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With one last sputter, the faded green 1987 Chevrolet Silverado pulled into the pockmarked and uneven parking lot of the Palisades Apartments in southern Pamela Springs. The shabby pickup truck remained idle for a moment, tailpipe spewing a consistent stream of black smoke, before Jett Walker reached for his keys and turned the ignition off. Jett blinked a few times and then scrunched his thick eyebrows into a frown, the grip tightening on the worn leather of his steering wheel. The spark of anger was immediately doused with a quiver of his lip and he fell back against the lumpy headrest, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jett muttered a swear underneath his breath. He was tired, and when that happened, he had a tendency to dwell on the more negative qualities of his life. Straightening up, he caught his reflection in the grimy rear-view mirror; another wrinkle graced his olive skin and complimented the bags underneath his mossy green eyes. His lips curled into a slight grin as he studied his face and chin, where a five ‘o clock shadow was coming in quite nicely. The smile dropped when he blinked once and then jerked forward to spot the flecks of grey in his brown locks.
Of course, of course. Jett shook his head with a mirthless chuckle and reached to open the glove compartment. He pulled out a metal flask and shook it a few times, ears perking at the sound of liquid sloshing around. He was thirty-eight years old and he was already starting to grey. Jett quickly unscrewed the flask and then took a big, hearty swig. He smacked his lips afterwards, the taste of rum lingering in the back of his throat. Thirty-eight years old and greying.
Jett downed the rest of his rum. His chest burned with plaintive frustration. Who could’ve guessed a powerful and talented spellcaster like him would be reduced to working as a impoverished repairman? Actually, Jett could name a number of people who predicted such a fate, but he could only blame himself. As powerful as he was, he was stubborn as a mule and always did things his way. That led him into many, many, conflicts with the magic council, who decried his magic as dangerous and unorthodox.
“Tch, not my fault creatin’ a philosopher's stone meant bloodlettin‘ a unicorn or two.” Jett grumbled and tossed the empty flask over his shoulder. He took a moment to roll his neck, hand coming up to massage the nape, then sniffed loudly. He wasn’t drunk yet, but was certainly feeling a bit buzzed.
“All right mate,” Jett looked at his reflection in the grimy rear-view mirror. “You can do this. Just one step at a time, yeah?” his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, puffing his chest out in confidence.
Empty bottles clinked and food wrappers crunched as Jett scooted out of the driver’s seat. He glanced around to see run down cars populating the expanse of asphalt and smirked, seeing his own pickup truck wasn’t too out of place. He turned his attention to the Palisades Apartments itself; the building had been a motel during the Atomic Age, servicing motorist who made one last stopover before reaching the dazzling neon constellation that was Las Vegas. Now its faded pastel green and futurist architecture served to remind tenants of the Palisades’ glory days. Jett closed the door behind him and then pulled a crumpled note he’d written beforehand out of his jean’s pocket.
“Apartment 2A, somethin’ wrong with the kitchen sink. Immediate fix.” Jett rolled his eyes at ‘immediate’ and stuffed the note back into his pocket. It was always immediate. But he knew from experience that immediate was not realistic, and if you wanted the job done right, it would have to take some time.
“With my luck, they’ll start chewin’ my ear off the moment I knock on the door.” Jett groused as he walked back to pull his toolbox out of the cargo bed.
The disgruntled repairman slipped through the front gate and walked past the swimming pool. He wiggled his nose at the stench of chlorine and shook his head at the choice of decorations. Plastic pink flamingos, fake miniature hula girls, and coconut palm trees? Not even the cheapest hotels in Gold Coast looked this tacky. Jett mounted the rusted metal stairs to the second floor and strolled up to the paint-chipped door that was marked Apartment 2A in faded bronze letters. He took a moment to smooth the wrinkles of out his stained tee shirt and then gave a firm knock.
Jett raised an eyebrow as there was a muffled yelp from behind the door, followed by something being knocked over and he winced as it shattered on the floor. He scratched the nape of his neck and winced again as he heard someone run into something with a hard thud, the former crying out in pain while the latter toppled over. He glanced to either side of him and found the walkway empty then turned back to the door. More shattering, more frantic footsteps and muffled panic.
“You okay in there mate?” Jett called out, knocking on the door again.
“J-Just uh, a minute p-please!” a deep but panicked voice called back.
The repairman stood in place as the cacophony of destruction reached its climax and then abruptly stopped when the doorknob rattled. The door swung open then and he blinked a few times in astonishment. “Oh…” he shrunk back a little.
