A Sizeable Difference

A Sizeable Difference

Chapter 1 - Assistant Coach

True to their name, the Baltimore Barbarians stormed into the locker room making a lot of noise. Nate Howlett, however, was the only quiet one.

He silently observed as some of his teammates laughed loudly and made a racket, glad to finally be done with practice, while others panted heavily, exhausted by the tough and demanding exercises the Coach liked to put them through. Either way, they were all equally dirty and sweaty.

This was the hardest part of the day for him.

His teammates would begin taking off their football gear, revealing sore and swollen muscles at different speeds. Some seemed eager to get naked as fast as possible and jump in the shower, while others took their sweet time strip teasing, took off their jerseys, paused to listen to some joke, smiling and scratching their abs, then turned around and slowly dropped their pants, showing off bubble butts tightly secured by jockstraps. And even though Nate had practically grown up in locker rooms, he still had to focus not to stare too much at the bodies of all those jocks.

Today he was having to try particularly hard.

Nate was new to the team. He had just gotten into college on a scholarship, glad he had made a good enough impression during his High School matches. Maybe he could become a pro player, after all, and eventually be a Wide Receiver on the biggest teams in the country. But for that, he'd have to improve his game and convince the Coach to get him in the field, given that the other guys were more skilled and experienced than him. A freshman always had to work twice as hard to beat his seniors, he thought, so he was heading to the gym for some post-practice weight lifting instead of showering with the other studs, despite being almost completely beat by now.

He began taking off his football gear, slowly and shyly, constantly looking around to see if someone was checking him out. He had a good body, fruit of his desire to always work harder than everybody else, but never caught anyone staring at his well defined muscles or at his smooth skin. Even so, he never got naked in front of others. He always stopped at his underwear, took some gym clothes out of his locker and then began dressing up again, still drenched in sweat.

His teammates had never managed to see what he was hiding.

There were a couple of things that made him uncomfortable in that place. Besides having to focus not to draw attention to his undying curiosity about the naked body of his colleagues, the fact that there were so many men casually talking to each other with their dicks out, rubbing shoulders in this way too small of a locker room, made him feel claustrophobic. He looked at the shower and got goosebumps at the sight of his teammates soaping up their asses and balls, waiting for the guys under the showerheads to step aside so that they could wash it off, taking turns to clean up and laughing about it. So many naked hunks crowding in such a small area. How could they just feel comfortable with so many other naked men invading their personal space? How would he ever be able to casually stand there buck naked with them when people would be bumping their dicks on him left and right?

But more importantly, Nate had a small secret he wanted to keep private.

"McCarthy!" someone shouted in a deep voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Greg Marino, the Assistant Coach, was looking for Sean McCarthy, the Quarterback. Nate watched mesmerized as Sean, a stunning red-haired senior almost ready to go pro player, walked stark naked across the locker room towards the Assistant Coach, not even bothering to get dry or to cover himself with a towel. He paid close attention as the trainer and his star player began discussing something regarding tomorrow's practice. Sean was soaking wet and stood with his arms crossed as a puddle formed under his feet, unashamed by his bare ass being turned in the general direction of all his teammates, who could stare at it as hard as they wanted. Nate's mouth got suddenly dry when he saw the water dripping from that ginger's body, especially the drops falling from the tip of his penis. Sean always made him thirsty.

But he was more impressed by Greg's willpower to never break eye contact with that hunk. If he were in his place, Nate was sure he'd lose his train of thought before long, and start to stutter as he got lost in Sean's green eyes, hypnotized by his big smile and those small, round ears bent forward that gave the Quarterback a boyish, sweet kid look in spite of his strong and manly body. Then his gaze would slowly begin trailing down, first at Sean's hard pecs, flexed by the way he crossed his arms, unfortunately hiding those tiny pink nipples he had, then at his well-defined abs, noticing the red happy trail that went all the way down from his belly button to his dangling cock, crowning it with a ginger bush that Nate could vividly imagine tickling his nose.

