By the time Saturday night rolls around, I'm in full-on panic mode because my dick hasn't grown at all. No additional length, no additional girth. In fact, my measurements are exactly the same as they were when I first measured in Elroy's lab.

"What happened to my extra quarter inch?" I bark into the phone.

"You could at least start the conversation with a hello," Elroy replies.

But I don't have time for manners. Audrey will be at my house in an hour, and my dick just won't do.

"What happened to my extra quarter inch?" I repeat. "I think Chub Potion Number Nine 2.0 shrunk my dick! The Horny Goat Weed is a disaster."

Elroy sighs before he says, "Peter, that extra quarter inch wasn't documented. Maybe it was there, or maybe it was all just in your head."

There's a pause on the line, before Elroy continues.

"It's all about blood flow anyway," he says. "You probably do have an extra quarter of an inch in you, or more, but you need Audrey to... rise to the occasion."

Elroy rambles on about how "the literature" says penis size really isn't as important as men think, but what I think is that I don't have time for one of Elroy's science lectures. I need some big dick magic pronto. 

So, I hang up, pull down my pants, and look in the mirror. In its flaccid state, my dick looks like the top of a mushroom that's been glued onto my body. When it grows, it looks like that mushroom top is attached to a baby carrot. What I need, I realize, is a cucumber.

So I pull up my pants and race to the kitchen. My parents have gone out for the evening, so I have the kitchen to myself. I open the fridge and find three cucumbers.

I arrange the three cucumbers on the counter by size. The biggest one is about a foot, and it has girth for days. I stuff it into my underwear, but it's a real challenge zipping up my pants. For a moment, I wonder how the big-dong porno dudes manage to get dressed in the morning. But then I remember that they have to be naked for their jobs, so I guess it's not really an issue.

Finally, I manage to get my pants on over the cucumber. On the upside, my package looks bulky and ready to deliver. On the downside, I can't really walk without the end of the cucumber jabbing me in my real dick. Also, half the cucumber runs down my left leg, which is impressive, but by no means subtle. So, I decide to try the next biggest cucumber.

That one has a weird curve to it, so it looks like I'm permanently pitching a tent. I guess that's not a bad thing when you're dating a size queen, but it's still a little tough to walk. 

So, reluctantly, I reach for the smallest cucumber. It's about seven inches long, and the girth is just so-so. But, it fits! It fits! 

Actually, when I look at my package, it looks almost natural, like the bulge in my jeans is totally organic, which I suppose it is, if the food labels are to be believed. I just hope Audrey believes that the bulge in my pants is the real deal.

Of course, the moment I get into Audrey's car, my heart sinks. The cucumber in my pants gives me the confidence I need, but I suddenly I realize the flaw in my plan. And it's a really big flaw, like an exhaust shaft in a Death Star that's big enough for a proton torpedo.

I can't show Audrey my penis. 

In fact, I need to keep Audrey away from my penis. 

Because if she discovers the cucumber, I'm screwed. I mean, not screwed. I mean, screwed in the non-sexual sense.

So, from the moment I say hi, I spend the night with Audrey playing keep-away. It's not that easy, because Audrey is kind of handsy. Which is actually nice. I love it when Audrey puts her hand on my arm, or my knee. That familiar electric currents runs through me whenever Audrey touches me. But if her public displays of affection at George's party are a sneak preview of coming attractions, I could be in a lot of trouble.

As it turns out, we don't stay long at George's party. Audrey doesn't drink and neither do I, so neither one of us wants to hang out and play drinking games. But I notice something else at the party. Audrey seems, well, not quite like herself. She's a little more reserved, a little on guard.

Pretty much everyone at the party goes to John Wayne High School, which is where Audrey went before her parents decided to homeschool her for her senior year. I still need to ask her about that, because it seems a little weird to homeschool at the very end of high school. But I get the sense that Audrey doesn't want to talk about herself around her former classmates. So, when she squeezes my hand and asks if I want to go somewhere else, I get the hint.

"Sure," I say.

We drive around in silence for a few minutes before Audrey breaks the silence.

"Are you friends with those kids?" she asks.

"Not really," I say. "I kind of just met them this week."

Since I don't really want to explain how I met George and the other kids, I add, "I'm friends with Elroy."

"Elroy's cool," she says. "We're movie-buddies."

"Yeah, he mentioned that he likes French movies."

"But his friends are kind of..." Audrey pauses before finishing her sentence. "Dicks."

"Oh."

"People around here," she says, "they just follow the crowd, you know. That's what's so annoying about the people at that party. I mean, those are the smartest kids in school, supposedly. And the only thing they can think to do on a Saturday night is play beer pong, just like the jocks. It's pathetic, don't you think?"

"I never really thought about it like that," I say.

"That's why I need to get the hell out of Texas," she says.

"To where?"

"New York. I'm applying to every art school in New York."

We drive for a little more, and as we do, Audrey asks me about New York - a city she's read tons about, but never visited. I want to ask her more about the kids at the party and why she left John Wayne High School, but I get the sense that if I do, it'll upset her. So, New York it is.

Until all of a sudden, Audrey pulls off the road into a field. 

"What are we doing here?" I ask.

Audrey parks the car and just smiles.

"Nice field," I say.

"As far as fields go," she says. "Let's talk in the backseat. It's more comfortable there."

So we get out and then get into the backseat. But we don't talk. Because the minute both doors close, we lock lips.

The more we kiss, the harder I get. But that makes it hurt because my dick is pressing up against the cucumber.

The cucumber!  

Suddenly, I remember the cucumber, and my make out session turns into a panic attack. I have to keep Audrey away from my crotch. But out here in the middle of nowhere, the two of us in the backseat with our lips locked together, the windows of the car steamy with our heat, I'm pretty sure that whatever happens, my crotch is going to play a major role.

I want to say something, but then again, I can't think of anything to say. Because my hands are on Audrey's boobs. My hands are on her boobs! And as I cup her boobs and squeeze them, I can't think about anything, not the chilly awkwardness at the party, not the deception in my pants, not even the sensation of Audrey's tongue pressing against mine. None of it. With my hands on Audrey's boobs, all I can think is: boobs, boobs, boobs. I have a boob-track mind.

Which is why I don't notice Audrey climbing on top of me. It's a little clumsy, because we don't really break our kiss, but after some fumbling, Audrey is straddling my lap. And she's grinding. Hard. She's grinding hard on me.

Actually, she's grinding hard on the cucumber in my pants.

Which hurts.

Because the harder Audrey grinds, the more she pushes the cucumber into my dick. 

And my dick is really hard from all the kissing and the boob-touching.

So, I on my end it's dick against cucumber, which hurts like hell.

But on Audrey's end, it's pure pleasure. 

A lot of pleasure.

She's moans and grinds and makes sounds that I've never heard a girl make before. Not a real life girl anyway.

And as Audrey rides my, um, cucumber, I can sense her building to something big. 

"Oh Peter," she moans.

Suddenly, her body shakes with a jolt, and she collapses into me. And we sit there panting, holding each other. 

Then, slowly, Audrey climbs off of me. And I look down at my crotch. The cucumber looks different. As if it has been mashed up and crushed, which I guess it has.  

There's a wet spot on my crotch. And in my pants I feel the wetness too. The cucumber must've broken with Audrey grinding on it. But Audrey doesn't realize the wet spot is from the water contained inside the cucumber. She thinks the wet spot is me.

"I don't know why they call it dry-humping," she says. "I think we're both all wet."

Then she kisses me gently on the lips, places her head on my shoulder, and snuggles up next to me.

Thanks for reading!

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