The day droned on into eternity. Gary couldn’t bear to look at the clock anymore, and yet his eyes seemed to be drawn to it on a minute-to-minute basis. He had two classes in the morning, political science and psychology. Both of which were spent ogling the illustrious woman across the room and taking sparse notes. She had long brown hair that was in a perpetually messy bun and she always seemed to wear a baggy sweatshirt to class over a pair of yoga pants and boots.

Occasionally she would catch his stare, and he would hide his stiff adoration by crossing his legs and averting his eyes back to the professor. He could always see her smile out of the corner of his eye. After his first two classes of the day, he had a lunch break that he spent with friends before his last two classes. It seemed that the more time crawled by, the more exhausted it became. Slowing and slowing until Gary couldn’t stand it anymore.

Gary had just turned 20; he was a late bloomer, to say the least. In the past year, he had just begun growing facial hair on his smooth pale skin, and his leg hair had only just completely filled in. It was finally time for him to go shopping for a ‘bro,’ which is something men are required to wear on their genitals. For years, he could hardly ignore the advertisements for bros on billboards and in magazines. Laughing men gazing at the camera in their skimpy garments of support. Some bros were sexy with lace and muted colors while others were cute with polka dots. Gary knew he couldn’t walk around freeballing it anymore as things began to develop in his crotch. Today he had scheduled an appointment with a fitting specialist at Victor’s Secret store downtown. It was a few miles away from campus so he was sure he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew while holding a mere training bro at the checkout counter.

His roommate that year would often walk around their apartment wearing just a bro. It cradled his hefty scrotum and provided support to his penis. Gary sometimes couldn’t help but stare. It seemed his roommate’s member reached all the way to the floor. There was no doubt that he had to special order his bros online. 36DD bros that were both stylish and supportive were hard to find at the local Victor’s Secret.

Finally, with an anticlimactic shuffling of papers and zipping of backpacks, Gary finished his classes and was on his way to the store. He was never sure what bro fitting would entail. He knew how women were fitted for bras, but there are fewer variables with bra fitting than bro fitting. Before he knew it, Gary was walking at a brisk trot, and his heart was racing at full gallop. The sun was setting over the slowly sloping paths. Students milled this way and that. As he approached the edge of campus and entered the city proper, students gave way to businesspeople, and grass-lined paths gave way to city streets.

Gary appreciated being shrouded in bustling anonymity as he approached the dreaded store. When he trudged inside, he was inundated with a blast of air conditioning and advertising. Racks of bros were lined up as far as the eye could see. Models were pinned up all over the walls wearing their bros at the beach and in luxurious beds. Gary scuttled to the back of the store where a group of male and female salespeople was folding merchandise and chatting.

“Hi I’m here for a ‘bro’ fitting at five,” Gary muttered. His voice cracked on the words.

“Bridget, our 5:00 is here,” one of the workers called across the store. She hardly even looked up from her folding.

Gary turned his head. His heart bounded into his throat, and his stomach plummeted to the floor as he saw his classmate sauntering across the store. She had shed her typical baggy hoodies and was wearing a tight black shirt over her black yoga pants. The name tag that was pinned upon her medium bosom read, “Bridget.”

Her eyes ignited with a smile as she approached. “We have a few classes together don’t we?”

Gary feigned deep thought, “We do! Which ones though?” He paused as if he didn’t know.

“Poly-sci with professor Tyler for sure. Isn’t he great?”

“Yeah,” was all Gary could manage.

“Anyway, I’m one of the fitting specialists here, so let’s head to the back. Before we do, would you rather have a male or female fitting specialist?”

Unsure of what a fitting specialist even did and following his deep desire to escape the exposure of the sales floor, Gary quickly said, “You’re fine.”

“Great, follow me.”

Gary slunk behind his classmate’s sashaying waist to a hallway in the back of the store labeled, dressing rooms.

They walked along a long line of large rooms with curtains across the doors. Some were open, some were closed, none revealed to Gary’s curious mind any hint of what was about to happen to his fidgeting body. At the last dressing room, Bridget stepped beside the entrance and motioned for Gary to enter. As he walked past her, she said, “I’m going to go grab a few samples and your pre-fitting worksheet while you wait in here. Please strip off your clothing and stand on the platform in front of those three mirrors. Need anything?”

