This story contains mature content, adult themes, nudity, clothes destruction and unnessicary explosions. If you object to any of this, or it is illegal for you to read such things under the law of the country you are in, then read no further. This story is based on a fictionalised version of Ben and any resemblance to any other person past or present is purely coincidental.
The Ben Bronx story continues! A simple tale of moving house to escape the humiliation of previous weeks, it sits tonely somewhere between 24 and Last of the Summer Wine. If you know, you'll know... ;-)
The Adventures of Ben Bronx: Packing a Load
Ben stared at the boxes that added to the general untidiness of the living room. It made him feel quite uneasy. Not for the first time he was wondering whether he had made the right decision. Whether he had been a little rash and overreacted somewhat.
He shook his head; what was he thinking? He had never acted rashly or overreacted. Well, if you discount the time he actually tutted out loud when someone tried to queue jump. No, moving house because you accidentally broke into your married neighbour's house and ended up becoming their sex slave for the weekend was an entirely reasonable reason to move house, he reassured himself. Even eminently reasonable.
He glanced at his watch—22:16. He was beginning to regret leaving the remaining packing until after his shift. He had been awfully busy working all hours godsent (plus a few more) to pay for this escape plan. He had reasoned that an earlier shift would give him plenty of time to finish before the movers arrived in the morning. He now further reasoned that he still had way too much stuff. He had already packed five boxes of clothes and nine of his trainers and he still had loads left.
The process had started out so orderly with the exact room labelled on each box, along with the position they were to be put. But then he had started taking shortcuts, labelling boxes as just 'upstairs' or 'downstairs'. This also reflected that boxes were being filled with contents of more than one room, albeit very neatly. Some boxes weren't even labelled at all! This level of anarchy would normally have panicked him to the point of disfunction but the panic of the 8am deadline tomorrow was worrying him more as the night progressed, and nothing made Ben happier than having something to worry about.
He wiped the sweat off his brow. It was certainly a sweltering early October evening. The whole week had been unseasonably hot and tonight the clouds had rolled in causing a mini temperature inversion.
He glanced at his watch; he'd just been sent a message from Dan. Was that entirely what he needed right now, he wondered.
Dan: How's it going?
Ben: Um, slowly.
Dan: You've got this! You're always packing a load 🤣🤣🤣
Ben: I am really hot though.
Dan: Oh! Really glad you think that about yourself finally! 🤗
Ben: Ooo. No, not like that. Never like that. It's just really warm and humid.
Dan: Put on some shorts
Ben: I've packed them.
Dan: Unpack some
Ben: I can't do that!
Dan: Take off your joggers then.
Ben: I can't do that!
Dan: 🙄 draw the curtains, no-one will see you
Ben: I'll see me.
Dan: 🙄🙄🙄 your opinion is that you shouldn't take off your pants?
Dan: And we have established your opinion is worthless?
Ben: Um, yes, I suppose.
Dan: Take off your pants then!
Ben: Haha. Maybe.
Dan: Haha! Good. Send me a photo 😉
Ben realised he didn't have the energy to argue against 'Dan logic' at the moment and, more importantly, deep down he actually did think it was an okay idea. Sometimes he just needed encouragement, although he wasn't always sure Dan's encouragement was exactly in his best interests.
He kicked off his Jordan 1s and slipped off his Nike Tech Fleece. He folded them neatly and placed them beside the pile of clothes on his bed that still needed to be packed. Glancing down, he was struck by how ridiculous he looked. He donned the Jordans and felt marginally better but had to admit he already felt a little cooler. He took a quick photo and sent it Dan, rolling his eyes a few moments later at the '😁😍😈' response.
Emojis were such a louche form of communication.
* * *
Ben glanced at his watch; 01:35. This was starting to resemble a series of '24'. Albeit a very slow-paced and uninteresting series of '24'. Still probably better than '24: Legacy' though.
Time was running out and Ben had sunk to the depths of just stuffing random things in boxes while hating himself for it. On the plus side he was down to the final box as far as he could tell. He taped it up and lay exhausted on the bed.
He sighed heavily. He couldn't stand the bedroom being filled with boxes so spent the next thirty minutes quite unnecessarily stacking all the boxes that were upstairs into the spare bedroom. Once he had closed the door on the lot he felt a whole lot better. He perched on the edge of his bed, mind racing on what he might have forgotten. Soon, though, he was lying flat on the bed. Just a small lie down. Just a micro-nap. Just a little boost . . .
