Home Improvements - Part 3

By M. Greene published February 2, 2019

Timmy begins to be improved along with his home

Home Improvements

Part 3


I’ve been off from work for just over two weeks now and I’ve never felt happier in my life. I feel like I’ve left all the stresses of number-crunching and problem-solving back in that stuffy office.

Today, I’m helping Shane and Colin fix up the basement and carrying all the heavy oak flooring down for them to lay in the gym area is toning up my arm muscles very nicely. They do all the skilled stuff, of course, sliding the boards into position and making sure they fit together tightly, but having me to run up and down the stairs fetching whatever they need is allowing them to get the job done much faster.

The weather continues to be real hot and all I wear during the day are a pair of denim cut-offs and the new monkey boots Shane’s bought for me. The boots are very comfortable and when I’ve got them on I feel like a genuine builder like Shane and Colin, which is great. On the down side, my fear of bathing has not gone away, but I’m kind of used to being a bit grungy now and find I’m not as worried about it as I was before. Although I still can’t deal with the idea of stepping under the shower, I find I’m able to wipe my face and hands in the washbasin without feeling sick, so I guess things could be a lot worse…

“Good boy, Timmy,” Colin says as I hand the builders their first cold beer of the day. It’s about three in the afternoon and they’ve just finished the gym floor. The oak-wood is fantastic. Although the other basement rooms have been either tiled or plastered, the bare brick walls in here have been left as they are. Shane and Colin have sealed them with resin so they are dust-free and look clean and shiny. It gives the gym a no-nonsense, masculine look.

“It’s great,” I say, admiring how neat and straight the new floorboards are.

Shane takes a swig of lager and burps. “It’ll look even better when the weights machines and other equipment is all set up in here,” he says. He lights up a cigar, but instead of putting it in his mouth, he hands it to me. “Go on, Timmy, try it…”

I place the small cigar between my lips and take a tentative suck. The smoke feels real hot in my mouth, but the taste is not too bad. I inhale the second lot of smoke and it makes me cough a little, but also gives me a pleasant tingling sensation in my brain. After the third drag I start to feel quite dizzy…

The builders both laugh as I stagger slightly. Shane pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Timmy; you’ll get used to it in time…” I nod and take another puff. For a few minutes we smoke our cigars, drink our beers and chat about the stone floor tiles that are going to be laid in the rest of the basement rooms.

“Go put on a shirt, Timmy; we’re taking you into town,” Colin says, once our short break is over.

“Why?” I ask.

Colin smiles. “Let’s just say we got a couple of little surprises lined up for you as a reward for all your hard work this week…”

I head up to my bedroom to find a shirt, but I already know that I’ve got nothing clean to put on. I seem to have some kind of mental block about going to the laundry and keep forgetting to do so, despite having more time on my hands at the moment. I spend a few minutes lifting a selection of crumpled tops out of the bin bags in which I keep my dirty washing, sniffing each one and examining it for stains. Eventually, I find a polo shirt that’s not too bad and slip it over my head. I smell my armpits and nearly gag. Fuck, but they’re ripe! I guess it’s the heat and the constant sweating…

I scoot to the bathroom and wipe my arms and face with a damp face-cloth, which is the closest I can get to washing myself these days without feeling sick. I glance in the mirror and notice how long my blond hair and beard have gotten now. If Cassie saw me like this, she’d probably scream in horror at how messy and unkempt I look. It’s lucky I’ve managed to put off seeing her for the past three weeks…

We climb into the builders’ rusty old truck and drive to a downtown tattoo and piercing parlour run by a friend of theirs by the name of Lonnie. He’s about the same age as Shane and Colin and, like them, covered in tatts. Although Lonnie’s head is as smooth as a pool ball, he has a long, thick, ginger beard to compensate for his premature baldness. Both his earlobes are stretched out by those plug things that ‘modern primitives’ like to wear.

