Take One for the Team (ft. FriskeCrisps)
He had to find them. He had made the excuse of going to the drinking fountain, but that was far from the truth. He had to find them, to see them, to touch them. The thought made his heart race, but he knew his quest to be the most important thing in the world right now.
Crisp hadn't known how much the risk of his expedition was until earlier that week, during a free period. He was sitting in one of the study rooms, doing his pre-calc homework. It was a step up from what he had in middle school, but the high school wasn't exactly beating him senseless. The social environment left him mostly friendless, especially without acquaintances like Johnathan Greenberg, who had coincidentally walked through the door. Johnathan was the high school's football captain, a six-foot-wow German Shepherd with an attitude like a demon and a jawline like a butcher's cleaver.
Crisp hadn't paid him much attention; after all, he was probably just coming in to get away from another teacher. But he sat at the table across from Crisp and leaned back, stretching in his chair and sliding his feet up. The smaller black wolf jumped when his shoes clunked on the table, jerking his body in surprise. And there they were.
The sneakers were jet black, but with metallic hexagons in a strange tessellation down the sides and back. The padded sides cushioned the older male's ankles with a dark grey lining, perfectly fitted to his muscular body. The laces were tied in an intricate knot that Crisp had never seen before, blinding white with factory-graded aglets keeping the ends from fraying. And on the bottom, the rubber soles were marked with the same hexagon pattern, but with a dog's skull printed, giving each of the German Shepherd's footprints a distinctive trail of death.
The wolf stared at the shoes in awe, marveling at their mysterious aura. They looked ridiculously comfortable and, despite the difference in height between the two boys, looked to be about his size. Even though his mother had already gotten him a new pair of bright red sneakers for his freshman year, he knew he needed to find them. Crisp cleared his throat. "Where'd, um, where'd you get your shoes?"
Johnathan glanced up from his phone - which the students weren't supposed to have out during study breaks - and stared down his muzzle at Crisp. "The fuck?" he asked, sneering at the boy across from him. He adjusted the sleeves on his sports jacket, the school's lightning bolt insignia emblazoned in blue over each shoulder.
"Your shoes. They're cool, and -"
"I heard what you said."
Crisp looked the dog in the eye. He was staring back with narrowed eyes, a sneer playing around his lips. "What's it to you?" he said. "You're not gonna try and get them, are you? Little fag wants the big boy's shoes, huh?"
Crisp's ears slicked back against his head. "N-No, that's not..."
Johnathan chuckled under his breath, then stood up. "Hey, not everybody can be like this. I understand if you want to try looking like the top dog," he said, circling around the table. The wolf held his breath and stared at the shoes as they appeared around the corner, pressing into the study room carpet. Johnathan leaned over Crisp and opened his mouth, then stopped.
"No way. Dude, are you getting hard on me?"
"I...what?" Crisp closed his book, turning to face the Shepherd. As soon as he moved his legs, he felt a strange pressure against his fly. His eyes wandered downwards until he saw the roundness in the front of his jeans, his pants tenting just enough to give away his embarrassing, if substantial, erection. Crisp froze, his jaw agape, before he whipped his head back up to stare at Johnathan. The dog was smiling strangely at the corners of his mouth, content to observe the wolf beneath him like a bug under a microscope. "I'm not!" Crisp said, grabbing his book and putting it over his pants. "It's, um, just a fold in my jeans. And what are you looking at it for anyway?"
The wolf's comeback gave him a short-lived feeling of victory, as Johnathan just shook his head, the smile growing broader across his face. "Call it gay-dar," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "When you look like me, you can tell when a queer is trying to cover himself up. Isn't that right? What, you wanna make something of it, queer boy? Go on, get up. Put the book away and stand your fuckin' ground."
Crisp's face burned as other students turned around in their desks, eager to see an altercation between Johnathan and yet another nerd. The wolf grabbed his backpack and put it between his calves, stuffing his textbook, notebook and pens inside, leaning over his crotch. The pressure from his hard-on pained him, but not as much as it pained him to hear the whispers that came from over the room.
"What's that kid doing with John?"
"I heard John say that he's hard. You know, HARD."
"From asking about his shoes? What the heck?"
"Don't ask me. What a freak."
