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PROLOGUE
Three boys were holding him naked up against the white wipe off board in Mrs. Brown's math classroom, when Mrs. Brown called Victor to the front of the room. Victor, with his handsome Hispanic features with black close-cropped hair, stood up from his seat and walked toward Peter. Peter's eyes lowered down to the substantial basket Victor carried between his legs. Victor had a confident stride, and Peter wondered if that manly way of walking came with being the proud owner of such a substantial measure of manhood.
Randy picked up a ruler from Mrs. Brown's desk and walked over to Victor, while Sally stood waiting, still wearing her cheerleader's uniform, and looking very bored at the wipe-off board just to the right of where the boys were holding Peter. As Victor unbuttoned his jeans and hefted out the massive meat he kept tucked away inside, Randy put the ruler down against his hardening shaft. Admiring Victor, Peter could feel his own substantially smaller shaft hardening until the tip of his penis pointed straight up at the ceiling. His foreskin retracted a bit exposing clear droplet clinging to the red tip of own small penis.
"Victor's penis is exactly seven and three quarter's inches long." Randy announced as Victor smiled broadly, tucking his erection back into his jeans with some small effort. Then Sally picked up a marker and wrote the number "73/4" next to the name "Victor Fuentes". Victor strutted back to his seat near the back of the classroom. "Victor has the biggest dick of any boy in Santa Rosa," she added, looking over the list of measurements already printed on the board. Peter glanced to his right at the list of names and measurements on the board. The names of all of the boys in his class were listed there, and next to those names were their measurements. He scanned down the list, noticing numbers and fractions ranging from 51/2 to 73/4.
Mrs. Brown her face toward Peter, noticing his erection, and said, "Pee Wee, now that you're finally ready, no more delays. Its your turn now," and Randy advanced toward him with the same ruler he had just used to measure Victor. Peter struggled as the boys worked to hold him still while Randy bent down and held the ruler against his own erect penis. "Pee Wee's penis is exactly three and one quarter inches long." Randy announced and the class burst into laughter. Then Sally picked up a marker and wrote the number "31/4" next to the name "Pee Wee Llewellyn". The boys let him go as Sally added, "Even though he is the tallest boy in our class, Pee Wee has the smallest penis of any boy in Santa Rosa."
Even as the shame coursed through him, he could feel himself building toward orgasm. The raucous laughter of the kids evolved into some strange mantra as they began chanting his new nickname in chorus, "Pee Wee, Pee Wee, Pee Wee." He tried to turn away, so that the others would not see him, but the boys regained their hold of him just as short streams of clear semen began to erupt from his diminutive penis. Pee Wee awoke drenched in sweat, his stomach and groin sticky, wondering if his dream was just a dream, or some strange foreboding of what was yet to befall him.
CHAPTER 2: THE BOYS ON THE BUS
Peter's family lived out in the country, and the bus route was included a labyrinth of country roads and to pick up the twenty-something kids that road "Bus 3". After the events of the previous afternoon, Peter dreaded going back to school, and told his mom he was sick, but one thermometer and 98.6 degrees later he was dressed and heading out the door to wait for the bus.
The boys on the bus were waiting for him. The moment Peter stepped on the bus a group of boys shouted out "Good morning Pee Wee" in unison. He found a seat at the front of the bus, and almost as soon as he sat down they started passing his underwear forward. One boy held his briefs up with two fingers holding his nose, and tossed them onto the seat next to Peter.
That was how it started.
He realized to his horror that what had happened on the bus ride the previous afternoon, including his new nickname, had made the rounds among the students of Santa Rosa. Every laugh, every smirk reminded of his diminutive dick and confirmed that now everyone else in school knew about it.
Girls in the hallway giggled when they caught sight of him.
Sometimes kids would walk past him and simply look at him and start laughing. He knew that every laugh was directed at him, or more specifically, at his little dick.