While the three friends chat with each other, I gaze at the various artistic designs which cover every wall in the shop. I’ve never been inside a tattoo place before, but now I’m here, I feel real excited about maybe getting some body ink. I wonder what I should decide to get done and where I should have it placed…

One of the builders, Colin, I think, but I can’t be totally sure as I have my back turned to them, says something important to me. I don’t rightly understand the word, but it makes me instantly relax. I continue staring at the tattoo designs, but in a glassy way, with my mouth hanging open.

“Take off your shirt and get in the chair, Timmy.”

I feel zoned out, but real happy, so I do as I’m told and watch as Lonnie slips surgical gloves over his hands and picks up his electric needle. “Where shall I put this first one?” the tattoo-artist asks.

I’m about to reply, but then realise that Lonnie is talking to Shane and Colin, not me, so I stay quiet.

Shane prods my left bicep with his forefinger. “Here…”

I’m in a state of sleepy euphoria as the needle buzzes away on my arm. It hurts a little more than I was expecting as the ink is permanently injected into my skin, but I’m in such a good mood I don’t make a fuss.

After about forty minutes, the design is finished. Lonnie wipes away some more blood and I look dozily down at my first tattoo. It’s my name: ‘TIMMY’, in black capital letters about an inch high. It curves around my bicep very becomingly. The vague notion flits through my foggy mind that I wish it simply read ‘Tim’, but Shane and Colin both look so happy with my new tattoo that I dismiss this thought almost as soon as I have it. The ink is their gift to me and ‘Timmy’ is what they like to call me, so I guess it’s totally the right choice. Anyway, it looks awesome…

Lonnie puts some stuff over my raw tattoo to protect it and then swabs my earlobes with a piece of cotton wool soaked in antiseptic. It makes them feel real cold. Before I really know what’s happening, he’s placed a kind of gun over each of my ears in turn and pierced them. It’s all over in a few seconds and, unlike the tattoo, there is no bleeding and it’s completely painless. I look in the nearby mirror and see that I now have a pair of gold stud earrings. They look pretty cool…

“When the holes are properly healed up, we’ll get you some nice steel rings to put in them, instead,” Shane explains, “but gold is better for fresh piercings as it won’t react with the wounds.”

After that, they take me to an old-fashioned barber shop nearby. As we enter the place, Shane says that word again which zones me out and then leads me shuffling zombie-like to the chair. He whispers something in the elderly barber’s ear and then he and Colin go outside for a smoke. I watch in the mirror as the old man wraps a towel around my neck and then drapes a sheet over me. He picks up a pair of electric clippers and begins to shave the sides and back of my head down to a number one. He doesn’t touch the top at all, which leaves a strip of my blond hair running from my forehead to the nape of my neck. I continue to stare at my reflection as the barber lathers up my face and shaves away the sides of my beard, leaving a goatee. He then wipes my face clean with a damp cloth and rubs some oil over what hair I have left.

The whole process only takes a few minutes and Shane and Colin return just as he’s finished. I snap out of my trance and see Shane pay the man.

“What do you think of your new look, Timmy?” Colin asks as I climb out of the chair.

I run a hand through my new Mohawk and smile. “I love it, but fuck knows what my girlfriend is going to say when she sees it…”

As we drive back home together in the truck, I feel almost delirious with happiness. We’re sharing the front seat and although it’s more than wide enough for two people, it’s quite a tight squeeze for three. I’m sandwiched between Shane to my left, who’s driving and Colin on my right. As we’re all wearing shorts, their bare thighs are pressed right up against mine. Not only that, every time Shane changes gear, his right hand brushes against my leg. In this close confined space, their musk is overwhelmingly strong and I’m soon sporting a boner in my tight pants. Although it smarts a little, I’m real happy with my tattoo and I think I’ll soon get used to having earrings. As for the haircut… It will grow back eventually, I guess… The important thing is that I feel safe and protected riding along with these two guys who, over the past few months have become real close friends…

This pleasant idyll is shattered by the sound of my phone pinging. When this happens, I know it’s going to be Cassie, my parents or, worst of all, work, trying to contact me. All of these are stressful in their own different ways. Cassie and my parents always ask me a whole heap of questions: Why am I being so distant these days? When am I going back to work? Have I been to see the doctor yet about my ‘little problem’? If it’s the office, it will be even worse; a question I can’t possibly understand or answer.

