Climbing the Ladder, ch. 11 (Patreon)

Shawn’s cock throbbed at the sound of Duncan’s heavy footfalls plodding back towards their shared cube.  Being so close to his massive brute of a coworker was a constant distraction, but one he was all too happy to put up with.  The hulking blonde was a beefy wall of unsculpted bulk, his blunt features a perfect complement to the raw, primal masculinity that radiated from his broad frame in overwhelming waves.  

Overwhelming to Shawn, at least.  Just thinking about Duncan’s booming voice and the way the other man dwarfed his own impressively athletic build was enough to leave the former jock even hornier than usual.  Though for some odd reason, Shawn kept catching himself thinking of Duncan as a lean, fit pretty boy.  A preening douchebag, not an imposing beast of a man.  He had, or thought he had, memories of his first days at Hadley, Bowen & Lath that included a very different Duncan, but those memories were growing hazier and more nebulous by the day.  Everything about those hectic, early days was so different that they seemed to belong to another life entirely, not a mere handful of weeks in the past.  

Shawn knew it was just the stress of moving and starting in such a high octane position that colored those early impressions.  Of course he’d behave in a stuffy, uptight manner when first settling in.  Despite how much he loved the attention, Shawn wasn’t going to kick in the door on the next phase of his life with nothing but a purple thong and a dripping cock without testing the waters first.  If that meant holding himself back until he figured out where he fit in, it was just another sacrifice he’d make for his career.  Fortunately, it hadn’t taken long at all for the dark-haired hunk to realize that HB&L was a company that appreciated their workers for who they were in all their unique glory, and now Shawn felt ridiculous for ever holding himself back as he strutted around his floor of the Tower in as little as possible, or nothing at all.  Even the crushing stress of the office was mitigated by the knowledge that he was free to walk around with his usually-hard cock snaking down the leg of his tight pants while the straps of a jock were clearly visible against his perky rear.  And if there was a damp spot on one of those thighs near the bulbous, outlined head of his impressive rod, no one really cared.  At HB&L, individuality was celebrated, not punished.  

And it showed.  Shawn had never seen such a unique menagerie of men in his life.  On his floor of the Tower alone he was surrounded by chiseled adonises and thick, beefy meatheads.  Short or tall, there were handsome young jocks like himself mixed in with older, more seasoned men, and a quick glance around the showers showed equipment in all shapes and sizes.  From AJ’s barely visible nub all the way up to Duncan’s impossible trunk, everything was encouraged.  It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.  Shawn had spent his entire life in a variety of gyms, locker rooms, and dorms, but until he’d moved into the Tower he’d never seen such an accepting crowd.  

It worked to everyone’s benefit.  If you didn’t judge someone else they weren’t likely to judge you in return.  

Cayden was a perfect example.  The diminutive, four-foot jock was by far the smallest guy on the floor, possibly in the entire building, but instead of being mocked for his lack of size, Shawn couldn’t think of a single person who didn’t like the charming little ball of hairy muscle.  He’d been captivated by his roommate from the start, and since the squeaky-voiced stud was a walking explosion of boisterous energy, it was perfectly natural that someone with such a larger-than-life personality would seem physically larger in those early memories.  

The same went for Eric.  The ginger giant was such a teddy bear that it made perfect sense for Shawn to initially perceive him as smaller than he was.  Despite his piston arms, barrel torso and tree-trunk thighs, the burly slab of beef was as gentle as they came.  He could have picked Cayden up and thrown him across the room, but whenever the tiny wrestler was bouncing on Eric’s lap, his stubby little legs straddling the ginger’s muscled gut as best they could, Eric was the picture of restraint, giving Cayden’s sizeable cheeks a pounding without breaking him in half.  

Shawn shivered and sighed at the familiar memory of Cayden’s stocky frame bouncing on his own lap, the nearing footfalls making him glad that Duncan’s impossibly large cock stayed soft.  Based on his own experience, he doubted that his massive coworker would be anywhere near as gentle as Eric.  As soon as they’d run into each other in the Tower Duncan had focused much of his attention on Shawn, and during their numerous fuck sessions, Duncan was constantly telling Shawn to give it to him harder, to the point where the smaller man could barely keep up.  And on top of the actual pounding, Duncan was always wanting Shawn to mock his appearance, to tell him how ugly and brutish he was.  

It always made Shawn uncomfortable.  Not only did he not find Duncan ugly or brutish, his natural inclination was to be the one being degraded.  On the rare occasions when Duncan would give in and spread his hole with his deliciously thick fingers, Shawn loved it when the big man, usually in front of others, called him a pretty whore, or a useless bimbo, or mocked his average cock as pitiful.  It was obvious that his larger friend was angry and taking something out on him, but Shawn was willing to put up with it.  Duncan was on a fast track at work, and if he played his cards right, he could follow in the big man’s considerable wake.  

“How’d the meeting with Benton go,” Shawn asked as Duncan lumbered around the corner, his mouth watering at the sight of the massive pecs with their nubby nipples straining against the other man’s green, lycra polo.  The towering blonde met with their boss daily, usually multiple times, and always seemed frazzled whenever he returned.  

“Same as always,” Duncan grumbled, adjusting his limp, massive bulge before settling into his oversized chair.  His black, skin-tight pants were of the same stretchy material as his shirt, a flexing of the dress code to accommodate his broad stature that left nothing to the imagination.  “Not getting enough results and not getting them fast enough.”  

