I stood under the shower. Even at the hottest setting the water it belched out in a forceless trickle was still pretty tepid. I needed hot water: to get to the low ache in my muscles and soothe it, to massage away the tautness in my back. I stretched, arcing back and reaching out until my fingers scraped at the ceiling tiles. The tensing of my muscles felt great, like it always did, and, again as always, I could feel a little anticipatory shiver run down my cock. As usual, I had waited until I was alone before entering the communal shower room, which was entirely without stalls or dividers.
I had been a surprising addition to the school rugby team, even though all through secondary school, I had been good at sports. I was very fast, very agile, very skilled. I could dance around every other player, the football seemingly magnetically attached to my feet. I could swish a basketball from anywhere in the court. The sport I loved, though, was rugby and there, for all my speed and skill, because of my size I got creamed every time. Then, in my last year at school, I had suddenly shot up. I went from about 5' 6" to 6'5". Muscles seemed to spring up on me overnight and suddenly I was no longer a picked-on shrimp – I had became one of the tallest, most powerful men in school.
Initially, unable to bypass the filters people seem to have in their eyes and minds, nobody noticed. Then Steve O'Malley came up to me, as he had done frequently over the preceding five years, and shoved me hard in the shoulder. "Think that's my CD player, shrimp," he had said, this being in the time before the iPod. I hadn't even swayed when he pushed me, and I realised – I guess even I'm not immune to those mental blockages – that I was now much, much taller than him.
I had smiled and stepped up so we were only inches apart. I could feel his breath hot on my chest and when he looked up at me, I flexed my arms. "Nope," I had said, "I think you've made a mistake."
He backed away immediately, looking too shocked to be scared. Later, I had worried that he'd just pick on somebody else instead of me. I went and told him what a mistake that would be, and he slipped into a quiet obscurity that would prepare him for the rest of his life.
Anyway, it seemed that I was what they call a late developer. That included puberty, too. Up until I was 17, I still had only the sparsest of pubic hair, and my cock was still really small. You want numbers? Fine - when my dick was soft, it was only a little over an inch long and grew to a positively whopping two and a half inches when I got an erection. I could only have dry orgasms, though I could have up to three of those in a row, which was amazing even though I didn't appreciate it at the time. In showers after sports, I would look around at the other guys, each of whom were, like me, secretly pretending not to be interested while avidly inspecting each other. There was an amazing array of shapes and sizes, but one constant – they were all bigger than I was, and each of their dicks sprouted from a thick nest of curly hair. I envied them all.
The one consolation was my girlfriend. We'd been together since she'd joined the school 5 years before. She was Asian, and her mother had been promoted to managing director of the English branch of her company. My girl's name is Masoko and we plan on getting married before going off to University. Anyway, both being misfits, we bonded together and, through either luck or fate depending on your personal preference, found out that our interests and tastes meshed more or less perfectly. We had been together sexually often since we had both come of age, and I always satisfied her, either with my tongue or my hands when my small cock wasn't up to the task.
The pivotal moment, in every sense, came one day in the showers after gym, when one boy, whose name I forget, had been caught staring at Michael Delaney's dick. Michael's cock had, embarrassingly, got hard and soon everyone's was, each staring and comparing. Mine wasn't the smallest, though only by about half an inch, so I wasn't teased too much just then, but though everyone else had more or less between 4 and 5 inches of length, Michael proudly caressed 7 long, thick inches. Up until then, I had been considered quite handsome – perhaps a result of my smooth skin, slender frame and un-pimpled brow – but soon after, I'd see a girl looking at me appraisingly before her friend leaned in and whispered behind a hand something that set both of them giggling. I stopped showering with the other boys soon after.
It didn't help that my non-identical twin sister Beth had heard the rumours. She teased me most of all, winning every argument we had with a silent mime of her jerking off a minuscule penis between thumb and forefinger. Masoko saved me – the instant she heard the rumours, she came to me and took me to her place. That was when we first made love. She had, of course, already seen me naked, as I had seen her body in all its magnificence. Before that day, though, all we had done was touch each other hesitantly, more out of curiosity than desire. After we made love, she held my penis cupped in one small hand. We lay together in her bed, bathing in the juices we had produced – our sweat, her come and mine – and she said, softly, "This and your love will always be more than enough for me."
Of course, guys kept coming up to her at school and advising her to try a real man, but she just laughed them off.
After I had developed, I still didn't shower with anybody and now the whispers had changed. Now it was, "yeah, every part of his body but one got real big…" But Masoko's laughter in the halls had become a little more raucous.
I don't remember what morning it was that I realised, or if Masoko noticed me changing and just didn't say anything. I can't recall waking up and, overnight, my voice was deeper and I had a coating of thick hair in previously bald areas. I don't know if I realised that the giggles in my small swimming class had turned to jealous gasps. In short, I developed so slowly, I became habituated to the changes and was, almost comically, unaware of them. Suddenly, it seemed, I would no longer be completely buried in Masoko, no longer striving frantically to get every precious millimetre in her tight little pussy, and suddenly she would come over and over just from my cock. Suddenly, I noticed that I was always having to tug my underwear so it wasn't tightly squeezing my balls, or letting my dick spill out down the leg. Suddenly I noticed that when I got erections in class, I wasn't able to get up, certain that people wouldn't notice.
Masoko lay naked on the bed, laughing at me. "How could you not notice?" she asked me. She spoke perfect English – had learnt it simultaneously with Japanese since birth, from her American father. I looked at her seemingly pore-free skin; her small, pale breasts and the delicate, pale rose nipples perkily perched in their centre; her thick bush, spreading in wild tufts around her exquisitely soft little pussy, where glittered the thick shower white beads I had just spilt there. Already I could feel my shaft thickening and rising, just from the sight of her.
"I don't know," I replied. "Perhaps it's just the constant reinforcement I get in school. Everyone going on about my tiny dick – how it'll look even smaller now I've got muscles."
"Well what do you expect?" Masoko said. "That the little boys in your swimming class are going to go around saying, 'You know, Rob's suddenly packing a lot of meat in his trunks'?"
The right corner of my mouth involuntarily twitched into a smile. "I suppose not, no."
"Does it bother you, anyway?"
I thought for a moment and realised that I didn't care what they thought. Perhaps at 18, I had finally achieved some maturity. I leaned down and kissed Masoko, tasting strawberries on her full lips. I played against them with my tongue, ready to go again, but she laid one elegant finger on my bare chest. "Stop," she said, and hopped off the bed.
