O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

HunkNet (mm musc)

by Aardvark

“Is this Terrence Kline?”

“Yeah, speaking.” Terrence put out his cigarette and perked up his ears.

“I want to congratulate you on your new employment at HunkNet.”

“Oh, great.” Terrence tried to sound excited and failed. He’d been out of work for five months and hadn’t been hired anywhere. When he saw the ad for HunkNet, an established subscription web site with an avid base, he figured he had no choice but to apply. Sure, it was money earned in a respectable way, but what self-respecting straight man works for a web site with a name like HunkNet?

A desperate one, he thought.

“Your orientation will begin at 9 o’clock next Monday morning. Do you own a shirt and tie?”

“No.”

“All of our employees are required to wear a shirt and tie. A jacket is nice but not required. Since you don’t own one, we’ll give you a complimentary set. Just this once, ‘kay?”

This person was so annoyingly cheerful. Terrence rolled his eyes. “Okay. I’ll be in at nine.”

“Great.”

Terrence Kline was the product of a middle-class suburban upbringing, average as can be. He was a hard-core techie and knew how to both design and run websites. He wasn’t a high school track star, didn’t work out, and had a slight, small build, standing at five-eight and weighing 150 pounds. His hairline had receded more than an inch from its original place, and his nose was sharp and beak-like. He had a naturally thin beard and didn’t shave more than once a week, and his fashion sense was sales at CostCo and Target.

When he was 17, he’d started to smoke, at 19, he began to drink. He graduated from college without honors, lived with his parents for six months and then struck out on his own. It had been downhill from there. He had gotten engaged to a woman who eventually got sick of his mediocrity and left him. A couple of other relationships had hit dead-ends, and then he lost his job. He had answered online ads from several Internet companies, and finally, HunkNet took the bait.

HunkNet’s offices were chic and comfortable, with white walls, white furniture, and lots of sunlight. It smelled like incense and gave off a general aura of purity and comfort, and Terrence felt instantly at ease. He stepped off the elevator and saw the head of man behind a reception desk. As he strolled closer, the man stood up, and Terrence was taken aback. The man--who he assumed was the receptionist--was wearing an unbuttoned white dress shirt, his pecs bursting out of the front, biceps straining at the short sleeves, and shoulders pushing at the seams. His head was shaved, but he had thick brown eyebrows and silky goatee that framed deep eyes and a full mouth. He smiled and revealed big white teeth that popped against his tan skin. “You must be Terrence Kline.”

Terrence couldn’t help but stare in awe. No wonder they called it HunkNet. “Y-yeah, I’m Terrence.”

The man reached under the desk and pulled out a designer shirt and tie, packaged together. “This is for the dress code.”

“Uh, you’re not wearing a tie.” Terrence stared at the pectoral cleavage bursting out of the shirt. “Is that a violation?”

“Nah, dude. After six months of employment, the rules get a little looser.” He motioned his head to the right. “The bathroom’s over there, you can change.” He flashed another toothy smile.

Terrence walked into the bathroom and was surprised to find himself horny. He wasn’t gay, was he? He looked down at his dick, protruding straight from his boxer-briefs. He knew he liked women. Maybe he was bi? Or maybe the man was just too magnificent to ignore?

Whatever the case, he slipped off his t-shirt and buttoned up the khaki-colored dress shirt. It felt soft against his skin, maybe a little silky, and was obviously too big for him. Terrence didn’t care; it was just too comfortable. He knotted the navy blue tie and was glad that he at least had the pair of black pants he was wearing. This would look ridiculous with jeans. Whatever, he was in this for the money, he thought. Do it for the money...

He stepped out of the bathroom and was greeted by the receptionist. “Want a tour?” Terrence accepted, and the receptionist pressed a button on the desk. “Mr. Brewer, sir, Terrence Kline is here for orientation.” He let up on the button and smiled at Terrence. “You can take a seat, he’ll be here in a moment.”

Mr. Brewer walked in, and Terrence experienced deja vu. Todd Brewer was clean shaven, with a thick head of blonde hair. Like the receptionist, he was six-five and radiated sex appeal. He wore a suit and tie, but even that couldn’t hide his bulging muscles. Terrence shook hands with him and winced at his grip.

“Todd Brewer. I’m the founder of HunkNet. I see you’ve met Ray.” He cocked his head over toward the receptionist. Todd flashed a Colgate smile, and Terrence began to wonder if everyone who worked here was gorgeous. If so, why had he been hired?

They walked down the halls, peeking into rooms full of computers, or people, even a couple photo shoots. The halls themselves were lined with framed pictures of models, all practically naked save for a thong, g-string, posing brief, or strategically placed hand. Terrence could feel himself growing more and more erect and began to adjust his pants while hoping Todd wouldn’t notice. What was up with him today?

“We have the standard servers that I’m sure you know how to use, right?” Terrence nodded. “Great! Well, we just had a photo session with a new, first-time model, and those pictures need to be uploaded, registered in the database, and put into the site. Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah, no problem. Where’s my computer?” Todd motioned to a door, which opened to reveal a room full of cubicles.

