Wrong Turn, Right Hallway Pt. 01

Wrong Turn, Right Hallway

A Wade Wilson Story

by The Preve

Based on the character and story created by Wade Wilson, and illustration by Lechono

The Author wishes to thank Wade Wilson for his permission in writing this story (and no, it's not that Wade Wilson :D).

Part One

It was one of those really stupid "Why the fuck did I take this, what the fuck was I thinking?" bets. The guy who took it knew it was stupid. It wasn't as if he really wanted to take it. It was just Robert Wentworth, head of the Alpha Chi Rho chapter at Dartmouth, had a way of getting under people's skin.

Smug, rich, and classically toxic, he exuded a predatory stench across the keg party like plague over a French village.

Most of the party goers didn't notice, or care. He was handsome after all, and magnetic. The girls, sorority and otherwise, were generally drawn in. So were his fellow frats and male guests.

Now, it wasn't as if he was the center of attention, just the life of the party. A few guests weren't taken in by his shtick, the aforementioned guy among them.

He didn't really want to be at this party. He hated frats, and didn't like to drink, nor was he good with crowds.

The circumstances which brought him here were pretty convoluted.

His cousin (actually second cousin, once removed), Martha Vandergriff, scored a couple of tickets to some high end spa for a full makeover. She had the Jones for Robert, and wanted to impress him, so looking her best was a must.

Unfortunately, the coupons required a couple. Most of her friends were absent, or too busy, and she wasn't about to waste a top coupon on any one of her male colleagues, who tended to have character issues.

She decided on a younger, poorer male relation, attending Dartmouth on a scholarship. He was cute, but a bit too geeky and shy, off-putting to her wealthy, cooler social circle. She avoided him generally, a policy dating back to childhood, on his family's, his Aunt's really, rare visits to hers.

However, his fair pliability made him easy to convince, with some reluctance on his part, to join her at the spa.

On arrival it was easy to see why Martha wanted to use the coupons. These tickets were really rare, platinum class; the highest, best, most expensive spa treatment. Pedicures, skin exfoliation, epilation, including full body hair removal with waxing, laser, and electrolysis ( an over century old process, which the spa allegedly was a pioneer).

Martha was ecstatic. Her cousin less so. She'd boxed him in though, so off he went.

The treatment was impressive for both. They'd had separate rooms, so didn't see each other until their respective sessions were over.

Martha noted her cousin's good looks but was unimpressed otherwise.

"If only he wasn't such a geek, or so shy," she sighed.

Still, he would be a better companion to accompany her to the keg party. It took some convincing.

"Look, it's only a few hours," she said.

"I don't like Robert, and I don't like your friends."

"You can leave after an hour. I just need a date to show up. I'll make my way to the door after. Just do this and I won't bother you again."

Her cousin said, also with considerable reluctance, "Okay."

So now he was standing in the corner, of the main room in the frat house, holding a cup of beer he wasn't drinking, watching Robert brag about some new car his parents bought for him, and the girl he'd scored in it. His cousin, Martha, didn't seem to mind. She stood near, a fox ready to pounce.

"Waiting for him to shut up, I guess," he thought.

The young man hated Robert Wentworth. They worked in the same building, Jansonn & Berkshire. The young man worked as an office boy. Robert was an intern.

The young man had to scrape by on minimum wage, while dealing with a scholarship that didn't cover enough, and student loans he'd be paying past retirement.

Robert wanted for nothing. His parents always paid his way, through college, and into a cushy job waiting at J&B after his internship. He made damn sure the office boy knew it.

Some of the other party goers, the young man noted, also looked at Robert with disgust.

"At least I'm not alone," he happily thought, "But I'm getting the fuck out of here."

He was at the door when he heard it, "Hey! Office boy!"

Fuck!

He turned around, slowly, with a scowl.

"What the fuck you doing here?" asked the fratboy.

"Leaving, Bob," answered the very sour young man.

"Uh uh, no one gets to leave without Doing The Dart."

"Dart? What are you talking about?"

"The dart game. The one for charity. Two compete. Loser has to pay a thou," Robert was very smug on this.

"A dart game. Martha did not say anything about a dart game."

Martha looked at the young man, no trace of embarrassment on her face.

