Category: enm

My Interview With a Nude Man

November 20th, 2025

I have a series of new articles coming soon. A long while ago, I interviewed a male acquaintance who I thought was really attractive. He also agreed to be naked during the interview.

I will be keeping the source anonymous, but the articles will range from ENM (of course) to body image to a series of other topics.

I plan for the articles to be sexy, funny, insightful, thoughtful; covering the whole gambit of perspectives and human emotion, really. They’ll be bite-size articles with some researched information, but will be pieces from my perspective and viewpoint. It will be more than just talking about nudity.

I’ll be naming the source “Pilot” and the series will be called, “The Pilot Articles”.

Also, will spice things up with starting to write some ENM scenarios, again, but probably in a shorter format. Along with other viewpoint articles. Not only will I be posting more, here, soon, but I’m gonna change things up a bit. Really turn this into a blog that is both erotic, but also thought-provoking.

See you, soon.
SELVIE… IN THE BUFF

November 6th, 2023

I’ve got my headphones on, at the moment, listening to a change should do you good. I’ve been at this writing game for a while, now. And, as I’m sure many have noticed, my writing tends to go through waves. This is because, most of my life, I’ve made the mistake of comparing myself to others. While it can be empowering to use others as inspiration and even empowering to say competition can sometimes be good for you, this shouldn’t always be the case. I shouldn’t always feel like I’m waiting behind the velvet rope of the latest and hottest club in town and trying to convince the bouncer at the door I’m worth going in while slipping him a 20. I’m sure that same bouncer probably wouldn’t understand the complex and cosmic metaphor of that 20-dollar-bill being the symbol of my insecurities simply trying to mask itself in the petty representation of this paper we use to trade and barter. And let’s just say, if this were real, his bouncer friends would already be dragging me away while saying, DUDE, YOU’RE TOO FUCKIN’ WORDY!

You see, the first time I stepped away was much like the second time I stepped away. I felt like I just wasn’t getting enough of a reaction or enough likes or enough shares. That my writing wasn’t enough. And maybe, I wasn’t enough. And I found I wasn’t writing for the sheer joy of writing. I was tap-tap-tapping at the keyboard, typing up words pushed forward from this paranoia in my head, QUICK! QUICK! GET IT OUT, NOW! Or you’ll be forgotten, faded into obscurity. And people will suddenly look at me with pity saying to themselves, There goes Selvie Blue, holding up that sign: will write for 15 minutes of any kind of attention. And, while it may be good to write within boundaries and try to appeal to the general public, it shouldn’t be the only thing that drives me. It should a balance. Trying to get my work to be more relatable while still being authentic to me and to myself. And this all had me asking myself, what would my niche be? What would make me different?

Well, the answer is, I don’t want to think about it too much. Thinking too much can cause creative head-aches, to which I’ll have to metaphorically pop some metaphorical happy pills that would be a bite-sized fast-food version of a road to enlightenment. Like it should be so easy to feel like a wise, thoughtful person that can meditate so effortlessly, I’d literally be floating in the air. “Look, everyone! No strings!”

But I think that we’re all well aware that our own consciousness and thoughts can come with strings attached. This got me to thinking about other things I’ve always wanted to say, things I’ve always wanted to write about: thought-provoking pieces about the frustrating divide of male nudity versus female nudity in Hollywood, a countdown of my favorite ENM movie scenes and going into descriptions of why they’re my favorite written with pathos and humor, maybe also a countdown of my least favorite scenes of both ENM and just male nudity in general. Mainly converting into an article-based format revealing me as a person, exposing my innermost thoughts and desires, what makes me tick, what drives me, and what makes me want to keep moving forward as well as what makes me afraid. All the while, still writing ENM fiction and including that in the mix. (Including continuing my Dinner and A Show story).

I think, for me, I should be more honest with myself. Yes, I wanna see if my writing gets any reactions. Yes, I wanna know if I’m, at all, popular. Maybe if I’m honest with that part of myself, I can use those parts of me that want so desperately to be liked and recognized to shape a new person. Smooth over these characteristics and then just take a deep breath. Stop kidding myself by saying it doesn’t matter if I get recognition or not. I mean, seriously, do you really think all those actors saying, It was an honor just to be nominated, are telling the truth??? Probably a more accurate portrayal is when Samuel L. Jackson was passed over for an Oscar and you could literally see him mouth the word, shit. Or fuck or something like that. And then, I can come to the realization that it doesn’t have to be one or the other. I think that several of us here that write these stories do want to be recognized. Not saying that for everyone as I’m sure just as many do it because they want to with the only thing driving them forward is, indeed, the sheer joy of writing. But, hey, I’m sure that at some point in our lives, we all wanted attention, we all wanted to be told, you did a really good job. I also want to celebrate why we’re here, whatever your reason is. I want to prop up instead of thinking of ways of trying to race ahead while yelling, Look at me! I’m being so different and clever, you’ll never catch me! Before running, face first, into a pole and realizing I probably should have ordered that slice of humble pie while dining at that restaurant titled: This is a literal representation of you.

I want to get better at, well, everything. Basically, I still want to be me, just an improved version of me. Not changing for the wrong reasons, but rather, shedding my nervousness and intimidation and pettiness and need to compare myself to others while still retaining at least a piece of all those bad parts of me to help me on my journey to a more advanced Selvie. You see, I don’t want to think of it as being freed from chains, but instead, using these fears and insecurities as ways to go through the chains. I want to accept me as I am, both the good and the bad, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll have found at least some kind of enlightenment and I wouldn’t even have to order it from the drive-thru lane of McDonald’s to get it.

Now, at this point, you’re probably thinking, Selvie. This article is titled, ‘Selvie In The Buff.’ Please don’t tell me that that was just a symbolic title to represent the exposure of your deepest fears and desires and to relay to us the naked embrace of everything that makes you you and give your article an eye-catching, click-baity title. Either put up or shut up, man. Let’s see some skin! OW!

And to which, I’d respond, Of course it was symbolic man. Pfft. Well, that’s it for now, BYE EVERYONE!

Okay! Okay! JK, people. Geesh! While, yes, it is a symbolic title, I actually do want to use the flesh of my naked body to represent a metamorphosis. That I am stepping forward more as myself while still working on me physically, mentally, and emotionally. And while I still have insecurities about myself and my body, I also want this to be another way to say that this is just me.

Oh, and it’s a shot from the shoulders down. Sorry, not going to show myself from head to toe. Not sure if I will, but maybe someday. With that said, here is me: awkward, sometimes overthinking, energetic, weird, wonderful me:
Joel’s Revealing Punishment

June 18th, 2023

This is the last place Joel wanted to come back to. He’s already regretful enough of what happened a week ago. Just a few beers, his friends said. Don’t worry, we got you, his friends said. So is that why his “friends” got just as plastered, if not more, and ended up having to take rideshares home?

But, ya see, Joel didn’t take a rideshare. In his drunken stupor, he thought he ordered one, but the number he’d called was to an ex-roommate. And she wasn’t particularly thrilled to hear from him. At least that’s what he gathered the following morning when he got a series of angry texts from her.

