Not Your Stop
#2 of Scraps
The first of two little writing exercises I did a few months ago. These were based on some prompts I received from some of my followers on Tumblr. They're incredibly bad, but I'm posting them in the hopes that having something of my own in my gallery will spur me to write some more in order to bury these.
To any unfortunate readers who stumbled across this and read through it: thank you very much. I love you.
Original Prompt: "Having two big-bellied hunks sandwich you between 'em."
I'm on a subway train, going home from work. I've been on it for a while, since I leave a little earlier than most. The next stop, though, is at the busiest station in town, and the clock just struck 5 on the dot.
I'm sitting in one of the seats with a briefcase politely resting on my lap, and I see an older lady board the train. Gentleman that I am, I offer up my seat and take a standing position to hold onto one of the vertical poles instead. A couple of minutes pass as more people pour onto the train. It's getting awfully crowded, but thankfully I seem to be in a little bubble of open space that includes both me and the pole.
Or at least, it does until one of the largest men I've ever seen lumbers onto the train car.
He's a mammoth bull who's practically been poured into a beautiful black suit. It's not that the suit is too small -- it's remarkably well tailored. No, it's just that he is just so big in just about every way possible. Broad shoulders, beefy neck, tree-trunk thighs and massive hooves the size of dinner plates... his horns threaten to scrape the ceiling. It's a wonder they don't.
But of all the bull's features, I find myself transfixed by his belly. It pulls his suit and waistcoat taut around its girth, and its round, full shape makes my mouth water. I swallow and avert my gaze lest the owner of this prodigious bulk catch me staring.
He brushes past me, rumbling some semblance of an apology in a deep, bassy voice that makes my bones shake. There's simply nowhere for him to sit comfortably, so he grips one of the hanging leather straps on the ceiling and takes a place behind me. I can feel his belly squish into the curve of my back.
Perfect fit.
My cheeks redden as the bull makes no attempt to move. I'd speak up, but my throat is suddenly dry. Yet another monstrous beast has boarded the train -- a tiger with a startlingly similar build to my new bull train-buddy, wearing a navy blue suit. He looks towards me as he boards, and my heart skips a beat as the man smiles at me. He's heart-meltingly gorgeous. I can feel myself swoon in the brief, shining moment of bliss before I realize the smile isn't for me. It's for the bull.
He walks over and claps a hand on the bovine's shoulder, exchanging a jovial greeting that's completely unintelligible to me despite my proximity. This is because I realize what's about to happen next.
Sure enough, the tiger steps closer and takes the ceiling loop in front of me, inadvertently mashing his belly into my chest and squashing me backwards against the massive bull behind me, whose own behemoth gut molds against the shape of my back.
I wheeze as the air leaves my lungs. I'm firmly sandwiched between the two massive men, and they seem to have no idea I'm there. They carry on a conversation, cracking loud, lewd office jokes that send waves of laughter through their enormous bellies. With my face just under the two men's enormous pecs, I doubt they'd have heard me even if I'd had the courage to speak up. If I'd wanted to have the courage to speak up.
It's so warm between them. Their body heat radiates onto me in waves. Their round, full bellies are pressed so firmly against me that I can feel them breathing -- can feel their hearts beating. I feel my cheeks redden as I realize I'm fully, painfully erect against the lower portion of the tiger's massive tummy. There's no way he can't feel me pressing into him, even through the layers both of our respective suits provide. But he doesn't say anything. Not to me, at least. He and his bull buddy carry on like nothing's amiss.
After several minutes of blissful agony, I realize the train's stopped. I heave a sigh of relief tinged with a just a pinch of disappointment -- it's my stop. I move to at last squeeze out from between the two enormous men, mumbling a weak, stammering apology... but the tiger stops me, putting an arm around his bull friend's waist. My heart hammers in my chest, and I look up at them. They're both grinning.
Looks like I'll be riding the train a little longer.