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Kyle inhaled deeply as he took in the site before him. A locker room that seemed to stretch on for miles, with benches and lockers looming over him like century old trees. This sight would be impressive to any micro, but to Kyle it was all the more special. It was the locker room of the Seattle Octane, his hometown soccer team, a team he had supported since he was a kid. It also didn't hurt that Kyle was fairly drunk, drunkenness makes everything seem more exciting!

It had started as a dumb joke really. "Let's hop in the car and go to the city!" The said, never having been to the predominately macro Seattle before without their parents, but Kyle and his friends finally felt like adults, or at least high school graduates. "We don't know how fast this summer is going to pass us by! We need to make everything memorable!" One of Kyle's friends continued as the four of them hopped in the car, armed with excitement, a dad's credit card and fake IDs. They stopped at the first convenience store they saw, a Macro based one, with a small micro section, well maybe small to the thick accented hyena manning the counter, but to Kyle and his friends it was a massive collection of cheap human beer, and a few "micro brewed" Macro made beers. The grouped grabbed an 18 pack of Budweiser along with a 6 pack of "Spotted Menace Pale Ale" a local Macro brew known for it's high alcohol content that only got higher when placed in human sized bottle. The group swaggered up to the counter, all of them still in their Letterman jackets, as if being high school varsity in a small town would impress anyone in this city, macro or micro. The hyena looked down at the four and their impressive beer haul.

"ID?" He said, his voice as thick as his accent. The group handed over their IDs, a mix of bravado and nervousness ebbed through them as the hyena inspected each one as close as he could. Either he wasn't familiar with human IDs or the young hyena was too tired and annoyed to care. He rang them out, swiping the credit card along the micro card reader. Kyle and his friends grinned like they'd just robbed Fort Nox.

"So that hyena was pretty cute eh Kyle?" One of his friends ribbed him. "Think you'd spend the night at his place?" the teasing continued as the four of them downed beer after beer outside the Seattle Octane parking lot, hoping to at least hear the game if they couldn't see it.

"They just had to build our parking lot JUST out of view of the pitch!" another friend lamented. They all nodded in agreement.

"But seriously, would you bang that hyena Kyle?" Kyle couldn't help but roll his eyes, these jokes had been going all for all of senior year, ever since he'd spent the night at the house of one of the few macros in their town, and while Kyle may have had a crush on the arctic fox nothing sexual happened, just intense gaming sessions and gallons of energy drink consumption....and maybe some cuddling. Not that Kyle ever told his friends any of that, he was still trying to live down the time one of them found macro porn on his laptop.

"Game starts in 20!" One said, tossing away another beer can. A smile creeping across his face! "Hey Kyle, you like Macros clearly, I dare you to sneak into the Octane locker room!"

At first Kyle had said no, but his friends kept egging him on, alcohol fueled belligerence and machismo influencing their insistence, and eventually influencing Kyle's complacency in the situation and before he knew it he found himself in the macro parking lot, sneaking into the Stadium. It had been easy enough sneaking in, with the absent ticket takers and guards distracted by their smart-phones, likely assuming their presence alone would deter people trying to sneak in, it also didn't hurt that Kyle would've been easy to miss at ground level, even if they were actually guarding the place. Before Kyle could even consider getting caught he was in the locker room, the rumbles of the pre game show still traveling down the tunnel that connected the locker room to the pitch.

Kyle breathed in the scents and took in the sounds. Not only was this an exciting moment for him as a fan of his team, but as a fan of macros. He couldn't help but get an erection as he thought about the team coming in after a game, pads leaking sweat, their ultra fit bodies. "Shit...." he muttered as he saw he had grown an erection. He'd need to get rid of that before returning to the guys, but first to get proof he sneaked in at all. Kyle scanned the room, bars of deodorant and a couple jersies sat on one of the benches. Too high for Kyle to reach, his eyes lit up however when he saw a pair of cleats by one of the open lockers. "Perfect!" He said to himself as he fished his phone out of his pocket and began the short trek to the cleats. As he approached the musk hit him like a strong bong hit, making his boxers a bit wet. "Fuck..." he muttered to himself, hoping his orgasm didn't leak into the fabric of his jeans, that one would be impossible to explain to the guys. He looked down fearing the worst. "Thank the Gods!" He muttered as his jeans were dry and spotless. Kyle smiled as he posed by the cleat, his phone extended from him as he took a selfie by it "Perfect!" He made sure the angle and lighting were good so everything could be seen, he wanted to use this as proof of this story when he went to Whitetail U after all. The human had a spring in his step as he began to trot off back to the parking lot, that was until he heard a low growl from behind the door. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Clint growled at the assistant manager, a slim otter who barely came up to the black wolf's shoulder "On the bench against Portland? Are you fucking kidding me?" The otter tried to maintain his composure before the larger wolf.