In the restroom, Randy laughed and told several boys there about what had happened on the bus, and one of the boys laughed, saying, "No kidding. Its really that small?" Then he asked Peter him to show them his dick. But Peter only shook his head and started to enter a stall when several boys grabbed him, pulling him back out of the stall. They stripped his pants and shirt off and left him in the restroom naked, carrying the rest of his clothing out of the restroom as they left. Peter spent the rest of recess hiding in the stall, and all of the next period, until a group of boys led by Randy came back into the boy's room carrying his clothes with them at lunch break.
"You want these back?" One boy's head popped up over the upper edge of the partition dividing the stall he was in from the next one. He held Peter's shorts up high above his reach. Peter had the stall door locked and had his legs braced against it to keep them from coming in after him. Instead several boys crawled up until a circle of faces were looking down from the top of the dividing walls at Peter who was sitting on the toilet, trying to cover himself with his hands.
"You want these back?" Randy repeated.
"Yes" Peter said. There was no strength in his voice. The words came out a deep whisper because he knew the boy was only going to tease him.
"Here," Randy said, tossing his briefs into the stall, "You can put these on." Peter caught his briefs and stared down at them. His name, "Peter Llewellyn" had been neatly printed in large black letters on the waistband of his briefs. He remembered his mother writing his name on all his briefs and t-shirts last summer when he had gone to swim camp. But now someone had crossed through his name and instead written "Pee Wee" on the waistband. A small penis and tiny balls had also been scrawled on the front of his briefs using a red marker. Strangely Peter caught himself thinking, "Mom can never see these. She would freak!" His briefs were damp, and had a distinct medicinal smell of menthol. Still they were something he could put on to cover himself, and so he did. They felt damp and cool against his skin. The same cool as he got brushing his teeth.
"I think that no pistol that small can shoot anything but blanks." Randy said in a matter of fact tone. "We want to see if that's true. . . if you shoot blanks or if you actually got any ammo."
"Yeah," another boy began, leering down at him, "How do you jerk off? With two fingers?" But the joke was lost on Peter whose attention was diverted down where he could feel the brisk cool feeling of his damp shorts against his crotch begin to transform into a warm tingling sensation, that was getting warmer as the boys spoke. At the same time he could feel his penis harden.
George nudged Randy saying "Naa, he can't fit two whole fingers on that pee-wee pee-pee. Maybe he uses tweezers!" He held up two fingers imitating tweezers and the boys all laughed.
"You want these back?" The boy repeated a third time holding Peter's shorts up over the top of the partition so that Peter could see them. "We could come back later. . . give you some time to think about it."
"Or we could just flush 'em," another boy standing outside the stall suggested, someone Peter couldn't see.
"Uh. . . Uh," Peter said, clutching at his burning scrotum and groin, "It's starting to, Uh. . . Burn. It burns! Ow!" His legs started to tremble, as he pulled the waistband open and tried fanning his reddening penis that now felt like it was being held too close to an open flame.
"What's wrong, Pee Wee?" Randy asked, "Why don't you come on out here? You need to wash up? The sink is just right over there."
Peter looked frantically up at the circle of faces looking down at him on the toilet. The rapid onset of a burning sensation to his now rock hard, painful erection forced him to writhe around the stall in not so silent agony. And then, to make matters even worse, he could even feel his anus beginning to warm.
In an astonishing display of frantic movement, he pulled off his "hot pants" and slid them down his legs, managing to keep the door braced closed, while trying to fan some cooling air across his penis whose color has gone from bright red to purple prompting one of the boys to announce, "Hey look, he's got a little red woody!"
Peter knelt there, muscles trembling, head hanging down over the toilet bowl, staring at his burning penis and scrotum, and said nothing. He didn't look up. He didn't notice as a hand reached down beneath the stall door where he had thrown down his briefs and snatched them up. After a few minutes, a bell rang, and he heard the boys' feet hit the floor and someone said, "We'll be back."
