The Bouncer's Promotion

No idea the original theme of the photo that inspired this story, but you can check it out on Discord to take your own guesses...

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How the fuck did I get here? Right now, I’m sitting in a chair with a box on my head, and my heart beating fast enough to launch itself out of my chest.

Thomas, you ready?

Turning to my left and looking through the two small holes in the box at Jerry, I scowled before realizing that he wouldn’t be able to even see my facial expression. He seemed sympathetic, but I couldn’t commiserate right now.

Before I keep going, I guess I need to start back over at the beginning.

When I got to the club tonight, everything seemed normal. I parked in my usual spot, went inside to grab my one free drink of the night, and then I stood at my post near the front door. I was a bouncer at Rooster’s, and my job was to make sure the strip club had the right amount of the right people inside. As the night grew later, I’d get felt up and slid bribes that were far too low, and I enjoyed getting to silently point to the parking lot and watch them leave.

Tonight though, there wouldn’t be any satisfaction as Bert walked outside with a weird look on his face. Bert had been here for probably decades, and he was the owner’s right-hand man. He’d clean up, do the accounting, and whatever else needed to be done. Tonight, he apparently was filling in for me since Jerry wanted me backstage.

Heading back there, Jerry got right to the point.

“We’re short three guys tonight, and I need you to fill in…”

“Sure, boss.”

“…on stage tonight.”

Oh fuck.

“Wait, you want me to strip tonight? Seriously?”

“It’s either you or Bert, and while I love him, that belly isn’t gonna get any tips. You work out- you’ll be fine.”

I wanted to fight back, but there was the logical voice in the back of my brain that knew I’d already lost. I worked at a gay strip club that didn’t need to follow every rule- Bert could fire me tonight, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Bert had been here long enough to be safe, but I was new. Too new to fight back. So, with the promise (that probably meant nothing) that this wouldn’t be happening again, I agreed under one condition. I knew that there had to be some sort of mask back here in the dressing room, but when that turned up nothing, I agreed on Jerry’s solution.

That’s what led me here, sitting in the empty dressing room with a fucking box on my head to protect my identity. We’d tried some scarfs or a hat pulled low, but they all fell off. This idea was dumb as hell, but it was probably my best option.

Leading the way to the stage, one upside was that there weren’t many people to see me since they had all called out sick. A couple of drag queens and one stripper raised their eyebrows as I went past, but they knew enough not to say anything. In fact, not a word was said until Jerry deposited me right behind the curtain.

“I’ll let you keep the tips if you stay out there for four minutes after taking all of your clothes off- see you afterwards.”

And then, I was alone with nothing but bass-heavy music blaring around inside this box. The curtain parted on each side, and as I walked out, there was a confused pause before the screams erupted again. The crowd wasn’t sure if this was some gimmick, and if I wanted these tips, then I had to somehow prove to them that it wasn’t. So, I started dancing.

The crowd was a blur through the little vantage point I had, so my inhibitions slowly melted away as my hands reached up to the buttons of my borrowed shirt. My usual black shirt/black pants uniform was hanging up in the dressing room- this shirt was held together by snaps going down the middle with a fake button on top of each one.

Pulling them open, I revealed my hairy chest to these men that had all walked past me earlier tonight, and it felt odd to say the least to be exposing myself like this. I worked out daily, but I wasn’t the guy to post himself half-naked on Twitter every day. This was the most exposed I’d really been in quite a while, and as I threw the shirt behind me, I realized that I’d be going even further as my hands dipped behind the waistband of these fake jeans.

There were snaps going down each side of my leg, and one at the top popped open early as I began gyrating around near the edge of the stage. Even though I couldn’t see them, I could feel men stuffing dollar bills instead my waistband, and some hands worked their way deeper than others. Standing up before I was trapped down there, I knew I had to bite the bullet. Taking in a deep breath, I grabbed a fistful of fabric in each hand and yanked the jeans clear off the front of my body leaving me in just my white boxer briefs.

The crowd was at a fever pitch now, and I finally realized why strippers did what they did. We weren’t known for having high tippers at the club, so they weren’t making Magic Mike money or anything… but the cheers were worth taking your dignity and throwing it away with your pants.

Now, I just needed to keep dancing until the music stopped, and I mistakenly started to feel a bit of relief. That all disappeared as one voice rang out above the rest.

“Oh my god, it’s the bouncer!”

Everything seemed to freeze as the crowd quieted for just a second before erupting again. I’d just knelt down to get more tips, and I felt an unknown number of hands grab my arm to yank it down. Fuck- they’d recognized my tattoo. The sleeves of my black t-shirts ended right before my tattoo, and I’d gotten compliments on it enough before for me to know how many guys recognized it. Hands were grabbing me all over my body now, and some were more adventurous than others. A few guys had tight grips on my thighs to make sure I didn’t go anywhere, but others were exploring just for pleasure. My pecs and nipples were squeezed until a moan of pleasure slipped from between my lips, and the waistband of my underwear was stretched until the elastic just gave up.

I’d originally argued with Jerry about wearing a g-string, and I told him no. Now, I was regretting it. That tighter article of clothing might have kept the hands away from my growing dick, but now, everyone had a chance to stroke me off for a few seconds.

Time seemed to be moving at a glacial pace as I felt every sensation magnified by at least a hundred times. The only redeeming factor was that the stage was tall enough for no one to be able to remove the box. That was the only way that I hadn’t crumbled into a pile on the stage floor- everyone knew it was me, but at least my blushing face was still hidden. They wouldn’t see how mortified I was, and they also couldn’t see how much this was turning me on. I tried to fight it, but I had to relent to the pleasure reaching a fever pitch inside of me.

I was about to blow my load right there until I was saved by the bell. The song ended, and Jerry came over the mic which seemed to affect everyone in front of me. Almost all at once, their hands left my body, and I quickly got up before they changed their minds. Not knowing what to even do, I just raised one hand to the box in a salute before ducking behind the curtain.

Tearing the box off, I found the first chair I could before sinking down into it. One of the queens I’d seen earlier walked up to me and threw my tips into the box, but even the substantial pile of dough wouldn’t make this all better right now. In fact, it was still about to get worse once I got back to the dressing room.

Jerry was standing there with my clothes in one hand, and I realized that I was supposed to get dressed again and head back outside to my post.

The cool night air was a relief, but once the club shut down, every patron walked past me knowing that they now knew every detail of my body…