"Guess it slipped my mind," she shrugged.

"Right, I'm out of here," the young man moved to leave.

"Chicken? Buck! Buck! Buck!" Robert smirked.

"No, smart. I don't have a thou, and I'm not playing games with a bunch of worthless rich fucks."

Robert's smug smile vanished, just for a second, then returned with a sneer.

"Well, office boy," he smirked, emphasizing "office boy," "In lieu of money, let's try another penalty. Loser does what the winner says. You up for that? A chance to take me down? Hmmm?"

Now, this moment was where the young man should have said no. Looking back, the young man told himself, kicked himself actually, asking, "Why the fuck didn't I say no?"

Unfortunately, as stated earlier, Robert had ways of getting under people's skin.

Plus, there were the others, including his cousin (second cousin, once removed). All rich, varied degrees of smugness and self-satisfaction among them, looking at him as one to an insect. That got under his skin too. So he said, "Deal."

There's not much to say about the match. Turns out, Robert was a good player, as in three times first prize, Dartmouth Darts Championship. The young man didn't know that. He didn't move in Robert's circles, and nothing the fratboy did interested him. He thought himself good enough. Not quite.

The victorious fratboy turned to the defeated, and humiliated, young man and gave his orders.

And that was how Wade Wilson, the humiliated young man, found himself in the men's restroom of Jansonn and Berkshire, next to the lobby, divesting himself of his clothing.

Wade cursed and muttered under his breath, spanking himself for the thousandth time, for letting his cousin Martha drag him into this shit, and allowing himself to take Robert's bait.

If any satisfaction was to be taken, it was the time and day selected for the stunt.

Robert told him what he had to do, but neglected to mention one part of the agreement, something Wade seized upon. Robert could do nothing about it, as the terms were already set before witnesses.

"You said I had to streak the J&B building. You didn't say which day, or time. I choose Saturday, at noon." When the building would be mostly empty because of the weekend. Robert's chagrin went up a level when he remembered the security cameras were scheduled for maintenance. No footage.

"Also, no one else comes with me."

"Touche office boy," Robert sneered, "but we're going to need proof you did the deed."

"I'll take a selfie and send it to Martha."

"What the fuck?!" interjected the second cousin, once removed. "No fucking way I'm looking at your bare ass!"

"I have your phone number, you're the only relative around, I'll only send above the waist shots, and besides," Wade glared at Martha, in a way the sent an uncomfortable chill through her, "You got me into this shit, so you get to face what you did."

Martha shifted nervously. I've never seen him like this. I really pissed him off. "Um, okay," she muttered.

The J&B building was an easy access for employees on weekends. It wasn't uncommon for some broker or exec to work on a trade, or negotiate a deal on Saturdays.

Sometimes an intern or office boy was needed to fetch and carry. Wade wasn't above working a bit of overtime, and kept a flexible schedule.

The office was good with respecting his needs as a college student. It wasn't unusual for guards and maintenance to see him on Saturdays.

Security's casual attitude was partially illusionary. They were pretty vigilant, especially with the cameras down. The staff made sure all sensitive documents were well-secured before leaving. Most of the guards' attentions were focused on the vaults.

Wade planned his route. His best bet would be the lower floors, through the less traveled hallways. The Jansonn & Berkshire building was a fairly new one, designed by Zaha Hadid, and built in the early aughts. Easy to navigate.

"Should be twenty minutes, tops," he thought.

A long twenty minutes, though. Where anything could happen: a prospect that caused a stir, in a place most problematic.

"Down boy," he willed it, affecting the ambivalence he'd always tried to maintain, about himself, his body, and most especially, his cock.

After stripping, and stowing his clothes in a duffel bag, he put the bag in a back stall, then went to look over himself in the mirror.

Wade was never comfortable with his looks, or his body. People thought him cute, certainly, ever since childhood.

His face was symmetric, with wide eyes of dark brown amber. A snub nose, an oval face, with a narrow chin, broad forehead, and soft features, drew some eyes his way. His geeky personality, and shy demeanor, offset any attention, though.

His ears were well-shaped, average in size. A mop of neatly cut dark brown hair topped his head.

He had a slender body, not skinny or bony. He even sported some muscle tone from regular swims; certainly not robust, however.