"Look I'm sorry Clint but it's the coach's idea, he thinks you need more time to chill out after that last Red and...."

"And what?"

"Well you haven't exactly been in top form lately..." The otter began, seeing a look of fury in Clint's eyes at the mention of his form, but rather than break yet another jaw Clint just sighed.

"Come on Barry, I know I haven't been perfect but please, if Sig isn't happy by the 30 minute mark I'll request the sub myself! But I NEED to start this game!" The otter nodded and shrugged.

"Look I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises, you know that Clint!"

"I know Barry, I know, just thanks man!" He said as the otter walked off, a few of his team mates coming around the corner. Leading them was Oba, a tall Nigerian cheetah, with long hair braided into something of a dreadlock ponytail. He playfully whapped the wolf on the shoulder.

"I didn't know you'd be this adamant about the Open Cup!" The cheetah teased with a grin as the walked into the locker room.

"I am when it's our rivals!" Clint responded, taking a seat on the bench, undressing himself as he opened his locker, the number 2 jersey staring at him almost mockingly.

"You were born in Texas, Clint!" Oba responded, lacing up his cleats.

"And you were born in Lagos, and yet we both fucking hate Portland, it's our JOB to hate Portland!"

"I think it's a lot more than a job to you!" Oba flung back "I mean most of your bookings come from matches against Portland and Vancouver!" Clint couldn't help but grin.

"Are you criticizing me for doing a good job?" He asked as he pulled off his sneakers, exposing his toeless socks. His teammates made fun of him for them, saying it's cause he couldn't be bothered to trim his claws. In reality Clint was sold them by a snake oil salesman at a Footlocker who promised him they provided better ball control. At the time Clint believed the pitch, he was naive at 17. These days he considered them more of a good luck charm, always wearing them for matches, they just made him feel more confident.

"I'm just saying you're a very enthusiastic player who needs to learn not to elbow people!" Oba responded. Clint curled his toes as he laughed, his worries about starting a distant, alien worry if for but a moment as he grabbed one his lucky cleats.

Upon hearing the growl of the wolf from down the hall Kyle did the first thing he could think of, he dove into the cleat! The smell was a mix of intoxicating and pugnet, this was a cleat that clearly saw many seasons, game in game out, for the full 90. By the time Kyle's drunken mind had rationalized that maybe a shoe wasn't the best place to hide from a soccer team it was too late. The room soon filled with the deafening chatter of 22 voices, all speaking on different topics, all booming through Kyle's head, he held his ears, the smells and the noise making him feel woozy, which mixed with his drunkenness didn't help matters in way of smart ideas, or of escaping. Even if Kyle wanted to risk trying to climb out of the cleat the alcohol had made his arms complacent and weak, barely able to cling to the fabric, let along pull his feet of the ground that was the sole of the cleat. Kyle kept himself from panicking by rationalizing that they were old cleats, most likely just forgotten there. "I just need to wait for the team to leave, I'll get my strength to climb out by then!" He said to himself rather loudly, of course given all the noise in the locker room it went unnoticed.

"Are you criticizing me for doing a good job?" A voice boomed overhead, it made Kyle shiver by how close it sounded, even closer than the hyena at the liquor store.

"I'm just saying you're a very enthusiastic player who needs to learn not to elbow people!" Another voice boomed, slightly further but close enough to cause more tremors in Kyle's ears, his vision blurred a bit as the fluorescent light overhead was blocked out by 4 massive, black, furry toes.

The stadium lights always blinded Clint whenever he exited the tunnel onto his home pitch, he blinked a few times as he started to head for the sidelines, the coach, an older lynx, shook his head and pointed at the center circle, the look in his eyes said all that needed to be said "Don't make me regret this!" Clint jogged to the center circle where Oba was standing, the ball under his foot. The wolf's heart beat as the commentary team nearly sang over the loud speakers.

"Welcome to Macro League Soccer's US Open Cup semi Finals, tonight we have Seattle Octane against Portland Timberwolves. Sure to be an exciting game right Alan?"

"Defiantly Martin, though I'm surprised to see Clint Delway in the starting Eleven."

"As am I Alan, fresh off a red card, and not so fresh off a goal!" The quips made Clint growl a bit, he looked to Oba, the cheetah rolling the ball under his foot. Clint took a deep breath as the ref's whistle blew and he found the ball between his feet.

