Tag: losing clothes

Brendan’s Naked Analysis

February 5th, 2023

Two weeks!” Gerald yells at the plumber, Brendon, who was hired to fix his shower head. “I have to wait two weeks!”

“Look, sir, it’s a very specific model.

Brendon gets a text and looks at his phone.

“You fuckin’ use it, then!”

Brendon sighs as he looks at the phone, not responding to Gerald. He sees it’s from his boss.

Why are you arguing with Gerald Westfield!? He’s not only one of our prominent clients, but also an investor! We actually have the part you’re speaking of! Just do whatever he wants. If he says jump, you say how high! We expect you back here to get the part you need. If you fuck this up, believe me, no one in this business will hire you again! Everyone knows who he is, you dumb fuck!

A chill runs through Brendon.

“Look, sir, I___”

“Don’t you DARE apologize to me. Go and use my fuckin’ shower head!”

“We’ve got the part,” the plumber quickly explains.

“Great, I’ll get it from one of your competitors!”

“You, you don’t have to do that,” Brendan quickly says.

Gerald backs his head up and cocks it to the side. He smiles, devilishly and says, “Okay, I’ll get it from you and give your boss rave reviews about you.”

Brendan smiles and nods his head as he feels relieved.

“Provided you do one thing for me.”

Brendan looks up and says, “What.”

“Like I said, I wanna test it one more time. Go in the bathroom.”

“Look, Mr. Westfield….”

“Go in my bathroom, NOW!”

Brendan flinches as he walks into the bathroom, quickly followed by Gerald.

Once in the bathroom, he sees Gerald put his phone in the compartment usually meant for soap on the other end of the shower, facing the shower head. Brendan remembers how he said it was waterproof.

Gerald walks back over to face Brendan. He nods his head to the shower while saying, “Okay, take your clothes off and get in.”

“What?” Brendan says, nervously laughing while holding himself a little.

“You don’t take a shower with your clothes on.” He throws his hand up to Brendan. “Take ’em off.”

Brendan gives Gerald this are-you-serious look.

“I could always call your boss.”

Brendan sighs again while starting to take his shoes off.

“And hurry up, I got important things to do.”

Brendan then slides his socks off. He gets back up and quickly runs his fingers down the buttons of his shirt. Shaking with nerves all the way. He pulls his shirt open and out of his pants, then slides it down his shoulders and off his arms. He can barely grasp the button on his pants he’s shaking so bad.

“Okay, I’m calling your boss,” Gerald says as he’s about to reach for his phone.

Brendan then grabs hold of his pants and tears open his button and zipper and quickly pulls his jeans down his legs. He steps out of them, almost tripping on them. He’s about to step into the shower when Gerald says, “Really, you shower with your underwear on? Take those off, too.”

Brendan almost protests, but then remembering what his boss said. He puts his hands on both sides of his briefs. He pushes the waist band down into the middle of his hands and then pulls his last article of clothing down. He stands back, his buttocks exposed to Gerald. With his hands covering his crotch, he steps into the shower.

“Buddy,” Gerald says, putting his thumb and index finger to his head, looking restless. “You are testing the shower head and you are an established plumber. Because of that, I need you to face the phone, for a second, while I state who you are.”

Brendan turns around, looking unsure if he should. While still covering up his penis, he faces the camera on his phone.

“Hands on your head,” Gerald says.

Brendan arches his eyebrow and turns to face Gerald. “Why?”

“Your job, here is not to ask questions,” Gerald says. “If you want an answer, then it’s because I’m Gerald fucking Westlake and I could make sure no one hires you again, understood?”

Brendan nods while he swallows a small piece of air.

“Good, now face the camera, and put your hands on your head.”

Brendan looks towards the phone and lifts up his hands and places them on the back of his head. His eyes expand while the right side of his mouth trembles upward, having no choice but to show his penis as it quivers with the rest of his fully exposed body.

Gerald begins, “This is Gerald Westlake. This plumber said I needed to wait two weeks for a new shower head. We’re about to test it….”
Zed’s Not-So-Free Ride

February 5th, 2023

“You think it’s funny taking other people’s property!?” the angry college student yells at Zed as he places the bike back against the pole.

Zed is laughing nervously, and honestly thought the bike was his. He thought it strange that it had no lock. But then saw his bike across the street just as the angry guy was running up to him.

Zed puts his hands up and is about to explain. He’s got his mouth open and is ready to speak when he hears another voice behind him.

“Why the fuck were about to go off with my friend’s bike, man!?”

Zed turns around and sees a group of guys approaching him. He doesn’t have much time to set things right.

“Look, gentleman,” he quickly says, “I thought it was mine.”

“Oh, you thought it was YOURS, huh!?” another guy in the group says.

They now have him surrounded.

“Look,” he turns to each one, “I, I’m sorr___”

“Can you believe this shit?” One of them says. “Thinkin’ that it was his? You believe that, bro?”

“I, I really thought…” Zed’s voice is shaky as he fumbles his hand outward to try and further explain.

“Maybe he’s right,” one of the group says.

“Yeah, maybe he is,” another one says.

