Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction for entertainment only. Any resemblances to real people, places and events (past, present or future) is unintentional. It contains graphic sexual content which the author does not endorse. Practice sex safely and legally.
Magnificently Mortifying Modelling Maladies Chapter 03: Last Day of Term Part Two, Martin's Unfair Exhibition
DECEMBER 2023 (cont.)
THE DOOR
Martin had scrubbed the cum off his face and by god it was gross.
The boys had ejaculated all over him – his shirt was polka dotted with splashes of teenage cum and so was his face, neck and hair. Martin had dashed to the nearest toilet to look at himself. When he'd looked at his face in the mirror, he saw it was caked with the ejaculate of countless boys. It was in his eyebrows and in the corner of his eyes, on his ears and all over his nose and cheeks, his lips and his chin.
Martin prodded some of the gooey lumps of sludge. A feeling of disgust washed over him and yet, he had enjoyed being humiliated again. He had no sexual interest in the boys but the things they had made him do and the way his face now looked were exciting. He knew he shouldn't like it, but being humiliated was exciting.
Martin washed his face multiple times until the scum washed down the sink. The collar of his shirt was damp by the end but since his shirt was splashed all over with spunk, that didn't really matter.
Martin had brought his jacket with him, hoping it would hide most of the evidence of his morning activity. The jacket mated his trousers and was an expensive suit; perhaps not expensive by the standards of the rich kids, but to him it had been a pricey investment. That investment was now being used to hide the fact that twenty six teenagers had just shot ball juice all over him.
Martin spent the rest of his morning hiding as best he could, lesson planning and marking so he wouldn't have to take work home over the holidays.
The classes after the morning break were largely ceremonial since the students took turns going to the Art Fair; while Martin heard excitement in the corridor, he ate his lunch alone in his classroom to avoid students and peers. Martin was happily excused from chaperone duties at the Art Fair and the end of term party.
Once Martin was all finished up for the year – no more classes, lesson plans or marking –he decided to take a look at the Art Fair. He'd only heard good things about it all week; the excitement of Mr Wainwright getting ready to share the endeavours of his students had been almost euphoric. Martin was walking down the corridor when a pack of students passed him, chatting excitedly. That excitement became something else when they saw him though.
They burst out laughing.
Martin felt that familiar drop in his stomach.
"Hi sir."
"Nearly didn't see you there."
They giggled and pushed each other along and Martin wondered what on earth was going on. He hoped the Year 12's hadn't told them about the naked class. Or was it his shirt and tie which still had blobby stains on them that had set them off?
"Hello Mr Williams," said a Morgan who was standing at the corner of the Art corridor.
"Hello, Morgan," Martin replied.
The first time they'd met was when Martin had been mistaken for a model and modelled naked for the Year 13 Art students of which Morgan was one.
"What's that smell?" Morgan asked.
Morgan sniffed the air and then leaned forward, sniffing Martin before offering his teacher a look of disgust. The teacher hadn't really thought about the smell of the two dozen loads of cum on his clothes. He must have been nose blind to miss it.
"Seriously, what the fuck is that smell?" Morgan demanded.
Martin hoped to assert his authority as a teacher and so offered a look of disapproval.
"Morgan, you shouldn't swear," Martin admonished.
"You smell like a glory hole, Mr Williams," Morgan responded. "Have you got something on your shirt?"
Martin blushed furiously and didn't know what to say. Morgan stepped closer and without asking, unbuttoned Martin's jacket to get a closer look at the shirt underneath. Morgan leaned so close; his nose nearly touched Martin's nipple. He inhaled deeply and then reeled back.
"Oh my god!" Morgan exclaimed.
"Are you going to the Art Fair?" Martin asked politely to change the subject.
"You absolutely stink!" Morgan persisted. "Your shirt is a disgrace, sir."
"I've heard the exhibition is very good," Martin persisted.
"I've been in already. The exhibition..." Morgan replied with a wicked grin. "Is great. There's a big crowd all day."
Martin nodded mutely and then looked down the hallway. The double doors into the length of the Art corridor were closed (they were almost always open except when the fire alarm went off when they closed automatically). Martin could hear the activity of the Art Fair beyond the door and the exhibition must have been taking up every room in the department.
However, neither the doors nor the noise were the most striking thing. The most striking thing was attached to the door; a pencil sketch about one metre (3 foot 3 inches) tall that was attached to one of the doors. The sketch was of a man whose face was indiscernible. However, Martin knew who it was because the man was totally naked and his penis was nearly as small as his nipples.
