Tag: men stripped

THIS IS HOW I WANT TO SEE HIM NAKED: ARTISTS, COLLABORATION AND RECLAIMING ENM FANTASY

December 15th, 2025

Like I’ve said time and time again in my pieces, let’s collaborate more. Let’s have more artists that are ENM enthusiasts to make the films and projects we want to see.

I have made what I want to see in an ENM story no secret: a male character that’s fully dressed that gradually introduces a theme of humiliation. Let’s not just see a guy naked, but really see how he got naked. Another thing I’ve said before, it’s not just the nudity that’s the star of the show, it’s the journey the character went through to being naked and exposed. That build-up of tension, the hot flush of embarrassment that slowly takes possession of a man’s face before even one article of clothing is removed? That really gets me going.

To me, embarrassment? Humiliation? Especially when it’s tied to the theme of a fetish is an art form, a manufactured thread that’s slowly peeled from masculine attire to reveal the flesh of the creative work compiled of artists and actors that really know how to invest in the bullet factories compacted in the realistic sweat of their brow. It’s fiction that’s specifically tailored to fit into the niche of ENM. And since this is a piece written from my point of view, I am compiling together just a few pieces I’ve written that I’d love to see made into films. More a sampling, really, of what I like to see when it comes to ENM…

DAVID’S NEW FRIENDS

This is one of my more requested works. If someone reaches out to me and asks me where to find one of my stories, this is usually the one they’re referring to.

This story centers on Dave. A husky bear-like type guy that’s shapely and has body hair for days. Dave is minding his own business, just walking listening to music when he suddenly finds himself surrounded by a bunch of guys that fancy themselves a “gang”. They’re actually dressed like West-Side-Story rejects and their “gang” activity is more PG-rated compared to actual gang violence. But, when it concerns Dave, their motivations are definitely more X-rated when it comes to public exposure.

These guys talk to David in a rather intimidating fashion ultimately leading up to asking Dave for articles of clothing: Hey man, can I have your shoes? Can I have your socks? Can I have your vest? So on and so forth until David really doesn’t have anything else to give up.

This story was fun to write because it encompasses a slow humiliation. Not only that, but the dialogue really revs up the tension. There are many points in the conversation where the character feels they may let him go, but it’s ultimately a false pretense. And by the point they start asking him for his clothing one piece at a time, the character is already in the throws of intensity.

Since this character is more beefy, it would be great to see a husky, bearish guy with a lot of body hair and a real nice face to be cast. One that can carry such a physique well. This would be fun to make into a short fetish film.

PROFESSOR DOLTON LEARNS A LESSON

One of my favorite kinds of ENM storylines is ones that involve a comical slant, where there’s a certain light-hearted nature and a playfulness that edges into a spicy territory. The main character can find himself in the slow shock of embarrassment that singles him out before his clothes start to gradually disappear.

In this story, Professor Dolton has started his class, but, what’s this? A mysterious voice enters the picture. No one knows where the voice is coming from and as the professor is thrown by the confusion of this disconnected voice, it starts to talk to him about the importance of teaching and how he doesn’t need much to realize that: not his papers or his desk or his blackboard and, eventually, not even his clothing.

This was inspired by a movie I saw when I was younger called “Kentucky Fried Movie”.

This was a parody that involved different skits and vignettes. One of them centered on a housewife that didn’t realize all the things that a certain product was made with that a voice was telling her about. It was one of those single-camera commercial parodies and obviously played for laughs. Every time something is mentioned that the product is made with, it disappears. While her clothing doesn’t disappear, her bra and the buttons on her blouse do.

This was actually my least favorite part. I personally don’t like ENF or embarrassed-nude-female material. It makes me uncomfortable and, personally, to me, media is too littered with images where women are more objects of desire. How many times in a drama or a suspense or horror or even a comedy where a woman is reminded she is just an object or something to be ogled and is humiliated or violated for it? That’s what those kinds of scenarios make me think of and it just gives me the ick

With that said, if that’s your thing and you don’t carry it out with malice or intent to harm, that’s fine. Like I said before, I don’t kink shame. And if everyone involved is a willing participant or it’s just a fictionalized story, then have at it. It’s just not my thing.

But, I did think to myself, what if the genders were reversed and it was a man? While it’s not the exact same scenario, it still has the playfulness and the sexiness of what I’m sure the original intent of that scenario was.

JAY’S WORDROBE MALFUNCTION

Okay, this, I think, would involve some kind of special effect or AI engine to pull off. And AI is something I haven’t mastered. Hell, I haven’t even gotten control of the basics.

This story involves Jay Dandridge, a smug business man in a cafe that is pretty pompous and treats everyone else like they’re less important than he is. He’s got things to do! And everyone else is just in the way.

This is also taking place in a reality where a certain type of magic exists. A world where certain people have certain abilities to make things happen. And when Jay treats the wrong person like carp, she soon takes vengeance by slowly making his clothing rip away from his body by magical means. And not only does she get in on the act but several other people in the cafe do.

Okay, this I’ve always wanted to see get played out. A man being slowly and gradually stripped completely naked in public by magical means has always been a fascination of mine and really gets me goin’. If you’ve read my previous stories and articles, then you know that the more public the scenario, the hotter I find it. And what’s better than a man being forcibly exposed in a coffee shop full of people in broad daylight?

Also, I put some dialogue in here that I really enjoy. One part I wrote involves an officer that Jay thinks has come to help him, but as the officer continues talking, he’s reminded that no one is going to be saving him from public humiliation. Here’s an excerpt….

“’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…’”

I really like writing dialogue like that. The kind that drags out the embarrassment and humiliation and really drives home to the character that, at some point, he is not going to be wearing anything and he will be the only person that has no clothing.

This, to me, is what ENM is all about: the embarrassment, the humiliation, and, most importantly, seeing how the clothing is taken away. Actually, more importantly than that, the dialogue and the tension leading up to that point. How it hints, at first, and makes the main character unsettled and slowly, it’s making him feel that sting of embarrassment and may even make him hold himself in certain ways and how even the clothing he’s currently wearing is feeling like a security blanket because it will soon be taken from him.

This is the type of fiction I like. This is what’s spicy to me.

And speaking of that, there’s one more type of scenario that really gets me going and it’s more of a classic to me. The ol’ dependable forced-to-strip scenario:

RICK’S EXPOSÈ

This story focuses on Rick Sals. An attractive red-headed gent that’s a public figure opening up a bank. But there are some protesters that are not liking the politics of this bank or how cavalier Rick has been about it all.

These armed protesters take control of this very public live-news event and decide to have a moment to chat with Rick. They want him to feel the embarrassment and the humiliation and degradation that he’s put others through. And, eventually, they force him to strip at gun point.

This simple premise has been at the baseline of my fetish ever since I’ve had it. It’s classic and dependable. Plus, I just really like that command being spoken: take off your clothes. Or, even better, in this case: take off all of your clothes.

This goes into seeing how the clothing is removed. Hearing certain commands is pretty hot. And listening to everything leading up to that command is exciting. This I would love to see in a film or a movie.

And, in all of these scenarios, there is one very important thing that is especially important to me: enforced full-frontal nudity. And none of that implied shit. No. I want to actually see it.

You see, for me, what’s missing in many forced-nudity/ENM scenarios of a visual medium is how it’s shot. What I want is a full body shot from head to toe from beginning to end. I want to see the embarrassment and the sweating bullets of the character and I want to see the clothing being removed or them having to remove clothing from a full-body shot. I want to see a man’s body being slowly unveiled just as I would if I were actually there. This, to me, is hot. Nothing annoys me more when the camera cuts away as the character is undressing or the clothing is being removed from him. Even if it does have full-frontal nudity, we didn’t see the best part… them actually stripping or being stripped.

With all of this said, like I’ve said before, it’s imperative to me that this all takes place within the realm of fiction. This is not something I would like to see carried out in reality. But it being acted out as it’s being filmed? That’s awesome. Or, if AI ever gets to that point or if I’m ever able to master AI to that point, creating a scenario where we see it play out just like this. And, hey, if anyone has any AI pointers, that would be helpful. Because, seriously, I am a complete novice.

But, this is just a sample of what I like to see as an ENM fetishist. This is what turns me on. I get that it’s not the same for everyone. And that’s what I like about this. It’s not for everyone who even shares this fetish. But the main thing is we all share this fetish. I would like to, one day, be able to make a short film or even a short fetish film, and gather some people together that are just as enthusiastic about this as I am where we all have the same end goal, how we want to see ENM portrayed. I say, you can do the same. However you want to see it, as long as no one is getting hurt or is actually being put through any kind of emotional distress or turmoil to get to the end product and everyone is a complete willing participant, then have at it. It would be awesome to see what people will come up with when they have the passion and the drive to create what they want to see.
Rick’s Exposé

December 15th, 2025

Rick Sals has his red hair slightly tussled, today, but just enough to make it look like he did it on purpose. His tufts of eyebrows are sculpted above his eyes, giving him this gruff softness and usually make his emerald green eyes shine. He left some stubble dusting the bottom half of his face that often gives the shape of it this playful look that he often cannot live up to. He has on a suit and tie today, but when he’s out, it’s just a T-Shirt and jeans. He usually has on a V-neck that often hints at the red chest hair he has which gives him this touch of spice. A little bit of fire.

Today is very important for him. It’s the grand opening of this bank, this bank that’s directly across the street from where Hope Bank used to be. It got closed down about a year ago. It was known as the people’s bank. The most transparent one in place many of the town’s people said. And now, Westingfield Bank has opened. And not a lot of people like Westingfield.

It’s gotten quite the reputation what with the unfair working conditions overseas. Those branches were closed down and now it’s pretty much all American. As an attempt at good faith. Today mark’s the first US branch to open.

Rick is standing in front of the reporters from the local news that have come to record the event. With everyone dressed in their best attire. That was the memo. The very same memo Rick followed as well. He found it an honor when his boss told him he’d like Rick to be the face of the opening.

“Mr. Sals, any word on any more banks opening?” one of the reporters ask.

As the cameras go clicking off, causing flashes to blink in and out, he nods his head, smiles, and says, “We anticipate all to go well. This is the beginning of a new era for Westingfield. We have now taken the helm of being transparent.”
“How does your employer expect to gain the people’s trust again?” another reporter asks.

“We’re aware our brand hasn’t been tied to very savory activities in the past, but that is why we shut down those places of business and are opening anew. More trust, more faith, more value.”

“What about all of those people in the third-world nations that are out of a job, now? How are they going to get their livelihood back?”

