviously perplexed and concerned, seemed to be getting into it, as evidenced by the deep-blue plum of his dick which was now poking out the waistband of his trousers and leaking pretty good quantities of precum itself.

Hot though this may have been, it was NOT RIGHT, and Flores knew it.

Isaiah pried Deimos’ erection from his slacks, immediately attacking the massive organ, swallowing much of it’s veiny girth in one gulp. Deimos moaned and whimpered, beside himself, not knowing if he should just give into this, or do something to stop Isaiah who was clearly not himself.

“Uuhhooh, my G… GAWD”!

Deimos mewled and quivered as Isaiah sank his teeth into his foreskin, nibbling, gnashing, tugging, chewing, driving the young pup absolutely MAD with heat!

Flores would have gladly stayed to watch. Hell, he would gladly have joined them. But while Isaiah was clearly captivated by Deimos and his purple hardon, Flores remembered their conversation in the car on the way back from the airport earlier that evening. Something Isaiah had said stuck with Flores. It had seemed innocent enough at first, but now Flores was convinced it had just been casual hyperbole.

“It’s like something’s stuck with me”, Isaiah had mentioned.

Flores knew immediately that the banishing of the Ghorlax hadn’t gone quite as it should, and that somehow, a part of that creature had latched onto his friend, dialing his testosterone up to a million!

Julio Flores knew what had to be done. As he darted from the office to locate a vital tome, Deimos had given up trying to resist Isaiah who had now stripped him out of his suit and trousers entirely. All that remained was Deimos’ necktie, tied in a loose, sloppy loop of fabric around his thick neck.

In a swift sweeping motion of his arm and fist, Isaiah cleared away bowls of chips and dips, plastic wine cups and bottles of alcoholic refreshments from a large table top. When the table had been swept relatively clean, he unceremoniously shoved Deimos roughly up on. On his tummy, Deimos could no longer see the fevered expression upon his friend’s face, but he could feel the warmth of his big mushroom knob as it probed between Deimos’s titanium ass-cheeks. Isaiah slapped his friend’s beautiful round ass repeatedly, causing the Taro Demon to moan anew. He wanted it now… whatever was wrong with Isaiah be damned. He wanted to get demolished!

Forcefully, Isaiah thrust his enormous, rock-solid member into Deimos’ tiny, unprepared hole. Deimos yelped and whimpered as the rigid organ penetrated him. His breath caught in his throat, and his lungs burned as his heart hammered beneath his hairy chest.

After a moment of thinking he might literally die, or at the very least pass out from the sudden intrusion, Deimos relaxed a little. Soon his hips began to sway in tandem with Isaiah’s rhythmic thrusts, rising to meet each lunge with practiced and hungry skill.

Loud, wet slapping noises echoed throughout the office as the two exquisitely put-togehter male specimens smashed into one another, animal in their passions and oblivious to anything else.

After a few moments, Isaiah felt himself drawing near to climax. Both he and Deimos were drenched in sweat, their hairy, muscular bodies colliding and grinding against one another like great tectonic plates carried, violently displaced by an indisputable inertia. Deimos’ own penis bent downward over the edge of the table.  It slammed repeatedly against the wooden edge, a long, thick string of precum drooling from his swollen glans, linking his organ to the office carpet below. His legs trembled as Isaiah intensified the pounding.

At least, as the two men erupted in orgasm, Flores reappeared, an old, dusty book firmly in hand. There was cum everywhere… the amount was almost… unnatural.

As the two men ejaculated, Isaiah grabbed hold of Deimos’ body as if for leverage. He drew him closer, and soon, they were coated in a glossy sheen of sweat and sperm and saliva. They slipped and slid and slicked against one another, miraculously somehow never coming apart.

Doing his best to ignore the intensely homo-erotic spectacle unfolding before him, AND the growing erection in his own trousers, Flores found the correct page in his ancient volume and began to chant.

PART 3

The storm had dissipated and was no longer howling.

The sky had mostly cleared. The glittering snow fell gently, harmoniously forming a pristine blanket of white which glistered delicately in the moonlight.

It was Christmas Night, and sure, the Office Christmas Party had been a bust… well, mostly… Deimos had to concede that a part of him had rather enjoyed being Isaiah’s bitch… but Flores had gotten everything under control the minute he began to recite that ancient passage.

The Ghorlax had “stained” Isaiah with a lingering heat that had caused the young man to act quite unlike himself. With his spell, Flores had cleansed Isaiah’s spirit, leaving him free to finally regain his senses.

Isaiah had been mortified. He’d apologized profusely to Deimos and to Flores both, for ruining the party, and for using Deimos like a fuck-toy. Neither of his friends held a grudge, though they all agreed that in the morning, letters of apology would have to be written and sent out to all who had attended the soirée and witnessed the unseemly spectacle.

The three Surrealtors had chosen to retire to the hot tub in the back yard which overlooked the Poseidon Point lighthouse visible from the Isaiah’s manor house. As the warmth of the bubbling waters began to dissolve the tension from their weary muscles, the three naked men huddled together, relishing one another’s company.

Isaiah in the middle, arms around the shoulders of Deimos and Flores who were cuddled at his sides, he couldn’t help himself. He suddenly let out a bellowing, heartfelt laugh.

His pals puzzled at this and regarded him quizzically.

“You’re in a good frikkin’ mood given that our Office Christmas Party was a total shit-show dumpster fire” expressed Flores.

“Oh, I dunno...” mused Isaiah, smiling.

“It might not have been perfect, but it was certainly memorable”!

The three young men laughed in tandem.

Suddenly, they weren’t so mortified anymore. Maybe, just maybe, they’d given their guests something better than just a run-of-the-mill boring old Office Christmas Party. Maybe they’d given them a heck of a show and a great story to talk about... Not to mention some scorchingly hawt Polaroids to cherish. And really, what could be better than that for Christmas?

THE END!

ARTWORK / STORY : Patrick Fillion

COLORS: Cabrera & Fillion

ISAIAH SHADE, JULIO FLORES, DEIMOS, and all other characters are © Copyright and TM 2023, Patrick Fillion / Class Comics Inc. All rights reserved.