"Oh fuck!" Martin said with a sinking feeling.
"You should go inside," Morgan said vaguely from behind him. "Mr Wainwright has been working on something very special for months and he wants you to see it."
Martin could barely imagine what it might be.
Whatever Martin imagined; it was worse.
AND THEN IT GOT WORSE
Martin pushed the doors open and the noise level jumped. The students were chatting and laughing excitedly but when they saw him they went quiet. The din becoming silence spread like an echo gradually fading out.
He could see open mouthed expressions from those closest to him. They looked like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't. They were all looking at him guiltily and then someone sniggered; with the spell broken, most looked away – unable to look him in the eye.
When Martin looked he saw there were pictures all along the wall of the corridor. The pictures were mostly sketches of him but none were as large scale as the one on the door to the Art Fair. In these too Martin's face was either not featured or was unrecognisable; however, Martin recognised them from the Year 13 Art class. Although none of them immediately indicated who the model was, Martin still blushed with humiliation. He hoped the embarrassment of the boys as he entered was due to them looking at close-up drawings of penis's and naked men.
Martin was not the only thing depicted as he made his way along the corridor - the close-up drawings of a man's penis were interspersed with still-life's of fruit and flowers. There were really quite impressive attempts at cubism and impressionism. The images lined both walls of the corridor and Martin peeked his head into the first room to find easels with yet more works displayed.
Martin hoped the exhibition of his mortifying malady would be over.
But it got worse.
Not only did the room feature more pictures of him, it had pictures of someone else (maybe more than one someone else) too.
There were so many pictures of Martin and his tiny little wiener; close-ups of his face or body or diminutive penis all featured in sketches throughout the room. None of the pictures so far included both his face and his genitals but it was implicit that he had been the model for both. It must have been the work of weeks or months from every boy who had been in the class.
To make it worse, Martin's face was the only one rendered in any of the images and knowing he had a small penis meant he made the association. However, his penis was not the only one that had been sketched. Martin counted six sketches of a lean and athletic abdomen, pubic hair and a thick, foreskin-covered penis at least twice the size of his own.
If the students attending the art fair thought he was the naked model, maybe they would think he had the large dick?
The students around him laughed immaturely at all the drawings. The boys were of the age where a naked penis was amusing whether it was large or small. There was only five Year 11 boys in the room and they looked embarrassed when they spotted the teacher but also sniggered when they recognised his face in association with the penises.
Martin felt sexual inadequacy and he moved silently out of the room, leaving the teens to their sniggering. Pictures of his face! Pictures of his penis! It was terrible.
But it got worse!
The sketches along the wall between the first room in the Art Fair and the next featured the Year 13 boys from the art class he had modelled in. Most were headshots with the collars of their school uniforms present. Martin glanced at the signatures and saw the renderings were a combination of portraits of each other and self-portraits. Alfred and Morgan and the others were talented artists.
Martin stepped into the next room of the Art Fair where the drawings caused Martin to let out a defeated sigh of humiliation.
His face, body and penis were all in sight.
Credit where it was due, the depiction was excellent.
However, it was clearly pictures of him bare naked.
"Did you actually model for these, sir?"
"Why did they draw your dick so small, Mr Williams?"
"Are you..."
The boy wiggled his pinkie.
The three boys looked like they were in Year 10. Martin was being laughed at by fourteen year olds. The boys sniggered and ran off – blushing but worried they'd get in trouble for being disrespectful. Having not answered, Martin hoped that the boys would think it was a just mean trick. Hopefully the many, many, many... many, many, many sketches and paintings of him would be viewed as artistic licence. A mean joke about the new teacher and the Year 13 boys pretending he had a tiny penis.
Students could be persuaded of that, right?
They had no way to know it was real.
It was as Martin turned to leave the room that he noticed a group of four sketches in the corner of the room next to the door. In them lay Morgan and he was naked. The seventeen year old was naked. The sketches bore his own signature but the teenager had offered himself up in a variety of poses that exposed his pits, his nipples, his perineum, his thighs and most importantly: his face, his balls and his penis.
Morgan's flaccid penis flopped across his hip, clearly soft and clearly not small. Martin didn't like to think about boys penises but it must have been three or four inches in its limp state. The confident and brazen self-portraits of the teenager were a strategically counterpoint to Martin's adult inadequacy.
As Martin was leaving the room, a group of four Year 13's, peers of Morgan's, entered the room. They looked at Martin and smiled politely before one of them wrinkled their noses.
"What the fuck is that smell?"