Now Jett considered himself to be a big man; broad shouldered and standing six three in height. Not exactly the kind of brawniness that regular people associated spellcasters with. But the man standing in the doorway before him stood a good head taller than him. The two stared at each other for a moment before the man blinked and a big smile graced his face.
“O-Oh, um, hi!” the man waved. Sweat made his tanned skin glisten in the sunlight and stained the pits of the red dress shirt he was wearing. He tugged on the necklace of polished stone and beads to give his muscular neck some much needed air. “You um, you are the ‘repairman’, yes?” he asked, accent stiffening his English.
“Um, yeah,” Jett cleared his throat and realized he was lingering on the man’s dress shirt. It was unbuttoned, revealing the man had large pecs and beefy abs that were covered in a thick amount of body hair. And he thought he was hairy. “G’day mate, the name’s Jett Walker.” he raised his hand introduction.
“Ah, very nice to meet you!” the man gave a hearty chuckle, showing off his fangs and clasped Jett’s hand to give him a strong handshake. “My name is uh, Stan and well, for a last name, Hernández is what Meiji and Sabrina picked for me.” he introduced, a bit confused with the last part.
“Picked?” the repairman winced at the powerful grip Stan had. He also took note of Stan’s black, swept back hair and the little odd curl that spilled over his brow. His eyebrows were just as thick as Jett’s, and he sported not only a thicker stubble, but also a fine mustache too.
“Yeah, it’s quite uh, long story but – a-ah, geez!” Stan’s hand dropped in frantic scramble. “Forgive me, I am as they say, um, not decent.” he apologized, blushing profusely.
Jett flicked his attention down to see Stan wore a pair of black shorts and a brown leather belt, which complimented his hairy muscular legs. He flicked his eyes back up when he noticed what Stan was covering and looked at his sweaty face, eyebrows raised. It didn’t take a genius to understand the implications.
“Is, is this uh, a bad time for you mate?” Jett cleared his throat. His nostrils flared as he inadvertently took a whiff of Stan. Sweat and musk, which shouldn’t be a surprise to him – Stan was the definition of virility. “I can come back later if you want.” he jutted a thumb over his shoulder.
“N-No, no!” Stan stepped forward and grabbed Jett’s shoulders with both hands. Jett swallowed thickly as he was forced to acknowledged the other’s eyes. They were blood red and the pupils were shaped like diamonds. He’d never seen eyes like that before.
“P-Please um, stay, don’t mind me. I am just, uh,” Stan chewed his lip and the looked up, the gears turning in his head. “Going through a change, y-yes? Nothing for you to worry about.” he chuckled nervously.
“… Uh, sure.” Jett nostrils flared as he sniffed and sniffed. He didn’t mean to smell; he’s been sweaty and musky before. But there was something about Stan’s odor that made it rather… enjoyable. “Lead the uh, way then.” he asked.
Stan dropped his hands with a big toothy grin and beckoned Jett to follow him inside. The repairman wiggled his nose as the door was closed behind him – it smelled even more pungent inside. He looked around the apartment; it was furnished sparsely with hand-me downs and yard sale acquisitions. There was a glass sliding door in the living room that was closed. Probably for the best, Jett mused to himself as he was led into the kitchen.
“All right,” Jett placed his toolbox on the counter and opened it. “Now what seems to be the problem?” he asked while searching for the right tools.
“Oh, um, the pipe is leaking.” Stan said, standing strategically on the counter’s other side.
“Leakin’ huh?”
“Y-Yeah, it’s been leaking real bad for the past couple of days.”
“Real bad, huh? Been makin’ quite a mess, has it?”
“Oh yeah, just, I-I tried! I really tried, but it keeps leaking so much. I can’t uh, focus because of it. Can you please fix it before it’s too late?”
Jett cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. His skin prickled with warmth. Okay, either Stan didn’t understand his poor word choice or he was deliberately being coy. Or perhaps it was both. He pulled out a pocket flashlight. “Well, um, that’s quite a shame mate. I’ll see what I can do to help.” he said, turning to him.
Stan sighed in relief and wiped his sweaty brow with one hand. Jett couldn’t help but notice his other hand was dipped past the counter’s edge, obviously holding something. His chest tightened with a sense of cautious excitement. He turned away when Stan opened his eyes once more and kneel down in front of the kitchen sink. A quick inspection underneath showed that indeed, the pipe was leaking and there was a significant puddle growing on the bottom.
“Yep, that’s quite a leakage you got there mate.” Jett poked his head inside. The damage was serious but manageable. The wood didn’t look warped yet and there was no sign of mold development. He eased back outside with a grunt.
“I reckon it’s goin’ to be an hour’s top of repairs. You should probably make yourself comfortable or somethin’.” he advised.
