Dear Mr. Fix-it: Car Trouble

Dear Mr. Fix-it,

I’ve got sort of a good news/bad news situation. I recently got a promotion at the car lot where I work, from salesperson to showroom manager. That’s obviously the good news.

The bad news has to do with some of the sales team who work for me. The lot owner was in a fraternity back in his college days, and he tends to hire a lot of frat alumni to work in those jobs – I got along with them when I was also a salesman, and it didn’t bother me when they goofed off because it just meant more customers for me. But now that I’m in charge and responsible for their performance, it’s frustrating when they blow off everything I tell them to do. What’s worse, they can get out of trouble by complaining about me to the owner, and then he tells me to “stop being a whiny baby and let the boys have their fun.”

I think the problem is that I just don’t have a commanding presence. Many of sales guys are big ex-jocks who are used to getting their way, and although I’m average-sized (5’8”, 160 pounds), I’m still smaller and not very intimidating. Can you help me become more of a stronger leader to these troops?

Signed,

Help Out the Soft Spoken

Dear H.O.S.S.,

Congrats on the promotion, but condolences on the headaches that go with it. I’m sure we can make an adjustment or two that will help things go a little smoother. Let’s see what is listed for your body type – ah, here we go: ectomorph. You’ve got a high metabolism that helps keep you lean. I’m going to switch that over to a combination of ectomorph and endomorph, so that you will get the best attributes from both the larger body structures. Second, I see that your personality is listed as a beta. Well, as any frat guy can tell you, it’s better to be an alpha, so I’m going to up you a notch to take on the qualities of a top dog.

Ok, now let’s see how things will turn out tomorrow. Looks like the sales guys will be sitting in the showroom and talking about sports and video games – well, until they feel the floor vibrating and hear the heavy-footed “stomp, stomp, stomp” of your arrival. Instantly they will jump up from their seats and scurry into action. You will emerge from the far hallway, and damn, you will be an impressive sight. Instead of 5’7” and 160, you’re going to be 6’5” and 340 very bulky pounds. Your patchy brown locks have been completely shaved off, and the only hair remaining on your head will be your eyebrows and a sexy thick mustache covering your upper lip.

You will be wearing a constricting red polo with the car lot logo embroidered just above your enormous right pec, and the name “Chuck” above the left one (no more “Charles” for you, I guess). The shirt shows off the rest of your upper body mass just as well – even from across a large room, people will gawk at your beefy 25-inch arms, cannonball shoulders, and ridiculously large delts than threaten to swallow your thick neck. It will also reveal the solid muscle gut that is the result of years of high-protein meals to help get you as big as possible. The polo will be tucked into your khaki slacks, which look like they may split apart an any second from the size of your concrete thighs that can routinely handle 800 pounds on the squat rack. Your whole persona won’t read sales manager, but rather jacked powerlifter. People will be scared to disappoint you, and nobody will say no to anything you want.

As you power your way across the floor to the office, one of the sales guys will rush in right before you with a giant shaker cup and three danishes. His name is Tad, and he has the look of an entitled 22-year old preppy – blond hair, blue eyes, expensive clothes. “Here you go, Chuck,” he will say. “Your breakfast is ready.”

You will sit down in the oversized executive chair behind your desk, take a swig of protein drink in the shaker, and inhale the first danish. “Fuckin’ stale,” you will say in voice that is so deep that James Earl Jones would be jealous.

Tad’s of course going to apologize and promise to run over to the bakery and get new ones. “I’ll be back before you know it, big guy.”

“Bring four new ones,” you will demand. “I’m starving from my workout this morning.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

As he leaves, a second preppy type – this one with wavy brown hair and named Blake – will cruise in with a stack of papers.

“Here are the sales from the past week, Chuck,” he will say. “We hit all the targets you wanted.”

You will smile, knowing their work will earn you a huge bonus – but you want it to be bigger. You have your eye on a second home by the beach and need more funds for the mortgage. “Blake, you want to make me happy?”

Blake will nod and say, “Most definitely. Whatever you want, sir.”

His acquiescence will rouse your cock. He’s too scrawny to take to bed, but you will get horny just knowing that your powerful physique makes him putty in your hands, especially since he used to be one of the biggest goof-offs in the workplace. You will stand up from your desk and adjust your half-hard dick, making sure that Blake gets an eyeful of the bulging outline, and walk over to him. You will put your massive right arm around his neck and pull his head right up to your pec, so close that if he stuck out his tongue it would just reach the tip of your thimble-sized nipple nuzzled under the taut fabric of your shirt. You will feel his whole body trembling, and you can see the sweat on his brow, but won’t be sure if they are the result of terror or lust. Either way, his reaction will just make you more horned up and your cock will begin to tent your pants; you won’t care, of course, as you will actually love it when you get a public erection. You didn’t get as big as you are not to be noticed and admired.

“I need more from you and the team, Blake” you will say in a whisper right next to his ear. “I want the sales figures to triple next month. And if you can make that happen, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Blake’s penis will sprout up in his slacks, and he will cover it with his hands. You will put your free hand on top of his and press firmly once. And then twice. And then a third time. “Can you do that for me, Blake? Can you make me…”

Before you can finish your request, Blake will finish in his pants. His eyes will roll back, he’ll let out a soft moan, and then he will run out of the room. As soon as he cleans himself up, however, you know he will start rallying the troops to make sure to achieve the goals.

That down-payment on the beach house will be as good as yours.

OK, so it looks like everything is fixed for you, H.O.S.S. I don't think any of those salesmen will be a problem for you anymore!

Sincerely,

Mr. Fix-it