Martin had quite forgotten he was covered in a classroom load of spunk.
"Is that you, sir?"
"Your shirt is a mess, Mr Williams."
"This is a respectable school, sir. You should go around with a filthy shirt and smelling like a brothel."
Martin opened his mouth to reply, to admonish them for being so rude, but one of them had spotted Morgan.
"Look at this," he laughed.
"Have you looked at the naked pictures of Morgan, sir?"
"We've seen him in the showers, Mr Williams. He's not exaggerating."
"Should you be looking at pictures of naked boys, sir?"
"I wasn't. I didn't," Martin liked.
"Oh my fucking god! Are these you?"
Martin whirled around at the sound of the voice of one of the boys who had now noticed the images of his teacher.
"Are all the tiny dick pics of you, sir?"
Martin darted out of the room before he had to lie again. He was a bad liar. They wouldn't believe him anyway because it was funnier to imagine their teacher had a small dick. Indeed, Marin could hear their laughter chasing him into the corridor.
As Martin stepped out of the room, otherwise known as his worst nightmare, he hoped the next room would have a nice avant garde sketch of the school or something.
But it got worse!
When Martin stepped into the next room, all hopes that he would keep his dignity or anonymity were erased.
Facing him was an absolutely stunning work of art. It was a magnificent and meticulous artwork rendered on the biggest canvas Martin had ever seen in real life. The depiction of Martin's humiliating nakedness was more or less 1:1 scale.
There was the sound of hysterical laughter from the reverse side of the painting. The sniggering and giggling of teenage boys came from the other side of the painting. They were laughing so hard they could barely breath.
Since they hadn't seen him yet, Martin continued to examine the painting of him.
Martin's right arm was at his side, the hand tucked just behind his buttock. His left arm was raised behind his head and in the concave of his armpit there was no visible hair. Indeed, the artist had neglected hair anywhere on his body except on top of his head.
Martin's own face peered at him from the canvas.
His legs looked strong and lean which was nice.
But oh no! Martin was avoiding the inevitable shame.
His penis was small. So small. So small even Martin could hardly believe it. Beneath his tiny willy were two smooth testicles. There was a paradoxical consolation in the realism of the painting; it captured his great figure and physique but exposed his total inadequacy as a man. In the corner, the painting was signed: M/ Wainwright.
Bastard!
"This can't be real."
"It fucking is. Look at it."
"It can't be fake."
"My middle finger is bigger than his boner."
"He's hard!? Fuck, I thought he was soft. That's hilarious."
The boys on the other side of the canvas had finally calmed down but now they had out mobile phones to take pictures of whatever was on the other side. Martin let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, so a face appeared from the other side and his eyes bulged.
"Fuck, he's here," said the student.
"Put your phones away."
"One more picture."
The other boys looked around too and there was a mixture of blushing and giggles of embarrassment for the poor teacher.
"Sorry, sir. We didn't see you."
"We didn't mean to make fun. It's a great picture."
Martin didn't know what to say so the boys scurried off, sliding past Martin like his small penis was contagious.
"What's that smell?" one of them said as he reached the door.
"It smells like your wank sock," came a reply.
Once again, Martin was left alone with the mortifying consequences of his modelling three months ago. It was as if something kept capturing people's attention but what could be more attention grabbing than the disasters he had already encountered? Martin looked at the beautifully horrific painting. But what was on the other side? What had the students been looking at? It couldn't be worse than the painting.
But it got worse!
Martin walked around to see the other side and realised that he had to stop thinking it couldn't get worse. It could always get worse.
Martin didn't even know photographs could be printed this big!
The photographic paper on the other side was not quite the same scale as Mr Wainwright's painting. However, the phot was a metre and a half tall with a key in the bottom indicating it was 75% scale. The photo itself was the one taken when Martin had got hard while modelling; it was the head to toe photo Morgan had taken. The one Martin had asked the Sixth Former to take.
"Yes, you can measure me... You can measure my erection."
Martin standing facing the camera with both hands beside his bare-naked body. Every inch of his appearance was on show: his feet, thighs, abdomen, chest, neck and face all captured in the still image.
Worst of all, his tiny little penis was being measured. The photo was so detailed that you could see the tally marks on the ruler – 8cm/ 3.2 inches. The boys who had just left the room had taken pictures of this massive fucking photo.
He was a teacher at this school! How many of the boys had seen this?
Martin looked at the 75% scale and calculated in his head how small his miniscule boner was in the photo: approximately 6cm or 2.4 inches.
