Crack the Code, ch. 10: Pull Up To The Bumper (Patreon)

Hank knew something was off, he just couldn’t put his finger on what.  Looking at his reflection in the back room’s grimy mirror, the brawny, buzzed-headed hunk kept coming back to the sight of his furry pec cleavage beneath the coveralls’ open zipper.  He had it pulled down to mid-torso like always, but the handsome mechanic caught himself thinking over and over again that he should have had a t-shirt between the stained navy jumpsuit and his burly torso.  Hank was plenty proud of the prominent pecs and sturdy core he’d managed to maintain well into his thirties, and even now he was well aware that the exposed chestnut hair peppering the muscled mounds and trailing tantalizingly down the line of the zipper gave him an enviable air of rugged masculinity.  It just didn’t feel right.  The way his broad shoulders pulled open the coveralls left him feeling like he was on display, a sensation he wasn’t used to experiencing in his shop.

The modest garage was his kingdom.  He owned it, he called the shots, and he was the one with total control.  When a customer walked through the door, no matter how much money they had or how expensive their vehicle, Hank was the one with the knowledge.  The power.  If they didn’t need him they wouldn’t be there in the first place, and because they needed him that gave the mechanic the leverage in the relationship.  And Hank’s rugged charm, with his wide, stubble-covered jaw, pouty lips, and dreamy eyes, quickly filled in any remaining gaps, inspiring a conveniently distracting amount of desire or envy.  The end result was an interaction where the burly hunk held all the cards.  He could rip someone off while making them feel like they were getting the “special” treatment.  He could subtly create new problems while fixing old ones, giving his customers another excuse to visit the sexy stud’s shop.  Hank had been pulling the scam long enough to know how and when to tweak things, how to create a problem without making it obvious that he’d been the one to do it.  He couldn’t do it every time, and it was never anything that would cause a catastrophic failure or put someone in danger, but it was enough to ensure repeat business.

So to be staring at the exposed patch of torso while feeling like he was out of control was an unusual circumstance for the smug man.  Hank had often used his impressive physique to hook up with attractive customers over the years, he’d lost count of how many wealthy housewives he’d fucked in this very room, but those encounters had all felt intentional and planned on his part.  Now, as he grabbed the zipper and slowly tugged it down to just above his navel, he felt like things were moving in the opposite direction of what he’d intended.  Like he was going through the motions of someone else’s plan.  It was an odd thought to have in the first place, and even odder for the pragmatic mechanic.  Hank was far from imaginative under the best of circumstances, so instead of dwelling on the vague, ambiguous anxiety, he shrugged, took a deep breath, admired the way his powerful arm inflated as he rubbed his buzzed scalp, and headed back out into the shop.

Everything else seemed exactly as it should have.  Steel shelves lined the far wall, filled with various parts, fluids, and oils, while racks and rolling chests overflowed with the tools of their trade.  Air compressors peppered the floor and a small mountain of tires filled a far corner, topping off the controlled chaos that was the garage’s interior.  The Aston was still up on the lift where he’d left it, and Bobby was busy finishing an oil change and new tires for the middle-aged man sitting in the closet they called a lobby.

Hank watched his stocky young assistant heft a tire like it weighed nothing, holding it up with one hand while reaching for a pneumatic wrench with the other.  The dark-haired bruiser was nearly as wide as he was tall, built like a pile of bricks and half as smart.  He’d been a local wonder on his high school wrestling team, but even a scholarship wasn’t enough to get him into college, so for the past several years Bobby had been the older mechanic’s right-hand man.  He was exactly what Hank needed.  The twenty-two-year-old didn’t know enough about cars to catch onto Hank’s scam, and he was perfectly content to do all the menial tasks that the older man didn’t want to.  Coupled with his easy-going attitude and almost superhuman strength, Bobby was the perfect grunt to have around the shop.

But while Hank had long appreciated the younger man for his physical abilities, he’d never thought of them in the larger context, or for anything other than their utility. He’d never stopped to appreciate Bobby’s thick, wavy hair, or the way the younger man’s dimpled chin and large, protruding ears softened his otherwise intimidating appearance.  He’d never noticed the light pink hue to Bobby’s skin, or just how truly impressive the squat stud looked filling out his jumpsuit.  The younger man was on the shorter side at 5’8”, several inches below Hank’s 6’1” stature, but instead of finding the height difference amusing the way he normally did, all Hank could think about was how it accentuated Bobby’s powerful build.