This is interspersed with Zed trying to say something, anything, to make the situation better. But all that comes out is pieces of his voice as he keeps getting interrupted.

“Yeah. Since he thinks the bike is his,” the guy that was running up to him says, “maybe he’s got something that belongs to one of us.”

Zed looks back and forth between them. His eyes looking more desperate. His voice more anxious to speak.

“Yeah,” one of the other guys says as four from the group are getting closer.

It’s now or never, Zed has to say something.

As he starts speaking while saying, “Look, guys…”

Zed is still trying to explain himself as the four guys from the group grab hold of his arms and legs so he has as little movement as possible.

Zed is still trying to explain, words running quickly off of the fumbling curves of his tongue, but they’re not listening.

While they’ve still got him held in place, one of the other guys comes up to him and says, “Yeah, well, maybe I think this SHIRT is mine!”

As the guy says the word “shirt,” he uses both hands to grab hold of Zed’s collar and pulls his hands down in opposite directions. His body is thrust downward as the shirt quickly rips open. Splitting a quick tear all the way down to the bottom. As the man is angrily clawing at the sleeves, the fabric severing open beneath his grasping fingers, another person on the group comes to him from behind and reaches around his waist.

“And maybe we think these shorts are ours!”

Zed has no belt on, so the guy’s hands just blindly feels around on his shorts until they find the button. Then, as he’s unbuttoning the shorts and pulling the zipper down, the other guy tears the last few remaining strands of his shirt off. The fabric pulling from between his back and the backpack he has on.

Once the zipper’s down, his shorts are yanked down so hard that the skin on his legs giggle slightly while his butt bounces from beneath his underwear along with his still-covered penis.

They hold his legs up one at a time as they slide the shorts on the ground. Taking them away from him.

“Look,” Zed says breathlessly, looking around like a trapped animal, “You really don’t have to do this. It was a mistake.”

They collectively look amongst themselves and it appears an agreement has been reached. To Zed’s relief, the guys holding him in place let him go.

He smiles and crosses his arms over his bare chest and stands there with his back pack on and in his underwear.

“C-Can I have my shorts back?” Zed says.

No response, they just look at him. Zed nervously looks around and his instinct is to run.

“Dude, take the bike,” the original guy that approached him says.

“Mine is over there,” Zed quickly says as he darts in the other direction.

Zed’s heart jumps up in his chest when two of the guys grab hold of him again and walk him back to their friend’s bike. “Take it, man,” one of them says in this overly sweet, obviously fake voice.

“Yeah, you said you thought it was yours, so take it.”

He starts shaking his head no, but then sees all these college guys looking at him. They’re all eyeing him sternly, concentrating a hard stare that is practically shooting daggers at Zed.

“O-okay.” Zed agrees. At least he’ll have a way out of this situation.

“Except,” one of the guys says, approaching him.

Zed’s breath almost comes to a stop as he feels hands, again, grasping around his arms and legs. People have gathered, watching this situation unfold. “We just need one more thing which we,” the guy places his hand against his own chest, “Think is ours.”

Zed turns his head to the side. His eyes go wide and a gasp punches a hole in the back of his throat as it happens. A pair of hands are slapped either side of his underwear and then he feels his briefs quickly lowered, being pulled all the way down to his shoes. His now bare ass bounces while his exposed dick flops upward. They have him step out of it.

“Go on, get on,” they then say as they push him to the bike.

He puts one hand over his dick and nervously gets on.

He’s trying to balance himself with one hand as he rides off with not only the angry young college men looking at him, but many other people as well.

“If you’re going to ride like that,” one of them says as two come running up to him. They stop the bike from moving forward by putting their hands on the handlebars. One of them looks straight at Zed.

Zed looks back him as his eyes move slightly back and forth, afraid to fully look this guy in the face.

His eyes stay steely on Zed as he calmly places a hand on Zed’s hand covering his dick. He firms up his grip and then forces his hand up and out, revealing what he’s been trying to hide.

“Have an arm out for balance.”

He then leans in close to Zed’s ear and whispers, “Oh, and, ughhh, I called some friends, put the word out about you. They’re gonna watch to make sure you … get home safe.”

Zed gulps.

“And,” he leans in closer and lowers his voice to a hushed baritone, “if they see that you try to cover yourself in any way, we’re gonna not only report you but makes things a little more… difficult for you.”

The other person beside him coldly laughs.

The guy holding his arm pats him on the back and adds, “So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll make sure that dick of yours is flapping in the breeze and everyone gets a goooood fuckin’ look at it. Do I make myself clear?”

Zed nervously nods his head.

They let him go as he rides off, one hand out while the other is on his handlebar. His manhood bobbing in different directions as continues to use his legs to peddle the bike forward.
Dusty’s Dance

January 29th, 2023

The spotlight lands right on Dusty. He has to put his hand in front of his face and squint.

“Hello, sir,” the DJ says.

Currently, Dusty is at a wedding. It’s not even his wedding. Hell, he doesn’t even know anyone here. He’s actually just the sound guy and was calmly minding his own business sitting at this table, enjoying a drink. Right now, he doesn’t know what’s going on or why this fucking spotlight is in his face, but he can feel everyone turning their attention to him.

