- Thomas, Alone with his Thoughts
- by Inganno
- It’s not like he couldn’t wait to go home and unwind that way. It was more that he was just being impatient, which was strange for the goat. Usually, he could fly through the day without a care in the world, or anything even remotely getting to him negatively. If he could handle Benson’s orders, Muscle Man and High Five’s antics, and Mordecai and Rigby’s… well, he didn’t know what to call that. If he could handle all of that, why couldn’t he handle this?
- Sadly, his body was already warmed up and his thoughts refused to leave the idea alone. There wasn’t even a trigger behind it. It was just a single stray thought that seemed to evolve from one idea to the next. Little things, like did Mordecai have equipment being a bird? Or maybe why he and Rigby always skulked around the park naked? Was Benson always so irritable because he was so pent up, or maybe because Skips was immortal, he had a lot of experience? All those little things just jumped from one to another.
- Eventually he couldn’t help but place himself in front of each and every one of them, letting his imagination run free, enacting such simple but enticing labor. It became more complicated when it went from simple one on one to several around him, and he found himself not even thinking himself as a worker, but more of a tool.
- He hit his head with the inside of his wrist and tried to shake the thoughts of it out. “Get it together, Thomas,” he grunted as he continued to rake leaves from the park floor. “You can manage for another two hours. Then you can go home and let one off in peace like everyone else does in the privacy of their own home. And besides, you shouldn’t be thinking of your coworkers like that.”
- As much as he tried to shake himself free of his inappropriate thoughts, they just wouldn’t budge. Instead, they became more vivid, and even began to add dialogue that he knew would probably never be muttered by any of his coworkers. Words and phrases that made him seem like some sort of submissive thing more than an actual person.
- “Quit it, Thomas,” he told himself, raking faster, and making his job more sloppy then needed to be. He moved around more than he needed to as well, making it difficult to focus on one spot at a time. But he thought that by doing it, it would keep the tightness in his briefs from being noticeable to anyone around the park. Even if it was concealed properly, it was still a problem for him.
- “You’ve had woodies at work before and you were able to manage it then. You can do it again,” he assured himself as he tried to work harder. In actuality, the whole thing was making it much worse, and made him more disgruntled than focused.
- At some point, he was able to bag up the leaves into a few garbage bags and deliver them to Benson nearby. He chucked them into the back of the golf cart, and readied the gumball machine to drop the leaves off at the park compost heap.
- “Good job, Thomas,” Benson said to him. He looked through his chart and time table and gave a small smile. “I’m glad I put you on the job instead of the slackers. Snack bar duty seems to be all their good at lately.”
- Thomas smiled at approval of the comment. “Thanks Benson, but you give the guys less credit than what they deserve. They’re a pretty cool bunch of guys.”
- The gumball simply muttered something under his breath and dropped his clipboard on the passenger side of the cart. “Take a break, Thomas. I’ll call you on the radio when I have something else for you to do.”
- The goat then watched his boss drive off on the park path, presumably toward the park compost heap. He kept his smile as he watched him leave, wondering what he should do with the time he was given.
- But his thoughts quickly shifted the issue that he was trying hard to bury. Suddenly, he was given an opportunity to fix this. It wasn’t really sanitary to do it at work, and it certainly would be a little dangerous especially if one of his coworkers caught him, but maybe if he took just five minutes…
- “No, no, no,” he repeated, walking in the opposite direction of the path toward the house, “I am not going to do that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to adjust himself through them to make sure nothing was noticeable. “I’m gonna go to the house, prop my feet up, get a drink, and relax until Benson needs me for something else.” He repeated what he just said in his head, over and over, like a mantra to keep himself in check.
- The trek to the house didn’t take all that long, and the first thing he did as soon as he got inside was get himself a drink of water. Above his own “selfish” needs, he was parched. He downed a glass of water from the kitchen faucet and tossed the cup into the sink. Now he just needed to take the time to relax.
- He planted himself on the couch and put his feet on the table. He knew that there was a house rule against that, but a broken rule here or there wouldn’t kill him if it were rarely done. He rested his head on the back of the couch and looked up at the ceiling. For a moment, his mind was completely clear of thoughts. There were no complicated positions, or horrid dirty talk, or his body being used in strange ways. No, he was content for that moment.
- But though his mind was at ease, his body was a different story. That warming sensation moved from his pelvis up to his head, and the thoughts crept back again. This time, they came in worse possible ways: dangerous ways that he could only imagine in a dark fantasy.
- “You gotta be kidding me,” he yelped, sitting forward and dropping his feet onto the floor. He weighed in his options. He had only been on break for about ten minutes and there was no work from Benson yet. He had only a little under two hours to go before he could go home. He wondered if he could make it.
- His mind told him that he could not. This was made apparent when his body moved on its own to the nearby bathroom, where he promptly locked the door, and made sure the blinds were down in the small nearby window. He was happy that nobody could see in there anyways from that level outside, but he didn’t want to take the chance.
