Interactive: Preying at The Altar, ch. 6 (Patreon)

Ryan cranked the shower on and stood under the tepid, meager streams that hissed through the rusty spout.  A dozen men of all shapes, sizes and ages did the same around him.  After almost ten hours of working the processing line the smell of dead fish was practically bonded to them.  It was a grueling job, but it suited Ryan perfectly.  He didn’t have to put much thought into what he was doing, the pay was decent, and it kept him active.  When his shift was over he could leave work at the plant and not think about it until he walked back through the doors.  It wasn’t a glamorous job, as evidenced by the open wall of crusted over shower heads in the dirty locker room, but they weren’t there for the accommodations.  

Ryan didn’t mind.  A job was a job.  He’d played enough sports in his youth that he’d long ago gotten over any shyness about showering in public, and now that he was in his early twenties prime, he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about anyway.  His stocky body was covered in a firm layer of burly muscle, that was itself covered in a thick carpet of dark hairs that matched his raven scalp.  His plump pecs bulged on top of his undefined but solid gut, and the hairy mounds were framed in by a matching set of broad shoulders and powerful arms.  His legs were equally built, with large, bouncing cheeks and wide, round thighs that terminated in a pair of surprisingly long feet given his overall size.  Despite his beefy build, standing at his tallest, Ryan was only 5’6”.  His handsome, square-jawed face with its constant stubble, dark features and brooding eyes didn’t matter.  His olive toned, hirsute complexion didn’t matter.  His eye catching rear and masculine, natural muscles didn’t matter.  The first thing that people, women in particular, noticed about him was his lack of height.  At least when he was clothed.  

Naked as he was in the showers, the first thing people noticed about him was the long, thick cock and heavy orbs that hung between his hairy thighs.  Soft, Ryan’s cock was a thick seven inches.  It would have seemed large on a person of average height, but given his short, stocky build, it looked absolutely massive.  He hated being as short as he was, but Ryan was grateful that he at least had a leg up on all the other guys where it counted.  He was at least twice as large as Dale, the naked man next to him, even though Dale stood almost six inches taller.  

“You got any plans for the weekend,” Dale asked, scrubbing his face with his hands.  

Ryan shook his head as he rinsed the shampoo from his short black hair.  “Nah.  Probably just the usual drinkin’ and fuckin’,” he said, scrubbing his furry pecs and laughing as he added, “hopefully.”  

Dale laughed as he rinsed his broad, weathered body.  “Just wait ten years til you’re my age.  Only gets harder.”  

Ryan aimed a slap towards the other man’s crotch, landing on his thigh.  “Really?  I heard it was the opposite when you got older.”  

Dale turned out of the way and reached over to crank the cold water on Ryan’s shower, laughing as the shorter man scampered out of the frigid stream.  “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll find out someday.  Or you can ask your dancer friend for a reference.”  

“Chris?”  Ryan grabbed his towel and started drying off.  His heavy cock twitched reflexively at the thought of his friend’s huge, supple rear.  

“Is that his name?  I never asked.  He’s not my usual type...but with an ass like that I don’t care who it’s attached to,” Dale sighed, shaking his balding head as he started drying off.  “I was thinkin’ of checking him out tomorrow if you’re interested.”  

Ryan nodded as he slid his boxer briefs up his meaty thighs.  “I haven’t caught his act in a minute.  He was showing me some of his new moves a couple weeks ago and...damn…” Ryan whistled admiringly at the memory.  He pulled on a red tank-top, tufts of dark hair sticking out around the edges that stretched tight and outlined his impressive chest.  His thick cheeks looked even larger against the shirt as it draped low and bubbled out over them.  He was trying to decide if he wanted to put forth the effort in landing a hookup from the bar that night, or if he just wanted to text Nate and see what his huge friend was up to.  

He stepped into his baggy jeans and slid his wide feet into his size 12 cross trainers, waving goodbye to Dale and the other guys.  He’d figure out his plans later.  The weekend was officially calling and he wanted to get as far from the plant as he could. 

**** What happens to Ryan? ****