Kyle had hoped that maybe Clint WOULD be on the bench for this game. He was well known for his...passionate play, especially against rivals, and his form WAS less than ideal at the moment. The human had been lucky enough to land just under the wolf's arch. It was a tight, dark, and musky fit, but he wasn't flattened under the wolf's broad pad or toes as he jogged onto the pitch, so Kyle counted that as a victory. Now the human just hoped that Seattle's star Forward would sit on the bench for the full 90, and he could get out of this just needing a shower, as opposed to medical treatment and possibly a new identity. Those dreams however were swiftly crushed the second Clint lifted his foot to do a back heel pass, sending Kyle sliding down towards the wolf's massive toes. When Clint's foot was back on the ground, Kyle was 'secured' under one of his massive toe pads, sweat already starting to leak from it. The scent made him dizzy, sweat beads smearing on his face with every hard tap of the toes. Try as Kyle might to stay still and unnoticeable he couldn't help but wriggle and squirm as he tried to free himself from the toe's pressing grip.

Clint slowed his sprint to a jog, as stopped at the half circle, eyes on ball like one of his quadruped ancestors watching a rabbit trot about. "Don't let Brad here you make that metaphor!" He thought to himself with a smirk as the rabbit, their centerback and captain, pulled off a risky slide tackle in the box to dispossess Portland's striker, sending the ball rolling up field. Clint got ready to take a better attacking position when he felt a lump under one of his toes. Said toe flexed a bit, rubbing the pad over the lump. Something was definitely in his shoe, however it felt too soft to be a rock, it had a texture he couldn't quite place. Part of him wanted to actually take the time to unlace his cleat and dislodge whatever object was stuck. Clint began to reach down when his eyes caught the eyes of the coach, the old Tiger's eyes darting from Clint to the bench. Clint quickly stood erect again and waved it off, refocusing his eyes on the ball. He'd be damned if he was going to get subbed out not even half way in, and all because of a damn piece of lint in his shoe or something! "If I can play with a broken nose I can play with some lint in my shoe." He growled as he made a forward run, seeing a midfielder in position to send him a through pass.

Kyle continued to squirm, the game had just reached his 30th minute and Clint's paws continued to heat up, more and more sweat smearing across his skin, some getting into his mouth and nostrils. Kyle began to punch at the paw and squirm, hoping to maybe get the wolf's attention, at least enough for him to stop and see what's irritating his foot. He had indeed caught the wolf's attention, but not in the way he had hoped, instead of Clint removing his cleat to inspect the foreign object in his shoe the wolf instead decided to just shuffle it around. The wolf gave his thick toes a flex, two digits ensnaring Kyle in their thick furred walls.

"That's better!" Clint thought to himself as the obstruction was snuggled tightly between his toes "Now it won't interrupt my stride." His eyes darted up to the clock, 42nd minute, the game still goalless. Oba had the ball and was dribbling it up field, his eyes signaled Clint to run ahead to get a through pass. Clint obliged, passing the last of the back four as the ball landed at his feet. The goal keeper ahead of him was a young badger, recent signing getting his first pitch action in the MLS. "Can't fuck this one up!" He half joked to himself as he sprinted into the edge of the box. Images of headlines declaring this his 6th straight goalless game flooded his head like poison as did a quick maneuver and struck the ball towards goal, closing his eyes as soon as his foot collided with it, the wolf unable to watch as his mind conjured images of the goalkeepers gloves wrapping around the ball like a venus fly trap. Instead his ears got all the confirmation he needed, a horn blasted into his ears "GOAAAAAAALLLLLL!" The announcer yelled over head, as Clint blinked, noone more surprised at the wolf breaking duck than the Wolf himself. "Clint Delway in the 45th minute Ladies in gentlemen has broken duck, placing YOUR SEATTLE OCTANE IN THE LEAD!" The cheering of the crowd made Clint's blood rush as he began his celebratory run to the corner flag, the lint still safely stuck between his toes.

The locker room buzzed with excitement as the Octane took their half time break, hugs and high fives were practically thrown at Clint as he took a seat to listen to the coach's pep talk. "Now I can finally get rid of this damn thing!" He thought as he began to unlace his left cleat.

"Just what the fuck do ya think yer doing laddy?" The old tiger asked looking at Clint "You just got your shooting boots back and now ya want to take em off? I don't wanna see you barepawed until the last whistle, that clear?" Another player may have laughed their coach off, but Clint learned two lessons growing up in rural Texas, respect your elders and respect others beliefs. If coach believed he should keep his boots on until the end of the match he was going to keep his boots on until the end of the match, lint or no lint.

"You got it coach!" Clint said as he gave the lint between his toes another squeeze. Actually felt kinda nice now.

