Previously only available to Patrons, all can now enjoy this story with slight edits as part of Flashback Fridays! Original here.
Caleb wasn’t entirely sure what had led him to pack a bag and hit the open road that day. He felt like he simply needed to go on a hitchhiking adventure, but yet he also felt like he had to go down a certain road instead of stand near a highway with more traffic. It was as if a part of him felt lost, yet a voice deep inside of his head was telling him exactly where to go.
And though the road had little traffic, a few cars had stopped and asked him if he needed a ride. “No, I’m just going for a walk,” he’d end up responding. “Thanks for stopping though!”
He wondered why he kept telling them that when he knew deep down he was meant to hitchhike, but none of them felt right. One was a trucker that seemed like he’d probably want a favor. Another, a mom with some noisy kids. None felt like someone he wanted to hop in with.
It was warm enough to take off his shirt, revealing an incredibly toned physique, but still early enough that he could comfortably enjoy being outdoors.
More vehicles stopped after this, but he continued to politely decline and insist he was on a walk. Yet any time he tried to think about why he was there or if he should go home, his mind started to become fuzzy.
The only thing that felt right was to keep walking, occasionally breaking to stand to the side when he saw a vehicle approaching. Why did he think he needed to go hitchhiking, but kept turning down rides?
Such questions muddled his mind some more, and he just kept walking until he saw a sleek black car approaching. This time was different than before, as the music coming from the rolled-down windows sounded strangely familiar. He immediately began to feel optimistic that this would be that one, as something about that music made him feel safe.
Why was his mind still muddled though? Why did that music call out to to him? He needed to know why it sounded so familiar. He needed to talk with the driver.
Westley was the type of hot entitled prick that didn’t know just how good he had it, having always come from a life of privilege. His attitude was more than apparent to Joziah when he had brought in his luxury sports car to the shop. Joziah had his way of dealing with such jerks that involved sabotaging their sound system so that only his special recordings would play when the vehicle drove. One couldn’t switch from satellite to local radio or simply turn the radio off – if the car was on, the special music was playing. The offending client would call in demanding the service be fixed for free – “it was fine until I brought it to you!” Joziah would agree, but claim to be backed up for at least a week and since a radio wasn’t a life-threatening emergency would apologize and offer additional services on the house to make up for the delay. They were never happy at first, but by the time they brought the vehicle in, they wanted to know how they could still choose to listen to the catchy beats if they so desired. They also would often end up giving into a newfound lust for the mechanic, providing him with a steady stream of blowjobs from snobs he loved seeing down on their knees – a position they would love to take for minorities going forward, regardless of what their orientation had been before. But every once in a while, when the person was a complete classist and usually also racist jerk, he liked to take the programming even further.
This was the case with Westley, who found himself craving not just Joziah’s cock but his whole lifestyle. All the perks he had from his live as an executive suddenly started to seem hollow compared to the value of getting to work with one’s hands. The idea of getting down and dirty was being programmed into his subconscious in more ways than one, and the suggestions were definitely taking hold. At the office, he found it harder and harder to concentrate on the business deals that increasingly bored him, wanting instead to get online and watch stock car races. Westley certainly had a tendency to speed before, but he never truly appreciated the rush one could get from the world of autos. He was beginning to crave the different smells of the environment – the sweaty musk of a man working hard, the grease and oil representing manly pastimes. His business suits felt more and more constricting – he envied having seen Joziah in his loose orange jumpsuit that looked so comfortable. By the time he brought his vehicle in to be fixed, he had started wearing the basics meant to be worn under such a jumpsuit. “You’re, uh, looking a bit skimpy in the pants department today, buddy,” Joziah joshed as the athletic former exec responded: “I quit my job today and thought maybe you’d let me try on a jumpsuit? I think I need to wear one.” Joziah smiled at the man’s admission, knowing his programming had worked. That smile led Westley to think with his dick as he went in for a kiss.
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