Brad arrived just a few minutes early for his job interview. A brand-new college graduate, he had high hopes for a sales job in this computer tech company -- he had spoken with the recruiters at his college's job fair and they seemed pretty interested.
He was definitely looking his best. He'd just bought a fairly stylish (but not too expensive) suit for his job search -- he'd need one anyway if he got the job. Tall and good-looking, blond and brown-eyed, Brad had the kind of face and body that would get him in any door -- the ideal salesman, he'd been told.
The receptionist appeared to be impressed by his looks, as well. Still, her first words surprised Brad a little. "Photo-ID, please." Seeing the blank look on Brad's face, she explained, "We're very security-conscious here -- we have a number of government contracts, and they require very strict adherence to the rules. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"
"Oh, no, no. Not at all. I think that's great," Brad responded, eager to ingratiate himself, as he pulled out his driver's license. "I think good security is very important." He realized that sounded a little inane, but he figured the receptionist would understand that he was pretty nervous.
"I'm glad you agree," she smiled at him. "You're right on time, so let me take you to our security officer, who will conduct you to Mr. Anderson's office." She walked toward the door on the far side of the office, Brad following obediently. Halfway down a long hallway, she knocked on a door and waited for a response. After a long pause, the door opened, revealing a giant of a man in a sort of policeman's uniform with the name of the company stenciled on the shoulder and cap. Brad was just under 6 feet tall, but this guy was half a head taller and built like a WWF wrestler, to boot. He gestured Brad into the room.
As soon as the door closed, the officer nodded at the row of lockers on one side of the room. "No outside material is allowed beyond this point. Put all your clothes into one of those lockers. You can use the hangers for your suit and shirt. You won't need anything else. Mr. Anderson has a copy of your application forms."
Brad just gaped. Strip? That was pretty open-ended. What was this all about?
The security officer -- Lt. Dutton, according to his name-tag -- gestured impatiently. "Come on, get moving. Your appointment is in three minutes. Mr. Anderson doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Brad blinked and decided he'd better follow procedure. This was evidently a standard part of their security arrangements. He walked over and opened one of the lockers and removed his suit coat. He took out a hanger, put the coat on it and hung it on the back of the locker door. Slowly, he removed his tie and shirt, put them over another of the hangers. After slipping out of his shoes and socks, he opened his trousers and carefully stepped out of them, neatly putting them on the same hanger as his coat.
By now, he was down to his undershirt and boxers. He glanced over at Officer Dutton.
The officer nodded impatiently, "Them, too."
Uneasily, Brad pulled off his undershirt, exposing his big pecs and flat belly to the older man. Usually, he felt very manly when others saw his sculpted upper body, but something about Officer Dutton made him feel more like some kind of an object than a real man. He could see the man's eyes taking in his body -- he looked to be evaluating what he saw but didn't seem particularly impressed.
Finally, he pulled off his boxers. His enormous uncut cock and hairless balls swung and wobbled as he stepped out of his shorts with first one foot, then the other. He could sense the security officer checking him out as he folded his underwear and put them into the locker with his other clothes. He felt a tingle between his bare asscheeks, imagining the man's eyes on his asshole. He was sure it wasn't visible -- he wasn't bent over all that far, his cheeks were full and his crack deep -- but he could feel the man's eyes on his butt.
Just as he finished putting his clothes into the locker, Officer Dutton stepped up and slammed the locker door closed, fastening it with a padlock. "OK, let's get going. You're already late for Mr. Anderson."
Brad was in shock. "What? But... but I can't see him like this. I'm naked!"
"That's right! That's the whole idea. This way there's no chance you're wearing a microphone or hiding a camera. You wouldn't believe what some of these guys try." He grabbed Brad's arm and started propelling him to the door. Brad tried to resist, but it was like fighting a force of nature. The guy was way too powerful. "Oops! Almost forgot. Against the rules to go barefoot in the halls." Officer Dutton reached down and pulled open a drawer at the foot of the locker. "We keep some footwear here for guests to wear." He pulled out a pair of cowboy boots.
Brad couldn't believe his eyes. Cowboy boots! Well, at least it was better than nothing.