“We actually enacted a severance package. Once we caught the news of what our cohorts were doing, we were, of course, appalled, and upon shutting down those branches, we invested into the very communities our partners, that are no longer with us, mind you, put those people through. We believe that everyone deserves a chance to a fresh start.”

He smiles again as he nods to the cameras.

“Really?” he hears a deep male voice say, booming in the background.

This is followed by some actual screams and some people running. Many of the reporters turn their cameras around and as the blinding white from the from the eruption of camera flashes subsides, Rick sees what everyone is looking at.

Men. Smiley-face masked men with guns. Five of them. All in front of the bank. Rick’s heart sinks as his eyes go wide. His blood flushes cold as the color in his skin drains. This isn’t good.

“Your bosses, the people that have paid you to be here today, they paid you to say that, too, Mr. Sals?”

The reporters back away as many of the people are looking onward, frozen in fear.

“We’re not here to hurt anyone,” one of the other gunmen say.

“We’re not here for your money! We’re just here to make a point!” another one of the gunmen say.

“And we need everyone’s cooperation. Including Mr. Sals, here. The reporters keep reporting. Keep the cameras going. We’re more concerned about how this event goes than what happens to us.”

He doesn’t like the sound of that.

The main gunman walks up to Rick. He’s dressed all in black and his smiley-face mask is bright yellow like the sun. It’s strapped from the back of his head and completely covers his face. He’s built like a linebacker. He points the gun to Rick.

Rick’s heart jumps. He reacts by putting his hands up.

“You can keep your hands to your sides.”

Rick does as he’s told

“I have some yes or no questions for you, Mrs. Sals. I already know the answer, so answer wrong, and well, things could get very messy for you”

Rick really doesn’t like the sound of that, either.

“First one is simple enough. You got a bonus for being here today. True?”

Rick nods his head.

“Good. Next question, were you made aware that not all the branches in those third-world nations were actually closed?”

The answer to that question is yes. He could be honest. But that could mean his job. If he’s not, it could mean his life. He takes a gamble and his nerves nearly jump out of his skin when he says, “Um, n-no, sir.”

Silence. The gunmen looks at him. Rick doesn’t close his eyes, he just keeps looking forward . He does whatever he can to not make himself look guilty. No darting eyes or sweats or anything of the like.

“Really? Okay, well, did you also know that that some of the very people here were not only hired from Hope bank, but are getting paid far less? That they were pretty much told they had to deal with less than a living wage while you, Mrs. Sals, you are getting paid at least 90% more than anyone here?”

There’s no way he’s going to say yes to that.

“No, no, I didn’t,” Mr. Sals said, shaking his head. If the gunman makes threats, he’ll just start saying yes and later, say he was forced to under duress.

Again, silence. The gunman tilts his head. As he moves the gun in just a little close, he says, “You are . . . lying.”

Rick doesn’t say anything. He just tries to stay calm but is shaking. There’s some sweat coming down from his red hair.

“And, there’s a price to pay for that, Mr. Sals.”

“All right, yes, I knew!” Rick just blurts out. He’ll be able to explain this away. It’ll be fine.

The gunman tilts his head again, and chuckles. He can’t see past these masks, but if he didn’t know any better, he’s thinking that some of these masked men are smirking at him.

“You’re a fucking coward, Mrs. Sals. And today, we’re going to teach you a little lesson in what it’s like being stripped of some of your power.” The gunman shakes his head. “Kick over your shoes and socks please. Now.”

Rick quickly removes his shoes. Fumbling with the laces, but eventually gets them untied. He almost rips them off his feet, then his socks and tosses them.

“Good. Now, you see this gun in my hand, Mr. Sals?”

Rick quickly nods his head.

“Look at it.”

He narrows his eyes and looks down the barrel of it. How the gunman holds it with such precision and ease. Completely still. As if it’s a predator stalking its prey.

“What do you think would happen to your head if I pull this trigger?” the gunman asks.

“Um, well…”

“HUH!?”

“It would pr-probably explode,” he answers, looking around him and to the reporters that are still filming this.

“It would leave a pretty bad hole wouldn’t it?”

Rick nods his head.

“Wouldn’t . . . .it?”

“Ye-yes. Yes, it would.”

“Good. Keep that in mind. I want you to picture exactly what would happen if the bullet in this chamber goes off and goes right through that head of yours. Your blood, brains, pieces of your scalp and even skull embedded into the carpet. How horrible that would be on live TV. Are you picturing it?”

“Yes, yes, sir.”

“Good,” the gunman says, calmly.

Rick’s heart is clawing out of his chest. Rattling against his rib cage as if it’s an Attica prisoner running a metal coffee cup back and forth against the bones like bars. He’s still shaking. Of course, he’s shaking. His breathing is catapulted out of his mouth. Flaring through his nostrils. The sweat now dripping from his red eyebrows. Falling down his softly chiseled face. His suit clinging to his tightly defined physique as his skin pounds underneath the throbbing fear pulsating in his nerves.

“Because, Mr. Sals,” the gunman stops as Rick can practically smell the metal of the chamber, “I’m not going to kill you. That’s not what here to do, today. But make no mistake, there are a thousand ways to hurt you with this and even permanently injure you and I need you to keep that in mind when I say I have the gun. My . . . cohorts . . . have guns. And we’re not afraid to use them. On you. So, you will do what I say. Got it?”

Rick nods his head.

“Good. Now, the company paid a lot for you to be here today. I mean, how much is that suit? Huh?”

“Um,” Rick wants to hold off on the answer.

“Remember, I need you to answer, honestly.”

“Six thousand dollars,” Rick says.

The gunman whistles as a way to say, Holy shit. “Must be a nice suit. You are literally dressed in the injustices of the very company you work for. You realize that, right?”

Rick nods his head, again.

“Good. So, know this. My partners have this place held pretty solid. Cops are coming, of course. But we’re gonna be here a while.”

The gunman laughs as if a light bulb went off above his head. He moves his head up and down as if he’s giving Rick this scanning look while moving the gun the same way.

Rick isn’t sure what he’s going to say. He just wants to get outta here.

“In fact, we’ll let you go.”

Rick’s heart lifts up out of his chest. He’s never felt so relieved.

“Just after you do something . . . for us. For the people. As a sign of comradely. As a symbol that you are aware that everything down to the attire you chose for today is thanks to the people that you and your company are oppressing”

“O-okay,” Rick says.

The gunman inhales before he speaks and tilts his head again. “Take off all your clothes.”

Rick can’t believe what he just heard. He shakes his head. “Um, wh-what?” He laughs a little nervously. He looks to the reporters with all of those cameras facing him. To the other bank employees looking onward. His heart starts beating faster.

“I will say this once more, and if you don’t comply, I’m going for the knee. Take . . . off . . . all .. . . of . . . your . . . clothing.”

Rick’s hands move up a little and then stops and then move up more to the buttons on his blazer. As his shaking hands can barely hold onto the buttons that slide through the fabric of his blazer, opening it up further. “What do you think this is going to prove?” he asks as he opens the blazer up and slides it off his arms.

While he takes off the first article of clothing, the gunman says, “Throw it over to any of my men.”

Rick tosses it through the air and one of the gunmen catches it.

“Anything to take one of you fuckers down is a good day.”

“This really worth going to jail for? A juvenile prank?” Rick asks as his still shaking hand starts untying his tie He loosens it, un-knots it, sliding it through each twist of fabric, making it looser around his neck until he can slide it through his collar and tosses it to the same gunman.

“Oh, Mr. Sals. This is just the beginning.”

The gunman says that knowingly. Although, he doesn’t know what this maniac is hinting at.

“No one told you to stop, Mr. Sals,” the gunman says, motioning to his shirt.

He unbuttons his sleeves, then pops the top button on his collar. It springs open to either end. And as he moves his hands down, undoing more buttons, his white T-shirt underneath is revealed, clinging against his slim build. The V-neck dips down, revealing some of that red chest hair peaking through. He untucks his shirt from his pants and undoes the last button. He then removes it as if he’s surrendering a white flag. The lean muscle is seen shaping the length of his arms extending from the short sleeves of his V-neck. He tosses this shirt to the same gunman.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. He hopes that this is it. Because standing around in his underwear is humiliating enough. He thinks of this as he unbuckles his belt. The clanging of it can be heard over the dead silence. He slides it out of the buckle and then pulls straight through the loops of his pants and Rick can feel the warmth of the friction caused by the belt moving against the fabric of his pants. The slight tugging of his waist and then the release as the belt drops out of the last loop. He tosses it to the same gunman.

He then pries open the button of his slacks, which slides through. He waits for a second before reaching for the head of his zipper. And as he pulls it down, he starts and stops a few times. All the while, that sound. The very sound of a zipper being undone. Air is now being breathed open into his underwear. Which are a pair of briefs that his undershirt is tucked into. He holds either side of his pants, now completely open. Rick shakes his head. “C’mon man.”

“If you don’t continue, Mr. Sals, I will blow out your knees. Do you know how painful that would be?”

Rick rolls his eyes as he slides his pants down. He bends down. Now completely showing his underwear and how it clings against his ass. Which is firm and rounded. When he gets back up and throws the pants to one of the gunmen, the shape of his briefs can be seen clinging perfectly to the shape of his rear end. Which shows how he dedicates himself to squats and all that jogging. Then there’s the front. Where is penis is clearly seen packaged in the front, bulging out.

Rick holds himself, trying to cover how the outline of his nipples are poking through.

The gunman motions his hands up, obviously referring to his undershirt.

Rick sighs. But then reaches into the bottom of his undershirt, curving his fingers into the fabric and pulls up. The red hair on his chest is evenly displayed. It’s not thick, but it’s just enough to give further definition.

He tosses the undershirt to the gunman and continues to hold himself, now standing in his underwear. The hair on his chest and stomach is a thin layer, but all moves in one direction. Angling downward as if it’s a field of red-tinted grass crop dusted over his chest. A thin stream of hair goes down his toned stomach and reaches into the top of his underwear.

“Now, Mr. Sals,” the gunman says, still pointing the gun at him, “I did say all. . . of your clothes.”

His eyes widen as his heart sinks. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening. Reporters are still standing on both sides of him. Patrons and employees are still looking forward. He’s about to be completely naked in front of everyone.

“C’mon man.”

“Do you know how it feels to live life with one of your knees being permanently out of commission?” the gunman asks, pointing that gun at him. Still and confident.

Rick shakes his head.

“Would you like to?”

Rick cautiously lifts his hands up. He lays his fingers on the band of his underwear. He starts digging into the waistband, feeling his nails scratching against his skin. He slowly pulls down. Revealing the shape of his firm butt cheeks. His red pubic hair springs up and out of his underwear as he immediately covers himself. With one hand, he steps each leg out of his underwear and tosses it to the gunman, now holding all of his clothes.