“A-Ah, okay, great! I’ll just uh, be other there and leave you be.” Stan jutted a thumb over his shoulder and smiled nervously.
Stan quickly turned before the other could get a good look at his crotch, shirt tucked down for additional protection. He retreated to the relative darkness of the hallway, where the light bulb remained unchanged and the switch off. Stan leaned against the peeling wallpaper and closed his eyes with another sigh of relief. He dragged his large hands down his sweaty face, groaning softly at the heat surging through his body. He looked down at himself, eyes half-lidded and rubbed the nape of his neck.
It was that time of the year again. His rut would leave him growing hairier, noticeably sharper in the teeth department, and his libido working overtime. These days it didn’t take much for Stan to get worked up. Self-control during this state, however, proved to be a challenge, when every other fiber of his body kept hounding him to eat and breed, non-stop.
“Ugh, this sucks…” he groaned softly.
Unbuckling his belt, Stan chewed his lip and unzipped his shorts, nearly breaking the zipper off in the rush. His breath wavered as he yanked his shorts down and his cock immediately sprung out, thanks to him wearing no underwear. His fingers closed around the thick shaft and he groaned softly feeling the medial ring pulse underneath his touch. He gave his cock a brief stroke, hand sliding up to his flared tip where pre-cum gathered at the slit in a huge wad. His other hand reached down to roll his large and fat balls, which sloshed heavily with seed.
“Fuck…” Stan bared his fangs and trembled. He increased the tempo of his stroking, his cock throbbing and growing larger. It now took both of his hands to encase his shaft and his balls swelled to rock against his lower thighs.
Stan leaned over a few inches to take a peek back into the kitchen. Jett was laying down on his back, boots scuffing the linoleum while his head and chest were inside the cabinet. His licked his lips as he gazed up from the repairman’s boots to admire his brawny figure, eyebrows quirking at the bulge in Jett’s jeans and the snugness of his tee shirt. His nostrils flared as he caught sight of those beefy arms raised up to expose Jett’s clothed armpits, stained with sweat.
Stan’s eyes fluttered as he took a whiff of Jett’s scent and then some more. The slits on his neck opened and he let out an animalistic growl of approval. In this state, his body was tuned to seek out those who were either similarly pungent or unabashedly virile. Jett checked both boxes off and then some. Stan shook his head and panted softly. His eyes grew half-lidded and started to glaze over with primal need.
“C’mon you lil’ bugger…” Jett winced as he squeezed his wrench and the narrow pipe fought against him. “C’mon…” he squeezed harder, bicep flexing as the pipe whined and then finally popped open.
“Ah-ha! No match for my guns, aren’t cha?” Jett chuckled.
The chuckling tapered off into a grunt when he inhaled sharply again, Stan’s sweat and musk smothering his nose. Jett shook his head to keep focus and then reached to unscrewed the pipe. He was aware that his skin bristled uncomfortably with heat and that it wasn’t just the summer heat making him sweat. Shifting a bit, the repairman lifted his chin to looked over his chest, ignoring his erect nipples rubbing against the worn fabric, and eyed the bulge in his jeans. As if it seemed to be aware of his gaze, Jett’s cock throbbed back at him, causing him to groan softly in consequence.
“Bloody Hell…” Jett grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
It wasn’t like being horny on the job was new to him. He’s been sprung plenty of times; a lot of that could be traced to his own vigorous libido and the fact that his sex life was more or less in the gutter at this moment. But to get turned on from another man’s sweat and musk? This was new to him. Letting go of his nose, Jett reached for another tool and tried to remain focus on the hour deadline he gave himself.
All the while he grew more and more aroused by Stan’s virile scent. His cock throbbed and swelled until all eight thick inches were flushed against the denim of jeans. It was only when the fabric of his boxer-briefs started to become stained with pre-cum did Jett conceded defeat at last. A quick glance showed the kitchen was empty and Stan nowhere to be found – probably taking care of his own redwood that threaten to spill out of his shorts. Jett shimmied out of the kitchen cabinet and scooted over to prop his back against the wall.
His lips parted with a breathless sigh as he unbuckled his utility belt and unzipped his jeans, pulling his cock out moments later. His mind was already conjuring up a fantasy while he wrapped his fingers around the thick shaft and began to stroke roughly. Jett could see himself kneeling in front of Stan, who stood proudly in his tanned and sweaty naked glory. He buried his face in Stan’s crotch, nose tickled by his bushy pubes and inhaled lungfuls of his masculine aroma. He slowly rose up to pepper those beefy abs with kisses, tongue sliding over a nipple to suckle it, and then finally launched himself into one of Stan’s hairy pits.
