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. 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 free-balling it anymore as things began to develop in his crotch. Today he had scheduled an appointment with a fitting specialist at the 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 a 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 were folding merchandise and chatting.
"Hi I'm here for a bro fitting at 5:00," 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 hoodie and was wearing a tight black shirt over her black yoga pants. The nametag 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, 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 just 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 hands 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."
