Humbled by A Nerd

All characters are 18+

Trigger: Bullying, mild violence.

Growing up, I had it all. Dad sold private jets to people who had too much money, and in turn, had too much money. Mom was a lady of luxury, living off dad's vast wealth and spending most of her time either lounging by the pool in our eye watering seven bedroom house, or out with her pretentious friends.

I was an only child, which admittedly got a bit boring, but from a very young age I had friends aplenty, probably because I had everything they could ever dream of.

I started working out at eleven-years-old. I think it was boredom, and we had a large gym area out in the yard so the gym became my favourite thing in the world, and remains so to this day. I worked out every single day, sometimes twice. Nobody really cared if it had any negative impact on a boy of my age, but besides some strained muscles, I never seemed to have any problems.

Once puberty finished kicking the shit out of me, I blossomed into a very handsome young man. I don't mean to sound big headed, but it was true. I'd inherited my mom's golden hair, and my dad's bronze skin, and my eyes shone like emeralds. By eighteen, I had achieved the body I had always wanted through gruelling hard work, and I was very happy with it.

I was six foot one, weighing just over two hundred pound of pure, rock hard muscle. I never wanted to look like a body builder, so I kept myself cut lean, but when I tensed, damn I looked good.

High school had been a breeze. Girls loved me, boys loved being around me. Hell, even the teachers seemed fascinated by me, and I rarely got in trouble because of it. Everybody knew my family, so I never encountered a problem that I couldn't fix with either my looks or my name.

I didn't have to go to college. In fact, I nearly didn't bother because I was offered a modelling contract for a pretty well known fashion brand, but my dad ended up insisting and I think that was the first time in my life where I didn't get my own way.

Yes, I was spoiled. I was also hot, charismatic, confident and rich so who cared, right? Student accommodation was certainly not my plan, and so after some convincing from my mom, dad bought me a two bed condo in walking distance to the college. Yes, bought.

Oddly enough, I didn't play sports. The gym was my church, and I was devout, but college was different to high school, and very quickly I realised that I was no longer the most ripped kid in school. I was surrounded by wrestlers, football players, and all manner of sports people who dwarfed me, and I didn't like that at all.

I guess I felt the need to prove myself, and as much as I continued to hit the gym twice a day, my body was no longer as impressive as it was to a bunch of spotty faced teenagers, now that every second person had a six pack. Nobody knew me either, so my dad's wealth held no weight, and suddenly I was just like everyone else.

Regrettably, I did what many muscle headed, insecure young men do, and I turned into an asshole. I'd always been a witty guy, and what better way to become popular than to shit on the nerds, right? One such nerd was a guy whose name I didn't even know until months after I began targeting him.

I don't know why I targeted him. I guess he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or as it transpired, I was.

"Look at this skinny motherfucker" I scoffed to the few guys I'd become friendly with.

He was short, skinny and had a thick mop of black hair that didn't sit right on his head. Below his fringe, sat a pair of thin-rimmed glasses that earned him the nickname Potter almost instantly. He looked as though his mom had dressed him, with his shirt tucked into his pants, and his large backpack across both shoulders.

"What's the matter, Potter?" I smirked, doing my best Draco Malfoy impression and blowing spit into his face with the emphasis.

He looked no older than me, perhaps a year younger, but it turned out that he'd just gone eighteen, and when I put my large frame in his path, he simply looked to the floor and kept quiet.

The guys cracked up behind me as I studied him to figure out which parts of him would become the butt of all my jokes.

"Didn't your parents feed you growing up?" I asked him with a smug grin, flexing my biceps.

Potter stayed silent.

"I asked you a question, faggot" I pressed, and he tried to skip around me so I shoved him backwards and I guess the weight of his bad sent him onto the ground.

"Please let me up, Lord Dwayne" I said in a whiny voice, and my buddies were now in hysterics, "say it, bitch".

Potter sighed, but didn't seem overly upset. Perhaps he was used to it.

"Please let me up, Lord Dwayne" he said blankly, and I did, but that was only the beginning.

Looking back, I ask myself if I regret what happened with Potter. I guess I do to an extent, but part of me believes that bullying that kid was the best thing I've ever done.

It continued for months, and admittedly it got pretty bad. I had everyone in on it, and the poor guy couldn't walk from one side of campus to the other without being jeered, teased or sometimes even physically tormented. Nobody ever beat him up or anything, but I guess it was enough to tip him over the edge.

Like most moron bullies, I rarely struck unless I had an audience to back me up, but one summer afternoon, I found Potter walking out of the rear exit, likely in an attempt to avoid ridicule. I was alone, and so was he, but I couldn't turn down this perfect opportunity.

"Hey Potter!" I called, running up behind him, and I could see his shoulders drop.

I squeezed the back of his neck with my powerful hand and he squirmed in my grasp. God, he was skinny.

"I was thinking, faggot" I smirked, forcing him to walk off path and toward the empty football pitches, "from now on I think you should be a bit more grateful that we haven't kicked your ass, and suck our dicks instead".

I was joking of course. By that point I had two girlfriends, one in college and the other back home. Neither knew of the others existence of course, but I made it work. I also had no idea if Potter was actually gay, but he seemed kinda girly, so I enjoyed teasing him about it.

"Never mind" I laughed, "you'd probably enjoy that, wouldn't you fag–"

The entire world seemed to spin around me. The sky and the ground switched sides, and everything turned into a blurred mess, and then I hit the floor so hard that the air rushed from my lungs and escaped my mouth in a whiny cry.

It took me a moment to realise what had happened. I was no longer strolling next to Potter with my hand crushing the back of his neck. I was now laid out on the grass, my right arm taut from my body and held in place so tightly that I was sure it would pop from it's socket, and a cold, hard shoe was pressed firmly against my throat. Potter stared down at me with a look of seething hatred.

"Get the fuck off me, faggot!" I choked, my face becoming beet red and my pride becoming mortally wounded, but Potter didn't move.

"Another word" he snarled, "and I'll break your arm".

I tried to yank it away, but the nerd was correct. Whatever way he held me, the slightest move burned through my shoulder like red hot blades.

"My name is Alex" he told me calmly, "but you can call me Sir"