The Pool Incident
When I was six, I joined the swim team at our local community pool. I was a pretty good swimmer, did well in competitions and so it was inevitable I would end up on the school swim team. From junior high on I was on the team. The high school swim team was composed of everyone interested from the 8th grade on up.
For the most part the guys on the swim team all knew I was hung small. And while they had not seen me erect, they had all seen my “innie” (retracted flaccid penis) in the changing room or the shower. And there certainly was some teasing, but mostly it was good natured, except from a few of the guys, and on a few occasions where things got carried away. I have a theory that there is something intrinsic in men that encourages them to make fun of smaller guys. Certainly it has been my experience that when men discover you are smaller they immediately think of themselves as your superior.
Maybe the most significant event of my adolescence happened at the pool my sophomore year of high school. We had competed the day before and done well at the meet, so our coaches had given us the day off from practice. Most of the guys were just hanging out talking, Ray and Tim—ever focused on their goals—were swimming laps, I was positioned in front of a jet, trying not to be too obvious about it.
I’d jumped in the pool, swam several laps, and then slowly made my way over to where the most powerful jet was. I tried not to make it obvious. I swam under the water, and came up a few feet away from the jet. Then held onto the wall and did some kicking practice, ever now and then and then would left my body drift down until my crotch came right into the jet’s path. Every time that jet would hit my dick I’d go instantly hard. Not just hard. Rock hard. Of course, by my sophomore year, I had to be careful or I’d shooting rope of teen spirit into the pool—which of course, I’d been fine with after school when the pool was empty. Sometimes I wondered how many other guys had pissed or shot into the water.
The PE coach decided to also give the Physical Education class a break and told them they could also use the pool since the swim team wasn’t practicing. Lindsay, a good friend, came out of the locker room, spoke to the girls as usual and then started towards the deep end. My heart was pounding. I was friends with Lindsay. We had gone white wing and dove hunting, and even braved some cold wet mornings during duck season. We had been competitors and friends, always playing practical jokes on one another. Onwe of those happened a few weeks earlier when another guy had distracted him and I had Lindsay’s trunks halfway down the crack of his ass at the entrance to the boy’s locker room before he stopped me. In fact I had been avoiding Lindsay hoping maybe after some time maybe he’d forget about it.
I had always been attracted to Lindsay, but never acted on it. It wouldn’t be right, but then, more than that, it wouldn’t be safe. To my own defense, Lindsay filled out his trunks in an impressive bulge. It was impossible not to notice. And impossible not to watch this guy's cock outlined in his trunks as he walked by.
“Hey Jace,” Lindsay called down at me in the water, and jumped in next to me. I adjusted my position a couple of feet away from the jet in an effort not to make it so obvious what I’d been up to.
He came up out of the water and closed the distance between us.
The next thing I knew Lindsay had me in a headlock and was dunking me underwater. I slipped free and managed to get his arm behind his back and push him away from me. He laughed and charged back at me, and pretty quick we were wrestling.
Lindsay had an advantage on me because he was already on the wrestling team. However we were in the pool which meant the rules all changed. He had another advantage though: I was rock hard in my trunks and really did not want him to find that out.
“Back off,” I said to him, fighting a defensive strategy, simply trying to keep him from ending up in a position with me where he’d discover my erection, which despite our wrestling was unflagging. “I don’t want to get into a match with you today.”
I managed to break his hold and get behind him and got him into a headlock, pulling him down under the water. One of his hands was on my arm, and the other wrapped around my ribs as he tried to get me underwater and change our positions, but then his hand slipped down and came squarely into contact with my woody.
I was surprised and let go. Pushing back from him.
He came up gulping for air and coughing and said way too loudly, “Jace got a woody!” then grabbed me and tried to dunk me under again. This time he kept one arm around my neck but reached down with his left hand and grabbed my erection. It wasn’t an accident. I guess he was just verifying what he thought he’d felt before.
Lindsay had me in a headlock again and was dunking me again and again saying over and over that all I had to do was “give” and he’d stop. Saying “give” was like saying “uncle”, and not something I was ever disposed to do, at least not back then. I guess I had a lot to learn.
I came up spluttering another time and pushed hard against him with everything I had and broke free, but when I came up I felt other hands grab my arms and shoulders. Not Lindsay, cause I could see him just beyond my feet, which were kicking at the surface of the water as these hands drew me back.
I looked around at Victor and Randy. Randy was on the swim team, and he was ne of the guys whose little dick jokes were not good natured. Randy’s insults were designed to put me down, humiliate me, not to joke with me. Victor was in the PE class, and was more or less a bully at that time, though I hear he turned into a decent enough guy after graduation.
Lindsay move toward me in the water and all I could think of was that he was gonna make me swim naked laps right then in the pool, and so I kicked at him hard. Connected with my right foot in the middle of his face. He fell back in the water, then stood up, his nose bleeding, mixing with the water dripping down his face.
But now things were different. Lindsay wasn’t smiling anymore. That kick had pissed him off royally.