With a deep sigh, I lift my ass off the seat a little so that I can extract my phone from my pocket. This isn’t easy with the guys sitting so close on either side. I switch the phone on and see the familiar kitten icon that tells me it’s Cassie. As has been increasingly the case over the past couple of weeks, I find reading her text message pretty difficult. I sit there for a while gazing at the tiny letters, watching as they seem to move around and get all jumbled up with each other. I know that the individual letters go together to form words, but for the life of me I can’t work out what they are. This dyslexia issue or whatever it is seems to be getting worse. Today, I can’t seem to read at all. Maybe I need reading glasses or something…

“Having trouble?” Colin asks, seeing the way I’m frowning at the little screen.

I nod. “Yeah… Maybe I need to go to an optician…”

Colin chuckles. “Nah… You’re just too dumb to read, is all…”

Weirdly, the moment Colin suggests I’m dumb, I find I can’t help grinning. “Stop that…” I try to say, but I’m chuckling almost too much to speak. For some reason, the thought of being dumb is very arousing and my already stiff dick immediately starts threatening to burst out through the material of my pants. I squirm helplessly in the seat, shaking my head in amusement with tears of laughter in my eyes. “I’m not dumb…” I manage to gasp out between giggles.

“Sure you’re dumb,” Colin affirms. “The fact you can’t read that message fucking proves it…”

“No…” I’m a university graduate, I think. I can’t be dumb, can I?

Colin folds his muscular arms. “Okay… If you’re so clever, then tell me what the text says…”

Of course I can’t and for the rest of the ride home both the guys gently tease me about how dumb I am, which just makes me laugh all the more. A guy with a degree who can’t read? It’s a real joke…

Later that evening, my phone rings just as I’m clearing up the kitchen before turning in for the night. It’s Cassie again. I take the call and wince as she starts nagging me about why I haven’t replied to any of the texts she’s sent me over the past few days. I make a feeble excuse about having mislaid my phone, but she doesn’t buy this and continues her harangue. Why haven’t I contacted her lately? Don’t I love her anymore? Don’t I want to continue seeing her? I field these questions with reassuring but non-committal replies which only seem to annoy her even more. Am I coming over to her place this weekend? I hesitate before answering this one and she really hits the roof, shouting about how she hasn’t seen me for nearly three weeks and wondering aloud whether she should just call it quits and end our relationship…

As I listen to Cassie giving me earache, I’m aware of Shane’s musky body odour and realise that he’s walked quietly into the kitchen and is standing right next to me. His hand closes around my phone and gently removes it from my grasp. I can still Cassie squawking for a few seconds before Shane terminates the call.

“I’m sure you can do without that nagging bitch giving you a hard time,” he says, slipping my phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

I open my mouth to protest at this interference in my private affairs, but Shane says that word which always makes me zone out and relax. He then speaks to me very calmly and quietly for what seems like several minutes. Although I can’t quite understand what he’s saying, as I stare into his sparkling emerald green eyes, I realise that Shane is totally right when he says that I sure don’t need a nagging bitch like Cassie telling me what to do all the time…

“Okay, Timmy; you’re real tired, so it’s time you went to bed,” Shane says at last.

I come to and yawn. Yes, I do feel tired and badly need to sleep, but as Shane turns to leave the room, I grab his arm. “Could I have my phone back, please?”

Shane shakes his head. “It’s best if I hang onto it for now, Timmy; you can’t read text messages anyway and you know that trying to do so only gets you upsets…”

I nod and let go of his arm. He’s right. The phone does upset me. It’s probably better that Shane looks after it for the time being…

The next two days are totally back-breaking. Shane and Colin are laying the stone floors in the rest of the basement rooms and I spend hours ferrying buckets of cement and stacks of heavy tiles from the yard down to where the two builders are busily cementing them in place.

Finally we finish the work and the basement is complete. All that’s needed down there now are the furnishings. We go upstairs to the kitchen and sit around the table drinking beers and smoking cigars. It’s around four in the afternoon and still very warm.