His skin was pale, and clear. Some miracle, or genetic luck, kept him clear of acne through adolescence. No pits, blackheads, or whiteheads marred his skin.

His height was average, 5'7". A prick like the 6' solid Robert Wentworth could easily outmatch his 125lb frame.

Wade's slender, slight body didn't do him any favors in school, but one part presented questions he was reluctant to explore.

Wade made a decision to keep it a secret. At least until he could figure it out. It was difficult. His refusal to shower with others after gym contributed to his shy reputation. He also wore baggy trousers and loose-fitting shorts, to help conceal it.

Only one person, outside his doctor at home, knew his secret. The spa attendant who'd removed his body hair.

The man in question (and it surprised Wade greatly, as he expected these type of spas to only employ women) was very candid about Wade's secret.

"Geez kid! You could be a porn star with this thing! You mean to tell me this is the first time you actually showed it to anyone?!"

"Um," Wade blushed, "I . . . don't really know how to . . . um . . . deal with this."

"Humph! Well kid, this isn't the first cock I've had to deal with. It's certainly the biggest though. Look, you're getting the full treatment here, per the platinum special, so it's going to hurt a little, but when I'm done, you're going to have a look guaranteed to put girls in your lap. It also helps your balls are near perfect too. The girls hate the droopy, saggy ones. They go for the plum shapes."

"Er . . ." Wade didn't know how to respond.

"Look kid, I guess you're shy about this, and you strike me as virgin so I'll keep my mouth shut and get to work, but really, you have a damn fine asset here. When the time comes for you to use it, don't be scared. Just make sure it doesn't use you."

"Good advice, but easier said than done," thought Wade, looking at himself in the mirror.

Other than his head hair and eyebrows, the spa guy had taken everything else. The underarms, the pubes, the taint, and all the peach fuzz and what little hair from his lower belly. The result was a very smooth body, but his package looked even more unwrapped.

Flaccid, Wade's cock set at a sizable six inches. He knew when erect, he was an impressive eight.

Moreover, it was thick. Not so thick as to be grotesque, or too large in girth, but thick enough. Its shape was pretty good as well, almost a perfect penile aesthetic.

Overall, yes, Wade could see the potential, but was unsure he wanted to utilize it.

He never saw himself as sporting the kind of macho ego people like Robert, the frat brothers, or even some of his own friends displayed.

Locker room talk made him blush, and he never thought to brag about his own size. That trait exasperated more than a few. It invited the contempt of the Robert Wentworths at work and college. Even some of his friends, both at home and on campus, distanced themselves. Shy geeks tended to crimp their style.

Wade took in his body, sighing, then grit his teeth.

"Well, best to get this over with."

He took his iPhone, pointed it at the mirror, and clicked. He made sure to raise enough of himself on the sink, exposing part of his lower region.

After ensuring he hadn't accidentally included his cock, he sent the photo to Martha, without a text. The bird he flipped in the image spoke for him.

He stowed his phone in the duffel, then returned to the sink to wet and slick back his hair, a habit he picked up from swimming. He padded to the entrance, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

He peered around the entrance first, checking the lobby. It was clear. The reception and help desk were around the corner, just out of sight; one of the reasons he chose the lobby restroom for the strip.

The other reason lay at the end of the hall: the elevator. He could make a quick dash with the cameras down. No one would know.

"At least if the elevators are fast," he thought.

His cock stirred again, "Not now Wade."

The origin of the stir came from a secret, more deeply held, even than his cock: Wade anticipated the streak.

Can I get away with this? He was curious. What will happen if someone catches me nude?

The contradiction was something he'd long recognized in himself. Shy about his body, yet wanting to display it. Fearing nudity, yet wanting to feel the air on his bare body. The thrill from the possibility of discovery vs the fear of it.

Wade held his feelings on the matter close. He certainly didn't want to give Robert any satisfaction of exposing them.

"Okay Wade," he tensed, "Ready! Set! Go!"

Wheeee! Boogity! Boogity! And Wade was at the elevator, pressing the button.

"Figures Ray Stevens would get in my head," he thought, fidgeting.

Wade waited, nervously glancing back, hoping security would not come, yet struggling to damp his anticipation if they did.

