Renovation

 

“Clint, you’re fucking two days behind schedule. You promised me the place would done at the end of the month. There’s seven days until that happens. One week, Clint. I’m not paying you to sit around and sweat all over my new floors. You and Devon need to pick up the pace.” In the typical, whiny, over the top bitchy voice that had become characteristic of Robert, he smugly stared down at the contractor, confident he’d made his point. The property developer and notorious slumlord had gotten slapped with fine after fine from the city after some journalist had done an expose in the paper two months prior. The city had made it clear: fix the houses up, or they will be condemned. In the end, it mattered not- he simply evicted the low income tenants and once the reno was done, he could charge whatever he wanted for the luxury apartment. Perhaps even an AirBnB. But it would all be for nothing if Clint and his partner didn’t get the place finished by the deadline. Thus, after the ass reaming that the contractor had endured for a solid half hour, and remaining silent for the entire diatribe, the young man stood up and looked down at the pudgy little Napoleon.

“We are down one man, Mr. Cabot. Had you not sacked Javi, we wouldn’t be ‘behind.’ You wanted to save money, so you have to give us the extra time to do the work.” Completely unperturbed by Clint’s physical scale and his stoic demeanor, Robert defiantly smirked at the monolithic man.

“We have a contract, you little shit. If its not done on time, you don’t get paid. So I suggest you get your lackey doing the paint to pick up the pace.” Face still apathetic and above all exhausted with dealing with this man for two months straight, Clint clicked the radio on his shoulder.

“Hey Dev. The owner wants to come talk to you. Where you at?”

“Just finishing up the second floor bedroom.” Devon’s chipper voice soared through the walkie talkie, a stark contrast to the husky, monotonous voice that Clint typically employed. Rolling his eyes, Robert spun around toward the door to give Devon an equal ass whooping, before he felt the strong, dusty grip of Clint’s gloved hand on his shoulder.

“You’re gonna need protective wear, sir.” Turning his head, Robert saw that Clint had his yellowed safety glasses, and had begun to take off his gloves. “Since you cut our budget, we don’t have extras. Take these.” Grimacing at this plebian’s disgusting workwear, Robert felt shivers fall down his spine. “It’s in the contract, sir. No one on site without protective gear.” In a huff, he snagged the glasses and gloves from Clint, and slipped on the sweaty, still warm gloves, and the glasses. As he was finally walking out, Clint capped the man off with his own protective helmet, still sticky with sweat, and covered in sawdust.

The man waddled across the front yard, stomping over the freshly planted boxwoods and azaleas. Entering the foyer, he shouted out for Devon, who returned his call from upstairs. Climbing the stairs, he began to feel a bit dizzy. Perhaps it was the fresh latex paint that was wafting from every crevice of the house, or maybe it was the disgusting sensation of Clint’s fetid sweat coating his hands and dripping down his forehead onto the freshly pressed suit. Either way, the sensation subtly grew with each step inside the house.

Entering the room, he immediately turned red with rage. Devon stood there, dim as ever, shirtless with no protective gear on whatsoever. Of course it was some power play that Clint had done, he’d give him this one. He was surprised with himself to see that his anger was quickly subsiding, something that was particularly out of character for him.

“Oh, Mr. Cabot! What’s up? What do you think? Place is lookin’ good, right?”

“No, Dev… it’s n… it’s not looking… ugh.” Robert rubbed his temples, a piercing headache starting to unfurl in his brain.

“You okay, sir? You need to sit down or something?” Robert continued to rub his head, the texture of the yellow leather gloves against his skin, rubbing the dirt and dust of the worksite onto his sweating skin. “Fuck, sir. You lost some weight over the past few months, huh? You’re looking great!” As Robert took a seat on the ladder, he looked down at the sagging three piece suit that once fit like a sausage casing.

“I… I’ve been going to the gym… Thanks for noticing, Dev. Listen, we need to…” Devon sauntered over to the ladder, absentmindedly leaning on it. It wobbled for just a second before he steadied it, but not before the can of tan paint came crashing down on the hardhat, coating Robert in a thick layer of beige sludge.

“Oh fuck! You okay, sir? I’m so sorry… You’re completely covered.” Robert flicked the paint from his arms, which had mysteriously not landed on the glasses or gloves. What would have caused inconsolable fury from Robert suddenly washed him with a sense of comedy. He burst out laughing, his voice seemingly a few octaves lower.

“It’s no problem. This suit needed to be tossed out anyway.” Dev smiled earnestly, and slapped Robert on the back, laughing along. “Let me go get cleaned up, and we can discuss the timeline on the house.” Robert stood up from the ladder a few inches taller, and considerably slimmer. As he walked toward the bathroom, Dev called out once more.

“Hey, I know that Javi left some extra clothes in the bathroom. Should fit you, now that you’re all mister muscle now.” Robert turned around just in time to catch the flirtatious wink that Dev had given him. He smiled, and walked to the bathroom.

