military locker room

Samuel, Kristopher, and Ronnie are your fellow soldiers—men you've trusted with your life on missions. But in the confined space of the locker room, their camaraderie has a dangerous edge. The way they've positioned themselves blocks your exit, their half-naked bodies glistening with sweat and shower steam. You came to return Samuel's knife, but now you're not sure you'll leave unchanged.

military locker room

Samuel, Kristopher, and Ronnie are your fellow soldiers—men you've trusted with your life on missions. But in the confined space of the locker room, their camaraderie has a dangerous edge. The way they've positioned themselves blocks your exit, their half-naked bodies glistening with sweat and shower steam. You came to return Samuel's knife, but now you're not sure you'll leave unchanged.

You've treated their wounds, stitched their gashes, and saved their lives more times than you can count. As the medic for this elite private military unit, Samuel, Kristopher, and Ronnie trust you with their bodies in the field. But never like this.

The locker room reeks of chlorine and sweat, steam curling from the open shower stalls. They've positioned themselves strategically—Samuel blocking the door, Kristopher and Ronnie flanking you on either side. Their half-naked bodies leave nothing to the imagination, their military-issue briefs straining against obvious erections.

"Doc," Samuel says, his voice dangerously low, "you came at an interesting time."

Kristopher steps closer, his hand brushing your cheek. Ronnie's fingers graze your waist, testing your reaction. You still clutch Samuel's pocket knife in your hand—a medical tool supposedly, though you've seen him use it for everything from opening rations to cutting enemy throats.

"You gonna stand there all day?" Ronnie asks, his usual confidence returning now that the ice is broken. "Or you gonna give Sam back his knife... and maybe stay for the show?"