Show Me What You Got
By: Giantguy
Damn, he was hard.
Mark shifted around on the cold seat of the john, stroking his cock
a little. He looked up at the graffiti scrawled across the metal
wall of the stall.
"10:30 PM FRIDAY SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT AND I'LL SWALLOW"
There were other things scribbled and scratched on the graygreen
painted surface, some half erased or wiped away "CARNES SUCKS DICK"
and "WHAT YOU LOOKING AT FAGGOT" but this one was inked in, new in
the last couple of days. Mark saw it yesterday when he came in to
take a leak between classes. Not a lot of people came to this
bathroom on the second floor of the athletic building, but for once
there was a line, so he had to use the stall. He read it while he
pissed... probably just a joke ... probably ... but there was
something about it that turned him on. He didn't exactly plan on
coming back ... but here he was ... pretending to himself that it
was just a coincidence that he was sitting here, 10:25 pm on Friday,
a half hour before the building closed, his shorts down around his
ankles and his hard cock in his hand, while all his buddies from the
soccer team were already into their second pitcher of beer at the
bar wondering where he was...
He shifted again, flexing his legs. They were strong and cut from
three years on the soccer team ... he was fast, lean and muscular at
5'8" and 145 lbs. He ran a hand nervously through his short sandy
hair. A bead of sweat ran down his side. What the fuck was he
doing here? Not like he couldnt get his dick sucked by any one of
the girls he was screwing ... but something was tingling in his
crotch, getting him more excited than he had been in a long time ...
Ten twenty nine. Ah, he should just pack it up and go. His buds
would be waiting for him, and he'd have to explain where the hell
he'd been... couldnt tell them he was waiting around to maybe get a
blowjob in the boys room of the PE building...
Ten thirty. Okay. It was just a joke. He should get the hell out
of there. He could hear the door opening and the janitor wheeling
his bucket in. Nothing was going to be happening tonight. But he
couldnt walk out of here with his boner just stuffed in his shorts
... he'd give it a minute to go down.
He could hear the creak of the janitor's boots. He could see them
under the stall door ... pushing the mop slowly back and forth. He
heard a little grunt and then a chuckle ... damn, that was probably
Carnes. They all knew Carnes ... he'd been working there forever...
ex merchant marine, probably fifty by now, a massive mountain of a
man... close cropped salt and pepper hair, a wiry dark beard, dark
eyebrows... the kind of guy who could look right at you and scare
the shit out of you without saying a word. He was always wearing
the same olive green jumpsuit, stretched over his round, hard beer
gut. You knew you were "in" when Carnes would see you in the hall
and just say "Ya did good, ya son of a bitch." Otherwise he would
just ignore you. Carnes had only even looked at Mark once,
towering almost a full foot taller in his workboots. Mark was
leaving the building late as Carnes was finishing up the hallway...
Mark walked over the freshly mopped hallway floor, and looked back
as he felt Carnes' gaze burning into his back. He turned, and
Carnes was staring at him with a combination sneer and grin on his
face ... and then he licked his lips. Mark got the hell out of
there ...
... and now here he was in the john stall, holding his dick (why
wouldn't it fucking go DOWN), waiting for Carnes to finish up so he
could sneak out. Mark heard the clang of Carnes putting the mop
back in the wheeled steel bucket, and the sound of him unzipping his
jumpsuit. A second later there was a heavy gushing sound as Carnes
flooded the urinal. He cracked a fart, sighing in relief as he
forced a thick stream out ... sighed again and then belched long and
loud. Finally after a full minute the stream slowed and stopped...
and then Mark watched as Carnes's scuffed workboots slowly turned
and came toward the stall door ... Does he know I'm in here? Mark
thought, just as he saw Carnes' rough hand grab the top of the door.
A second later, the door swung open.
"Never got around to fixing the goddam locks in here," Carnes
growled in his gravelly voice. Mark tried to cover his still-hard
cock.
"Hey man, come on, I'm busy in here." he protested, trying not to
look Carnes in the face. Carnes slowly grinned.
"Sure ya are. Sure ya are." His dark deepset eyes moved over to
the graffiti on the stall, then back to Mark. "Guess I'm a couple
minutes late, huh ya little fucker."