She understood Gary’s helpless grunt as a, “No thanks,” and closed the curtain.

He listened to her footfalls, and when there seemed to be no sound but the generic docile music piping in on the speakers, he pulled off his shoes, socks, and shirt. He didn’t know if he needed to remove his pants for the fitting and prayed he didn’t need to. He waited on the platform and stared at the three reflections of himself. He had a slim build, a hairless chest, and pale skin. His arms were toned from years of weightlifting with the college baseball team. His teammates chided him often for his lustful thoughts about the woman he now knew as Bridget. They spurned him to ask her out already, but he was unable to face the humiliation of an introduction whenever she was around.

Finally, behind the curtain, Gary heard Bridget say, “Cool if I come in?”

“Yeah,” he called back.

She walked in; Gary watched her in the mirror as she put the curtain back into its place. She had in her hand various sizes of nondescript bros, a tape measure, and a clipboard with a sheet of paper on it. She walked around in front of him and took a seat on a tall, stained, black, barstool that creaked under her small frame. It had been placed in front of Gary, so her face was about three feet in front of his crotch.

“This isn’t your first measuring, is it?” She asked as she got comfortable with the clipboard and started to write.

“This actually is,” Gary said.

With a dramatic motion, Bridget raised her eyebrows, smirked, and loudly crossed out whatever she had already written.

“Name?” she asked.

“Gary Ruben.”

“Date of Birth.”

“April 15th, 2000.”

“Relationship status.”

“Single.”

She wrote, he answered, and time crawled. Gary stared at himself in the mirrors. After some time, he felt his eyes pulled down to look at her. Her face was buried in the clipboard of her lap, and her shirt and had inched ever so slightly downwards to reveal a short line of cleavage below her chin. He immediately looked away, then immediately looked back, then looked away. Below his belt he could feel the damage was already being done, he could feel warmth rushing into his penis with alarming speed. Within seconds, he was completely hard, and his pants had a small bulge pushing from behind the fly.

Finally, she finished and said, “Okay, Gary, it’s time to take some measurements. Drop your pants.”

“Right here? Are you going to step out?” He asked.

“Then how would I measure you silly? Let’s go off.” She gestured with her pen at his pants and set the clipboard down on her lap with the other items.

Gary’s heart pounded, he could feel it in his chest and in his crotch. With shaking hands, he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. They comically ballooned forwards as they traced the line of his penis until it bounced free and slapped upward into his stomach with a small clap. It took hardly a second to remove the pants the rest of the way down his legs and tosses them aside. Then he stood as straight as he could and forced his hands to stay at his sides.

Bridget made a small coughing sound in the back of her throat and collected the measuring tape from her lap. She stood up and slid the chair all the way forward until her face was a few inches from Gary’s twitching penis. He looked down her shirt even farther, unable to help himself.

Without looking up from his crotch, Bridget asked, “Is your penis currently flaccid, erect, or halfway home?”

Gary flushed, paused, and said, “It’s pretty much all the way hard right now.”

Bridget pushed a burst exhaling out of her nose, cocked her head to one side, and said, “Okay, for our first measurement we need to get it completely soft. I find small talk usually helps.” She leaned back in her chair and looked up at Gary. “So what is your project going to be on for our exam?”

Gary, in no mind, to make small talk stuttered over a few sentence starters until he was interrupted.

“Mine’s going to be on the current administration’s diversity outreach programs and whether they are truly beneficial in the long run. It seems like a fairly interesting topic, and it should be within the guidelines.”

“Yeah,” was all Gary could muster. His swollen organ seemed to get harder as her breath danced along its skin. It looked at her angrily begging to be touched.

Bridget paused and contemplated the pink slit staring at her. “This doesn’t seem to be working, your young clients are all the same. What do you do to lose an erection in public? Don’t think I don’t see you hiding your erections in the class day in and day out.

“I, um, sometimes I flex my thighs, and that forces blood elsewhere.”

“Well, get to it!” Bridget pulled out her phone and got lost in the boring entertainment there.

