omnitf: The Builder “Framework is coming along very nicely,” you complimented your forem
The Builder
“Framework is coming along very nicely,” you complimented your foreman as you looked over the joists and beams that had been nailed together and inserted into the foundation. “Wiring and plumbing seem to be going well. How soon until the basics are finished?”
“Another couple of weeks. Had to get a special distributor to fit the client’s specifications for a green building.”
“Let me guess, recycled material?”
He nodded. “You know how people want to focus on the environment now.”
“Protecting the environment, I understand. Insisting on using materials that may not be the same quality, however, just seems like a crime to me.”
“Sometimes, you just have to work with what you have. Speaking of which, I think someone wants a word with you.” The foreman motioned curtly with his head.
You turned around to stare at your latest work in progress. The lad had grown a great deal since he helped with the last house. A sleeveless tank clung to his bulky frame as his nipples stood out against the tight material. Veins ran down his arms in rivers as a set of dog tags jingled and clinked in the gap between his pectorals. A shiny white helmet obscured all signs of the lad’s hair, but you already knew he’d buzzed it down at your request.
“What did you do to me?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Excuse me?”
“What the hell did you do?”
You shrugged. “Employ you, train you, pay you. Was there anything else you wanted to accuse me of?”
“What did you use on me, steroids or something?” he growled as he stepped closer.
You rolled your eyes. “Please. I’m a builder, not a drug lord. All I did was remodel you for the job, the same way I would any house. It did the trick. You’re adhering to the rules of the site and performing your job admirably. Thank you for actually wearing your hardhat today, by the way. It suits your hard head, a head so thick and square, so well defined. Why, I’d even go so far as to call it a block. Yes, a hard hat on a block head.”
“Wh-what’re you–?”
“A hard hat making it so hard to think. A block head blocking those pesky thoughts. Built like a brick, built like a wall, a wall that only I can pass with my words, my key.”
He stumbled and swayed. “S-stop–.”
“Yes, stop talking. Stop thinking.”
His hands clenched as he trembled. “No,” he practically whimpered.
“No thoughts, no worries,” you continued relentlessly. “No pesky doubts. Just my voice. It’s time for an inspection, Blockhead.”
His shoulders slumped. His arms rested lazily at his sides as he stared blankly ahead at you. “Ready for inspection,” he said in a dull monotone.
Your foreman whistled. “Damn. I never get tired of seeing that.”
“You think that’s special, wait till you see what I have in store next.” You smirk as you look at the young man. “You’ve been building nicely. A strong foundation is important in any building project.” You brush over each of the man’s muscles, testing for resistance, mass, and fat index. “Strong walls,” you note. “You built them sturdily and well. A little more strength never hurts, though. Let’s make them a little bigger, shall we?”
The workman rasped as his jaw snapped and cracked to gain greater definition, while the tanktop rode up higher and tighter under his armpits. His shoulders broadened as his biceps, triceps, and flexors swelled alongside his pectorals.
“Those walls need a firm foundation.”
A few seconds later, the workman grunted as a bulge began to press against the toes of his work boots. A brush of your hands over the footwear, and they expanded by two more sizes to fit the new broad feet they housed.
“Now for the plumbing. A proper house needs good strong pipes and a powerful pump for the well.”
The worker’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as he groaned. More veins spread over his musculature, creating a vascular spectacle.
“Such a deep, deep well. So full. So deep.”
The muscles in the workman’s neck thickened as heavy cords became more apparent. A thick lump jutted out midway down his neck, while a bulge pressed slowly against the crotch of his jeans and continued to expand with every breath.
You nod in satisfaction. “Now, more importantly, it’s clear we need to work on that faulty wiring. You’re too suspicious of me. That needs to change. After all, I’m your boss. I want my workmen to trust me. No more worry about changes. All you need know is that I’m the boss. You do what I tell you, because of that. From now on, you’re a proper member of my work crew, understand? No need to question the builder’s renovations. He knows what he’s doing, and I’m a builder, so i know what I’m doing. I’ll even install a dimmer switch for the lights upstairs, so you can think more clearly on the important tasks with my permission. Aside from that, though, you’re going to stay my big lumbering blockhead, got it?”
“Yes, Sir, Boss….”
“Good boy.” You snap your fingers and watch as he blinks. There’s a definite dullness about his eyes as he stares at you for a few moments. “Yeah, Blockhead?” you ask.
He reached up and scratched the back of his head. “Uh … you need me to carry more stuff today, Boss?”
You shake your head. “No, but Taft here bet me fifty dollars you won’t be willing to put on a gun show for us.”
He blinked slowly, then raised an arm and flexed it as he furrowed his brow. A subtle protrusion began to form in the bone structure over his eye sockets as he did. A few seconds later, he beamed at you. “Do I get to split it with you?”
You smirk. “Sure, big guy.”
He chuckled. “Then let’s do this.” And with that, he began to flex, straining his clothing to its absolute limits against his new physique. The whole time, he bassooned a deep husky chuckle. “Huhuhuhuh….”
It didn’t take long for the other workers to respond in kind. You sigh contentedly at the sound.
“I do love my blockheads,” you say. Then you chuckle. “And that’s why you never mess with the builder, Taft.”
Taft chuckled. “Don’t gotta tell me twice, boss.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to remodel you, too.”
