You were browsing your Twitter feed on your much needed break from that meeting which was supposed to be “short” ended up lasting from the moment you walked in until lunch time, which even still was later than you really wanted it to last.

Taking a deep breath of the air from outside, filling your lungs with the chill and freshness of the air around you woke your body from it’s attempts at falling asleep the entire morning. You then took out from your pocket your vape tank, powering it on, and then taking your first drag. The vapour filling your lungs, the warmth waking you up slightly.

Once you’re in the corner where you can chill as much as you want for the next 5-10 minutes, you bring up your phone and browse through your Twitter feed. Flicking through, you see the usual stuff on your feed. Including the occasional advert for various rubbish.

After a couple minutes of flicking through you see the competition on your feed for you to win a bricklayer’s set of cloths. You retweeted it thinking not a lot of it, and besides it wasn’t as though your Twitter had any way to trace back to your colleagues who would think it was really weird how you were interested in the gear.

You didn’t think much of it at the time and quickly forgot about it over your lunch and then the afternoon of trying to get on with some form of work considering your entire morning had been taken up by another meeting where you seemed to get nothing done anyway, as per the usual.

When you finally got to your front door, there was a fairly large sized box placed in front of it. Addressed to you directly, you wondered why you would have a box of this size. You didn’t remember ordering anything to your house in a while. And also it was outside which isn’t the norm for parcels to be left in your area. You picked it up anyway, and unlocked your front door to get in your house and got straight to finding out what was inside the strange parcel.

Opening the flaps of the box revealed brown paper with a note on the top purely saying, “Congrats, you won!” and nothing else. Then your mind clicked, but surely something was wrong. You pulled the brown paper to see a bright orange item in the box. It was. It was the random competition you entered at lunch time. You were slightly suspicious, you’d entered a few of their competitions and they’d always announce it a lot later and post the generic message saying that they would “get in touch to discuss sizing and postage”, but here it was in your house hours after you entered the competition.

Slowly pulling out the items, you put them down on your sofa, and the boots on the floor. Checking the competition post on Twitter, you see nothing about a winner yet and all of the items match so this must be some extreme changing of the rules or something.

– Image from https://twitter.com/DickiesEurope/status/1083697586039590912

You decided to ignore, at least for a minute, the weirdness of the situation you were put in by this, and just how stupid this whole thing sounded. Pulling off your work shoes, socks and jeans you felt your usual sense of relief. Wearing jeans every day for a job didn’t feel comfortable especially when you’re expected to keep them fresh and clean every day. Can’t have office workers smelling even the slightest bit, you sighed specifically at that bit when you thought of it.

Picking up the trousers you sniffed them, they smelt of new workwear. The weird smell which other clothes just didn’t seem to smell of for some weird reason. You put them against your legs to quickly check if they were going to look stupid against you and yet they seemed to match up perfectly to your frame so you stepped into them, and pulled them up. They fit perfectly, fitting better than the jeans you were just wearing.

You checked out the boots and pulled out the socks from inside of them and put them on. The socks felt snug and comforting. Much more comfortable than the thin socks you wore for work, purely for the need to wear some socks to stop the work shoes from rubbing when you occasionally had to walk around somewhere in the office. You checked the size of the boots. They were a size 12, and you were definetely not a size 12. You shrugged it off and put your feet in and tied up the laces.

Taking a few steps in the boots you felt them almost slip off your feet at first, but wiggling your toes helped slip your feet into place, and they stopped slipping until they didn’t slip at all. Your feet felt nice and warm in the boots, and the initial weight of the boots, having steel caps and designed to last, felt like nothing. You smiled looking down, this looked right on your body. Big thick boots are good for the site aren’t they? The “new workwear” smell must have been getting to you, the smell of it getting quite strong now.

Snapping back to reality for a second, you realised you were only half dressed in your new uniform, so you pull off the “casual” shirt you were wearing and threw it onto the scruffy rough pile of clothes on the floor where you put your jeans and socks on top of your work, no, “office” shoes.

As if you were on auto-pilot you picked out your hi-vis polo shirt you had in your drawers for dressing up in, as you noticed you didn’t have one. It was one you got form eBay on your searches, one that actually fit your body and was dirty enough to be believable if you wanted to wear it outside of that office that you weren’t an office worker.

Then you pulled on the brand new hoodie over your head, your head being filled with that smell, even more powerful and mind numbing than before. The feeling of it sitting in place. You walked over to the full length mirror in your room.

Reflecting back in the mirror wasn’t the sad office worker wearing the bear minimum amount of office related clothing to not get complained at, but instead reflecting back in the mirror was a bricklayer. A brickie with in his uniform he won from some stupid competition on Twitter. A brickie with a cocky smile as the bone in his new trousers got even more pronounced, and dumb enough to not fully realise he’d pulled out his dick and had started wanking his cock in front of his mirror.

As you wanked, you felt your hand pulling more at your dick. Your hand rough as a laborer, the feeling sending more feelings of pure bliss coursing through your body. Pulling more thoughts away from your conscious mind. This felt right. You in your gear that you won. You worked hard to wear this gear day in and day out. Memories started flowing into your head of working on site. Working away on site, brick after brick, having a laugh with your mates on the site. After all, you were only working on putting together offices for dumb office pricks to work in. Who cared if you sliped up and had a bit of fun on the job. It all showed on your gear after you worked hard enough.

Once you had tugged enough, thoughts of being in an office had been pulled away from your mind and into your balls ready to let go. Cum rocketed onto the mirror, ropes and ropes of it. With each rope escaping, so did the last few pockets of the boring office worker.

Your mind snapped once you had been given a small amount of your mental capacity back from your wank. Damn you had a big cock you thought as you smirked, finding the kitchen roll you needed to clean the mess of your old self off the mirror and into the bin. Forever gone.

The next day you were awake early and got ready in your new gear for work. Just as you finished your breakfast you heard the familiar honk of a horn from the lads in the van outside ready to go to the site for the day’s work.

Your slow mind only remembered hours later that you needed a pic to send in to the twitter for the new gear he was wearing. You tweeted at them “Propa decent gear. Cheers lads! Can’t even keep it clean already” along with a picture of you with mud splattered over the gear. Already worn in.