Gary looked at himself in the mirror, closed his eyes, and almost begged his body to obey his command for once. He pictured grotesque images of his grandmother in lingerie and thought through the plot of the most effective horror films he had seen. Upon opening his eyes, nothing had changed. He looked down at himself, then at Bridget’s cleavage, then up to her distracted face and said, “Maybe I should just come back another time?”

“Nonsense,” Bridget said. “I have a strategy that has garnered a one hundred percent success rate, you just have to trust me. Want to try?”

In a last-ditch effort to end his embarrassment, Gary jumped at the chance and said yes quickly. Bridget stowed her phone away and leaned forward until her face was nearly touching his furious pink helmet.

“Okay, so we do in fact need to measure your erect penis as well, so I’m going to measure you with an erection first. Would you say you are completely hard now? It seems kind of small for…” She trailed off.

“Yeah, it’s there,” Gary said.

“Okay that’s fine, so first I am going to measure the length along the top. Sorry for the cold hands.”

Bridget reached out with her soft, small right hand and put a decisive finger right over his slit. In a flinch of both surprise and pleasure, Gary’s erection flexed right out from under her finger and bounced up into the air comically.

“Oh!” She said in surprise.

Again, she reached out and put her index finger over his slit and used it to angle his penis downwards. With her other hand, she maneuvered the tape measure in her lap until she had the end in her fingers. Above her, Gary swallowed a moan of pleasure. This was the first time his penis had been touched by anyone else, and the effect was intoxicating. He started shuddering from the adrenaline.

Bridget took the tape measure and placed it gently at the base of Gary’s penis. The root flexed time and again from the stimulation of her finger. With the fingers of her tape measure hand, she finagled it around until it lay along the top of his penis. A slight hiccup of laughter escaped her lips, but she smothered it under a professional demeanor and said, “Three inches long. A real looker.”

With a flourish, she pushed his penis down with the finger that had been placed upon his slit and released it, so it bounced back up into his stomach. To Gary’s horror, a strand of precum swung from his swaying dick and landed on the bosom of Bridget’s shirt. She flinched back. It soaked into the black material.

She shrugged and said, “Ahhh well, isn’t the first time this shirt has been slimed. Hold on a second while I write down your erect length.”

Gary kept standing. More precum oozed from his dick to the floor between them. She took no notice while she wrote.

“Now,” she looked up, “time for girth.”

Looking straight past the globs of precum, she took the root of his penis in two fingers. She gently pulled his foreskin backward and used the other hand to wrap the tape measure around his penis right below the head. When it had wrapped all the way around she pulled it tight, Gary winced, and his penis thanked her with another tear of precum.

“Wow, three inches again. A nice square package.”

She removed her hands and leaned back to write. Over her scrawling pen, she said, “Great, now ejaculate. Shouldn’t take too long by the looks of it.”

Gary almost stepped back in shock. “Excuse me?”

She didn’t look up. “Well, how else do you want to lose your boner? I told you, one hundred percent success rate. Go ahead, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

She finally looked up at him and smiled into his eyes.

“You don’t want me to masturbate right here,” Gary laughed at the absurdity as he said it.

“Look, a bro is supposed to sheath the soft cock in its fabric trunk and then comfortably stretch as the member grows to full mast. If we don’t get soft measurements, then your bro is going to pinch or may ride up, and nobody wants that.”

“I, uh, I…”

“Let’s go, I won’t look if that helps.”

“No, I uh, I mean…”

“Don’t ask for help because there’s nothing here for you.”

Gary stood stock still for a decade. The only movement was the bobbing of his penis in front of him. Bridget was still hardly a foot from his crotch, looking up at him expectantly. Her subtly pre-cum-stained breasts were lying in wait. Fraught with the lack of options, he reached forward with his hand and wrapped it around the head of his dick. Relief and pleasure immediately washed over him, he hadn’t realized how strongly he desired to be touched. Within seconds, his hand had taken up its usual pattern, albeit a fair bit slower than usual due to his increased arousal. It twisted on the upstroke then repeated, hardly traveling down his short shaft at all. Below his hand, his balls rolled in their sack. Aching for a release, they tightened quickly.

“Ahh, good, you have experience with this, I see,” Bridget chuckled.