Jett closed his eyes and groaned softly at his imagination. His foreskin rose up and over the glans as he stroked, the shaft growing slicker from the amount of pre-cum he was leaking. He paused for a moment to pull out his fat balls and the hairy orbs bounced as he stroked himself off. Stan was encouraging him to smell as much as he wanted, flexing his big arms so that Jett could marvel at his gains and size. His attitude had become smug and dominant – a complete opposite of the cheerfulness he introduced himself with.
Fully committed to his fantasy, Jett failed to noticed the heavy footsteps approaching him. He felt something press against his boots and paid it no attention. He arched his back a little when he brushed his thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing pre-cum in return. He was vaguely aware that his boots were now pinched together and a sense of warmness crept over his ankles. It was only when the repairman heard a sharp crack above him and tense groan did he finally open his eyes.
Stan was looming over him, half-naked with the kitchen light casting shadows against his sweaty and heaving build. He’d braced himself against the wall above Jett with both hands and several cracks radiated from underneath his right palm. Stan’s cock was jaw-dropping enormous – the shaft thick as his chest and his balls the size of bean bags, resting on the linoleum. His slit was stretched to accommodate Jett’s legs, which were being pulled inside with each throb. Jett blinked a couple of times and looked at Stan panting then at his massive cock.
“W-What the…?” Jett winced as Stan’s cock throbbed and dragged him forward, his back losing contact with the wall. He swallowed thickly as the slit closed over his knees and then slowly inched up his thighs. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?!” he said incredulous.
“S-Sorry, I-I uh,” Stan shook his head. Droplets of sweat landed on Jett underneath. “I-I just, I need you…” he panted roughly.
“Y-You’re just, a-ah, fuck—!” Stan lifted his head up with a low growl, the slits on his neck opening up to reverberate. He looked down at the repairman again, eyes fluttering while his cock throbbed and his balls gurgled with an intense hunger. “I-I just need you inside my balls right now.” he gritted his teeth.
“Couldn’t even wait for my break, could you mate?” Jett shook his head, lips curling into a playful smirk. He was still stroking his cock and his arousal seem to grow stronger instead of diminishing. He looked down at the massive flared tip that inched closer to his crotch. “Christ…” he grunted softly.
“Y-You are not, uh, alarmed?” Stan blinked in surprise.
Jett shrugged and stroked his cock a little more then released his grip. Both men trembled as the flared tip reached his cock and swallowed it. His eyes fluttered as his thick shaft was enveloped in a warm and tight, squishy embrace. Not even his flesh-jack at home was this delectably snug. “L-Let’s just say I’m quick to adapt to the circumstan—oh f-fuck yeah, that feels amazin’…!” he suddenly blurted.
That, and he had a feeling something was going to happen the moment he heard Stan moving like a bull through a china shop. The latter eyed him rather too intently at times while he worked on the pipes, as though he were sizing him up. Based on that and Stan reeking of horniness, Jett thought his mouth or ass was about to get real antiquated with Stan’s huge cock. Getting swallowed by said huge cock caught him off guard, but it wasn’t a terrible experience (yet). He struggled a bit as Stan cock swallowed his hands, pinning his hairy arms against his sides and panted roughly.
“H-Hey, mate,” Jett wet his lips and craned his neck back up to Stan. “Do you mind if I – ngh, fuck I can feel you squeezin’ my balls – f-fuck, fuck – do you mind if I say a lil’ spell first?” he managed say before groaning again.
“S-Spell?” Stan watched as Jett closed his eyes and started to whisper in that rugged tone of his. The repairman glowed softly with a green shimmer, which disappeared the moment he stopped whispering and opened his eyes again. “W-What was that?” he said in wonder.
“J-Just a lil’ spell. R-Regeneration, since, y-y’know...”
“A-Ah! Neat! Wished the pizza delivery man knew that… a-and that electrician too…”
The pair shared a mutual chuckle before Stan turned his attention back to swallowing Jett. His cock gobbled up his arms and inched its way up his chest, soaking his tee shirt with pre-cum. His fingers dung into the wall as he winced to put more effort into tackle Jett’s broad chest and shoulders. Jett remained willing for this most part, squirming now and then for some much needed friction against his cock. His eyes fluttered as he took another whiff of Stan – he could not get enough of that smell.
“A-Ah yes, f-fuck,” Stan panted harshly. Jett’s chest was pulled in with a hard slurp and sent bolts of pleasure down his back. He pulled away from the wall and then picked up his massive cock, hugging it tightly against his chest with both hands. “A-Almost there…!” he cried out.
