I stared at the message. “Water’s Bridge is watching everyone.” I let myself panic for a few moments before steadying my nerves. This could easily be an extension of a prank designed to scare me. A small green circle next to the profile’s icon signaled that they were active. I typed another message out:
How do I know you are who you say you are?
Sent.
Still shaken, I had no time to process my new information. I pulled on a pair of briefs as I waited for my morning coffee to brew. I padded around my small apartment, picking a pair of gym shorts out of my laundry hamper. I brushed my teeth, testing my gag reflex with my toothbrush. The choking feeling called to mind my service two days earlier. My cock throbbed, putting me in the headspace of submission and service.
I walked back to my room, donning a shirt. I figured I would probably be pulling it off as soon as I was inside the chamber, so I spent less time deliberating than last time. Glancing to my phone, it was only 5:20. I would need to remember to bring my phone with me onto the job today; not knowing when my shift would end was torture.
I checked my laptop again, surprised that a response had come in quickly. It said, “I know about Vettera and I know that you’re probably an employee of theirs. A new one. We can talk further, come to me with your computer. Today.” Along with an address. I shivered: this was real.
Looking up the address, I found that it was a house about 45 minutes away. I wrote back:
I’m working until 2 today but can be by after I’m done.
Sent.
It was only after I’d grabbed my keys, my coffee, my scan card, and a jacket that I ran back to my room to check the laptop one last time before I stuffed it in my gym bag. The response simply read: “Ok, I’ll expect you.”
With that, I rushed out the door.
The drive over to the gym was uneventful. When I pulled in, a couple of cars were already in the parking lot at 5:50. I assumed these were trainers or staff. I stepped out of my sedan into brisk, cool, morning air. I flashed my card against the mechanical lock on the backdoor and it flashed its assent. Inside, the faraway sounds of weights clinking echoed in the changing room. In the lockerroom, I found a locker against the far wall and stored my laptop and keys. After my shift, I could pick these up and head to the mystery address.
I walked past the bioshowers, memories of my last shift springing up like daisies. The smell was devoid of the masculine musk which I remembered, instead sharp with lemon-scented disinfectant. The booths looked completely clean, likely wiped down with the same wipes as the benches and weight machines. I turned into the communal shower to discover that there was actually someone already here.
A man, nude save his flip flops, stood facing the showerhead. His chestnut hair was cropped short, the curved hairline precisely shaved into a definite arch. His back rippled with muscle and a peppering of darker blemishes dotted his latte skin. Lower, his waist narrowed then blossomed into his two obloid glutes. Rivulets of water ran off his elbows and meaty calves, slapping the white tile underfoot.
He shot a glance in my direction, alerted by the sound of my arrival. I pried my eyes away from his twisted torso and gave him a short nod, which he reciprocated. He glanced back to the shower, lifting his arm to squeeze a shampoo bottle mounted to the wall.
I made my way towards the hidden door, careful to give the central drain a wide berth. I hooked my finger through a metal clasp, clicking the mechanism free.
“You one of the bioshowers dudes?”
I turned to see the man watching me as he sudsed his hair. He was full frontal, now facing me, and I could study his body more clearly. He was shorter than average, leaving his highly developed muscles to compensate. Even still, his build was more similar to a swimmer than a weightlifter. His pecs, highly defined, pulled my focus in towards his dark nipples. His stomach was flat, abs sleek rather than plush. The prominent V of his hips carved down towards his package. His cock hung alongside his testicles, slack and flaccid.
“Uh, yeah,” I managed.
“Cool, the other one of you is inside already. I’m a personal trainer here, name’s Dave.” He flashed a polite smile, which I returned.
“Tyson. This is my second day. You said someone was in there already?”
“Yeah, he came through here a minute ago. He was about as interested in me as you are.”
I blushed and thanked Dave before I swung the door open. As I stooped through the doorway, Dave called after, “have fun!” as he turned back to face the showerhead.
I let my eyes acclimate to the dark chamber, breathing in the stale air. While the cleaning solution persisted here, a more grounded musk was layered atop. I looked towards the other guy; he sat, shirtless, against the side of the chamber. His legs were spread out wide in front of him, his bulge round and full in his light grey shorts. He looked up to me between a pair of briefs that draped across his face.
“Hey man,” he shakily greeted. His body shook with arousal as he took one last big huff of the underwear before rolling over in front of me. “I’m Miles.” The briefs fell from his face, revealing a puckish, full face with glossy brown eyes. His pupils were blown out like the gooners I’d seen in solo vids. His hair was curly and high, making him look a younger. Though, smile lines indicated he was at least ten years my senior.
“Hi Miles, Tyson.” I reached out a hand which he took. In lifting his arm, I discovered that he had been responsible for the musky overtone in the chamber. A thicket of black pit hair caught and trapped his scent. I’d love to get in there, but I didn’t want to…
“It’s a pleasure. Mind if I sniff your pits?” He asked abruptly. I blinked and laughed at my undue shyness.
“Uh, yeah, let me card in real quick and get situated.”
I clocked in, taking the time to pull off my t-shirt. I turned back to see Miles sniffing the underwear again. This guy really had a thing for scents. I appraised him more thoroughly; his build was heavy but healthy and well maintained. A fur of dark brown hair covered his chest and stomach making small curls that stuck out from his curved body. His thighs were thick and stretched the legs of his shorts. He caught me staring while he enjoyed his olfactory stimulus.
