Djinni's Gym: Towel Service
When you’d mentioned to your buddies at the college Pride club that you were moving back to your small town after grad, they swooned at the name. “That’s where Djinni’s Gym is, right?” one gasped, fanning their face. “Raj and Shaun’s BlueSky is, like, my favourite.”
“Everyone they collab with is sooooo hot,” gushed another. “Your town must be the cruising capital of the state!”
You tried to assure them that no, it was just as homophobic and shitty as any other small town in the region. You were only moving back to sleep on your parents’ couch until you could get a job. In fact, you’d been friends with the only kid of colour in your whole high school, and he hadn’t had it easy, being Moroccan and gay in that small town. But they insisted, and when you looked up Djinni’s Gym on social media their address was, in fact, in the only mall in your hometown, just down the hall from the arcade.
Before you’d even been home for a week, you found yourself gazing up at the massive sign for the gym, with its antique lamp logo. Some of the gym gays at your college had taken you to the gym once or twice, but it really wasn’t your scene. You were weedy and awkward, the kind of gangling nerd who seemed to have an invisible “kick me” sign on his back any time a jock was in range. But with no gay bar in town, it seemed like this gym was your best chance at getting off with anyone.
The automatic doors slid open and your eyes watered as a gust of humid, musky air washed over you. You tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth as you walked inside, hoping it was just the entrance. After all, why would a gym smell like a sweaty, precummy cock and balls?
An Indian hunk with a cocky smirk stood at the reception counter. Raj, you remembered from the many graphic pictures your friends had shown you. “H-hi,” you stammered, “do you have a free trial?” You struggled to keep his eyes on his face, your mind drifting to the video of his brown cock dripping thick precum that was front and centre on his socials.
Raj’s smirk widened into a perfect, toothy smile, and you suddenly felt strangely like a small prey animal caught in his gaze. “For you, yes,” he rumbled, his accented voice somehow dripping in innuendo. “Would you like towel service, my friend?” he asked, reaching under the reception desk and somehow bouncing his thick pecs at the same time. Your gaze snapped to the dark nipples peeking out of the sides of his stringer tank.
“Uh, sure,” you agreed, your voice thick as you took a deep breath in through your nose to try and calm the sudden movement in your briefs. The sharp, alluring scent of Raj’s musk made your cock harden more instead.
Raj tossed the perfectly rolled towel to you and you scrambled to catch it, desperate not to embarrass yourself in front of this suave, flirty stud. As you grabbed it and clutched it to your chest, you got a whiff of something other than Raj’s scent: more of an animal stench than Raj’s almost curated musk.
You shook your head and hurried through the gate, struggling to hold it together as Raj pointed out different parts of the gym and gestured to the single change room in the back. You had hoped that your hard-on would subside once you were inside the gym in the mass of different body types that frequented it, but every man you saw was a paragon of muscle. With a shaky wave to Raj, you tiptoed further into the gym, still clutching the strangely musky towel, looking around at the studs of every size, colour, and age pumping iron and flirting in the pheromone-laden air of the humid gym.
Desperate that no one saw that the weedy nerd had some kind of creepy erection in his sweatpants, you folded in on yourself and beelined for an elliptical machine facing the gym’s back wall. Sweat already standing out on your pale brow, you shook the towel out to hang it on one of the arms of the machine.
An instant later, as you began to stride on the machine, that animal smell reached your nose again. For some reason, the towel carried a scent like pure, unadulterated sex, and you looked down at it in some disgust. Had they even washed it? You eyed it closely. Why did the thought of it being unwashed get your excitable cock even harder?
You shook your head and tried to focus on your cardio, hoping the stench would fade into the background over time. Sweat began to flow down your face and stick your T-shirt to your back as you upped the intensity of the machine to distract yourself.
Even this wall had a mirror, and you despaired as you watched your ghostly, gangling limbs pumping back and forth on the machine. This was a stupid idea, you told yourself. None of the hunks in this gym were going to give a college kid like you a second glance. You’d better just enjoy this chance to ogle them and then go home, back to struggling through job applications in the hope of moving somewhere better.
But as you started to watch the guys lifting in the mirror’s reflection, you kept noticing their eyes drifting your way. The guy twisting himself into a pretzel outside the yoga studio—Jorge, your college friend’s voice helpfully supplied—kept sneaking glances at you, his eyes mischievous. When he saw you looking at him, he winked and made a “call me” gesture with the hand he wasn’t using to pull his foot against the back of his head. A massive Chinese-looking guy on a deadlift platform licked his lips lasciviously as you locked eyes with him in the mirror. In spite of being the least hunky guy at the gym, you felt strangely like a piece of meat as dozens of eyes followed each twist of your torso and bob of your barely visible butt.
Barely ten minutes into your cardio, your face was burning bright red, the flush creeping under the collar of your shirt as you sweated more from the stress of being watched than from any exertion. You grabbed the smelly towel from the machine’s arm and bolted for the showers.
