A Sizeable Difference I - 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.

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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.

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"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.

"Hey there, Howlett," Greg said when he showed up, smiling politely and unlocking his office.

"Hey, coach."

"Get in."

Greg's office wasn't very big. It only had enough room for a desk with one chair on each side of it and a few other things. It was clear they didn't think the Assistant Coach would be receiving many guests at once. There was also a small shelf with some trophies, a heater, a plant, and no window. Greg entered after Nate and locked the door behind him, making the jock suddenly feel claustrophobic.

"Take off your clothes," he said dryly, crossing his arms and standing in front of the locked door. Nate was surprised by this sudden order, and started to feel like he had fallen into some kind of trap. He stood still at first, but the serious and dominant way Greg was staring at him made it impossible to disobey, and he started to undress, slowly realizing how chilly this office was.

"I've been thinking about how I can help you. And I think I got the answer," Greg said seriously, looking at Nate as he took off his pants and revealed his white briefs. There wasn't much volume on the front.

"Take everything off," he said when Nate looked up at him hesitating. They were both standing in the small space between the desk and the door. The room could probably fit only two more men, maybe one, depending on which of the football players you chose. Nate dropped his underwear and felt a draft on his balls, that shrank even more, now looking impossibly small. He looked at Greg, anxious, and the trainer noticed how the chilly air wasn't helping his player in the least.

"Your problem is quite simple, when you think about it. You have an issue with the size of your dick. The size itself is not the problem, I hope you realize that, but your attitude towards it is." Greg was talking as matter-of-factly as possible, and that tone bothered Nate. He got angry when people mocked him, and even angrier when they pitied him. But the authoritative and unemotional way Greg spoke made him feel helpless as if the Assistant Coach didn't even give him the right to pity himself. "We gotta change your mindset," he continued, towering over Nate, his arms still crossed, "otherwise, you'll always live in fear of someone finding out your little secret, and when that inevitably happens you'll feel just as defeated and lost as you felt yesterday." Greg stepped forward, getting very close, and pointed at Nate's cock. "You've got to come to terms with your tiny dick."

Nate nodded. He was feeling a mix of emotions that was completely new to him. There was shame and discomfort, as there always was when he was naked in front of another man, but there was also a weird excitement. Greg was pointing at his cock every time he talked about how little it was, and that made him very self-aware, but also fired up. Was he enjoying the way Greg was manhandling him?

Also, the fact that he was completely naked while Greg still had his clothes on, and the temperature in the room making him shiver, only accentuated the power dynamic between the two of them. The Assistant Coach was in charge, and every word out of his mouth remembered the jock of this fact. Nate was slowly realizing how much that made him feel vulnerable. And horny.

"The first problem we're gonna deal with is your denial. It's clear to me you're still in denial about yourself," Greg proceeded, alternating between looking Nate straight in the eyes and staring at his cock. "So, Howlett, from today on I'll be helping you come to terms with the reality of facts. And the reality is that you have the tiniest cock I've ever seen, and people will be a pain in the ass when they find out about it. You have to learn to deal with that. Now it's sink or swim."

Greg opened his fly and took his cock out, stepping even closer to Nate.

"Here, take a look at it."

The difference in size was impressive. Greg put his hands behind his back and leaned his hips forward, putting their dicks side by side in a way that their difference in length and girth was easier to see. Nate wasn't expecting this. At first, he was impressed by the Assistant Coach's dick, now seeming to be harder than when he saw it yesterday. It wasn't pointing downward anymore, but forward, directly at him, and even though it wasn't completely hard yet you could already see some of the veins under the olive skin. But when he looked at his own cock he became embarrassed by how off the mark he was in comparison. Nate tried to look away, that image was too humiliating for him to bear, but he just couldn't. He wanted to see.

"Do you see it?" Greg asked. Yes, he did. He was seeing how pathetic he looked next to a real man, how heavy, powerful, and menacing Greg's cock looked, and how comical his was. And, to make things even worse, the body heat coming from his coach, his deep voice talking to him in this tone, his beautiful dick pointing at him... all that made Nate have an erection almost instantly. His penis got harder, but only a little bigger, so little that Greg didn't notice at first. Nate wasn't a shower, but he also wasn't a grower.

