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The Hotel Room Part 1
Taylor walked down the hall looking for his room number. He had been driving forever to get to Orlando for the conference this week. A meeting had gone long and he ended up missing his flight. Nothing else would have gotten him here on time so he ended up leaving last night and driving here. This conference was an opportunity he didn't want to miss. He was the only employee of his corporation attending the conference so this gave him some great opportunities to network with his colleagues and develop some good connections. Being the youngest guy in the office this would give him an edge he could use. So he was finally here and the events began with the keynote speaker at 5:00pm, that gave him a few hours to get some rest.|
He continued down the hall and saw a maid opening the door which happened to be his room. She glanced up from her work as she heard him approach.
"Oh, I'm sorry Sir, I haven't had a chance to clean up this room yet. If you like I can make arrangements for another room for you."
"No, I really don't have the time. I just need to get some rest. I'm sure the room will be fine, you can clean it up tomorrow."
Ignoring her plea, Taylor slipped past her linen cart into the room and shoved the door closed as he passed. The curtains were closed but there was enough light filtering in for him throw his bags off to the side, strip down, and crawl into the king sized bed beneath the rumpled sheets. After setting the alarm on his watch Taylor turned to set it on the nightstand. As he did so his foot brushed against something down towards the end of the bed. Hooking his foot around it Taylor pulled what felt like something fabric up where he could grab it.
From beneath the sheets he pulled up a crumpled pair of boxer shorts. Staring at them Taylor thought back to how as a kid he would steal other people's underwear in the locker room at the YMCA. Something about wearing another guys underwear was just so intense for him. Maybe it was the cooping of something so intimate. Something so private, worn so closely, and then they were his to be worn so closely.
Flicking on the light he looked them over. Pretty basic gear, white cotton boxers. There wasn't a tag on them to identify where they might have been purchased though. A bit worn on the backside so they must have been a bit old. There was even a few stains on the front slit where the guy could have been a bit better shaking after urinating. As Taylor looked at them closely he drew them to his face to take in the scent of the man these belonged to. A warm flush stirred his penis as he breathed in the heavy musk of manscent off of the boxers. Taylor slipped them on and turned off the light, rolling over to get a few hours rest before the dinner tonight. As he drifted off the last thing he remembered was the boxers spreading a contented warmth across his midriff.
Taylor slipped into his seat at the dinner table just before the lights dimmed. He had just finished at the registration table, the little old ladies running the show there a bit put out at being delayed from leaving. He didn't care though. Looking around the room he could see a few of the top players in the industry arrayed at the different tables. No one important was among the older men he shared the table with but that didn't matter, he'd have ample opportunity to network during the week.
With introductions and announcements over, the meal was started. Taylor shifted in his seat a little, the boxers were itching. When he had woken up he looked himself over in the mirror. The boxers were a size or two too big for him but he decided to keep them on for the rest of the evening. Now he just hoped the itching wasn't coming from some lurking venereal disease.
Seeing the hotel room with the lights on after waking up he was almost sorry he hadn't let the maid make arrangements for a different room. The bed was a rumpled mass of sheets, the comforter thrown on the floor. The ashtrays in the main room and the bathroom had cigar butts in them. Fast food wrappers and empty beer bottles filled the garbage can by the table.
The refrigerator even had a six pack of bottled beers left in it. All of it contributed to the stale musky scent of the room he must have been too tired to notice before. He really would have preferred a non-smoking room.
While he was dressing Taylor noticed the front of the boxers had a wet spot. Had he dribbled after u sing the bathroom? He couldn't remember what had transpired. Had he tried to recreate the actions of the original wearer of these boxers? He didn't have time to dwell on it though since he was going to be late for dinner if he dawdled.
A waiter's inquiry drew him out of his reverie and he found himself asking for seconds before he even realized it. Wiping up the gravy left on his plate with a roll he was surprised to realize he really was still hungry after finishing the first serving. Why was he so hungry? The first serving shoulda been more then enough food for him. The waiter set down another plate before him and Taylor started in to it. Blankly watching the activity of the room he suddenly realized he had been chewing with his mouth open. Pausing for a moment he finished chewing normally, then settled back into finishing his meal.
Taylor flicked on the light switch and stepped into the hotel room. He had given up on the social after the dinner. All of the good old boys were a little too tightly knit tonight. It will be better in the long run to hit them after the smaller focus group when you've had time to interact with them already. Besides the beer at the bar bit it tonight. Maybe things were just off in general. Normally he'd go for a Gin and Tonic, if he went for anything at all.
Pulling off his dress clothes, he stripped down to just the boxers. Glancing in the mirror he saw the waistband of the boxers were being pushed down by his distended belly. Damn he had eaten a lot hadn't he? Three full meals and then snacking at the bar. Not to mention the Gin and Tonic and two beers he'd had. While he wasn't in gym shape he was surprised at the small belly he saw on himself in the mirror. Even at 27 Taylor still had a trim blonde boy next door looks, but now he was looking like some ex-jock. A tired ex-jock he thought as he moved closer to the mirror and looked at his face. His eyelids were drooping some and his face looked a bit haggard.
