The big guy put his hand on your shoulder and looks around to see if anyone is around. He leans in squeezing your shoulders and pulling you into the house. His rough day's growth of beard brushes your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "But I've got a plan to escape..."
As the door swings shut behind you, you start to notice the guy's scent. He smells like a high school locker room. You wriggle up your nose, and suddenly his fist connects with your jaw.
When you come to, you're naked, and jock-man is wearing your delivery uniform. He's got your baseball cap pulled down over his forehead, and he's holding a magic marker. He plants his knee on your chest grabs your hair and begins to write on your forehead, "PROPERTY OF K. O'TOOLE." The clock is chiming me 3:30, and gets off you picking up your clipboard and heading toward the door. You have to stop him. You run after him and he kicks you in the nuts. He's out the door as you writhe on the floor in pain. You hear another door opening, and a young man's voice says, "It'll be good to step back into my jockstrap. Now where is that thing?"
Your body begins to quiver, you struggle to your knees, then you feel suddenly lighter and feel yourself falling gently to the floor.
"Ah, there you are!" Kevin exclaims shucking off the rented tuxedo he'd worn to the wedding, and stepping into you. "I don't feel dressed except when I am wearing my Coach Allen, hehe." He pats the pouch grinding your face into his crotch.