He can’t really gather what happened after that. But, after the slew of recordings that were taken which was later used as evidence, he saw he’d gone to a mattress store next to the bar. When he couldn’t open the front door due to it being closed, he broke in. Apparently, he thought he was home, because when they did open back up, he was found sleeping on one of their beds.

Then, the arrest happened, then the hearing, then the most humiliating day of his life. The judge said that since he couldn’t afford to pay, he should understand what it was like to be so disruptive while being sober. That’s when the police hauled his ass back over to this store and was going to have him lay on the bed while he had his picture taken. Joel has to admit, it’s the most unusual sentencing he’s ever heard.

And currently, this is where Joel is. At a store he can’t remember being at with a window that was just repaired because he broke it.

The store owner is standing next to the bed he was caught sleeping in. He’s got his arms crossed and is really giving Joel the stare-down.

Joel nervously nods to him while trying to wave hi. The wave is more him weakly lifting up his hand. The store owner shakes his head and says, “If you try to apologize to me, I’m gonna take one of these bed posts and beat you over the head with it.” He doesn’t break eye contact with Joel. “I do request that you get those shoes and socks off. You are not getting them on my bed.”

Joel looks behind him and sees, in addition to the group of police officers, there’s a small group of employees and they’ve all got their smart phones out.

“I, ugh, I didn’t know that I’d have my picture taken by,” he looks back to all the employees. They don’t even look that enthusiastic, more like they’d rather be somewhere else, “so many … people.”

“You heard the gentleman,” one of the officers say. “Get those shoes and socks off.”

Joel looks down to his feet for a second and then back up at the officers. “Look, um, isn’t there another way?” Joel asks, looking to the owner of the mattress store, then to the officers and all these bored people holding smart phones. Some even roll their eyes. “I just really don’t wanna relive this moment,” He waves his hands in protest. “I’m sure I’ll come up with the money.”

One of the other officers rolls his eyes and then lets out this heavy, audible sigh. It’s weighed with his voice and sounds to be exhaling on this frustration.

“LOOK!” The officer that rolled his eyes yells. He then grabs hold of Joel’s shirt and clenches his fists into the fabric and pulls Joel forward with enough force that a few tears sound. Joel’s body is jerked forward and is suddenly slammed in the face with the cop’s breath.

Joel flinches and his eyes go wide as he feels like he’s staring down the two green-tinted chambers about to go off.

“The man said to get rid of the shoes and socks,” the officer gruffly whispers. Curving the edges of his words with this gravely tone. His tongue methodically moving with this intimidating precision. “We all have things to do, places to go and you’re lucky you’re not in jail, right now. So, if I were you, I’d do what he says.”

Joel nervously looks at the cop. His eyes darting back and forth looking at the officer’s pupils and, at the same time, trying to avoid them.

“Can, um, can you let me go, please?” Joel asks. The question voiced with a shaken sound that meekly crawls out of his throat.

In response, the officer arches his eyebrow and this smirk starts forming on his face. It’s a smirk that makes Joel suspicious. Because it appears to be formed out of this maniacal glee that is slowly erupting from his expression. Like he’s had it with Joel and has just come up to a decision. The officer nods his head and says, “Sure, man. I’ll let go.”

The officer puts him down and back to where he was standing while still holding onto his shirt. He’s still got his fists clenched into the collar, enough to where it’s lifting up the bottom of the buttoned-down and a shadow of Joel’s stomach is peaking through.

Then, the cop angles those fists still onto his shirt upward. The officer then takes one big inhalation and whips both his fists downward. Taking the front of Joel’s shirt with him. The material is savagely torn from Joel’s chest. The sound of ripping fabric sends a jolt through Joel’s ears.

“There,” the officer says, lifting up his hands and letting go of Joel’s torn shirt. It’s still connected and just hangs from the connecting pieces. “I’ve let go.”

Joel looks down at his bare chest then back up at the officer a few times. Each time he does, there’s this growing tension in his eyes. Compressing his pupils into paranoid pools of blue. He picks up the detached pieces of his shirt and plasters them against his chest. There’s a jagged sliver of his skin showing between the torn lines and the buttons that were popped off when the officer ripped his shirt open.

“Ummm, o-okay, I’ll, I’ll do the pic,” he says nodding his head while the rest of his body moves up and down with him.

The officers look at each other and then look back at him, slyly, while carrying this slow blink that makes their faces appear like they’ve got this malicious focus all of a sudden. The circle of uniformed men then start walking forward, closing in on him.

“Okay, di-did you hear me? I said I’d do the picture,” Joel says as a nervous laughter undercurrents his voice in an unsteady stream.

“Oh, we know,” two of the officers in front of him say.

The two look to each other and one says, “Shall we?” as if they both know what the other is talking about.

“I said I’d take the damn picture!” Joel yells.

While he’s yelling this, the officers take hold of the opened flaps of his shirt that Joel is holding against his body with one hand each and yank down on them, whipping from under his grasp. Joel flinches as he feels the heat flame against chest from the fabric being forcefully pulled from his hands. The ends flick against his shaken hands like the pointed tongue of a viper.

He looks to the men, darting his head back and forth between them as he says, “But, I said I’d take the pic.” His voice buried underneath his wavering breath, trying to swim against the tide of his frantic nerves.

The officers are holding onto the disconnected pieces, the ends still connected to the bottom of the shirt. “We heard you, man,” one cop says, doing a dead stare at him and then coldly snaps his hand back, severing the connection between it and his shirt. The shirt pops open further in response and hangs on the right the right side of his chest.

The other officer holding onto the other piece says, “You are, but,” he then whips his hand back more forcefully, taking a bigger chunk of the bottom of his shirt with it, “you’re gonna do it our way, now.”

Joel takes what’s left of his shirt and tries to pull it together, but can’t hide much of his now-revealed chest. He’s crossing his arms, hard, the hair on his stomach shining against the sunlight from the window that anyone could look into. “What, umm, what’s your way?”

“We think you know,” one of the officers say as Joel feels two hands on his shoulders. He feels the fingers clawing underneath his collar. The hands pull in opposite directions, Joel’s body forced to bob back and forth. The back of his shirt tears, strings of fabric sliding against his bare back as it slits all the way down. The officers are pulling up and then down, his shirt stretching and then viciously gashes open, his exposed skin coming into contact with the light. They just rip everything that’s left of his of his shirt off of him. The only thing Joel has left are the pieces of fabric he’s holding against his chest. But two other officers take hold of the ends between their thumb and index finger and pull upward, sliding them out from his grasping, sweaty palms.

As they’re leaving the crevices of his hold, feeling them pull up against his chest hair, Joel says, “This is illegal, y-you can’t do this.”

He sees the people holding the smart phones over the shoulders of the now very tight circle of cops. They’re not looking so bored, anymore. In fact, some of them even are even smirking and others have this cool, calm look of … intrigue??