Everyone who saw the photo (so, probably every student and teacher in the school) would know he had a micropenis!
Martin was finally destitute. He hung his head as he turned away and left the classroom. He turned and saw students talking excitedly in the corridors. Their jubilance was palpable and he knew it wasn't excitement for the Christmas holidays fuelling it.
Martin couldn't look them in the eyes. He was passing boys aged fourteen to eighteen who had now seen their English teacher not only naked but measured and he didn't really measure up. Martin was nearly at the end of the corridor where Morgan was waiting by the door.
"You missed the last room, Mr Williams," Morgan said.
Martin looked at him heartbroken.
"You don't want to miss any of the exhibition, do you? Everyone worked so hard to contribute to the Art Fair," Morgan said innocently.
Martin turned around and the boys in their uniform had lingered.
"Go on, sir. Take a look," Morgan encouraged. "By the way, is that cum on your shirt? We can smell it all around the exhibition."
Morgan emphasised the word exhibition just to rub in Martin's total and complete exposure. Martin should have just left but he turned back, walking past the mocking students in the corridor, to get to the last room. Whatever was there, it couldn't be worse than the massive portrait or the photograph.
Well, he had to fucking think it, didn't he.
EXHIBITION
When Martin entered the room he saw about at least fifty boys of various ages inside and also Mr Wainwright. Mr Wainwright and smiled as Martin entered the room. He then started clapping and the boys joined in.
When the applause died down, Mr Wainwright spoke for the whole class to hear.
"I think we can all agree that without Mr Williams, this year's Art Fair wouldn't have been what it was," Mr Wainwright said.
There was emphatic agreement with this statement.
"When Mr Williams was mistaken for a model three months ago, I could not have predicted how engaged Year 13 would become with the subject matter," Mr Wainwright continued. "Most of them have opted to submit pictures of Mr Williams to the exam board."
The fuck!?
While Martin was silent, there was general approvement with this escalation of Martin's humiliation.
"Anyway, we're all delighted you're here, Martin," Mr Wainwright said. "I was just about to start again,"
Start what, Martin wondered? Probably a guided tour of the exhibition in obsessive detail with even more humiliating commentary.
"Does anyone have any questions for Mr Williams?" Mr Wainwright asked.
The fifty or so students in the room were substantially Sixth Formers – Upper Sixth (Year 13) and Lower Sixth (Year 12) lads aged between sixteen and eighteen years old. Perhaps a third of the students were in Years 9-11 (aged between thirteen and sixteen).
A Year 10 boy put up his hand but didn't wait to be prompted to ask his question.
"Is it a prosthetic?"
"What?" Martin asked.
"Your dick," he said as if it was obvious (which it was). "Is it a prosthetic?"
"No," Martin admitted.
"Your dick is really only three inches?" asked a Year 9 student.
The horrified tone of the fourteen year old made Martin cringe.
"Yes," Martin confessed to the room.
Gasps, sniggers and whispers filtered through the room.
"Morgan and a few other lads have drawn nudes of themselves or each other..." started a Year 13 lad.
Martin had only seen Morgan's nude self portraits and he had no interest in seeing the others; however, he was embarrassed to think that the naked sketches of a seventeen or eighteen year old was about to be compared to a man.
"...is it embarrassing to have every student and teacher in the school compare your genitals to teenagers?" the lad concluded.
"Yes," Martin mumbled.
Mr Wainwright had heard enough and was excited to get on.
"Why don't you come closer, Mr Williams?" Mr Wainwright encouraged.
A path cleared for Martin as he walked from the back of the room to the teachers desk at the front. Martin had been so distracted by number of boys in the room and by Mr Wainwright's ominous presence that he had failed to notice there were no sketches or paintings of him or anything else in the room. No sculptures either. What kind of exhibition had nothing to exhibit? There was however a whiteboard and dropping from the ceiling a digital projector. The Art class was big enough to accommodate a screen that was eight metres across and five metres high.
When Martin came to a stop, Mr Wainwright went to a laptop beside the screen.
Oh no!
Of god no!
He wouldn't!
"We can all thank Morgan Verge, Year 13, for having the foresight to understand that this demonstration was ideal for submission as performance art," Mr Wainwright said.
Martin appeared on the screen that might was well have been a cinema screen given the meticulous, 4K Ultra HD quality of the projection. Martin was totally naked in the centre of the frame and his eyes were closed. He could be seen from bare feet to the top of his head so no detail was missing. The picture was frozen and Mr Wainwright had fun letting the class see the fully exposed teacher; the static image of Martin's total nudity, face and body with an embarrassingly tiny hard-on remained on screen for an eternity before Mr Wainwright pressed play.