“Almost got ‘er done, boss,” the younger man said when he turned and caught Hank staring.  He flashed a goofy grin and cocked his head at the older man’s odd expression.  “Everything okay?”

Hank cleared his throat and told himself he hadn’t just been mentally pulling down the zipper on Bobby’s jumpsuit.  The younger man wore a soiled, straining tank-top underneath, the scooping neck of which was just barely visible through his more modestly closed coveralls.  “Don’t get old,” Hank laughed, shaking his head.  “I don’t know if I’m coming or going this morning.”

“I mean, you’re usually cumming, right,” Bobby winked before turning back to the car.

Hank asked the younger man what he meant by that, but the question was drowned out by the sudden screech and punchy clanging of the pneumatic wrench.  By the time the bolts on the tire had been secured he’d forgotten the question altogether, his attention pulled south by the confusing throbbing in his loins.  His cock had twitched abruptly, after Bobby had turned away, thankfully, and the spasming organ made Hank aware that he lacked far more than a t-shirt beneath his coveralls.  He felt like he should have been wearing boxer-briefs, but it was clear that his strapping frame was entirely unencumbered beneath the jumpsuit.  Hank was able to confirm that for himself when he looked down and saw his exposed equipment through the open zipper, a sight that awaited anyone who stood close enough.  He felt himself blush as a punch of embarrassment pulsed through him, but instead of yanking the zipper back up his torso, Hank instead pulled it just below his navel.  The tapered opening accentuated the taper of his trim hips and barely-concealed obliques, though it was hard for Hank to feel smug when the top of his trimmed bush was scant inches away from being on display.

“You gonna go check him out?”

“What?!”  Hank started at Bobby’s question, initially misinterpreting the context before realizing that the younger man meant it in a transactional sense, not a lustful one.  Of course he wasn’t going to go check another man out like that.  He was just going to take the man’s money.  “Oh, yeah, right.  You have his keys,” he asked, trying to recover.  Hank was painfully aware of the way Bobby looked down when he stepped close and handed them over, stealing a glance at the older man’s girthy package, but he was more concerned by how much he’d wanted him to.  The scene replayed in the lobby as Hank went over the paperwork.  He knew the whole time that the other man wasn’t hearing a word he said since he was too busy looking the muscled mechanic up and down, his eyes lingering on what lurked inside the jumpsuit.  Hank felt like he should have called the man out on it, or at least been mortified, but all he did was display his usual, rugged charm.

“Looked like another satisfied customer,” Bobby said with a smirk when the older man walked back in.  He finished wiping his oil-stained hands on a rag before reaching out and tugging Hank’s zipper all the way down, letting his boss’s twitching cock and churning balls spill free without warning.

“Hey!  What’re you…” Hank started to protest, but the words dried up in his throat.  The garage seemed to spin around them for a moment, and when it stopped he couldn’t help but think that the sentence ended in a very different place than he’d expected it to.  “...doing?  You know we have to at least shut the garage doors first,” he chided.  Instead of hurriedly putting himself away, Hank casually reached out to a nearby set of buttons and pressed one, his heart racing in anticipation as the door slowly crept shut.  He then sauntered over to the window that looked into the lobby, his fat cock leading the way, and pulled down the blinds.  Instead of questioning any of it, Hank instead told himself that Anthony wasn’t scheduled to come pick up the Aston for another hour, and they’d hear the door chime if anyone came in before then.

“Sorry boss…you know I get excited,” Bobby said with a bashful grin.

Increasingly feeling like a passenger in his own body, Hank strutted over and grabbed the younger man’s zipper.  “That’s why I keep you around,” he purred, slowly pulling it down before reaching in to cup the pouch of Bobby’s twitching briefs.  He’d seen the younger man in his underwear before and knew the kind of thick monster the former jock sported, but he’d never imagined a time when he’d be feeling it for himself, let alone relishing the sensation.  “Well…one of the reasons, at least.”

