Male, office worker Ben Grimwood

Ben pulled his tired frame into the bathroom of his dingy one bedroom apartment, the soiled white tiles reflected the harsh naked florescent bulb above his sink so fiercely that he was mostly blinded unless the poor guy looked down. But it was a state the man had grown used to, he lived in a world of black and white suits and ties, a office worker but low enough on the chain that he got slammed with the most work. Despite having others in his department who would make his work even more stressful. He started to agree his soiled clothes as he reflected on his struggles at work. Such as the corporate princess, Alanah King, niece of one of the upper bosses. She may be of equal rank than you, but she still tries to pull privileges on you despite your seniority in the workplace. Which she tends to get away with since she's a curvaceous and men tend to give her what she wants to get in her pants. The nubile girl was only 5'3" after all, but made up for it in tightly toned slender curves. The girl probably weighed 120 pounds most of it in her lady parts, with a 34C-28-34 body the girl would never match you in a fight, as you easily towered over her by several inches but she was still feisty, teasing everyone about how wrong they were about things, and trying to show off to the bosses that she was the best worker.

Your fury grew towards her again, as you stood before the mirror, stripped off your work uniform and ready to shower. Your mind wandered as it often tends to when your alone that perhaps you can take some personal joy from your frustrations with Alanah, and as you climbed into the shower so that the hot water would cascade down your body, you grasped yourself and worked yourself to a fantasy of the office bitch, dressed in a slutty parody of her office skirt and blouse, this one a small micro skirt, and a blouse which left her bra exposed and showed her midriff. She came to you about a medical condition which caused her mouth to swell and lisp. which her doctor had prescribed a cure, that cure was semen. Which is a perfectly good **** fantasy for the guy, what guy wouldn't want head from his enemies. But a headache had returned, and his beating had become more furious as he imagined finishing off his nemesis, surely painting her face and having her blue eyes watering from clouds of his white sticky batter would do the trick, and he unfortunately splattered the shower wall and not his imaginings. But the apex of his headache struck again and he doubled over in pain for a few moment as his head felt like it was being ripped open, briefly a vision of Alanah with a mouthful of your seed in her mouth returned to you during the aftershock, until it all faded away together.

Shaking yourself off you went back to the mirror to examine yourself again, these headaches can't be normal can they? You pull at your features testing in every which way you can imagine to preform a self diagnostic at home in a dingy bathroom, and as you would expect you found nothing wrong with yourself. Still you had time today before lunch to go to a local clinic and have a professional check you out? Hopefully it won't take too long, your meeting your buddy Greg for lunch just so you can catch up with the old homie.