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Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1581887-Big-Men-on-Campus/cid/765158-Jock-god-Clay-stomps-through-your-bedroom
Rated: XGC · Interactive · Erotica · #1581887

Shrunk among cocky jocks, skater boys, punks, geeks & teachers. Who's going to find you?

This choice: Clay takes what he wants  •  Go Back...
Chapter #6

Jock god Clay stomps through your bedroom

    by: Puppet Master Author IconMail Icon
You can barely watch as the sweaty, lumbering jock grabs your most treasured items and throws them crashing to the ground. He rifles through the drawers, picking out a watch your dad gave you for your last birthday. "Nice." He looks down his nose at the expensive piece. "I ought'a be able to sell this for a bag of weed." he says, shoving it in his pocket and scooping up model a plane you spent weeks putting together last year.

"See, this isn't worth shit to me. And you sure as hell ain't gonna get any use out of it now." He snickers, dropping the elaborate model to the ground and raising his size 13 Nike over it. You want to cry out as you watch his huge shoe slam against the ground, his beefy calf flexing as he grinds his foot around and pieces of wood and metal scatter across the floor. Clay laughs obnoxiously, like a destructive little kid as he delights in stomping all over your most prized possessions.

"And this? What the fuck is this meant to be, faggot?" He says, dropping a model car that cost you three allowances to buy when you were kid. Glass shatters and metal bends as Clay's massive Nike grounds again, and his booming laugh taunts you as he stomps repetitively on the already flattened piece of rubble. "Hahaha, hey you should be kissing my fuckin' feet and bein' thankful I haven't stomped on YOU yet, faggot." He bends over, slides the bottom drawer of your dresser open and pulls out a soft blue blanket.

Your jock god seems to have worked up a sweat again, and he wipes the greasy perspiration from his forehead, neck and pits on the little blanket before dumping it back in the drawer. "What the fuck are all these blankets and shit anyway, faggot? They're too small for even a wimp like you."

"They're my baby blankets." You mumble, trying to erase the image of your favourite blanket wiping all over his slimey pit.

"Oh, really?" He says, looking intrigued..
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You have the following choices:

1. Clay unzips his fly and takes a piss in the drawer

2. He dumps the sweaty blanket on you and keeps stomping

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