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[b][u][center]In the Socks of the Stallion

For DarkHero18

By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Curt had a bit of a thing for the locker room. He’d never quite pinned down what the exact ‘thing’ was, but he knew that it was some combination of the body-musk that permeated the air, the chance to see some naked guys, and the ever-so-slight possibility of getting in some naughty fun when the room was empty or near-empty and nobody was watching. Exhibitionism without the consequences was probably a little less fulfilling than the real thing, but as he had never had the chance to actually [i]get[/i] the real thing, he took his pleasure where he could get it.

And today, it looked like it was going to be a doozy. He surreptitiously poked his head around the line of lockers between him and the door to the lobby, his lips turning up in a small smile as a horse walked in. He’d seen that stallion before, seen him taking a long run on the treadmill and a longer cycle ride on the stationeries. He would have worked up a sweat and a half, and -

Hell yes. The big guy had taken off his shoes, his socks, and was working on the rest of his gear. Probably getting ready to grab a shower before heading home. That would give him at least a few minutes to get over there and have a little fun.

Curt waited, half-dreading the possibility of the stallion slamming his locker shut with all his gear inside, but lady luck was on his side. The big guy pulled on a towel and left it open. He probably thought that the locker room was already empty enough to not worry about it.

As soon as the stallion had gone into the shower area just on the other side of the wall, he darted around the corner. He leaned over, pulled the stallion’s socks out of the locker, and pressed them to his nose.

“Mmmmmmm…”

There were few things better than the heady, salty, [i]musky[/i] smell of a good, used pair of socks, as far as Curt was concerned, and whoever that stallion was, his socks had marinated perfectly. They weren’t too bad, weren’t too weak, and they were just sufficiently damp for the scent to linger on his fingers. He pulled his shorts down a bit, letting his cock hang out into his hand, and he gave it a few teasing jerks -

“Heh, what the hell are you doing?”

Only to nearly rip the damn thing off as someone caught him. He yanked his hand away, pulling his pants back up as he turned around.

The stallion was back. Naked, too. Very naked. Towel over his shoulder, mane slicked back with sweat and a bit of water, water bottle in his hand.

[i]Oh. Oh.[/i]

He had gone to fill his water bottle and make a protein shake, not go off to shower. That…that was a dumb moment.

“Uh…hi.”

“Hello yourself, human,” the horse said.

“Um…this probably looks…”

“You were sniffing my socks.”

“What socks?”

“Those socks.”

“What socks?” he repeated, as if the stupid question would be enough to get him out of trouble.

“The ones in your hand.”

“What - oh, those. How did those get there?”

He chuckled nervously, but despite the fact that he had been caught red-handed, the stallion didn’t actually seem that bothered. He looked amused more than anything else, and he crossed his arms over his chest, making his pecs pop just that little bit more. It was, well, rather hard not to look at him when he did that, and Curt rubbed the back of his head more than a little nervously.

“Um…well…can I just say you’re hot?”

“You can, and should.”

“...You’re hot. Real hot. And, um, I guess I couldn’t help myself.”

All lies, of course, but if they got him out of trouble, he’d admit to just about anything. He was something of a coward deep down inside, and he didn’t like the idea of getting beaten up.

The stallion looked him over one more time, then offered a hand.

“I’m Logan,” he said.

“Curt.”

They shook. He let the stallion take the socks away and cleared his throat. His attempt to get around the other guy and go back to his locker, however, was completely futile. The stallion just shifted his footing one way, then the other, keeping him from stepping by, and he eventually stopped trying.

“So, uh…”

“Tell you what.” Logan held out the water bottle he had. “You try this thing - it’s fucking foul, let me tell you - and I laugh at your reaction, and we’ll call it even.”

“...That’s it?”

“You think it’s a bad deal?”

[i]Nope.[/i] If anything, it was a deal so good that he rather struggled to believe it, but he would take it. Better to suffer a bad taste than a bad beating, and considering that Logan towered over him by two and a half feet at eight feet tall, that was something that could ever so easily happen in a place like this. Locker rooms were the worst for getting into fights, and he wasn’t going to try his luck.