“You’re the one right there on the left.” He smiled that smile again. “Let me know when you’re done. I’m extension 100.”

Terrence sat down in a cushioned, rolling office chair and put in the photo CD sitting on his desk. He poked his head up and looked down the row of cubicles, and couldn’t believe his eyes. There wasn’t a woman in sight. Everyone there was a man, but not just any man. They were all like Ray the receptionist and Todd: huge muscles, gleaming white teeth, tan skin, square jaws, full lips. Blonds, brunets, jet-black, even a few redheads. Some had goatees, some had a soul patch, others had full beards or were clean shaven. All of them looked like they could model for the very company they worked for, and Terrence began to actually recognize some of them as models in the pictures lining the halls. He all of a sudden felt very, very out of place. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead, and the temperature suddenly seemed to rise thirty degrees.

“You must be new.” He heard a deep voice from the cubicle next to him, and the blond man stood up to his full height. “I’m Pierce.”

For the third time that day, Terrence sprang to attention. “I’m Rance. I mean... Terrence... uh...”

“Hey, Terrence.” Pierce extended his hand and Terrence tried to grasp it firmly, but was no match for the stud’s crushing handshake. Pierce was slightly shorter than Todd or Ray, probably about six-three, but was built in the same model fashion: wide shoulders, v-shaped back, rippling biceps. He wasn’t wearing a tie so Terrence knew he was a more experienced employee.

Terrence loosened his tie and wiped his brow. “Jeez, it’s really hot in here, don’t you think?”

Pierce smiled. “Oh, I guess I got used to being hot. I think you will, too.”

Terrence smiled weekly and sat back down in his chair. He could feel his shirt beginning to stick to his skin and raised his arm to look at the big stain under it. Gross. He wiped his brow again and looked at his screen. The picture CD had run itself and he double-clicked on the icon labeled “RK.”

The pictures popped up. They contained a beautiful, square-jawed, bearded man with thick, black hair and chiseled cheekbones, lying on a bed of ivy, one vine carefully intertwined over his genitalia. An Adonis. Then Terrence saw the name in the lower right-hand corner.

“Rance Kline.”

“What the hell?” He stared at the picture. The man was so attractive, so hunky, so NOT him. But the eyes. They had the same eyes... deep and green, never-ending; burning into your soul.

Pierce rolled his chair back so he could see into Terrence’s cubicle. “Something wrong, Rance?”

“It’s Terrence... my name’s Terrence.”

“I thought Rance was short for Terrence.”

“Who told you that?”

“You did, remember?”

“No...”

Terrence was sweating buckets, and the room felt like it was a thousand degrees. He pulled his tie off, threw it on the ground, and ran his hands through his thin hair. His whole shirt was soaked with sweat; it looked like he’d been pushed into a swimming pool fully clothed.

“Hey, Pierce...” He coughed involuntarily, and his muscles began to spasm uncontrollably, mouth twitching, eyes blinking, hands shaking. He could barely get the words out “Where... isss... the... bath... bathroom...”

Pierce didn’t seem to notice, or just didn’t care about Terrence’s condition. “End of this room, to your right.”

Terrence stood up and stumbled past the rows of cubicles; he was coughing and limping. Some of the models turned around and stared. One stood up. “Hey, you’re Rance, the new model, right?” Terrence just stared, his green eyes darting furiously around the room.

He got inside the bathroom and slammed it shut. Panting and shaking, he looked into the mirror and ran his hands over his cheeks and felt the new stubble. He had just shaved this morning, and already his beard was the thickest it had ever been. He knew he was changing. He knew he couldn’t stop it.

He splashed cold water on his face and got as close to the mirror as he could, so close his nose was almost against it. The facial spasms were beginning to die down, but he could see they were changing his bone structure. His eyebrows pushed outward and down, and as they did, they thickened. His lip curled and for the first time, he looked almost tough. He could see his upper lip darkening and the hair pushing out, thick and bristly, against his rapidly tanning skin. He could see his cock, clearly defined in his pant leg, and he could see it lengthening. His butt pushed out against the back of his pants, and he could hear it ripping. Pretty soon his quads were pressed in on all sides, too, and his pants were fiercely uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, but only squeaks and air came out.

“Rance? You okay in there?” He could hear Pierce’s voice.

He turned back to face the mirror, not wanting to miss a thing. His neck began to visibly thicken, and his lips were getting thicker. He reached up and pried them open, revealing a row of straight white teeth. When his hands came into view, he for the first time saw the veins bulging out of them. They were big, thick, virile veins, and they crisscrossed down his forearms, past his biceps, up his shoulders and neck, and he could see them all. A button popped off his shirt, then another, then another. A feeble attempt to moan or scream came out as a light, airy “Ahhh... ahhhhh...”

