Pee Wee

PEE WEE

Disclaimer:

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. The subject matter of this story deals with small penis life experiences, which includes sexual contact and humiliation.

Some of the experiences are re-imagined from real life experiences of my own, or of friends with similar issues who have shared theirs with me. But much has been changed to make the stories more interesting. I haven't used any real names, and I certainly don't advocate that people who are different should be hazed or ridiculed for being different (quite the opposite). So perhaps there is some insight to be gained about what it is like for men who are under-endowed by society's standards, and who have been subject to some of these life experiences. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if you consider this type of writing to be morally offensive, then find something else to read. And, if you should decide to read the following story, neither this site nor the author will be held accountable for your actions.

Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at: dreamcat_dave@yahoo.com

CHAPTER 6: THE MATRIARCH

When he got home from school, his mother opened the door frowning. "I need to talk to you, Peter." She usually didn't get home until later in the afternoon, and from the serious tone in her voice, he knew that he was in trouble. She was upset, very upset. Of course it didn't take much to upset Francis Llewellyn. One of her favorite activities was transforming molehills into mountains. She lived to tell others all about how difficult her life had been since her divorce, what her deadbeat husband was doing now, and how challenging it was raising three sons alone.

Pee Wee had learned already in his young life not to ask her about his mother's day, since he would be subjected to a long diatribe about how difficult her life was, and how somehow it was his fault, or his brothers' fault, or of course, his deadbeat dad's fault.

He had heard his mother warn her friends on the telephone, "Never let yourself get put into a situation you can't get out of," she would advise them. "Take a lesson from my life." His mother was always giving advice, with or without the consent of the people she gave it to. She loved telling people what to do, or how their choices inevitably fell short of the moral high ground that she walked. Pee Wee figured that was why his father had divorced her--well, that and the fact that she was an unrestrained religious fanatic.

"Come and sit down over here." She pointed at the spot on the couch across from the chair where she was sitting. She even had to control where he sat when they talked. Pee Wee's heart fell. He guessed that she must have heard something about what happened on the bus or in the restroom.

Pee Wee knew that there were no secrets in a small town, and his mother was well connected to the grape vine of gossip that entangled Santa Rosa in its tendrils. He wondered just what she had heard, and just who had told her. He also wondered how the story had twisted and changed in the retelling. Pee Wee had long ago come to the conclusion that his mother was about the most judgmental person he knew. He could hear her talking on the phone with other women in the town, always discussing rumors about some unfortunate soul who had captured their attention. Except now somehow he had managed to become the talk of the school, if not the talk of the town. He figured that it really wouldn't matter significantly if he were the victim, only that he was a source of embarrassment to her, and to their family. He could feel nervous sweat begin to pool under his arms.

"Mark," his mother called up the stairs to his younger brother, "You come down here too." Pee Wee walked towards the couch and sat down. Surely if his mom had heard something about what had happened she would have told his dad, but his father had said nothing to him all day. Mark eventually came bounding down the stairs and sat down in a chair next to the couch.

"Peter, I got a call from the principal at your school today. What do you think that I am thinking right now?"

Pee Wee squirmed uncomfortably, looking over at his brother for some clue as to what he might know about this, but Mark only shrugged. He didn't know what to answer and so he said nothing.

"Your principal told me that you missed all of your classes yesterday, and your classes this morning. He asked if you had been sick. Where were you? I know you got on the bus this morning, so what's this all about?"

Pee Wee still didn't know how to answer, maybe the best way was telling her the truth. But if he did that then she would know about everything he had done and everything they had made him do. The notoriety would be too much. His mother would never be able to accept him again. He knew that much about her. She loved her concept of Peter the perfect son or Peter the honor roll student, but not the reality of Peter, not Peter the gay, Peter the wimp, or (least of all) Peter the embarrassment.

"I, um, uh . . ." Peter made a couple of false starts in an attempt to find an answer, but no words were forthcoming. His uncomfortable silence collapsed in broken syllables.

"Were you skipping class?" She interrupted, "Where were you?" and waited this time for an answer.

"He spent the morning in the restroom." Mark interrupted. Pee Wee's eyes went wide and his head snapped up. An all too familiar blush stained his cheeks and crept down his throat onto his chest. From the look on Pee Wee's face, Mark might as well have squatted down and taken a dump in the middle of the living room.

Pee Wee instantly worked out that Mark had heard about what had happened in the restroom this morning, which meant the boys had been talking. Of course there were enough of them in there. It shouldn't surprise him that at least one of them had said something! It meant that probably a lot of other kids had heard by now. And since Mark went to another school, several blocks from the high school Pee Wee attended, it meant that the story had to have been told any number of times to cross the social division that separated high school students from junior high kids.

