Monitoring Station 1

John's eyes felt like sandpaper as he stared at the flickering monitor, slowly clicking at the items that appeared. He hated the night shift. Time crawled like molecules of water evaporating from the husk of a dead insect, stretching meaninglessly into eternity. He should have brought his laptop. He hadn't, fearing the distraction modern processing power offered, choosing instead to complete his evening work on the potato of an industrial computer that had been stuck to the station's chipboard desk sometime around the wrong end of the turn of the century.

John dragged the card and deposited it on the pile, covering his eyes and stretching back in his chair with a loud groan. The chair creaked. No other sound was heard in the building. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and groaned again.

Static crackled along his skin. A flash of heat washed over him, hitting his arms and his face. John scrambled to activate the monitoring software, nearly tipping himself and the old metal and timber chair onto the hard concrete floor. He fumbled his login code and hurried to the observation chamber door, the door handle just cooling from scalding as he touched it. The room was filled with a thick mist that left a fizzy sensation in the mouth and in the sinuses. The light within the room was off, obviously having tripped from the static or the flash of heat. John switched on the secondary circuit, the switch cover coated with a fine film of the rapidly evaporating mist. Light flooded the room, illuminating every cavity and mote of dust. Leaning against the wall, as if he'd stumbled there from some greater height, was a naked man. The stranger was tall, easily over six feet. Every muscle on his torso and limbs was perfectly sculpted, bulging beneath skin glistening with condensating moisture, running in rivulets down every dip and valley. Six inches of uncut glory hung lazily between his legs.

John swallowed, heat rushing to his face and other extremities. The stranger was shielding his eyes against the blazing light, chiseled features and full, luscious lips twisted into a frown.

"Hey, brah. Can you, like, turn it down in here? It's really fucking bright."

John grabbed the other man's wrist and dragged him into the office, snatching up the urgently ringing phone.

"Yes... Yes... Just came through a minute ago... Yes, yes. I understand. Thank you." John replaced the handset and reached into a drawer. "Let's, uh... Let's get you a visitor's badge."

He made the mistake of looking at the stranger, smiling bemusedly down at him from his lofty height. The man took the badge from John's numb fingers, slipping the lanyard over his head, the laminated card resting against his bare chest. John swallowed.

"Let's, uh..." The man's muscles rippled in interesting and distracting ways when he moved. "Let's... Let's see if we can find you some clothes," he said, desperately trying to ignore the situation developing in his pants. Eli from IT had to have a spare set somewhere, right?

Eli did, in the locker that he probably should have locked when he left for the night. The broad expanse of the stranger's shoulders strained against the pale t-shirt, the thin cotton bunching and stretching with every flex of his muscles. The pink shorts barely contained him, his muscular ass filling up every cubic inch left available. Surprisingly, the flip-flops fit perfectly. They were hanging loosely from the stranger's feet as he swung his legs slowly against the office cabinet he was sitting on, his strong thighs indecently apart as he scratched idly at his stomach.

John was going to die. He was painfully, obviously rock hard within his pants. His breathing was laboured and ragged and he wasn't certain if he was going to faint or if his head was going to explode.

"Hey, man. Are you, like, alright?" The t-shirt had ridden up the man's torso, revealing the hallowed planes of the man's washboard abs. John realised the button of the short's fly was undone. "You look like you're gonna vomit."

Was the stranger making fun of him? "No, I'm, uh..." John inhaled sharply. The stranger was suddenly standing much closer to him, towering over him like a pillar of masculinity. John could almost taste the sweat on the man's skin. He took an involuntary step back, his flight brought up short by the orderly row of desks behind him.

"You look like you could use some help, brah." He palmed John's crotch, gently massaging him through the fabric.

John caught the stranger's wrist, flushing bright red. "No..." he panted. "It's... Ah!"

The stranger shook off John's hand, undoing his fly and pulling John's pants down in one smooth motion. Sinking to his knees, he grasped John's hips in hands that were as strong as the foundations of creation and enveloped his shamefully erect penis in his warm mouth. John moaned and bucked, his bare ass slapping the cold edge of a desk. The stranger's soft, pillowy lips wrapped around him, taking his entirety in with ease. John's eyes rolled back in his head as the man's large, wet tongue licked up and down his shaft, flicking over his testicles and sliding up to tease his tip. His world narrowed to ecstasy. John thrust mindlessly down the stranger's throat, filling the empty office with his lustful moans as his arousal built towards a climax.

The stranger pulled back suddenly, seconds before John was able to paint his oesophagus white with come. John whimpered plaintively, hunger boiling the shame out of him. The stranger smirked, looking at him in a way that made John's penis twitch with need, and popped the too-small shorts open. The full, erect length of his cock sprang into the air, dwarfing John with its girth. The stranger caught John's legs by the ankles and spread him helplessly apart, holding his legs immobile in the air with ease. Without any ceremony, the stranger thrust into John, burying himself to the hilt in John's asshole. John screamed, arcing his back in ecstasy. The stranger ignored him, closing his eyes and holding himself still within John for a moment.

"Aw, yeah, brah. That's the stuff right there."

He pinned John's squirming hips to the desk and thrust again, pistoning in and out of him at leisure, heedless of John's moans. The thin cotton t-shirt grew transluscent from the sweat running down the stranger's chest, highlighting each ripple of every sculpted muscle as he pounded into John's ass, fucking the sense out of his already blown mind.

John was impossibly hard. He was paralysed, brain too busy cataloguing every vein and dimension of the stranger's penis with his rectal walls to consider providing himself with some relief. His ass felt raw and used, stretched beyond its limits by the stranger's gloriously thick cock, his soft, office worker ass cheeks pulverised to rubble by every thump of the stranger's ball sack.

The stranger's tempo picked up. He pulled John into himself with each stroke, dragging him off his cock and slamming it back in, faster and faster, fucking him like a well-used sex toy. John's keening wail grew rhythmic and high-pitched, an animal rutting in heat rather than a sentient, rational man. The stranger's grip tightened painfully around John's hips, stilling them both for a second before a load of hot come burst from the man's tip, flooding John's ass with seed. John's body seized and released its own pitiful load, spurting uncontrollably over his stomach and shirt.

The stranger pulled out and wiped himself off on John's thigh. He gave John a self-satisfied grin.

"Thanks for the welcome, brah."

~~~

I almost think the title's to good for this...