Crisp closed his eyes as he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder defiantly, standing on shaky legs. As he stood to face the other boy - who was, as he found out after getting up, a full head taller than him - he heard a muffled giggle, and then a low whistle. He didn't have to look down, and he told himself he shouldn't...
But the wolf's curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced at his pants in horror. Just as he had suspected, he was even harder, with the pressure of his massive erection digging into the soft fabric of his briefs and pushing through his jeans. The tent stood out horribly against the folds of his pants, the round head leaking through and making a wet stain in the front. He stood up straight regardless, staring at his bulge framed between two untied sneakers, as bright red as the inside of his ears.
"Looks like the fag's putting on a show!"
Johnathan's booming voice made the laughter in the room grow and echo in Crisp's ears. All the boys were turned around, pointing at their fellow male's criminal act, his disgrace, his arousal. All eyes locked on his shamefully throbbing cock, but when Crisp looked up, there was something else in the eyes of the older canine. Johnathan was also feeding off of the jeers, but he was staring at the younger wolf, grinning, lips parted like the gap between he shoes as he stood, reaching for Crisp's belt.
He didn't remember running out of the room, but it was much later that he found himself breathless in the bathroom on the other side of the school, his erection somewhat subsided. He had dropped his pants and held his half-hard penis in his hands, shocked at the stickiness that left a clear trail from his tip to his underwear.
And here he was now - running away from his teacher, getting out of class, slipping down into the basement where rubber squeaked against taped-up maple beams, holding his breath as he came to the wide, whitewashed doors. Once he caught up with his own brain, he felt almost giddy. This was a kind of adventure, perhaps! A treasure quest with a private art display at the end, all for him; it was too good to be true.
Crisp felt ashamed when he found himself tracking the wolf, but jocks like Johnathan weren't the most difficult to understand. He didn't mean to belittle the older boy, but his schedule, which revolved around mostly sports and gym classes, made him easily traceable, stalk-able, even. Crisp pressed against the lightning bolt on the door, darting inside as fast as it could open for him, a feverish paw pressed against his forehead. This was probably the most illegal thing he had done. Good God. Was this illegal? Crisp didn't know how much a pair of expensive sneakers was protected under high school jurisdiction, but he had a feeling that if he got caught, he wouldn't get a chance to find out. Jocks were territorial, ferocious. They frightened the fresh teenager. They inspired him.
Rows of white and navy lockers passed him by as he paced down the silent corridor. For the moment, Crisp enjoyed the padding of his sneakers against the porous tiles. It was a rhythm that he felt like dancing to, but only for a moment. He didn't know what eyes were watching him, even though the locker room appeared to be surprisingly empty. The wolf furrowed his brow as he managed to find his way to the alphabetized row where the infamous Johnathan Greenberg marked his territory. He turned down the aisle, but stopped dead in his tracks.
"That's...not good."
He cursed himself for saying it, but what else could he expect from the sight of Johnathan's famed sneakers sitting out on the bench, away from his locker - which was already closed and secured - where anyone could take them? Crisp took a deep breath as he stepped forward, scooting himself down onto the bench and straddling the warm metal.
As long as they were within his grasp, Crisp needed to handle them, at least once, to study them and admire the craftsmanship in the shoes' making. There was no name brand. There was not a trace of a snipped tag or slice in the fabric. With trembling fingers, the freshman lifted the lightweight sneaker up and cradled it with heartfelt fascination. Turning it over, he studied the canine silhouette on the bottom, shuddering as he noticed, for the first time, the pair of red eyes that seemed to stare from embedded plastic in the face. As he turned it back over, Crisp raised his eyebrows at the embroidery - again in white against the blackness of the fabric - on the underside of the tongue: J.L.G.
"It stands for 'Levi," said the voice behind him. Crisp was too frightened to turn around, even though there was no surprise lurking in his blind spot. Whether it was more or less frightening that he knew Johnathan's voice by heart - well, that he could never come to understand.
"John, I didn't mean - I mean, I didn't want to -"
"Didn't want to what?"
Crisp couldn't answer.
The German Shepherd took a deep breath as he sat down behind the wolf, and the smaller male could feel malice dripping from his smile, glazing his words with poisoned honey. "It's okay. I understand." Somehow, that was more disconcerting than whatever anger Johnathan could have conjured up. "Aren't they a piece of work? I'm afraid there won't be another pair like that made. Ever. So, as you see, I've made them my own, with some help from my mom. Johnathan Levi Greenberg. A mouthful, no?"