“Sorry,” an officer behind him says as he digs his fingers the back of not only his shorts, but Joel’s anxiousness shoots up when he feels the guy’s knuckles against the top of his ass as the cop taking a firm grip of his underwear, too. “But we can do whatever we want, buddy. So, if we want you to get on the bed and pose,” the cop pulls back a little harder, the fabric of his shorts rumbling underneath the weight of the pull, “You’ll do it. And….” while still holding onto his shorts and underwear, the officer leans and whispers, “And if the owner says to take your shoes and socks off, you’ll do it. And if we want you to model for this pic while wearing, ughhh,” the officer looks down and then looks back up and whispers, “a lot less than your shoes and socks, then, well,” the officer stands back and then bends down as he puts all his body weight into his arms and yanks on the back of his shorts and underwear hard. Joel gasps as he instinctively clasps his hands on the front of his shorts as the entire back of his shorts and underwear come flying off. Joel feels the air suddenly expand from his back down to his ass and the back of his legs. His legs waver back and forth as his butt bounces while rebounding from the back of everything he had on being torn from his body. Holding the torn-off pieces of clothing Joel had on like he’s holding a badge of honor, as if he’s proud of what he’s just done, he says, “You’ll do it.”

Joel is holding onto the front of his shorts as strong as he can. The shorts are now just this loose flap of cloth that are hanging in front of him. The tattered edges extending into the stringy remains of what is left. He’s got his body hunched over while laying one hand in front of the other, his head bowed while his entire backside is showing.

“Well, he may be a fuck up,” one of the officers say, “but one thing’s for sure. He’s got a nice ass,” the cop says while slapping his left butt cheek. Joel’s body jumps up while his firm butt bounces underneath the officer’s slapping hand.

He hears the officer’s laugh at that response. But then hears other voices join in. And he can swear that he hears the voice of the mattress store owner. The laughter is subtle, but tumbles towards his ears in the jagged resonance of sharp little bullets.

One of the other officers looks at Joel up and down and then raises his eyebrows a few times. Joel can’t help but notice this when he moves his eyes up to the officer as his mouth slightly gapes open. This can’t be happening to him.

“Bet he’s got a nice everything,” the officer says and cruelly laughs at the end of that statement.

“Only one way to find out,” Joel hears the one person say he hopes wouldn’t say it, the mattress store owner.

“Guys,” Joel says, putting one hand up defensively holding onto his torn-and-tattered shorts. While he’s doing this, the officers start laughing while picking up what remains of the material. Joel slams his other hand down on the shorts saying, “Gu-guys, please.”

The officers pull harder, slowly lifting up the shorts from Joel’s body. The hair on his stomach slowly and steadily extending into his pubic hair. “C’mon, guys. Please!”

He then feels hands on his arms, lifting them up, forcing his hands not only off of his torn shorts, but also off his body being quickly exposed. “GUYS, PLEASE!”

They’re prying his fingers off the cloth as others are trying to snatch them out of his grasp. The bottom of his penis is starting to show, the head swaying underneath the flap of torn fabric going from vertical to horizontal.

“PLEASE!” he pleads as the shorts are whipped out of his hands and as his arms and hands are pulled to his sides, giving him no choice but his penis to be fully exposed, now. His chest with hair creating a shadow around his nipples are having this slight bounce as he’s struggling. His stomach is tumbling underneath the patch of dark hair that everyone can now see merges into a heavy bush of pubic hair. His medium-sized dick flops in different directions as the exacted shape of his head moves in the blush of pinkish red. His testicles, also covered in hair, sways with his dick. As he struggles, the officers untie his shoes and then pull both his shoes and socks off.

The drag him to the bed, holding his legs and arms, his butt firmly bouncing as his penis sways upward. He’s yelling in protest as they throw him on the bed.

“I’ll just have the sheets cleaned,” the owner says, “This is better.”

Joel is out of breath and panicky as he covers up his dick. His bush peaking through his clasping hands.

“Sir, we need your hands off,” one of the officers say.

“C’mon,” Joel heavily whispers.

“You wanna another night in jail.”

He sighs while feeling mortified.

“And smile,” the officers say.

Joel lifts up his hands then pulls his fingers away from each other, laying one hand closer to his dick while the other lays near his waist. He then plasters a nervous smile on his face. His mouth and eyes expand into this wavering edge of uncertainty.

“Let’s have him stay like this for the day,” the owner says. “I think we could drum up more business with some, ugh, exposure.” He stifles a laugh.

He looks to the officer for reassurance. To his horror, one of them says, “You heard the man.” Fuck. This really is the most humiliating day of Joel’s life.
JAY’S WARDROBE MALFUNCTION

June 11th, 2023

This is a story I wrote a while ago (one of my first ENM stories). I had it on my NewTumbl blog, but then NewTumbl was taken down. It is currently on my Tumblr, but thought I’d re-post it here. There’s no pic that comes with this one, just my words. It’s also a bit longer than my usual stuff, because with this one, I go into a lot of detail into how the guy is stripped. Hope you like it.

Jay Dandridge looks like he belongs on the news reporting the weather or in a toothpaste ad. He has a full head of silver hair that perfectly smooths over into a distinguished swoop. Slight wrinkles in his face, just enough to where they crinkle in all the right places, giving him this suave, debonair look of a perfectly clean-cut guy that time has been very kind to. His eyebrows painted into delicately rugged angles over-top pupils in the middle of pools of blue-gray. Like an evening lake reflecting star light. He has broad shoulders and a tight physique made of lean muscle. His entire body is perfectly molded. Which is no surprise as he keeps in shape by running and, of course, going to the gym. He’s just a nice-lookin’ guy that you can see saying, “Back to you, Bob.” And, yes, perfectly white teeth, along with a softly baritone voice that was made for radio.

He always has thoughts like this in the back of his mind to feel confident. Of course, he has plenty of things to express that: his accomplishments, his job, his income, his possessions, his take-no-bull-shit attitude, his knowledge, he could go on. But his physical self is a good glue to have all his other qualities in place inside his mind. It’s his sanctuary. And confidence is something you need today with what’s going on. Ever since they were discovered and came out of the woodwork.

There’s been the debate over whether they’re criminals or unjustly accused souls with only good intentions. But there’s a reason why they say that’s what paves the way to hell. People are flawed, and no one is completely good. With that said, even though he knows no one can be right all the time, he’s pretty sure he usually is. He is a well-educated man. And no one can take that away from him.

Some of them are, indeed, criminals. A few tried to break into his house. Of course, they had an advantage over him, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Voodoo dolls are so old-fashioned and are as guaranteed as pulling out not causing any STDs.

The Extra Human Police Force stopped them. They have some abilities, too. It was first called Extra Terrestrial police force. But people thought that was too insensitive, so they changed that to Extracted Human. You can imagine how well that went over. So they compromised on Extra Human.

All this flashes through his mind as he sees the “Absolutely No Magic” sign on the front door of the café while walking through it.

And of course, there’s a fucking line. He knew he should’ve ordered online this morning. Thank goodness for the front-line card. It was a gift from his nephew that knew he liked this place. His brother said he didn’t even deserve that, but that’s another story.

Jay takes the card out of his wallet and then walks right up to the front of the line, completely cutting off the woman that was about to step forward. While both the woman and the baristo behind the cash register share a look of shock, he places the card down and says, “An iced macchiato. And make it quick, I’m in a hurry.”