Bobby’s grin went proud as he ground his bulge into the older man’s hand, his own meaty mitts reaching out to push Hank’s jumpsuit down over his broad shoulders.  He tugged it free and sent it to the floor, biting his lip as he looked the strapping stud up and down.  “I know you need a big wrench to work on a bumper like this,” he laughed, giving Hank’s exposed rear a swat and a squeeze.

The older man’s eyes went wide on impact, the sensation instantly registering as wrong.  Hank had never been one to skip leg day, and he was as proud of his ample, solid rear as he was the rest of his imposing physique, but that rear shouldn’t have been so ample.  It rippled when Bobby slapped it, and he could feel it bounce and shift as the younger man squeezed and toyed with it.  Frantically looking over his shoulder, Hank gasped at the sight of an ass that had inflated by at least a third, his stomach dropping when yet another puzzle piece fell into place.  He now realized his expanding rear had been part of what made him feel out of sorts all morning, but he’d been so focused on his exposure in front that he’d ignored the growing tension at his rear.  Thinking back, he could clearly recall how he’d felt things bounce and shake in an unaccustomed manner when he’d been walking around the garage, and how tight his jumpsuit had been growing around his hairy thighs.  But despite all that, it hadn't registered as a point of concern, and as he gawked at the expanded cakes, Hank had to force himself to think of them as anything other than normal.  Even as he felt that same tension continuing to grow, all he could focus on was how good Bobby’s calloused hands felt kneading the plump mounds.  They’d become oversized compared to the rest of his frame, though not freakishly large, but Hank began to fear that wouldn’t last as the pressure mounted.  “Big?  Don’t sell yourself short, kid.  You’re already short enough,” he laughed, running his hands along Bobby’s burly muscle-gut before slipping them into the younger man’s briefs.  He fished the squat stud’s fat, ten-inch log free, the heaping organ looking as oversized on the stocky wrestler as his own ass had become on himself.

“Least I make up for it somewhere, right,” Bobby beamed, his tone proud as Hank gave him a few tugs.  He let the older man stroke him for a few moments before spinning him around and bending him forward against a nearby tool chest, lubing himself up with a mixture of spit and pre-cum.

Hank felt like the world was moving in slow motion as Bobby draped himself against his back and slowly worked his monstrous organ inside.  The stunned stud braced himself for pain, but at the first hint of his brewing bliss he felt like a fool for having done so.  The sensation of Bobby’s throbbing girder splitting him open and burying itself to the hilt was indeed agonizing, but ecstatically so.  Hank had never felt pleasure like it, had never even dreamed it was possible.  The penetrated hunk didn’t even care about the fact that he was naked in his garage, bent over a tool chest while his dumb-jock assistant pummeled his inflating ass.  He didn’t care about the fact that he’d just exposed himself to a customer, and that he’d continued to do so.  Nor did he care about the increasing rippling and shaking he felt with each impact of Bobby’s muscled gut, the massive cheeks inflating as if the younger man’s hips were pumping air into them.

Hank tried to look back and see what was happening, but it was hard for him to pry his eyes away from the younger man.  Bobby’s once goofy, now confusingly adorable, face was a determined, lustful mask, and the whimpering mechanic hated that he hadn’t stripped the stocky stud down first.  Hank was hit with an almost desperate longing to see Bobby’s powerful pecs and flexing muscle laid bare, an urge to worship the burly bulk that now loomed over him like a compact titan.  Compared to that, the sight of his fleshy melons was an afterthought.  The rippling, pillowy mounds that had already rocketed beyond impossibly large were only a means to an end, a way to receive the mind-melting pleasure that had become a top priority.  Even his own hefty seven-inch club and heavy balls were forgotten entirely until they erupted, but instead of the smug pride his above-average endowment usually brought him, Hank resented it for betraying him and bringing his pleasure to an end.

When Bobby came a few moments later, the panting mechanic could barely remember that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.  His altered, arched-back posture felt perfectly natural, as did the awkwardly waddling steps that had replaced his confident saunter.  When Hank reluctantly pulled his coveralls back up and felt the prize-winning pumpkins that had become his ass spill free through the missing bottom panel, he had to argue with himself that it was wrong.  And even then he wasn’t convinced, as the sensation of the gravity-defying globes clapping and bouncing in the open felt as natural in the back as his open jumpsuit did in front.  He had the zipper at its earlier position just below his navel, doing the bare minimum to cover himself while essentially remaining on display.  It was how he wore all his clothes, so why should this be different?

