Date: Sun, 05 Jan 2003 11:54:01 -0000
From: Gadfly <cdngadfly@usa.net>
Subject: Speedo Laundry Ch.1

NOTE: Comments are appreciated to cdngadfly@usa.net or ICQ#32364537.

Speedo Laundry: 1. Opening Gambit

"You're a bit of a wimp as an exhibitionist."

His roommate's comment caught Andy by surprise. As he struggled to
understand, he started to blush and squeezed out an articulate "Huh?"

Greg smiled. It was not a friendly smile, more like that of a cat toying
with his prey. Greg knew he had his roommate on the run. Greg loved to
play games, particularly ones where he could manoeuvre his opponents to
defeat, the more humiliating the better.

Andy was confused. He knew that Greg could be nasty, but he'd not been
on Greg's firing line before. He continued to blush, further embarrassed
that his speedo offered little camouflage for the spreading pinkness. As
a blonde, it was hard to disguise. "What do you mean, 'exhibitionist'?"

Flipping a pencil around in his fingers, Greg looked his roommate up and
down, dragging out the silence to accentuate his control. Waiting until
it looked like Andy was about to speak again, he responded, "I thought
you were supposed to be smart. Look at yourself and figure it out."

Andy was indeed quite clever. His academic scholarship was proof enough
of that. But, he was not as quick as Greg. He fell further into Greg's
trap by opening his closet to have a look in the mirror on the door. He
looked back at Greg and asked, genuinely puzzled, "what do you mean? I'm
off to do my laundry, same as I have all year."

"Exactly." Greg was having fun. He'd hooked Andy and was now going to
play him for a while. "You're not on the way to the pool, despite how
you're dressed. Or, should I say, undressed?"

Still at sea, Andy protested, "but, all my clothes are dirty. Nobody's
complained, have they?"

"You don't see anyone else romping around almost naked when they do
laundry, do you?"

Missing for the moment that Greg had not answered his question, Andy
shook his head.

Waiting again for effect, Greg continued, "no. Nobody has complained to
me. But, why would they? What you wear is your business. Or, should I
say, not wear?"

"Then why did you call me an exhibitionist?"

"What would you call someone who parades around like you do?"

Andy was lost for words. He had never thought that there was anything
odd about wearing his speedo to do laundry. In fact, he thought it was a
good way to make sure he got all his clothes cleaned with the minimum of
fuss and bother. Labelling it was something he'd never considered.

"Well?" Greg looked at him expectantly, reinforcing his control over the
agenda of the discussion.

Andy felt like he was getting the third degree. Although he had no
desire to play Greg's mind games, he was unsure how to get out of this.
He temporised, "well, what?"

Greg sensed that Andy was about to slip away. "What would you call
someone who is conspicuously underdressed in public?" Greg asked this
slowly, as if he were addressing a small child.

Andy now felt trapped. Another guy might have told Greg to take his
silly mind game and stuff it, but Andy was too polite. He had no dark
streak, which is why he was well liked. Not able to think of any more
appropriate response, he gave in, "an exhibitionist, I guess."
Embarrassed by his admission, he turned his back and continued to gather
his clothing.

"So, you admit you're an exhibitionist."

"Whatever." Andy did not turn around, figuring that his best bet was to
ease his way out. Maybe Greg would drop this. He wasn't such a bad
roommate.

Greg wasn't going to drop it, though. He knew that if he let it go he'd
not get another chance. Giving Andy time to think would not work in
Greg's favour. To win, he'd have to force Andy to keep playing right
now. "Strange that you're not very good at it. You're such a winner at
everything else."

Andy stiffened and slowly turned. Greg really had him confused now. He'd
given him a compliment, which surprised him. Greg rarely praised anyone.
Andy had always found him arrogant, but let it pass, as Greg was, like
himself, a top performer. Not sure what to say, he tried to get Greg to
explain, "winner?"

"Don't put yourself down! You're one of the hottest freshmen on campus."
Greg let the ambiguity settle for a few seconds. "You've got an
impressive scholarship; they don't give those out to slouches. I'll bet
you were top at your high school. Likely captain of the swim team and on
the honour roll."

Andy blushed again. He was indeed captain of his school's swim team. He
was also not only on the honour roll, but was also student council
president. Unlike Greg, he'd not clawed these honours out for himself.
They'd been thrust on him, and he'd gone along for the ride. He'd felt a
little guilty about how popular he was, but it was such a good thing
that his protests had been only token. That had only made him all the
more charming to his peers.