With this fuck-you face, the baristo says, “Sir, those cards are not good this weekend. Not with the event in town.”

“Fine,” Jay says, shrugging. “I guess you don’t care about having this job.”

The baristo arches his eyebrow.

“Look . . . Justin,” Jay says, looking down at his nametag and looking back up at him, “I know your boss. Him and I are not only good friends, but we’ve made plenty of deals together. And before,” Jay puts his hand up, “before you say that he realizes this, but can’t make any exceptions, know this. I have plenty of connections. Even professors. I’m sure you’re a student. Don’t make me make your scholastic experience hell. I can do that.”

“Jesus!” the woman he cut off says. “Take his order. Then we’ll be rid of this asshole.”

Jay doesn’t respond or even look at the woman, but just keeps looking at the baristo. This is a negotiation. Granted, not with anyone terribly important, but a negotiation none the less and doesn’t concern anyone else.

The baristo rolls his eyes and takes the card and looks back and yells out the order and then looks back at Jay.

“Thank you,” Jay says, not caring that Justin, the baristo, hasn’t said anything like that in return.

He walks over to one of the tables while looking at his phone.

After waiting five minutes, he’s about to make some heads roll. But then, he hears those magical words, “Iced macchiato for Jay!”

He walks up snatches the macchiato up and wants to say it should’ve been faster. But now, there’s not enough time. He turns around and that woman is right behind him. The macchiato pops open and spills all over her blouse. She gasps and looks down at her top.

“Now look what you did!” Jay says, “I’m going to have to get another one, now!”

“I have an interview in a half hour, you dick head! And I don’t have enough time to go home and change! The least you could say is sorry!”

“Okay,” Jay says. “Sorry you decided wear that to an interview. I did you a favor, sweetie.”

“You corporate prick! You can’t keep taking advantage of everyone just because you can. Money can’t buy you everything.”

“What are you___”

He’s cut off when she sees her take out a wax voodoo doll.

“Those are you illegal. Didn’t you see the sign?” Jay says, pointing to the “Absolutely No Magic” sign.

She looks around while wearing this knowing expression.

He sees someone from the Extra Human Police force sitting at a table drinking some kind of iced thing.

He steps to the side and says, “Aren’t you gonna do any…thing,” he voice trails off when he feels the floor under his feet. He looks down and sees that he his shoes and socks are gone. “That is using magic! You can’t do that!” Jay says and is about to tell her but can’t move. He can’t move.

“Hey, man, you need to do something!”

“What, me?” The officer says. “I’m just enjoying my latte. As far as I’m concerned, this has nothing to do with me.”

“You are going to get sooo fired.’

The officer takes a long drink of his latte and follows it by exhaling, sweetly. He looks back up to Jay and says, “You’re not the only one with connections . . . sir.”

A spot of fear specks at the base of his stomach. His briefcase flies out of his hand. He breathes a little more deeply.

“Now, as you know,” the woman says, “these figures can take possession of anyone. You don’t need to dress it, you don’t have to give it any accessories. It’s very, very convenient.”

He looks all around him. “Isn’t anyone going to stop this? What she’s doing is illegal! You’re going to jail! Don’t you care!?”

“Somehow, I think this morning is an exception.” She pauses, and then says, “And speaking of dressing, that suit. That is a very nice suit you have. Some might say you don’t deserve to wear it,” the woman says as Jay feels a tugging on his blazer. He looks down. The center 2 buttons are pulling forward. He feels relieved when he can move. But is immediately on edge again when he feels he can only move so far. He can’t pick up his feet or walk. His arms have limited movement. They can’t move forward to the back or to the front of him.

He feels confused as the buttons on his blazer are continuing to pull forward and they’re twisting and turning on their own.

“You’re ruining it!” Jay yells. “Someone stop this immediately!” He says looking around.

He’s actually standing in front of the display window where people are outside, and some have started looking in. No one is doing a God-damned thing.

Jay begins to hear the threading of his suit start to tear. Then a quick jolt shudders throughout his suit as it pops open a little more, showing his shirt underneath. He looks down and sees one of the buttons are now gone. He hears the tapping on the ground, finding a place to land. Then the other button flies off.

“Oh, no,” the woman says. “Your beautiful blazer. You should get that fixed. Guess you won’t be needing it right now.”

“You fucking bitch! You need to stop this, now…”

His voice trails off as he sees his blazer opening itself up and sliding off each shoulder. His arms tug as it pulls off his arms and the fabric of his sleeves slide away from his hands. He doesn’t hear it fall to the floor, though.

“Okay, c’mon, this is childish. How far are you gonna let this go, man!?” he asks the officer still enjoying his iced drink.

He shrugs his shoulders and smirks and says, “Guess I’ll be needing to call for back up.”

Relief settles through his stomach. As he begins to feel his tie twist and loosen around his neck, the officer says, “In about thirty minutes or so,” the officer then nods at him and continues, “against you.”

“Me, wha-what did I do!?” he asks as the knot loosens.

“Yep,” the officer nods his head a few more times.

The tie pulls itself out from the knot and continues to untwist until it falls on his shirt now completely untied. As it pulls itself through his collar, Jay feels his stomach starting to twist.

“Sooner, or later, dude, you’re gonna be guilty of indecent exposure.”

He widens his eyes as the tie falls away and he looks at it literally fade away.

“You,” he says laughing in a tone of disbelief. “You, you can’t be serious dude. We’re in a public place. Seriously, how far . . .. are . . .. you . . .. going to let this go?” his voice trails away again as he sees the cop point at his sleeves.

Just as he looks down, Jay’s sleeves pop open at the same time as the buttons are plucked from them. He hears the buttons fall.

“No, no, no, no, no!”

“Oh, c’mon, do you really think I would’ve let it get that far. I just wanted to scare you.”

He sighs of relief and is about to walk away but can’t.

He can feel his insides getting tense again.

“I thought you said you were just trying to scare me!”

“I am,” he hears the woman say. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The button on his collar pops off.

“I’m just going to…”

A few more buttons pop off his shirt, widening open further, exposing his white tank top underneath. Some of his dark chest hair can now be seen above it and the fabric clinging to his toned chest.

“I’m just giving you…”

More buttons pop off as his shirt opens wider, exposing more of his white tank top on his flat stomach.

“Less to worry about…”

More buttons pop off as he hears them skipping on the ground and finding a place to land.

“On your wardrobe choices.”

His shirt untucks itself from his slacks and last buttons fly off and now his shirt is completely open. Exposing his undershirt and now his shirt is sliding off his shoulders, showing the thick straps of his undershirt on his broad shoulders. The shirt then falls away from his arms like a breeze, showing the slight ripples of his veins striking through the lean muscle of his arms like lightening.

“This is not happening. I know people!” he says to the woman.

He wishes now that he knew some practices. But, unfortunately, Jay was not born with the ability. Which you must be in order to have this deficiency. And that’s just what Jay pictures it as. A deficiency.

“Isn’t anyone going to do anything!?” he asks, looking around the café.

There is not a single person that responds and some even have sly smiles hiding in the smug corners of their moths. Mother fuckers.