"Everyone knows about it," Mark continued to Pee Wee's horror. Pee Wee realized that his little brother not only knew about what had happened, but now was about to spill the beans about EVERYTHING to his mother. His Mother! Life as he knew it was about to come to an end.

"Pee Wee got real sick and threw up all over everything." Mark continued, "He threw up on the bus and then at school too. I heard he even threw up on some other kids. It was a real vomit fest! Some of the boys teased him cause he vomited all over his clothes and had to wash them in the boy's room sink."

"Is that true, Peter?"

"Yes," Pee Wee answered, staring at his younger brother. Everything he had said was true, technically. Pee Wee knew to keep his answers short. If he said anything longer his mother would only interrupt.

"Why didn't you go to the school nurse?" His mother asked.

"I did." Pee Wee perked up a bit, and answered again truthfully. "You can call--" but his mother picked up the phone and started dialing the high school before he had even finished his sentence.

"I would like to speak with Mrs. Parker, your school nurse," she said using a polite tone she never used at home. As the conversation continued, Pee Wee could hear only his mother's responses to whatever the nurse was saying. He wondered how many times she was interrupting Mrs. Parker as they talked. From the expression on his mother's face, she seemed to be satisfied by whatever the nurse was saying to her.

The edge of tension left the room. Pee Wee suddenly noticed that he needed to breath. He stopped holding his breath and inhaled as the pounding of blood receded like a tide from his ears.

"I just talked to Mrs. Parker," Mrs. Llewellyn announced as if they had not been paying attention to anything since their conversation started, "and she said that she had not told the principle about you being in her office. She told me that you had thrown up all over the bus during your trip in, as well as, on your shirt and trousers."

Mark was sitting casting smug glances in his brother's direction, quite proud of how his quick wit had suddenly changed the course of this conversation. Mark had scored a victory in a conversation with their mother, certainly a landmark event.

Pee Wee's mother sounded relieved. What other people thought was very important to Francis Llewellyn. Pee Wee was very conscious of the fact that his mother would not be able to tolerate it should he become a source of embarrassment to her.

"I don't know why you didn't tell me about it." She said.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Pee Wee said. "I just didn't want to make a big deal about--" but his mother walked out of the living room in the middle of his sentence. At best, he decided, she only half paid attention to anything he said. Pee Wee was convinced that his mother paid far more attention to what she was about to say, than to what anyone else actually said to her. The fact that she interrupted people so frequently seemed to underscore how little she regarded the thoughts of others. Now she walked back into the kitchen, dialing the school to redress the principal for having falsely accused her son.

"You know I just saved your ass." Mark said.

"Yes," Pee Wee said, "Thank you."

"So who is the big brother in this family?" Mark posed with a tone of voice that clearly told Pee Wee what answer he was expecting in return.

"You are." Pee Wee said, forcing a smile and looking down into his lap after catching his brother's eyes. He shifted his gaze to an expensive antique tapestry of Paris that his mother had hanging over the couch. According to family legend, his father has rescued it from a neighbor's trash heap years ago.

"Damn right!" Mark said, smiled broadly and asked, "And who has the biggest dick in our family?"

Pee Wee quickly glanced into the kitchen to see if his mother had overheard, then seeing her animatedly involved in some discussion with the principal, he allowed himself a smile and said deliberately, "I think that would be our cousin Larry."

Mark laughed out loud, then conceded, "Okay. You got me there. But between the two of us, dickwad, who has the biggest dick?"

Pee Wee looked at his brother without emotion, "You do," he said, "but you already know that."

"Damn right!" Mark declared again, "And don't you forget it."

"I don't think you will let me," Pee Wee said.

"Let's finish this conversation upstairs." Mark said, and the two boys went up the stairs, Mark running ahead, and Pee Wee lagging behind. They went into Pee Wee's bedroom that still had twin beds, even though his older brother, Troy, had gone off to college last summer. Pee Wee's bed was set right against the window that looked out over the front yard. Mark landed on Troy's old bed and grinned at Pee Wee.

"Is it true you only got a three inch dick, Pee Wee?" Mark asked, "I mean, I thought maybe you at least had four."

"Three and a quarter."

Mark drew in a breath like a backwards whistle and shook his head. "Shit man, when its that small who counts the fractions." He leaned back on the bed, with his legs splayed wide.

"So, show me." Mark said.

"What?" Pee Wee said in surprise.

"Show me your dick." Mark said. He sounded curious. There was no malicei n his voice. "I mean, measure it for me."

"No way." Pee Wee refused.

"Why?" Mark asked, "You must've showed it to half the guys in school, according to what I heard."