"Yeah, I've been very lucky."

"Phooey. Luck had nothing to do with it. You're a champion in most
things. Too bad you can't control your hormones." Greg chose that moment
to turn his back on Andy, pretending to look at some papers on his desk.
Greg gambled that Andy couldn't let that one slide. He figured it was a
safe gambit, banking on his experience coercing others at more
conventional games: poker, bridge, chess, and the like.

"Huh?" Andy was intrigued. This was the first time he'd got any sense
that Greg had any respect for him. At the same time, it seemed Greg had
a handle on a weakness and might be willing to help him overcome it. He
had to find out what was on Greg's mind.

Greg was pleased at Andy's grunt. But, it was not the time to respond.
He had to make Andy want to play. This was a key moment. If Andy walked
away, the game was over.

Andy had to know. He wasn't a perfectionist, but wanted to know why Greg
thought he was flawed. "Come on, Greg. What do you mean?"

Without looking up, Greg countered, "mean about what?" He then spun
around and put Andy under the spotlight of his intense gaze.

Andy was caught. There was no escape now. "You've called me a wimp, an
exhibitionist and said my hormones are out of control. Stop talking in
riddles."

"You've already admitted you're an exhibitionist. If you really want to
know, sit down and we'll talk."

Andy opened his mouth, about to complain that he'd been cornered into
calling himself an exhibitionist, though better of it and bent over to
shift some of the piled clothes on his bed. He adjusted his suit before
sitting down.

"There, you've done it again."

"Done what?"

"Flashed your butt at me and played with that scrap of cloth you call a
bathing suit. You're always doing that."

Andy was stunned. He'd never thought that adjusting his suit would be
taken as provocative or as a sexual come-on. Since moving into the dorm,
he'd curbed his preference for being completely naked, as he'd sensed
that it was not the norm. As an only child, he'd always had his own room
before and his parents had let him have lots of privacy. Dorm life was a
new thing for him, and after noticing that Greg wore pyjamas to bed on
the first night, he'd started sleeping in his underwear.

"I'll bet you wear that suit because it makes you feel sexy."

Greg had nailed him again. Yes, he wore the suit for practical reasons,
but he'd always liked the feel of it. In fact, when he first started
wearing speedos, he jacked off a lot because of how they made him feel.
He was more used to it now, after all this time, but it still felt good.
He could not deny that he liked how they fit.

"And I'll bet you spank the monkey in the shower after you'd had it on
for a while."

Andy cringed. How did Greg know that? Of course, he masturbated almost
every time he showered. It was the only place he seemed to have any real
privacy here. And he did have a shower just before collecting his clean
laundry - it seemed tidy to have everything cleaned up at once: clothes,
mind, and body.

"What's sad is the way you play with yourself before then. All that
foreplay in front of everyone. You really are such a tease."

"Play with myself? Tease?"

"Don't play the innocent. You can't keep your hands off that suit. And
you like others to watch you preen. Why do you think you're so popular?
You're quite a show."

Andy was reeling under the weight of this observation. Adjusting speedos
was inevitable. They got out of position so often. All swimmers did it.
He'd not really seen himself as a sex object, thinking that his swimming
impressed people. Surely people liked him for his personality, not
because they lusted after him. "Have you ever worn speedos? They tend to
shift."

"Nope. I'm not the exhibitionist. You are."

"Hey, I'm a swimmer. That's what we wear."

"Swimmer? Maybe you used to be, but you haven't tried out for the team
here, have you? If you were serious about it, you'd be on the team,
wouldn't you?"

Andy had thought about trying out for the team, but had decided it took
too much time to swim competitively. He didn't want to join and then
find he didn't have enough time for his studies or to savour the rest of
what university had to offer. Joining and then quitting was no good, so
he'd figured on sitting this season out while he got his bearings.

"I still swim twice a week. I can join the team later, if I..."

Greg cut him off, "but you're not going swimming right now, are you?"

"No."

"I'll bet you don't swim more because there's not as much of an audience
as you get here in the dorm. Let me guess, you didn't do your laundry in
speedos before you got here. Did you?"

Andy was getting very uncomfortable. His speedos were riding up again,
but he was hesitant to fix them. Feeling very self-conscious, he
replied, "my mom did the laundry. It's the first time I've had to."

Greg chuckled, "are you saying you wore your swimsuit when your mom did
the laundry?"