Mr Wainwright wanted everyone to see the pathetic peen before Martin took a hold of it.
Martin gripped his erect penis between his thumb and index finger and started stroking. The head of his dick was moist and the audio picked up of the soggy slap of his foreskin as it passed back and forth over the head of his dick.
Martin wriggled his toes which were hot and sweaty.
The tall, masculine, adult man was incredibly sexy which was why the short shaft was so hilarious. The plump little three inches was solid as he rubbed it out. Martin's eyes remained closed as he masturbated, precum leaking shiny goo from the small slit.
The class watching Martin's exhibition were mesmerised by watching a teacher masturbate.
Some of them were watching it for the third or fourth time.
The teenagers were utterly fascinated with watching their teacher pleasure himself. With or without such a diminutive penis, that would have been mesmerising.
Martin saw himself reach up with his free hand and circled his nipple with a finger. He didn't even remember doing that. On screen, he bit his lip as the nipple play clearly excited him. When Martin pinched his left nipple, he let out a little moan that caused giggles from the class.
The giggles had happened at the time and with everyone watching the `performance art' on screen laughing too, it was like surround sound. The class gasped as they watched Martin open his eyes.
Martin's eyes widened as he looked straight into the camera.
"Are you recording?" Martin asked.
"Yea," came Morgan's voice out of shot.
There were giggles around Martin so some of the dialogue from the others who had been there was almost lost.
"Holy shit, really?"
"Ha, that's hilarious."
"Send it to me after class."
"I'm filming too. The side view is even funnier."
Martin hadn't even stopped jerking off when he discovered the teenagers recording him. The naked man simply continued stoking his dinky dick.
"Are we allowed to film him?"
"Sure, it's art."
Mr Wainwright's distinctive voice was heard in the audio.
"You should really have asked Martin first. You don't mind, do you Mr Williams?"
Everyone watching the display of onanism could tell he was close and the interest in seeing the big moment was almost grotesque.
"No, I don't mind if you film me," Martin said onscreen.
"Even if you..." Mr Wainwright's voice asked offscreen.
Martin remembered this was the moment he thought about the consequences. He'd asked himself what would happen when they found out he was a teacher? He never imagined the answer was to tell everyone in school and show them the evidence.
"I don't mind if... if you film me... masturbating... and... c-cumming..." Martin heard himself say.
The class laughed at the ecstasy-filled voice that was on the verge of orgasm.
That moment came a second later. Watching himself cumming was mortifying enough when a class of a dozen artists had watched him but it was even worse with fifty schoolboys beside him watching it too. Martin's eyes open and looking straight into the camera. The tall, attractive, naked and masturbating man had no idea how many people would watch this moment.
Another offscreen interjection from Mr Wainwright came just in time.
"Do not ejaculate on my floor, Martin!"
What Martin lacked in size he made up for in the volume of his ejaculation. Martin gasped, whined and moaned as he shot his load. The class watched as the teacher aimed his dicklette up just as he looked down into the eye of his hard little penis. The spunk launched hot and hard into his face.
There was a grossed out groan from some of the boys watching in the room as cum splashed between Martin's eyes. More spunk launched up his body and into his neckline and bellybutton.
Martin looked into Morgan's camera again with an expression of shock and surprise – even he hadn't expected such a massive deluge. Cum dripped off Martin's nose like snot and then a big blob dropped from his chin. It was an impressive load but the remarkable volume couldn't make up for Martin's inadequate endowment.
"That was fucking awesome," said Morgan.
The video ended.
The sudden silence of the video was compounded by the silence in the Art Fair.
"Well, what did everyone think?" Mr Wainwright prompted.
There was an explosion of sound again as the audience clapped and cheered. Martin risked looking around and saw a few boys had been making bootleg copies of the video on their own phone. Mr Wainwright knew Martin liked to be humiliated and enjoyed facilitating that. Martin didn't see Mr Wainwright give a tiny nod to a Year 11 student near the front.
"I don't believe it," the fifteen year old said.
Martin looked at the boy and for a moment, hope sprang in his heart.
"You don't believe what?" his friend asked.
"That's not real," the teenager insisted. "The pictures are just an artist's interpretation. Clearly the Year 13 Art class were having a laugh."
Matin almost smiled – they didn't believe he was really that tiny.
"What about the video?" someone else asked him.
"Deep fake. Not real," the fifteen year old said confidently. "Fake! News!"
