Muddy shirts slid over torsos and flopped to the ground. Shorts were pulled down over ripped calves and muscular thighs, then dumped in a disgusting pile of laundry, reeking of mascline sweat. Cleats were tossed into the corner, bare feet slapped against the locker room tiles, and eleven tall, statuesque high-school sportsmen strutted into the shower are with tiny, living dolls in hand.
Testosterone had never been thicker in the atmosphere of a room -- Not even during soccer practice. The look of deep, sick satisfaction on the boys' smirking faces would send chills down a regular-sized man's spine. It was a mystery that the tiny captives were able to maintain consciousness under this level of anxiety. All around, broad shoulders and chiselled chests smeared with mud waited for the hot water to turn on. In every corner of the room was a boy wearing the biggest, most threatening sneer imaginable. No words could describe the sheer contempt and supremacy painted all over those boyish faces. And every one of those ice-cold expressions was directed right at another tiny, helpless little human being, who was either being squeezed in the grasp of white knuckles to breaking point, or tossed to and fro between palms, like a passive mouse being batted around by a victorious cat.
What was most intimidating to the tiny men, though, was the fact that everywhere they looked, a giant soccer player's bare manhood was bobbing freely for all the world to see. Not a single player had anything to be ashamed of, either. The tiny captives seemed to be lost in a forest of embarrassinlgy, gloatingly oversized appendages. Long, deeply ridged and contoured snakes dangled over smooth ball sacs. Thick, brown sausages with meaty hoods and juicy veins bobbed in the air. Big, heavy testicles the size of walnuts swung between muscle-bound thighs, covered in wirey hair. Damp, winking cock heads stared back, rancid with sweat and stale piss, eager for a good, thorough cleaning.. Everywhere the little men looked, these overpowering phallic images made them feel smaller and smaller, sickened them to the stomachs.
"All right, men." Ty announced as the first hiss of steamy water issued forth from the showers. "We played a good game, now it's time to scrub ourselves down. And as our inferiors," Ty spat the word at the violently quivering man in his fist. "..these little punks are going to get a nice, close look at what real men look like.. Boys, take a look at the puny little runt in your hand. He's your new washcloth."
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