“You done real good, Timmy,” Shane says, patting my arm. “You helped us both out a lot these past couple of weeks. You know… I reckon you should give up that office job of yours and come to work for us permanently…”

I blow out a stream of smoke and think for a moment about what Shane just said. “I guess I do quite like building work,” I begin. “It’s physically tiring, but kinda less stressful than computer programming…”

“You’re always going on about how much you hate your present job,” Colin says, gently rubbing my back. “Be honest with yourself, Timmy. It’s far too pressured and you’re just not up to it…” He smiles at me kindly. “You’re way too dumb to do office work and you know it…”

I nod. “Yeah…” He’s right. I’m way too dumb to do office work… I stub out my cigar and sigh.

“We can take you on as our apprentice,” Shane continues. “Train you up to be as good as us at what we do…”

I think about the financial implications of this. “But it means I won’t be able to pay you anymore. The house won’t get finished…”

Colin slips a muscular arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. The delicious smell of his musk intensifies. “You don’t need to worry about paying us anymore, Timmy.” He nods towards his partner. “The two of us have been talking and we’ve decided that we like living here with you very much. Over the past few weeks this house has become like our home.” He smiles. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to sell our old place and move in here with you permanently…”

“Wow…” I feel completely elated. I had been starting to worry about the prospect of living here on my own once the house is finished. I know that I would really miss Shane and Colin when they left. “That’d be great!”

“Obviously, we’d carry out the rest of the improvements for free,” Shane adds.

Then my mood sours. I’ve thought of another problem. “You guys are both welcome to move in here, but there’s the mortgage to consider,” I say sadly. “Even if you both pay rent, I doubt I could afford to keep up the payments without my present salary…”

“You gotta stop worrying about money, Timmy,” Colin says. He’s still got his arm around me and he uses his free hand to give my thigh a reassuring stroke. “You can’t work it all out because you’re not very bright…”

“Remember, Timmy, you’re real dumb…” Shane adds.

“Yeah… I’m real dumb…” I repeat, grinning. As usual, this idea cheers me up considerably.

“So you’ll leave your job and work for us full time?” Colin asks.

I nod my head. “Yeah… Why not?”

“Then it’s a deal,” Shane says.

We all shake hands on it and I jump up to fetch some more beers from the fridge to celebrate. When I turn back around to put the cold tins on the table, I notice that Shane has my phone in his hand and is typing something on it.

“Okay, that’s done,” Shane says, putting my phone back in his pocket. “I just emailed your office to tender your resignation.” He shrugs. “They’ll probably send something through the post that you’ll need to sign, but it’s essentially a done deal.”

I nod my head. Although the prospect of changing careers is slightly scary, I know I won’t miss all the stress and headaches my old job used to cause. “Of course,” Colin says, “as our apprentice, you will have to do as we tell you and show us a lot of respect, Timmy…”

“How do you mean?” I ask.

“At work, do you usually call your boss by his first name?” Colin asks.

“I guess not…” I say. Although my old office was more formal than most these days, I don’t say this because Colin is staring at me with those intense cobalt blue eyes of his again. He’s not smiling anymore and there’s something about his stern look which scares me a little.

“So I think you should address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr Wolf’ from now on…”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply timidly. My dick twitches in my pants. This does feel right now Colin has mentioned it…

“Good boy!” Colin points to his partner. “And so, who is this to you, Timmy?”

I look over towards Shane. He’s not smiling either. Luckily, I know the correct answer to the question. “That’s Mr Mullen, Sir…”

“Good boy, Timmy. I can tell that this is gonna work out just great.” Colin says, getting to his feet. “We’re going to go shower and rest for a while now and after you’ve cleaned up in here, you should take a nap too. Wake us up at seven, okay?”

The two builders walk out of the kitchen, leaving me to clear away the empty tins and empty the brimming ashtray.

