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Everytime Max was in the lockerroom, the air was filled with the sour scent of his "lucky" socks. After months of putting up with his musk, you finally confronted him. But he just smirked at you, continuing to change into his yellowed jockstrap and those filthy socks. The next thing you know, the world goes fuzzy around you.

Coming to, everything is black, you can't see anything around you. But you quickly realize that all of your senses are being assaulted by that sour scent, enveloping you, intoxicating you. You feel damp... And disgusting. But you can't help but continue to take in the scent. It rapidly melts your mind, until there's nothing left but a need for that sour scent.

You can hear a muffled laugh, and voices, something about getting ready for practice and having a new teammate, but none of it makes sense as Max slips you into his TN's, ready for another hard practice.

After all, you're his lucky socks. 🧦

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#gaysocks #dirty socks #socks #nsft puppy #sk8erboy

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Someone come kick me in the balls and make me sniff my own socks

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