Sideline (G/t)

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

That was the only phrase that Madi and Jake could say as, at last, they left the Nash University locker room. Well, Jake left, and Madi went with him. So, the titanic tight end found himself running through the endless corridors of the Knights' crown jewel as the ways they came in were no longer accessible, either locked for the night or occupied by someone meant to be there. Meanwhile, Madi sat tight, somewhat literally, by his front side in the most oversized sleeping bag known to man, tucked away in the stage-right corner, thanking God that she wasn't jostling or vacuum-sealed right by his junk a wall away.

It was quite a conundrum for both of them.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Jake hissed halfheartedly through his teeth, verbiage unfazed by the impromptu sprint session.

Zooming through the air and pounding the floor as he ran, he didn't know if Madi had heard him through her fabric enclosures. To be fair, though, he wasn't trying to be heard, either, with all the security guards and Nash officials lurking around. But with Madi being visually unnoticeable to everyone under two layers of fabric and currently physically unnoticeable, despite being only disconnected by one from Jake, he couldn't help but wonder if their hearing was one sense that could carry between them still.

He didn't have to ponder for too long with a near-instant response, sent through the airwaves with a ding and vibration into one of his tensed fists.

{I didn't make you do shit.} Madi messaged, using her available way of hidden communication to her advantage, before adding, {What kind of man would you be, taking orders from a two-inch-tall girl?}

Encased in cotton and embraced by flurries of fear and bittersweet scents and sensations, Madi could only wallow in her own thoughts, hypothesizing her new place in the world, and there was so much that she had already learned.

First off, she was tiny. While she clearly already knew that, even rounding up the truth in her text, her scientific nature had her internally cringing at not being able to quantitatively verify her height... or lack thereof. The average person could've used marks across their bodies to signify various lengths like those of days before. Jake's overgrowth in nearly all regards made it impossible to base herself solely on that against anything like a fingerpad. But her knowledge of his wooden sword – now a whole tree trunk – and how it behaved gave her a good amount of information to work with, giving her confidence in her assertion just by eyeballing the colossal curvature further shadowing her already barely lit view.

Secondly, bodies were weirder than she had ever imagined. Inside the underpants' pocket, where the only light around came from either Madi's phone in her lap, whichever light rays peeked through the underwear's weavings to Jake's front, or the few diffused glows from above that managed to reach her from outside his pullover's collar, past his hills of a chest and abs, and through the sliver of a zipper opening to let air circulate, there was no escape from Jake's essence. His natural body heat, already enhanced from running, exponentially increased the warmth held within the fabric.

Was that because she was cooler now at her cup-sized state or because he was overheating due to her position next to him?

All the while, the variant pulsating from him – respiratory breaths, vascular flows, and the hellscape Jake's hormones indeed were – shook the inner wall of the coital cave, enhancing how she was nestled by a living being rather than a typical vehicle she was used to or even an amusement park ride like how it felt to her. To experience what all used to be subconscious, visceral automation at such a magnification was impossible to put into words, and she prayed Jake wouldn't ask whenever she got out.