The firefighters parade

kilt

John had breakfast with his family. It was the big parade day, but for now he enjoyed sitting with his wife and kids at the breakfast table.
„Will I see you daddy?“, asked his little daughter, Sarah.
„Of course. Mommy will take you to the parade and there you will see me.“, replied John.
John was a stud of a man, big arms, a big back, certainly fit and muscled.
His daughter was even more excited then him.
He looked to his son, who was a little bit older then his daughter and sat there munching his breakfast cornflakes. He had been to the parade more often then his daughter. For some reason his son was not so fond of it. The firemen, the police and all the others marching, he often seemed scared and frightened by it. And he was not really a fan of going to the firehouse, like many other children his age.
„Hey John Junior, if you don’t want to go to the parade, you don’t have to. Then you just stay at home. But of course I would be a little bit sad.“, John said.
John junior looked up and smiled, he knew that it was important for his dad.
„Its not that you gonna see us, right.“
„Daddy will notice that we are there.“ Ericka his wife replied.
John finished his breakfast and put his bowl and cup to the sink.
He dressed up in some trainers and a jumper.
His wife asked: „Do you have everything?“
He quickly stood there and thought.
„Yes I think so.“
He then went to his kids, lifted both up after each other and gave them a kiss.
His girl giggled when he lifted her through the air and his son laughed. Being so strong had its good points.
He then hugged and kissed his wife.
Then he swung the duffel bag around his shoulders, put the helmet on and started cycling to the fire station.

The town had already been decorated festively for the big day. And all along people had put out the flag or some decoration to their house. He could also see how the grounds of the town square were prepared with a stage and gates for the people.

At the firehouse the other voluntary firefighters had mostly arrived. Soon they started an exercise routine. Bench pressing, goblet squats, just everything to make the muscles swell for the day. They were on display and were supposed to look good and manly for the town to admire. The commander led them and himself packed a certain amount of muscle to his exercise. It was heavily centered on increasing muscle size and not so much on cardio or mobility as usual.
Most of the volunteers really were well developed, though.
„Ok boys, lets stop and get ourselves ready.“ The commander announced.
Although John really loved to be a firefighter, he also loved his day job in the kindergarten. And as everyone could see he also loved lifting weights. But now he was to get ready.
He sat on the chair and his best buddy came up.
„Hey Chris, you know what to do.“
Chris smiled made two massage movements with his hands and then took the trimmer, put it to the lowest setting and started methodically shaving off Johns brown curls.
When he finished, both changed places. Then John got rid of his pants and shirt and first started shaving of the hair on his legs and then on his breast. His buddy helped him with the back and he did the same to him.
The other volunteer firefighters did the same and after 10 minutes the entire brigade was bald. Except for the two older guys who shaved anyway.
Christopher took a broom and swept the hair together. Then put in to a bag. It would be auctioned after the parade for making pillows or stuff. And the money would go to charity.
Then they went all together into the group shower at the fire brigade.

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Warm water flowed other John’s body, he felt virign without his hair. Not that he kept it particular long but without any it looked strange. He had a look around to Christopher’s wells developed body. The time both buddies put in at the gym and running really paid off. But among the others there was also eye candy, almost all of them were well developed. They regularly compared their stats and gains after the work outs and of course the down’s women would vote for the most handsome firestud later tonight.
John and Christopher dried themselves up.
Then John said down and foamed his scalp. Right every year it was the same. Clear polished domes. So Christopher came and shaved his head. Then again John did the same with Chris. Every year when he did that he got a boner. Not only him, as he looked to the others some of them had boners as well.
Absentminded he touched the incision on the base of the skull from his tameing. He sometimes though ti was itchy. Or was that just a bad memory.


„Boys, hurry up, the women from the celebratory committee is coming any moment and we want to get ready.“, The commander pushed them to hurry.

So no luxuriating in the nice after shave oil Chris was just massaging into his scalp. That was one of the nicest things of being bald. And Chris was a really good massagist. Often after the training or missions he would massage John on the bench in the station or some other firemen.

So both got dry and stepped out of the shower and started to dress up. For the great parade they were to wear their most formal uniform, their parade gear.


