So the next week rolled around and it was time to head back over to Ms. Hayword's place. I opened the drawer in my dorm room and look at the Speedo bathing suit she had given me to wear last time, when I had to jump in the chlorinated water to clear the drain. It was after that that she had dropped her top and caused me to get the excruciating erection. That ultimately escaped the small suit, and had led to the most conflicting combination of excitement and shame of my young life.
I set the small swimming brief on the top of the dresser and sighed. I needed the money and I had agreed to wear it this time, but the idea of going back in that was hugely disempowering.
Hugely disempowering. As huge, in fact, as my penis. I've mentioned before that most people think it's really great to be as endowed as I am, but I can assure them all that it's not all positive.
If you recall, I was 20 years old when this all happened. I was 6-2 and 180-185 and in college on a track and field scholarship so I had around 5 percent body fat. My abdomen was completely flat and that just made my "package" look even more pronounced even when flaccid. When erect, well, it was almost caricaturish.
So I undressed and slipped the suit on. I wadded myself into the small front pouch and caught a look at my reflection in the mirror. What I saw was simultaneously embarrassing and laughable. The suit was ridiculously inadequate and the folded mass of my organ was obvious. I looked like the world's worst smuggler trying to get a half pound of kielbasa out of Poland at spring break. Sighing with resignation, I pulled on a pair of shorts and a t shirt for the ride over and went down to my car.
It didn't take too long to drive from the relative slum of the student neighborhoods to the affluent section where Mrs. Hayword lived and I soon pulled up in front of the Spanish style mansion. I got out of the car and walked up the drive to her front door and rang the bell. I couldn't be sure, but I almost thought I heard the sound of female laughter inside. A second later the door opened and Ms. Hayword stood looking at me. She had on a string bikini top that strained with her big augmented breasts and had a sarong wrapped around her very wide hips. Since statistics matter in these kinds of stories I would say she was probably about 5-3 and weighed 130. I do know that her measurements (I'll explain that later) were 34E-29-38 and she had short, frosted blonde hair and dark brown eyes.
The sort of laconic smile on her face when she first opened the door, changed to a petulant frown as she looked me up and down.
"I thought we had an agreement on what you were going to wear, Scott," she said.
I blushed furiously which she seemed to like.
"Uh, I have it on," I said haltingly.
The cat-with-a-canary smile was back on her face.
"Oh goody. Of course, I expected that it was ... all... you would have on so...?"
The directive hung in the air. Smiling weakly, I swallowed hard and took off the t shirt and shorts. She looked down at my stomach and the pronounced, wadded bulge in the front of my Speedo. A big smirk spread across her face. She cleared her throat.
"Oh my, I never get over the surprise of that" she said and then recovering added, "so, you ready to clean the pool?"
It hit me. The pool equipment was still in my car.
"I need to get my stuff first," I said reaching for my clothes.
She grabbed them impishly and smiled.
"That's okay. Go get it like that."
The look on my face must have been priceless, because she laughed with a kind of surprise at the discovery of how embarrassed the very idea made me.
"Go...on," she said insistently.
Almost numb I turned and started walking back to my car. At the edge of the drive I looked around worriedly and seeing nothing I sprinted the rest of the way to my car, popped the trunk and grabbed an arm load of skimmer nets and supplies before slamming the lid down. I was just coming back around the car when an expensive SUV turned the corner and the young soccer mom behind the wheel caught a full-on look at me in the brief suit. There was nothing I could do to protect any aspect of my dignity and my face turned a furious red. The smile on her face made it all the worse.
I started back up the drive and crossed the lawn to the gate to the back yard. Raising one foot I kicked the latch and noticed as I did that the small suit gapped with the mass of my penis and balls to show a slight expanse of my scrotum. It was something I would have to keep in mind as I moved in the future, I knew.
The gate swung open and I walked around the house to the pool area. If I'd had a million years to guess I would not have been prepared for what was waiting for me there. At the edge of the pool, seated at the many tables and on chaise lounges were older women ranging in age from late thirties to one or two in their sixties. They were all dressed like they were attending a summer pool party and their wardrobe ranged from some in sun dresses to a number in swimsuits and sarongs. All of them had expectant and sort of self-congratulatory smiles on their faces as I stopped dead in my tracks and stared in dumbfounded embarrassment.
It could have been forever, but in reality it was just a few seconds before Mrs. Hayword broke the silence by saying, "Oh it's the pool boy!"
Using that term instead of my name only served to reinforce my subordinate state and the resulting grins among the woman who were looking me over made me want to turn and run away. Instead I just kept walking forward. Almost no one made eye contact. At least not a first. Every single one of them was fixated on me just below belt level where the obscenely exaggerated bulge of my Speedo stood out. My embarrassment was ever deepening, but it really increased when I heard a woman's voice say, "Well, Julie, you certainly were not exaggerating when you said he was... gifted."
The chorus of resulting laughter was like someone had grabbed my trunks and yanked them down to my ankles, and even worse, I felt a sudden surge of blood to my entrapped anatomy in the undersized swimsuit. My discomfort was now both psychological and physical as the monster began to awaken and swell. The change in that was not lost on any of those women. It's a personal weakness that sexual embarrassment causes an almost involuntary response in me. I was soon to prove the undeniable fact of that.
I heard a number of amused and surprised gasps as my bulge increased in size to almost laughable proportions. At the same time, I was dying with embarrassment, which made it grow even more. It was a vicious cycle. Within seconds the suit stretched, and it looked like I had on a cartoonishly large codpiece under the trunks. As it swelled even more from their laughter, the suit began to stretch out away from my waist so that some could actually see part of my cock, doubled over.
"Oh my god," said an attractive snooty brunette in an expensive floral sundress, "he's not human!"
A gale of laughter followed and I realized she was speaking about me, not to or including me. She was playing to the increasingly aggressive sorority of ladies around the pool and I began feeling less like a person and more like an object. I truly felt like a large phallic prop with a college guy attached to it, there for their amusement.
"He's blushing!" said a middle aged blonde with a delighted giggle.
"I'm surprised there's enough blood in his body to fill that thing and still manage to flush his face laughed one of the sixty year old women.
And worse, that somehow was making me even more erect. Suddenly Mrs. Hayword was standing next to me.
"Now, now ladies," she said patting me on the butt with one hand as she held up the other admonishingly. "This is a nice young man and very, very bashful it seems. Let's not scare him off. Or at the very least we should make him feel a lot more comfortable before we do."
