Signing On

[Tytn]

Signing On

Today was cold and wet. Rain streaked down the windscreen and side window of his Aunt’s small grey three door Fiat Punto, he shivered in his tracksuit top and pulled it tighter but it was no good, he’d have to put his coat on. He eyed it suspiciously on the floor. It was an old one from college, waterproof but still sucked the heat out of him. It was better for warm summer storms than cruel spring winds.

He’d survived college the previous year, he’d actually scraped in a passable mark despite all the larking around he and his mates had done. Hanging out at the university bar, intermixing with university students. Not much older than them but brighter with more money. He had discovered that they could easily pay for a night of drinks and so had been sucked into that lifestyle. Shots and shorts over pints. His alcoholic stamina had increased as with his self-confidence and drunken sex was better than none at all, and that was often more anonymous than he considered and a lot of the time the girls were too far gone to even disrobe him. Annoying and yet he decided it was not appropriate. He had had ‘the talk’ and had been told ‘the limits’ so that was past it all. However a drunken grope under a dark beer table in the student bar under the refectory was permissible and often the only option. Until even he had to extract himself to visit the men’s room and take a stall, draining out other fluids before allowing his bladder to empty itself, to avoid problems later on, on the walk or bus ride home for both reasons!

So. College was fun, then there was work. It was in an office, getting paid almost minimum wage in the post room for 10 hour days! He had applied for office work but then found his grades were just a little too low. He’d heard one of the board talk about him being a bright lad but clearly hadn't put the work in at school or college and perhaps he just wasn’t bright because surely he hadn't wasted it away had he?

Post room. It wasn’t all that bad. He got to walk around, deliver and collect post. Perhaps help it to the regular postmen outside. Their guy either grabbed it all in his oversized bag or brought a van. Well built and strong he had certainly excited him, causing odd shivers down his back, bringing up the hairs on his arms and encouraging him to pull the cart a little closer to him, to shield his waist. Almost like what he had done in college with others. Then the tanned 5ft strong postman was gone again and he had to put up with his day, occasionally seeking relief on the often deserted 4th floor gents end stall, the quietest in the building due to it's odd layout.

Then, one day, a week ago there had been a meeting upstairs. Most of the staff went and it was just him and the janitor left out, they did their rounds and work and when people came out from the board room they were subdued and quiet. They returned to their desks. A few started emptying drawers, packing up files and soon were putting up the flags over their cubicles showing they had files to collect or needed delivering.

He was quiet, he hoped to hear something but they were all quiet. It was only after making his 4th trip down to the records room he found out the company was going under. Poor investment, bad decisions at the top and they were downsizing. This company was quite large and they had a lot of offices, but this was the one that was closing. He’d also be sacked too.

He had been there so little he only had a small amount of pay, of severance they called it. A few hundred pounds, nothing really. He helped until the last days, loading files galore from the basement storage into the lorries parked outside. Rolled in the back in large metal cages. Sealed with straps and tags, strapped in and then, his semi last trip to the basement revealed shelves being removed and stacked to one side. Loose papers being gathered and either were being shredded or stacked in loose boxes. The stores guy sat forlornly in a corner and when he had arrived he was told the guy had to take retirement, and so after a few more hours he and a few others ended up in the pub down the road and he was introduced to pints.

He didn’t goto work the next day, there was no work. His final pay was in the bank and he was hungover so badly his stomach had performed backflips at the mere mention of food. He rose every hour or so, only to refill a pint glass of water and empty the accumulated contents of his aching bladder. That day he was sure his kidneys had an admirable workout. His aching gut acted as an alarm clock, swollen and painful, forcing his boner to wake him before a mere touch caused him to hurry to the bathroom and another long almost orgasmic waterfall. He knew he was not helping with the water but he also knew that was the best way to deal with the hangover, his mates swore by it! He just wished his bladder was larger.

Family had forced him on, and calls were made, and a brown envelope dropped through the door from the government. All sorts of questions, complications with double meanings and he had to get first his mother then his aunt to help. His father worked away, but when asked over the phone about it the old man had tried to explain to work through it but, well, he was an outdoor guy, working on the motorway so he wasn’t good with forms. His aunt was however, she worked in an office.

So. Form done, posted, calls made, received and now, 10am on a wet Tuesday had him into town, into the ‘dole office’ as it was colloquially called. His mates from college had reported it briefly too him and the arrival of money, days later followed by an afternoon in the pub and maybe some money to the family money pot but those friends didn’t work and shunned such silly things. He wasn’t sure he could. Work had been interesting and fun and he had briefly liked the money, pitiful as it was.

That morning he had been rudely woken, a pleasant dream that had left him awake in more ways than one until the duvet had been pulled off him, revealing him in only a pair of boxer shorts to hide his modesty, bulging but still mostly hiding it. A steaming mug of tea and dire warnings if he didn’t get up, revealed him downing the hot light brown brew and then without even a shower he pulled on a tshirt and tracksuit top followed by a pair of light blue jeans, grimacing as he forced himself in and hope it would sink soon. Either that or he’d need looser jeans, and he couldn’t afford them yet!

20 minutes later they were nearly in town, waiting in traffic, mostly silence in the car and he shivered. He was tempted to ask for heat but knew he had been naughty this morning by not getting up as apparently he had promised the night before over the dinner table. Thankfully his boner had sank away and was only semi hard, it's usual state.

The car struggled forwards, red, amber and white lights flared in the rain drops, people pulled in in front of others, cut corners and generally caused his Aunt to utter a few bad words, and then, then they were pulling into a side road. It was quieter for traffic but oddly busier, and then he saw why. Ahead the infamous sign of the benefits office. A queue of people stretching out of the door, and with little ceremony they pulled up to the kerb and he reached for the handle
“Behave yourself and try and get a job. At the very least, some money, benefits coming in. Your mother barely copes, you need to pull your wait not be a layabout, dragging your heels and…. Other parts of you” she glanced down then back up, expecting something, an apology perhaps? He didn’t know, he nodded
“I guess, I liked work” he replied, a bit more than a mumble
“That’s a positive attitude to have, so take it on, get other work, you’ve had a few months in an office and you can try and push it now, can’t you” she implored that look, then handed him a small money bag
“I’ve gotta goto work. There is enough change there for you to get home on the bus but not to spend it in the pub. I’ve put a couple of quid in there so you can get a hot drink and stuff in town if you need to but it's better not to, just get home soon as and do some tidying up or something”
“Yeah ok” he replied then pulled the door handle.

[Fred]

"He just wished his bladder was larger." I suspect he's going to wish this again.

[cutsleeve]

draining other fluids in the bar, he had to throw up? or the other thing that to explain this story should be reposted on the stronger interests side?? Shots and shorts over pints. did that mean he was in shorts at the bar or does shorts mean something else? I don't do shots as I don't like getting really drunk. I don't want the upset stomach from getting that drunk. too bad he did not do well in college. I did well in my classes. guessing at the end he was made to get up and get dressed and get in the car without pissing getting up?? surprised this is not in stronger interest where it talks about his aroused state. not sure exactly how the rules work here still trying to figure them out. guessing that was a big mug of steaming tea? I hope I'm not out of line if I ask if an edit would be done of this for the stronger interests??

[Tytn]

I thought this had been posted before, but even so I do recall how it was going, unfortunately, although this isn’t the last chapter, it also hasn’t been finished.