The trainer continued talking to Nate about the need to see things for what they are and learn to accept them, when he moved his hips again and accidentally swung his cock against Nate's, noticing that it felt a little harder than he thought it would be. He paused and took a closer look at it.

"Is this... Are you hard?"

Nate looked up at him, mortified, afraid of what he was gonna say next. The words people chose to express their disbelief were always the worst part. But instead of saying something, Greg looked into his eyes, deep into his soul, and even though he was silent, Nate understood his disappointment completely. Yes, this was his hard dick. It was ridiculous. He lowered his head again, defeated once more. But Greg put his hand on his chin and pulled his face up, reestablishing their eye contact.

"I think you don't get it yet. I'm not trying to shame you. I'm here to make you lose your fear of reality. Being embarrassed is useless. Accept yourself as you are."

Those were the kindest words Nate had ever heard. He felt his eyes tearing up as Greg gently touched his face, but held the tears back as well as he could. The Assistant Coach then took the jock's hand and made him grab his dick before putting his own hands behind his back once more.

"Make me hard too so that you can see the difference," he said, his face so close that Nate could feel his breath.

Nate had never touched a dick besides his own, so he had no idea how it would feel. The first thing that surprised him was the way it filled his hand, big and heavy. He could never grab his cock by a handful like this. The next thing he noticed was how hot and hard it was becoming. It was impressive how much of everything it was. He started to run his hand over Greg's shaft, now and again looking up at his face, as if asking for permission, which was granted with a nod and a cheeky smile. As Nate teased it, Greg's dick became larger and larger, getting more rigid the more strength Nate used to squeeze it, and pointing more and more upwards, making Nate have to pull it harder back down to keep it in the same place, right beside his small penis.

"Rub them against each other."

Nate obeyed. He had heard the expression "sword fight" before, and sometimes jerked off fantasizing about doing it, dreaming pretty much the same situation that was happening right now. But when he rubbed their dicks against each other he couldn't help but feel that expression didn't apply to this case. You couldn't have a sword fight between a hammer and a nail.

Now that they were both fully hard, which meant Greg being as big as he could, but Nate almost as little as he always was, they were seeing how much one dwarfed the other. Even Greg's balls were much heavier, hanging down low, while Nate had his pair of olives shrunk by the cold.

And holding his trainer's dick gave Nate a vaguely religious experience, making him feel very grateful for that gift, but also angry at God. How could he be so unfair to him? They didn't even look like two males of the same species. But a small drop of precum appeared on the tip of Greg's cock, showing Nate that he was feeling grateful as well. Nate was enjoying being able to hold the Assistant Coach's cock and balls, running his hand by every inch of them. Fuck, he wished he could do this forever. And this state of excitement and anger, all at once, had him confused. He wanted to hide his cock and run away, but at the same time, he'd never let go of that monster dick. Fuck.

"Come on, stop teasing. Jerk them both off," Greg ordered, sighing impatiently and crossing his arms. Nate realized Greg didn't even have to use force to dominate him. Orders were enough.

With one of his hands, Nate began to jerk his own dick, using just his thumb and index finger to pinch and massage the head, while running them at his almost vestigial shaft. With his other hand, he clumsily tried to grab Greg's cock and jerk it. It was obvious that he had never used more than two fingers to masturbate a penis, he had no idea what he was doing.

Greg noticed this and chuckled. Nate flinched at the sound of amusement of another man, those usually came with a hurtful joke. But Greg didn't say anything mean, just took a hold of Nate's hand and began guiding him. "Let me show you how it works." And his big, callous hand took Nate along all of his shaft, making a twist when they reached the glans, and then twisting back and pulling down to the balls, touching them gently. For a guy who didn't have anywhere close to so much dick to work on, each stroke felt like a journey. It was like Nate's hand could go all the way up, up, up, never finding the tip of Greg's cock, and then had to travel miles back until it reached his balls. It was so much fun.

Greg reciprocated, trying to jerk Nate's dick. But it was just so small that he didn't quite know how to go about it. At First, he just rubbed it against Nate's pelvis using only his index finger. Then he tried pinching it to stroke it, but accidentally did it too hard, and Nate winced. He gave up, there was just no use trying to understand how that small thing worked.

"You do both, now," he said, crossing his arms again, straightening up and puffing his chest. As if he needed to establish any more dominance. Nate did the best he could, going faster and faster as he felt Greg's cock starting to throb, concentrating at his job as if he were trying to juggle too many balls at once. And in a way, he was.