He then feels his white undershirt beginning to stretch against his chest. The fabric presses against him, clinging tighter into him, the shape of his nipples protruding from the white fabric. He feels his heart beating faster as his undershirt is stretching more and more, getting tighter, pulling further, harder, until . . .. RIIIIIIP!!

A long line tears straight through the middle of his shirt. The hair on his chest is peaking through and it can be seen going down in a trail to his toned stomach. Jay widens his eyes, “C‘MO___”

Jay’s interrupted by his undershirt ripping the rest of the way down and then peels open, completely exposing his abdomen. His chest is shaped into two solid pectorals with swirls of dark hair going around his nipples like a field of grass. His stomach is perfectly flat with the hair getting darker and heavier to his belly button.

Without warning the straps of his undershirt rip apart, quickly unfurling from his broad shoulders and then falls away from him. He’s now shirtless.

“Okay, ummm, I know I was a jerk.”

He hears a few scoffs.

“Okay, an asshole. But if you let me go, I’ll buy you a new wardrobe!”

He hears silence. “I’ve got plenty of clothes,” the woman says. He hears a chuckle, followed by her saying, “A problem you won’t have to worry about soon.”

He sighs. He can hear his heart throbbing in his throat.

“Wait,” he hears the officer say.

Thank God, he thinks to himself and rolls up his eyes as he exalts a powerful relief.

“Just so you know, dude,” the cop says, looking right at Jay, “I’m not a real cop.”

Jay arches his eyebrow in confusion as he widens his eyes. His heart starts beating heavy again. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“This is a fake costume. Looks close to the real thing, right?” he smirks and winks. “I’m sure you’re thinking of reporting me, but it’s not illegal. If you take a look at the logo on my shirt, you’d know.”

Jay look at the logo, and now, he can plainly see that it’s not the logo, at all. Plus it says, “Xtra Po Po Force.” He should’ve known. And he’s right, it’s not illegal. But that means he can still report this bitch.

“But, ugh, that baristo you insulted?” he asked.

“He’s the brother of someone from the police force,” the woman says, carrying a knowing laugh.

He looks to the baristo who raises his eyebrows playfully.

Fuck. That’s not good. Those police force fuckers have a way turning the other cheek, especially if you piss one of them off. And Jay has personal experience with that. Even his connections can’t always work.

“And,” the fake cop says, as he’s picking up a tote bag and taking out…

Jay’s eyes widen again, and he realizes, he’s so fucked.

He takes out a fucking voodoo doll.

He holds doll up to Jay and then juts his hand towards himself.

A patch rips away from the right leg of his pants, his tanned skin showing. His heart jumps when that happens.

“I,” the cop says, jutting his and again, causing another patch to rip away from the back leg of his pants. Jay feels the fabric pull and then sway forward in the way men’s slacks do when walking fast. There’s not a lot of movement as his pants are comfortably snug.

“Want . . . to . . . try,” the fake cop says, jutting his hand forward on each word, causing another patch to rip away from his pants each time he speaks.

That sound. That quick, savage sound that pounces in through the air. More and more of his legs are showing as each patch tears away.

The fake cop then points his index finger to the right leg of the voodoo doll and moves it up.

Jay juts his head down when he sees and hears the right leg of his pants ripping open. A slit is moving all the way up his leg and ends just below his underwear. Much of his pants remain, just with a line torn on the right leg.

“Okay,” the baristo behind the counter says. “We should give him a break.”

Jay sighs a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he says.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the baristo says. “I was talking to our fake cop friend over there. We’ve got another guest coming in,” he says, motioning his head forward.

Jay looks to the door of the café and sees an actual cop walking through it.

Jay smirks and says, “Y’all are fucked now!”

“Hey, Justin,” the cop says to the baristo. “Your brother told me there was some trouble here.”

“He did?” Justin says.

Jay still can’t completely move.

“Yeah,” the cop says, looking to the shirtless Jay with the ripped pants.

“He said there was some naked man exposing himself to everyone at the café.”

“Huh, really?” Justin says, caring this playful look and directing his eyes to Jay. And Jay doesn’t like the look on this smug guy’s face.

“Naked!?” Jay says. “Officer,” he says, nervously laughing, “as you can see, no one’s naked. These people have been taking pieces of my clothing off using magic!” he yells. “Thank God you’re here.”

The officer squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders and pulls out a report. “Well, I’ve already got the report filled and, ugh,” he points to a part of the paper and shows it to the baristo as Jay looks nervously onward. “I mean, Justin, does, ugh, well, that says naked, right?’

“It sure does,” Justin says.

“Well, I mean, I’d have to fill out another report and it’s just a lot of red tape. I wouldn’t want to have to make more work for myself by having to do another report over again with you being partially dressed. It clearly says naked here, sir, soooo…”

“You’ve never heard of white out!?” Jay asks, his voice cracking. “What you are doing is illegal. I could have your job!”

“Well, as my friend over there said,” he points to the fake cop, “he does have connections.”

Jay looks to the fake cop who’s looking more smug.

“And, ugh, if my report here says naked, we just can’t have you walking out of here like that,” he says pointing to what remains of his pants.

Jay looks down and slowly looks back up at him. “Oh, c’mon! Are you seriously going to do this!? This is against the law, you know that right? You just can’t strip me here in the middle of a café! You’re a cop!”

“You’re right,” the officer says, pointing to him. “I can’t. But, ugh, well,” he walks over to a random patron who has his back turned towards Jay. “I’m sure this gentleman would be kind enough to help, wouldn’t you?”

The guy gets up and then turns around. Jay’s eyes widen as he takes a gulp of air. It’s Mark Yolster. And Jay got him fired three years ago. They were working on a project together and he knew it wouldn’t look good if everyone found out that Mark did most of the work, so Jay made it look like he did most of the work and Mark was wasting company time and money at a strip bar. All it took was for him to tell Mark that there was a birthday party for him and to record him there while on his phone. He took Mark’s wallet and swapped his cash with funds from the company. And he explained himself being there by saying he was just a supporting friend and, of course, he had no idea that Mark was using company funds for this.

“Hey, Jay,” Mark says, waving his hand.

“Mark, um, ho-how’s it goin’ . . . man?”

“Well, I should really thank you for getting me fired. I started my own company and now we’re a great success.”

“That-that’s great,” Jay says, relieved. “So I’m sure you feel like I did you a favor and aren’t carrying any grudges, right? You’ve, ugh, you’ve moved on.” Jay looks for any kind of agreement in Mark’s face, but it’s blank. “Right?”

“You’re right,” Mark says, which makes Jay relieved.

“Although, I have to admit, me getting fired for being at a strip club and you getting stripped bare-ass naked in the middle of a café would be kind of poetic, right?” Mark says.

“You, you said it yourself, Mark. You moved on. Besides, you don’t even have any kind of abilities.”

“Well, you see, Jay, I never really told anyone,” Mark says, walking towards the window, “but, I do actually have certain . . . abilities.”

