The hallway was cold and quiet, dimly lit with flickering lights above. I followed the guard in silence, my steps slightly uneven. I kept glancing at the sticky stain on my butt, convinced it was still visible even under the shifting shadows.
He stopped in front of a heavy black door. Without saying a word, he opened it. A small room. Metallic. Clean, but… claustrophobic. A single bench. Hooks on the wall. A faint whiff of cologne mixed with sweat in the air. I stepped in. When I turned around, my breath caught in my throat. The guard was stripping.
His shirt came off first, revealing a chest built like armor. Then his belt clicked open. He was taking his time, like it was part of a ritual. Like he knew I was watching. Like he wanted me to.
“What... where’s the uniform I’m supposed to try on?” I asked, my voice too soft. I cleared my throat and tried again, firmer. He smirked. “You gotta earn it, kid.” I didn’t answer. My feet felt glued to the floor.