He took the water bottle and hefted it. It was bigger than he expected, and almost warm. It wasn’t too surprising, he supposed, considering that protein shakes were all kinds of weird now, but it still made him blanch at the thought of drinking it.

Still, better than the alternative. He flicked the cap open and chugged a mouthful.

It tasted [i]terrible.[/i] Salty and thick and almost jelly-like, he nearly threw up as soon as it hit his mouth. He covered his mouth, thrusting the water bottle back at the horse, and had to lean against the nearest locker to not throw up. He coughed through the mass in his mouth, and it took a slap on the back to get him to swallow properly. It went down with a fight, too.

As soon as it hit his stomach, though, things got worse. He coughed, sputtering, but the warmth that had been in his mouth was spreading out from his middle, running through his legs and up to his arms. He groaned, turning around -

“Ugh…what…why are you so…tall?”

“I’m not,” Logan said, chuckling.

“Sure you are…you’re looming…way up there…”

Even higher up there, now that he thought about it. Higher than the horse should have been. And then higher still.

Curt stumbled forward, trying to take a step, only to fall over. He hit the ground on all fours, but his back didn’t even come up to the top of the benches around him anymore. He gasped, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the impossibility of his situation. Yet, even as he stared, he shrank further, sliding further and further away from the bench. Soon, he didn’t even come halfway off the floor to the bench surface, and then less than a quarter.

As he struggled to pull himself upright, he eventually got to his feet again, but by then, he was no more than six inches tall. And he still wasn’t done, his body tingling, cracking, popping as he kept shrinking further and further. One inch gone. Two inches, and only four inches tall. One more slipped away, and he was down to three, and then one last one, leaving him only two inches tall, and lucky to still have that much to his name. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked up at Logan, who loomed over him like a great mountain, and whose smirk suddenly threatened more.

The horse took one step forward, and the earth rumbled. Curt bounced, falling on his ass as the other foot lifted up and came down. It pressed ever so casually over him, the toes falling on either side of his body before curling tight, pressing him flush to the hot, overheated, over-drenched flesh. One breath left him all but gagging on the thick, heavy, musky scent, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

“Heh, that’s what you get for sneaking around with my stuff.”

“Ah…ah…”

“You wanted it, little human. Don’t you pretend otherwise.”

The toes curled, trapping him even more as the stallion sat down. He was lifted from the ground, trapped as ever, and he could do nothing as the socks came down. He stared at the yellowed fabric as it was pulled over his face, and over his body, pinning him against the stallion’s long toes. They were still damp, and the scent - god, the scent - was stronger than ever, impossible to escape.

They stopped squeezing him, the toes did, but the pressure of the sock kept him pinned right between them anyway. He breathed shallowly, but the pressure all around him kept the scent right there, almost a flavor in the air that never left his mouth. He coughed, he sputtered, but there was nothing left to do but breathe it in and enjoy it.

And some part of him did. He’d been shrunk right out of his clothes, leaving him completely naked, his cock and balls pressed between the toes. Yet, he was still so small that he wasn’t able to hump there, wasn’t able to pleasure himself. His arms were pinned to his sides, the toes keeping him from reaching any closer to his cock. He groaned, biting his lips, but the chance to enjoy himself was just out of reach.

The already dim world of the interior of the sock got darker as the stallion put his shoes on. The thick things cut out all light, and he could see nothing.

“Alright, Curt. Let’s take you home. Maybe you can earn your way out of this…but I doubt it.”

Then, Logan stood up. He didn’t know if it was an effect of the protein shake - or whatever that thing had been - but he wasn’t immediately crushed beneath the stallion’s toes. That was something, at least, even though he gasped for breath as all that weight came down on him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, to keep breathing as the stallion took one step, the weight pressing down further still, and then coming off him as he went flying with that moving foot, only to come down again and press all the air from his lungs once more. Up, down, up, down, up, down.

The world shrank, becoming nothing more than the socks around him and the feet above him. This was his world now, and he had no capacity to spare to think of what waited for him in the future.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A human makes the mistake of sniffing the wrong stallion’s socks.

Tags: M/M, M/solo, Human, Stallion, Human/Anthro, Socks, Musk, Sweat, Shrinking, Micro, Between Toes, Locker Room, Oops,