Rod exploded into the jockstrap. Once. Twice. Then three-times. Chad was drenched. Then Rod heard someone approaching the sauna. He took Chad's jockstrap that he had been sniffing and put it over the jockstrap he was wearing. Partly, it was to conceal the extra jockstrap, partly it was to cover up the mess he had made of his jockstrap, and partly it was to try to get his hard-on to subside.
Rod stood as the door opened.
"Hey, Rod, uh, you alone in here?" Rick asked nervously.
"You see anybody else?" Rod said standing with the towel around his waist, Rick couldn't see the jockstraps under the towel. He left the sauna.
Rod stopped by his locker to shove the soiled twisted jockstraps into his duffel bag, and grab his shower kit. He locked the locker and headed to the showers.
The sticky mess formerly known as Chad and his jockstrap seemed to be fusing together. Rod was showered and dressed. His gym bag with Chad stewing in Rod's juices sat in the hot sun in the metal bed of the pickup truck.
Rick managed to get into Chad's locker, but he couldn't find any jockstraps in there. He scratched his head, and headed to recalculate the math. He must have made a mistake somewhere. A misplaced jockstrap in a locker room was worse than a needle in a haystack. At least with the needle, he could use a strong magnet to find it.