Rick stands back up and holds his dick with both hands.

“Those clothes you just took off have a little something extra in them, you know that, right?”

Rick appears confused as he narrows his eyebrows in together.

“Drugs. At least, that’s what the police will find.”

Rick’s heart sinks again.

“Now, you’ll be able to go outside, just need you to do one more thing.”

Rick doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Each person working here, each and every living human being that was working and some that still are working in those national branches go out every day, degraded, and humiliating themselves for you and your company.”

Rick breathes in more deeply as he continues to look forward.

“Now, answer me this, Mr. Sals. A person that has profited from all of that, that has benefited from such extreme debasing of human rights and the humiliation of your fellow kind,” he points the gun down to his hands, “Do you think that kind of person should be given the right to cover himself?”

He widens eyes as they nearly pop out of his skull.

He moves the gun to either side, knowing what this person is indicating. He wants Rick to take his hands off of his dick and show it everyone. This fucking pervert.

“I will shoot your hands,” the gunman says.

Rick looks down and take one had off his dick. The shaft is peaking through his fingers. The shape of his testicles is showing through in the curves of his one remaining hand. The one thing left that is standing between him and complete and utter humiliation.

Then, closes his eyes hard as he lifts his other hand off his penis.

It’s uncircumcised and is quite hung. Swaying, freely now, from the patch of red pubic hair that merges with the trail of hair going up his stomach and then up his chest. All is shown now. His balls now moving slightly as they swing back and forth with the delicate pendulum-like movements of his dick.

“You’re free to go. Keep your hands off your penis or one of my men will still shoot you.”

He swallows hard as he walks past the gunman and the past the reporters and the other patrons and all those people outside. His dick swaying with the movement of his legs. How the back of his legs bounce, firmly, and then ripple into roundness of his ass cheeks. He walks outside the bank, showing everything to everyone.
Professor Dolton Learns A Lesson

December 15th, 2025

Professor Jamie Dolton looks like he should be posing for a black-and-white Old Spice or Calvin Klein ad. At least that’s what he’s been told. His silver hair with the remains of dark brown blended into it is distinguished. He has it tussled but in a very organized way. Taking on the look of ocean waves crashing into the beach sand. The dark of his eyebrows is sympathetically lined above his eyes with the dark, dark hair that make his crystal blue eyes burn through. He also has a salt-and-pepper beard lightly defined around his jawline and going around his mouth that paints his features into this model chic. It’s like the musk of salt water spayed around the lightly tanned skin. He also has a tightly defined physique. It’s slightly bulky, strong, and muscular, and enough definition to give his build outlining into the shape of his clothes he always wears that is just tight enough to show his body shape, but only a hint.

“Professor?”

Not the voice he wants to hear.

Professor Dolton sighs and looks up to Randall. He’s standing there with his hands twiddling and he’s lifting up back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Randall. You’re not in my class, anymore, remember?”

“I, um, I know,” Randall sighs, nervously laughing. The curls of his dusty brown hair look a little more unkempt. He hasn’t kept up well. But that’s not Professor Dolton’s problem.

“Look, I wasn’t there,” Randall says. Regarding a fraternity prank that drove a fellow student off campus. They’d revealed some pretty personal secrets and the student just couldn’t be at the University anymore. He left to go back home and said he’d return to another campus in the fall. But the damage had been done.

And actually, the professor knew he wasn’t there. But he was pretty much the fall guy. He, unfortunately, is not only good friends with the people that did pull the prank but is part of the fraternity. In fact, he’s the one that turned them in. But the media was wanting everyone to pay. This meant Randall. And the professor is not about to sacrifice his reputation or position for some kid who doesn’t know better than to be involved with such a nefarious crowd.

“Randall, it’s done. I’m sorry, you can’t be here. I’m going to need to call security.”

“Please, Professor, I have nothing,” Randall says, putting his hands up. He can see tears well up in Randall’s gray-green eyes. “You know as well I do I didn’t deserve this. Please.”

“I’m sorry, ugh, Randall,” the professor says with some pangs of guilt.

Randall must have sensed this, because he then says, “If I can just sit in, I’ll, I’ll even go to the back, I don’t care.”

The professor turns his expression steely and emotionless. He is not risk ruining any of his reputation for this guy, even if he is innocent.

“You knew the consequences.”

Randall was about to start speaking.

“I will call security. Please leave,” he says sternly.

Randall looks down and runs off. The desperation of his slight cries cringes into the air and it makes the professor even more guilty for at least a minute. But he reminds himself the importance of his reputation.

He looks up and sees students beginning to fill in as Randall leaves through the front door. Some of the students look concerned while others ask what’s wrong, but he doesn’t answer and just flies past all of them.

The professor goes to the podium and begins gathering his material for the day. He looks up and sees some still arriving and finding seats. He looks to the clock as he walks away from the podium and to the front of his desk, facing everyone. There’s a few minutes before class starts.

Today, there’s a guest speaker, but he hasn’t seen him, yet. And there’s only about a minute left. He doesn’t like that any of his time will be wasted. So, if the speaker isn’t here on the dot, he’s going start without him. He’ll introduce the speaker, still, but will go about his lesson for the day until he arrives.

The clock strikes 8. He looks up and opens his mouth prepared to exhale his voice.

“Good morning, professor,” a voice says. He looks around as well as the other students. He looks up to the intercom, confused.

“Okay,” the professor says. “I’m not sure who just said that, but, um, good morning to you, too,” he says, looking out into the crowd. There’s some laughter. “So, today___”

“As a professor, you must realize the importance of teaching,” the voice says.

That, Professor Dolton didn’t much appreciate. “Okay, who’s saying this?” the professor asks looking out into this class. All of the students look confused. He’s sure it’s one of them. Maybe one of them can throw their voice.

“I realize this must be confusing for you, but today, I am here to show you and the class that you do not need much of anything to realize the power of teaching.”

“Okay, is this the guest speaker? If so, can you come out and play with the rest of the class?” he says, chuckling. “It’s not fair that no one can see you.”

“Oh, professor, you see, teaching is all around you. You as a leader of knowledge must know that nothing is as important as the words you relate.”

“This is not funny,” he says looking around. The students look to each other, now, some laughing. Some having a worried expression. Some just looking forward with a face that says how ridiculous this is.

“First, a professor knows how to stand. Straight and hands off to the side ready to express the lessons he is about to give.”

“Okay, I don’t know what is going on here,” the professor says out into the class, “but whoever’s doing this needs to stop. If the Dean put you up to this, it is not funny.”

He looks down and realizes that he is standing with his hands to his sides. He can move fine, but for some reason, he just stays like that.

He arches an eyebrow.

“A professor, a teacher, has much power in their personality and everything they give. They just need the power of their own words. They don’t need fancy computers.”

He hears a noise behind him. It’s almost like a hollow clicking sound. The students widen their eyes, and each have a genuine expression of shock.

He’s able to look behind him, but oddly, still stands up front with his hands to his sides. His computer that was on his desk. It’s gone.

Now, he’s pissed and he’s about to start raging. Then the voice says, “they don’t need their lesson plans.”

This is getting weird.

He wants to start looking around, seeing who’s doing this, but for some reason, he’s staying in the same place, still with his hands to his sides.

He looks down and even sees the papers he had in his left hand are gone now, too.

“Okay, who’s doing this?” Professor Dolton says, looking around the now confused class.

“No one’s really doing this, Professor. I’m just showing you how effective you can be as someone leading people. You, yourself, as the man you are and accompanied by just your personality and the words you carry. You don’t need all that much. Like that podium or chair.”

There are some gasps from the class as Professor Dolton hears that hollow clicking sound twice, now. It occurred after the voice said podium and then again after it said chair.

He tries to look behind him but is betting those are gone, now, too.

What the fuck?

“This is absurd!” Professor Dolton exclaims as he looks up to the class, his mouth agape.

“Oh, Professor,” the voice says. “I’m just showing you how effective you are as a person. Why, you don’t even need that desk.”

This time, after the hollow clicking sound, he hears things fall and clatter to the floor, causing him to flinch. He heard all of his items fall to the floor.

He’s about to object when the voice says, “you don’t need that watch you have on.”

Again the clicking sound as he looks down and his watch is gone. He looks around his class and tries to make sense of this. “This is____”

The voice interrupts and says, “Or those shoes.”

He drops a little to the floor as he gasps. His shoes or gone.

“Those socks.”

Pop. And now the socks are gone and he can suddenly feel the cold floor beneath his feet. His students are looking confused and some have a small smile on their face. He can even begin to hear some slight laughter. Not good.

“Those glasses.”

Within an instant, his vision goes slightly blurry. He can still see without his glasses, but they help and keep things in focus.

“Now, wait a minute,” the professor says.

“Or that belt.”

Clicking sound again. He can move his hands up to his pants and suddenly doesn’t feel any kind of belt in the loop.

“Okay, I get it!” The professor says. “You can stop now.”

“Or the buttons on that shirt.”

Suddenly, he can feel the air in the middle of his chest wisping against the grey and dark chest hair shaped against his solid pec muscles and rippled overtop his stomach and abdomen.

“YOU CAN STOP NOW!” the professor exclaims as his students start to look shocked.

“In fact, you don’t need the shirt at all.”

“NO!” the professor yells and he suddenly feels the air all around his now bare chest and back. The hair is extending over his shoulders and trails down the very defined muscles on his back. The class could now see how rugged his upper body is. His heart is beating a little faster as his nerves are beginning to unravel. There’s a slight embarrassment starting to well up in him. “Um, okay, okay, mysterious voice guy. I get it. I’m a good professor and all I need are my essentials. Can I get back to teaching my class?”

“Of course,” the voice says as relief jumps up into him. He’s still a little nervous because he still can’t entirely move from the position he’s in.

“Um, I think you forgot something,” he says looking up.

There’s actually some stifled laughter, now, from his class.

He arches his eyebrow in frustration, but it mainly clenching onto his feeling of humiliation.

“You can teach all day long,” the voice says. “You are great as just you.”

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head a little. Although he finds he still can’t move around too much. “Um, do you mind?” he says extending his hands and looking up, still trying to see where the voice is coming from.

“Not at all. Professors of your caliber don’t need too much. In fact, you don’t need___”

“NO!” the professor yells looking up out of a panic.

“That white board behind you.”

Pop.

He looks behind him and the board is gone. There are now some gasps in the class.

A bit of relief eases into him, but it settles into a rather discomforting unrest that he refuses to let go of until he can actually move around.

“Or the button on those pants.”

