by Richard Norway

They call me a cute stud. Well the girls do, but not the boys. I'd probably piss in my pants if a boy called me that and be afraid of what he's after because I'm not a gay, Stud. Isn't that what they call a well-endowed horse? Well ,it can't be me because I'm not well endowed. In fact, I look like puberty decided to take a vacation when it comes to me down there. Oh, I've got a few sprouting pubes that are said to make my penis look larger, or are supposed to, at least. Hah! What a joke.

So, I guess I've got good looks above my shoulders—just not so much down below. Oh, I have gotten growth spurts which have affected my height, like how tall I am. But no growth spurts down there yet, where it should count, where I so want it to be. When I was naked in the shower at gym class, the other boys kept telling me the girls' showers were next door. I look at myself in my full-length mirror and don't see myself as being too short, down there I mean.

But I suppose I should be truthful here: my penis is short! If I ever had a chance to stick it in a girl, it wouldn't take more than a moment for my sperm and semen to get to the end of my dick in only just a few seconds I'm afraid. Everything I've read says girls prefer it to take longer than that.

Short, huh? Yeah, one benefit here would be it doesn't take long for blood to fill it when I get an erection. Except it isn't much of a benefit. Just ask me how I feel when it happens during history class. Hell, you'd think it was an Indi 500 race as fast as I fill up. Carry your damn jacket every day, you idiot, I keep telling myself.

I hear boys talking about being embarrassed with a boner tenting their pants in school. My view: You're damned lucky you've got something in there that will tent your pants, you idiot!

I need to write a letter to the head of the puberty department and complain. I'd tell him 'You're not done with me yet! I'm 15 for Christ sake. You should be done with me by now.'

He can't be done yet? Can he? Can he? Am I going to have to live with being called pencil dick all my life? Oh, God, what a thought. The boys in gym have now shortened it to just PD—for pencil dick. Well, at least they don't call me a girl anymore.

My best friend, Charlie, tries to give me hope by putting his arm around me while looking down at me, saying, "Not yet, huh?"

The fucker! What kind of support is that?

I always answer him by saying, "Still waiting."

" If you want me to, I can grab it and pull on it to stretch it some," he says with a strange look in his eyes.

" You'd probably love doing that, you pervert," I usually say back to him, but then I wonder how I'd react if he touched and pulled on me down there. I think I might actually like it. Hmmmm. Well, it's just a thought.

I got to thinking about what he said about pulling on my dick and eventually found myself in an adult toy store looking for one of those things that're supposed to make your dick bigger. I did find one of those gadgets and took it to the counter. The guy asked me if I was 18 yet. He gave me a very questioning look, quite obviously figuring I'd lie to him.

"Mister, if I drop my pants in front of you, you'd understand why I need this thing," I said to him. He let out a gut shaking laugh and said, "Never mind, no need for that," and sold it to me.

I tried it out while I was alone in my room by sticking my dick in it and started pumping away. Since I had played a little with myself before I used it, I was already starting to bone up and the damn thing got stuck to me and I couldn't pull it off! Then I realized I had to pee, but it wasn't pee. It was that feeling I get down below when I jack myself. Nothing I could do, once that feeling started. I ejaculated into the damn thing. I was now a mess. It took an effort, but I finally got it off me. I threw it in the trash, making sure it wasn't where my mother would find it.

Then my worst experience happened. My mom talked me into going to the school dance on Friday night by claiming it would be a great experience for me to meet other kids and possibly make some friends. Is she mad? I don't want friends. I want a bigger dick!

Anyway, I went. As soon as I walked in, Chrissy said so that everyone could hear, "Hey, PD's here."

I jettisoned my full cup of punch into the trash and ran crying from the gym. Needless to say, that was the last time I went to a dance.

When I got home, Mom asked me what was wrong. I was about to tell her about the diminutive size of my penis but thought better of it and just went up to my room and cried myself to sleep with anger and vengeance in my heart at how the head of Puberty, International, had betrayed me.

I still had problems in taking the required shower after gym. I would look at other boys and the size of their penises. I had no sexual feelings toward any of them. I did have pure unadulterated envy of what they had down there, I'd see them and always start crying. I always turned to the shower head to let the water run down my face to hide my tears.

That was all back then. In school. You remember that, huh? Did I ever grow up? Well, yes I did. All it was, all that angst, was that puberty was late starting for me. Eventually my penis grew so that it compared with the other boys. Well maybe a tinge shorter, but I'm done complaining. And it's been a long time since anyone has called me PD.

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