Paul Baker is currently on the side of the road near a wooded area that has some lush forestry. He’s got the lid popped open and is looking at his smoking engine. Could today get any worse?

“I can fix that,” a voice behind him says.

Paul jumps at the voice and quickly turns around. It’s a small group of guys all looking at him.

“R-really?” Paul says.

“Yeah,”the guy looking at him says. He then reaches inside his shirt. Paul’s heart skips a beat as the man does exactly what he thinks he’s going to do and pulls out a gun.

Paul looks around, not a lot of people on the road. He looks back to the gang.

“We’ll just need your car, afterward, man.”

“O-okay,” Paul says putting his hands up, defensively. “Okay, you have a gun, and I’m outnumbered here. So, take, um take what you want,” he says while laughing nervously.

“Oh don’t worry,” one of the men say. “We will.”

“We want everything,” the man holding the gun says.

“Okay, okay,” Paul says. He reaches his hand in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He holds it up like some kind of parting gift and throws at the men. It lands on the ground.

“There, it’s all yours.”

They still look at Paul.

His eyes dart between the men and his watch. “Oh, of course,” Paul says and takes his gold watch off while saying, “it’ll look good on you, anyway,” and throws that to the ground. He stands up and claps his hands together while saying, “Okay, you’ve got everything.”

Paul bows a few times as he’s stepping to the side. He puts his hands in front of him while the men are following him with their eyes.

His heart practically in his throat, he says, “There, there you’ve got everything.”

He starts backing up and then bumps up against something. He looks behind him to see a larger gentleman. He’s got these wide, expressive eyes that burn into Paul.

“Everything, man,” the guy with the gun says.

Paul slowly turns to the armed man.

“But, I, I gave you everything.”

“Everything,” the guy with the gun repeats while circling his other hand forward.

He bends down a few times, awkwardly and then unties both shoes and pulls them off followed by the socks and throws them to the man holding the gun.

He stands back up.

“Umm, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“EVERYTHING, bro!” the guy says again.

Paul looks down and then points to his shirt and looks back up at the gunman.

“What the fuck don’t you understand about ‘everything’?”

Nervously, Paul lowers his hands to the bottom of his shirt. While his fingers are twiddling, he clasps his fingers and pulls, lifting the shirt up over his head as it slides up against the undershirt. The undershirt is lose around the neck, so it curls forward while exposing a part of his chest. He drops his hands and the shirt falls to the floor. Then, he starts working on his belt, popping the clasp open. His shaky fingers pull at the corner tab of his jeans, snapping the button out of place. He uses his other hand and pulls the zipper down. This is followed by him bending forward and his pants come sliding down. From behind, the guy can see his white briefs that hug his entire rear end. One foot after the other, he steps out and throws the pants to the men. He stands back up and crosses his arms, tightly over his chest while rocking from side to side.

“Everything, man!”

Paul’s eyes widen as he uncrosses his arms. Cautiously, he bunches the bottom half of his undershirt together with his fingers as it rides up his stomach. Once the entire bottom half is in full grasp, he inhales, curves his back inward, causing his chest to thrust out, and pulls the shirt up above his head. His nipples surrounded by a light dusting of hair while the hairs from his pits spring up. The undershirt glides above his arms and then that drops to the ground, too. He puts his hands over his underwear.

The gunman sighs. “Dude… EVERYTHING!”

He tilts his head to the side and makes this pleading expression with his face.

The gunman mercilessly shakes his head. “Everything.”

Paul sighs and hooks his hands into his briefs and pulls. In a matter of seconds, his ass is seen as it bounces slightly. His uncircumcised prick bobs back and forth inside the heavy patch of pubic hair.

He stands back and before he can even cover himself, the gunman says, “Hands on your head.”

Paul deeply arches his eyebrows in.

“Hands on your HEAD!”

Paul raises hands and starts to place them on his head.

After that, after Paul is standing there with nothing on, now, while his penis has no choice but to bob up and down with his mere breathing since it’s got nothing to hide behind, the armed gentleman orders the other men to start working on the car,

As they start to approach Paul’s car, the gunman says, “I want you to stay right here, man, I’m keeping an eye on you. Stay just like that.”

Paul sighs. Apparently, things can get worse.