Peter's Little Peter

Free the Peen

Elroy's sister Judy gives me the following advice before we leave her apartment. 

First, I need to ice my dick twice a day for the next three days. I should avoid sex, which should be easy, seeing as how sex has pretty much avoided me my entire life. If I experience any kind of pain, discoloration, or other issues, I need to go to the emergency room immediately. On this point, Judy sounds like the disclaimer voiceover for those drug commercials, but when she explains that failure to seek immediate medical attention could result in the loss of my penis, I take notice. 

Second, I should forget about anymore "snake oil solutions," whether they be "potions, lotions, or contraptions." As Judy puts it: "you'll just have to accept your penis for what it is, and learn to love it."

Third, I should probably think about getting a new girlfriend, but if I insist on dating Audrey, the doctor, I mean medical student, says I should be honest with her about my size and my insecurities. "I don't know about this big dick energy stuff," Judy says. "Frankly, Elroy's apology was long on bullshit, and short on mea culpa, if you ask me. But I do know this: if you lie to a woman, she'll find out eventually, and if she has any self-respect at all, she'll make you pay."

By the time Elroy drops me off at home, I decide that I can live with doctor's orders one and two. I'll nurse my dick back to health with ice an abstinence, even though it just now occurs to me that Judy's ban on sex also includes whacking off. It'll be a long three days. In fact, it'll be a new record for me, because my previous hands off record was only eighteen hours, and that time I had the flu. 

Compared to not whacking off for three days, giving up on a bigger penis actually seems easy. For one thing, I don't have any more "lotions, potions, or contraptions." Come to think of it, I never had any lotions at all. But after the Extender 2 snafu, I have no plans to make my penis bigger. 

Not that I'm happy about living the tiny dick life. In fact, the idea of learning to live with and love my tiny dick is still a painful one. I can't see life turning out well for a man with a small dick, even if he is capable of harnessing big dick energy. Sure, big dick energy is like the Force. And we all know that the Force is this power that runs through all of us. If you can harness the Force by learning to control your feelings, you can do amazing things, like rescuing a princess, or taking down Jabba The Hutt's organization, or destroying a Death Star without a targeting computer. But here's the thing: no self-respecting Jedi carries a small lightsaber.

Which brings me to doctor's order number three. There's just no way I'm telling Audrey the truth. I have to face the music: there's something up with Audrey and dicks. Even Elroy's sister knows about the dick pics, and she graduated John Wayne High School years ago! The fact is, I'm dating a size queen, and she thinks I have a big cucumber, because well, I stuffed a big cucumber in my pants. Sure, that cucumber gave her a mighty orgasm, which was super cool, but that's the problem. When Audrey finally, sees my real dick, she'll know I was lying. 

There's no answer to the Audrey riddle. Either I tell her, in which case she probably laughs at me, then dumps me. Or, I keep dating her and wait for her to see my real dick, at which point, she probably yells at me and then dumps me. I don't like my options, so I ice junk, and then go to bed.

When I wake up the next morning, I have a breakfast boner. It doesn't hurt, which is good news. But as I reach for my sausage to give it a little tug, I remember Judy's orders. No whacking off. 

"This is going to suck," I say to my empty room. Then my eye catches my Han Solo poster, and I swear I hear him say, "I know." Obviously, the poster can't talk. But this is what happens when I don't whack off on the regular. My mind just sort of gets foggy, and I can't think straight because all I can think about is rubbing one out.

"It's going to be a long day," I say again to my empty room.

Thankfully, another ice session numbs my breakfast boner. But when I take a shower, the boner comes right back. Turning the water to the coldest possible setting doesn't seem to tame my tiny pecker, which makes me wonder if that cold shower thing is a myth. But I decide not to think about it. My plan is to think about nothing except school and Star Wars for the next few days, because I need to keep my mind off of sex and off of Audrey. 

The good news is that when I get out of the shower there's a text from Audrey saying that she'll be "going radio silent" for the next few days to finish up her art project. That's a relief, because Audrey won't expect me to text her, and she won't text me either. I'll still have to avoid thinking about her, which won't be easy, but without any contact, I think I have a chance.

The bad news is that she wants to go skinny-dipping after she's done with her art project. Even if we go at night, and even if Audrey accepts the fact that shrinkage from cold water plagues all men, she's going to see my dick, or maybe even touch it, and when she does, Audrey will know that my cucumber is really a tiny pickle.

I text Audrey back to tell her good luck with the art project. Then I end it with a thumbs up emoji, not because I'm down to go skinny-dipping, but because I can't think of any other way to end my text. Somehow,  just saying good luck, when someone says they have a lot of work to do but then they want to get naked with you after their done seems like a dick move.

I get dressed, wolf down a bowl of cereal, and walk to school. As I walk, I try to think of a way out of this mess. But then I remember that it's best to keep my mind off this mess, so I think about Star Wars. Specifically, why does the Empire keeps making Death Stars, when they know that the rebels have figured out how to blow them up? 

When I get to school, I find chaos. It's as if all hell has broken loose. Kids are shouting and shrieking. I find one group of kids gathered around the flag pole. They're all looking up, so I look up. 

But I don't see anything. Then I notice that the American flag is gone. There's another flag in its place, but I don't recognize this flag. There's a slight breeze, so the flag is just kind of hanging there. But eventually, a gust of wind comes along and the flag stiffens.

That's when the crowd shrieks. They're not upset. It's more like happiness. Well, maybe not happiness. But there's a kind of pleasure that the crowd gets from seeing the flag in all its glory. Because the flag is...

"Holy shit," some kid yells, "it's a dick pic!"

And it's true. The flag is a dick pic. And written on the flag, just below the dick pic, are the words: free the peen.

"Whose dick is that?" a girl shrieks.

"Not mine," one of the stoners jokes, and the crowd laughs.

I stand there, along with everyone else, looking up at the flag, trying to figure out whose dick this is waving in the breeze, and what this free the peen business is all about? And that's when I feel a firm hand grip my shoulder. 

"My office," Principal Boone says. "NOW!"

🙌Thanks for reading!🙌

Whose dick do you think is up on that flag?🏁

Why do you think Principal Boone wants to see Peter?

Any advice for Peter? Should he tell Audrey the truth? If so, how do you think he should break the news? 🥒

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