Greg, on the other hand, was an equally impressive man, even with his clothes on. Nate looked at his big biceps as he held up a clipboard, unintentionally flexing them, and noticed how all his other muscles were just as developed, filling up his shirt and making his pants stretch to hold his round butt and thick thighs. Those two guys side by side were a feast for Nate's eyes, and he lost track of time as they talked to each other, so at ease with the many men in various states of undress surrounding them.

"Howlett!" Greg shouted at Nate, and he suddenly turned his head, pretending not to have been staring just now. "Why haven't you showered yet?"

"I'm just gonna lift some weights now and shower later," he shouted back, over the loud noises of the rest of the team.

"Ok, then, but you've been doing that every day since you got here, man. Don't push yourself too hard, your muscles need to rest."

"Sure thing, coach," Nate responded. He did feel like his muscles needed some rest, but he couldn't just stand there waiting for everyone to leave the locker room so that he could shower alone. Going back to his dorm without changing was also out of the question, that would just be even more suspicious. And it would also be suspicious to wear shorts in the shower. Then everyone would know he had something to hide, and that would be just as bad as being naked... No, it was better to make something useful while waiting for everyone to leave, and then he'd be able to shower in peace. Besides, his muscles weren't as big as the other guys', so he probably should work out more than everybody anyway. It all made sense in the end.

He got up, stuffed his things in his locker, and left for the gym, making sure to keep his gaze at eye level. But out of nowhere someone slapped his ass harder than you'd expect a friendly butt slap to feel, and he turned around, startled and excited by the sudden pain. "Good job, Nate," he heard Sean say, "these pussies are all beat but you're still working out! Impressive," and the redhead smiled in a goofy, overly friendly manner.

That was too much excitement for Nate to handle properly, and for a split second he did exactly what he was afraid he'd do, and openly looked down at Sean's dick, fascinated by the way the pale white skin of the shaft gave way to the pink cockhead, its color matching nicely with the ginger pubic hair covering his ballsack. That beautiful set of balls always gave him the urge to find out how they would feel on his hands, rolling them around for a while, feeling their weight and warmth. But then he snapped out of it and looked up at Sean's eyes again, smiled politely, and left in a hurry. As he walked away, he wondered if Sean had noticed the effect his dick had over him, while the Quarterback stood silent for a while, not sure he had just seen Nate stare at his cock.

---

In the 40 minutes it took Nate to finish his workout, the locker room had emptied. If not for the distinct smell that a bunch of sweaty jocks tends to leave in a place, you'd never imagine it being so packed just over half an hour ago. Nate was relieved. Now he didn't have to worry about anything.

He looked around to make sure he was alone and then began taking his clothes off. Greg was right, working out so much did leave his muscles sore. He was having trouble lifting his arms to take his shirt off and then bending over to take his shorts off, but after a few grunts and enough grit, he was finally naked. All he needed now was a good, hot shower, he thought, and all that pain would go away.

He turned the water on, glad it was just as hot as he wanted it to be, and began massaging his body, taking his time spreading soap on the parts more in need of attention. His biceps were killing him, and his shoulders were in desperate need of a good rub to release all that tension. The hot water's high pressure also began working its magic, and it wasn't long before he was simply standing under it, his arms limp by his side, his eyes closed, his mind empty, relaxing every muscle he had and feeling that relaxation running down over him, now and then giving him shivers. He was feeling so good to finally wash all that musky sweat off that he didn't realize someone else was undressing in the locker room. His awareness was completely focused on his lower back when someone suddenly talked to him.

"Hey there, Howlett," a familiar deep voice said, and he opened his eyes surprised, almost gasping. It was Greg, completely naked and getting in the showerhead by his side. Nate didn't respond and quickly turned his back to the Assistant Coach, hiding his dick as best as he could. "Fuck!" he thought, beginning to panic.

Greg thought Nate's reaction was odd but didn't give it much notice. Then he saw the jock's back and realized he had never seen him naked before. If he had he would surely remember, given how well defined Nate's back muscles were, and he absentmindedly began tugging his dick as he appreciated the young man's hard work. Those muscles weren't particularly big, but it was clear this guy worked out more than the other players. He looked like an illustration you'd see in an anatomy book, with every muscle individually highlighted to allow for a better understanding of the human body. Greg admired that scene as the water ran down Nate's back, soaking his ass, the back of his thighs, his calves... "Just how much did this guy work out to get so ripped?" he asked himself, before looking away, trying not to get too excited. He thought Nate probably wouldn't take his trainer's hard-on for the compliment it would be.

