Groomsman - The Nightmare Continues . . . - Part 2 (Repost)

Okay, going to attempt to repost this one now I've made some amends! Hopefully you all get to see and enjoy this one!

Despite his panic, the wedding ceremony went without a hitch, and Dean was feeling incredibly relieved that the first big milestone of the day was over. He still couldn’t believe that Max had swapped their outfits, and worse, that he was at another wedding wearing a kilt that felt like it might burst off at any second.

The wedding was being held at a country manor house, and once the ceremony was done, the wedding party were escorted outside where the first of many, many photos would be taken.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the bride and groom, Dean grabbed Max by the elbow and steered him a little way away from the rest of the groomsmen.

“What’s up, Deano? You’re going to spoil picture time,” Max said with a grin.

“Max, please! Can we just go to the bathroom and swap our clothes over? This isn’t fair. You can’t wear my suit and kilt just because yours is too small for you.”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mine fits great. Yours look a little snug though.”

Dean huffed in frustration. “Are you seriously going to pretend like you haven’t screwed me over?”

Max rolled his eyes and released himself from Dean’s hold on his arm. “If you want to have this conversation, let’s go somewhere a little more private.”

Several of the guests in their vicinity were watching the two of them with interest, and Dean allowed Max to steer him around a path and behind some hedges.

“You’ve got two minutes before we need to get back for photos, so let’s get this sorted now. I’m not swapping clothes. You’re wearing yours and I’m wearing mine. End of.”

After many years of friendship, Dean was utterly perplexed by Max’s bizarre behaviour. Sure, they hadn’t seen each other much since Max’s wedding, partly because Dean had been mortified after what had happened, and partly because Max hadn’t really been that involved; he barely messaged in their group chat at all.

“So, you’re going to force me to spend the rest of the wedding barely being able to breathe?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, Deano. As I recall, you more than enjoyed yourself wearing a tight kilt at my wedding.”

Dean blushed furiously, the memory of his kilt catching in the fire door as he tried to escape, the sound of it ripping as he tugged away from it, the laughter of the guys as he ran past them with a raging hard on . . .

“That was a series of accidents that was utterly humiliating. I didn’t enjoy it,” Dean said, his voice a little unsteady.

Max raised his eyebrows. “Oh really? I beg to differ.”

Before Dean could ask why, Max closed the distance between them and grabbed Dean’s cock through his kilt. Dean gasped at the shock of Max groping him, although he couldn’t deny that the touch was entirely unwelcome, but there was also the shock that the memory had him hard inside the tight confines of the skimpy briefs he had on under his kilt, which Max apparently knew.

“Just as I suspected,” Max said with a laugh. “And before you kick off and say how mean I’m being, I know that you’re the one that stole my favourite pair of briefs from the hotel room during the wedding, not to mention the fact that you’ve barely talked to me since the wedding.”

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Max. I didn’t know they were your favourites, but I needed some underwear, and I used what I could find.”

“Have you still got them?” Max asked as he folded his arms.

“Umm, they didn’t survive the night.”

Max laughed and it sounded hollow. “Of course they didn’t. That massive arse of yours would never have fit into them. I bet they tore it to shreds.”

Hearing Max talk about the size of his bubble butt sent a weird feeling through Dean that he couldn’t quite place, but he chose to ignore it.

“As for not speaking to you much, I couldn’t face you. I was mortified after what happened when I left the wedding. I’ve barely spoken to any of you, but you haven’t been active in the WhatsApp group either. You don’t message at all.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a lot going on,” Max said quietly.

Dean frowned. “Like what? Married life can’t be that much different.”

“You wouldn’t have the first idea how different it’s been.”

Max’s tone sounded deeply bitter, and for the first time, Dean wondered what Max had been up to for the last year. He’d assumed Max had put weight on because he’d been happy and comfortable, but was he wrong? Had something happened?

“Maybe you could tell me about it?”

Max scoffed. “Yeah, cause you’d be so understanding. You lost your shit just because I switched our suits over.”

“It was a dick move, Max, especially after what happened at your wedding.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Max yelled. “I didn’t get to fucking see it.”

Before Dean could even open his mouth to reply, Max stormed off and Dean had no choice other than to follow closely behind him, praying they wouldn’t get in too much trouble for holding up the group photos.

As the photographer ordered them around into various groupings, Dean couldn’t stop himself looking over at Max. Why had he been so angry that he hadn’t seen what happened to him? Dean couldn’t wrap his head around it. There was definitely something going on with Max, but he didn’t seem interested in talking about.

I’ll try and grab him after the photos, Dean thought to himself, adjusting the kilt on his waist for the hundredth time as he praying that it would hold.

“Right, everyone together please, tallest at the back,” the photographer yelled. “Let’s get this last one done and you can all go and drink.”

There was a roar of cheers as the entire wedding party jostled into the same space trying to be in view of the camera.

Dean sidled into the back, hoping that he’d be as hidden as possible. He wanted as few photos of himself as possible in a shirt that gaped whenever he breathed out.

As Dean waited for the photographer to finish positioning people at the front, he shifted on the spot, discomfort sweeping over him. The skimpy briefs had ridden up and it felt like he was wearing a thong. He was desperate to unpick the wedgie but didn’t want to draw any attention to himself.

I am at the back, and no one is looking my way, he thought.

Slowly, Dean moved a hand around to the back of his kilt where he tried to tug the undies free from between his cheeks, but the wool of the kilt was too thick for him to grip the slinky material.

Fuck it, he thought, sliding his hand under the back of the kilt and brushing up the back of his toned thigh to his meaty cheeks. Dean grabbed the briefs and tugged them down, but in his desperation to escape the wedgie, he tugged a little hard, and there was an audible rip!

“Oh fuck,” he whispered.

He immediately released the briefs and let his kilt fall back into place just as the photographer snapped the last group photo.

“Time for food,” he heard Max yell, clapping the groom on the shoulder.

Dean followed everyone into the manor house where an enormous dining room had been decorated with bright purple, pink and white flowers, candles were scattered throughout the room, and the tables were decked in pale cream tablecloths and centred with more flowers.

“This is beautiful,’ Dean heard one of the bridesmaids say as she immediately started snapping photos on her phone.

Dean checked the table plan and headed to a table where he was sat with a few of the groom’s college buddies and . . . Max.

“Oh great,” Max muttered loud enough for Dean to hear.

“I’ve already apologised, Max. Please don’t be a bigger dick by ruining the rest of the wedding.”

Max smiled. “Oh, I won’t be ruining it. I’ll be making it a night to remember.”

Dean could only wonder what Max meant as he sat down, but as he did, a button from his shirt burst off and bounced across the table landing next to Max.

“Lost something?” Max asked with a grin.

Dean looked down and cursed himself as he saw a gap in his shirt where the button should have been, his furry stomach on show through the window where his remaining shirt buttons were barely holding on.

Sitting up straight, Dean tugged his shirt as loose as he could with the limited material available and tried to keep his stomach sucked in so that the missing button wasn’t noticeable.

Max stood up suddenly, switched his name plague with the person next to Dean and sat down in his new seat.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked with a frown. “You’re supposed to be sat over there.”

Max grinned. “And now I’m sat here. Deal with it.”

As the other guests took their seats at their table, Dean kept glancing at Max, even more confused by his behaviour, and wondering what the hell was going on.