Pee Wee hated it that his brother had already found out about what had happened that morning. News certainly traveled fast in Santa Rosa. "I heard that several guys measured and that you were the big loser and had to strip down." Mark added.

"I heard Victor Fuentes whipped his out too. They say that guy has a monster cock. Did you see it?" But Pee Wee looked out the window and said nothing.

"C'mon, show me." Mark said again.

"No." Pee Wee refused again.

"So why did you measure it for them?" Mark asked. "It's not like I have seen your dick, Pee Wee. We're brothers."

"No." Pee Wee refused again, but this time Mark could hear that he was less adamant.

"So why did you measure it for them?" Mark asked again. "Did they force you to do it? Did you lose a bet or something?" The expression on Mark's face changed as a new thought crossed his mind, "Do you remember last year when you and Troy and I were playing cards and you had to strip naked and run around the room?"

Pee Wee lay down on his bed, facing the window and away from his brother.

"Listen up little brother," Mark announced now sounding a bit snappish, "My dick is six and one-half inches which makes mine twice as big as yours," he snorted, "even if you count fractions!"

He got up to leave the room, but suddenly stopped to punch Pee Wee's shoulder, "So who's your big brother?" Mark asked.

"You are," Pee Wee answered.

"Damn right!" Mark said for the third time, "And don't you forget it."

Pee Wee lay there in bed, looking out the window as he heard Mark go down the stairs. He didn't feel like talking to him or anyone else. He just wanted to be alone. Since the first time his older brother Troy had told him he was a "freak of nature" he had known he was different, but now, with the whole town knowing it, just walking around made him feel on display. He worried about how the boys at school might next try to humiliate him; he worried about when the stories about what had happened would finally reach his parents; he worried about his new loss of status, even at home.

Mark now considered himself to be the alpha male in their house, and Pee Wee doubted that would change anytime soon. It troubled him that Mark, his little brother, had a bigger dick than he did and knew it too. That probably bothered him as much as knowing that ALL the boys in his class had bigger dicks. He wondered why God hated him so much so as to curse him the way he had. Thinking about all the terrible things that had happened this week left him feeling sick at his stomach. He lay in his bed and groaned, wishing his world would end.

CHAPTER 7: NIGHTMARES & WET DREAMS

"Take your clothes off." Randy repeated. He smiled watching Pee Wee's reaction, "Remember what I said would happen?" Randy said, and tapped a finger to his forehead. "If we catch you wearing underwear you get stripped."

Pee Wee looked down at the white briefs exposed by his open zipper. He didn't remember putting on his tighty-whities, he must have done it out of habit, and now he was fucked for sure. The other kids in the gym were all gathered in a semi-circle around Randy, watching him

Randy shrugged his shoulders. "So now you either strip or get stripped."

"No," Pee Wee said, trying to muster up some courage in the face of the growing group of boys who were witnessing his humiliation. Victor and George moved toward him, more than willing to begin their assault on his clothes.

"No, please!" Pee Wee implored.

"No, pul-leeze." One of the boys in the gym mocked him using a high falsetto. Then Pee Wee took off his clothes slowly as the crowd gathering in the gymnasium watched, snickering and hooting. He could hear them saying something that repeated over and over becoming a chant, "Pee Wee, Pee-Pee, Pee Wee, Pee-Pee, Pee Wee . . ." and felt his body flush fevered and crimson with embarrassment.

"What's your name?" Randy interrupted him.

Pee Wee paused again. He looked at the faces of all the boys standing around him in the middle of the basketball court. There were others seated in the bleachers, all cheering, jeering, witnessing just how pathetic he had become, waiting to see just how far they could push him.

"Say it," Randy insisted.

"My name is Pee Wee." He blurted it out in a single breath.

"Stand at attention and put your hands behind your head," Randy commanded. Victor took a small wooden ruler out of his pocket and walked towards Pee Wee. Peter's looked down to the bulge between Victor's legs then down at his own retracted penis. His heart was pounding as he looked at the crowd of boys now crammed into the gym.

When Victor put the ruler down against Pee Wee's small shaft, it snapped to attention almost in a single surge. "Fuck! It's barely three inches, Randy!" Victor announced. Bereft of hair, his small penis looked exactly like that of a first grader.

"Now, Pee Wee, tell Victor how long your pee-pee is!" Randy demanded.

Standing there in the middle of the gym with his tiny penis revealed for everyone to see Pee Wee found it impossible to look up into their eyes. He felt warm tears welling in his eyes and knew that he was about to cry again.

"Say it," Randy insisted, "Say it exactly the way Victor said it."

