The bully’s towering presence was overwhelming, but Matt sensed a crack in his armor, a chance to survive this encounter. He had to choose, and fast, before Jacob’s patience ran out.
“Uh… your sock,” Matt squeaked, his voice barely audible, shaking with a mix of fear and calculation. “I’ll… I’ll go in your sock. Just… don’t tell anyone, Jacob. Please.”
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across his rugged face before his wicked grin returned. “My sock, huh? You’re braver than you look, shrimp. Or maybe you just like it dirty.” He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Matt’s spine. “Alright, let’s see how you handle this.”
He leaned back, his massive hand descending like a crane. Matt flinched but held still as Jacob’s calloused fingers pinched him gently between thumb and forefinger, lifting him off the bench. The world spun, Matt’s stomach lurching as he dangled before Jacob’s chiseled face, those dark brown eyes glinting with amusement and something hotter. “Don’t squirm too much, tiny,” Jacob growled, his breath washing over Matt. “Wouldn’t want to drop you.”
Jacob sat heavily on the bench, the wood creaking under his 250-pound frame. He kicked off one cleat with a thud, revealing a thick, sweat-soaked sock that reeked even from Matt’s distance. The stench hit Matt like a wall as Jacob peeled the sock off, the damp fabric clinging to his foot before flopping onto the bench. The smell was overpowering—musky, acrid, a mix of sweat, dirt, and something uniquely Jacob, like the essence of his raw physicality. Matt gagged, his tiny lungs burning, but Jacob’s grin only widened.
“Welcome to your new home,” Jacob said, dangling Matt over the sock’s open end. The interior was a dark, moist cavern, the fibers matted with sweat and grime from hours of practice. “Hope you like it cozy.” With a flick of his wrist, he dropped Matt inside. Matt tumbled, landing on the damp, spongy surface with a squelch. The smell was suffocating, the air thick and humid, every breath coating his throat with Jacob’s musk. The walls of the sock pressed in, sticky and warm, as Jacob’s fingers shoved him deeper, toward the toe section.
“Stay put, shrimp,” Jacob rumbled, his voice muffled through the fabric. “You’re mine now.” He tugged the sock back onto his massive foot, the motion sending Matt sliding until he was wedged beneath the arch, pressed against the calloused, sweaty skin. The pressure was intense but not crushing, Jacob’s foot flexing slightly to keep Matt secure. Each movement sent a wave of heat and stench over Matt, his tiny body sinking into the damp fibers. He clung to the sock’s weave, heart racing, as Jacob stood and started walking.
The journey to Jacob’s dorm was a sensory assault. Each step rocked Matt’s world, Jacob’s foot pressing him deeper into the sock’s musky embrace. The rhythm of his stride—slow, deliberate, powerful—sent tremors through Matt, the heat of Jacob’s sole radiating into his tiny frame. The sock’s stink was inescapable, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Matt heard muffled sounds outside—teammates’ shouts fading, campus chatter, the creak of a dorm building door. Jacob didn’t speak, but his occasional low chuckle vibrated through his foot, as if he enjoyed knowing Matt was trapped.
Finally, the motion stopped. Matt felt Jacob sit, the pressure easing slightly as his foot rested flat. Light flooded in as Jacob peeled off the sock, the sudden rush of cooler air a shock to Matt’s senses. He tumbled out, disoriented, as Jacob’s fingers plucked him free and set him on a wooden desk. Matt coughed, his tiny body slick with sweat—not just his own, but Jacob’s, the musk clinging to his skin. He blinked, struggling to regain his bearings, the world spinning as he took in his surroundings.
Jacob’s dorm was a spartan single room—a bed, a desk, a chair, and a pile of gym gear in the corner. The air was chilly, a stark contrast to the sock’s suffocating heat. Jacob slouched in his chair, his massive frame filling the space, his practice jersey clinging to his sweat-slicked muscles. Matt looked up, his gaze tracing Jacob’s towering form—broad shoulders, thick arms, the faint sheen of perspiration on his skin. Jacob’s brown eyes locked onto him, tired but gleaming with a mix of exhaustion and mischief.
Then, as if sensing Matt’s stare, Jacob stretched, raising his arms in a slow, deliberate flex. His biceps bulged, and his sweaty armpits flashed, the dark hair matted with moisture, releasing a fresh wave of his musky scent. His lips curled into a teasing smirk, his voice low and taunting. “Like what you see, tiny? Bet you’re rethinking that sock now.” He leaned forward, his armpit still exposed, the smell wafting toward Matt. “Could’ve been up close and personal with this instead.”
Matt’s cheeks burned, his tiny body tingling with a confusing mix of fear, awe, and something hotter. He couldn’t deny Jacob’s raw magnetism, even if it scared him. Jacob’s teasing felt like a game, but his tired eyes betrayed the long practice he’d endured. He yawned, his massive frame slumping slightly. “Alright, shrimp, we’re done for tonight. I’m hitting the sack. You stay right there on that desk. Try to run, and I’ll punish you.” His voice was stern, but a flicker of something softer—concern?—crossed his face. “Don’t test me, Matt. You won’t like it.”
Matt nodded, too shaken to argue, his tiny body still reeling from the sock’s stench and the intensity of Jacob’s presence. Jacob stood, the chair creaking, and peeled off his underwear with a casual flick, tossing the briefs onto the floor. Matt’s breath caught as Jacob’s naked form loomed briefly—muscular, unapologetic, a giant in every sense—before he climbed into bed, pulling a thin blanket over himself. The room fell silent, save for Jacob’s steady breathing, the faint snores starting within minutes.
Matt sat on the desk, his tiny body shivering in the dorm’s chill. The desk was hard and cold, the wood unforgiving against his naked skin. He glanced at Jacob’s bed, the blanket rising and falling with each breath, the warmth of his massive body practically radiating from across the room. The threat of punishment loomed, but so did the risk of freezing on the desk. Matt’s mind churned—did he dare crawl toward the bed for warmth, risking Jacob’s unpredictable mood? Or did he stay put, safer but exposed, hoping to survive the night and figure out his next move?
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