SHIT! Was it Carnes who wrote that ... ? Mark couldn't help
looking up. Carnes' coverall was unzipped all the way down to his
crotch, exposing his furry, powerful, deep chest, and his round,
firm gut. The sleeves were rolled up over his thick muscular
forearms, each one covered with dark blue tattoos. He smelled like
a combination of musky sweat, tobacco and stale beer. He took a
step closer, filling the door of the stall. Mark moved back on the
toilet seat. He was afraid, but at the same time his cock surged,
getting harder than ever, starting to leak a little precum.
Carnes scratched at his belly, which gurgled. He opened his mouth
wide and belched again. Damn -- was he drunk? He must be, Mark
thought. Carnes slowly knelt down, reaching one callused paw out
and rubbing it over Mark's smooth, muscular thigh.
"Oh yeah. Show me what you got boy. That's the deal..." Carnes'
deep voice rumbled through Mark's body as his nice sized cock got
painfully hard, jumping in his hand. Mark swallowed, his throat
dry, trying to act tougher than he felt.
"So you see what I got. So you gonna fuckin swallow it or what?"
He held his fist around the base of his dick and pushed it at
Carnes. Carnes just grinned ... a long slow wide smile that made
Mark almost lightheaded, the blood rushing down, pounding through
his veins.
"You bet I'm gonna... you just fuckin bet I'm gonna..." Carnes had
both hands on Mark's thighs now, rubbing slowly up and down... then
holding Mark's hips in a tight grip ... he leaned forward... opening
his mouth ... stretching it wider... a dark gaping chasm beneath his
thick mustache...
Mark leaned back, closing his eyes, waiting for the first touch of
the man's tongue on his dick... he was so keyed up he was afraid he
would shoot right away... he felt warmth and wetness ... damn ... it
felt like Carnes had his entire ballsack enveloped ... swiping his
tongue ... it felt fucking HUGE... wait ... what the fuck ...
Mark opened his eyes and looked down at Carnes. "HOLY SHIT!"
Carnes just looked up at him, and tightened his grip, grinning
wider.
**************
Wes stomped into the athletic building. Fucking six thirty in the
morning. He still smelled like beer from last nights bar crawl, and
he woke up too late too shower. Didn't fucking matter, he was just
going to be scrubbing toilets all fucking day anyway. The coach had
really chewed his ass out -- he got caught turning in a paper that
one of his frat brothers wrote for him -- the coach told him he
should be kicking him out, but they would let it slide -- "BUT
you're gonna be fuckin cleaning out toilets with a toothbrush, you
little son of a bitch. Put you in your place. Now get your ass out
of here."
And where the hell was Carnes? Bad enough he had to spend his
Saturday cleaning out the shitters, but the coach told him Carnes
was going to watching him. "And I told him, if you miss one
fucking inch, then he can just can you right there. Cut you from
the team. So don't piss him off."
Maybe he was already in one of the bathrooms. Shit, that's all he
needed, to be fucking late already. The sour taste of beer was
still in Wes' mouth, damn near close to puking. The whole team had
been celebrating last night, well all except for Mark -- he must
have scored some major pussy, cause that's the only thing that would
have kept him out of the bar.
The lights were off in the bathrooms on the first floor, so Wes
climbed the stairs to the second floor. The women's bathroom was
dark there ... he pushed open the door to the men's bathroom. The
lights were off here too... he was about to move on when he heard a
sound like a low, rumbling growl.
"Anybody in here?" Wes stepped in, flicking on the lights. One
fluorescent tube was burnt out, and the other was dying, flickering
dimly. The sound came again, from one of the stalls. "Hello?
Carnes?"
Then there was a deep, wet, thick belch... "uuuOOOOOOOOOUFFFFF" that
rolled on and on. Wes almost laughed. "Jesus Christ man, what
the fuck did you eat for breakfast?" The door to one of the toilet
stalls banged open, and Wes saw Carnes' meaty, powerful hand grab
the door for leverage. The man heaved his massive bulk up and out
of the stall. Wes blinked a little. Carnes looked like he'd been
doing marathon heavy lifting ... there were deep sweat stains under
the arms of his coverall ... his face was flushed, with veins in his
neck standing out ... and his jumpsuit was unzipped almost all the
way down. Wes stared ... Carnes wasn't fat, he was powerful, built
like a tank with the solid beer gut of a man who liked his brew ...
but his belly was enormous ... swollen ... distended ... a hard ball
pushing out through the opening of Carnes' uniform. He was
standing, holding onto the stall door, breathing heavily as though
hed just climbed ten flights of stairs.