"Worked out a lot?" he asked, trying to start a conversation on a topic that he was sure Nate would find entertaining. But Nate didn't respond. He seemed to have stopped washing, and had his hands in front of him, apparently covering his balls. Greg didn't understand, and stood in silence for a while, soaping his hairy armpits, now and again noticing the hunk wasn't moving. "Was it too crowded in the gym, or was it just you?" he tried again, now turning around and soaping his tight ass, and after a long silence Nate stuttered in a low voice: "Y-yeah." He sounded like a terrified little boy.

"Are you okay, man?" the trainer asked, slightly confused. He looked closer and saw that Nate was still covering his dick with both hands, hiding it, as if he were trying to protect it from a kick in the balls. Greg didn't quite know what to say or do. He had been around naked guys in locker rooms for long enough to have seen everything that could make a guy embarrassed: the usual accidental boner, the fungus infection in a weird place, the ugly scar... But the way Nate was frozen had him worried. Should he just ignore it and leave the guy alone or was this something serious? He was responsible for his players well being, after all.

He turned his shower off, even though he was still covered in soap. "You okay?" he asked again, getting closer to Nate. Was it just a boner? Maybe Nate was jerking off when he got here. But what if it was something else? "It's okay, Nate, you don't need to feel embarrassed. I've seen it all already," he insisted, trying to gain the jock's trust. But Nate didn't move. He had his eyes closed, the hot water was still splashing on his face and chest, burning his skin and making it painfully red. Greg waited for a few more seconds and the lack of response made him sure he needed to find out what was going on. He stepped even closer, close enough that Nate could now feel him breathing on his neck, turned the shower off, put his callous, heavy hand over the player's left shoulder, and turned him around slowly so that they were facing each other. "Come on, Nate, tell me what's wrong," he said in a deep voice, making sure it sounded like an order.

"Game over," Nate thought.

With his chin buried in his chest, in what must have been the most embarrassed he ever felt in his life, he slowly took his hands away from his cock, tremblingly revealing the tiniest dick Greg had ever seen.

The Assistant Coach's knee-jerk reaction was a chuckle, quickly followed by the realization of what exactly he was seeing, and then silent disbelief. He was thunderstruck. Greg was getting close to his 40s now, and in his almost 30 years of discretely checking out every penis in every locker room he had ever entered, he had never quite seen anything like this. He didn't even know how to react. Nate's cock was impressively small, like a small kid's. Or maybe even smaller than that, and it was hard to believe it was a real thing. Poor guy.

And Greg suddenly connected all the dots. The workouts after practice, the obvious obsession in developing his musculature, the lonely showers, him never getting naked around the other guys... Of course. Nate was new on the team and was terrified of what his teammates would say when they saw just how tiny he was.

Greg also realized that, ironically, all the care that Nate took to make his muscles as defined as they were, probably some sort of compensation, actually had the effect of making his dick seem even smaller. Everything else about Nate's body just oozed virility, but you simply wouldn't find much manhood hanging between his legs. It was like seeing a Greek statue for the first time, the small penis seemed comical and out of place in such a manly figure. But Nate was a real man, not something that existed only in the weird mind of a sculptor thousands of years ago. Greg pitied him. "Poor guy," he thought again.

But that didn't mean that Greg didn't find Nate a very sexy man, though.

"Hey, man," he said, overcoming his initial shock. "Hey, Nate, look at me." Nate looked up, his eyes watering in shame and anger. "Is this why you never take showers with the other guys?" he heard the Assistant Coach ask, and he felt all his blood rush to his face as his heart sank. He just wanted to run away, and didn't have enough strength to answer the question. His silence said it all. "You shouldn't feel bad about it, you know?", the trainer insisted. "I mean, sure it is very tiny but—"

Greg instantly regretted his phrasing.