The elevator opened. He entered, ignoring his erection. He pressed number three, the financial analysts floor. It would be empty, or should be. He could walk through it, simple.

The windows were his streak's most important aspect. Floor three, along with the others on his planned route, had large windows. The windows on the designated route faced the park. Robert and Martha, along with their respective frats and sororities, were there. The plan was for him to go to the windows on the designated floors and wave. The area was close enough for them to see him naked, but not so they would see details. He'd display proof, at least, he fulfilled his part of the bet.

The elevator reached third and opened. Wade padded out, onto the floor, and promptly ducked under the nearest desk.

Third floor was not empty. One person was there. On one hand, it was a good thing, as her head was turned away. On the other hand, the lady in question was one of the last people Wade ever wanted to meet naked.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What's she doing here?!

Nicole "Nicki" Wallace, senior finance analyst, glanced up from her laptop.

Somebody get off the elevator?

Ordinarily, she'd hash out these housing market numbers from home, or assign some minion to it, but the Wi-Fi went down, and her idiot neighbor cut through a landline, trying to expand his driveway. Plus, with the volatility these days, Anne wanted an experienced hand to go over these figures.

"I should be working out in the gym right now," Nicki grumbled.

Fuck! Shit! Ms. Wallace! The Nut Cracker! Right here!

Wade immediately caught himself. Nicki the Nut Cracker was a term used by Robert, and Wade didn't like using anything from Robert (even though the term didn't originate from him). It illustrated Robert's lack of respect for his seniors, a clueless aspect for which Wade felt contempt.

Fearsome as she was, Ms. Wallace more than commanded respect. Highly competent, extremely intelligent, absolutely no nonsense take-no-shit, and with a rock hard Amazonian body, she was someone not apt to be kind to a naked nineteen-year-old streaker.

Unfortunately, she was between Wade and the windows, and it didn't look like she was leaving soon.

Wade peeked above the desk. Ms. Wallace was at another, near the copier, working on a laptop. She wore a gray, form-fitting power suit. Not surprising.

She always dressed to impress, yet exuded a strong, disciplined conservatism. She reminded Wade of a drill sergeant.

Typically, when Wade ran across her in the office, she barely took notice, often handing him papers to deliver, or ordering him to fetch coffee, and dismissing him a second later. A lowly office boy like Wade was well below her notice.

"It's definitely not going to be the case this time," Wade thought, "Fuck! What am I going to do?"

He could use the desk layout of the office to keep out of her sight, but the area near the copier was open. At the minimum, if he went for the windows, he'd be on her peripheral vision.

Ms. Wallace was standing, leaning over her laptop. Wade had to be careful, sneaking around the desks, keeping her in his sight. Ms. Wallace looked intently focused on the screen. Wade crept close and pondered his next move.

I can't streak past her. The windows are on the right. She'll see me and I'll be fucked. I'll have to sit and wait.

Ms. Wallace wouldn't be there forever. I can wait her out.

Still, crouching under the desk was uncomfortable, and Ms. Wallace wasn't budging. Opportunity came five minutes into the crouch.

"Damn this fucking market!" thought Nicki. "Housing's going crazy. I'm calling upstairs, fucking Wi-Fi. I'm going to need the office."

"Yes!" smiled Wade, as Ms. Wallace closed her laptop and left around the corner. Perfect!

He crept from under the desk and made for the hallway.

The windows, on sunny days, were almost impossible to see into, but the day was partially cloudy, with a slight overcast. Some of the watchers in the park had binoculars.

Wade ran to the windows. They were high placed.

I'm going to have to jump. These windows can show me to my waist, but asshole Robert's going to need proof I'm naked up here.

Wade jumped up and down a few times, waving his arms. See this fuckers? He turned to streak back to the elevators. Only his quick, subsequent, reactions saved him from disaster; not completely though.

Ms. Wallace was back. Wade and Ms. Wallace turned their respective corners at the same time. They saw each other. Wade, however, moved quickly enough that Ms. Wallace only caught a glimpse.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity! Fuck! Wade immediately streaked for the door at the end of the hall. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" followed behind him.

****

Nicki's call upstairs was curt, "Sell it now!" A simple advice, and that was that.