November
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
46
Views:
48,036
Reviews:
341
Recommended:
3
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
46
Views:
48,036
Reviews:
341
Recommended:
3
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
November 3
November 3: Thursday/Havar
It hadn't been a bad day, but it hadn't been a particularly good day, either. It was just a day, much like any other. He wandered into the showers, towel slipping low along his waist, cinched on a side by one hand. Under the hot water, he soaped his back, legs, chest, and arms, face, hair, and gently, his female entrance and penis, both of which were still sore from the change.
The showers were empty this time of day, and Havar timed it that way on purpose. He leaned his head back under the flow, rinsing through, shaking the water from the tight curls of his hair before dipping back under to be soaked through again. The day had been long, and he savored these moments of privacy, times for thought with no one but God and himself.
He finished his bath, shook his hair through one more time, and
headed out towards the lockers, careful to wrap the towel around himself. At #262, he twisted the combination (a bit of an antiquated idea, having locks like this) and popped open the door with a familiar metallic cling-clang. He dropped his uniform on one the bench by his thigh and was just about to drop the towel and dress when a sound from behind startled the fuck out of him.
The man laughed.
"Jumpy, aren't we, soldier?"
Havar heaved in a breath.
"You just startled me a bit, sir."
"Keeps you on your toes. You finished for the day, Granger?"
"Yes, sir. Just done my workout, getting on my way."
Commander Anton Yavisk looked him over, lingering for a moment on his still-exposed chest, and Havar wondered briefly if the rumors were right; he had a sudden sickening fear of being discovered like this, here, by him. But when he looked again, his commander had already lost interest and was busily extracting something from one of the unmarked lockers with a set of master keys.
"Workout. How much was your bench today, Granger?"
Havar flushed a little - since his change, he'd found his muscle mass rapidly decreasing, and he'd had to work overtime at weights to gain it back. He still wasn't quite there. He'd told them all he hadn't been eating well.
"185, sir."
Yavisk made a vague sound of approval, found what he was looking for, and abruptly shut the locker back, turning to Havar for only a brief nod before going on his way.
Hearing the heavy metal door clang shut behind him made Havar release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Lucky, he thought, that the commander had been so distracted by whatever he'd been looking for that he hadn't thought to ask why that door hadn't been open in the first place. It would have been very easy after that, Havar reflected, for Yavisk to expose his secret.
It hadn't been a bad day, but it hadn't been a particularly good day, either. It was just a day, much like any other. He wandered into the showers, towel slipping low along his waist, cinched on a side by one hand. Under the hot water, he soaped his back, legs, chest, and arms, face, hair, and gently, his female entrance and penis, both of which were still sore from the change.
The showers were empty this time of day, and Havar timed it that way on purpose. He leaned his head back under the flow, rinsing through, shaking the water from the tight curls of his hair before dipping back under to be soaked through again. The day had been long, and he savored these moments of privacy, times for thought with no one but God and himself.
He finished his bath, shook his hair through one more time, and
headed out towards the lockers, careful to wrap the towel around himself. At #262, he twisted the combination (a bit of an antiquated idea, having locks like this) and popped open the door with a familiar metallic cling-clang. He dropped his uniform on one the bench by his thigh and was just about to drop the towel and dress when a sound from behind startled the fuck out of him.
The man laughed.
"Jumpy, aren't we, soldier?"
Havar heaved in a breath.
"You just startled me a bit, sir."
"Keeps you on your toes. You finished for the day, Granger?"
"Yes, sir. Just done my workout, getting on my way."
Commander Anton Yavisk looked him over, lingering for a moment on his still-exposed chest, and Havar wondered briefly if the rumors were right; he had a sudden sickening fear of being discovered like this, here, by him. But when he looked again, his commander had already lost interest and was busily extracting something from one of the unmarked lockers with a set of master keys.
"Workout. How much was your bench today, Granger?"
Havar flushed a little - since his change, he'd found his muscle mass rapidly decreasing, and he'd had to work overtime at weights to gain it back. He still wasn't quite there. He'd told them all he hadn't been eating well.
"185, sir."
Yavisk made a vague sound of approval, found what he was looking for, and abruptly shut the locker back, turning to Havar for only a brief nod before going on his way.
Hearing the heavy metal door clang shut behind him made Havar release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Lucky, he thought, that the commander had been so distracted by whatever he'd been looking for that he hadn't thought to ask why that door hadn't been open in the first place. It would have been very easy after that, Havar reflected, for Yavisk to expose his secret.