Pop.
He dashes his head to the front and looks at his class, widening his eyes. Some students are hiding their faces while others are red faced and others are laughing a bit.

He darts his head down and sees the button on his pants has now vanished and there’s nothing in the horizontal slit. The very top of his pants have curled open and there is a dark elastic waistband peeking through that is his underwear.

“Okay, I, um, I get the point,” Professor Dolton says nervously. “I’m a great professor, I don’t need much. Point proven. Can I move on, now?” his voice cracks through.

“You are leading his nation and can go on by the very power of your presence. And you’re correct, you don’t need much, like that zipper.”

This time the hollow click that pops into the air is accompanied by a zipper sound that is descending as if it’s being pulled down. He can feel his pants have popped open at the zipper and when he looks down, the zipper is gone. Now, more of his dark underwear is seen. The fabric is clearly shown beneath his pants and it swells near the bottom where his penis is securely held in.

“Ummmm,” is all the professor manages to say while swaying his arms from side to side and moving his legs to the extent that he can with nervous, periodic movements.

“Now, don’t you see professor, don’t you see how you can help the world?”

“Yep, I got it. We’re all good here,” he says emphatically moving his head up and down as red begins to flush through his cheeks.

He can see some of the class is taking notice of his upper torso. The bulk of muscle defined through the length of his arms and his thick chest hair merges between gray and dark as it extends down his chest and his stomach that is concretely rippled with the strong abs that can clearly be seen beneath the hair heavily sprouted from his skin tightly shaped over his muscles.

“Good,” the voice says. “I’m glad you understand. So, you won’t be needing those pants.”

He can feel the very instant they vanish. He looks down and sees he’s just in his underwear. There’s a series of gasps that deeply inhale through his class.

He wants to curl his hands over his crotch or at least his stomach but can’t.

He has very strong calves and every one can now see he’s hairy everywhere. The dark hairs are ruggedly layed out overtop his calves emboldened with solid muscle extending all the way up to his dark blue briefs. And his briefs are swelled, tightly, over his rounded and high butt cheeks, and the bottom of his round ass is seen. Hair gets slightly darker as it extends into the bulge of his underwear.

“Okay, this is great. Really, it’s fan-fuckin-tastic. I get it. Can I move on with my day?”

“You can always move on with your day, professor,” the voice says. “Look at how defined and professional you are. Although, you would be more professional if you stood up straight.”

He jolts his body up and his arms are now tightly held at the sides of his body.

“See how much better that is, professor.”

“Um, ye-yes. Yes, I do.” He practically exhales his words. His voice is fading through like this nervous strand that is unfurling from the base of his throat.

“Great. See, professor, you don’t need much. Don’t you look great standing there in just your bare essentials?”

“Yep,” the professor agrees, quickly, “yes, I do.”

“Although, it’s not entirely your bare essentials, is it?”

“Um, well, yes, yes, it is,” Professor Dolton says in almost a pleading voice. “Don’t you see, I’m confident. I’m confident and ready to start the day,” he says more loudly in a demanding voice.

“Well, you certainly sound it,” the voice says. “And that is a great pair of underwear you are standing in.”

“Um, great, thank you,” the professor says with red beginning to flush into his cheeks.

“I don’t know, though, professor. You are suddenly certainly not acting confident. I’m wondering if even need to be wearing that pair of underwear.”

He widens his eyes. “Um, yes, yes I do. I’m sure I can teach.”

“Well, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Great, um, well, class,” he says looking around trying to keep his composure. Sweat begins to collect at his forehead.

“Why are you sweating, professor. Do you need to cool down? Maybe___”

“NO! No, I’m good. Really, I can go on.” He says looking around.

Some of his class is smiling. Most are now looking straight at him, amused. His stomach is sinking.

“I don’t know professor. I think you’d be much more comfortable standing in nothing but your potential.”

“I’m good, really,” the professor says. “I’m fuckin’ great, man. Truly.”

“No, I think you’ll benefit a lot from being in your natural state.”

“No, truly, I’m fine. It’s all great.”

He hears now laughter coming from the class.

“No, professor, I really don’t think you need that underwear.”

And then, pop.

“Oh, my God,” someone exclaims as others take an even bigger gasp.

He can feel his dick drop and sway slightly. He widens his eyes and is able to slowly look down.

Everything is revealed, now. How his body hair gets even darker as it merges into his pubic region and is heavily grown out into this bush just above the long, thick shaft of his dick and the skin of his circumcised penis pulled up above his helmet where the red bulbous shape is in clear view from the slit at the base of it. His testicles are hanging beneath his dick and hang like two marbles stretched into skin that connects into his dick.

The two boulders of his glutes are perfectly rounded. Hair is everywhere. All over his ass, his legs, his arms, grizzled over his muscular shape.
David’s New Friends

December 15th, 2025

David Bishop is a husky, bearish guy. He has a slightly shaggy head of hair. It is very short, but the front of it wisps up in tuffs and the rest of it covers his entire head in a thick layer of dark brown. His eye brows are somewhat bushy, but finely shaped at the same time and perfectly balance out his eyes that are slightly sunken in and have this brute kind of appearance and pupils surrounded by a copper tone that shine, the same kind of shine you’d see from pennies shimmering at the bottom of a wishing well. He has a nice, thick beard that is cropped just right and covers the entire bottom of his face and is perfectly lined past his jaw line. His physique is far from muscular. Definitely more of the teddy-bear variety. At least everyone that’s dated him has said that.

Today, David has on a knitted vest that has thick, vertical lines of brown and white over top a bright yellow, long-sleeved buttoned-down shirt with the collar folded over the top of that. And he is wearing his faded blue jeans that kind of hugs his bottom figure. Not too much, just enough to showcase his husky physique and one could plainly see that, for a guy with bulk, he has a nicely shaped ass. And he has on his black-and-white sneakers.

He is walking out in the city. He usually walks with his headphones on and sometimes, does it just to walk. And right now, he has a mission. He must go to the grocery store and pick up some cake for his friend’s birthday party. Another friend of his made him swear that it looks like a cake she made. But that was Steph.

As he’s making his way forward, he sees a group of young guys that look like they’re in their mid-to-late 20s. They look familiar. In a way that gives him a little chill. He thinks they’re that gang that’s been making trouble around the area. Well, “gang” isn’t really the right word. They haven’t killed anyone, just made things a little more difficult for some people. You don’t really get gangs out here.

He’s just gonna keep looking down. They’re getting closer. Maybe he’ll smile and nod.

They’re all dressed up in leather jackets and jeans and have this kind of immature appearance. Like they just wanna make trouble. But David shouldn’t judge.

He then nods and smirks at one of them. A guy with jet-black hair that’s kind of swoopy and powder blue eyes and a chiseled face. Not a bad lookin’ dude. In fact, they’re all rather attractive gents. The main guy, at least that’s what he looks like to David, the one with blue eyes, is wearing a wearing a black top. Much like the one you’d see in a certain late-seventies musical. The guy nods back and then lifts up his hand and points at his headphones while saying something, making a genuine look of interest.

He really shouldn’t, but against his better judgment, he takes out one of his headphones and says “Huh?” in a kind of playful, innocent way to make him look more approachable.

“Whatcha listenin’ to?”

“Um, I think it’s one of the latest top 40s. It’s just one of those poppy kind of days, ya know?” David says, laughing a bit, but there is a slight nervousness hiding underneath his voice.

The guy isn’t shy about showing a devilish grin. He wants something, David knows it.

And the rest of his little gang look on at him.

“Nice phone,” one of ’em says.

“Thanks,” he says.

“So, uh, where you headed?”

“I’m going to get a cake. But it has to be soon.”

“Man’s in a rush,” one of ’em says.

“Yeah,” another chimes in.

The main guy looks at him and says, “I get it, you gotta get goin’, right?” He asks it more like a genuine question.

The other guys start walking around him, forming a circle. This . . . isn’t good. And shit, not a lot of people are out today. It’s mid-Sunday and some cars and people go by, but they all seem to be just out of reach of David.

He walks forward, expecting them to let him pass,

“Hey,” another guy says, this one wearing a leather cap. It’s like these guys stepped out of the Fifties. He almost wants to ask how’d they feel about being the remaining extras from “Happy Days,” but decides against it. “I know you gotta split, but, we wanna talk.”

“I’m sorry?” David said as his heart starts beating quickly.

“We saw you from round the corner and we thought, hey.”

“Now there’s a guy that seems like he could be fun. You got this real cool vibe about you, bro,” one of the other guys say.

“Look, guys, I gotta go…”

He tries to walk forward again and then the main guy yells, “Hey! Don’t you know it’s kind of rude to walk away. Now, I feel hurt,” he says, smugly, as he puts out both his hands, kind of like he’s saying, ‘c’mon, man.

“I’m, ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Well, now, we can’t let you leave . . . yet.”

“Oh, c’mon guys, I gotta go,” David says, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“You don’t really wanna leave this circle, guy.”

As one of the guys says this, he takes a good look around. He is definitely outnumbered. He could call the police, but one of ’em could simply knock the phone out of his hand.

He’s getting antsy and nervous. “Okay, um, look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Yeah, we know,” the main guy says. “I’m sorry, brother, what’s your name?” he asks quickly, as if he’s expecting an answer just as quick.

“David.”

“Well . . . David, you gotta pay a price, not just apologize. We gotta know you really mean it. Don’t worry, you can keep your phone, but can you put it down please?”

“I can just put it in my pocket.”

“Just put it down on the ground, man,” one of the other guys say behind him.

He bends down and puts his phone on the ground and gets back up. Meanwhile, he’s getting more and more afraid.

“Now, about this price,” the main guy says. “One of my boys over there has a real sad story.”

“It’s sad, man,” one of ’em says behind him, almost tauntingly.

“His friend lost his favorite pair of shoes. They really mean a lot to him.”

“Yeah, like, a lot,” one of ’em to the left of David says.

“Okay, what do you want from me?”

There’s silence as he looks at David, almost like he’s feeling that David should know what he’s about to ask. Then says, “Can we have yours?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t want to disappoint us, now. Do ya . . . David?” one of the other guys say as he looks at him while tilting his head and giving him this playfully evil look of curiosity.

Not enough people. Where the hell is everyone?

David sighs. “O-okay.”

He bends down and starts untying one.

“Take your time, David,” the main guy says. “We got all day.”

“But he doesn’t, man,” one of the other guys say.

“Yeah, dude, don’t you listen?” They all then laugh like they’re sharing an inside joke.

He takes one shoe off and then unlaces the other one, quickly. He wants to get out of here. He takes the other one off and hands it to the main guy.

“Thank you, David, that was kind of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The main guy has this expression of feigned concern as he looks past David.