"I will not have my artist integrity or abilities called into question," Mr Wainwright said hotly. "True art can involve exaggeration or understatement, of course. But this exercise was about realistically capturing a subject."
"I'm not saying the art isn't good..." the boy backtracked.
"Martin, these students do not think our Year 13's are capable of such faithful rendering of a model," Mr Wainwright addressed Martin in an affronted tone.
"Oh no..." Martin voiced insincerely.
Inside, he was delighted by the scepticism of the congregated students.
"So, you'll have to show them," Mr Wainwright said.
"What?" Martin replied.
"Show them. Show everyone here that Year 13 weren't understating reality," Mr Wainwright.
Martin had to hand it to the man; that was one hell of a way of telling him to get naked and show fifty teenager's his miniscule manhood.
"Oh I don't think..." Martin tried to think of a rebuttal. "I don't think anyone wants to see that?"
"Do you want to see it?" Mr Wainwright asked the students.
There was a very excited chorus of "yes" because of course the schoolboys wanted to see their teacher naked even if (or maybe especially if) that teacher had a tiny penis.
"You see?" Mr Wainwright asserted. "The students are willing to be proven incorrect. They're willing to learn from their error."
Fuck!
Martin pulled his shoes off first, stooping to remove them and then his socks. Mr Wainwright smirked – he had only expected Martin to pull his trousers and underwear down but it looked like the man was going to strip naked.
Martin then shrugged his jacket off.
"What's on your shirt, sir?" asked a voice from the back of the room.
Marting looked up to see Monty wearing a mocking expression.
"It looks like jizz," laughed someone closer to the front of the room.
"It smells like spunk too," his friend chuckled.
Martin proceeded to unbutton and remove the offending shirt. This resulted in whoops from the classroom who, until now, had remained silent as if waiting with baited breath and fearing they might break the spell that was causing their teacher to undress in front of them.
Martin's heart was racing. In a moment he would be exposed to the cruel, mocking and derisory gazes of posh teenage boys. With his shirt removed and discarded, Martin unbuttoned his trousers and opened them. The students were impressed by Martin's physique, many of them wearing appreciative looks which were quickly displaced as Mr Wainwright muted the audio and restarted the video of the masturbating teacher.
Martin was unaware of this as he pushed his trousers down. The students tittered at Martin's exposed chest and his legs - his legs being almost hairless. Martin's pubes peeked above his briefs as he stepped out of the trousers and prepared for the final, irrevocable embarrassment.
Martin just wanted it over with so he hooked his thumbs into the briefs and pushed them down to the floor. When Martin stepped out of the briefs, he was completely exposed to the students of the school.
SMALLER THAN A BOY
"Oh my god, Mr Williams," Monty guffawed as he pushed to the front of the room.
"I take back my scepticism," said the Year 11 boy who had started it all.
Martin was utterly humiliated as the fifty students looked at his measly 3cm (1.2 inch) flaccid penis. It was almost hidden inside his pubes and its diminutive size was emphasised by full balls inside a tight scrotum. The tightness of his ball sac caused his little penis to stick out horizontally.
"You really do have a tiny, little peen," Monty said. "Is this the smallest prick all of you have ever seen?"
The room filled with agreement.
"Now, Monty! Do not be so rude. It takes confidence to model," Mr Wainwright admonished. "Especially if you're also a teacher and even more especially if you are not well endowed."
Mr Wainwright could never resist putting the boot in.
"Not well endowed?" Monty scoffed as he looked at the naked man. "My Adam's apple is bigger than his dick."
Monty then turned his attention to the students in the room, picking a boy near the front.
"You!" Monty pointed at a cute, skinny blond boy. "Come here. How old are you?"
The boy sheepishly made his way forward.
"Fourteen," the boy replied meekly.
"Stand next to him and pull your pants down," Monty demanded.
St. Mervyn Poshford's school was an institution attended exclusively by the wealthy; many were sons of politicians, lords or businessmen but even among the influential, Monty Verge exerted power. The shy boy didn't dare refuse.
The skinny boy instead found himself standing next to Mr Williams as he untucked his school shirt and opening his trousers. He pushed them and his underpants down to his knees in one swoop and lifted his shirt to expose his boyish penis.
The Year 10 boy was embarrassed but Martin was mortified. The fourteen year old had very short pubes and an almost hairless scrotum but his flaccid penis was 6.5cm (2.6 inches) long – double the size of the man beside him. He felt a little swell of pride at that.
"Fuck, I' only fourteen and I'm bigger than you," he said.