He shut the door and looked in the mirror, he sure was coated, but interestingly enough, the paint seemed almost dry already. They must’ve gotten some great quick drying latex paint! He took off the helmet, letting his slick, sweaty black hair flop out. Thank god he wouldn’t be needing to wash paint out of his hair, he’d done it so many times before, and it’s a pain in the ass. He quickly stripped the heavy suit, and finally saw just how much weight he’d lost- easily 100 lbs. Though unsure of how the tan paint had gotten underneath the thick fabric of his clothes, he admired himself in the mirror for a moment. He could recall working out for the first time, something that had never even crossed his mind before and yet, there the memories were. He slipped Clint’s gloves off, and began to peel the elastic paint from his skin.

He compared the sensation to peeling skin off after a considerable sunburn. It peeled off in small strips in the beginning, just a few millimetres off his calloused, tattooed fingers, but once he’d gotten in the groove of it, he was peeling off larger and larger tracts of it. Snagging a little tag on his neck, he pulled downward as the elastic sound of stretching latex echoed in the bathroom. The strip ran from his thick neck, across his broad, muscled shoulder, and all the way down his firm arms and intricate inked sleeves.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck, that feels good.” He let out a sigh of relief, the feeling of the open air against his slick, sweaty skin felt almost orgasmic. Though, the moment wouldn’t last forever. Opening his eyes, he saw his massive hands opening and closing into a fist… independent of Robert’s will. “He… Hey…” His hand quickly gripped the other bit of peeling paint on his opposite shoulder, ripping it off in one continuous motion. The snap of the rubbery paint disconnecting with his mitts and falling to the ground in a hollow pile signaled to Robert that his right arm was no longer under his control either. His hands slammed together in a loud, wet clap, rubbing the slick sweat between his palms.

“Wait… Wait a second…” He mumbled, as his hands grasped either side of his waist, and pulled. He felt his body stretch underneath the paint, expanding until he could hear the rip from his pecs all the way down to his navel. His hands ripped the paint from his chiseled chest and broad back, exposing the meaty pecs and cobblestone abs glistening with sweat. His sticky pits wafted an unfamiliar scent of unwashed musk, built up after days of hard labor from dusk til dawn.

“I said WAIT GOD DAMN IT!” His left hand clamped his mouth shut, while the other wagged it’s finger in condemnation. He could see the dirt and grime under his fingernails for but one moment before they began once again to work on the paint, pulling from either side down his groin. He moaned loudly, breathlessly, as his cock burst out of it’s cocoon, thick as a beer can and pierced with a massive prince albert. His balls followed suit, two pendulous eggs in their hairy sac dropped straight down as the paint was ripped from the sticky, musty skin. His fingers rubbed the tip of his head, pre dripping from the shiny silver piercing. So sensitive, so naughty, so pleasuring, so giving…

While his right hand played with his new toy, the left began to peel down his legs, as if taking off a tight pair of the skinniest jeans. His thick quads and inked calves were covered in a blanket of hair, leading all the way down to his ankle. Pulling off the paint on his feet, sweat shot out like a bursting water balloon as his huge, smelly size 15 feet slapped against the tile. His toes cracked as they stretched out, the words “Lick them” immortalized in ink on each toe. Standing there, bare ass naked in all of his 6'3 muscled glory, Robert could do absolutely nothing as his body flexed and posed in the mirror. It walked over to the pile of old clothes in the corner of the bathroom left by his predecessor only a day before. He slipped on the damp, wet socks, the yellowed, stained jockstrap, and the dirty, dusty cargo pants before shoving his feet into the ripe, stinking work boots. He tied them tight, squeezing the dank sweat from the wool socks and well worn insole.

Robert moaned, perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to be a passenger in this body. He wouldn’t mind it, frankly. He’d have eye candy every day from now on and a full on sensual explosion with every experience. He eagerly awaited his fingers peeling the paint from his face, and as it did, he felt himself being pulled away.

“No, wait. Stop!” He cried as it stubbornly adhered to his face, but it was no match for the sheer force from the new occupant of his body. His biceps straining, his abs rippling, the paint began to give way before coming off in a single piece in a loud “schlorp” revealing the smouldering face of a sexy young bearded man. Robert looked at the face smirking at him, unable to speak, unable to move, now only a mask that was cast aside to the pile of discarded waste. He could only watch as the man licked his rank pits and jacked his hard, veiny cock until he blew his load all over the pile that now housed him. That tangy, salty taste being the last thing he could sense before he was picked up and tossed into the bin.

Marco opened the door to the bathroom, walking back to Dev, who’d just finished speaking with Clint. The two smiled at their new carpenter, relieved the job would absolutely be done on time.

“Fuck yeah, babe. You’re definitely hired, right Clint?” The contractor nodded on his way out of the room.

“Better get to work on the trim, Marco. Finish soon and we can clock out. Beer and… chill at my place afterward.” He firmly groped the wet bulge in Marco’s pants before heading out to finish the paperwork.

“You got it, boss.” Marco said, as he winked at Dev. The trim would be done quickly for sure. He knew Clint and Dev liked their men fresh off the site for chill time, and he was itching to finally take a load off. But first, take out the trash.