"No, please," he begged, "Help me. My dick is burning off." Somewhere near the entrance he heard Randy say to someone, "Naa, it burns like hell for about 20 minutes, but it won't hurt him." But nothing Peter did, not even rapidly repeating the word "fuck" over and over in a breathy mantra of frustration and pain, helped to ease the burning. Water might help, he thought, "I need to wash this stuff off of me." But he knew that even if he did try to bust out of this stall and get to the sink the other boys would only intercept him, or do something to make his situation even worse. Peter began crying uncontrollably, and curled up in front of the toilet trying to fan his burning groin.
When he couldn't stand it any longer, he careened through the door, half expecting at least some of the boys to still be there, and finding himself alone, bolted for the sinks, attempted to maneuver his erect penis beneath the faucet and run some presumably cooling water over his chronically enflamed penis. He succeeded, but the water only made the burning worse, causing him to cry out. He soaped up his enflamed penis over and over again, trying to wash off whatever chemical had soaked into his skin, and waited there for a long time, his erection maintained, turning blue and then purple because of the Methyl Salicylate and Menthol that also resulted in his inability to lose this erection. But Randy was wrong, Peter decided. He was certain that the burning lasted much, much longer than 20 minutes.
Later during one of the long class periods, alone in the restroom, he noticed that someone had snatched his briefs from the floor of the stall. He explored the restroom trying to find something to cover himself, perhaps a trash can liner that he might fashion into pants or a tunic, or towels, or well, just something.
Peter hoped that maybe one of the boys had dropped his clothes just outside the door, or left something behind. But there was nothing he could use. He went to the entrance, and even opened the door to look outside. His stomach felt empty and he realized that he hadn't eaten all day, not even a snack. The sidewalk extended out perpendicular to the building, back to the playground behind the school and forward out to the street. Running in either direction would put him in direct view of the large windows to the classrooms in that wing of the building. By that time he had been in the restroom almost all day long, and the idea of running away was beginning to have merit. School would be out soon, he thought, he might more easily run out after the other students had left for the day, but then class bells sounded.
He retreated into the stall just as a few boys straggled in. Several banged on the door to the stall with their fists and laughed. From the sound of feet there were even more of them.
"Hey Pee Wee, you been in there all day. That must be one hell of a shit you're takin'." He recognized Randy's voice. "Are you coming out or do we have to come in after you?"
He hesitated then opened the stall door and stepped out to face them. The group of boys outside howled.
"Now that you've had some time to think about it," Randy began, "Let's get back to the question I asked you earlier today."
"Come on, Pee Wee. . ." a few boys coaxed him, then one said "Victor will jerk off with you!" and he slapped Victor on the back.
Victor had a slender athletic build, broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a splattering of dark brown hair on his chest, making him the hairiest guy in their class. And Victor had a reputation for having the biggest dick at Santa Rosa High School, bigger even than any boy in the senior class. He often exhibited it proudly at the urinal and in the showers, and in truth what he possessed was well beyond average endowment.
But Peter said "No" again, and took of the boys took hold of his arms, threatening, "Then we'll just have to throw him outside. I mean we can't let him hide in here all day."
Peter's eyes lowered again to the substantial basket Victor carried between his legs, and absurdly thought back on his dream. Then Victor unbuttoned his pants and exhibited his horse-dick to his classmates in the boy's room and to Peter.
Randy announced, "This is what a man's dick looks like. Just so you know."
The boys holding Peter released him, directing him to "Go on. Get with it."
Victor began massaging his large penis, which quickly grew rigid and even larger, curving distinctly toward his left hip. Peter had often stolen glimpses of Victor, admiring his muscles, his hairy masculinity. He had imagined Victor's large hairy manhood as his own, and alone at night in his bedroom, had even masturbated to that fantasy. But now . . . Peter stared up at Victor's hairy chest, followed the trail down his abs to the point where it thickened around his navel, then straggled down into an even thicker darker mat of pubes. Peter could feel his secret desire awaken within him as he watched Victor standing there, so close, masturbating that enormous man-cock. Feeling his own small penis harden, tenting out his briefs, Peter uncertainly tried touching the hard tip of his penis. The skin of his penis was still incredible sensitive from his earlier ordeal.