* * *
"Ooo, Justin! Haha, yeh! Harder!" murmured a sleeping Ben.
*ding dong! ding dong!* repeated the bell in an impatient tone.
Ben sat bolt upright on his bed. A glance at his watch confirmed his worst fears; he had fallen asleep.
He could hardly criticise the removals people for being prompt, it was one of the reasons he had booked them. After an extensive research session, no less. He looked down at his bare legs and jumped up to find his pants. A cursory check and a further *ding dong* confirmed his worst fears.
He had packed them.
He called out a slightly stressed “Coming!” towards the front door while looking at the boxes piled up in the spare bedroom, partly stressed at the pants situation but more so at giving the removals people a tardy impression of his organisational skills.
He sighed with resignation and walked down the stairs to the front door. He half opened it so that his state of undress in his lower half was not visible to the outside.
"Hiya! I'm Issac. Overslept?" said the removal man in a far too cheery manner.
"Haha, umm. Yeh."
Ben always initiated his greeting of someone by looking at their feet. Ooo, Jordans! he exclaimed internally. His eyes went past the white socks to the black Nike sweats, to the company polo shirt and then finally to the lad’s face. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall—just a bit taller than Ben—and of an African background.
"Don't worry, we get that a lot,” the man said with an amused smile. “Bet you were up most of the night. It's all quite stressful, isn't it? Still, you have my word that we'll make this as stressless as possible here on in!"
Before Ben had a chance to say anything Isaac pushed the door open and walked in. Ben quickly shut the door behind him, involuntarily spread eagling across the door to ensure no one else could come in.
"So, I just . . . Oh!"
Isaac had turned around to see Ben in his full pant-less glory. Ben noticed that Isaac was looking at his groin, mouth hanging open. Then, to make matters worse, when Ben glanced down, he was mortified to find that he was fully erect and leaking! Curse you, Bieber! thought Ben.
A short awkward silence followed while Ben’s eyes flicked from at Isaac to his own damp (and tented) boxers. Finally, Isaac spoke.
"Well. That's quite the sight!" he purred.
Ben wanted the earth to swallow him up. Literally. He decided he would be entirely happy lying in a six-foot hole being backfilled. "Um,” he began nervously, “I accidentally packed my trousers. Haha."
"Well, that's a first for me!" Isaac replied heartily. He moved closer to Ben and dropped down on his haunches. "The other guys are getting breakfast,” he said looking up at Ben with a filthy leer. “So why don't I take my deposit now and we can sort out our 'problem' after?"
"Ooo. Umm . . ." Ben started as his boxers were unceremoniously yanked down.
"A protein shake for breakfast and after I've dealt with this beast!" the removal man exclaimed. He gave Ben’s cock a playful twang and added, "Never fear! I'm going to ensure you are fully packed. If you know what I mean . . ."
* * *
Ben wobbled slightly as he glanced at his watch in the darkness.
Isaac’s solution to Ben’s ‘problem’ of how to cover his state of undress turned out to be for Ben to be carried out of his old house hiding in the freestanding wardrobe. Ben couldn’t tell if the irony was intentional. He also wasn't entirely sure that Isaac's solution was entirely sensible, but he had gone along with it for an easy life. Now, as he was shaken again as when the van jounced over yet another pothole, he was questioning his 'decision' to go along with Isaac’s solution.
His cock swung around freely as the removal van took a right-hand turn. He was pretty sure he should have put up more of a protest when Isaac decided to keep his boxers as a souvenir. For now, though, he was happy that the wardrobe was at least fastened in place as the acceleration pushed his naked arse to the rear of it with some force. He was going to be sore there, and not just because are this bumpy ride . . .
After another ten minutes the van slowed to a halt. Ben heard people get out and voices.
"Okay, grab me a coffee and some crisps while I fill up," called out a voice.
"Okay," responded a voice that Ben recognized as Isaac’s. "I'm just going to check on the cargo before paying."
Ben heard the backdoor of the van open and felt the jolt as Isaac jumped in.
"You okay, Ben?" Isaac asked in a half whisper. "Just filling up on petrol and having a toilet break,” he explained. “Be on our way in five minutes. I'm just going to unhook the binding so you can get out and stretch your legs in here if you want. I'll fasten it up again before we leave, stud."