"Um, no. She usually did it while I was at school." Andy figured he'd
better wear more clothing while he did the laundry and started fishing
through the pile beside him.

Greg ignored Andy's fidgeting. "And now you wait until after dinner so
you can flash the whole dorm."

Andy stood, holding a pair of jeans. He turned his back to Greg, and
started to pull them on.

"Showing a bit more cheek than usual, I see. No need to get dressed on
my account. Besides, you'll disappoint your admirers."

Andy's suit had ridden into his crack whilst sitting. He stopped with
his jeans around one ankle, and tugged at the back of the suit. It
seemed there was no escape from this torment. He sat down again and
buried his head in his hands.

"Hey, lighten up. Nothing wrong with a little titillation. You asked, so
I was trying to help you out."

Andy looked up. "I don't know what to say. From what you've been saying,
I've been making a fool of myself. You make me sound like I'm gay and
horny all the time."

"Hang on. I never said you were a fool. Nor is there anything wrong with
being gay or horny. By the way, are you gay? I've never seen you with a
girl."

"I had girlfriends in high school. I've not found one here yet."

"You're good at ducking the question. You should consider being a
politician."

"I'm not gay."

"Then why are you flashing all the guys in the dorm? Wouldn't it be more
effective in the girl's dorm? You must miss those steamy locker rooms. I
think you're confused, and you're probably a virgin. Besides, I'm sure
I've seen you checking me out." Greg continued his assault. He recalled
that Andy had slept nude the first night, but that was the only time
he'd seen him naked. Greg was gay, and he really did like to watch Andy
in, and out of, his speedos. By accusing Andy, he'd turned the tables
nicely.

"Why are you so concerned about my sex life?"

"What makes you think I am? You were the one who asked me about it." He
turned back to his desk.

Andy had a lot to absorb. Yes, he was a virgin. Yes, he did miss the
comradeship of team sports. He missed the freedom of being naked at home
and in locker rooms. He had watched Greg a fair bit, but that was to
figure out how to behave -- he'd not wanted to do anything that made him
seem like a weirdo. He liked being popular and didn't want to be
ostracised.

Greg's attack was very unsettling for Andy. He'd thought he'd fit in
quite well. Everyone seemed to like him. Until a few minutes ago, he'd
thought he and Greg got along quite well. Andy was now not so sure that
he'd made the transition from a solitary home life to the dorm all that
well. He wondered if secretly everyone thought he was a buffoon. He
decided to appeal for help, "what should I do? I'm not trying to tease
anyone. I just want to fit in. Please, Greg, help me here."

Greg swivelled around again. "All right. You need to do a laundry. As I
see it, you have three choices: dress normally, wear your swimsuit, or
go naked. If you dress normally now, after all this time, you really are
a wimp, and everyone will suspect as much; you'll have a hard time
explaining why you've changed your routine. Same goes if you change your
pattern and go naked -- you'll have a tough time explaining why. So, you
really have to stay with your routine."

Andy nodded, as he followed Greg's reasoning. He was really beginning to
feel quite grateful to Greg.

"But, if you keep teasing everyone, sooner or later someone else is
likely to point it out, and then you'll be in a pickle. Because, it
likely won't be here in the quiet of our room, but somewhere more
public. You need to stop playing with yourself when you're dressed like
that. I know it'll be tough, so I have an idea - what you need is an
incentive. Are you interested?"

This was sweet music to Andy's ears and Greg was quite pleased with
himself. He had Andy exactly where he wanted him -- hanging on his every
word.

"Yes. Please go on."

"OK. What I have in mind is a bet. Whether you win or lose you come out
all right, I think. I doubt you'll manage to control yourself, so I'm
betting you can't keep your hands off your swimsuit until your laundry
is all done and put away. If I win, you do my laundry as well as yours,
for the rest of the year. And, you'll do it in the nude, so there'll be
no more teasing. That way, you have an explanation as to why you're
running around bare-assed: you've lost a bet. If you win, I do your
laundry for the rest of the year, so your problem doesn't come up again.
What do you think? Is it a deal?"

Greg was an artist. He'd sounded like a compassionate older brother all
through this. Andy thought for a few seconds, smiled, and agreed. Andy
started gathering his laundry.

Greg wasn't finished, though, "one thing, as you've been at this so
long, I doubt you'd even notice if you touch your suit, so I'll have to
keep an eye on you all the time to make sure you don't slip up without
noticing. If I notice you starting to slip up, I'll tap my nose."

"Thanks, Greg. You're a great guy to help me out like this."