My name is Mark Lewin. I am an average sophomore at the University of Southern California (USC) studying Computer Science. I am also on the Football team as an Equipment Manager. Most people would describe me as your typical nerd because I dressed like a traditional geek and wore thick-framed glasses. Because of my off-putting appearance, I was bullied severely in high school.
Sometimes, I would come home crying because it was so terrible. The high school wouldn't do anything about it. Hence, the university was my brand-new opportunity to be myself and live a new life away from everything. This was my fresh start.
I loved watching the football games because, at USC, football was a huge deal. I had a blast meeting new people and trying different things during my first year. It was a completely new experience, and I wasn't going to shy away from anything new. Toward the end of my first year, I saw the football team was looking for an Equipment Manager. This position would support the team and ensure all the team members always had everything they needed.
Being the oldest brother out of five siblings, I knew how to manage people well. It was something in my blood, and my mother taught me well. I was independent and could handle any conflict or challenge.
After an interview with the coach, I was accepted to the team. Everyone seemed really friendly except for Brian O'Connor. He wasn't unnecessarily mean to me, but his vibes felt particularly off. He was a huge jerk to everyone else. Because I was new, I think he was giving me leniency.
This wasn't the case for long. During the summer season, he would constantly treat me like dirt, like I was below everyone. I knew equipment managers were brutalized, from what I was told, but I never imagined it would be this traumatic. He was the only one who would consistently demean me at every turn.
During one of the practices, he yanked my shorts and underwear down to the folks watching or walking by. They were laughing at my naked body. He was too busy pulling down my clothes; he didn't see what I was packing. The team members never did anything to help me. They would just laugh and go with what Brian desired.
Beginning of my sophomore year, I was looking forward to this new adventure. I loved what I was doing. I felt like a real asset to the team, except for Brian's asinine selfishness. He had a real undiagnosed case of assholeism.
He wanted to be treated like royalty, and it was exhausting, to say the least. I didn't understand why everyone allowed him to act this way all the time. Didn't these guys have an ounce of a backbone? I was basically this guy's personal assistant or slave. I did everything for him.
One day, I was having a horrible day after I didn't do well on my Statistics exam. Brian was berating me like normal, but I didn't have it that day. I snapped at him to do his laundry and flung his shirt right in his face.
He turned tomato red like he was going to kill me, punched me in the stomach, and threw me to the floor. I was utterly shocked. What the hell just happened? I stood speechless with tremendous fear. I knew he was a huge jackass, but I never knew he would be a tormenting, violent monster.
He told me to never talk to him that way again. He kicked me in the back. I let out a squeal of unbearable pain since he was wearing his sharp cleats. Before he left me, he just laughed at me, saying how pathetic I was for questioning him the way I did.
I was on the floor for a good ten minutes. No one else was in the locker room to help, and I missed practice that day. I couldn't face anyone. After a visit to the campus Health Center, I was fortunate enough that it was just some minor bruising.
The next day, I immediately told the coach in private before practice. The coach genuinely said to my face he wouldn't do anything about it. I literally had the proof he assaulted me, but the coach told me it would be in my best interest to not press charges. I could have gone to the Title IX office to make an official report against Brian.
Still, I was honestly worried about something even worse happening to me. It was incredibly awkward moving forward. I didn't want to be there because I was always concerned and intimidated. Brian would just smirk and wink at me. He would slap my back for emphasis, knowing I was in pain. I didn't tell my parents because I didn't want them to worry. I was at a loss for words and was utterly defeated.
I researched and discovered his family was a legacy at this university. They are also big-time donors to the football team. It was clear what was going on. Nobody would support me because they would lose out if they undermined Brian. I couldn't believe this ego-filled senior was calling the shots on everything. I couldn't let this guy act like this anymore. I needed to do something.
I noticed he never showered after practice. He was clearly hiding something. I just needed to discover what precisely that was. He always stayed later in the evening, so I decided to pretend to leave the locker room. Thankfully, I had my own personal key if I ever needed to get anything.