"What the FUCK you looking at, cocksucker?" Carnes barked. Wes
took a step back. "Uh... uh ... I'm sposed to be ... uh ...
working today ... and uh ... the coach said ..."
Carnes' expression suddenly changed. "Oh yeah... the team fuckup.
Tryin to save your ass from bein canned... oh yeah, I got a lot of
work for you. A lot..." Carnes grinned as he stood up straighter,
his massive gut moving, almost as though something were ... were
struggling? inside his belly.
"Come here boy. Let's get started ..."
Carnes threw a wire brush at Wes, about the size of a toothbrush,
and pushed open the door of the last stall.
"In there. Yer gonna scrub the john out ... and yer gonna wash down
these walls, get rid of all the fuckin graffiti. Yer gonna go inch
by inch. Ya got that, ya little fucker?"
Wes wasn't used to taking shit from anybody but the coach... but
Carnes radiated power. Wes, at 5'11 and 170 pounds of muscle, could
stand up to just about anybody ... but he backed down. "Yes... uh,
yes sir." Carnes stood with his arms folded, making no move to zip
his coverall up, his gut bulging out like a beachball. His bulk was
halfway blocking the door to the stall.
"Well? Get your ass in there, NOW." Carnes growled. Wes took a
deep breath, and squeezed past him ... as he slid by Carnes
stretched, bloated belly, he could almost feel it move, as though
something were thumping weakly around in there. He looked up
quickly at Carnes, who grinned and then opened his mouth, emitting
another belch, a deep, animal growl. "uuUUUUUuuuurp". He rubbed
his hands over his gut, letting the belch subside into a satisfied
sigh. Wes looked away, and knelt down, the tile cold against his
knees. Why the hell didnt he wear jeans instead of grabbing the
first pair of sweatshorts he could find? Carnes watched him begin
to work, another slow smile stretching across his face.
Wes' knees and back were aching. He was finishing on the second of
the three stalls, after working for hours. At first Carnes was
watching over him as he scrubbed and scoured, going one painful inch
at a time... then Carnes hunkered down, and lay on his back on the
floor, his hands slowly rubbing over his round, full gut. Getting
the graffiti cleaned off took the most time... Wes' mind was
drifting as he dug in to one stubborn scrawl in the second toilet
stall. Carnes was breathing deeply ... was that fucker asleep?
"Shit man, don't you got some actual work to do instead of layin on
your ass?" it was out of his mouth before Wes realized he had said
it out loud. Carnes grunted and then lumbered to his feet. In a
flash he was up, blocking what there was of the dim light as he
pushed into the stall door and glowered down at Wes.
"This IS my fucking job today, you little asswipe. I'm doin this
for your coach, not for you, FUCKER." He banged his fist against
the metal partition for emphasis, making Wes jump. "You want me to
be breathin down your neck, you son of a bitch, then I WILL. I'm
gonna be right on your ass man, right on your ASS, waitin for you to
miss one fuckin' inch, and when you DO man, you are fuckin' GONE.
OUTTA here. Off the team and fuck, outta this SCHOOL. You fuckin'
HEAR me, ya little prick?"
The blood was pounding in Wes' head and he only had half a voice as
he mumbled "Uhh .... uh... I'm done in here ... I ... I ... can
start on the next one..." He tried to keep control of himself and
not start shaking as he had to slide past Carnes again. This time
just as he was wedging himself through the narrow gap Carnes left
him, avoiding his burning eyes, Carnes shoved his gut forward,
pinning Wes in place. Wes stumbled and almost fell, having to grab
against Carnes for support. Carnes' still-exposed belly was hard
and the skin felt hot, the trail of hair leading down over it from
his hairy chest was stiff and coarse. Carnes laughed hoarsely and
then shoved Wes away, pushing him into the next stall.
Wes tried to concentrate as he worked on the last toilet, but his
body was aching and he couldnt focus with Carnes standing, legs
spread and arms folded, at the stall door, watching his every move.