"You're goddamn right I am! Now listen up Lads, we got the lead, but it's not a comfy one, not yet at least. Clint, Oba, I want you two playing box to box now, I don't bloody care if ya puke after the game, I want yer footprints all over this pitch, we can't give em an inch and I want to take at least one more mile! And I want you all to remember I've got 3 subs and a bench full of lads eager to catch my eye, I don't wanna see any slacking from any of you lot. Lucas, make some blood forward runs boy, you're a wingback now..." Sig droned on, yelling at every member of the starting 11. "Marcus, get closer to the bloody touch line, Jaysus boy you're practically playing the ball in midfield! You know they'd not stand that in the Premiership!" Clint had to choke back a laugh, every pep talk Sig seemed obligated to bring up his career playing in the Scottish Premiere League. "And Brad, I know you want the lasses to think you've got a big dick, but a slide tackle in the box, are you fucking loony lad? I don't want to see anymore of that shit in the box tonight, the last thing we need is them cunts scoring an equalizer! Alright you all now your jobs, now get out there and work for a living why don't ya!"

Kyle's body felt like a blob of jello by the time Clint had strolled out for the second half. The tiny human held in a vice grip by the toes, his body bruised and battered, every breath thick with the wolf's musk, burnt nostrils and eyes cried dry. Kyle couldn't bear to think of another 45 minutes like this. Perhaps the universe heard him, and had a cruel streak, because the wolf relaxed the grip on his toes for but a second, letting Kyle slither out of their grip, the sweat covered human sliding down the wolf's cleat towards the heel.

"Damn." Clint muttered to himself as he felt the lint dislodge between his toes, it proceeded to slide around his shoe as he shook his foot trying to force it back up to his toes, it eventually landed under the ball of his foot by the time the referee's whistle had blown. Clint had no more time to toy with his toe lint, his feet had the much more important job of scoring goals. "Well I guess it could now be a nice little shock absorber!" He joked to himself as he took off after the ball, wolfish instincts flowing through his veins at the same speed of that warm excited blood, the crowds cheers still echoing as he felt his paw pad smash down on the piece of lint, really digging into it. It felt rather exhilarating and gave him a burst of energy he needed to corner the ball carrier, and disposed him with a simple poke of his toe. Clint took possession of the ball, moving it up field at a slightly slower pace, letting the supporting cast get into good positions. He shot a backheeled pass to Lucas, as him himself headed for the center box. Lucas was able to make a danger close touch line run, putting Marcus to shame as he set himself up by the corner flag, eyes scanning the box. The young fox crossed the ball over to Clint, he jumped off his feet to meet the ball with his head. The announcer yelled out goal before Clint's feet even hit the ground, his shock absorber once again taking a heavy hit as the wolf nearly stomped on the pitch with his landing, excitement once again flowing through him as he ran to hug the young fox who set up the assist.

"THATS TWO GOALS TONIGHT FOR CLINT DELWAY LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. THIS WOLF IS HUNGRY TONIGHT!"

Kyle felt a bit of blood leak out of his nose, the announcer let out in a booming voice. "10 Regulation Minutes left Ladies and Gentlemen, and YOUR Seattle Octane are leading 2 Nil!" The wolf's foot came down again, the pad again pressing into Kyle's bruised and bloodied body. Only 20 more minutes to deal with at maximum, he'd be damned if he would die now! At least the broken nose made it harder for him to smell the wolf's thick musk. It didn't however help with the sauna that the wolf's cleat had become, heat rivaling the Sahara emanated from the wolf's thick pads, if Kyle wasn't crushed he might just be cooked. Play continued on, with the wolf making more forward runs, stomping on Kyle over and over. While it seemed the wolf was at least relaxing a bit in terms of his stamina, Kyle could still feel every crushing stomp of the wolf's foot. Somewhere in here was a joke about lasting the full 90, but Kyle was too exhausted and dizzy to think of it. He couldn't tell if his eyes fluttering was him passing out or him dying, either way the tiny human insole was all too content to let the darkness envelope him.

The final whistle blew and Clint felt like he could finally stop running. The wolf panted as the crowd erupted. "THAT'S IT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, YOUR SEATTLE OCTANE ARE THROUGH TO THE US OPEN SEMI FINALS! THANK YOU FOR JOINING US!" The referee jogged up to Clint, handing him the match ball. The wolf could nearly kiss the damn thing. He went for one more quick jog around the pitch, most of the crowd staying behind to cheer for him. When he finally reached the tunnel to the locker room, Sig was standing there with the biggest grin on his face. "Well I think I may have saved my starting spot for a couple more games!" Clint said with a grin to his coach.

"Two or three, yea, lad!" Sig responded "Now go take a damn shower!"

"Yessir!" Clint jogged into the locker room, his team all shouting plaudits at him as he finally got to take off his shooting boots. By the time his left sneaker was peeled from his foot the rest of his team had hit the showers. "Now I can finally see what was in my damn shoe!" He muttered to himself, the mystery had been nagging in the back of his head all night.

He didn't know what he had expected to find, but it certainly wasn't this. A bruised and battered human was laying in his shoe, blood streaked down his face and his clothes were torn and covered in sweat, but he was alive. Clint blinked for a second, tapping his foot before grinning looking down at the small human still in his shoe.

"Well, it looks like I found my new good luck charm!"