I set up my camera on a high ledge that overlooked the stream and its surrounding banks and started recording. It was a beautiful day in late March, and I still had the better part of an hour before the sunset. All day I had been hiking along a trail around the park looking for scenic spots to shoot. I was putting together a showcase to use as part of my resume for a documentary job I was applying to. If they rejected me, I could at least use the footage for a project in one of my film classes.

A large tree branch floated downstream and got caught on a rock in the center of the water. Dirty plastic bags were hanging off it, and it was ruining my shot. I waited for a few minutes, hoping that it would dislodge itself, but it stayed firmly stuck. I walked down the bank carefully, leaving my camera and my bag with a few other lenses behind. When I neared the water, I took off my shoes and socks and rolled up the bottoms of my pants up to my knees. I waded out into the cold water, but it was up to my pants after just a few steps, getting them wet. I came back to shore, and since nobody else was around, I stripped my pants off along with my jacket, watch, shirt, and briefs, piling them on top of my shoes. I would edit this footage out later.

I swam to the branch quickly, hoping to get it unstuck and get back to my clothes before anyone came along the trail and saw me. When I got to the rock and tugged on the branch, it didn’t budge. I stood on top of the rock to get more leverage and pulled again, but it wasn’t enough. I stepped on top of the branch and pulled it back, snapping it. Once broken, the rest of the branch easily dislodged from the rock and floated downstream.

I saw a woman jogging along the trail, coming my way in the distance. I jumped back into the water to hide, waiting for her to pass by.

But the water was cold. I could feel my nipples hardening and my dick and balls shriveling up. I used to be able to feel the slimy riverbed under my feet as I bobbed up and down in the water, but they were becoming numb.

A lanky man wearing his hood up walked along the trail, coming the opposite way. They were both close now, and as the woman passed by the man, he tackled her, and she shrieked. She shoved him off and ran towards me, shouting for help.

The adrenaline kicked in, and I swam to shore as fast as I could manage. The man followed after her, but upon seeing me emerge from the water and run towards him, he bolted. It was lucky he did because the stones of the riverbank stabbed into the bottoms of my feet as I ran on them, and I was overcome with pain. There was no way I could have fought him. The woman was already on the phone with the police. I carefully sat on the ground, making sure the same stones didn’t stab into my butt, and I began to pick small jagged rocks out of my feet. I was bleeding from a few of the cuts.

The woman’s phone call ended quickly. She walked over to me and said, “Thank you so much! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.” Her eyes moved from mine and looked over my body. The adrenaline rush began fading, and it hit me that I was still naked. Not only that, but I was soaking wet and shivering.

“It was nothing,” I said with a nervous laugh. I wanted to stand up and look for my clothes, but there were still a few rocks left in my feet that I couldn’t walk on, so I continued picking them out faster than before.

“What’s your name? I’m Brittany,” she said.

“Scott,” I said. She was looking at my crotch and smiling. Normally I’m about 2” soft (not big, I know), but I was freezing, and the water had shrunk me down so that I practically had a flaccid inny, a full bore mangina.

I spotted my pile of clothes upstream. Finally, enough of the rocks were out, so I cautiously stood up. As I did, Brittany hugged me with her whole body, pulling me in tight. I wrapped my arms around her, but I could feel myself poking her stomach. However, I also felt her warm hands on my back and her warm breasts against my chest. “Thank you, Scott,” she said.

I got a boner quick, and it pressed into her. We let go of each other. She looked at me and giggled. I was so embarrassed that I actually felt warm. I turned my back to her and waddled over to my clothes, being careful not to get more rocks stuck in my feet.

Brittany got a call back from the police. “We’re by the big ridge. I’m waving. Yeah, that’s us,” she said. I was still getting dressed as the police met us by the stream. They began questioning us: they asked who we were, about what happened, if either of us knew the man who ran away. When they asked me what I was doing here, I told them that I was here filming.

“Do you think the man can be seen on the footage?” one of the officers asked.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said, but then I realized that I would also be on that footage, butt naked.

“Where’s the camera?” an officer asked. I hesitated to answer, trying to think of a lie to tell. Maybe I didn’t remember where my camera was. “Never mind, I see it,” the officer said. He began walking over to grab it.

“I can grab it,” I said. I don’t know what my plan was, but I had to do something. Maybe I could delete parts of the footage real quick? Or pretend that my camera’s battery had died, and I only thought that I had been filming.

The officer in front of me put his hand on me to stop me from leaving. “No. You stay here. We have more questions yet,” he said.

I saw the officer get to the camera and start watching the footage from atop the ridge before bringing it down to where we were. Then, he called Brittany and me over and played some of the tapes for us. The camera was an expensive 4k camera I rented from the film department at my school, and the detail was incredible.

“Is this the perpetrator?” the officer asked. He pointed to the man who had assaulted Brittany, and not me, although I was in the shot too, dick out and shriveled for the camera. We both nodded. “Do either of you recognize him?” the officer asked. You could barely see the man’s face because his hood covered most of it, and his back was towards the camera most of the time. The officer played a short segment of the video where you could partially see the man’s face over and over again in slow motion. However, all I could focus on was the fact that you could see my tiny, shriveled cock and balls bounce up and down as I ran towards the man. Neither of us knew who he was.

“Alright, well, you two can head home. We’ll be in touch as we find out more information.” The officers began walking back to their car with my camera.

“I need my camera back. It’s a rental,” I said. It was true, but I mostly didn’t want the officer to walk away with a nude video of me.

The officer with the camera continued walking. Finally, the other officer turned to me, “We still need to review and copy the footage. You can pick up your camera at the station in 2 weeks or so,” he said.

“You’re going to make a copy of the footage?” I exclaimed. One of my worst nightmares was coming true.

The officer laughed. “We need it to find this guy. We need a copy of the footage to use in court as evidence if we can locate this guy,” he said.

I didn’t want to say it, but I finally did. “But- but I’m naked in the video! You can see my penis!”

The officer laughed again, along with Brittany. “Maybe you can get the lawyer to blur out your willy if it gets used as evidence. Not that it looks like you even have a willy, so what does it matter?” he said as he left.

The End.