The words died trying to squeeze past the wolf's trembling lips. A touch on his shoulder motioned for him to turn his body, and he obeyed like ink under an author's pen, smooth as the fear that circled underneath his flattened ears. Johnathan narrowed his eyes as both of them made contact, his deep browns against the pup's frightened greens. The older of the two was shirtless, wearing bright white athletic shorts and nearly matching knee-length socks, the school's telltale lightning bolt in a striking blue down the sides.
Then, despite all evidence that things couldn't possibly get worse, Johnathan leaned back against the bench and pressed his right footpaw into the wolf's chest. He had a smile on his face that was more than playful; somehow, it was fraternal. "What are you doing?" Crisp whispered, his voice soft in the other dog's masculine haze.
"Put it on." Johnathan flexed his toes in a manner that made the young wolf wholly uncomfortable in ways that he didn't think were physically possible. "Go on. It's loose enough around the edges. Put it on me. You have the right one, don't you?"
"Yeah?"
"Do it."
The humiliating cleanliness of the German Shepherd told Crisp everything he had suspected. Johnathan had been waiting for him, as if he knew that the power of his sneakers would be too much for the likes of the little freshman. Every inch of him was gloating, every muscle that rippled under the white lights, each vertebra that popped as he pressed his back against the bench, the individual toes that teased Crisp as he took the older boy's foot in his own hand and raised the black shoe in the other.
As soon as he slipped the dog's toes into the mouth of his shoe, Crisp started at a chuckle from behind. "Looks like you were right, Johnny. Kid likes his shoes." Crisp turned and caught the withering smirk of a lanky tomcat, uniformed like the dog and tapping his fingers in expectation. "Think he'll pop another boner?" the cat continued. "Maybe he'll cum if you let him tie them."
"Let me? I'm not letting him do anything."
"You're such a friggin' creep."
"Like you're not the one who called the party, Mike?"
Crisp felt his stomach drop. He opened his mouth at the same time the door swung open and laughter filled the room. The entire jock roster filed in around Crisp and Johnathan, dressed in some semblance of sport culture, from polished cleats to reflective, pelt-tight t-shirts with their sports brand of choice ironed into it. Stag, cougar, rhino - all as built as their late adolescence would allow, all as devilish as a flickering flame, and all there to laugh at this poor young wolf with both hands shaking around a black designer shoe.
"I know this geek from pre-calc! Thought he was a fag."
"Hey, is he getting hard again, John?"
"Watch your shoes - he might cum on them! Ha!"
The virility filled his nostrils and made him shudder as he held on tightly to the older boy's sneaker. The laughter trickled down as Crisp finally got Johnathan's footpaw inside, feeling him relax his foot's muscles in the padded fabric. "Good." The German Shepherd sighed as he reached down and twisted his fingers around the laces, completing that intricate knot that Crisp couldn't seem to follow, no matter how fast he darted his eyes. The skill was intriguing, but the experience was short-lived.
"Hey, Crisp - it is Crisp, right? Why don't you stand up for a second?" Johnathan said, electing to put the other sneaker on himself. The young wolf tilted his ears back in submission, standing on shaky legs as he backed away from the bench. Johnathan nodded, and that apparently signaled a fur behind him that he didn't see. Two hands grabbed his shoulders while two more gripped his waistband. Crisp didn't even have time to yelp before his jeans were yanked roughly to his ankles.
The pantsed freshman was showing off in ways he didn't think he ever could. The hardness of his impressive, albeit immature, erection was pushing through the tightness of his red briefs, staining them burgundy at the tip with fresh precum. The two hands behind him squeezed to hold him in place as the jeers erupted from the crowd, complete with laughter and even a smattering of sarcastic applause. Only Johnathan, tying his other shoe in the bench in the middle of it all, was calmly examining the embarrassed wolf from head to toe. The muscular canine held up a hand, politely signaling for silence even as his posse gave a few leftover comments.
"I always knew we knew at least one fag in this school."
"Was he always hard, or do you think it was from when we pantsed him?"
"Christ, he's really about to cum all over!"
"Look at that gay underwear. That's for little boys, dork!"
"I bet he wants us to stare at his cock. I bet he begged John to bring him here."
"Think he'll lick cum from John's shoes? Or will that just make him cum again?"