There’s a small speck of nervousness that drifts up through his thoughts.

“Umm, he-hello?” Dusty manages to say.

“Why don’t you come up here?”

Even through all the light flooding through his fingers, he can still see the DJ has his hand directed toward the center of the stage.
Dusty wants no part of this. “I’m, I’m good, thanks.”

Suddenly, his phone vibrates. He takes it out of his pocket and looks at the text. It’s from his boss: Get the fuck up there. These people are paying us good money. We do whatever they want.

Dusty sighs and gets up out of the chair and walks up right to where the DJ is pointing, which has an iron pole installed in place.

“What’s your name, my friend?” the DJ asks, his voice booming through the system that Dusty set up.

He doesn’t want to give it, but with his boss’s words in his mind, he says, “Dusty.”

“Well, as you can see, Dusty, the spotlight landed on you.”

He hears some laughter, but also some women and men going Wooo! Yeah! UH-HUH! The phrases almost sound like cat calls.

“Okay, you know the rules, Dusty. Why don’t you put on a show for us?”
Rules? What rules is he talking about? Music starts up. Dusty hears a series of words and being thrown at him. They’re all collected into this mindless soup, which sends his mind into a twirling blender. But then, he hears three words spoken from the back corner that suddenly puts this all together: “TAKE IT OFF!”

Dusty laughs a little. But his heart still jumps up. There’s still an apprehensive lilt at the base of his voice. And his expression has a shadow of pensiveness. But, he’s a good sport. He starts curving his torso back and forth.

“WOO!”

“Yeah, baby!”

He smiles, kind of loving the attention. He gets into a groove and his backside begins to make a circling motion that moves into his legs with this comical seduction.

He then crosses his arms down and curves his fingers around the bottom of his horizontally black-and-white striped shirt he has on. He holds his hands there while grasping the bottom of the fabric tighter. Really teasing the audience. They respond with a humorous frustration. He can even hear some of the guys saying, “Stop teasing us, bro!”

He slowly moves his hands up above the button on his jeans, just to the point where you can see his gyrating stomach. The skin is mostly smooth with a kissed tan. He lowers the shirt back down and even stretches it downward. He cups his hand to his ear while making this expectant expression.

“C’mon, man!”

“Let’s see it!”

He lifts his shirt up again. This time, higher, showing more of his stomach up to the bottom of his chest.

There are claps and hollers and growing impatience that begins to take presence in the people’s voices and expressions.

Dusty suddenly and quickly pulls the shirt up. The fabric brushing up against his face and running through his hair. He slides it off one arm and puts his arms back down while still holding the shirt in his other hand.

He shakes his chest while motioning his fingers back and forth with a c’mon kind of look in both his expression and in how he presence his body.

Listening to the crowd, while still holding his shirt, he places his hands on his stomach and starts sliding them down. As he does this, he contours the bottom half of his body forward. Softly thrusting his package.

“YEAH!”

“Keep going!”

He undoes the button on his jeans. They expand open. The spotlight on him really highlights the top of the gray underwear he has on underneath. The hand holding his shirt floats up to his zipper. Slowly, he lifts it up and pulls. The teeth unbind and more of the gray underwear is seen. When the zipper can’t go anymore, he lets go. He gives a big smile, throws his hands up and bows. There are some boos.
Dusty stands back up and puts his hands to his hips. He shakes his head no.

Just before he moves his hands off his waist, he’s bumped forward. As that’s happening, he feels the shirt he’s been holding onto stretching in his grasp and it’s suddenly whipped out of his hand. He feels someone else’s hand on the side of his jeans.

A shock jumps up through his system as a cold chill sparks his lungs. He can’t let this happen. That’s when he notices his boss out of the corner of his eye, shaking both his head and his finger. Shit.

The hand starts pulling and both his jeans and underwear are torn down in a diagonal fashion. The tan line of his inner thigh peaks up through the bunched-up material.

He still has his hands to his hips and wears this cocky smile on his face. It’s only a slight uplift in his lips while his cheeks round themselves a little forward. He’s trying to appear like he’s playing along as much as possible. But inside, his heart is beating faster and his nerves shudder at the very feel of air touching exposed skin.

Then, with one good yank, the hand whips both his jeans and underwear halfway down his legs. He feels his pubic hair bloom out while his uncut penis flops upward and lands on his trembling nuts. He really wants to cover up, but he can still see his boss out of the side of his face, giving him this scolding stare.

He still has his hands on his waist, still wearing this knowing smile. But in his head, he’s already making plans to look for another job. In the meantime, though, his stomach is sinking as he almost clenches his bare ass.

“I don’t know, folks. Maybe he should stay like that for tonight?” the DJ says, half jokingly, half serious. “What do y’all think?”

He hears cheers and more hoots and hollers.

God, he really hopes the DJ is kidding.

Tag: losing clothes

Brendan’s Naked Analysis

Zed’s Not-So-Free Ride

Dusty’s Dance