"Fuck, it's barely three inches, Victor!" He said it out loud, the secret that he most wanted to keep secret, and the thing that kept him from being a man. But now everyone knew. This knowledge was unbearable to him. He looked down at himself and groaned without even realizing it. The boys in the gym all burst out laughing, all at the same time. It filled the gym like a pep rally cheer.

"That's exactly right, Pee Wee!" Randy spoke again, but Pee Wee didn't think he really wanted an answer to that question. "Now tell George, exactly the same way!" Randy demanded again, and George walked over to where he was standing.

"Fuck, it's barely three inches, George!" He said it out loud again, as George bent down to get a closer look.

"Now, Pee Wee, tell Curtis!" Randy demanded yet again, and Pee Wee looked over to see the boys assembling into a long line. He swallowed hard, realizing what was happening. He would be repeating this over and over to everyone assembled in the gym. Randy was going to march them by, one by one, to get a close look at his miniscule, freakish penis.

"Fuck, it's barely three inches, Curtis!" He barely got the words out as he choked back tears.

As the line of boys took their turns examining him, Randy made Pee Wee repeat his measurements out loud over and over again. No one objected, no one came to his aid. He was alone in his misery, a freak of nature, standing on display for their amusement. When he looked up again his jaw fell. Sally stood waiting next in line, still wearing her cheerleader's uniform, and looking very bored. As she walked toward him he felt his legs weaken and his knees buckle. Two boys rushed over to hold him upright, while Victor set the ruler against his small penis so that Sally could verify his miniscule measurement for herself.

"Pee Wee has the smallest penis of any boy in Santa Rosa." Sally said and grabbed hold of his small erection with two fingers.

"Tell her, Pee Wee." Randy ordered.

"Fuck, it's barely three inches long, Sally."

"Again." Randy repeated.

"Fuck, it's barely three inches long." He said it out loud again, and felt his legs buckle.

"Again." Randy repeated.

"Fuck, it's barely three inches long." He said over and over again. "It's barely three inches long. It's barely three inches long!" Even as the shame coursed through him, he could feel himself building toward orgasm with each repetition.

Even as the shame coursed through him, he could feel himself building toward orgasm. The amusement of the kids evolved raucous laughter as Sally measured out three inches between her thumb and forefinger in the air.

"Again." Randy repeated.

"It's barely three inches long." He tried to turn away, seeing her gesture, and felt his legs buckle as orgasm took him. One of the boys holding him shook his shoulder hard. Short streams of clear semen began to explode from the cherry red tip of his diminutive penis.

"Quick on the draw too!" Victor said, as he had before in another dream, to the all the boys and girls now crowded in the gym, who giggled, snickered, and pointed at Pee Wee in his humiliation. Still repeating his mantra of shame in choked gasps, his muscles locked up again and again as he squirted his seed in small spurts onto Sally's fingers and beyond onto the gym floor.

Pee Wee awoke disoriented, felt the last of his semen fall on his neck and chest, halfway through the mantra he had been repeating out loud in his sleep. He was drenched in sweat, his stomach, chest and groin were sticky, and he was relieved as it dawned on his waking mind that it had only been a nightmare.

Then he looked up his mother was standing there.

"Nasty little thing," she said in disgust. She pulled her hand away from his shoulder with a look of shock and revulsion on her face, then turned to leave his bedroom in a huff.

Pee Wee's guts cramped and without warning he started to puke. He leaned over the side of his bed and heaved again, throwing up onto the rug, splattering onto the floorboards.

Pee Wee wondered, even as he vomited, if when his mother said, "nasty little thing," she was referring to him or to his little penis. Again he groaned out loud without realizing it. He fell back onto his sheets, gut sore and muscles trembling, staring at the mess he had just made, and said nothing.

He didn't look up. He didn't think he would ever be able to look his mother in the eyes again. She had seen his dick, seen him hard, seen him ejaculate at point blank range, and even seen just how small he was. He prayed that if there were a God, which he strongly doubted at this point, that God would allow the earth to open up and swallow him. He was already in Hell and doubted that any Biblical lake of fire could be must worse.

By the time Pee Wee cleaned up the mess he had made, showered, and finally readied himself to leave, he knew that he had missed his bus and would have to get a ride with his mother and brother. He thought he would rather be buried in an ant nest that get into a car with her that morning, but he lived too far out in the country to walk to school. He knew it would be a long and silent ride.

"You are beyond all help, Pee Wee!" Mark said, coming out of the kitchen, shaking his head. Mark's cheeks had gone red, and Pee Wee wondered what his mother might have said to his brother.

Mark pushed past Pee Wee, mumbling, and walked toward the door, still adjusting his backpack, "It's embarrassing being your brother!"