Apparently, that last comment struck a chord with the jock, and Johnathan smiled as he reached out. A hushed silence fell over the crowd as Johnathan extended his sneaker towards Crisp's soft bulge. It throbbed as the older boy neared, and poor Crisp could feel the warmth sneak towards his groin as it got closer and closer. The whimpering cub didn't even have the chance to protest before his boner was stroked by the tip of the German Shepherd's footwear, eliciting a disgusted groan from the crowd, with another round of snickering.
Crisp threw his head back, the hands on his shoulders digging in jeeringly, holding him in place as his unfortunate, premature orgasm forced its way out his cock and down his tormentor's gym sock. Even though his underwear provided a barrier, Crisp still managed to jettison a stream of pearly cum out of the fabric, a glob of teenage seed from his fuzzy balls. The laughter only grew as he came more and more, dribbling white out the front of his briefs and staining the entire front. The black material of Johnathan's sneakers was now speckled with small dots of wobbling liquid.
The warmth that filled Crisp was exquisitely painful, jabbing into a pressure point in the deepest parts of his brain. The laughter echoed off of the walls and straight into his skull, energy unlike anything he could have felt. It was as if each snide comment and each snide comment was a stroke on his pink little shaft, coaxing out cum with no physical assistance. Even after there was barely anything left dripping from his swollen glans, he was still as hard as a rock, tenting in his stained red briefs for the whole crowd to see.
"Not gonna lie - that's a huge load. Holy shit."
"Think how much he could make if he was actually getting fucked! What a freak!"
"What if coach walked in right now? I think he'd ruin that pup's life."
Crisp whimpered as the hands let go, and he sank to his knees, gripping the bench to keep him from slipping onto the floor. Johnathan had won, and he knew it. The older boy lifted his foot up to the youngster's face, rubbing his cumshot back where it belonged. The panting wolf accepted it, defeated and humiliated, struggling to get to his knees. Even now, though, he loved the caress of Johnathan's sneaker against his fur. It had a warmth of its own, and the clean soles still showed those glowing eyes, staring into the boy's soul. It knew what he wanted. It knew what he had just done. And it was gloating.
"We're not done yet." Johnathan smirked as Crisp jerked his head up in surprise, shrinking back from the taller German Shepherd. He refused to believe his eyes, but the canine before him was standing with a sizable bulge in his pants, unashamed of his masculinity. More hands came from all around, closing in on the wolf's body. Crisp opened his mouth in protest, but his vision was already being filled with the sight of white shorts and the sound of wicked, juvenile laughter.
"Let's teach this little homo a lesson!"
"You better not get any jizz on me, loser."
"What, you wanna tie my shoes next?"
"How is he still hard after that load?"
"Man, John's sneakers have him rock solid."
"I wonder what mommy's gonna say when she washes his cummy undies. Hah!"
Crisp could barely protest as the bodies of laughing boys circled around him, snickering and whooping like the wolf's humiliation was the best thing since sliced bread and blowjobs. He couldn't take it anymore, but that didn't stop them from jostling him as they prepared to deliver whatever terrible verdict came from on high. Johnathan gripped the front of his shorts and opened his mouth when a door slammed behind them. "Shit," the older boy muttered as the unmistakable sound of heavy footfalls came down the path to where the boys were gathering. Crisp whimpered as he recognized the sound; there was only one thing more terrible than being confronted by the senior jocks.
Mister Collins - Coach Cam to the jocks - was admired and feared by every boy in the school district, although he had no real reason to be intimidating; he seemed to be kindly when he wasn't yelling out instructions to his class or telling students off in the halls. His face was stoic, the traditional Border collie black-and-white invaded by the bluish mask around his eyes and the spotted streak on his tail.
As he stalked into the locker room, he crossed his arms across his bare chest, the unmistakable scent of masculinity in the air. Apparently, he had been working out in the student gym during his free time. Crisp was hoping for a teacher to come along, but perhaps Coach Cam wasn't the option he wanted. The dog had an in with the jocks as far as the young wolf knew. The freshman cub shuddered as the Border Collie glanced slowly around the circle, making eye contact with each of his students in turn. Finally, his dark eyes rested upon Crisp, and much to the boy's surprise, his chinstrapped face broke into a smarmy grin, his eyebrows raised and his gaze focused in the boy's lap.