“Thanks, boss,” Bobby said, flashing his goofy grin while he stuffed himself away.  He wiped up the mess they’d made on the floor just as the lobby door chimed to signal Anthony’s arrival.  “Got you warmed up right on time.”

Hank didn’t know what Bobby meant by the comment, but that didn’t stop him from giving the younger man a wink and a smug smirk before lumbering out into the lobby.  Anthony was one of his wealthiest clients as well as one of the better looking.  The middle-aged man was fit and trim and impeccably put together, his primped appearance always feeling out of place in the dingy garage.  He’d said he liked to support local businesses instead of taking his Aston to the dealership, but Hank knew better.  The now-bottom-heavy hunk had caught Anthony checking him out on multiple occasions and was well aware what really brought the affluent man back for more.  It was a big part of the reason he didn’t feel bad about creating more problems in the luxury vehicle.  Anthony could clearly afford it, and if Hank was going to be putting on a show for someone he wanted to get his money’s worth.  He’d “found” several problems now, and he was a little worried that Anthony was starting to catch on, but the money was worth the risk.  Now, though, that money was an afterthought as the exposed mechanic caught himself checking the other man out with the same intensity.

“Hank!  You’re looking good this morning,” Anthony said, reaching out to shake the other man’s rugged hand.

Hank felt a swell of pride when he saw Anthony’s eyes drop down into the front of his coveralls.  “Likewise,” he whistled, reaching out to give the other man’s fitted button down and striped tie a flirtatious tug.  “You’re all fancied up.”

Anthony shrugged and rolled his eyes.  “Had an early meeting.  Costly one, but it looks like it was a worthy investment.”

“Yeah?  What’d you sink the money in this time?”  Hank couldn’t keep his eyes off the other man’s tight slacks, and he was starting to piece together the meaning behind Bobby’s earlier comment about being warmed up.

“Technology.  Coding.  Well, code breaking, specifically,” Anthony said with a grin that Hank found confusingly broad.  “Company called AB Analytics.  They specialize in…custom…requests.  They do great work, though.  You two have that in common.”

Hank caught the edge to Anthony’s voice, but before he could say anything else the other man reached out and tugged his zipper down the way Bobby had earlier.  There was a momentary flash of awareness when his twitching package spilled free where the exposed stud felt like the entire encounter was wholly out of place, but it passed before he could latch onto it.  Not that he really wanted to.  Hank didn’t want to face the icy seed of dread that lingered, that told him his life had somehow been impossibly altered, not when he could focus instead on the thing that both he and Anthony desired.  “I was going to ask if you wanted to go over the work we did first, but I guess not,” he said, taking the other man by the wrist and pulling him into the garage.  He loved the way Anthony’s hands fell to his exposed melons as they walked, and he gave Bobby a quick nod before they stepped inside and he closed the door to the back room.

Anthony sighed when Hank began frantically fumbling with the front of his pants, his own fingers brushing through the sparse hair on the brawny hunk’s pecs.  “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you keep ‘finding’ so many issues?  I don’t know what me and your other lucky customers would do without someone so…skilled,” he said, his long, thin cock finally springing free.  Hank spun around in a flash, his meaty new bumper completely enveloping Anthony’s lap as he eagerly impaled himself and began writhing.  The older man just laughed and reached around to run his hands up and down the squirming stud’s torso as they fell into rhythm.  “It’d be nice if you were a better mechanic, but who am I to complain if you want us to keep coming back for more?”

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Voting Options

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Option 1: After ripping off a wealthy homeowner, a pair of burly, rugged contractors become his live-in, himbo “handymen.”  (Muscle Growth, Cock Growth, Himbo, Stripped)

Option 2: Fed up with the constant partying from the overgrown frat boys next door, a man seeks the Code Breaker’s services to turn the house into a party of another kind.  (Brothel, Stripper, Straight to Gay)

Option 3: A deliveryman who’s constantly stealing packages has his own package stolen, but he still takes his box from house-to-house.  (p2v)

Option 4: A group of homophobic football players who constantly harass people on campus find their interests taking a drastic turn as they become flamboyant, cam-boy twinks. (Muscle Theft, Shrinking, Cock Shrink)