Shawn rolled his eyes and gave the frustrated beast a sympathetic nod.  “What’s this project he’s had you on, anyway?”  

Duncan shook his and shrugged his mountainous shoulders.  “Need to know only...and trust me when I say you don’t want to know.”  He reached over and swallowed Shawn’s thigh in his meaty grip, giving the other man’s twitching cock a stroke through his tight chinos.  “But I’ve been talking you up, telling everyone how capable you are.  Might be some opportunities coming your way in the near future.”  

Shawn watched a growing damp spot darken the khaki fabric under Duncan’s palm, still feeling a quick stab of embarrassment at the thought of walking around with such a noticeable cum stain.  It passed quickly as always, his focus shifting to Duncan’s mention of advancement opportunities.  “Ye...yeah?” he stammered, fighting back the urge to cum as Duncan kept kneading, testing his limits.  “Looks like I owe you later.”  

“Count on it,” the big man grunted, pulling his hand away and spinning back to face his monitor.  

**********

“You heard Duncan’s report...if we still have a saboteur in our midst there’s been no sign of them.  Patrols around the facility have been tripled, and we haven’t been able to turn up any more of the boxes or further evidence of where they came from.”  Benton struggled to keep his tone calm, a difficult feat considering he was standing naked before the other managers.  It was part of his “corrective action plan,” a laying bare of his altered body to match the public exposure of his failure.  At each meeting he was forced to arrive fully clothed and made to strip in front of everyone, giving them all an unobstructed view of his rugged, perfectly-muscled frame with its uselessly limp cock and gigantic rear.  He always undressed slowly, taking the time to carefully fold and set aside each layer of clothing as if he was in his bedroom, not an executive boardroom.  To rush would be to show weakness, and to show weakness here would be the end of him.  

“Then you need to put more people on it!”  

Benton’s controlled expression never waivered as he watched Powell dart forward in his chair and slam his fist on the table.  He remembered when the ebony-skinned adonis had been as sagging and desperate to fight off old age as he had.  Though unlike himself, the well-dressed hercules, with his granite, bodybuilder frame and perfect, enigmatically youthful face, had yet to feel Upper Management’s displeasure.  “Exactly how much attention would you like me to draw to this?  Should I just send out a memo to everyone in the company with all the details of our investigation?  Duncan is…”

“Duncan seems perfectly capable,” Powell interrupted.  “With the proper guidance.  Something, I think we can all agree,” he said, motioning to the six other men and women at the table, “is lacking.”  

The slender brunette seated next to him nodded.  She had the face and body of a high fashion runway model, an air of superiority that seemed to leave her just out of reach, both physically and metaphorically.  “Powell’s right.  Upper Management is coming down hard on all our departments.  We can’t keep going like this.”  Her youthful mask cracked as she spoke, with faint wrinkles forming around her suddenly clouded eyes and streaks of grey coursing through the dark waterfall of hair trailing down her back.  When she spoke again her voice was distant and echoing, seeming to come from a much farther location than the one her body currently occupied.  “Whoever we’re looking for is masked from their sight...but they can still feel their presence.  Hiding.  Plotting.  They must be rooted out.  Now.”  She shook her head, the streaks of grey vanishing with the wrinkles as if they’d never been present.  “The flows have all leveled off, but we almost had a major disaster on our hands,” she said, her voice once again smooth and nimble.  “We’re starting to wonder if you realize how truly close we came.  All our operations, worldwide, depend on what happens here.  If this domino falls…” 

Benton waited until he was sure she was done speaking before continuing.  “Due respect, Taylor, I don’t need a lesson in our company structure.  I know exactly how important our headquarters is, and I know all too well what we house and tend here,” he said, his eyes locked with hers.  “What I need is more time.  If I rush and tip our hand, all we’ll do is drive our target deeper into hiding.  I want to find them just as much as anyone here, but more importantly, I want to find the people they’re working for.  This is our only lead...if we lose this, we leave ourselves open for another attack.”

Powell shared a quick glance with Taylor before leaning back in his chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “We appreciate that, we really do, but Upper Management feels that you could benefit from a little after hours field work to get a fresh perspective on things.”  

Benton flinched for the first time.  “Field work?  I don’t think it’s come to that, has it?”  His heart started racing as he frantically tried to think of a way to talk himself out of such a harsh punishment.  Despite its innocuous title, “field work” meant living two lives.  While he was on the clock, Benton would continue to exist as he did.  However, once his shift was over, and it would be strictly scheduled, he would become someone else entirely until his next shift started.  The message was clear: improve, or the cord is cut and you’re left in your new world.  

He’d seen it happen to others.  He still visited a certain website whenever he needed to feel better about himself to check in on a former, middle-aged manager who now spent his time in the gorgeously built, athletic body of a handsome twenty-something, crawling around in a diaper and talking like a baby.  He’d even found an unscrupulous surgeon, or so the rest of the world believed, to surgically impair his coordination and shrink his formerly impressive package to pint-sized proportions.  He’d had wealth and power beyond his wildest dreams, and now he barely made a living from men who paid to be his “daddy.”  

Instead of the superiority he usually felt, Benton paled at the thought.  He’d heard stories that were even worse, never thinking that he’d be on the receiving end of such a fate.  It took all his willpower not to throw himself on his knees and beg for mercy.  

“If that’s what Upper Management thinks is best,” he said through gritted teeth, awaiting his sentence.