The whole class laughed and when the boys pulled his clothes back up, he was greeted by adulation and congratulations.
"I think we can all agree there was no under exaggeration in the artwork of Year 13," Mr Wainwright reminded them why Martin had been asked to strip in the first place.
"That was sick, sir," said one boy but he meant "sick" in the contemporary sense that it was good.
"Can't believe you let them film you doing that, sir," said another who nodded to the screen.
Martin turned to see the moment he came and realised it had been on repeat the whole time, compounding his humiliation.
"I think we should all thank Mr Williams for making this such a special project," Mr Wainwright enthused.
There were nods, thanks from around the room but as the crowd also started to dissipate, their interest in the shameful exposure of their teacher, Mr Wainwright had one more thing to say.
"Given the interest in the performance on screen, I've made it available to download from the school cloud," Mr Wainwright announced. "You can access it, for free of course, from the Art Department portal."
As Martin got dressed he thought about how degrading it was that not only had the schoolboys seen their teacher naked, not only did they know he has a micropenis, not only had they seen him masturbating and ejaculating, but they could also watch that moment over and over again. For free. This kind of humiliation could be sold on OnlyFans but Martin's embarrassment wouldn't even earn him money.
CHANGES
After turning off he jerk off film, Mr Wainwright approached Martin who was finishing getting dressed.
"Did you enjoy that?" Mr Wainwright asked.
"How did you get away with organising this?" Martin hissed.
"I asked," Mr Wainwright said rather simply. "Morgan Verge has a powerful father who helped smooth things over. Plus, we sold almost every picture of you. The school has fund raised off your naked sketches and photos."
"Oh god," Martin said.
"We could have made a fortune selling the video," Mr Wainwright admitted. "But giving it away for free seemed much more fun. I'm surprised you didn't get hard."
"Why?" Martin asked.
"Because you love embarrassment and teenage boys," Mr Wainwright laughed at him.
"No," Martin replied. "I don't like teenage boys."
Of all the things to be angry about, it wasn't the exposure, the exhibition of the mortification.
"I am not turned on boy schoolboys," Martin said hotly. "I'm asexual, ok?"
Martin seldom if ever told people because being asexual was itself more than just not being attracted to people. You could be asexual and masturbate or be turned on by things... like humiliation.
"I see," Mr Wainwright replied and he seemed genuinely contrite for a moment.
"I can't believe a fourteen year old has a bigger willy than me," Martin complained.
Mr Wainwright smirked because even if the teenager had an equally tiny cock, it would still have mortified Martin. Mortifying two for the price of one was a fun idea though...
"With the exams coming up, the boys kept some pictures for their Art portfolios," Mr Wainwright said as if it helped.
"I'll never live this down," Martin complained.
"You will. Of course you will," Mr Wainwright. "You have a tiny dick, it's not the end of the world."
"That fourteen-year-old has a bigger dick than me!" Martin hissed and nodded towards the kid.
Mr Wainwright's thoughts were tugged back to thar fun idea he had. He wondered how he could make it happen. Mr Wainwright thought of small but enthusiastic, and most importantly naïve, model who he'd love to engage in more ambitious modelling. Mr Wainwright wondered if he could combine his two projects. Putting that idea aside...
"You should get changed," Mr Wainwright said. "You stink and your clothes are covered in cum."
Martin looked shocked at the man whose smile suggested he knew quite a bit about what had happened in the morning class.
"I don't have anything to change into..." Martin started to say (besides, he'd only just put his clothes back on).
"Nonsense. You can't go home like that," Mr Wainwright said reasonably. "I told Montgomery to leave you a change of clothes in your classroom."
"Oh... thanks..." Martin replied.
Returning to his class, he found a neatly folded pile of clothes on his desk.
On top of a pair of running shoes was a navy blue item and on top of that a white item.
Martin closed his classroom door and kicked off his shoes. His socks were clammy from the stressful day so he took them off too. Martin pulled off his tie and unfastened the buttons of his shirt, letting it hang open. It wasn't so long ago that he had done this striptease in front of an audience but he tried not to think about all the stories those teenagers would tell. Martin opened his trousers and pushed them and his underpants to the ground.
Once he had stepped out of them, Martin took off his cum-stained shirt. It was almost rigidly starchy now that the cum had dried. Nude and barefoot, Martin walked around his desk and grabbed a bag to stuff all his clothes into. Once they were tidied away, he went back to the front of his desk for the clothes Monty had left for him.
Then his classroom door opened.
