Basement Drop (SPH)

I wasn't trying to be weird. I just didn't want to walk all the way back up three floors in wet underwear. It was past midnight, the laundry room was empty, and the basement hallway lights had already dimmed into that flickering half-dead buzz that always made the whole floor feel abandoned. I figured I'd do it fast: grab the warm stuff from the dryer, toss my wet boxers in the basket, and pull on a clean pair right there in the corner.

I had the door propped open with a bottle of detergent. No one ever came down this late.

I peeled the boxers down, felt the damp waistband flop against my ankle, and kicked them off. The air was cold against my thighs. My dick hung small and soft, no mystery there -- just cold, just normal. I bent to grab my folded pile off the machine, foot already lifting to step into the fresh pair.

Then the door creaked.

Not a lot. Not even all the way open. Just enough to let voices in.

-- Wait, did he say third floor or second?

-- Dunno. You said they were clean already, right?

I froze. Completely, instantly froze.

Two steps later, they were in the room.

I didn't even move my head. I just stood there -- fully naked, one sock on, foot half-lifted, holding a pair of clean briefs in my right hand like a fucking criminal caught mid-act. I could hear one of them stop walking. The second followed, slower.

-- ... oh.

My heart dropped like a shot animal.

-- Shit, sorry, I--

-- Are you naked right now?

The voice was low. Calm. Measured like a math teacher correcting a wrong answer.

I turned, instinctively covering myself with the balled-up briefs. It was too late. Way too late. One of them tilted her head. The other blinked slowly, then looked straight down -- not subtly.

-- Holy shit, he really is.

-- Is this... like, your thing? Doing laundry with your dick out?

-- No, no, I thought-- I didn't know anyone was--

-- Man. I've seen bigger panic buttons.

I wanted to disappear. I mean that literally. Just blink out of this plane of existence and leave a pair of socks on the tile where I used to be.

The girl with short black hair -- hoodie off one shoulder, track pants tucked into fuzzy slides -- squinted slightly. She wasn't smiling. Just looking. Studying. Her face didn't even twitch when she said it.

-- Are you hard right now?

-- What? No--

-- Then... damn. Okay.

The second girl -- taller, curly brown hair tied up in a messy loop -- laughed. Lightly. Not cruel. Just genuinely amused, like she'd found a bug doing something human.

-- It's like, inverted. Like your dick's hiding from the cold inside itself.

I stood there, still holding the briefs. My arms were shaking now. Not much, just enough that I could feel my own heartbeat in my fingertips.

-- Sorry, I was just grabbing clothes-- I didn't think--

-- That we existed?

-- That anyone would come--

-- You really didn't think this through, huh.

She stepped forward, opened one of the washing machines, and casually dropped in a pillowcase like this was just any other Tuesday.

-- Should we leave you to it? Or like...

-- No, let him finish. I wanna see how this ends.

The second girl leaned on the edge of the dryer, chin in her hand, elbow on the steel.

-- He looks like he's buffering.

I tried to step back, but I slipped a little on the tile -- the wet sock on my left foot caught just enough to make my body jerk, and in that split-second, the briefs dropped from my hand. I instinctively reached down.

That was the moment.

They saw everything. Fully. Up close. No coverage, no distraction, no denial.

I heard a short, sharp inhale.

Then a low whistle.

And silence.

Just me, bent at the waist, fully exposed, both girls staring. No one laughing now. Not yet. That was worse.

I didn't stand back up right away. I didn't move at all. My hand was still frozen mid-reach toward the fallen briefs, spine bent, ass out, balls swinging low between my thighs like they hadn't gotten the memo that this was a life-ending moment. I could feel them looking -- not with shock anymore, but with something colder. Calculation. Observation.

The brunette, still propped casually against the dryer, tilted her head again. Her lips curled slowly into something close to a smirk.

-- You dropped it.

-- Yeah. No shit.

Her voice wasn't mean. It was quiet. Patient. Like she had all the time in the world to let me stand there and figure out how much worse this could get.

The girl with the black hoodie -- Rina, I remembered now. Same floor, Political Theory. I'd never spoken to her. She'd never looked at me. Until now.

She walked one step closer. No rush. No sound from her shoes.

-- Can I ask a serious question?

I didn't answer. My face was still angled down, staring at the floor like I could fall through it if I focused hard enough.

-- That's really... all of it? Like, there's nothing more coming?

I clenched my jaw. My ears burned. My shoulders tensed.

-- It's not... I mean, I'm not--

-- No, yeah, no one's hard here. We got that part.

Laughter. The other girl -- Lex, I think? -- chuckled into her palm.

-- Shit. I didn't even think dicks could shrink like that. It's like it's running away from the light.

-- I feel like if I blinked I'd miss it.

-- Bro, he's got negative cock.