David looks at what the main guy is looking at. And it’s the dude whose friend needed David’s shoes. He has his hand over his mouth and is looking down at the ground while shaking his head.

“What’s the matter, man?”

“I mean,” the guy says, “The shoes are great and everything, but he’s gonna need socks to go with ’em.”

“But your friend has socks, man,” one of the others say.

“Yeah, I know, but these were very special shoes, man. My friend needs them to go in a pair.”

The main guy looks at David and tilts his head at him.

“I’m sorry to be such a bother, but,” he glimpses down at his feet, “do you mind?”

David hesitantly bends down again and takes off both his socks and then gives them to the main guy.

“Okay, guys, I, ugh, I gotta go, now.”

“Yeah, we know, man, you keep saying that,” one of the other guys say.

There’s a slight chuckle among the group.

“Well, we certainly don’t wanna stop you,” one of the guys say.

“Yeah, really,” one of the others say.

“Hey,” one of ’em chimes in. This guy, David hasn’t heard from, yet. “That’s a real nice vest, man.”

“Ugh-h-h-h, thanks,” David says, looking down at it then back up at him.

“Where’d you get it?”

“You can find this online. There’s a shop around the corner.”

This guy puts his fingers to his chin and then goes, “Huh,” while eyeing the vest. “Huh, huh, huh”

David doesn’t like where this is going.

“Well, that one specifically, looks great, and it’s just my size, too.”

“Yeah, man,” another says. “It’d look nice on you.”

“And, hey, I can buy it, but we’re buds, right, David? Pals,” the guy asking about the vest says. “I mean, I feel we’ve become close to you,” he says as he clasps his heart with both hands and nods his head, really playing it up.

“So-o-o-o?”

“Oh, I feel like such a heel asking, but,” he stops for a second, forming this questioning, cautious face. “Can I have yours, bro?”

He looks around again. Again, not enough people. And all these guys look like they could pounce on poor David any second.

He then leans his hands towards his vest and takes them away, not sure if he should. He holds onto the bottom of the vest, still deciding. Then, pulls it up over his head and hands it to the guy.

They all start clapping, while saying things like, “Good sport, David,” “Way to go,” “We knew we’d like you.”

The guy takes it from him and looks at it while giving it this approving look. “Good man, David.”

“Okay, ugh, I . . . gotta go, um, guys. Anything else?”

Why did he just ask that?

“Cool belt buckle,” another guy says. “Is it attached to the belt?”

“Um, no, they’re, uh, separate,” David answers.

“Nice, really nice. But, I’m sure they go best together, right?” the guy asks.

David looks over to the guy and says, “Well, um, you don’t really need ’em together.”

“I know that, David. But, you seem to have a really good sense of style. You just got it together, man.”

“Yeah,” another says. “We could learn a thing or two from our friend David, here.”

“I mean, you just got the right color,” the guy asking about the belt says, “ya know.” He adds those last two words in a tone that seems suggestive as he gives David this imposing look.

“Um, yeah.”

“So?” the guy says, lifting up his hand waiting for David to finish his sentence.

“So-o-o-o-o-o,” David says, his heart beating faster, now.

The guy looks down at the belt and the buckle and then back at him.

“You-u-u-u-u-u want ’em?” David asks.

“Wow!” the guy says, “you are very perceptive.”

David takes off the buckle and then unfastens his belt while the guy says, “Really, David, thank you. This means a lot, man. Won’t forget it, seriously.”

David slowly pulls out the belt from the loops of his pants and then walks over and gives it to him. This is his chance. He could make a run for it. But the other guys look at him like they know what he’s thinking.

“You naughty boy, David,” one of the guys looking at him says. “You were thinking of leaving us, huh?”

“Ugh, no. Not at all.”

The guy frowns by pushing out his lower lip.

“And leave your phone behind? Not smart, man.”

David nods and backs up. But the guy that was frowning at him puts his hand up and says, “Wait. Wa-a-a-a-ait, wait, wait, wait.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I thought of a way you could make it up to me.”

“Um, okay, how?”

The guy is looking up and down at David’s yellow shirt. David looks down at the shirt and then back up at him. They won’t possibly ask for that, David thinks. What do these guys wanna do?

The guy eyeing David’s shirt taps his finger to his lips and goes, “hm-m-m-m-m-m-m. You just got a really good sense of style, David. I mean, really. And that is an awesome shirt, man.”

“It is, though,” one of the other guys say.

“I mean, how do you throw this stuff together?”

“Um, I don’t know. I just get dressed like all of you.”

They all laugh.

“Yeah, we all get dressed.”

“Just like we all undress,” one of the other guys say.

He doesn’t like that that other comment was added. God, why did they say that? What’s they’re end goal, here? That, David shudders to think.

“I’m sorry, dude, I know we’re askin’ a lot of you, but, ugh, can I have your shirt, man?”

“What?” David says, laughing nervously.

“Your shirt. You really don’t wanna make me ask again, do you, David?”

David looks at the guy and at the ground a few times as he slowly brings up his hands and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Atta boy, David,” one of the other guys say.

He reveals the under shirt. A white tank-top with his thick chest hair above it. He pulls his shirt up out of his pants and unbuttons the cuffs before removing it, completely, and giving it to him. Now, more of David’s body is seen. His nipples are easily outlined and his pecs hang through the shirt like nice, thick chucks of meat. And anyone can plainly see, now, David is quite a hairy guy.

“Wow, dude, thank you.”

“I don’t know, man,” one of the other guys say.

“What?” the guy that took David’s shirt says.

“I mean, like you said, David has a nice sense of style. And only he would know you gotta wear that white undershirt underneath that yellow shirt.”

“Yeah, man,” another guy says. “It really pulls the whole outfit together.”

“Okay, guys, really.”

“What, David?” the guy that took his shirt says with fake concern. “I mean, you know they’re right, right?”

David looks around and reluctantly nods.

“So, I think you know what I’m gonna ask, David,” he says.

David nervously looks down at his tank top and then around the street.

“What, David? It’s not a bad thing to help your friends,” the guy holding the shirt says. “And anyone that walks past can see that.”

Nervously, David curves his fingers at the bottom of the undershirt and pulls up. Unveiling a stomach and chest that are completely covered in hair. There’s even this thicker line of hair that traces underneath his meaty pecs and then meets at a happy trail that’s going all the way down his stomach and into his jeans.

David gives the guy his undershirt.

“Great.”

“Well, gents,” the main guy said. “I think we should get going, yeah?”

Internally, David has a big sigh of relief. He’ll look funny without a shirt and shoes, but at least he won’t have less than that.

“Yeah,” another guys says. “David’s gotta get goin’, right?”

David nods his head as this big smile that practically swallows his face.

David is about to reach for his phone.

“Oh, wait, man,” one of the other guys says.

David stops. His heart literally jumps.

“What?” the main guy says.

“We got that party tonight, man.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Um, what did you say, bro? You, um, you wearin’ those jeans, right?”

David still is bent down reaching for his phone. Not sure if he should or not.

The guy clicks his tongue and says, “I don’t know, man. I mean, these jeans haven’t been washed in a few days.”

“Well, you got other pairs, right, bro?” another of ’em asks.

“You know what, you’re right,” the guy responds.

David continues to lean for his phone.

“Wait, bro,” another guy says, “Didn’t you say that your girlfriend is borrowing your pair of jeans?”

“Oh, that’s ri-i-i-i-i-ight. She is.”

“Well, did you have another pair?”

“I don’t know, man.”

David’s heart starts pounding again. This red begins to flush out his cheeks.

“I mean, I got my other pairs, but none of ’em really have that look, ya know? I mean, like, our friend, David, here, right? I mean, man, just look at those jeans.”

“Yeah, man,” another dude says. “You gotta admit, David really knows how to pick ’em.”

“Hey, where’d you get those jeans, David?”

He quickly turns around and looks up at the guy. “Um, online,” he says, almost breathlessly. “I mean, really, you can find ’em anywhere. Really, you can.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. You’re smart, David.”

“Great.”

David’s about to turn around when he notices the guy is putting fingers to his chin. “Bu-u-u-u-u-u-ut, I mean, I don’t think they’re gonna have your touch, David.”

“Yeah, dude. Only you can rock a pair a jeans like that, bro”

“For sure.”

“I mean,” David says, “you, you don’t want mine.”

The guy asking about his jeans gives him this look like a light bulb went off above his head. “Actually, now that you mention it, David.”

“Oh, c’mon, man, you don’t want my pants.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

“When he’s right, he’s right,” another guy says.

“But, dude, this is David we’re talking about here,” the main guy says. “I mean, look at what all he’s given us. He’s a really selfless guy.”

The guy asking about the pants squints his eyes and shakes his finger at the main guy. “You do have a point, man.”

“Oh, c’mon guys, seriously?” David asks, almost exclaiming it.

“David, calm down, man,” he says. “We’re not gonna have you do anything that is gonna make you feel uncomfortable,” he adds.

“Yeah,” another guy says.

“Although, sometimes, we just gotta be pushed.”

“He’s right,” the guy says, eyeing his pants. “Be a pal, David. Can I have your jeans?”

David twiddles his fingers and bobs back and forth. He nervously smiles and reaches for the button of his pants and slowly begins to slide it out of place. This is followed by him pulling his zipper down. The very sound of it is making David shudder. He then pulls his jeans down, exposing his white underwear, and thick legs. He pulls his feet out of them, one at a time, and then hands them to the guy.

David walks backward while covering his crotch.

“David, you seem like a proud guy,” another guy says.

“I g-guess.”

“Then why you standing like that, bro? Pull your back up.”

David stands up.

“There ya go. And put your hands to your sides. That’s how real confident men stand.”

“Yeah, dude, I read that in an article.”

David looks down and up a few times and then cautiously puts his hands to his sides, pushing his very hairy chest and belly forward. He is now in his underwear in the middle of the street.

“Oh, you’re wallet, dude,” the guy says.

“Yeah, we’re not thieves, David.”

The guy pulls David’s wallet out and then brings it over.

As David takes his wallet from the guy, he tilts his head and goes, “Huh.”

David doesn’t like this. What the guy is looking at is David’s underwear.

“Man, that’s a nice pattern on your underwear, dude.”

“Um, thanks,” David says, quickly, taking the wallet.

“I mean, they’re just white underwear, but I think we’ve learned by now, no one does it like David,” the main guy says.

“Hey, dude, what’s your underwear drawer look like?” the main guy asks one of the other guys.

The other guy seethes in air through his teeth and says, “It’s lookin’ pretty slim, man. I mean, I got a lot of colors, but not your typical tighty whities like David here,” the guy says pointing at David’s last remaining piece of clothing.