Instinctively, Martin clamped his hands over his genitals as his eyes widened in shock.
"Mr Williams should still be..." the Head Master stopped midsentence.
The Head Master was accompanied by Mr Wainwright, Morgan and Monty Verge and a man Martin did not know. However, he had a strong resemblance to the two teenagers. Their dad?
"Oh dear god," the Head Master said.
"I'm sorry... sorry... I was just getting changed," Martin explained.
He was so humiliated.
Not again! He couldn't be exposed to strangers again!
"It's quite alright, Mr Williams," said the silvery tongued and smug man. "My sons have told me all about you. I took a look around the Art Fair and even heard about the Exhibition."
Martin blushed deeply. Monty must have told his dad.
"Mr Veron Verge," the man said and he strode into the room and offered Martin his hand to shake.
Which meant Martin would have to uncover.
Defeatedly, Martin stopped covering up and took the man's hand. He knew it was pointless to cover with one hand – which because of his size was totally possible – because he would be manipulated into uncovering. Revealing himself was a small victory of self-determination.
Mr Verge shook Martin's hand and looked at the exposed penis.
"Oh! It looks even smaller in real life than it did in the photos or the video," Mr Verge said.
Martin turned red with embarrassment.
"No offense," Mr Verge added in the tone of a man who apologised insincerely quite a lot.
"It's fine," Martin mumbled.
Since Mr Verge was still shaking his hand, the boys and Mr Wainwright had been able to approach.
"Small is being generous," Monty said. "You nearly need a microscope to see that thing."
"It's so small that it's technically a micropenis, did you know that?" Morgan asked his dad.
"Oh really?" Mr Verge replied interestedly.
He dropped Martin's hand like it was lead.
"I trust you only usually expose yourself to teenage boys when your modelling?" Mr Verge asked as he removed a tube of hand cleanser from his pocket to remove the contamination of Martin's touch.
"What?" Martin covered up again. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"I'm sure it was perfectly innocent, Mr Verge," Mr Wainwright said. "Martin needed a change of clothes to go home in. He really is a wonderful teacher and a marvellous model."
"Hmm," Mr Verge said unimpressed. "Well, I suppose I agree. After all, I bought your painting."
The massive oil painting had been bought by Morgan and Monty's dad?
"I appreciate that," Mr Wainwright replied.
"You are a man of many talents, Marcus," Mr Verge said to Mr Wainwright. "You could have saved yourself time by sticking to photography."
"Maybe next time," Mr Wainwright smirked.
Mr Verge smirked too and so did his sons.
Gits!
The Head Master cleared his throat.
"Right, well, perhaps we could move on?" the Head Master said.
Mr Verge turned on his heel dismissively and walked out, followed politely by the Head Master who didn't want to say anything to Martin since one of the schools benefactors seemed unoffended.
Mr Wainwright, Morgan and Monty lingered to smirk and snigger at him.
"We couldn't have timed that better if we tried," Mr Wainwright said. "And we didn't plan this, by the way."
"Yea, just lucky," Morgan added.
"That was too funny," Monty said.
The younger brother led the way, almost skipping out of the room with delight at Martin's misfortune.
Alone – they hadn't even closed the classroom door – Martin took the top item which he discovered as a t-shirt which was part of the school PE kit. They brought him boys clothes? He lifted the navy item next – shorts which he pulled on first. Bloody hell, they really were a boy's PE kit – the shorts were ridiculously short.
The waistband was ok, pinching only slightly however they were so short that they were nearly a belt. Martin's thighs and lower legs were all on show. His nearly hairless thighs felt emasculating, even after today's events.
He pulled on the t-shirt next which was very tight against his fit physique. When he bent over or stretch, midriff crept into view.
Finally, Martin slipped bare feet into the trainers. His sockless feet and bare ankles only served to emphasise the feeling of exposing skin. How could he be dressed and still feel so exposed. His hairless ankles met the fluffy wisps on his lower legs.
Martin had had enough for one day. For one week. For one year. It was only a few days until Christmas and would soon be a new year. He hoped things would get better but dreaded to think how teaching would be possible now the rumours about his tiny dick were confirmed. Martin packed everything he would need before leaving the building for the Christmas holidays. In the corridor, Martin walked past a few boys who looked wide-eyed at his attire.
"How did he fit that ass into those shorts?"
"We all know how he fit his dick into them."
The laughter echoed up the corridor.
END OF CHAPTER THREE
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My stories so far:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester
Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told, A Series of Embarrassing Events, and Noah the Embarrassed Nudist.
Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.
Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures.