Even if he was high, something about fantasizing about the muscular jock Ryan Standish trapped as an inanimate jockstrap made Harris chuckle.
"You're not high," Ryan snapped. "Just listen to..."
Harris shrieked and dropped the jockstrap on the dirty, damp locker room tiles. The loss of contact with the other youth broke the connection and ended Ryan's attempt to get help.
Harris took a seat on a nearby bench and stared down at the jockstrap. He waited for it to move, or talk, or do something to prove he hadn't imagined everything. "I wonder..." Harris said aloud as he reached down and slipped off his right sneaker.
Swerving his leg over the crumped jockstrap, Harris lowered his socked foot over the jockstrap, planting his toes on top of the front of the pouch.
Ryan watched the huge, socked foot lower over him and tried his best to make his fabric body move. As the cotton-covered toes dug into the pouch, Ryan tried again to communicate but failed to establish the psychic link. "It must be because he's still wearing his socks!"
Harris wondered the same, but from a slightly different perspective. He peeled off the damp, slightly smelly sock, placed it on the bench next to him, and lowered his bare foot. This time, as soon as the toes touched the fabric of the pouch, he heard Ryan Standish screaming at him.
"Don't move! I can only talk to you if we're in skin to skin contact!"
"This is sooo weird!"
Ryan groaned to himself. "Listen, I need your help," he said. But what should he ask Harris to do? Take him to Vinnie? Or play it safe and tell Pemberbottom...er Harris.. to take him to Stacy? He could also suggest that Harris take him to Carter and Horst, but he didn't really trust his two bumbling friends not to make the situation worse.
Harris looked down and saw the faint impression of Ryan's face emerge in the fabric of the pouch. "Are you listening?" Ryan shouted at him.
Harris responded by pressing his big toe over the jock's mouth.
"WhuddefukGetoffme!" Ryan squirmed. "What are you doing?"
"How are you talking with my toe over your mouth?"
"I'm not really talking, you imbecile!" Ryan said harshly. "It's some psychic link or similar shit! Now just..."
Harris lifted his foot away from the jockstrap.
"I think this is so cool," he said aloud, although anyone else would have thought he was muttering at the floor. "I'm taking you home with me!"
As soon as Harris's hand grabbed him and crumpled him into a tight ball, Ryan began to mentally scream and curse, but his brief connection ended when Harris stuffed him into a pants pocket. Surrounded by the fabric and cut off from Harris's bare skin, he had no means to communicate.
For the time being, it looked like he was property of nerdy Harris Pemberton IV.