David starts breathing hard.

“David, you okay, bro?” the guy pointing at his underwear said.

“Um, yeah.”

“Hey, ya know,” another guy says. “I heard somewhere that there’s a kind of meditation.”

“What kind of meditation?” another guy asks in that feigned curiosity.

“Well, you see, you’re calm, you’re collected, and it works.”

“Really?” one the guys say.

“Yeah,” the guy that brought up the meditation says. “Exce-e-e-e-ept, you gotta be wearing a bit less than David over here.”

David looks at him, quickly.

“It’s, it’s okay, man.”

“David, you’re our friend man,” another guy says.

“And friends know when friends are in trouble.”

“Yeah, we care, David. Really, we do, and you need to de-stress.”

“It’s um, it’s okay, really. I’m, I’m calm,” David says.

“Man, you are just screaming for help and you don’t even know it,” one of ’em says.

“Okay, look,” the main guy says. “You should really try it. I mean, you don’t wanna disappoint, us, do you?”

“Yeah, dude. You won’t like how that ends,” one of ’em says as they close in on him.

David’s breathing becomes a bit heavier as he notices the guys are walking closer towards him, tightening up the circle, almost breathing on him.

“Really, David, we’re doing this because we care,” one of ’em says, all looking at David with a bit more menace hidden underneath their sarcastic expressions.

David has his hands at his crotch again.

“David, I thought we talked about this,” the main guy says, eyeing David’s hands.

David removes his hands from his crotch and stands at attention.

“Great, now, I don’t wanna see that back slump and I don’t wanna see those hands anywhere else but at your sides,” the main guy says. “Okay, David? Or we’re gonna have to,” he squints his eyes cautiously. “Or we’re gonna have to get violent.”

David nods.

“Okay, now,” the main guy says, putting his hands on his shoulders, “Just calm down. Keep calm, okay, David?”

David nods his head again.

“Now, close your eyes.”

David doesn’t like this.

“Close . . . your . . . eyes, David” the main guy says more threateningly.

David closes his eyes.

“Now just think of the ocean. Are you thinking of it, David?” the main guy asks as David still feels his hands on his arms.

David nods.

“Good. Keep thinking of that, okay? Just keep thinking of the waves going ba-a-a-a-ack and fo-o-o-o-orth.”

As the main guy is talking, he feels another pair of hands on his underwear. And feels them pry into his waist band.

Then feels the main guy take his right hand of his arm and put it over his heart. It’s beating very fast.

“Just think of sound of the wa-a-a-aves,” the main guy almost whispers.

The prying fingers are now pulling at his underwear.

“Just think of the clouds and the bi-i-i-i-irds. Are you picturing it, David?”

David nods quickly, as he feels the very thing he doesn’t want to feel. His underwear is beginning to be pulled down.

Instinctively, David reaches for his dick.

“David, keep your hands at your God-damn sides, all right?” the main guy says as he feels all the other guys breathing on him.

David nods his head, keeping his eyes closed.

The air is starting to kiss his butt, now, while he can feel his pubic hairs unfurling from the stress of the waist band being pulled away from them.

“I’m sorry I had to get a little mean,” the main guy says.

His shaft is now trembling a little bit from the waistband of his underwear rubbing his dick as it’s slowly being exposed.

“Now,” the main guy says, keeping his hand on his heart. “Just keep picturing the beach.”

His prick now flops up, slightly, as it now has completely escaped his underwear. His whole ass is now shown. They’re like 2 soft boulders. Smooth and rounded just like the moon. With a little bit of hair over them.

“Listen to those wa-a-a-aves, David.”

His underwear is now being pulled all the way down his legs and he can feel the pair of hands pressing against his feet. Reluctantly, David lifts them one at a time. And now, his last shred of clothing has been taken away. His cock hangs like a meaty twig from the thick curls of pubic hair and his balls are perfectly rounded into a pair shape behind his dick. He’s completely naked in the middle of the street.

David still has his eyes closed, and he can feel the main guy’s hand pull away from his heart and then feels his fingers trace the hairs all the way down his stomach.

“Keep thinking of those waives, David.,” the main guy whispers. He can still feel the body heat of the other guys tightly closed around him.

The main guy plays with David’s pubic hair, and then his hand caresses his dick.

“Woooooshhhhh,” the main guy says.

David can feel the skin of his dick being pulled forward and pushed back. Slow at first, then faster. The hand now squeezing his prick a little bit tighter. David feels another hand start to softly caress his nuts. And then two other pairs of fingers delicately trace the hair around his nipples.

David’s breathing is getting faster as he starts to feel lips over top one of his ears. Kissing it gently. The nerves on David’s ear lobe are tingling underneath the weight of very gentle breath and lips.

David’s nipples are beginning to grow sensitive and becoming erect, just like his dick in the main guy’s hand.

“Just think of the ocean,” the main guy says as his breath is nearing David’s mouth and he feels the main guy’s lips over his. David intertwines his lips with the other guy’s. Their tongues sliding over each other.

He feels other pairs of hands lift his arms up a bit and fingers start delicately tickling the hairs under his armpits, causing the skin around them to shiver.

David’s dick is growing quick now as the shaft is gasping over the head, making the slit start to get wet with pre-cum. Hands and lips all over his body. And he finds himself moaning. His stomach beginning to shudder as his penis is starting to throb in through his veins, now, underneath the grip of the main guy’s hand.

“C’mon, David,” the main guy says as he’s still kissing David. “C’mon, baby.” As the small little hairs on his ear lobe are standing on end, reaching up into warm breath and a gentle pair of lips. As his arm pits are shuddering as fingers continue to ever-so-gently tickle them. His entire body is being made to quiver. His legs begin to tremble as semen swells up in his balls still being caressed and screaming out through the shaft. The main guy’s hand continues to go back and forth. Going faster, now. Until his dick can’t take it. Like a squirt gun, it shoots strands of cum into the main guy’s hand. David moans and shudders as his dick continues to jump up in the main guy’s hand.

David leans his head on the main guy’s shoulder as his body shakes. The last strands of semen ooze out of David’s still twitching cock.

“That’s right,” the main guy whispers. “That’s right.”

The slowly pull away from David as the main guy says, “Keep your eyes closed, David.”

David shudders through the last bit of spasms in his dick.

“I’m putting your phone and your wallet in a bag,” the main guy says as he feels several pairs of hands firmly hold his arms and then force them behind his back. He feels what must be hand cuffs go around his wrists.

“Wait, wait, don’t do this,” David says.

“Sh-h-h-h-h, keep those eyes closed, David.”

He hears the cuffs lock around his wrists and then what feels like a string is placed around one of his fingers, must be the bag.

“Guys, wait!” David says.

“Keep those eyes closed for a good minute, David,” he hears the main guy say. He also hears him and his boys walk away.

“Wait! Guys, wait, please!” David says, keeping his eyes closed

He then opens his eyes and looks behind him to see the whole gang run away with every stitch of clothing he had on. And now his meaty, hairy body and dick still dripping semen and firm, full butt bouncing a little from side to side as he quickly paces his legs back and forth is all on full display. And he has no way to cover himself. He has no choice but to walk home with every part of his body fully exposed.
The Pilot Articles: Naked, Embarrassed and Consenting, Rewriting the Fantasy of Men Front and Center

December 6th, 2025

Forced-male nudity. This would be the term I would often search for in the days of Yahoo! Groups. Often drawn to titles under companies like “Academy Men” or even “Sharpshooter Studios” (granted, the latter was far more playful and softcore), I was both fascinated and turned on by situations where men found themselves not only vulnerable, but forced into often very public scenarios where their clothing is taken from them in varying ways.

For this type of fetish to work for me, it would have to start at the beginning of the situation. With a man fully dressed and seeing the realization dawn on them and they’re soon going to be naked and, often, the only one in such an exposed state. It’s more about the removal of the clothing and the tense and slow build-up even before the first article of attire is taken.

However, it’s also important that these were fictional situations. It is far more entertaining to me when everyone is a participant (including the soon-to-be-embarrassed party), but acted out with such authenticity that you can feel the tension sparked up in the quickening pulses and snapped open in the exhilarating shudders of rapid breathing.

“Sharpshooter Studios”, on the other hand, is often known (and rather notorious) for these situations where the acting is sub-par. And honestly, I kind of like that, too. There’s a certain playfulness and charm in the innocence of guys that seem very ready to participate in a fictional situation beneath the thin veil of acting out nervousness. That, I think has it’s place, too.

But, even with the more hardcore directions of “Academy Men” where uniformed men are stripped or forced to strip fashioned in the theme of leather and BDSM, I’d often stop when it got to portraying pain, despite the fact that the men being put in these scenarios were still a participant.

To me, it’s all about just embarrassment and how the clothing is removed in either playful or serious situations beneath the fiction of lights, camera, action.

So, once Pilot shed his clothes and sat down in a non-chalant, almost masculine manner of being unbothered and unashamed of letting himself be seen in this way, one of the first things I, of course, asked him about was the subject of ENM:

So, whenever I watch an ENM scene, umm, especially one with forced nudity, I tend to get kind of excited. Usually if it’s just focused on the nudity. So, you remember the movie, “Bullet” that I wrote about, umm, where Mickey Rourke forced those two dudes to strip, um, what was your take on that in that situation, do you think it was justified? And also, what is your take on them being in public like that?

Yeah, um, so I had actually completely forgotten about that scene from “Bullet” when I read the article. Um, this embarrassed-male-nudity thing is a little more about clothing than it is about nudity was my take-away. I think it always seems that clothing is like a communicative thing, right? I mean, in theory whatever clothes you choose to wear communicating something about yourself. And that has always felt like a language that I don’t quite know how to speak. So I almost wonder how much of that is, sort of, ya know, about the embarrassment part of nudity and whatever way of presenting yourself. The barrier you had against the rest of the eyes of the world is taken away rather than having something explicitly to do with nudity. That was a question that I had. I don’t know if I’m right.

You are. I mean, to me, it is about the removal of the clothing.

Yeah, but does that center around the removal of the clothing or the consequent nudity afterwards? I’m still viewing them as slightly separate things where, maybe, this could just be where my barriers around nudity are and not fundamentally being embarrassing. Somebody, someone, somewhere, some educated socialist will throw tomatoes at me for saying, Clothing is a social construct.