- “Just do this real quick,” he said to himself, “two minutes and then head back to work like nothing happened.” He stared at himself in the mirror and nodded.
- His hands worked quick, undoing his button flap and then the zipper. He didn’t bother dropping his pants, opting instead to bring himself out through the flap in his brief. He felt at ease already when his member met with the cool air of the house air conditioner. That alone made it worth it. He suddenly felt like taking his time and making it really a worthwhile experience. But that wasn’t going to happen. He quickly grabbed a hold of himself and started a quick and steady pace.
- He gasped a bit from the initial touch by himself, but that quickly subsided in the way of a slow euphoria. He enjoyed the feeling more than he’d ever admit. Him. Mr. Niceguy. Mr. Pushover. Mr. Submissive. And then came those thoughts again.
- He imagined himself being bent over the sink he was standing in front of, and feeling something enter him with little regard to gentility. It was powerful, just how rough this imaginary person was. He tried to give him a face he wouldn’t recognize, but all he could do was think of his coworkers. Mordecai and Skips were of a decent level enough to do the deed, but Rigby and Muscle Man seemed too short to stand that tall. He had no idea if Benson could even do it consider he was more machine than man. His mind was sane enough to keep High Five Ghost and Pops out of his thoughts.
- He picked up his pace, trying to speed the process up. He needed to get this out of his system as soon as possible. It meant that he could focus and his imagination could take a break. It certainly was going into overdrive then.
- Thomas found himself bring his body down to floor, assuming a position on all fours, with his dominant hand continuing the act on himself. His mind continued to fill with thoughts of smut and lust: One in each orifice now. He was being treated rough by his two assailants, but he liked it. He let out an audible moan as he imagined the one in front of him grabbing his horns, and thrusting into the inside of his mouth repeatedly, until that climaxed profusely. He did his best to try and force a sensation of warm seed trickle down his throat, tasting everything the man was. That person would then disappear, only to be replaced with a new member, ready for his imagination to tear apart hungrily.
- His mind made him out to be a toy: nothing more than a thing to be used by his friends, coworkers, and random strangers he deemed attractive. But his coworkers seemed to take forefront today, and he couldn’t help himself.
- He knew he really wasn’t this way, asking for it and wanting it all the time. But every so often, he just wanted to feel like a thing and not a person. It was rare, but when it happened, it attacked him feverishly as it did then. It wasn’t who he was, and it was something he would never be. But his fantasies told a different story then, and he embraced them as he thought of being used again and again by the people he worked with.
- The goat let out a curse as he felt himself coming close. He tried to make the last thought count: dreaming of the two on both sides releasing at the same time. His mind tried to enact the swallowing again, but added in the sensation of being filled from behind as well, and feeling his body warm over from the euphoria.
- He felt his shaft pulse in his hand, and gasped as he shot several ropes of white onto the bathroom floor. He gripped at the carpet and let his body do the rest, gritting his teeth, and shutting his eyes. All that frustration and lust emptied out of him in a matter of seconds, leaving only a mess on the floor and the goat sprawled out with it.
- He took a few breaths to keep himself steady mentally. “Okay. You did it,” he said to himself. “You’re done now okay. So go get cleaned up, and head back out like nothing happened.”
- After a few seconds of procrastination, he grabbed some toilet paper from near the toilet and cleaned the floor and himself up, making sure to soap the tiles with the hand soap near the sink. He felt ashamed doing it all of a sudden, like he had broken trust somewhere, but overall, he felt better. It was a good feeling.
- Once all was said and done, he flushed the commode of his evidence and washed his hands. He then walked back out into the living room as if nothing had happened.
- “There you are!” Benson alerted him from the couch. It caught the goat off guard, and made him jump back in fright. “Did I scare you?” the automaton asked with a smile.
- Thomas hesitated to answer at first, his mind a buzz with a sudden panicked inquiry. “I’m… I’m… yeah, you freaked me out a bit, but I’m fine.” He tried to calm himself as his mind pondered if Benson had heard him in the other room.
- The gumball machine nodded and stood up from the couch. “Sorry about that,” he apologized earnestly. “I thought you’d be here, so I just decided to swing by and give you your next job.”
- Thomas gulped and tried his best to recompose himself. “What is it?” he asked as he reverted to a calmer work mode.
- Benson’s smile widened, almost like he knew something. This terrified the young man.
- “We’ve got some complaints about a beehive near one of the picnic areas on the east end of the park,” he explained. “I need you to grab a ROD out of the shack and WHACK that beehive OFF of the tree.” He put such emphasis on the words it was almost painful. He knew.
- Thomas blushed as hard as he ever did in his life. He thought for sure he was about to get fired, but instead, Benson just laughed it off and gave him an order.
- He didn’t complain, and he didn’t ask anything of it. Instead he just agreed to it and set out to the tool shed to get something long and useful to take care of the job.
- When he was out of his sight, Benson let a brief laugh and shook his head. It wasn’t like the rest of them hadn’t done it either.
a guest Oct 10th, 2012 373 Never
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