The pup didn't have to look down to see how hard he was. His feet shifted as he tried to balance with his pants around his ankles, woozy and thoroughly embarrassed by this turn of events. Coach Cam straightened up and opened his mouth when a snort of laughter broke out among the surrounding surveyors. The huge collie turned to see who the perpetrator was, but the little bursts of laughter were coming around from every side now. The coach turned back to Crisp, who was staring wide-eyes straight into the adult's face. Why wasn't he stopping this? Why was he just standing there?
His internal questioning was cut short when two paws reached from behind and tugged down the front of the freshman's briefs. That broke the floodgates, and a howl of ferocious laughter broke from the ranks that surrounded the exposed youngster. Crisp's erection bounced from the exposure, and a hot streak of terror ran from his toes straight to his penis. The head's pinkness showed how full his shaft was from the energizing embarrassment, held up by shame and his peer's scornful eyes. Crisp felt his thighs trembling and his groin muscles aching against his will. His bright green eyes opened wide as he curled his toes, unable to keep himself from succumbing to his body's needs.
Somehow, after already cumming once, the wolf braced himself and released another spurt that splattered in a line headed right for the coach's feet. The burning cub clenched his fists and whimpered as the warmth pumped through his cock, feeling the nervous sweat that made his shirt stick to his back and his thighs press together. Johnathan smirked from the sidelines as the jeering crowd pointed at his little member, brazenly displayed for the most intimidating teacher in the school. As he stared up at the coach's face, Crisp could tell that he was trying to keep from laughing himself, his lips curling up in condescension, his chest rising with each suppressed breath as his prize athletes laughed their asses off at the poor canine before them. The snickering turned to scoffs as the wolf wore himself out, the last few drops dribbling down into his stained underpants stretching around his thighs.
"Everyone out."
Coach Cam's booming voice was soft, even in his mock anger, like the sound of a wave crushing a toddler's sand castle. "Hit the showers, guys. Seriously. Out." He pointed to the showers with one eyebrow raised. Even though the students were still energized from humiliating the half-naked freshman, they knew that the collie had power over them like no other teacher could. They shambled out towards the shower area, shoving the trembling Crisp in the shoulder as he wobbled, his sneakers seeming to have lost their grip as his head spun. The German Shepherd who instigated the whole incident clapped him on the back, then leaned over to whisper something into his ear. Coach Cam cleared his throat as a warning. Johnathan drew back and just winked, leaving poor Crisp alone with the adult as the showers started.
Crisp sat down, feeling the blush of embarrassment from his slicked-back ears all the way down to his tucked-in tail. "M-Mister Collins? I didn't mean to...well--"
"Didn't mean to jizz on my floor?" The bigger canine chuckled as the wolf nodded, tugging his underwear back up. "Frankly, kid, I'm not sure what just happened. But I can assure you that Greenberg is going to have a talk in my office when he gets out."
Carefully stepping around the cum puddles, the coach sat down next to Crisp and rested a reassuring paw on his shoulder. The coach tapped his spit-shined boots on the floor. Once the rhythm stopped, he brought the cub close until their feet were touching, massive paws next to the wolf's sneakers and rumpled jeans.
"I'll have to punish the boys later, won't I." Cam sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "I don't have a problem with it, but I get lip from them all day if they're on the sidelines for a single minute. Ain't that the truth?" The adult laughed, and Crisp couldn't help but crack a nervous grin.
Mister Collins cleared his throat and gave a glance towards the showers. "Look, why don't you come into my office? I have a washing machine were we can get your clothes all tidied up, and you can even take a shower if you want to get the stickiness off of you," he said. Crisp glanced up in surprise, and the Border collie nodded candidly. "I need my alone time, you know? Hey, maybe I can even give you a ride home after. I have to get my brother back to the house anyway."
"I mean, if you...if you want," Crisp mumbled, starting to redden up again. Thankfully, his cock was too sore to respond in like kind. Coach Cam nodded and clapped Crisp on the back, standing and heading to his office. The young wolf stood and pulled his pants up, carefully clearing his spooge as he followed after. Perhaps this would be a good day after all...
Story - ©2014-2015 TheOrigamist
Crisp/Commission - © FriskeCrisps (FA/IB). Used with permission.
Cam Collins - © WolfBlade (FA/IB/SO/WSL). Used with permission.