Jett and Stan were almost eye level now. The former struggled to move forward and craned his neck as far as he could. In a fleeting, impulsive thought, he figured kissing his devourer would be icing on the cake. Fortunately for him, Stan put two and two together and leaned in for a sloppy kiss. Both moaned, feeling stubble against stubble, and kissed a second time, and then a third. It would’ve been a fourth had Stan not grabbed a handful of Jett’s brown locks and shoved his head down with a lusty groan.
Stan pulled his hand out of the slit and then hugged his massive shaft tightly, coaxing the large bulge down. It disappeared at the base of his cock and his balls groaned as Jett was deposited inside. “F-Fuck yes…!” he cried out in bliss.
Contractions continued to squeeze and push Jett until his entire brawny self was packed tightly in Stan’s right sac. He shifted a bit to make himself comfortable, movement hard due to the inherent squishiness of his new abode. His struggles could be seen outside, as a distinct outline writhed and his hand pressing against the tanned skin. He eventually flopped onto his back, settling into a pool of warm semen sloshing around him. Another whisper of a spell gave him some illumination and Jett took a movement to gawk at the squishy, reddish flesh.
“Incredible…” Jett said breathlessly.
The sac groaned softly around him and rippled with contractions. His nostrils flared as he took a whiff; it was Stan’s musky scent concentrated to its purest form. Jett reached down to grab a hold of his erect cock and he started to stroke vigorously. He let himself be rocked about by the sac squeezing around him, the temperature growing warmer by the minute. The pool of semen he laid in slowly rose over his boots and continued to rise.
“Y-Yes, f-fuck it, y-yeah, give it to me…” Jett panted. He pumped his cock faster, his hand just a blur at his point. Heat pooled in his lower groin while his toes felt numb and pliable. There was a soft rip as his tee shirt dissolved enough that his large and hairy pecs spilled out. “O-Oh f-fuck yes that’s good mate…” he moaned.
Self-control was quickly eroding way, along with his jeans and leather belt. Lust filled Jett’s mind, egged on by the heat reaching its tipping point in his loins and the intoxicating grip of Stan’s musk. He just needed to cum. That’s all he could think of right now. Just one more stroke, just one more teasing grab of his balls…
“F-Fuck I’m gonna c-cum!” Jett craned neck up and lifted his head out of the rising pool.
“I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna c-cum…!”
Jett cried out as he finally came hard. He arched his back as rope after thick rope shot from his cock and helped fill the rising pool of semen. His mouth hung open as his orgasm left him seeing stars and pinwheels, his whole body shuddering with a sense of pure bliss. The repairman slumped against flesh when he finally came down from euphoria and squeezed every last drop out of his fat sack. He blinked a few times and trembled as semen began to creep over his face.
“Fuck yes…” Jett said as he disappeared underneath the surface.
Panting harshly, Stan clung to his massive shaft with both hands and humped the kitchen wall aggressively. He could feel Jett struggling inside of him until the very last moment. The distinct outline he made gradually lost shape as his balls gurgled and groaned with increasing sound. It wasn’t long before Jett and his cum had become one as he completely digested the rugged Australian repairman.
“Y-Yes…!” Stan groaned out.
The kitchen wall strained as his massive cock was pushed harder against it. Pre-cum flowed down from the flared tip and covered the linoleum in almost an inch of its clear, sticky substance. The slits on Stan’s neck reverberated with another lengthy and primal groan. His nostrils flared with a hot breath and he wrapped his arms tighter around the massive shaft, humping as fast as he could.
“G-Gonna…! C-Cum...!” he cried.
Stan clenched his jaw tightly and slammed his cock against the kitchen wall as he finally came. Thick ropes of cum rocketed out of his cock, flooding the kitchen with his thick load. He held his shaft tightly while his balls flexed and clenched, releasing everything at once. He continued to squeeze until his orgasm subsided and his balls were fully drained. He wobbled for a second and then fell back against the drowned linoleum.
“M-Man…” Stan blinked a few times and wiped the sweat from his brow. He pulled his cock from the wall, leaving a vague impression behind and then settled on his back. The flared tip throbbed beside his ear and squirted another wad of cum. “I really needed that…” he panted harshly.
He laid there for a few minutes, gently patting his massive shaft as it slowly began to shrink. Stan sat back up when his cock shrank to a manageable size, the flared tip resting comfortably against his pecs. Jett’s toolbox bumped against him then and he watched as it floated down the lazy river that was cum. Oh, right, the pipes. Stan rubbed the nape of his neck and blushed.
“Guess I’m going to have to and find a new repairman.” he chuckled nervously.