To Nate, the words "very tiny" felt like a gut punch, and he lowered his head again, wincing in defeat. He wasn't panicking anymore, his mind wasn't racing with impossible plans to save himself. He was simply filled to the brim with a feeling of exposure and humiliation he had never experienced before. This was happening, there was no way out anymore.

"Sorry, man," Greg said, trying to undo his mistake. It was clear this guy wasn't able to deal with such direct remarks about the size of his cock. "Hey, come on, chin up. It's not that bad." Nate looked at him like a sad puppy, pursing his lips and holding back his tears. "What's the big deal? Are you worried about what the guys would say?" Nate shivered, giving away his biggest fear. The mere thought of all his teammates looking at him and making cruel jokes paralyzed him with dread. Greg sighed. "They're your team, man. They're on your side. Sure, maybe they'll make a few jokes in the beginning, but so what? They'll get over it, eventually. Every team has a guy like you."

With this last lie, Greg realized how hard he was trying to make this guy feel better. Sure, every team had guys with small dicks, but there was just no way there was another fully grown football player with a cock this tiny. But his lies didn't seem to be working. Nate was devastated.

He listened as Greg said all that and tried to lift his spirits, but he just couldn't help it. Now that Greg knew, soon everyone would know, and they'd make his life hell just like the guys in High School did. "Fuck," he thought, remembering the worst years of his life and all the cruel nicknames they had for him back then.

It also didn't help that Greg was standing naked in front of him, serving as a reference point for just how astonishing Nate's cock was. Nate had never had the opportunity to see the Assistant Coach's dick, so he didn't quite know what to expect. And now that he was there, covered in soap and trying to cheer him up, Nate angrily checked him out, already sure that he would feel even less of a man if he did.

And he was right.

Even soft, Greg's dick was long. It hung between his hairy legs, pointing downwards, arched over its weight. Its color was a little darker than Greg's southern Italian complexion, and his pelvis was covered in short dark hair, neatly trimmed, making it easier to assess just how beautiful and hefty it was. But it wasn't just his dick that was impressive. Even in his late 30s, Greg seemed to still take very good care of his body, and it exuded a manliness that his dick only emphasized. Nate measured him up, envying everything about him, his hairy barrel chest, his broad, strong shoulders, his solid muscles, his square jaw. His big cock and balls. He'd give anything to be hung like the guy trying to convince him that a small penis was no big deal.

Greg noticed that Nate was staring at his dick and stopped talking. He suddenly felt bad for being naked in front of him, as if his cock was a cruel thing to show to such an underprivileged guy. He pitied Nate even more. But he knew that being this upset and hurt because of your own body wasn't healthy, and the way he had reacted meant Nate was in a bad mental place. Something had to be done.

"Nate. Listen up," he said, his voice back to the usual commanding tone, completely devoid of pity. "It's my job to take care of my players, both physically and mentally, and you need my help. The way you're acting isn't healthy, and no matter how small your dick is, you can't let it get to you this way." He paused, gauging Nate's reaction. The jock seemed frightened like a young boy about to be disciplined. "You have to come to terms with your body. I can help you with it." Nate's face lit up. He was expecting pain and humiliation, not a helping hand. Greg grabbed his towel, wrapped it around his waist, and began walking away. "Meet me in my office tomorrow before practice. We'll talk more then."

Something about his tone made Nate feel more comfortable. The idea of one of the manliest men he had ever seen offering help seemed reassuring. And once again he was alone in the locker room, wet, naked, feeling pain on his overworked musculature. Only this time, it was different. This time, he felt lonely.

---

The next morning was very cold. Nate was in front of Greg's office early, as instructed, anxious to find out what was going to happen.

This was the first time since High School that he wasn't thinking about his dick in a depressing way, but with curiosity and some... hope. He was hopeful about today. Greg was the kind of guy that brought that out on him: an older man, manly and strong, whose approval was something to strive for, something you had to earn. Much of the shame Nate felt came from his impression that he'd never be able to become a man like that, no matter how hard he trained, how big his muscles got or how good he got at football. He'd always be the guy who everybody laughed at as soon as they saw him naked, and there was no cure for that. But Greg said he could help him, and he seemed to have something in mind. Maybe there was a way, after all.