As Mark is saying this, Jay looks down at his right pant leg. It’s not ripping, but it is getting cut open as if by a pair of invisible scissors. It’s going around his leg, slowly, starting at where the original slit ended, causing the fabric to fall a little more away from his leg, revealing more of his leg and the tanned skin with the little hairs going all the way down the lean, muscular calf.

“And as you might have already guessed,” Mark says, as Jay’s pant leg continues to cleanly cut itself open all the way around his leg until it is removed and falls off, making the right side of his pants now look more like a pair of short shorts. Mark looks to Jay as Jay looks back to him. “I don’t need a doll. Mine are more, well, advanced. Didn’t even know I had them until you got my ass fired. I swore I’d get revenge on you, but, you’re right, I moved on.” Mark stops and just looks at Jay in this content expression of victory. He tilts his head and says, “doesn’t mean a little humiliation would be a nice bonus, though” Mark says.

Jay starts breathing a little more heavy as his heart is practically leaping out of his bare chest.

“C’mon, Mark, I’m sorry,” Jay says. “I’m truly sorry to everyone.”

“I’m sure this experience will humble you,” Mark says. “Nothing more humbling than paying homage to the emperor with no clothes, right?” Mark says, smirking.

Another patch is ripped away from his left pant leg now. And then another, followed by another. Each time this happens, Jay’s heart jumps. His pant leg his swaying slightly as more of his left leg is exposed. And then it stops. Jay is standing there with half of his pants and the other half ripped in several places.

“But this is getting rather tiring, isn’t it?” Mark asks looking to the officer, and then to the woman who he spilled his drink on.

“Yeah,” the cop says.

The woman nods in agreement.

Jay isn’t sure whether he should be relieved or not. Until he can find that he can move again.

“Just get outta here, Jay,” Mark says.

Jay nods quickly and high tails it outta there. He doesn’t get his brief case of anything. He’s just thankful that he’s got what he has left on.

He races outside the doors and is walking towards his car.

When he reaches for his keys, his heart jumps again when he sees what he can’t possibly be seeing.

The belt he has on is beginning to uncurl and pulling itself out of its buckle. Jay goes to stop it but when he does, he finds he can’t move his hands anywhere near his crotch. They stop before they even reach his waist. He keeps moving his hands up and down but can’t get them close to that area at all.

While he’s doing this, the belt unbuckles itself and pulls open. He goes to his car but finds he can’t move towards it. This can’t be happening. He then feels the button on his pants beginning to pull. It twists to either end until it pops off, opening the top his pants a little further, revealing the top his underwear.

He’s noticing people beginning to look and even start laughing. Some are recording on their phone.

He turns around and looks to the café to see Mark and many of the other patrons look back at him. Many of them are carrying smug smiles.

He swallows hard as he begins to feel his pants opening further. He looks down and sees the teeth of his zipper are not only unzipping, but are getting pried apart, destroying the zipper and as it goes down, more of his underwear is exposed and he can’t even cover himself.

“Someone do something!” Jay says. “Someone call the police!”

When his zipper is pried all the way open, he can feel his pants stretching further. The fabric is forming stressed creases as they’re pressed harder against his skin. He goes to turn around, to face his car, but he can’t move again. And this time, he can’t even move even in the slightest. He can still breathe, but everything else is completely still. And he’s facing forward in front of everyone.

Then, the crotch in his pants begin to tear, splitting open. And then, in one swoop, his pants just go flying off. Completely revealing his underwear which are a pair of jockey shorts. He then begins to feel those move down. He quickly looks down and sees that they’re moving down, but then stop. The top of his ass is exposed. Wisps of his dark pubic hair are seen above the line of his jockeys. Then, a patch is ripped away from the back of his underwear, causing his firm butt to bounce as the skin is exposed. And then a patch is ripped off from his right side. Then he can feel the entire part covering his ass is ripped away, showing how his cheeks are firmly rounded with the fabric circling them. Jay’s heart beats faster.

What happens next causes his nerves to jump. The back of his jockeys rip completely open and the fabric going around his legs tear open as well until the fabric of his boxer briefs are completely removed from his back side and should be falling off. However, his underwear is staying attached to him, as they hang loosely from him.

He can move again and the first thing he does is try to cover his crotch, but he can’t move his hands close to it. And when he goes to turn around, it’s like his feet are superglued to the ground. This isn’t good.

Then, most of the remaining fabric of his underwear is ripped away. Leaving only a piece of fabric clinging to his dick. Covering just that part of his body.

He looks around at all these people looking at him. And the only people using their phone are the ones recording him.

A piece of fabric is then ripped away from a good chunk of the remaining fabric that is his underwear, completely revealing the bush of pubic hair he has above his penis. The trail of hair underneath his belly button gets darker until it merges with the thick patch of pubic hair he has now unfurling just above the now even smaller patch of fabric left clinging to the only thing keeping him from being stark naked in public.

He looks up to Mark and Jay desperately moves his head back and forth giving Mark this pleading look.

Mark makes a comical frownie face as he shrugs his shoulders.

The remaining patch of underwear moves down slightly, giving a very teasing reveal of the base of his dick. And he can’t do anything to cover it up.

It moves down just a little further, showing more of the fleshy, veiny cylinder shape of his manhood. It then stops and moves back up, covering the basic of his dick back up.

Jay sighs a sigh of relief. He hopes it’s over now.

Then, without warning, that remaining flap of fabric goes flying off, causing his cock to dangle rippling into the meaty set of balls he has. His uncircumcised dick hangs from his thick patch of pubic hair. The skin on the tip of his penis covers the helmet, but everything is on full display, now. His arms in rivulets of skin, his legs that are shaped like thin boulders, his chest with the nipples amassed underneath rivulets of chest hair, his perfectly round ass, and, of course, his penis with the veins becoming more prevalent as his blood rushes in embarrassment and his balls hanging behind his cock like two fleshy marbles.

This is when he notices the veins on his dick beginning to become more defined. He breathes harder as he sees the skin of his penis is getting more solid and even extending as the tip of his dick is starting to lift upward. This can’t be happening.

He looks up to Mark who arches an eyebrow at him. Crap, not only have these people stripped him completely naked, now, they’re going to get him hard?

He looks down and sees the tip swelling and lifting up further. It grows and extends until it’s pointing forward, hard and throbbing. It’s humiliating how his penis is jumping up and down as it’s fully erect, as if he’s turned on. But he is most certainly not.

He sees parents guarding their children’s eyes as they take off from the scene. He’s feeling this sensation rushing to his dick. One he’s felt several times before. It keeps throbbing up and down, pumping this rhythm into his penis. This is terrible for him to be happening in public. He has no choice but to keep his hands at his sides and showing everyone how his manhood is beginning to throb more. Bouncing up and down. He feels this hot rush of blood running to the very center of him. Pushing through his stomach and then his abdomen and then to his penis trying to escape. Which he really doesn’t want to happen. But it keeps moving forward. This tingling begins to happen in his dick until it grows into this fire that can no longer contain itself. He’s gonna, he’s gonna….

Then his dick shoots up as the slit on the head of his penis screams, projecting a white load of semen from it. It bounces more vigorously as thick rivulets of white cum flows out of him and splattering on the ground. He gapes his mouth open as his body convulses, tapping into the pulse of his dick seizuring from the pounding affects of his orgasm in public.