Greg looked him in the eyes again, a big smile across his face, then got closer and spoke in Nate's ear in a deep, gruff voice. "You ready to shoot, Howlett?" he asked, sending shivers up the player's spine. He grabbed Nate's hair and pulled his head back, pressing his mouth against his ear, his grunts now sounding loud as thunder, then grabbed Nate's hand over his cock and started guiding the handjob again, shooting a lot of cum before long, pointing his dick straight at Nate's cock while the hunk felt his trainer's dick pulsating as he had his hand squeezed around it.

Greg grunted deeply at each shot of load, making Nate shiver with that earth-shattering, guttural sound, and he felt his dick being completely covered with hot cum. All that load began dripping down his thighs, feeling warm as they ran down. The way Greg was panting and pulling his hair roughly made Nate feel in the presence of an animal much stronger and bigger than himself. He liked that feeling, he wanted that animal to do with him whatever he wanted. And as he began drifting into this mindset of complete submission, he shot his load from his tiny dick, covering himself with even more cum, and making a mess on the floor. He had never cum so hard.

As Nate breathed hard and tried to recover his senses, Greg stepped away, putting his dick back in his pants. He looked at the jock, now completely messy with all that cum, smiled with a sense of accomplishment, and went to the other side of the room, sitting at his desk. Nate waited in silence, already used to the idea that Greg would eventually give him another order.

"Ok, Howlett, here's how it's gonna be," Greg said. "Now you're going to put your clothes on, but you're not allowed to clean yourself up. I want you to have my cum all over your dick during practice so that you can keep what happened here fresh in your memory and think long and hard about how dumb this whole embarrassment thing is. I want you to keep thinking about how tiny you are compared to me until that thought stops frightening you."

Nate listened quietly, his eyes wide in disbelief. Greg wanted him to go to practice covered in cum and then run up and down, lifting weights, and sweating all over, all while being grappled by his teammates? He didn't like the idea, he just wanted to clean himself up and go on about his life as usual. He looked at Greg and he realized the Assistant Coach could see his silent disagreement.

"Of course, you could always just go to the showers and clean yourself up. At this time there must be only a few of your teammates there," he said with the cheeky smile the jock was already learning to love.

Nate understood the game, but he wasn't sure he liked it. He grabbed his clothes and began dressing up without wiping all the semen on his dick, balls, and inner thighs, and his white briefs became instantly drenched in cum.

"And clean the floor before you leave. There's a mop by the door." Nate turned around and realized Greg had prepared for the occasion. He mopped the cum stains from the floor as Greg focused on his computer, ignoring his presence. As he moved he could feel his briefs soaked in cum and smearing it around his pelvis, uncomfortably wet. When he was finished he looked at Greg in silence. The Assistant Coach turned his head up, looked around thinking if there was something else for the jock to do, and then dismissed him.

"You can go now. And next time I want you here early again. We'll be doing this every day before practice until you show some improvement."

"Yes, coach," Nate responded sheepishly, realizing he couldn't wait to do all this again. But now he had to go to the locker room and change into his uniform before it got packed with all his teammates.

But when he closed the door behind him, the first thing he saw out of the office was Sean, reclined against the wall and paying attention to his phone. Nate froze, not expecting to meet the Quarterback so soon.

"Oh, hey, Nate. What are you doing here this early?" Sean asked with the same sincere smile as always. Nate didn't know what to say and began stuttering some nonsense as the hunk's green eyes stared at him, slightly confused by his suspicious behavior, but still friendly and innocent.

"Is Coach Marino still giving you a hard time for working out so much?", Sean guessed, trying to help his embarrassed teammate. He took a step forward, getting nearer to Nate, who stepped back, trying to keep his distance. He was afraid Sean would just smell all the cum he was drenched in. "Yeah, yeah, something like that," he said and began walking backwards. "See you later, man."

Sean looked confused and kept staring at Nate as he walked away. Why was this guy so weird? Nate, on the other hand, was screaming inside of his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He suddenly realized how dangerous it could be to be smelling like this. Now he had two secrets to worry about: a small dick and the fact that it was drenched in another man's cum. And he ran as fast as he could towards the locker room, praying for there to be no one close enough to smell him while he got into his training gear.

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written by edizejavi

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