I was thinking, Oh, well, they can’t signal that they’re from the right side of town, anymore, right? So how much of that is playing into it? But I suppose there’s also a lot of, ya know, throw tomatoes at me, but the cultural construct around agency there, as well. They had to be forced to remove their clothes. So that can also be the kind of thing where it’s like, Oh, somebody forced you to strip. That’s the emasculating part of it. So it becomes a power thing. It’s just kind of an interesting idea, right… past a certain point, imagine how much harder it’s going to be in their circumstance where you’re just basically looking to get some clothes and a ride back to where you’re from. It almost seemed to be more difficult to run around like this (acting like he’s covering himself) the entire time as opposed to just being able to walk down the street.

Um, a-a-and, so… I love men being put in these fictional situations when there’s exposure in rather embarrassing situations. Um, what is your take on that fetish, on the ENM fetish and how, how it poses as an excitement to some people?

Yeah, I can certainly see the idea of also forcing vulnerability of any sort being appealing under certain circumstances. ‘Cause you can be guarded if you’re comfortable in your own skin. Their first layer of armor against the world getting stripped away. I can certainly see putting someone in a position where they’re suddenly a bit dependent. I feel weird executing that on somebody, though.

I mean, we’re talking fiction.

Yeah, it’s certainly an interesting way to get at just the general idea of how masculinity is presented. Right?

Umm, so you said your approach to nudity is more European. Ummmm, I actually find that to be the case as well as we are a nation founded by prudes..

Yeah.

Umm, however, growing up in this country, despite how liberal my attitude is, is towards this, I still feel that my perspective has been affected by this country’s approach to nudity. Umm, would you say the same for yourself being in America even in this age where information is everywhere, that your perspective has been affected by that, even a little?

Yeah. Yeah, certainly with my ability where I’m mostly comfortable by my own nudity, it’s definitely the case that I get startled every time male nudity is presented in any sort of media. Um, just because it is, like, men are always at least wearing a loincloth.

(we laugh)

Um, context is not super important, you know? You get the superhero movies where the superhero goes through an explosion and his uniform is mostly torn but, like, the nipples and the crotch are still covered. Every time. Doesn’t matter how the explosion happened; Doesn’t matter if the man walked through fire.

So I still get startled by it every time that happens. And I think that it’s just a product of the general prudeness around it. It’s like it still catches me off guard. Even it it’s where we have straight women be like, This is kind of nice. The fact that we seem to be slowly swinging in the other direction means that they get the same eye candy heterosexual men have been getting in mass media forever.

Exactly.

But it’s still mostly so closed off and conservative around that kind of stuff. There’s always that moment where it’s like, Wow, that’s surprising. And then don’t usually examine why it’s surprising. It just sort of catches me every time.

So, umm, in my article, Why So Private Dick (shameless plug) I talked about hooow frontal nudity, how frontal male nudity is starting to be more prevalent.

Yeah.

Umm, however, when it comes to ENM scenes umm, or scenes concerning forced exposure, there’s still a long ways to go. You, being a heterosexual male, do you, yourself, see this in films and TV and the media in general and, again, what is your take on that?

Um, I don’t know how much media there is that I’ve consumed like that, recently, where the embarrassment is part of the component around it. So, prior to reading your article, I don’t think I’ve actually thought about it in a long time.

Yeah. I mean, not being embarrassed by my own nudity, I just wind up getting confused about it when I see stuff like that were it’s like, you don’t have to take those short little steps around when you’re naked.

Like, why don’t you just walk? I mean, even if you’re gonna keep yourself covered, it is possible to keep your hand in front of your crotch or both hands in front of your crotch and carry a normal gait.

But the artistic purpose seems to be, Well, let’s make it relatable for all the men in the audience by having the character completely change the way that they’re physically presenting while in the nude beyond the fact that their clothing is missing. And that does seem to be how it gets played for laughs but also, I know friends of mine who would be really deeply embarrassed to have their pants tear while they’re on a boat with their friends. I mean, even if it’s, like, one ass cheek coming out because your swim trunks tore. ‘Cause, you know, you sat on a rock that was sharper or rougher than you were expecting, something like that. I definitely have friends who would be just wearing a towel for the rest of the time and be deeply embarrassed. And I wouldn’t try to be making them uncomfortable in that circumstance. I have learned my lesson about teasing other people around their barrier. But, it is still sort of surprising to come across that. Especially ‘cause, like, on average, we all kind of look similar. Like, the shoulders to hips ratio of most men is roughly the same. I almost wonder how much of it also men being specifically insecure about their penis? I do wonder how much an influence pornography has had on that? ‘Cause, obviously, those guys are under the kind of selective pressure where, it’s like….

Ye-e-e-e-es…

There’s a million men in Hollywood and those that get cast are three standard deviations out from the norm. Where, it’s a little bit weird thinking that there’s an ideal anyways, because that’s for heterosexual men. If you’re endowed like that, a foot long, and, like, a Coke can thickness? You’re going to hurt most of your partners if you’re not extremely careful. And even at my not pornstar-size self with that, I have to be careful. And so, it really seems to have the comparison issue and then there’s the men-are-never-supposed-to-be-naked issue. I think that, sort of, cross-legged position makes it feel much more acute for folks and even having to walk differently on camera. Like, I would actually be very curious to talk to the director and the actors and be like, Did someone have to consciously direct you to walk that way? Or was it, Oh, I’m naked, therefore I walk differently, I move differently? Because I think that would be somewhat insightful to learn the perspective from the actors and the directors. Did the actors need coaching on how to be embarrassed while being nude?

I mean, I’ve seen pornstars, though, that are less hung than that. (Directing my attention to his penis.) Ya know, umm, but, actually, umm, talking about that fetish, um, that, that scene I wrote about in “Righteous Gemstomes,”..

Yeah.

When I talked about the beefy redhead not showing anything..

Yeah.

And, and, I equated that well, if a woman was put in that situation, how often, how often is it that we see a woman even in that kind of situation where she’s forced to show everything.. Now, you, you see it plenty of times, I think I remember, even umm, this one movie “Lovely and Amazing” with Dermot Mulroney and, umm, this British actor, I can’t remember her name, if you, if you saw her face, you’d know who she is, and there’s a scene in there where she’s completely naked and you see, you see her full frontal, right? Umm, while Dermot is in a sheet, half covered in a sheet. And, I remember in an interview, he was saying, Yeah, I mean, like, we, we were both pretty exposed in that scene… And I remember thinking, Mother fucker, what do you mean you were both pretty exposed? You were covered by a sheet, she, she was showing full bush. What do you mean?

Yeah, yeah. And, and it says something about: Nude female, desirable; Nude man, objectionable, where there’s this, like, weird construct.

It is one of those things that just because I’m insecure about how I look, I’m still fairly comfortable with it. Like, okay, so there’s only a limited amount that I can do about this, I’m just going to try to act as comfortably with myself.

I think that’s a perfect point to end this article on. This is an interesting contrast. The feelings Pilot says about himself. He’s a very attractive guy. But it comes down to a few things.

We are all our own worst critics. More often than not, no one can tear us down better than ourselves. The mirror can be your best friend or a savage beast that’s hell bent on making you feel like you’re the ugliest person in the room. But, coming from someone that deals with these kinds of demons, I think it’s important to recognize these fears and doubts. But only see them and see what they’re doing to you. And then realize that that is not reality. This is not your reality. You are better than that.

To me, being comfortable with one’s self is really the epitome of this whole forced-nude-male fetish.

I keep stressing fictional. And that’s my stance on it. These stories I write, this fetish I have, I’m fully aware that it’s most likely an extension of my perspective. I’m not going to say that it’s due to an insecurity or that it’s because I’m upset about something and I’m taking it out on other people. I really fuckin’ hate it when harmless fetishes are devolved into nothing more than the result of some emotional damage. That’s the same excuse several people use for those that are part of the queer community. Oh, you weren’t loved enough, so that’s why you’re this way. No, fuck that noise.

I’m really all about the fantasy. This situation? It’s not something I want to see played out in reality. And what Pilot said about him not wanting to make a friend more uncomfortable in an already deeply vulnerable state? That’s what I think, too.

To me, the ENM fetish is far more effective when everyone is in on it. Where everyone has a real desire for the outcome. That, to me, is far better and spicier.

Again, it gets me back to the same point I’ve written about before. Be the change you want to see in the world. When it comes to the embarrassment fetish (especially when it involves forced removal of clothing in varying ways) there’s still just way too much focus on women. I say, create it yourself, in any way shape or form. Form communities and gather people that are just as passionate about this fetish as you and just write it. Film it. Just create something that is entirely your own and something that not only would probably be a turn-on, but something you can feel great that you accomplished, that you contributed to the world.

That is my take on ENM.
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.
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.
Kelson’s Got Nothin’

February 4th, 2023

“He-hello? Is this thing on,” Kelson nervously says while he taps the mic.

Currently, Kelson is trying to perform his act, on stage at a local comedy club. He’s tried to do this a few times, but has bombed. Tonight, is yet, another attempt. What Kelson doesn’t know is that tonight is a very special night at the club. You see, a group of people just got off the bus. And these people have certain… abilities. All held in their grasp are wax voodoo dolls that they can use to mystically project onto anyone. And tonight, it’s focused on Kelson.

Kelson bounces back and forth saying, “Look at me, I’m a kite.” He laughs, nervously, at his own joke.

“You SUCK!” someone from the audience says.

“You’ve been up there for fifteen minutes, man!”

“Hey,” Kelson says with a shaking voice, “I don’t go to your work and tell you how to do your job, do I?” He doesn’t say this with a lot of confidence. He speaks just above a whisper.

The audience member he says this to rolls his eyes. Kelson knows he’s dying up here. It’s all he can do to try and not to perspire as much as he is.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two audience members talking and side-eyeing him. Then, he swears he hears one of them say, just under his breath, “Watch this.”

Kelson sees him look right at him. Kelson looks at the audience member, trying to look intimidating. But all he can muster are eyes that are pleading from inside tense sockets.

“Hey, buddy!”

Kelson looks off to the side and looks back at him. “Ye-yes?”

While holding what looks like some kind of wax figure, the audience member lifts up the back of his hand and jerks it forward.

Kelson is pulled forward as a single strip of his shirt rips itself off his body. His flesh popping open and a sliver of his nipple is peaking through.

Kelson looks down and looks back up.

“Oh, okay,” he says, not knowing the the fuck is going on, “well, folks, my time is up!” Kelson says lifting up his hand. Right after he says this, another strip of cloth rips itself away from his shirt. This one on the other side. The side of his other nipple can be seen.

“Oh, no you don’t!” another audience member off in the distance says.
Kelson’s arm freezes. His entire body freezes. His arm is then propped down by some kind of force.

“Why don’t you entertain us!” another audience member says.

“Yeah!” another audience member says. “And for everything we don’t like, well….”

