"Russ Tanner, youse home late!"
"Sorry, Ma, practice ran long," groaned Russell Beauregard Tanner, as he opened the door to his room in his parents' rented double wide trailer. He was sore all over, being the only white boy on the defensive line made him a target in practice. Some of the guys had nicknamed him "Tackle Dummy" on the first day, and it had stuck to the point that some of his team mates actually thought his name was Tackle not Russell.
He stripped out of his sweaty clothing. He had showered at school, but he couldn't afford the bus fare, so he'd bicycled the 14 miles home, as he had every day. Wrapped in a too small towel that he had to span his hand to hold in place, Russ walked the short distance down the hall to the single bathroom, and stepped into the tiny shower. He washed in away the grime and sweat in the five minutes he had before the hot water ran out, then toweled off in the shower, and walked back to his room.
He closed the door and tossed his towel on his narrow bed. He stretched and walked over to his disgarded rolled up dirty yellow jockstrap on the floor next to his jeans. As he bent to pick it up, he saw the new white jockstrap sitting on his chair. He dropped the dirty jockstrap, and walked over to the new strap. He picked it up, and smiled. He hadn't ever had a new jockstrap before. Until his brothers had joined the army, he hadn't had his own room before either. He knew it was expensive, and he knew that his folks didn't want him to make a fuss. He paused wondering whether Ma or Gramps had sprung for the ten bucks for the jockstrap. His brothers had used their signing bonus to pay for his letterman's jacket. His old jockstrap had the name Tanner printed on it in black marker with two big black spots at the beginning where Brad's name had originally been written with Travis' name before it. There had been no room to add Russell or Russ, but he'd managed to fit an "R". That had earned him the ridicule for being unable to spell his own name--indicating the cross outs. He decided explaining that he was wearing a twice handed down jockstrap was worse. Carefully, Russ laid Jeff out on his tiny "Good Will" desk, and took a permanent black marker and wrote on Jeff's waistband "Property of Russell B. Tanner."
Then Russ blew on the ink to dry it. Jeff quivered. It was the weirdest sensation. He hadn't expected to feel, smell and taste since becoming a jockstrap. Even though he no longer had eyes, he had somehow expected to be able to see. The 19 year old high school student wasn't quite what he'd expected, and he screamed silently as the giant football stud tried him on. His 9 inch soft cock stretched Jeff's pouch considerably, even though he was an extra large. Russ then proceeded to do his homework. About 10pm when his sister came home from working at the McDonald's, he pulled on some shorts and joined the family in eating old burgers and fries. He scarfed down some cold hard McNuggets, znd then went to bed.
In the morning, Russ shucked off the shorts, and pulled on his dirty jeans. He put on his socks, sneakers, shirt and of course he put on his letterman's jacket Dean. Then he got on his bike and pedalled to school.
Jeff woke with his muscles straining. Russ's early morning erection must have measured 13 inches, and salty cum stained his pouch. Russ got up and pissed, and stuck his cock back inside Jeff while he was still dripping. Russ plunged Jeff back into darkness when he stepped into his musky jeans. As he pedalled to school, Jeff began to absorb his sweat. Fourteen miles does work up a decent sweat.
At school, Jeff overheard Russ talking with friends at lunch.
"Tackle, you really oughta wash your shirt. That ketchup stains been there since Monday," said a tenor voice.
"Now, Zack, youse know I's only got three shirts, an'one of those is for Sunday. If coach hadn'a kept me late on Monday, I'd have gotten home in time for the laundromat. Now, I'm stuck with this here stained shirt for two weeks, cause Ma only does laundry every other Monday."
It wasn't until Football Practice that Jeff became alarmed. He'd expected Russ to take him off when he changed into his pads and uniform. Instead Jeff felt his pouch opening and a plastic banana cup slipping in between his cotton layers. After practice, Jeff air dried for a couple minutes while Russ hosed and toweled off. Then he was back around the athlete's crotch, and the ripe jeans were pulled over him. Russell bicycled the 14 miles home, and Jeff cried, or tried to--he was unsure whether he actually produced tears or if those were just rivulets of Russ's sweat smearing across Jeff. The Chronivac had contained a warning note about clothing objects not returning to their original form if they were being worn when the timer ran out. Jeff couldn't remember if he'd selected as the default that the term of the original transformation would automatically renew or if he'd chosen that reversion would occur as soon as the article of clothing was removed after the original time elapsed.