His own t-shirt was getting sweaty ... he lifted it up and pulled it
off over his head, wiping his forehead with it. Behind him he heard
a long, low gurgling growl... coming from Carnes' massive belly.
At last he got started on cleaning off the graffiti... phone numbers
... little drawings of dick and balls ... some sex jokes ... and one
scrawl, larger than the rest, written in red. "SHOW ME WHAT YOU
GOT..." It was slowly starting to come off. Man, when this was
done, he was going to go home and take a long shower and just sleep.
What fucking time was it? He didn't wear a watch and there were no
windows... felt like he'd been in here for two days.... the
flickering fluorescent lights hurt his eyes and his back was killing
him... and man, he was fuckin' hungry. He scrubbed harder at the
words... "AND I'LL SWALLOW..." He saw the rest of it "FRIDAY 10:30
PM" ... huh, maybe somebody got a blowjob in here last night... he
could sure fucking use one, got left with blue balls last night...
He wiped his forehead again with his damp t-shirt... almost done ...
then he could tell Carnes to fuck off and he'd be outta here.
There. The wall was clean. Wes stretched and stood up, his tired
back muscles feeling like they were twisted in knots. "Okay man, I
am gone."
Carnes didn't move. "The fuck you are. You ain't done in there."
Wes had had it. "Yeah, I fuckin' AM. Look man -- it's fucking
clean and clear."
Carnes' eyebrows lowered. "I see a spot down there..." Wes looked
... one small square of graffiti in the back corner, almost behind
the john.
"Fuck man, nobodys gonna see that. Come on man. I'm fuckin hungry
as hell. You must be too, you ain't been outta here the whole day."
On cue, there was a groan from Carnes' belly. Wes tried to push
his advantage. "Yeah man, you must be fuckin' starving. I'll buy
you some beer. Fuck, man, I'll buy you a steak, let's just get the
fuck out of here.."
"Yeah you got that right fucker... I'm gonna need something big to
eat ... gut's almost empty again..." Carnes put one big paw up on
Wes' big chest "and you, ya little bastard, now you REALLY fucked
up."
Wes' eyes widened. "What the fuck man? What'd I do?" Carnes
pushed him backwards into the stall.
"Tryin' to bribe me man? Slackin' off? Not finishing what you
started? That's the kind of half-assed shit that got you in fuckin'
trouble in the first place."
"Aw man, come on, I just said I'd buy you a--"
"Too LATE man, too fuckin' LATE" Carnes leaned down, braying the
words in Wes' face. His breath was hot, beery and rank. Wes turned
his head away. "And now your ass is MINE, fucker. You're outta
here. You're REALLY outta here." He slammed a hand down on Wes'
shoulder. Wes lost his balance, and fell hard onto the john, the
breath knocked out of him. He slipped over to one side, his face
banging into the metal wall, his arm shooting down to brace himself.
He just stayed there for a second ... fuck, was Carnes gonna beat
the crap out of him? He tried to sit up... his hand hit something,
something that was half wedged behind the john... a ... a shoe? He
tugged on it and it slid out from behind the toilet... a new Nike
sneaker ... neon green stripes across it ... a crazy looking shoe
... that he'd seen before ... fuck...
"Mark." he said, almost automatically. He looked up. Carnes was
towering over him, looking ten feet tall. Carnes rubbed both hands
slowly over his bulging gut.
"Oh yeah... your little buddy. Guess he thought he was gonna get
his dick sucked. Probably didn't think he was gonna get sucked down
all the way. And I fuckin' mean, ALL the way."
Wes tried to back up further as Carnes moved in, starting to hunker
down. "Wha... what the fuck did you do?"
Carnes grinned, his dark beard glinting with drops of sweat and
saliva. "Like I said, fucker. I swallowed him."
"You sucked his cock?"
Carnes leaned in even closer. "You ain't LISTENING, fucker. I said
I SWALLOWED him." His gut was pressing against Wes' legs... the
skin felt even hotter ... burning hot ... "And you're next."