Much later that evening, after we’ve all eaten and I’ve washed up the dishes, we sit together in the lounge watching football on our massive television. Due to today’s excitement over completing the basement, Colin and Shane moving in and me changing jobs, I’ve had quite a few more tins of beer than usual and I’m feeling a little drunk. I’m slumped on the sofa between the two builders and I can hardly keep my eyes open as they watch the game. My head keeps drooping forwards and eventually, I end up resting it on Colin’s bare chest. Far from resenting this, Colin seems to like it. He grunts contentedly and begins running his fingers through the remaining strip of hair on my otherwise shaved scalp. I close my eyes. I feel so relaxed in the company of these guys, surrounded by their delicious-smelling musk…

I doze off for a few minutes…

When I open my eyes again, the TV is not showing sports anymore, but gay porn with the volume turned down. A huge black dude and a slightly smaller, but still impressively muscular, white man are lying on a bed passionately kissing each other’s mouths. After they finish kissing, the black man crouches down and is mounted by the white man, who pushes his big dick deep into his chocolate ass. The black one moans and jacks at his own long dick as the white one starts fucking him faster and faster… I feel my dick stiffen in my pants. It’s an erotic scene…

I then hear the faint sound of a zip being unfastened and look down to see that Colin has undone his flies. Continuing to stroke my hair with his other hand, he pulls his hefty cock out of his pants and begins playing with it as he watches the on-screen action. I stare entranced as Colin’s cock gets fully hard and he begins to jack it in earnest, running his fist up and down its length. The thought runs through my mind that, right now, I really need to suck dick and a flood of saliva fills my hungry mouth. I shift my head slightly on Colin’s chest.

“Go on, Timmy…” I hear Colin whisper in my ear. “Suck it… You know you want to…” He stops stroking my hair and begins to apply gentle but insistent pressure to the back of my skull, slowly pushing my head down his smooth, muscular chest towards his crotch.

I slip down onto the floor and place my parted lips over the head of Colin’s hard rod. It’s already glistening, wet with pre-cum, which I can taste on my tongue as I start to suck.

“Good boy, Timmy…” Colin murmurs. “Good boy…”

Although I’ve never given head to a guy before, I somehow instinctively know what to do. Keeping my teeth well out of the way, I bob my head up and down, sucking Colin’s stiff meat and using my tongue to give him maximum pleasure. His cock is real big; at least nine inches long, so I can’t get more than about half of it into my mouth, but by the way he’s moaning, this doesn’t seem to matter. As I continue to suck, I’m vaguely aware that Shane has stood up and is taking pictures of what I’m doing, holding the phone at various different angles. The room is quite dim, so the automatic flash goes off several times while I carry on slobbering away on Colin’s rigid tool.

After a few more minutes, Colin suddenly gasps and I feel a jet of warm spunk coat my tongue and the inside of my mouth. His cock slips out from between my lips and a couple more splurges of his mess splash over my face. Meanwhile, Shane continues to take a whole load more close-up photographs and, out of the corner of my eye, even in the semi-dark lounge, I can see that he’s using my phone to do all this.

Colin finishes shooting his load and leans back on the sofa. “Clean me up, now, Timmy,” he orders, his tone quite soft, but insistent. I kneel between his legs and lick the remaining cum from his cock and a few stray drops which have splashed onto his thighs. I then scrape away what’s gone onto my face and lick the slime off my fingers. The taste is pretty funky, but weirdly, I don’t mind that much. I realise that, deep down, having my mouth full of a man’s spunk is what I always wanted…

Shane crouches down next to me and scrolls through the pictures he’s taken of me sucking Colin’s cock and of my face afterwards covered with streaks of cum. There’s even a short video sequence showing me performing oral sex as enthusiastically as any crack-whore from the gutter.

“See what a little faggot you are now, Timmy?” Shane says, grinning.

I nod. He’s right. I am a faggot. I just sucked a man’s cock and enjoyed every moment of it. “Yes, Mr Mullen, Sir…” I say at last.

“What if I told you that I’m gonna send these images to every single one of your contacts?”

I think about this for a moment. I guess I should feel alarmed and mortified, but I don’t. The truth is that I don’t really care.

“Well, boy?”

I shrug. “You can do so if you like, Sir,” I reply.

Shane laughs, taps on my phone for a few seconds and then holds it out towards me. “Better if you do it,” he says.

Without hesitation, I raise my forefinger and press the ‘send’ button.

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