He didn’t like the name, but he didn’t have to. It wasn’t his first time giving his juice to Steve. The young man immediately began to stroke himself. It was huge with two large egg-sized nuts hanging down from it, coated in a dark fur of pubic hair. The thick, meaty member bounced slightly as it came out, battling gravity as it maintained its upward tilt by the sheer power of its erection. The promethean pulled down his sweatpants and his cock fell out like a falling tree. He knew why he was there and what he had to offer. Steve pulled out a cup from his drawer as the dog-boy closed the door behind and walked up to his desk. But more importantly, they made him money. But still, sometimes they could make for a good fuck. As for prometheans, he thought they were strange, aberrant freaks of nature, an accident of evolution, or maybe just the result of some sick fuck deep dicking the wrong beast somewhere. You could either make him money or cost him money. He saw most people as the sum of their parts, a collection of holes and cocks. Steve didn’t have much affection for prometheans. Luckily, Steve thought, he doesn’t smell like a mongrel. Yellow eyes, a long snout, a dark button nose and big pointed ears. His head was that of a dog, some kind of mixed mutt. Steve would have thought him a perfect specimen of a man, were it not for his… other features. Beneath the folds of his sweatpants was a large bulge, showing that the guy was completely hard. Where his hips met his legs, the waist of his sweatpants was tied loosely, revealing perfectly symmetrical cuts that plunged down below the thick, weighted fabric. The guy had an amazing body, swimmer’s build, tight, cut abs, and a nicely shaped chest.
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It was a young man–or whatever the fuck it was. Only thing worse than interrupting Steve was wasting his time.Īs the door opened, Steve saw the brave figure. There was a tentative turn of the doorknob, almost as if the hand that touched it regretted knocking and considered walking away.
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“Come in,” Steve’s voice boomed, somehow echoing in his wide, broad chest before bouncing off the walls of his office. Can’t be too safe when dealing with those he sold to, whether it was flesh, drugs, or something even more exotic… Pulling out the draw of his desk, he placed his neatly sorted cash inside, nestled carefully next to the cold steel of his gun. Eventually, though, business was business and his underlings had to make face-time with him. Even his own staff didn’t want to interrupt him, knowing that he never wanted to be disturbed during a sweat. Knock, knock! The door to his office seldom made a noise. And he was truly the master of his domain. Hundreds of dollars a night went into his pocket, all while he got bigger and meaner in his tank top in shorts. For every dollar his fingers touched, he imagined the dumb, hot whores he tricked into working for him. He always got excited whenever he totaled it all up. While he sat in his oversized chair, he decided to count through the previous night’s take. And power was what it took to run his empire.
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He liked that people were intimidated by him, even feared him.
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Many saw him as total muscle god, completely shredded and full of the arrogance and attitude that went along with the look. And for Steve, he never wanted to be too far away from his next pump. One of the perks of having your own office in your own business: you can do whatever the fuck you want with it. His massive chest heaved up and down as he caught his breath from his workout. His palms still burned from the scratchy bar of the weight bench. As Steve slumped into his office chair, he felt his arms pulsing with freshly fueled blood.