Well let's just get settled and turn in he thought as he grabbed his suitcase and garment bag off of the couch and turned to the closet. Sliding the doors open he found a pair of engineer's boots and an empty garment bag. He'd have to let the staff know that some items got left behind. As he pushed the garment bag aside something slipped out of the bottom, looked like a T-shirt. Bending over to get it he was thrown off balance by his full gut and smacked his head on the back wall.
"God Damn It!" he shouted as he lumbered back. "Fuck it." He pulled on the shirt and trudged over to the refrigerator and grabbed one of the beers. Twisting off the cap he downed a few gulps and then held the cold bottle against his forehead as he slumped into a chair. The sharp pain had fallen off so he moved the bottle away and took a few more swigs of the beer.
"Now that's more like it," he thought to himself as he looked over the label on the beer bottle. A pleasant warmth spreading from his gut, a good sensation as he worked his cock with a hand down in the boxers. He finished off the beer kicking it back and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he went to toss out the bottle. Slouched in the chair his gut was pushed up, straining against the ribbed white fabric of the tank top undershirt he was wearing. He definitely looked like the a beer bellied ex-jock now. What was with the hand down in the crotch? Pulling it out he rubbed a hand across his stomach, the warm sensation kicking in again and spreading across his torso and down his legs. Felt good.
"Looks good," he thought as he rose from the chair. He could feel how even the slight change in weight had caused a shift in his center of gravity. Probably why he fell over and slammed his head in the closet. Didn't look half bad though. The gut and the tank top undershirt complimented his physique. Helped him look more masculine, more like a guy instead of a queer. Walking over to the mirror at the small sink he wet down his hair and slicked it back. His blonde hair was too full though, didn't really carry the look right.
Turning back to the room Taylor picked up one of the longer cigar butts from the edge of the ashtray and bit down on it at the corner of his mouth. Definitely felt right, looked right too. With more of a definite lumber to his step he walked back over to the fridge and pulled out another beer. Popping it open he sat down in the chair again and drank it down. A sensation spread through his body from his stomach and he wasn't sure if it was the beer or something else. It didn't matter though, felt good and he was enjoying himself.
Taylor woke up hearing a door slamming down the hall. Glancing groggily about he saw the cardboard case for the six pack at his feet and the bottles arrayed around himself. Standing he stretched out the kinks and looked over at the clock. "Shit, I'm running late."
Dressing hurriedly he pulled on some casual clothes over the boxers and undershirt. He pulled on his loafers and could barely fit his foot into them. No way he was going to spend the whole afternoon in tight shoes. Grabbing the boots from the closet he slipped them on and headed out the door.
Later at one of the breakout sessions Taylor could hardly keep his mind on the speaker. The tingling/itching had returned and spread over his entire body. To make things worse it felt as though none of his clothes were fitting right. Finally he couldn't take it any longer. Grabbing his briefcase he headed out the door, maybe some fresh air would help.
Passing through the lobby he stopped at the small shop and bought a pack of Marlboro's. He wasn't a smoker, didn't care for it after trying it out in college, but damn if that didn't feel like just what he wanted right now. Out in front of the hotel he lit up a cigarette and began to walk around the grounds for a while.
As he lit up another cigarette he noted that the boots were working out pretty well for him. Seeing them in the closet he never would have thought they'd fit him, too wide. But now the well worn leather was feeling almost as though he'd broken them in years ago. Down by the street he saw a street vendor selling hot dogs and decided to go buy a few.
After finishing three hot dogs and smoking four cigarettes he headed back to his room. Dinner was going to be served in about an hour and while he didn't care about the conversation anymore he sure cared about the food. He had pulled off his shirt and was about to undo his pants when there was a knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone since the do not disturb sign was up on the door. He hadn't remembered putting it up but at least it kept the maid from coming in this morning and cleaning things up on him.
"Yeah," he growled as he opened up the door. He gave a deep cough to clear his throat and stared expectantly at the young man before him.
"Sorry to bother you Mr. Bozzelli but they said at the office that you needed these and we were already late." The young guy held up some clothes on a hanger wrapped in a dry cleaners plastic.
"Sorry, boy, you've got the wrong man."
"But, Sir, this is room 218."
Taylor looked the guy over and then drew back to attention. Giving the kid a flat stare he said, "Look, I'll take them and turn them in at the desk. I have some other things that belong to this Bozzelli that got left in this room."
The kid looked relieved as he turned the clothes over to Taylor. "Thanks man."
As the kid headed off the maid came from around the corner. Seeing Taylor she stepped over, "Oh Sir, would you like me to straighten up your room now?"
"Nah, don't worry about it." He began to turn back into the room when he thought for a second and turned back. "Hey, you know anything about this Bozzelli guy?"
"He's a nice enough man. Always stays in this room when he's in town. I think he's some kind of sales rep, does something with those 18-wheelers or something. Why?"
"Nothin', just curious. What was he like?"