As planned, in the evening, I stood in the locker room from afar quietly and observed this awful human being. Luckily, he was showering and singing like a complete fool. He put me through such agony I needed some ammunition against him. While I watched him, I crept closer and finally caught him from a decent angle. It was beautiful knowing he was completely vulnerable, unaware of my presence.
My jaw hit the smooth floor after witnessing a moment that will be captured in history. This was a historic moment Brian will never forget. Oh my goodness, I was in a perfect position. I was staring at the smallest penis I had ever seen in my entire life.
The little guy didn't even pass his baby-sized balls, and I couldn't help it. A colossal smirk grew on my now ego-filled face like I was the grinch up to no good. I had something against this tiny-dicked bastard. It was so delicate, tiny, small, and fragile.
I pointed my camera phone in his direction, but it was too difficult to take a decent picture. His teeny weenie little dicklette was so small it didn't even appear in the image. It looked like he had a flat front like he was packing a little clit.
He didn't have blonde hair, but if he did, they could easily cast him as Ken in a live-action Barbie movie. I almost felt bad but remembered what he did to me. His actions couldn't go unpunished; this little one-inch penis needed to be shown to the world. He would be known as the little-incher assaulter with his microphallus.
I just kept staring closely at his small-scaled crotch. I don't even know if a microscope could see what this scathing jock was packing. What a tiny willy. I started giggling to myself. I held my hand to my face because I didn't want him to know I was seeing him in his nublette state. At one point, I thought he noticed me. I swiftly left the room. My heart was racing. I couldn't be foolish; because I knew the uncomfortable reality, I needed to be strategic and stealthy about this.
Later that evening, I went to a sex toy shop and purchased two pairs of real-life handcuffs. Brian had a huge body compared to mine and was mighty against me. How was I going to be able to photograph him from up close? I needed to be near his soft, naked body to capture every detail of his tiny, undersized pee-pee.
What a little diminutive member he had attached to his under-developed balls. I don't even know how he could have sex with something so small. I would have felt bad because I knew no one would ever sleep with him. After all, he had such a small, delicate penis. I would need to hide close to him and handcuff him to his poles near his locker.
A day later, I felt the nerves rapidly swim through me. I had one chance to do this. One move and my life would be over forever. I did not doubt he had the darkness to potentially kill me if he found out what I was doing. The practice was excruciating as usual.
My mind was elsewhere because this plan was filling my mind. The time had come. I waited by the field, pretending to work out for a couple of hours after practice. I entered the locker room very slowly and carefully.
I hid by the sides of the lockers, where he couldn't see me. He finally finished his long shower. I saw him walk to the mirror as his small, shriveled penis bounced around like Jell-O.
I don't know what took him so long. He doesn't have anything between his legs to wash. There was a huge mirror by the locker. He was admiring his body and playing with his little penis. He flexed his muscles and talked to himself about how hot he was. I was disturbed by this cringe. I rolled my eyes at his confidence.
Where did his spirit come from when he only had a little stub for a penis? A toddler would even be embarrassed for him because his petite wee-wee was highly pathetic. It took everything in me to not burst out laughing. Anyone would involuntarily laugh because it was like human nature. It was an innate reaction to absurdly laugh at something so embarrassing. He put his towel around his waist.
He was finally standing by his locker, grabbing his clothes. This was my first and final chance to make him pay. As his back was to me, I launched myself at him and quickly handcuffed his hand to the pole near his locker. He looked stunned and puzzled. It took him a good second to realize what had just happened. He wasn't the brightest tool in the shed, but he had a tiny-sized tool that no one would ever want to use. He shouted at me, and all I could do was laugh at his teeny predicament. I like to think of it as a little screwdriver.
He was cursing and screaming at me and asked me what the hell I was doing. He called me a faggot. He said he would kill me for this. I told him to try. I assured him no one would be in here until the next day, and I threatened this piece of crap. I walked up to him and yanked his towel off his big, smooth body. His little nub bounced in my view. I pointed at his little guy, burning with absolute joy. I started laughing unnecessarily loud at the microscopic dick exposed so close to my face.