And as he slowly gains control of himself again, two police officers come up to him as his dick is deflating while it continues to throb from the last remaining streams of cum dripping from it. He tries to cover himself, but still finds he can’t.

“Got a report that a guy was jacking off in public, sir,” one officer said.

“You’re under arrest,” the other said as he puts Jay’s hand behind his back and cuffs him.

“Hey! It’s not my fault! You’ve got magics in that café! They did this to me!”

“Sure they did, sir,” one of the officers say.

His still leaking dick swings back and forth as his balls sway in the breeze while he’s being carted off to the cop car.

“At least cover me up, somehow!” Jay says as his butt cheeks can clearly be seen bouncing firmly and his dick continues to sway.

“Since you’re so keen on giving everyone a free show, don’t see why you’d want to cover up, now.”

He groans out of embarrassment as he gets put in the cop car, looking at the patrons and Mark looking so fucking smug.
Porch Pirate Exposed

June 6th, 2023

Elliot walks as quietly as possible up the stairs. He even glides his hand on the metal banister softly. He looks to the parking lot behind him and makes sure that there’s no one there. It’s the middle of the work day, and this complex is usually pretty empty. He’s been by here several times.

He turns back to face the stairs. Almost there. He nearly tip toes up the last few steps. The package that was delivered is right at the front door. Now, he’s gotta be as quick and efficient as possible. He’s got his hoodie up and makes sure he’s only letting a sliver of his face show beneath it’s shadow. Without making a second thought, he casually walks up to the door, but with a brisk pace. He kneels down and is about two pick up the package.

Then, doors open. Several doors. He immediately gets up as a small jolt runs through his system. He doesn’t put his hands in his pockets, just walks forward, acting as normal as he can. He’s got his head down and not looking around him. He’s about to make it to the other side of this floor when someone steps in his way.

Elliot looks up and sees a guy looking directly back at him. He nods and smiles with a genuine “how-are-you” kind of expression.

“Going somewhere?” the gentleman asks, arching his eyebrow and while holding a glint in his eyes.

Elliot nods again and turns around. He’s stopped by a group of other men all standing in his way. All the doors to their apartments open.

“Gentleman,” he says, nodding his head. He attempts to continue walking forward when one of them puts their hand on his chest.

“Okay, ugh, now I, ugh, I don’t want any trouble,” Elliot says, putting his hands up defensively.

“Three times,” he hears someone behind him say.

He turns around to face whoever said that. “Excuse me?”

“Three times, “ another one of the men say beside him.

“Three times you’ve been here,” the guy who he was about to take the package from says. “You probably didn’t realize we installed a camera system.”

Elliot puts his hands up, again. “Okay, look, I’m, um, I’m sorry.”

“We’re not gonna call the police,” another one of the guys say.

Elliot has a sigh of relief.

“But we wanna make sure you remember….”

“Not to do this to anyone else,” another one of the guys continues.

“Take your hoodie down,” one of the other guys demands.

Elliot moves his hands up to his head. He stops a few times, unsure if he should. But ultimately slides it off his head. His dark, brown hair springing forward as the material of the hoodie slips past it. When the light hits his face, a smooth, white face comes into view, made softly masculine with the malleable edge of his jawline.

“Okay,” the guy who he was going to steal the package from says, walking up to him with this menacing swagger. Elliot backs away a little, terrified that he’s about to get beat down. “So, there’s something I want you to realize,” the guy says, still walking up to him with methodical steps, “you’re outnumbered by a group of guys all made witness to you attempting to break the law. Which means, you don’t have a leg to stand on.” The guy stops right up to Elliot. His face directly close with only a sliver of space between them. “You get me?” the guy says.

A swallow of air suddenly envelops up through Elliot’s throat. He nods his head yes.

The guy only keeps staring him down. His eyes made sharp and pointed, focusing all their attention on Elliot. Then, the silence is interrupted when the guy says, “Strip.”

Elliot looks around to all the menacing stares and smiles nervously.

“Excuse me?” he says with a lilt in his voice.

“You heard him,” one of the other guys say. “Get those clothes off…. unless you want us to take ’em off for you.”

Elliot looks down while shuffling his right foot. He then crosses his arms as he moves them down. Grabbing hold of the bottom of his hoodie, he pulls up. It slides up the red shirt. He stretches the front of his body outward while lifting his head up. The draw strings tap against his cheeks as he moves the hoodie away from his face. He moves his arms back down and lets the hoodie drop to the floor. The red shirt Elliot’s got underneath clings tight to his physique. He crosses his arms in the same fashion and starts crawling his fingers upward, pulling the material of his red shirt underneath them. At first a sliver of his milky white, toned stomach shows. It extends up to his naval and then his upper chest. He pulls up and quickly, his nipples show atop his hairless chest. Once he has the red shirt off, he drops that to the floor too. Elliot sighs with a shudder in his voice as he reaches for the belt and begins to unbuckle it. While he’s doing that, he digs at the heel of one loafer and pulls it off his foot. Then the other. He’s already got the belt undone and his pants unbuttoned once he’s got his loafers off, revealing white socks. He pulls up the head of his zipper and then glides it down. The jagged sound of his pants splitting open trembles into his lower abdomen as a small fragment of his white briefs show. Elliot hooks his thumbs into his pants and just pushes down once and the pants fall halfway down, fully exposing white boxer briefs.

At this point, one of the guys whistle and the others laugh. This makes Elliot blush a little and feel even more exposed. He steps out of the pants and lets them fall to the floor while standing back up.

The main guy points down and says, “Socks.”

Keeping eye contact with him while holding his perturbed expression, Elliot slides his socks off.

He, again, stands back up.

The main guy arches his eyebrow and then says, “Sorry, man. We really want you to remember, this, so those are gonna have to come off, too.” He points right at Elliot’s briefs.

Elliot gapes his mouth open and says, “C’mon guys, I’ve learned my lesson, truly.”

“Take ’em off, dude,” another guys. “We’re not opposed to taking another guy’s underwear off by force.”

Elliot puts one hand in front of his crotch area and with the other hand, digs his thumb into the waistband of his briefs. They come down sideways, showing half of his ass and even beneath his covering hand, his thick bush can still be seen unfurling and springing right up. He exchanges hands and, while still covering the front of him, he digs into the other side and bends down. His firm, bare ass rising up in the air. The tip of his head dangles underneath his fingertips as he steps out of his last layer of clothing.

He stands back up and uses both hands to cover himself.

The main guy steps back and holds his hand out to a patio chair next to his front door.

“Have a seat,” he says.

Elliot looks around at all the guys looking at him and his now bare body. He holds his head down while firmly holding his hands up to his cock. He turns around and sits down. He’s rigid in how he sits, not even laying his back against the back of the patio chair.

He notices the guys all looking at each other and he doesn’t like the kinds of expressions they’re exchanging. As if the main guy knows exactly what they’re all thinking, he looks back to Elliot, holding this really smug expression.