Kelson can’t see what’s going on. It’s just dark beneath the lights. But then the bottom half of him is thrust forward while the button on his shorts flies off quickly, the top his shorts suddenly spreading open further. This is followed by the head of the zipper snapping off and the zipper, itself, is ripping wide open, exposing his underwear. He has no belt on, and the shorts are loose, so this causes them to fall right to the ground. The shorts sliding all the down his legs, putting his underwear in full view.

There’s a few wolf whistles and some saying, Yeah, baby!

Kelson’s heart expands open in his chest. Blooming in this cold nervousness that runs a chill through his body.

“Oh, okay, let me ummmm,” his voice is shaking.

Another strip of fabric is ripped away from his shirt. This one in the middle. It lifts his shirt up, flashing his chest for a second and goes all the way up to just beneath his collar and then falls back down.

“Hey, did you, ughh, did you hear about the one…”

Another strip of fabric flies off his shirt, flapping it forward like a weighted curtain.

“I’m trying here,” he says as yet, another strip of fabric flies off his shirt. His heart pounding, his nerves shattering underneath his skin as, piece by piece, more of his chest is showing.

“More like dying!” one audience member laughs.

The crowd then laughs while another another strip of fabric flies off his shirt. The sudden ripping sound tearing through his mind. Almost his entire chest is showing now.

“Well, umm,” he says as his body is jerked downward while his collar pops open and then what remains of his shirt tears down his body, savagely whipping down his arms. He nearly jumps as it is brought down to the ground.

His shorts tear open underneath his feet while his loafers and socks slide right off. His clothing drags themselves to the side of the stage. Now he’s just in his underwear.

“Say something!” one of the audience members say as Kelson can feel his butt giggle while a small piece of fabric is torn away from it.

“Well, ummmm,” he nervously says.

A big chunk of his underwear comes flying off. It reaches just up above the waist band.

“If you don’t say something funny in the next five seconds, you’re gonna lose that underwear!” one of the audience members yells.

“Okay, ummm.”

“FIVE!” the audience collectively yells.

“Wait, umm.”

“FOUR!”

“Okay, how about those airports, eh!?”

“THREE!”

Kelson’s heart is nearly exploding out of his chest. He desperately runs through his mind.

“TWO!”

“Ummm.”

“ONE!”

“Wait!” Kelson yells, defensively putting his hand up nervously cocking his head to the side.

“Too late!” an audience member yells.

And then, both sides of his waist band rip open while the underwear whips right off of him, causing his now exposed dick to bounce and flop upward. He doesn’t even have time to change positions. All he can think now is not only is he nervous and bombing, but he’s now on stage, in public, without a stitch of clothing on. He wonders how long they’re gonna keep him like this.
Ghost Hunter Exposed

February 2nd, 2023

The camera crew is ready. Not a single lamp is on in the room to ensure that the only thing giving this room any kind of glow is the camera light. They’re actually waiting in the dark, right now while Kaster Prichard is “prepping himself.” Which he’s been doing for about fifteen minutes now. To say that his crew is getting restless is putting it mildly. All he’s doing is just making a series of sounds with his mouth. The stereotypical things you’d picture when an “actor” is getting ready for a scene.

He then says, “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Finally,” someone says under their breath.

“Tony, I know that was you!” Kaster says. He doesn’t say anything past that, but just makes his voice stern with the bitter curves of a tongue lashing out like a viper.

Tony sighs and then says, “Okay, ready in three, two….”

He whispers the word, “one,” while holding up his index finger. The camera and the light turn on and suddenly captures Kaster in this solitary and eerie glow that takes possession of the walls around him.

He snaps into character, leans in and says, “This is Kaster Prichard. Actually airing live, right here, in the Holland house.” He then says in a far more subtle voice, “No one’s been in this house for over ten years. Yet, still, here it stands. Even with plans for demolition four years ago, it never came to be after a series of accidents.”

He looks into the camera while making that point sink in. “Ten years ago, a group of people lived in this home. No one knew a lot about them. They were as mysterious as the house, itself. And then one day, they just… disappeared.”

A series of ghostly moans comes floating in from the dark beyond the doorway.

“That, ladies and gentleman, is what people have been reported to hearing. Especially when the hour strikes past midnight.”

One of his crew rolls his eyes. They don’t sigh. They just silently do so and shake their head. Not believing that they went to an ivy league school just to film some pompous asshole pretend to be a “psychic.”

“Now, let’s…”

Kaster’s voice trails off as the moans get louder. Not only that, but there is a wind that starts blowing through the room they’re in. All the windows are closed and there’s no fan on. Yet there’s still a strong breeze. One that almost seems to go right through Kaster’s bones.

Kaster sighs heavily and yells, “CUT!” while stomping his foot and thrashing his head forward in a fit of anger.

But the camera keeps rolling, the light’s still on.

“Are you def!” Kaster yells. “I said CUT!” He yells this even louder. His voice clawing out of his throat and practically shooting fire from his mouth.

But the camera still rolls. In fact, everyone is staying in the same position.

Kaster arches his eyebrow. A flinch snaps into his face as his eyes compress, tightly, as the door slams behind him.

There are now howls attaching themselves to this breeze that’s getting even stronger. Kaster’s hair is beginning to wisp back, as if he’s holding his head out of a moving car.

“Wha-what’s going on here?” Kaster says, his voice no longer boisterous. It’s shrinking back into his throat.

He looks around, trying to see where that’s coming from. That’s when he feels it. It’s this something that’s weight into him. It almost feels like a series of grasps that are tugging at him. It’s not pulling him in any direction, it’s just this invisible touch of hands that seem to almost be reaching inside of him.

“We didn’t pay for this. WHO PAID FOR___”

Kaster’s yelling is cut short as his words run back inside his mouth on the race marks of a gasp. A piece of his shirt has just been ripped right off. It’s on his upper shoulder. The flap of fabric is carried away into the dark.

He swallows as he looks around.

“Who-who’s doing this?” Kaster says.

He then feels his collar expand open from beneath his chin. Feeling like a button has been snapped off.

“Hello?”

That word sinks into his quivering tongue as the buttons on both his sleeves are snatched up from the stitching. One after the other. Kaster’s head turns from one sleeve to the other as he sees the ends suddenly pop open. He looks forward. He feels his left nipple. Feels this wind blowing past it. He looks down and sees that another small piece of his shirt has been ripped off. He hears another piece rip. The sudden tearing sound screaming in his ears as he jolts his head to his other nipple which is now also exposed.

He tries to walk backward. But realizes he can’t. His legs feel heavy. His feet feel like they’re apart of the floor.

The buckle of his belt jerks open. The clanking of the buckle dangling from the loosened belt. His breathing is getting rushed as he feels the button on his pants snapping off. The waist band where the button once was, quickly splits into two open flaps.

The entire right side of his collar lifts up and, moving diagonally, tears a half circle around his neck and flies off. His eyes expand. “Who is doing this?” His words quiver on a tone that crawls up through this throat.

The entire center of his shirt bursts open. In quick succession, the buttons are pulled and yanked. The stitching stretched into oblivion. The left side of his shirt opens up past his shoulder, showing the entire right side of his chest. His stomach and the meaty flap of skin his nipple is attached to quivers above his quickly beating heart. The right side of his shirt stays mostly tucked while the left side has been pulled all the way out.

This is followed by a small, little tear ripping off his shirt from the fluttering left side. Then another. Then another.

The entire back of his shirt is pulled in two, splitting open this quick-moving tear that speeds all the way up to his collar. Once it reaches his collar, the suddenly two separated pieces of his shirt rapidly slide of his shuddering shoulders and all the way down his arms until they are just pulled up through the air and are eaten by the dark, disappearing forever.

His eyes widen. He looks down as he feels a pulling. The head of his zipper is pulling forward. It’s being moved up and down as it’s expanding away from his pants. He’s trying to reach his hands towards it, but this wind is getting stronger, nearly prying his arms apart. He hears a ting as he sees the head snap off. The teeth of the zippier extend a quarter of the way down. His gray briefs escaping into the light. He has to strain himself just to reach his arms not even a third of the way.

His zipper moves down a little further as he hears that sound, the metallic vibrating sound of his descending zipper. It then reaches all the way down. The seams of his underwear peaking through the center of his pants. Then, a small patch of fabric is snatched away from his pants. On the right side, just underneath his underwear. Then the knee rips off.

His eyes go wide as his pants start to descend by themselves. Creases fold into deepening layers as, slowly, the pants are being dragged downward, sliding off the sides of his underwear. The pants go halfway down his legs.

He still can’t move his hands any further as the howling wind gets stronger. He’s standing there with his pants halfway down his legs, his gray underwear hugging his front pouch and firmly holding his buttocks into place.

He feels his pants pull from behind him. A ripping shudders through him. A ripping from somewhere, but he can’t tell where. All he knows is that it has to be his pants. The tearing and ripping continues as his trousers are feeling looser around his legs. Their grasp can’t hold on much more. He then sees where the tearing his occurring. It’s moving up the front center of both legs. The material flapping backward, brushed back by this mysterious wind. But the wind is now getting strong enough to where it carries that tearing the rest of the way and his pants quickly open up and fly off to the side.

His stomach and chest are trembling as the wind is blowing past him. A fleck of his underwear is snatched off. Directly underneath the left side of the waist band. He tries to move his hands forward, but still can’t. A bigger chunk is ripped open. This one close enough to where a fumbling shadow of his penis can be seen.

Then, a small hole forms at the tip of his underwear, exposing a small piece of red from the bulbous helmet of his circumcised dick. The flaps of his underwear pry themselves away in different directions. Seeming to purposely show the shape and contour of his shaft and how it extends from his testicles. They pry further, pulling harder, until the fabric is stretched thin, withering it down to a silhouette of gray. It tears as the threads are pulled away from each other. A tearing is occurring on either side of his briefs. Slowly moving up to his waistband.

Kaster’s eyes expand as the bursts open like a pilot light has just been turned on from inside his head. His underwear is feeling loose as the torn-open portions are quickly flapping against his inner thighs.

His breath is nearly stolen from him as he still tries to cover himself, but the wind, the howling, haunted wind is pushing him in this fury.

With one single swift motion, his briefs explode open on his right thigh. It’s pushing up against his penis, edging further and further away from it as the shape of his dick is falling through.

The bottom of his underwear rips in either direction, his penis falling down. The fleshy cylinder shape bobs back and forth. The wind then stops. He looks up to the camera. His left hand hugging his chest, the shape of his pectorals pressed underneath his hand. His right hand is holding his dick. It’s shaking and can’t even hold into it properly as the head shines from beneath the reflection of the camera light.