Chad lay there. He could hear the sounds of the locker room and showers. Voices echoed weirdly off the tile walls and ceiling.
"I can't wait to hit the showers. That sauna is too hot."
'Not me. I'm going to get dressed and bicycle home."
"But you reek, dude! Aren't you going to shower first?"
"I'm breaking in a new pair of underwear."
"Huh?"
Sigh, "I got super sweaty in the sauna, and I'm going to really sweat bicycling home. The dense sweat will soften the cotton fibers, and turn my generic tighty whiteys into custom fit undies that really hug my cock and balls, not to mention my ass."
"Yuck, is that why all your underwear is yellow?"
"Huh? No. My briefs are white. At least when I put them on. They're like Levi's Jean's, you have to wear them six months straight before washing them to break them in properly."
"Wait! Those undies you were wearing earlier haven't been washed in six months?"
"Approximately. I put them on after Labor Day. Remember, it was right after that hunky lifeguard at the Country Club went missing."
"Labor Day? We, no wonder they're so ripe."
"Yeah. But I got a new pair of tighty whiteys to break in. So I'll handwash the dirty pair tonight. Let them hang dry over the weekend. Then put them away for six months while I break in the new pair. After six months of constant wear, and six months of no wear, those undies will be perfect. They'll be begging to cradle my balls perfectly, and hug my ass like nothing else."
"So then you only change your underwear every six months?"
"Only when I first break it in," he said pulling Chad out of the gym bag and shaking him so that he hung loosely between two giant hands. He continued, "After this pair, I'll have 7 pairs that I've broken in. One for each day of the week."
Chad was facing the gym bag on the tile bench. He was lowered to the floor, a huge foot stepped inside his right leg opening, and then another foot entered his left leg opening. The powerful legs glistened with sweat. The hands pulled Chad up over the giant's sweaty manhood, and ass. Then his waistband snapped into place.
"At least, I can say I saw you in clean white underwear once," laughed the other fellow, "but your new undies look like they're too small."
"I like my undies tight. That's why we call them tighty whiteys, right?'
"Dude, you are so weird. I'm going to shower now."
"You have no idea," laughed Chad's wearer, as he stepped in a pair of black spandex cycling shorts.
Five minutes later, Chad was tasting fresh sweat, as the cyclist began his ride home with a detour up to and around reservoir park. It added two hours to his trip home, but it was worth it. Chad would be think he was in hell for the next six months, as he was worn nearly 24/7. Then, he would be stuck in a dark drawer for six months, and that would be real hell. Then whenever he was worn, Chad would be in heaven.
As he pedaled and sweat, the wearer sipped a sports drink to rehydrate. He was looking forward to college, and wearing the 7 former studs that he jokingly thought of now as having been " briefed".
Chad was wracking his brains to figure out who was wearing him. The thunderous voices had sounded familiar. He was so upset about being worn for six months that he hadn't really looked closely at the manhood now straining every fiber of his new being. If he had least paid enough attention, he'd be able to narrow down who was wearing him. He hadn't even noticed if the pubes were black, brown, blond or red. Chad was soaking wet. He was working his fabric body into every crack and crevice of his weaver's groin and ass.
The wearer moaned softly. He couldn't stop the erection filling Chad and the bicycle shorts, damn it hurt. I was a good hurt. When he got home, he would jerk off, and mark Chad with a new stain of ownership.