"I'd say late 40's. He is about your height but stockier. He's a bear of a man, broad. Really short dark hair, mustache. A nice enough man like a said, if kind of garrulous. Don't know, never really saw him much since he never let me clean his room while he was staying here. That's why I'm surprised you haven't wanted the room attended to, it's surely a mess."
"Nah, not a problem. Thanks," and with that he closed the door.
Finishing dressing he headed off for dinner. Remembering to grab the pack of cigarettes off the counter as he snagged his room key. Tucking them both into a pocket he flicked off the lights and head down off downstairs.
The dinner had been a bunch a crap. Some stir-fry shit that did nothing for him. Lighting up a cigarette as he stepped out of the hotel entrance he headed down the road to look for some decent food. Passing a news shop about a block from the hotel he decided to stop in. Looking around the place he strolled the aisles glancing at covers and headlines and found himself at the back counter. Along the back wall was a humidor.
"May I help you Sir?" An older gentleman behind the counter queried as he stepped up.
"Yeah I was looking for..."
Raising a finger, the older gentleman stopped Taylor in mid-sentence, "I know just what you're looking for." He stepped away and came back holding two cigars in his hand.
Taking them, Taylor, was a bit confused.
"They are what you wanted Sir, aren't they?"
"Uh yeah, but I wasn't even sure?"
"Boz?" someone exclaimed nearby enough to make Taylor turn and look.
A young man at a nearby newsstand was turning to face him. In his early 20's the kid was a jock in jeans and a sweatshirt. Clean-shaven and healthy looking he caught Taylor's eye, but he really wasn't his type. The kid had a surprised look on his face that settled down to embarrassment and disappointment. "I'm sorry, your voice, you sounded just like a friend of mine."
"Not a problem," Taylor growled out. Hearing his voice come out deep and raspy again he cleared his throat and nodded to the kid as he paid the guy at the counter. Turning to leave, he noticed the young guy was already gone.
Taylor pushed open the door to the hotel room and juggled his items to hit the light switch. He'd found a good mom and pop dinner down the road and ate a good fried chicken dinner while he was there. He left with four burgers and fries and picked up another six pack of beer from a convenience store on his way back.
Stripping down to just socks, boxers, and the undershirt he settled down to the burgers and a few beers. He couldn't understand why he was so hungry, but he didn't mind because the food was tasting damn good lately. With the last swig of his fourth beer he settled back and pulled one of the cigars out of the breast pocket of his jacket on the back of the chair.
He blew out a thick cloud of smoke and lounged back into the chair. The spicy cocoa flavor of the cigar was rich and relaxing. This was exactly what he had been looking for. A few long draws on the cigar found the warm tingling feeling spreading across his body again. Relaxing like this just felt right. Why hadn't he done something like this before? Just being able to enjoy some good food, good beer, and a good smoke. This was a life he could get used to, leaving all the cares of his hectic day to day behind. This Bozzelli had the life, Taylor wouldn't mind spending the days enjoying these simple pleasures. Wouldn't mind one bit.
Finishing off the cigar he set the butt in the ashtray and rose from the chair. He was feeling really relaxed and figured he might as well just turn in. In the bathroom he shifted the boxers a little after taking a piss and looked himself over in the mirror. "Damn," he breathed out as he looked himself up and down. He hadn't realized he looked so bad, he must be sick. His features had taken on a puffy look and were almost sagging. The only other time he looked this bad was when he'd had a real bad flu and his face got really puffy. His eyes were heavy lidded, drooping in the corner and giving an angled fold over the eyes. His hair looked dark and flat, you would hardly realize he was blonde. Beneath the thick dark stubble which covered his jaw he could see jowls along his jaw line. His skin looked ruddy too, even down into his undershirt he noticed as he pulled it off.
Taylor was sure he wasn't feeling well as he looked over his chest. The skin was ruddy and thicker in places too, no rougher. His fine chest hair looked darker too like the hair on his head, darker and fuller in some patches too. What concerned him though was that his chest and arms didn't look nearly the same at all. His torso appeared broader and everything had a bloated, almost flabby appearance to him. His gut was not nearly as pronounced as it had been the other day, even though he'd eaten as much if not more food since then. He still had a gut, he wasn't flat by any means, but he looked almost barrel chested now. His breasts were somewhat fuller and not nearly as muscular, they even hung down a little. The same was the case with his arms. The upper arm shook a little as he shrugged his broader shoulders up and down. As he moved a hand to rub it down his chest again though he could feel a strength in his arms so looks were deceiving.
To be honest though, now that he thought about it, he felt even stronger then he did before. As he stepped back and took stock of himself he honestly felt strong overall, not strong really but solid. He liked the feeling, liked it a lot. In fact he didn't feel sick at all. He had to be though. This bloated appearance and ruddy tone must be the signal of something. Being sick would explain his voice too, his throat must be sore. Glancing in the mirror again though he rubbed a hand over his gut and the warm sensations waved across his chest again. Maybe he was just having a rough time from the overnight drive here, a good night's rest would probably take care of things. With that he flicked off the lights and turned in for the night.
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