You don't know why they always pick on you, the guys who live in your building. You never give them any trouble when you pass by on your way out the front, where they like to stand in their sweats, either working out or hanging out, but they never let you go without something. Usually it's a just a comment, or blocking your path and making you shuffle around them, eyes down, knowing not to look, not to engage. The comments are always the worst part, for some reason - they always know how to pick away at what makes you most self-conscious... and your body gives them a lot to choose from.

When you were a teen, you never seemed to "man up" like the other boys did, and your face was more noticeable for your fuller lips, softly fluted nose, and thick eyelashes than a strong jaw. Your shoulders stayed narrow and your hips, well, they didn't. It seemed like everything you ate went straight to your ass, and though you tried dieting, it didn't do enough - the wiggle stayed in your walk, and the men by the door sure noticed. As always, they'd laugh at you, but you'd move on - it's fine.

You know you should stop them, stand up for yourself, but they're all a head taller than you and much more build. You're not a toothpick by any stretch, but, well, you've always been more slender than stout. But even with a workout plan, how are you going to take on all of them at once? So you put up with their leering stares, the name calling, the clucking, the occasional ass-grab - if you only could figure out what they wanted, what you could do to make them stop...

It was a rainy day and you were soaked to the bone after a long walk home from your long shift. You stepped through the door and, yep, there they all were, each a beer deep and having a good ol' time of it. The minute you stepped in, dripping and pouting from the storm, one guy spread his legs to block the hallway.

"Hey, you gotta pay the toll."

You looked pleadingly at him. He was so much bigger and stronger, it was all you could think to do. "Man, I've had a long day - can we just skip it?"

The coyote look he gave his friends told you no, no skipping today. "Aw, long day? Just need something to cheer you up. Isn't that right guys?" They all laugh in agreement and you can feel your cheeks burn hot. "You know what always cheers me up? A dance. Dance for the toll little guy."

You stare at him, hoping that he's joking - but as he sits there, legs wide, blocking your only exit, somehow towering over you while sitting down... you know he isn't.