Wes barely had time to react before Carnes' hands were on either
side of his head, gripping him tightly. His own hands were on
Carnes, trying to pull his powerful mitts off of him, but his
strength wasn't a match for Carnes' steely grip. Carnes brought his
face up to Wes', staring at him. Then he closed his eyes, and began
to open his mouth... there was a sound of popping ... like a joint
flexing ... his mouth gaping ... stretching ... a dark opening more
than a foot wide ... eighteen inches ... Wes tried to turn away but
Carnes' fat, thick tongue lapped out, swiping his face with thick,
slick saliva. Carnes raised up slightly and pushed his distended
jaw down over Wes' head, slowly engulfing it, pushing down inch by
inch...
Wes flailed but he was trapped in the enclosed space... he felt a
warm, wet tightness over the top of his head, and Carnes' thick lips
ringed by wiry beard start to push down over his face, the ridge of
his lower teeth lightly scraping his face as his head was forced
deeper into Carnes' mouth. His thoughts were circling his mind in a
panic...
...fuck... SWALLOWED him... Mark... ? ... how the FUCK ... swallowed
him WHOLE... holy fuck this cant be happening ... sucked down into
Carnes' gut ... FUCK....
Wes almost blacked out for a second, feeling the rough wet surface
of Carnes' wide thick tongue swiping and slurping over his face. He
tried to catch a gasp of air, and felt himself being pushed even
further in.
Carnes held him by the shoulders as his lips closed around Wes'
neck. He kept his eyes closed, a low growl rumbling around in his
chest. He took a slow, ragged breath in through his nose, and
prepared himself for the widest stretch of all-- the shoulders. He
suddenly grunted like a man deadlifting a huge weight, and stretched
his jaw wide. He pressed Wes' shoulders together, lifting him up
off the seat. Further ... wider ... aaaauUUUUUhh yes, he engulfed
the shoulders and ribcage, his tongue pushing and sliding, his
powerful throat muscles expanding more and more.
He slid his meaty hands down Wes' sides, and then pushed up with his
legs, coming to a standing position, and flipping Wes up into the
air, letting gravity help him pull him down into his maw. Wes' arms
were pinned to his side, and he slid another foot, his crotch now
slowly sinking into Carnes' gaping mouth. Carnes reached up and dug
his fingers into Wes' sweatshorts. He pulled them apart, ripping
them in two, his tattooed biceps bulging with the effort. Wes' cock
flopped down on to his lips as he threw the pieces of the shorts
down. His cock was hard ... every time, they got hard. Carnes felt
his own meat harden and lengthen, stretching down the loose leg of
his coveralls. He took another long breath through his nose and
prepared for the last stretch. He gripped Wes' thighs, forcing him
down into his mouth, his throat distended as Wes' body was slowly
gulped down. He maneuvered him in, inch by inch, pausing to breathe
and allow his jaw and throat to stretch further. Now he had him by
the knees ... now by his strong calves ... now only Wes' feet stuck
out of his mouth. He savored the last moment, yanking the sneakers
off and tossing them aside, running his tongue over the broad flat
soles. He breathed in again... and gulped. His lips closed over
Wes' toes as they disappeared into his mouth. His throat bulged
wide as Wes slid down, curled up in his belly, Carnes' beergut
bloated and stretched round and massive. Carnes backed out of the
stall, a little unsteady with the extra weight in his gut. He
worked his jaw back into place, taking huge gulps of air, further
bloating his belly. He liked to feel them squirm.
"Done?"
Carnes looked sharply at the door. The coach stood there, a burly
man in his late thirties, swarthy with heavy five o clock shadow and
steel blue eyes... almost as though he could have been Carnes'
brother.
Carnes grinned. His only reply was a thick, viscous belch.
"UuuuuOOOOOUUURp". He rubbed his hands across his gut, slapping it
hard. The hollow sound echoed in the dimly lit bathroom. The coach
smiled.
"Good job."
A week later... Jeff was taking a leak before he went down for a
meeting with the coach about his latest fuckup in practice... his
eyes wandered over the stall wall... damn, he thought, they clean
all the graffiti off but then some fucker has to go and get his
fuckin' pen out. He idly read the red scrawl as he shook the last
drops off his half hard cock... "10:30 PM FRIDAY SHOW ME WHAT YOU
GOT
Friday... no date Friday... well, what the hell, huh?
"AND I'LL SWALLOW"