Chapter 4

Next up – Brown Eyes. He tells me he wants to work on the scissor hold. I take a step backwards and he laughs. “It’s okay, Mall Cop Tom. I’ll go easy. See, you’re so skinny that practicing with you will strengthen my hold against my normal sized opponents.

Like I’m not normal. Okay, fine. I’m not. But I didn’t choose who I am. And I’m not sorry.

There’s plenty more male/male contact as he carefully squeezes me between his legs. At various times my face is between his legs, between his feet, thrusted into his chest and at one point, practically in his crotch. Damn that sports cup. But all of this hugging and squeezing keeps me as hard as ever.

Last, it’s Grey Eyes’ turn. He’s the cutest of these three guys. I blush and ask, “And what do you want to practice?” All I can imagine that’s left is body slamming, but I can’t imagine that not hurting. A lot.

He leans in like before and asks, “You need your job, right?”

I nod, “I pay my own tuition and I pay my parents some rent.”

He nods back, “I don’t need to practice anything. You need to know how to protect yourself. Especially someone as cute as you. Tonight, this is all just for fun but you could find yourself someday in some situation where you’re not playing a game. Where the threat is real. People might think you’re an easy target. Don’t be.”

He seems to be genuinely concerned about me. And he called me cute again. It makes the seams of my Nike briefs strain.

He says, “I’m going to teach you some basic self-defense. Nothing too complicated. You don’t need to be a musclebound idiot like me to be able to protect yourself.”

I swallow. Why is he doing this? Does he…care?

So, that’s what he does. My time “wrestling” with Grey Eyes is spent by him teaching me how to use my elbows and knees. He teaches me about kicks and claws and palm strikes.

Eventually, practice is over. The other two guys walk over to us and all three of them fist bump me.

Brown Eyes looks down, “Little Buddy, your little buddy is still standing strong. It’s been over two hours. I have to say I’m impressed by your stamina.”

Impressed? By me? If he only knew. I am a weak wimpy little man. Well, that much is obvious, but he doesn’t know that being looked at, laughed at, touched, tickled, dominated and humiliated by these masculine, real men is what’s keeping me this way. If this were to continue for twelve hours, I would stay rock hard for every minute. It wouldn’t be a conscious effort to be proud of. It’s a matter of extreme arousal.

Blue Eyes says, “Don’t forget, we still have one place to test his sensitivity.”

Grey Eyes says, “Haven’t we put him through enough already? The guy was just doing his job. We really weren’t supposed to be here this late.”

Blue Eyes says, “It would be cruel of us not to finish what we started. Do you really think he wants to finish his shift with blue balls? Look at the poor guy. He’s dying for a release. Really, we owe it to him.”

Grey Eyes has almost become my protector as these hours have progressed. Needing a protector and being protected makes my little soldier stand taller. But at the same time, this is maybe the one thing I don’t want to be protected from. I want the domination to continue. Please violate me.

Brown Eyes sides with Blue Eyes and Grey Eyes is overruled. “The dude’s in obvious misery. Besides, I’ve gotta know if he’s as ticklish there as everywhere else. What did we decide? On a scale of 1 to 10 he was a million? This could be over really quickly.”

Blue Eyes laughs, “We might be able to make it happen just by looking at it. One stroke at the most? The dude is ready to blow.”

I really, really am.

I consider telling them that I’m a virgin, but they probably figured. It’s like telling someone that the sky is blue and water is wet. Do I want this to happen? I think so. I’ve never had an orgasm that wasn’t self-inflicted. I’ve also never had an orgasm in front of another person. Will this be embarrassing? Will it be humiliating? God, I hope so.

Brown Eyes indicates for me to lie down again and I do. I like doing what I’m told. I could obey orders all day. Blue Eyes goes down by my feet and holds down my ankles. Grey Eyes takes the spot up top and holds my wrists down over my head. Both of these things are unnecessary. I won’t be fighting. I don’t even want to. I am as curious as they are. I am a willing participant.

Grey Eyes gets close to my ear and reminds me that this is when the safe word is in play.

I won’t be needing it.

Brown Eyes explains, “Mall Cop Tom, your job, your goal, your objective is to hold out. Hold on as long as you can. Don’t blow your load until you can’t take it any longer. If you want to knock your sensitivity rating down some from that million, here’s your chance.”

I don’t give a shit about the sensitivity rating. I would happily be labeled as the most ticklish person on planet earth. I do, however, want to hold out on my pending orgasm as long as possible. It’s simple; I don’t want this to end. His fingers find the waistband of my briefs and as they graze my skin, I twist and giggle.

“Oh my god!” says Blue Eyes. “This is gonna be too easy. Let’s take bets! How long does he last? I say one minute tops.”

They look at Grey Eyes and he shrugs, “I have no idea.”

Brown Eyes shrugs too, “Then I just have to take the over or the under. I’ll take the under. No way Little Dude lasts a full minute.”

My underwear gets pulled down and my erection slaps against my lower stomach before springing straight up, pointing skyward. My briefs pass over my knees and Blue Eyes takes them all the way off. I’ve been almost completely naked for over two hours at this point, just one small swath of blue fabric tented by my raging member, but now, I truly am naked and I feel it.

There’s one brief moment of silence before Blue Eyes and Brown Eyes bust out into raucous laughter.