“Listen, dude. We want to make sure you don’t do this again. So, here’s what we’re gonna have you do. One of us is gonna be standing guard, so don’t think of trying anything. Nod if you understand.”

Elliot nods.

“Good, okay. You’re gonna be our little greeter, today. But, we need you to be more comfortable than that.”

Elliot turns his head to the side while eyeing the main guy suspiciously. “What do you mean by… comfortable?”

“Go ahead and lean back.”

Elliot does, still looking at the main guy and still covering himself.

“Okay, now why don’t you go ahead and rest your hands behind your head?”

Elliot almost scoffs. But then lifts his hands up while squeezing his legs together. He lifts up his arms, his pit hairs extending in full view, laying across his the smooth muscles of his of his lower biceps. He rests his head on his hands.

“I don’t think that looks all that comfortable,” one of the guys say. “Do any of you?”

They all shake their head no.

The main guy looks down at Elliot’s crotch, which makes him more self-conscious.

“Go ahead and spread those legs apart.”

Elliot roles his eyes and parts his lips in this exasperated motion. He then begins parting his legs. His bush that was peeking above the compression of his inner thighs comes spurring up through the flesh of his legs. Then the shaft peeks upward, the escaping light exposing the smoothness of his dick. Eventually the indentations of skin underneath the rim of his circumcised cock shows. Then, finally, the bulbous head, the color of a pale red, comes into full view. The slit can be seen at the tip with a fleshy shadow of his balls underneath.

“Good. Good work. Okay, young man, you’re gonna stay just like that for the rest of the day. Understand?”

Elliot’s eyes arch worryingly.

“Hey, bet you’ll never try this again, huh?”

Elliot sighs as he prepares to be greeting many people with his fully nude physique. It’s gonna be a long day.
RODNEY’S FINAL INTERVIEW (picture story)

June 4th, 2023

Rodney walks in, thumbs inside his pocket.

“Hi, sir,” Todd says.

Nelson Hedge, the interviewer, looks up at him. The smile he had immediately drops. This makes Rodney nervous. What makes Rodney even more nervous is that Nelson is looking at him up and down, the soft brown in his eyes suddenly taking on the appearance of small gavels as he’s obviously judging Rodney.

“Umm, you didn’t wear a tie or a blazer?”

“N-no, sir,” Rodney says.

“You were so sharply dressed the other times. Why not now?”

“Ummmm,” Rodney says, swallowing hard.

“You’re going to have to prove you want this job, Rodney, and willing to go above and beyond.”

“I understand, sir,” Rodney says.

Nelson leans back in his swivel chair. He juts his head up to Rodney while saying, “Why don’t you unbutton those top two buttons?”

“E-excuse me?”

“You heard me, Rodney. You’re not wearing a tie, you obviously want to be comfortable. So, go ahead. Make yourself more…. comfortable.”

Rodney brings his hand up to his shirt and starts sliding the buttons out of place.

Just as he’s about to stop, Nelson says, “Go on.”

Rodney quietly sighs as he starts using to hands.

He goes all the way down to where his shirt meets his pants, and stops again, unsure.

“You didn’t hear me say stop, did you, Rodney?”

“No, sir,” Rodney says. He then starts unbuttoning the cuffs on his shirt.

After that, he’s still unsure.

Nelson sighs profoundly.

“Okay, obviously you’re not serious. Let me just….”

“No, no,” Rodney says. Then he opens up his shirt.

Nelson disapprovingly arches an eyebrow while saying, “No undershirt, I see.”

“No sir,” Rodney says, having his hands down to his sides, his shirt off his shoulders.

He then takes the shirt off entirely and slings it over his shoulder, trying to appear confident.

Nelson doesn’t respond. So he put his over his other shoulder while smiling. But Nelson doesn’t appear amused.

“Well, no sense in wearing a belt without a shirt. Right, Rodney?”

While dropping the shirt, Rodney says, “Yeah, r-right.”

With one hand, he unbuckles his belt.

“While you’re at it, why don’t you open up those pants, too?”

Rodney’s eyes widen for a second. He then just undoes his pants and begins moving the zipper down, exposing the top of his underwear.

Nelson leans forward in his desk, putting his hands under his chin, then commandingly says, “Let’s see if you’re a boxers or briefs kinda a guy.”

“Sir?” Rodney says, slowing down the hand that’s unzipping the zipper.

“Opening up your pants more….. Show me.”

He holds onto either side of his now-opened pants. Then slides them open further, reveling the bottom of his briefs and how the front pouch is filled out.

Nelson leans back again, and while letting out an exhalation, he says, “Just go ahead and take ’em off.”

Rodney gulps some air as he slips his loafers off and slides his pants down. He pulls them off, along with his socks, one leg at a time and stands up now in his underwear.

“Turn around,” Nelson says.

Rodney does while still looking at Nelson.

“I can see you keep your backside in shape. But, I need to make sure. Go ahead, Rodney, give me a peek.”

“I’m sorry?”

Nelson sighs more loudly this time. “I need to see what your backside looks like, Rodney. You’re gonna be do a lot of bending down, picking up boxes. I need to see how much work you’ve put in on that part of your body.”

Rodney moves his hands up and hooks his thumbs in either side of his briefs and begins to push the material down.

While still keeping his eye on Nelson, he pushes the material enough to show the top of his ass.

“Keep going, Rodney.”

“Keep goin’. Wanna see how much your work paid off.

“Okay, pull ’em back up and turn around.”

Rodney has sudden relief as he faces his new possible employer.

That relief his cut short when Nelson puts his hand out as if saying, Well?

“Are, ummm, sir are you asking me to….?”

“I need to know you want this Rodney.”

He hooks his thumbs in his briefs and starts pushing down again. His skin begins to darken as the dusting of pubic hair begins to be unveiled.

“Just go ahead and get rid of ’em, Rodney.”

Rodney’s eyes expand as he immediately cups his dick and then steps out of his briefs. He drops them and stands back up, now covering up his privates with both hands.

“Turn around again.”

“Okay, go ahead and put your right leg on that chair. I need to get a better look.”

“Good. I need you to do something for me, Rodney.”

“O-okay.”

“I want you to turn around and sit in that chair. And since you’re so proud of being casual, I wanna see you relaxed”

Rodney turns around, his hands still on his privates and then sits down in the chair.

Moments pass while Nelson looks at Rodney expectantly.

“That doesn’t look very relaxed to me.”

Rodney takes one hand off his dick and slouches off to the side.

“Is that what you call comfortable, Rodney?”

Swallowing nervously, Rodney puts one leg over an arm of the chair.

“It’s okay, Rodney,” Nelson says as he starts gathering some things together folding papers on the desk. “We have other applicants today, anyway.”

With much nervousness, Rodney starts lifting up the remaining hand covering his privates. It can be seen through the slivers between his fingers. He then moves his hand out of the way. Putting his other hand on his leg, revealing all.

“Great,” Nelson immediately responds. “Okay, now we can begin.”

As Nelson gets up, walking towards the door, he says, “Stay just like that, Rodney. I’m going to get the others.”

An anxious thought flashes through Rodney’s mind as he feels a cold chill run down him. Others?