Michael

You finish dragging the boxes up from your brother's van, and set them on the bare mattress. You grumble to yourself about the fact that nobody else in your family could be bothered to help, but being used to it, you shrug it off. While you're unloading clothes, you turn your head, and notice that you're armpits are not smelling their best.

Grabbing a towel and some body wash, you head out into the hallway, and make your way to the men's shower room. As you step inside, you hear the sound of water falling to the linoleum floor. Someone is already in here. This realization brings a smile to your lips, and makes you forget about your own need to bathe. Knowing the reputation this school has, you know that it's never too early to let people know not to mess with you.

As quietly as you can, you remove your sock, and sneak around to the only closed stall in the room. You silently peak through the small gap in the curtain. You can't see much, but you can tell when he turns around. This is when you strike. You throw open the curtain, revealing a tall, lanky young man. Before he can spin around, you grab his arms, and hold them behind his back, tying them together with your sock.

"What the fuck?!"

"Sorry bro," you answer, "Nothing personal. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." You spin him around, and what you see makes you throw your head back in laughter. His penis is shrunken to the size of a small nub, almost looking like a small acorn stuck in his dark brown pubes. "Man, your bad luck is a lifelong thing, huh?"

"What? Oh, screw you! I'm a grower."

"I'll bet you are. You can tell that to the girls."

"What?"

Without bothering to answer him, you grab his arms, and easily lift him in the air. He kicks at you, but can't get enough impact to bother you much. You carry him out of the shower room into the hallway, where a couple of young ladies are walking past. They get a glimpse of the naked man's shortcomings, and giggle to each other as they walk away.

"Come on man! What did I ever do to you?" he cries, as you drag him into the currently empty women's shower room.

"I already told you it ain't personal. Don't you listen?" You drag him to one of the stalls, and untie his hands, quickly retying them to the shower head, so his hands are stretched above his head. "Alright, now when people ask you who did this, you tell them Michael Cepeda, you got me? You get it wrong, and I'll make this the worst year of your life. That little thing will be the background of every computer on campus, got me? Good." You peak out the door so as not to get caught exiting the women's shower room, and make your way back to the men's. Halfway through your shower, you hear a loud shriek coming from down the hall, followed by loud laughter, a smile creeps across your face.