After a mere thirty seconds of stroking, Gary felt a familiar arming of the cannon in his groin. He moaned and stared with unabashed fervor at Bridget, watching his dick. Her face was neutral, edging towards boredom. She stared at the head of his penis, simply waiting so she could finish her measurements and carry on with her day.

Gary’s hips bucked, and he flexed his thighs, his hand had achieved its ideal pace, and with a groan, he felt pulled over the point of no return. In his mind’s eye, a jet of white, hot ejaculate spurted from his dick and hit a bull’s eye right between her breasts. He watched, as rope after rope seemed to launch into her shirt magnetically and over her pants. In his mind’s eye, she laughed and licked up the small drops that had splashed onto her hands with delight. Becoming more and more enamored with each soaring rope.

However, when Gary opened his eyes to watch his eruption spew forth, the pleasure coursing through his body was lessened as he saw his orgasm begin with a viscous ooze over the rim of his hand and onto the floor, inches away from her boots. Each flex of his penis sent more splooge flowing over his fingers and onto the floor between them. Bridget’s face remained impassive. “Huh,” she said, just to have something to say.

Gary’s breathing steadied, his stroking hand slowed, hitched, and then stopped.

“No, no, no,” Bridget said, “You’re going to have to get all of that out before I start rooting around down there again. Toothpaste it, C’mon…”

Gary slowly restarted his hand from the bass of his penis up the shaft and over the head. One last drop of semen bloomed on his tip and fell to the floor when his body shivered in orgasmic pleasure.

“Good, now the fun part,” Bridget said.

She leaned back and crossed her arms. In front of her, Gary’s penis began its slow descent to repose. It occasionally flexed as the final waves of joy reached from his heart to his balls and back. But in the silence of this Victor’s Secret fitting room, it finally shrunk down to a mere pink head resting atop two spent testicles.

“Ah, well, I don’t need to measure that to know your size, but I’d like to do one thing first, try this one.”

Gary, now released of any previous inhibitions took the bro from her and pulled it up to his legs. He tucked his balls into the pouch and would’ve slid his shaft into the trunk of the bro if there had been any shaft to speak of. Hanging off of his crotch was a leopard print bro that was about four sizes too big. It slouched down in a surplus of unnecessary fabric and pomp. Bridget laughed and reached forward to bat around the loose clothing.

“Sorry, I just love how small ones look in large bros. What a waste of fabric! Go ahead, take it off, here’s the one you will actually need.”

Gary removed his leopard print bro and took from her a plain white training bro. He pulled it up to his thighs and adjusted the straps, so they sat snug on his hips. The front was just two sections, a tiny trunk that would stretch slightly when his penis grew, and a small pouch for his balls.

“I usually have to measure your waist, your soft penis’s length and girth, your hard penis’s length and girth, and your scrotum circumference, but I’ve gotten good at spotting the penises that are too small for our A cup bros. What do you think?”

Gary looked at himself in the three mirrors. He was wearing a jockstrap with no bulge to speak of. “It’ll have to do,” he sighed.

“Good, get dressed and meet me at the cash register, I’ll pull a few more of these for you, and we’ll get you checked out. Oh and clean up this mess, please. They’re trying to phase out the orgasm strategy so I should only be doing it as a last resort, but it’s just too effective.”

Bridget walked out. Without pause, Gary pulled his pants up over his new bro and pulled the rest of his clothing on too. He looked around the room for a paper towel or anything to wipe up the mess. He considered his shirt, but realized he couldn’t exit this store with a stained shirt, she would know exactly what he had done. So in a flurry of motion, he removed his pants again, removed his bro, and sopped up the small puddle of goo on the floor in front of his modeling platform. Then he put his pants back on and stuffed the bro into the pocket with a cringe.

Things felt more normal now. Gary felt lighter. He walked to the cash register where Bridget had already bagged his items and rang everything up. It felt like the floor staff was eerily aware of his presence, but that may have been his imagination.

He paid, and Bridget leaned in to say, “Come back when you’re ready for your next fitting, until then, your little secret is safe with me.” Then she leaned back, winked, and said, “See you in class!”

The End.

 

*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Just remember, even with the limited editing we do, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.