Centexchild

#2 Don’t Trespass

Mr. Cook hadn’t even gotten his pool together. His fence was up. But there was still so much more work to be done on his house. Sadly, Manuel had too many other projects around town to do. Never even talked about that ‘streaming’ stuff anymore. Mr. Cook felt good he had helped clear the young man of that stress. But now Mr. Cook had a stressor. He’d seen it on the Neighborhood app: boys around town were stealing rocks from his backyard to place in other people’s lawn. Some real suburban entertainment foolishness right there.

These weren’t regular rocks, they were decorative pieces for his pool, but did the boys care? No. Which Mr. Cook was flabbergasted by. They were neighbors. Okay, maybe not direct neighbors, but it was all one neighborhood. One division of town that separated them from the rest. If they didn't have each other's backs, who would? Then the solution came to him. A way for the young men bored out of their minds to find meaning.

The next time someone tried to steal his rocks, Mr. Cook was in the kitchen making a sandwich. He heard the grunting first, then clothes tearing. He cleaned his hands, stepping outside. A smile was on his face. Not just one neighborhood hooligan, but two, attempting to steal his rocks. Unlike Manuel, their clothes came straight off. Their bodies bulked rapidly as if they had been starving for it . Mr. Cook shook his head as two men rolled on the ground stroking their dicks. Thankfully, his fence was up. When they were done covering each other in white glaze, he handed them tool belts, two new employees.

“Where would you like these to go Mr. Cook?” Rick would ask, while John held a wheelbarrow full of rocks that had to be moved.

Mr. Cook gave a silent approval to the toned bodies under his command. He appreciated their subconscious-fueled growth that made their natural outfits be their birthday suits. What was better than watching the male form in its most purest state at work? Very nice of his neighbors to take on his house as a project. At night, fully-clothed they made for pretty good watch dogs to deter future rocks from being stolen.

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# 3 Do Favors

When a neighbor asks for help, it's only right to help. Mr. Cook believed it deeply and boy, did he need help. His last two workers were killing it outside, but they were very unskilled at indoor labor (i.e. panting a house.) He couldn’t quite reach up without his back killing him. He had ordered a pizza and wouldn’t you know it, Francisco from down the street was the pizza boy. He was trying to make some money before college. Well, Mr. Cook had a better offer. He took the pizza and gave his neighbor a paint brush. The young man looked confused expecting a tip. Mr. Cook smiled, knowing Francisco was about to get something much better than a tip. Francsico’s body exploded with muscle on Mr. Cook’s porch. 

The older Francisco stepped inside. He lost his shirt but had on a nice pair of sweatpants. He walked up the steps already knowing where to go. Mr. Cook followed behind, ignoring the ass practically clapping in his face. Two pillows forced inside a thin layer.  Francisco got to work on the walls as his pants repeatedly fell down throughout the process, too small for his bubble butt.

Mr. Cooks rubbed his neck, “You know we’re inside, if it’s uncomfortable to keep those on. You should work with them off. Consider it a favor from me to you, just being neighborly by offering.”

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# 4 Improve the View

It's all the neighbors responsibility to ensure their neighborhood stays beautified. Mr. Cook certainly took his part seriously. When he caught Paul McGill littering, he put a stop to it right there. The young man barely knew what hit him as the tool belt cinched around his waist. Muscles piled in, happily filling in his form. He rose inches up into the air as body broke free of his constraints. His balls sagged lower as his ass pushed out. His face re-adjust, hairline slightly receding, jaw squaring, as a mustache grew over his lip zipping right past the peach fuzz phase.

Now Mr. Cook could lay in his backyard on a lawn chair and see the view of the newest Mr. McGill’s ass when working. The best view, as the man had four kids and anyone could tell his body put in the work making them.

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# 5 Just Because 

Mr. Cook always needed help around the house. Sometimes he didn’t even know what he needed help for. Honestly, he could admit it was his own damn fault for moving into a DIY suburban home. Huge property, so many projects. So, there were times the specific reason eluded even him. Then again, he liked being surrounded by barely clothed and nude men who reminded him of himself: hard workers.

The two new men he’d recently “hired” to work on his roof?

He couldn't even remember their names, maybe they had bumped into him, or said something weird. Regardless, the result was great, wasn’t it? Muscle tits out in the summer sun, buns being cooked by sunset. Mr. Cook was sure the two were making out whenever he wasn’t checking up on them. It was hard to be overly competent and attractive without getting another man turned on. Mr. Cook could relate. Even harder to spend days bending over, and squatting down, when neither men wore underwear.

Then when a baseball came through his window and landed surrounded by glass. Mr. Cook sighed after nearly having a heart attack. Lee Sung was at his door minutes later. Mr. Cook rolled his eyes, walking the boy in. The kid apologized but had no plans for how to fix the window. There were tons of men working on the house who could have fixed it easily, but to Mr. It was about the principle of the thing. Whoever breaks it should fix it. However, with the team he had at that point, that was flimsy reasoning even for him. His hand fell on Lee’s shoulder from behind as Mr. Cook reached into his pocket and placed a tape measure at the center of Lee’s chest. On impact a shock wave traveled through Lee as his body changed. A man had replaced the boy in seconds, his overall’s had ripped and not repaired itself, becoming the new style, while his shirt had been obliterated by his pecs and shoulders, making it obsolete. Mr. Cook looked over him, satisfied, before letting his newest employee get to work.

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When Mr. Cook, with Manuel’s help, published his Five Neighborly Tips on his fence, people laughed thinking it was a joke, especially #5. What was ‘Just Because’?  At the neighborhood watch meeting he’d shared it was very serious. There were steps he believed they could all take to be a bit more thoughtful of each other. It was only fair to provide people with his expectations. After all, most would come to find he’d be the only one winning in the end when he practically had an entire worker’s commune walking into his house, disappearing until the night. 

People started to whisper about what really went on at Mr. Cook’s house. Yet when they heard a saw, drill, or leaf blower for hours it was hard to argue otherwise. However, despite how many men he added on, none of the projects ever seemed to get fixed. There were always more men, always more work to do. Eventually people get bored of trying to guess. The litany of workers would never stop, and it was just a fact of life.