"Okay," answered Ben, ignoring the final comment. He just wanted this all to be over without any further incident—or compliments.
He waited until Isaac had left and poked his head out of the wardrobe. He contemplated stretching his legs but concluded he was far safer all round in the wardrobe. He pulled his head back like a suddenly spooked tortoise who had been enjoying munching on a piece of lettuce.
In the shop Isaac was paying for the coffees, crisps and sandwiches when he saw Jim, the driver, get back into the cab after filling up. He didn't think much of it until he heard the engine start.
"Oh shit! Erm, hang on, mate . . ." he said to the till assistant before racing out onto the forecourt waving his arms and yelling.
Jim had spotted a parking space that had opened up and was eager to get into it so he could enjoy his sandwich. He quickly pulled away from the pump and up the incline to the parking area.
Ben felt a jolt and was flung to the rear of the wardrobe. It tottered and, after giving the merest of hope it might stay upright, toppled over. Free of restraints, it slid to the rear of the van and struck the release mechanism hard, flinging the doors wide open.
Isaac could only watch open-mouthed as Ben's wardrobe, with Ben ensconced within, slid past him down the hill, shedding parts of its frame at an ever-increasing rate.
Ben, on his back, spreadeagled, limbs pressed against the alarmingly disintegrating frame of his wardrobe, felt another jolt as the box slammed into the bank of the entrance that curved up from the road. He sighed that his errant journey had been arrested and clung to the hope that Isaac would be here to sort this situation out.
At first, Isaac gasped with relief as the wardrobe, battered but still largely intact—and importantly not revealing its contents—hit the bank. But the feeling was short-lived as gravity took hold and spun the wardrobe around ninety degrees. With a loud crack! the floor gave way and the backboard—with Ben clinging desperately to the top—shot toward the entrance. It didn’t help that it had rained earlier, giving the pavement a greasy sheen of beaded oil.
To add insult to injury, part of the fractured frame snagged Ben's tee, rending it from his body.
Ben yelled as his impromptu toboggan hurtled towards the busy junction at an ever-increasing rate. The impending crash and looming prospect of grievous bodily harm were the only things stopping him from freaking out about being completely naked in public save his Jordans. Finding yourself unexpectedly on a collision course with a fast-moving truck tended to have that effect, fully clothed or naked.
He shut his eyes. At least this will be quick was his final thought—
His final thought, that is, until he miraculously shot through the small gap between the front and rear wheels. His relief lasted only a moment because hard on its heels came the returning realisation that people could still see his naked body.
The toboggan emerged on the other side of the truck, only narrowly missing a motorcyclist by dint of a spectacular evasive manoeuvre by said cyclist. Separated from his bike, the rider slid across the road as the bike flipped in the air and crashed through a vacant shop window, exploding in a ball of flames. Ben had just enough time to hope he was okay (and, more pressingly, that he hadn’t seen Ben’s humiliating condition).
Ben's own journey also abruptly ended when the wardrobe backboard forcefully struckthe curb a few seconds later. It bucked upright, catapulting him through the air and sending one of the only two articles of clothing he was still wearing—his Jordans—sailing across the street as his arms and legs (as well as his penis) waved around haphazardly in his unexpected flight. In his mind it was all happening in horrific slow motion.
In reality, his humiliatingflight ended almost as quickly as it had begun. He crashed face- (and cock-) first into a towering pile of oozing mud that had been excavated by workmen fixing a leaking sewerage pipe.
After a moment of contemplating the soft cold mud, he slid off the pile and into the hole where the pile used to live. He landed in the foul mixture of mud and raw sewerage with a sickening splat!
He looked up at the sky from the six-foot hole he was in. "Just fill it in please . . ." he thought as sirens, screaming and explosions filled the air around him.
* * *
In the CCTV monitoring suite at the Council offices, Jared stared at his screen in disbelief while the relish drooled unchecked from his ham and cheese roll. He briefly cursed as it landed on his white chinos, but it was just a momentary distraction. His eyes soon returned to the scene of destruction at the junction, and he tried to take it all in,barely able to comprehend what he had just witnessed.
"This is going to make me rich when I sell it to '999—Unbelievable Real Disasters!'” he exclaimed gleefully, quickly saving the scene to a memory stick. “This will go viral, for sure! Everyone will see it!”
The Adventures of Ben Bronx: Packing a Load by sneaked666
Edited by sz1415sneakers