I stood up too fast, my back cracking as I yanked the briefs from the floor and tried to fumble them on one-handed, still covering myself with the other. The elastic rolled, stuck on my thigh.

-- Please just-- don't. Can you not... I didn't mean--

-- Hey, chill. We're not mad. You're the one that flashed us.

-- I didn't--

-- You did. And it was brave. I respect that.

Lex was smiling now, watching me struggle to pull the briefs up over skin that felt like it was shrinking out of embarrassment. The waistband finally snapped in place, but it was too late. Way too late. They'd seen it. All of it.

Rina sat down on the edge of the laundry cart, her legs crossed at the ankle, fingers tapping idly against the metal rail.

-- You ever heard of body neutrality?

I blinked at her.

-- Like... not judging yourself, not loving or hating, just... accepting.

-- I guess.

-- This would be a great moment to try that.

Lex grinned.

-- Or radical acceptance. As in, radically accepting that your dick is like, baby carrot-tier.

Rina didn't laugh. She just nodded once, then added:

-- You know what's weird?

-- What.

-- It didn't even move when we came in. Like, not a twitch. Nothing. Flatline.

-- Maybe it's dead.

-- No, he's alive. Look at his face. That's the look of someone in spiritual freefall.

My throat tightened. My eyes stung. I wasn't going to cry -- not for this. But something inside me cracked a little.

I wasn't even hard. Not close. But the briefs were light gray, and there was already a dark, slow-growing spot forming at the front. Just a little sheen. Just a little... leak.

Lex saw it first. Her eyes widened.

-- Oh my god. No. No way.

She pointed.

-- Rina. Look.

Rina leaned forward, squinting slightly. Then sat back.

-- Huh. That's new.

I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

Rina stared at me -- not smiling. Not angry. Just... tired.

-- You're embarrassed, right?

I nodded.

-- And you're turned on.

Silence. My lip twitched.

-- I--

-- It's okay. We get it.

Lex:

-- I really didn't want to know this much about your dick today, man. But thanks for the content.

I turned away. Slowly. Quietly. I didn't try to explain. I didn't apologize. I just walked toward the door -- still barefoot, briefs sticking damp against my thighs, shirt crumpled under my arm like a sad little towel.

I heard them behind me as I stepped into the hallway.

-- What should we call him?

-- Something gentle. Like... Sprout.

-- Nah. Thumb.

-- No. Better.

-- Mistake.

The door shut behind me before I could hear if they laughed.

The hallway felt colder than the laundry room. Harder, too -- like the walls had turned against me. I kept my head down, one hand clutching the damp bundle of shirt, the other twitching with leftover adrenaline. My feet slapped bare on the concrete floor, and every step echoed like a reminder.

Behind the door: two girls. Inside: the image of me, half-crouched, exposed, shrinking. And now... leaking. They'd seen everything. More than everything. They'd seen what it did to me. And what I couldn't stop from happening.

Turned on from shame. That's what it was. I didn't know I had it in me. I didn't want it. But my body betrayed me.

I made it halfway down the hall before I heard the door creak open behind me.

-- Hey.

I stopped walking. Didn't turn. My pulse thudded in my ears.

Rina's voice -- calm, even -- cut through the hallway like a light switch being flipped.

-- We're not gonna follow you. Don't worry.

She paused.

-- I just wanted to say something.

I turned slightly. Just enough to see her standing there in the doorway, arms folded. The flickering overhead light above her made her hair look darker. Her face unreadable.

Lex wasn't in sight. Just her.

-- You don't have to be ashamed.

-- I--

-- But you are. I get it.

I stayed quiet.

-- You're not weird for getting hard. You're not broken. You're just... really small.

Her tone was matter-of-fact. Neutral. No edge. No venom. That made it worse.

-- And sometimes that's enough to make people never forget you. Not in a good way.

I blinked. My throat tightened again.

-- But also... you didn't run. You stood there. You felt it. That's rare.

She paused again. Looked down. Then back up.

-- Anyway. I saved your dignity. I didn't let Lex take a video.

Beat. Then, before I could say anything:

-- I did take a photo, though. Just one.

My chest clenched. I stepped back without meaning to.

She held up her phone slightly, then lowered it.

-- Don't worry. I won't send it anywhere. I don't need to.

She turned to leave, then added over her shoulder:

-- Honestly... I kind of admire you. I mean, if my clit was that small, I'd have stayed upstairs.

She walked away without another word. The door swung shut behind her.

I stood there, barefoot, boner fading slowly under wet fabric, dick shriveled and sticky, with nothing left to defend. Not from them. Not from myself.

And for the first time all night, I let myself whisper it. Just barely.

-- I think I liked it.

No one heard. But it echoed anyway.

the crackle of air

(Written and edited by AlexisVriting)