When Carl pulled into his driveway, he was excited. He couldn't wait
to unpack his bags of flattened jocks. He went around to open the
trunk and he balked. The bags looked practically empty.
"What the f-?" he muttered opening the closest bag. Inside were a
bunch of folded up washcloths. He reached in and pulled one out. It
was Rod, but while he was still flat, he now was only 2-3 inches wide.
"Dang, they all shrunk! I guess I shouldn't have washed them after
all," moaned Karl.
He tugged on Rod's flat arms, and watched him stretch.
"Whoa, at least it elasticized you, Roddy. Hm, small elasticized bits
of fabric - oh, damn. Every kid in school will want one. A genuine
jock-strap!" laughed Karl.
He grabbed the two partially filled bags, and headed for his mother's
sewing machine. He figured every kid in school who had PE and had to
wear a jockstrap would give all they could to buy a real jock to strap
to their junk. He'd have three or four ready by sunset, and then he
could test market them with some of his buddies who were going to hook
for World of Warcraft later...
Rod screamed mentally as the sharp steel needle began to stitch his
limbs - I mean, straps - together.