You were already under the rush of water in the shower before you realised you could have just gone home to wash. It was so strange you hadn’t thought to just leave now that you were uncomfortable. As you scrubbed down your legs, another whiff of that arousing scent from the towel washed over you, and the thought washed away with the soap suds. Shaking your head, you switched off the water and grabbed the towel from its hook.
Barely realising your cock was starting to leak precum just from the towel’s scent, you began to rub it through your hair, your conscious mind trying to ignore the smell that was somehow not so disgusting anymore. As you rubbed, your hair darkened from brown to black, the follicles thickening as the strands curled into a short quiff. You ran your hands through it, confused for a moment and then smiling as you remembered joking about how pubic your head hair looked compared to your nearly hairless groin.
You ran the towel over your face, pausing for a moment to take a deep whiff of the thick, overwhelming smell of sex embedded in the cotton. Your features shifted, chin strengthening as a tan rushed down from your forehead. A few smile lines folded into view around your eyes as you gave yourself a dimpled smile, enjoying the sensation of the towel against your thick black moustache and scruffy stubble. It was so wild that you had this masculine, hairy face, nearly looking Moroccan like your buddy from high school, on such a pale, gangling body.
You ran the towel down your chest, giving your pecs special attention as they grew thick and strong, more dark hair whorling across them from your darkening nipples. Sweat began to bead between the hairs, soaking up the musky stench of the towel you were becoming obsessed with. You barely held back a deep moan as you ran the towel across your nipples, your cock letting loose a spurt of precum at the sensation.
Your core and back grew to match your chest as you towelled off your arms, strong and thick and covered in dark hair. Sure, you didn’t have a six pack, but your belly was way better, way stronger, because of the fat you kept around your middle.
Meanwhile, your arms thickened and darkened, your hands twitching as they grew big and callused and gripped your musky towel harder. You wiped your armpits too, but chuckled as you felt the thick, dark hair that grew in them immediately begin to drip musky, mature sweat down your thick lats. This was your third shower today, you remembered. Sure, it was a lost cause, but there was something sexy about the futile battle with your animalistic armpit musk, especially because of the contrast with your pale cock and wispy pubes.
You gave your rock-hard cock a tug as you started to dry your legs, leaving the best for last. It felt good to grip it with your big, dark-skinned hand, as if you’d never done it before. Had you?
You shook your head at the sudden onslaught of a doubled consciousness. How the fuck did you have the upper body of a mature Moroccan bear paired with the slender legs of some college white boy? Why was your white boy cock so fucking hard and leaky thinking about it? What was…
A sudden wave of vertigo came over you, and you lost your train of thought. Had the showerhead always been so high on the wall, you wondered, idly flexing your thick quads as dark, curly hair raced over them and down your swelling calves. Fuck, you loved being a short, thick muscle bear. You could get picked up and pounded by a muscle stud like Raj, and it was even hotter when you slung Jorge over your shoulder and threw him on the mats to eat the Mexican yoga teacher’s sweaty ass. All that was missing was your own ass, you mused, running your musky towel over your flat, pale ass and between your bulked up thighs.
Your ass suddenly thickened with muscle, bouncing as the cheeks squeezed, and you roared with pleasure, feeling your ring twitch, ready to get opened up. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten your needy ass filled, which was crazy because you usually couldn’t go more than twelve hours between loads. You were so lucky Raj and Shaun had opened this gym to get guys like you some relief.
Fuck, you needed to dry off your cock and go grab a guy to fuck you. One of those young bucks should have enough stamina to work you over.
The feeling of your cock and balls growing as you wrapped the towel around them had you whimpering. Dark, wiry hair grew in everywhere around your crotch, halfway up your big leaky bear cock, and immediately captured your copious sweat, letting that heady, sex-tinged musk you’d been smelling the whole time tickle your nose even deeper. Your eyes rolled back as you used the towel to pump once, twice, and exploded.
Your balls pulled up tight around the base of your dark-skinned cock like you’d been edging for hours, and you whimpered as shot after shot went into the thick fibres of the towel. You felt sweat dripping down your stubbled chin and moaned louder, loving how much of a big, sweaty muscle bear you were.
It could have been seconds or minutes later, and you were still braced against the wall, your towel wrapped around your cock as you gasped for air from a true all-timer of an orgasm. Behind you, you heard Shaun’s ironic voice. “Damn, Hamza, you gonna clean that towel this time, brother?”
You turned around and grinned at the younger man, shaking out your softening cock as you tossed him the towel. “Maybe after cardio,” you rumbled, enjoying the soft Moroccan accent in your voice. “You know I need a towel when I walk.”
“Brother, you need a mop,” Shaun said. He sniffed the towel appreciatively. You watched the Black jock’s cock jerk in his compression shorts. “Lemme get you a fresh towel, on the house,” he suggested, palming his crotch. “Me and this guy need a little alone time.”
You grinned back at him, putting one arm behind your head to show off your dripping armpit. “Why not get it from the source?” you suggested, seeing Shaun’s nostrils flare at your musk. “I can do bedroom cardio today.”
Fuck, you loved this gym. You were so glad you’d moved to this town.
