The day started out as so many had so far that summer: me standing in my bathroom, flexing for myself and inspecting the progress of all the hard work I had been putting in to achieve my goal of a full self-improvement make-over before heading off to freshman year of college. My biceps had grown significantly, as had my pec muscles, abs, and quads, but what I was most proud of was the growth between those quads. Even before I reached down to rub myself through the soft material of my gym shorts, I could already see the faint outline of my head as it strained for the bottom hem of the leg hole for a glimpse of daylight.
When I reached a hand inside the top of the elastic waistline and flopped my soft cock over the band, it fell with a loud thud against the sink. Much like a puppy who is oblivious to his wagging tail, it appeared I had still not fully gotten used to my flailing appendage's new radius. I grabbed it back up and stroked it gently in admiration. The reflection in the mirror still astounded me, as if I was watching a porn star getting warmed up before a scene instead of an 18-year-old kid, who had never even kissed a girl let alone pounded her senseless as it seemed so many of the videos portrayed.
The loud buzzing noise of my phone on the bathroom counter finally snapped me back to reality, and I was taken aback at the fact that both my hands were tightly wrapped around my meaty manhood which was now rock hard. I quickly stuffed my erection back into my shorts and grabbed my phone to check the notification.
"Pool party at Dana's tonight"!
My eyes darted back to the mirror. Shock. Awe. Excitement. A myriad of emotions ran through me all at once. At first, I was ecstatic to finally have a legitimate reason to show off my hard-earned new physique, but then I glanced down and was overwhelmed with a rash of panic. In my - heightened state - my friend was a little too anxious for attention and instead of the normal small tent in the front of my shorts that would have been embarrassing enough to deal with, I was now faced with a fully outstretched leg hole that had been strained upwards until not only the head, but about an inch of shaft was proudly bestowed.
"Can't wait," I replied, and snuck to my room to see if the netting in my bathing suits would tame the one-eyed beast lurking beneath.
Of the three options presented, only one seemed truly plausible. The first of my swimsuits was from several years prior, and I remembered them being tight even then. Before I even pulled the trunks past my knees, I felt the material scrunch around my thighs. Sure enough, I wasn't even able to get the waistline in place before needing to adjust the semi-hard eel I had ensnared in the tight fisher's net lining. Once I had wrestled it into submission, I confirmed my suspicions in the mirror on the opposite side of my bed and nearly burst out in laughter at the ridiculous bulge in the crotch in what looked like an overstuffed kielbasa sausage folded over itself.
I peeled those off, tossed them on my bed, and picked up the second option. Just holding it up to my body made me scoff. I remember my mother forcing me to buy the skimpy speedo swim trunks on a vacation to England a summer ago, and me hating them even then. As if my scrawny frame needed any help to get me picked on and ridiculed at the beach, the tight material left very little to the imagination. Figuring it would at least be worth a laugh, I stepped my legs through the holes and yanked the spandex up. The coil of my now flaccid member piled on top of the squished sack beneath it created a softball sized bean bag tumor to jut out in front, which was only made more ridiculous by the fact that on either side were googly eyed testicles.
By default, a modest pair of loose-fitting board shorts that came about mid-thigh won out. The originally bright shorts had faded through years of use to a dull, pastel orange, and the elastic netting inside them had long since given up the tug of war battle. Regardless, the drawstring still tied tight in front and held them in place on my hips. I turned to inspect my reflection from all angles and was pleased that there was no comical bulge in the crotch or other immediately apparent fashion faux pas. With my decision made, I stripped them off again and went about my morning routine.
My mid-morning workout went extra well, as I had the added motivation of getting a nice body pump in order to present the best possible body at the party. After my usual circuit, my body still craved more, so I decided to go for a run in order to burn off some of the extra energy. I threw on my shoes and was out the door in a flash.
The first two blocks of my usual route are mostly through quiet side streets with very little traffic, so I am able to run in the street instead of up on the uneven sidewalks. When I checked my smart watch, I was shocked to see I was on pace to beat my personal best by over a whole minute. I attributed my quicker time to the slight breeze I felt to my back, but couldn't help but feel an extra bounce in my step as I made the turn toward the slight uphill stretch that opened to a large public park.
Unsurprisingly, the park was packed with people since it was a moderate, sunny day. Several elderly women donning coordinated track suits power walked around the all-weather track, a large group of people played a game of pick-up volleyball, as well as a large number of smaller groups and individuals sporadically spaced out in the park who laid on blankets or the grass to tan or simply take in the lovely day. As I approached the group of women on the track, I smiled and waved.
One of the women said something and another gave her a playful slap on the arm and then waved at me. With my headphones in, I couldn't make out what she had said, but continued on my way. As I rounded the corner of the track, I saw a group of girls who graduated last year and must've come home from college seated in a circle on the inside of the track in the opposite corner. From my peripheral, I noticed one of them nudge another and nod my way. My insides were a flutter, but I did my best to focus on my breath and pretend I hadn't noticed them.
Since I knew I had an audience, I increased my gate even further and felt my heart pumping in my chest...and not just because of the running. A quick check of my watch confirmed both my pulse and pace were elevated past my normal levels. The glance to my watch, of course, was a thinly veiled attempt to sneak another peek to the girls, who were now all turned to me. I heard what I thought were cat calls followed by giggles and strained not to look.
Once I was past the girls, I slowed to my normal stride. The change in step caused an awkward shift of weight and I nearly stumbled. I felt a rush of embarrassment, as I was sure the girls had all just seen me almost tumble, but that anxiety was instantly replaced when the shuffle also drew something else to my attention.
I glanced down, and noticed that, in my haste to get out the door, I had forgotten to put on my loose gym shorts over my compression boxers that I typically work out in. My face must have turned into a crimson red, as I came to terms with the reality that I was a thin, stretched out, spandex fabric away from frolicking in public bottomless. To make matters worse, the attention from the girls had made an unmistakable and completely obvious impact on me as the limits of the tight compression shorts were further tested.
Whether it was my own paranoia or reality, I felt the eye of every park-goer on me as I made a concerted effort to not jiggle; the only problem was, that in doing so, I also slowed my pace and shortened my gate which would only mean longer exposure. After a quick internal weighing of the pros and cons, I reasoned that I would shortly be wearing even less clothing at a pool party and this was a good way to get comfortable with any nerves I may have.
