This choice: Jensen heads to the gym, changing into some size 100 running shoes • Go Back...Chapter #6Jensen hits the gym; slips into some running shoes by: Puppet Master   Twenty minutes later, Jensen strides through a pair of automatic doors with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. The perky receptionist greets him with a flutter of her eyeleashes, and he indulges her with that charming, sex-drenched smile he has perfected and patented.
The man walks up a set of stairs, his hard-soled boots thudding heavily. No-one aroudn him would notice that his left foot makes a softer thud when it hits the ground -- Only because there's a tiny, sobbing cushion lying hopelessly between his sweaty left sole and the inside of his boot.
Jensen walks into the changing rooms, dumps his bag down, and pulls off his shirt to reveal a stellar set of pecs and abs: Smooth, brown and ready to to be further sculpted by a rigorous evening of pumping steel.
He sits down on the bench, which creaks under his muscular frame. Then, with both hands, Jensen pries off each of his boots and admires his toes, which are glistening with thick droplets of sweat. He closes his eyes and brings the right boot to his face, inhaling deeply. "Mmmm.." and then the second..
* * * * *
After what seemed like hours of being pummeled beneath the huge, beefy sole of the Supernatural star's great, masculine foot, you finally feel the pressure ease off of your front and a ray of light enters the boot. You scramble to your feet, riddled with aches and pains but determined to get a whiff of that fresh air.
What you're greeted with instead is Jensen's huge, smug face. It blocks your light out instantly, as he sniffs his sweaty boot with a big smile. His eyes open slowly, and he grins down at you. "How was the ride, little man?" A deep chuckle builds in his throat, as the massive man shakes his head in insincere pity for you. "Well, I sure enjoyed it. I'll tell ya, nothing gives a man a rush like the feel of another dude squirming like a pathetic little bug under his feet. I'm just sorry I don't have two of ya to wriggle around in my Reeboks while I'm wokring out tonight."
These words hit you like a bag of ice, sending shivers down your spine.
"Oh no.. Please.. You can't put me in your running shoes, I'll die.. I won't last under your feet another second.. PLEASE!!"
Tears are starting to run down your face, but Jensen's only reaction is a light-hearted laugh. "Ah, you pet faggots are funny.. Here's the deal. You either climb into my show like an obedient toy and lie down on your back, or I'll stick you somewhere much hotter and much sweatier.. And you won't come out any time soon,."
Your owner points a finger into the dark, seemingly endless depths of his massive running shoe. You're being given an official order, and if you don't mindlessly submit to your muscle-god master, there's no telling what will happen..
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