My pulsing dick throbs and bobs as it gets scrutinized. All three of them stare at it like it’s an exhibit at the zoo. I can actually feel their six eyeballs on my steel shaft. It is being assessed, sized up, evaluated and judged. And it loves the attention. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. Of course my regular (okay, maybe even smallish) dick doesn’t compare to these masculine men. How could it? But it is literally standing up more than I ever thought possible.

The fact that my best, biggest, tallest, proudest erection of my life is laughable to these huge guys is delicious to me. It aches to be dominated and humiliated. Oh my god. I have never been so turned on. So ready. I notch up one last time and it is not possible for me to be any bigger or harder than I am right now.

Blue Eyes peers at it from around Brown Eyes’ back, “The underwear was deceiving. Little Dude’s little dude is crazy little!”

Yes! I am a tiny, puny, shell of a man. My little dude tries so hard and stands so proud, but comes up way short. Yet, he never gets discouraged. Shaming him only makes him prouder.

My heart pounds harder. It really is impossible to stiffen any more. A blob of precum rolls up my shaft, out my slit and down my apparently too-short length.

Brown Eyes is still giggling, “I thought he’d be bigger too.”

With each degradation, I pulse and bob.

“At least it appears to be in excellent working order.” Blue Eyes releases one ankle and picks up my work pants. “He has a 28 inch waist. I was in middle school when I last had a 28 inch waist and size eight shoes. He’s just small everywhere.”

My dick twitches three times.

Brown Eyes is still laughing, “He desperately needs that puberty re-do.”

My penis is absolutely humming. It’s begging to grow bigger and harder, but there’s just no more room. It’s maxed out.

Blue Eyes says, “Hey, let’s do a countdown of ways to know if you have a small penis. I’ll get it started. Number 10: If you can’t find it.”

My cheeks flush bright red and all three of them laugh.

Brown Eyes is in on the game. “Number 9: Naked, you can conceal yourself with just a soup spoon.”

Blue Eyes, “Number 8: If it’s smaller than a roll of dimes.”

And thinner, I want to add. I’m not sure I can make it through ten of these. I might just explode right here, right now.

Brown Eyes goes, “Number 7: Fully erect, you fail the toilet paper tube test.”

My cheeks redden. I tell them, “I’ve actually done that and the toilet paper tube has me beat by a good inch.”

All three of them crack up.

Blue Eyes needs a full minute to stop laughing, “Number 6: If when you pee, it hits your balls.”

Brown Eyes, “Number 5: You reach for it and miss.”

Oh my god! Yes! Shame my size. Humiliate my manhood. Tell me more!

Blue Eyes, “Number 4: When you run into the wall with a boner and you break your nose.”

Grey Eyes has stayed out of it, but even he snorts out a laugh at that one. Meanwhile, precum leaks from my dick like a faucet.

Brown Eyes, “Number 3: If you just thought you had two belly buttons.”

Blue Eyes says, “Number 2: If you feel you need to ask this question.”

Brown Eyes grins, “Number 1: If you go to a glory hole and you never get sucked because the guy on the other side of the hole can’t stop laughing.”

I’m panting, trying to not shoot my load. Ten humiliating insults in rapid fire succession. This might be the greatest moment of my life.

Blue Eyes guffaws. “Maybe we should keep tabs on our new friend here after tonight. We could monitor his progress weekly between now and his second puberty. We set out to toughen him up, right? Tonight could be just the beginning. A baseline. We could keep notes on tickle response, hair growth, how long he can hold his load…”

“And size,” says Brown Eyes. “We could take and track official measurements.”

My mouth falls open and I’m gasping for air. I imagine these guys with a tape measure, checking and double checking. Measuring and remeasuring. Bending me every which way. Trying to stretch me out, hoping for improbable growth as the days and weeks pile up. Whispering to my penis, begging it to measure up to a respectable length while it fights and strains and fails. Laughing at the humiliating results. Results that need to be shared. Charted and posted on the school website, with supporting photos. And a place to write comments. Oh, yes…comments. I want to hear from all two thousand students, my coworkers, my boss and as much of the faculty as possible.

My little dick would be proud of its shortcomings. These three guys would all be disappointed as it remains stubbornly small. They would have to punish me for failure to progress. I would love the punishment. Crave it, really. And they would never get the chance to measure me flaccid, because around these degrading burly guys, the constant humiliation keeps me rock hard night and day. 24/7. Constant arousal. And speaking of rock hard, I swear… I didn’t think it was possible but I just got even harder still. My skin might tear. I might pop like a balloon.

“Okay, but we do both length AND girth,” Blue Eyes points out.

I just might have a heart attack.

“Why stop there?” asks Brown Eyes. ” He can be our new workout buddy, we could measure his biceps and his waistline too. We’ll make spreadsheets. This could be a research project.”

“Make a foot odor tab on that spreadsheet. I doubt that dicklet gets bigger no matter what, but if his feet ever start to stink, that might be our only indicator that puberty number two has kicked in.”

The thought of being such a small, pathetic little man that I need a second puberty has me at the absolute brink. They may have been right before when they suggested they could make me cum without even touching me. It’s more their words than their eyes, but still.

For the first time since my briefs came off, Grey Eyes speaks, “Okay you guys. Ease up a little. He’s not a giant freak like we are. He’s a regular guy. Look, it’s not that small. He’s got a good five inches there.”

Hearing Grey Eyes compliment my manhood surprisingly turns me on almost as much as hearing the others degrade me. Almost, but not quite.

He goes on, “Seriously, those five inches on his smaller frame are as good as your eight inches on your massive body. He’s plenty big. It’s all relative.”