You are spotted right away.

You make a quick beeline to your trailer, keeping your head down and trying to avoid drawing any attention to yourself. You don't even get a foot from your truck before the catcalls begin.

"Hey, pretty lady, why you hiding that smile from me?" Jack, the foreman, calls out. He's built like a brick shithouse, with the personality to match. He's stupid, sullen, short tempered, and the most trustworthy employee you have, if only because he is too dumb to be deceptive. You can't stand the man, but you don't hire a pack mule for his personality.

"Walk that fine ass on over here! You can't hide a body like that in some ratty old clothes!" John, a bronze bully bulging with muscle calls out. You've hated the prick since you overheard him calling your son a sissy faggot behind your back. They had to peel you off each other before you made him pick up his teeth with broken fingers, but you doubt you could take him in a fight now.

"Heeeeey. Isn't that the boss' hat? And clothes? And truck?" Joe is your youngest hire. A bit on the small side for this kind of work, but he made up for it and then some with his fiery temper and willingness to take on the job of men twice his size. Unfortunately for you, he's also a bit on the brighter side than his coworkers. You always suspected he was a little too smart for his own good, but it looks like he's too smart for YOUR own good. He comes closer and Jake and John follow close behind him. By the time he gasps, "Mr. Jenkins?! What happened to you?!", you are surrounded by sneering studs.

You feel every ounce of swagger drain from your body, leaving only stark terror, a sweltering blush of humiliation, and a palpable pull of lust. You try to regain control of the situation. You puff out your chest and try to make your voice as deep as possible as you yip, "It's none of your Goddam business what happened to me! I still run this company and I'm telling you to get back to work and mind your Ps and Qs!"

You've spent years building your company from nothing. Years proving yourself tougher and more persistent than an army of louts and losers all trying to knock you down and spit on you. Years building something, a legacy that will live on after you. Years of pain, sacrifice, and loneliness, but you had finally solidified your standing with your crew. Then everything comes tumbling down as John reaches inside your overalls and squeezes your breast. You moan desperately and any hope you had of pulling rank is long gone.

"That's right, you like that, don't you, sissy? I guess the fruit didn't fall far from the tree, did it?" John continues kneading your breast. You want to push him away, tell him to fuck off, or knock his teeth out, but it feels to good and your body is too needy after your all night fuckfest with your sissy daughter. He yanks the suspenders of your overalls to the side and RIPs your tee letting your breasts bounce free. A crowd is beginning to form, but Jack heads them off and they stay a few feet away. Only he could keep a crew full of horny bruisers 'content' to look when they're dying to touch. Well, not content perhaps, but they like it better than facing off against the giant.

"Wait...WHIMPER please MOAN...don't..." you struggle feebly as John continues to **** your massive breasts, suckling your sensitive nipples as Joe comes from behind you. You can tell from the bulge grinding against your ass that he isn't a runt where it counts, and he doesn't seem to have any lingering doubts about sticking it to his boss. You aren't helping your case by pushing back against his cock and sliding your ass up and down around his erection.

"Please... MOAN don't... WHIMPER stop..." You keep trying to tell them to stop, but your body keeps begging otherwise. You despise the bigoted bully sucking your nipples and rolling his tongue around them, but your body feels like he is sucking off two swollen shafts attached to your tits and you feel a full bodied dry orgasm that leaves you weak kneed and holding on to John's head to bury him deeper into your breasts. Your crew continues to ignore your words and listen to your body.

Jack yanks your overalls down and lifts you free from them so you are completely exposed and **** to the three hung, horny hulks. He places you almost gently on your knees on the dusty ground. They waste no time in pulling out their pricks and you are surrounded by the three hard cocks that make your mouth water even as you continue to pathetically plead, "Please, don't make me SLURP suck your SHHLP cocks!"

Your sissy sobs finally have some impact as none of your crew make you suck their cocks, but they don't really have to **** you at this point. You can't keep your lips off the jerks' juicy pricks. You feel like you might melt under the sizzling shame of making out with Jack's cockhead while stroking off John and Joe. You hear them laughing at you, from man's man to sissy sucker in one weekend, but their taunts and jibes can't keep you from inhaling their huge horse cocks.

"Damn, boss! You're sucking the cum right outta me! NNGGH!" You look up into Jack's eyes and see the disappointment and disgust in them even as he floods your throat with his hot load. You wish you could crawl in the wet cement and take a long nap, but his stud shaft is pounding the spurt button in the back of your throat and his creamy cum is drowning out the part of your brain that feels shame. You spasm and squirt and sissygasm around his cock milking him dry until he has to drag you off his dick.

"Holy fuck! You wasn't kidding! This sissy's sucking like my dick's an oxygen mask in a plane crash!" 'Little' Joe always was too smart for this line of work. Only he could bust out a simile while getting sucked off. He's not far off either. You are going down in flames, scorching hot and sucking for dear life. Your sissy shaft is swollen and spewing sissy spunk nonstop, much to the amusement and arousal of the cheering crowd. You can't stop sissygasming, can't stop using this runt's cock to fuck your slutty throat, and can't help but lick your lips when his stud seed finally fills your throat, and mouth, and face. You are dick dazed and delirious, half expecting the small pretty boy to turn into a sissy after exploding inside you, but he just wipes his still hard cock on your face and hair. You can't imagine anything more humiliating than subbing to the smallest stud on site.

"That's a good fag! Suck my cock! I always knew you were a closetcase cocksucker like your sissy son! Keep proving me right! Keep showing everyone who's a real man and who's a bottom bimboi bitch!" How could you have forgotten Johnny the Jerkoff? The man you hated more than anyone you could name, but never fired because he proved himself an invaluable worker again and again. And now he's proving how right he was as he puts his hands behind his back and lets you jackhammer your hungry hole on his massive meat missile. You are so high on the blissful boiling stew of chemicals cooked in your overwhelmed, overheated empty head that you can almost taste the last drops of dignity running down your throat. It tastes...delicious, and with the biggest blast of man milk as a chaser, you can't help but continuing to kiss John's johnson like a lover until he pushes you away with his foot and leaves you moaning in the dirt.

You look up helpless and horny at the studs surrounding you and at the crowd of hardons in hard hats circling around them. You wonder vacantly what they will do to you next? With the three J's keep using you as their stress ball/fuck doll? Will they hand you over to the crew? Either way, you're fucked, and the sickest part is you couldn't be happier about it.