His pectoral muscles came into view, bursting out of his shirt, nipples hard. They had started out non-existant, and he had seen his nipples begin to push at the cloth of his shirt. When the buttons had popped off, his newfound pecs had come into view in all their glory. He rubbed his nipple and moaned as his abs literally popped out of his chest; two, four, six, eight. He lifted up one foot and rubbed it against the back of the opposite calf, now in view of all, having sprouted out of his trousers. He scratched the itch on his legs as they continued to tear through his pants. Six-two, six-three, six-four... His calves thickened and his quads were so huge now. He scratched the pubic hair around his expanding groin and grinned his new winning smile as he felt his ass finally become bare, tearing through his pants completely.

“Rance?” Through the mirror, he could see the door open. “Oooh, this is my favorite part...” Pierce stood in the doorframe, watching. Terrence--now Rance--didn’t care.

He felt his shoulders pushing against the seams of his shirt, and heard them tear through as well. His protruding collarbone disappeared into the mounds of shoulder and pectoral muscle; his traps thickened and grew. He ran his long, thick fingers over his chest and rested his head up against the mirror. Looking down, he could see the tip of his nose disappear from view, and for the first time, he was attractive. His mouth felt warm and he was still sweating like crazy. He then ran his hands over his beard and through his hair. It felt smooth, thick, and clean. His cheeks were clean shaven, but he had a full goatee and a half-inch wide strip running along his chiseled, square jaw.

His shirt had been torn to pieces by his rapidly growing body, and now it looked more like a starched khaki vest. His chiseled arms and beautiful torso rippled with so much power he barely keep his hands off of himself. His solid eight-pack and bulging biceps screamed for hot sex. He stared at the face in the mirror. It was a stunningly handsome face: thick lips, well-trimmed beard, square jaw, deep-set green eyes, heavy brows and shiny black hair. He ran his fingers down his abs, past his popping inguinal crease that served as an arrow to his cock. He rubbed his dick and in between his legs, where it was most sore. His pants were in shreds on the floor, and the only part that had stayed was bulging with his balls and erect fuck stick, looking like a bizarre, assless thong.

He held up his huge, hairy hands and stared at them, twiddling his fingers and admiring his powerful muscles that bulged out everywhere. The veins stood out fully from his literally, almost cartoonishly golden-bronze skin and hairy forearms, and led into that huge vein on his bicep - which, with his newfound knowledge of his body, he knew was called the Cephalic Vein. It bulged out of both of his bowling-ball biceps, and the hair on his forearms thinned out until he was hairless on his broad, perfect chest.
His nipples were still as hard as ever, and he saw a huge hand come out of nowhere and tweak one of them.

Pierce kissed the back of his neck. “Like that?”

Terrence felt his cock sprout to its full thirteen-inch length as a response to Pierce’s full, soft lips, but he denied it. “No... I’m not gay...”

“Okay, Rance, sure.” All of a sudden he was against the wall, Pierce’s lips tantalizingly close to his. The men could feel each other’s hot, short breaths. Pierce curled up his lip. “The guys always gamble to see who gets the newbie first. I won. Obviously.” He grabbed Terrence’s face and kissed him full on.

“No, no... I’m not gay... I had a fiancee once! I’m not gay! And my name is TERRence!”

Pierce smiled wickedly. “No, it’s not. And you’re too much of a big fuckin’ stud to not be gay, Rance.” Pierce shoved his huge hands into Terrence’s pants and began to fondle him. Terrence tried to not show emotion, but a smile crossed his face, until he was beaming with glee. He giggled and grabbed Pierce’s forearms, holding on with all his strength, propping his head against the wall because he didn’t have the strength to hold it any longer. “Yessssss...”

“You like that, don’t you, Rance?”

“Yeah...maybe I’m bi.”

“Nope. Just gay. And isn’t Rance a way more masculine, hot name than plain old Terrence?”

“Yeah... sooo much hotter...”

“And look at how you’re looking down at me, Rance. I’m six-three, which means you’re at least six-four, and around 215 pounds. And your beard. Isn’t your beard sexy?”

“I’m so hot, Pierce.”

“Damn right you are.”

Rance shoved his tongue down Pierce’s throat, catching the blond stud almost by surprise. They stumbled across the bathroom to the other side, and Pierce became the one up against the wall. Their tan muscles bulged, and their deep voices got louder until they were shouting, their hands banging against the walls as they made wild love. The men in the cubicle room snickered at the noises. This happened almost every day.

The next day, Rance rolled out of bed and licked his lips, feeling his whiskers and soft lips. He grabbed his long, soft cock and ran his fingers over his muscles. He could smell his scent in the air: completely masculine and irresistible. He pulled on a pair of black dress pants--fuck underwear, he thought, work had practically become a sex club--and grabbed the tightest white shirt he could find. Since he’d worked there for six months, no tie was needed. He buttoned just two buttons, which pulled the shirt just close enough to hide his nipples. His pecs pushed through and his top four abs were clearly visible to the world. He raised both of his strong hands to his face, and ran one finger over the other hand’s veins, like reading braille. He grinned and rubbed his soft beard, then grabbed his briefcase and head out the door, not even bothering to shower. His musky, manly odor would be his cologne for the day.

END

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