It was a few days later that I caught a whiff, again, of the man from the gym.
Just a whiff as I was heading into my building that afternoon, but it was gone before I could trace it and run him down–still, I recalled how he had captured my interest, much the same way Jack’s feet had before…and I told Adam I would be taking the rest of the week off from work. He didn’t object–he just kept eating, not that Jack was going to give him much of a break. I’d told Adam that when he’d gained fifty pounds, he’d have the privilege of cleaning one of my feet again, and that was more than enough to inspire him to greatness–that, and Jack was proving to be quite an excellent taskmaster.
Thankfully I remembered the name of the gym from when I’d stalked him before–Planet Workout. I had no way of knowing if that was the gym where he actually attended, or if he just had one of their old gymbags, but it was the only lead I had, apart from scouring the city for him up and down. So that day, I walked over to the gym, housed in a rather rundown looking warehouse, and stepped inside…and holy fuck, the smell of the place.
The city smells. As my nose had become more sensitive, I had found that I everything had become more intense–especially the smell of men–but there was so much out on the streets I just…tuned it all out, because it was simply too much to process. But stepping into that gym…it was the first place I’d entered where the scent of man was just…so concentrated. It was everywhere, and it hit me like a brick, my cock spewing a load right there in the entryway–it was all I could do to keep myself contained and not start jacking off right then and there. Even better, I could smell him on the air–not strong enough to tell me he was there right now, but plenty to confirm for me that this was most certainly where he got his workouts.
The woman at the desk looked like her stomach was going to turn as I approached, and she left before I could ask about membership. I had to hunt down a guy on the floor, and he was more than happy to sign me up for the gym, even if it meant cutting the session short with the member he was working with. With my membership card in hand, I went back to my apartment, threw on some reasonably appropriate clothes to work out in, and went back to the gym. I had never worked out in my life, but I haunted that gym for hours, filling the place with my musk as I sweated and stank all over the place, and by that evening, all of the women had left, leaving a smaller collection of men wondering why there were all so horny all of a sudden. As tempting as some of them were, I was waiting for him, my muscle man. The rest…I’d sample them later.
I arrived early the next morning as well, determined to wait. From the smell of him he was here often–there were only a few smells of men there more prevalent than his, and sure enough, around two in the afternoon, he walked through the door, and I whirled toward him…and scowled. He wasn’t wearing it. He wasn’t fucking wearing it! He was there, his smell was there, but the beautiful musk of that fucking tanktop he’d been wearing was nowhere to be found. I went over to see what he had on instead, and my heart dropped–in fact…he was wearing it. I realized then, that since I’d seen him, he must have fucking washed it.
I can’t tell you how fucking angry I was, when I realized that. I had already taken ownership of that shirt in my mind, it had been mine ever since I’d first caught wind of it. The idea that he’d taken that perfect musk and washed it out…it was the closest I’d ever felt to true grief. I could barely function–I just sat around the gym, staring at him, wondering what I could do to him, but nothing seemed to match the travesty he’d committed, no punishment would suffice. Still, as he worked out, as he sweated into the shirt, I…I could smell it a bit better. Faint, but it was there all the same. Different too…but given enough time, and the right sort of encouragement, I had no doubt that he’d be able to produce something equally pleasing, even if it wasn’t quite the same. In fact, I bet that I could make something even better.
He finished up his workout, or at least he thought he did. He was heading for the door, when I intercepted him, struck up a bit of a conversation with him, and directed him into the locker room instead, and directly into the sauna with me. Let me tell you–I stink, but put me in a hundred degree room with a ton of humidity, and there’s nothing fucking like it. I did bother to learn his name, finally–Bruce–and after an hour of him worshiping my body, of keeping his rock hard cock right at the edge of orgasm, he was willing to do just about anything to get a taste of my grungy crotch, but I kept him back. When I was certain he was well in control, we went back out onto the floor of the gym, and he went back to working out–and he didn’t stop. I was nice enough to run out and get him some dinner, which he devoured, arms shaking, barely able to lift anything–so I had to feed him the entire pizza I’d bought–but then I ordered him back onto the machines. All the while, I could smell him, the shirt, intensifying–soon, it would be ready. Soon, it would be mine.
Bracken's Corner 