He grabbed my legs and I kicked even harder but he had me around the knees and so I wasn’t connecting with him, just pushing him back and forth in the water. I could only keep it up at full strength for a short time, and when my kicks weakened Lindsay reached up and grabbed a hold of my trunks. I realized what was about to happen and so I started squirming and struggling as hard as I could, doing everything I could to pull from of Victor and Randy, then focusing on trying to get free of Lindsay again.
Lindsay got a good hold on my trunks and my thrashing only made things worse when he yanked and I thrashed and one seam of my trunks tore about halfway down. I thought I pleaded with him to stop. He says I didn’t. But that’s how I remember it. I know I must have said “Let me go” about a hundred times.
All the thrashing and yelling had drawn a lot of attention at the pool. Neither of the coaches was there, however, which would become an issue for them later on. After my trunks ripped, Lindsay made fast work of finishing the tear down one side, then let go of my legs and just pulled them free of the one leg. He tossed them over to George, I think, then grabbed my legs again and between the three of them they had me lifted up out of the water, naked as the day I was born and sporting my woody, solid as a rock.
Victor and Randy started moving me through the water over toward where a group of girls from the PE class were gathered. I was still struggling. My penis was wagging up and down, thwacking hard against me down below my navel as I moved.
The closest I can describe the experience is making reference to the movie Carrie. When the girls poured the pig’s blood on her and all she saw was people laughing at her. If I’d had her psychic assassin powers not one of those kids would have left the pool alive. Not one. Talking with Tim, Lindsay and another friend, Ken, they all agreed that there was a lot of chatter, squeals, laughter and even shouting, but they said that while some were laughing, not everyone was laughing at me. All I saw and heard was kids laughing at me and pointing at my wee willy. And I know I saw one guy making the “teeny weeny” gesture with his thumb and forefinger.
They threw me into the group of girls who screamed. I landed on one of them and she screamed out that I touched her with my dick, like she was the victim.
I tried to get my trunks back. All I could think about was how everyone there had seen me naked. More than that, they’d seen my little dick. Fully hard and micro sized. There was no arguing I was just a grow-er not a show-er. For years I’d done everything I could to hide my size. Yeah the guys on the team knew, and yes some of them had razzed me about it, but most of the kids at school didn’t know about it.
Now they did!
I pulled them back on. One side of them was ripped, but I tried to held them together. Ken sort of stayed with me and walked me over to the ladder. They came apart of course as I tried to climb up the ladder, and there was some laughter when my trunks fell down exposing me again. Lindsay grabbed up a towel that Kend had set next to the ladder and handed it to me. I was too embarrassed, too self conscious, I guess, to have seen it. I grabbed up the towel and wrapped it around me, still trying to keep my trunks from falling even after I had it on, and made a mad dash for the locker room.
I got my clothes on, didn’t bother to shower off the chlorine, and left. I didn’t just leave the pool, I left school. There was no way I could face anyone there after that. I knew word would get around and what everyone would be saying.
There was no hiding what had happened form my family, of course. Mark, my younger brother, had already heard about it before he came home from school. Lots of kids had been talking. I was too embarrassed to return to school. Teachers noticed I was not in class. The principal’s secretary made a call to my mom doing a “well being” check on me.
I refused to go back to school. I even begged my mother to enroll me in a new school. Mark sort of joined in, saying she should transfer me, but then he also added in that it was too embarrassing for him to be my brother, which was no help at all. My mom just shook her head and told me that we couldn’t move, and she couldn’t afford to put me in a private school.
I stayed out for about a week. Ken came by to see me several days after school. We played video games, and he even talked me into riding my bike with him. One night that week Ken even came by to camp out in our tree house. I couldn't get the whole thing out of my head. Everyone saw my little dick. Everyone was laughing. I knew now that they all knew my secret, I'd be the laughing stock from then on. Ken was also on the swim team, though he did sit out for one season later on. By his senior year Ken would also be one of the hairest guys on the team, hell even in school. He tried hard to be a real friend. He even confessed to me that his own dick "wasn't all that big." If it hadn't been for Ken I probably would not have ever een able to go back to school at all.
Lindsay called and apologized about three days into it. He said that when I kicked him he lost his head. He told me that since it happened the coaches had been working them out every day after school until they were rubber legged and that everyone on the team was pissed at him. He said that the coaches had gotten into trouble for leaving the class unattended, even if just for a few minutes, and that since then there had been lecture after lecture about what it meant to be a team, and supporting each other.
He said he was sorry. And I believe he was, even though I knew the coach had basically ordered him to apologize as a part of his restitution. Nevertheless that two or three minutes was all it took to change my life forever. I lost my reputation, my pride, and even my name. When I got back to school, everyone had heard, and everyone started to look at me differently. Also Randy had been calling me “Pee Wee” and “Dickless”. But my reputation as the boy with the smallest dick in school was established. Sure there were a few friends who told me, “that shit don’t matter,” and “rise above it,” and “it ain’t the size of your pencil, it’s how you sign your name,” but those homilies did little to help.
When my brother, Mark, came home one day and started calling me “Pee Wee” I knew that life as I knew it was over.
Comments
Post a Comment