“Want a sniff bro? I bought it off that trainer in the shower. Its pretty musky.”
The thought of smelling Dave’s dick electrified me.
“Uh, yeah, that would be awesome. Thanks.”
“No problem man,” he chimed, getting up to shuffle over to where I was stood. “Here, I’ll trade ya.”
Miles leaned in and used one arm to hold my forearm up, exposing the dark hairs there. I didn’t stink very much after yesterday’s shower, but with no deodorant I knew my pits were probably on their way to getting warmly masculine. Miles, on the other hand, smelled like he hadn’t showered in a while. His musky aroma was overwhelming and he was unapologetic about it, which endeared me to his otherwise repelling smell. He hummed, satisfied, and dropped the briefs in my hands as he switched sides. I brought the underwear up to my own face, cupping the front pouch over my nose. I filled my airways with sweaty, warm jock-musk. While Miles was ripe with the B.O. of a bedrotter, Dave’s balls stank of hard-earned sweat and determination. It was a welcome reprieve.
“It’s good, right? Straight gym rats always have the best smell.”
“I can’t claim to know; I’m kinda new to this.”
“I mean, sure, but I mean outside the job. Don’t tell me you’ve never huffed a straight guy before.”
“No, I mean, well, not really. But the smell in the lockerroom is great.”
Miles gestured to the underwear. “That’s better, though, isn’t it?”
I tossed it back to him, and he held the seat to his nose as I spoke. “Yeah, it is. How’d you get it off him though?”
“I just asked him. Fifty bucks, which is a pretty good price for CK’s.”
“How could you do that though? I mean, it has to be kind of difficult. If you did that to every straight guy you wanted to sniff, you’d get clocked in the nose.”
“Well I don’t ask every guy. Just those that seem open to it. The truth is those straight guys don’t even think about their smelly balls; what’s treasure to you or I was just going to end up in a dirty clothes pile next to a PS5. There’s no harm in asking. They either say yes or no; they’re kinda simple if you think about it. To some of them, it’s really not a big deal.”
“But aren’t you worried they’re gonna, like, react badly?”
“Sure, but that’s with anything. I’m super up front that my whole life, like, revolves around musk. I don’t shower, I keep my place messy. I invite other guys over to hang out and sniff each other while we watch porn. I barely ever wear more than a pair of boxers. I’ve built a life for this, so I’m willing to take some chances to make my fantasy even more of a reality. Otherwise, I’d never get to sniff straight gym bro balls.” He emphasized this last point with an overdramatic sniff of the cloth, pulling an amused snort out of me.
I thought about what Miles said as I pulled off my shorts, and finally, my briefs. He picked up my underwear and raised an eyebrow.
“They’re clean, I just put them on this morning.”
“Aww, too bad. That furry cock looks like it smells awesome.”
“Well thanks. Maybe if we get scheduled together again I’ll bring a muskier pair. The jockstrap I wore to my last shift was pretty rank.”
“Fuck yeah, man, that sounds great. And there’s no way it’s too rank for me. The guys I hang with are pretty extreme.” With this, he proceeded to wiggle out of his own shorts, tossing them into the growing pile of clothing in the corner.
It was kind of reassuring how up-front Miles was with everything. Even though it seemed like he was much more into musk than I was, his eagerness made me more comfortable with my own arousal. My dick was chubbing up as we continued to talk about dude smells. If Miles was musky above the belt, he was rancid below it. His thick curly hairs formed a radiance around his 3 ½ inch cock, which stuck straight out from his belly. A thick line of brown hair ran down the center of his stomach, meeting his crotch in a wide delta. I could smell his balls from a yard away; though, the stink made my mouth water.
I checked my phone and it was just past six: shift started. The energy was much different than my last day of service. Waiting alone for guys to clean, not knowing how long until I could leave, I felt… in over my head. Here, though, Miles and I were feeding off of each others’ horny excitement, and the smell of Miles had my cock leaking.
“Damn dude… you smell really ripe.”
“Thanks bro, I keep it nasty.”
“Fuck yeah you do… I can smell your balls from here.”
“Imagine how good they are up close.” He tugged on the hairy sack, filling the palm of his hand with ball sweat. He raised it to his face and sighed, “soooooo good.”
“Must be really strong.”
“You want some?” He slid over towards me as I pulled back.
“Nah man, I can smell ‘em from here. I’m good.” I worried reflexively that I’d insulted him, but Miles’ face never shifted from his casually ebullient smirk.
“More for me. But I have a feeling you’ll be wanting some in no-time. I mean, working this job, you could call it an occupational hazard. If you’re not a manstink bro already, you’re bound to be.”
“Haha, maybe so,” I conceded. “I mean, I really enjoy getting to sniff all these gymbros. But you’re like, next level.”
“Yeah? Lets see if we can’t level you up by the end of your shift. When do you clock out?”
“two.” I remembered my appointment with the internet stranger.
“Me too—plenty of time. By two, you’re gonna be under my ass sniffing my balls. And loving it.”
My cock panged at the challenge, seduced in part by this guy’s kinky confidence.
“Don’t get your hopes up. No offense, but you’re pretty rank.”
“None taken,” he said as he flexed his arms comically, exposing the patches of hair below.