After a few minutes Victor began to breath heavily and after a series of halted moans suddenly shot several long streams of thick white semen across the three feet separating the boys onto Peter's shoulders, chest and stomach.
Victor closed the distance between them, stepped forward and pointed his still erect penis at Peter's face while Peter flinched and drew his head back. "Go on." He said, "Take a good look." And Peter did. Victor's penis was incredible.
"Kiss it." Victor said, "I know you want to. I see the way you look at me."
Peter looked up at Victor and leaned forward, kissed the tip of the cock he had fantasized about so many times. "Go on, fag boy." Victor said, and Peter touched the tip of his tongue to the tip of Victor's dick. He heard the click and saw the flash of light but when he started to look around, Victor grabbed his face in his hands and said, "Now, its your turn. Start jacking!"
Peter's jaw dropped. He could not believe this was happening. He was sure he could never bring himself to do what Victor had just done for an audience.
For reasons beyond his comprehension his small penis was already standing at attention, throbbing and as rock hard as it had before. He found it with his fingers and sheepishly started to stroke it.
"No do it with two fingers like you usually do," one of the boys said, and they all laughed.
Peter closed my eyes and started to masturbate his small penis more vigorously. He closed his eyes and tried to block out his audience, then I saw a flash of light through his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes to see Randy holding the same camera from the bus. Two of the other boys were looking at the viewfinder and laughing at the pictures he had just taken.
"Hurry up" George said impatiently, "we don't have all day".
Despite the situation he found himself in, Peter quickly found himself building toward orgasm. His fingers moved faster until his muscles locked up and he shot his seed on the cracked concrete floor of the old restroom. Randy was still taking pictures of him, and the flashes brought him quickly back to the reality of his situation. He looked up at Randy, and said very frankly, "I did what you wanted. Can I please have my clothes back now?"
Randy just stared down at him, started to hand him his clothes then drew them back as Peter reached for them. "Just one more thing," he said, "What's your name?"
Peter paused, then tentatively answered, "Peter".
"Not anymore, now it's Pee Wee." George laughed.
"Say it," Randy insisted, "Say 'My name is Pee Wee.'"
It took a long time, but at last he said it, "My name is . . . Pee Wee."
The boys laughed and Randy threw Peter's clothes on the floor next to him. His shorts were soaking wet. Someone must have dunked them in a sink, or most likely a toilet. He never found his underwear. Or his lunch money.
"If we catch you wearing underwear again, Pee Wee" Randy said, "You'll get stripped again." Randy walked toward the entrance, then turned around and walked back to where Pee Wee was kneeling. He pulled out the camera from the bus. The one they had used to take pictures of him. No one has seen these . . . yet!" Randy said frankly.
"No, you wouldn't," Pee Wee implored.
"There is only one way to find out, Pee Wee," Randy smirked. "So you really want to listen to me from now on." He stared down at Pee Wee who sat kneeling crestfallen on the restroom floor, "Hey Pee Wee!" and when Pee Wee looked up at him he tapped a finger to his temple, then said using 'I know what's best for you' tone of voice, "Don't forget!"
The boys left him alone in the restroom as Pee Wee quickly gathered his clothing and wrung out his shorts. He could tell his parents about what had happened, or even go to his teachers. But what would that accomplish. And then everyone would also know what a wimp he was. Not just some of his classmates. Everyone. Better to just accept his place at the bottom of the pecking order and try to become invisible. He barely got dressed and made it to the bus stop in time to catch his bus home.
That afternoon, waiting naked in the boys' room, at the mercy of the other boys, Peter had lost more than his briefs, and more than his lunch money. He had also lost his self-respect. He no longer thought of himself as a young man, or even as a boy on the verge of manhood. Peter vanished forever and had been replaced by Pee Wee, and there was nothing he could do to change it.