Chris put on his sleeveless shining blue lycra shirt and stretched it tight so that his abs and biceps were nice to be seen. It held his number on it and the coat of arms of the firefighters. John helped him. Then came the kilt. The kilt was made of bunker gear and had a reflective stripe on the front in the form of an L. It looked really handsome. Next were the socks and the polished black boots. They still shone brightly.
Then the dreaded chest harness those straps went around the shoulders, actually accentuating them really well, around the chest and ended in a silver ring on the front and back. It had to sit really tight.
John took a little bit of the glitter lube and massaged it into all the skin that could be seen carefully. The idea was to give the skin a little bit glittery shine and reflection. A little bit metallic.
After that had dried and Chris had helped him with his stuff they all together started gettign into the head gear.
While normally the firemen wore a cap similar to the Bergmütze, for the parade the gear was special. First went the ballgag in, then a strap around the back of the head. Attached to that were a set of blinkers, almost like those from a horse. That would allow the firemen on parade to see what was in front of them and not what was on the side. Then there went the cap.
The commander went around and checked. He also gave all of them a little bit of earwax, that would muffle any noise. So they could feel and experience everything so much more intensive. And were not disturbed. Most of them were used to this and where not Chris and John helped the two newbies with their gear.
It was a rather silent assembly.
The lady from the town celebration committee arrived and started checking on their gear as well.
She went from firemen to firemen to check the blinkers and the tightness of the gear. When she was satisfied she opened the box with the mittens and helped the firemen into them. Once you had put them on, there was no way to get them off yourself and your hands were enclosed. A tight velcro strap prevented that. Then she went from firemen to firemen to latch the mittens to their belt behind their backs. John felt how she gently tucked the latch on his mittens to the short metal ring on the belt of his kilt. There was no way he could remove it without help. And there was no way to remove the ball gag as well. For a short moment the lady came around and inspected his uniform and rattled a little bit on the harness on his shoulder and on that keeping his ball gag inside his mouth. Both were secure and to her liking. This was repeated at ever firemen.


Now they were unable to move their hands as they were secured to the belt of their kilt. They were unable to speak as they had a ball gag in their mouth. They were unable to see due to the blinkers. They were ready.
The firemen went into formation.
It was early enough so that there was plenty of time. First in line was their commander, next to him Christopher who carried the flag and behind them was all the rest. Christoper was the only one whose hands were not chained behind his back, but to the flagpole in front of him.
The Lady from the town committee ordered: „March!“ and the firemen started moving, silently as it had been practiced and as one. A nearly perfect lockstep.
John started to loose himself. He didn’t see a lot anyway as most of his vision was either blocked or consisted of the neck of the fireman before him. But he always felt pride and humility when he marched through town like this. Knowing people were watching you, knowing your family was watching you.
This ceremony had been introduced to honor them but the town’s women had at the same time demanded that they show their humility. So they had come up with this. And now all of town participated, the firemen, the police, even the garbage collectors had gotten a marching kilt and stuff, even though their upper arms were not as impressive as those of the fire brigade. But they were training now with them.
The route was quite long 15 km and some of these days were pretty hot. But then he thought if the shirt was nice and sweaty it would look even better.
Before they entered the closed area of the market square, there was the family area. All the wives of the firemen and their families stood there waiting.
The parade stopped. They spaced itself apart so that there was enough space between them.
Then the wives and families left there waiting areas and walked to their husbands. The husbands still stood at attention.
John felt his wive hug him and his daughter Sarah on his leg.
They seemed to wait for something. Then he could see a phographer taking pictures of them. For the family album.
His wife whipsed into his ear: „John junior didn’t make it, he doesn’t like it. Lets see. Maybe he will be more attentive once he get his treatment.“
John didn’t blink. He remembered with dredd to his own treatment. All men got it when they became adults. A short injection, a stick with the needle at the base of the skull and afterwards they were tamed. Untamed men did hardly get a job, could not marry. Some of the towns hobbos were untamed. Good god he was. It was just so much easier.


Music started to play. The signal for the woemen and families to leave them. They started marching through the gate to the market square. The square itslef was walled off, so that only people who paied gained entry and could see what was going on. And of course you could only bid for a entry ticket and your favorite hottie fireman if you were an adult women.
The firemen stood in the market place in front of town hall, spaced apart each of them to be looked at. Then the lady of the committee came around. She flapped the blinkers close. So now none of them could see anything, just darkness. Then music started to play. John could hear that through the wax.
Now everyone who had paid was allowed to enter the town square. John could feel the rays of the setting sun on his arms. Now they were coming. Mostly girls and young women. The unmarried guys were easy to recognize, the belt of their kilt was red, while his was black. So he could hear how the guy next to him was felt and touched.
As it got more evening, it got more wild. Now he could feel how his nipples were squeezed and a pair of hands touched his chest and gently stroked him. The pair of hands went down and slowly started to gently touch his penis.
A women’s voice whispered into his ear: „I paid for your. I will collect your man seed and maybe I use it.“
John was unable to more then grunt. Custom and honor demanded he stay still until he had been drained.
As a fireman and pretty developed male specimen he would have fetched a good price at the cashier at the entrance, so he would not let her down.
Definitely the voice whispering into his ear was not that of his wife. But it was still gentle and she was nicely and intimately licking his ears. At the same time her hand slowly advancing. Getting deeper under his kilt. He of course was naked there and he felt how the hand was caressing and massaging his penis.
He breath heavily, he knew he was near to the climax. John could feel how something was applied to his penis. He shot his load.
Again he felt how his penis was struck back below the kilt.
He heard in his ear through the wax: “Thank you, that was a nice load. I’m proud of you firefighter.”
John smiled. The hands massaged him, as if to say thanks.
***
Contact to the author: theguardsman@yahoo.com
and see more stories at: https://theguardsmanblog.wordpress.com/stories/

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