I've had some pretty disturbing wet dreams in my life, including one where I'm wearing the gold bikini and I'm making out with Jabba the Hutt, who for some reason is wearing a leather vest, which somehow fits across his flabby lizard body. That dream left a deep scar in my sexual psyche. But the dream that wakes me up is even more disturbing.

I'm on a stage. There's a spotlight on me. I can't quite see the audience, but I know that they're there in the way that you know things in dreams. I also know that I'm naked. Totally naked. Then somewhere from the darkness, I hear Becky Spade. She tells me to show the audience my tiny dick. So I remove my hands from my groin, and the moment I do the audience erupts in laughter.

That's when I see Becky Spade. It's as if she's floating there in the darkness. Her eyes are as cold as steal, and her face is unforgiving. 

"You need a bigger banana," she hisses.

Suddenly, I have an erection.

"Thanks for rising to the occasion," Becky Spade says. But from the tone in her voice I can tell that she's making a joke. Plus the audience laughs, which gives me that deflated feeling you get when you realize that you're the crowd's punchline. Except for some reason, I feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through me. It's as if I like the humiliation.

"Why don't you stroke that teeny-tiny peen, Peter?"

And I do.

The more Becky Spade mocks my small dick, the harder I stroke my dick. It's an endless circle of mocking, humiliation, and shame all wrapped up into the weirdest sex dream I've ever had. And then it gets weirder. Because Becky Spade takes her top off. 

Except Becky Spade's boobs aren't her boobs. I mean, I've never seen her real life boobs. I always assumed Becky Spade had perfectly symmetrical milky white handfuls. But these boobs, Becky Spade's dream boobs, look like bear traps. They're metal - somehow. And they have sharp, jagged teeth that snap - somehow. And as Becky Spade floats toward me, I get the feeling that her boobs are headed for my dick. Except there's nothing I can do to stop her. And for some reason my feet seem glued in place. 

"Slide that tiny dick between my boobs, Peter."

Suddenly her snapping-metal-teeth-boobs grab hold of my tiny dick, and I can feel a terrible cutting and tearing in my groin.

"And that's when you woke up?" Elroy asks.

I nod. We're sitting in the cafeteria at a table in the back. I've been out of sorts all morning, thanks to the dream. And so I asked Elroy if we could talk over lunch.

"Was it a wet dream?" Elroy asks.

"Almost. It could've gone either way. But as I woke up, I remembered that I'm not supposed to, um, you know..."

"Engage in any sexual activity."

"Right."

"But you were erect?"

I pause.

"Peter, it's a perfectly valid medical question."

I nod.

"Here's the thing," I say. "Is it possible that this ban on whacking off is like, messing with my mind and creating these weird sex dreams? You know how sometimes you get this tunnel vision if you haven't jerked it in a while, and pretty much anything or anyone can be sexual? Like one time, and I'm not proud of this, I had a dream about Admiral Ackbar."

"Admiral Ackbar?"

"He was very gentle. We were on his spaceship. I think it was his spaceship. It had a hot tub. And..."

"It's interesting that you mention Admiral Ackbar," Elroy says.

"It is?"

"Well, I'm not an expert in dream analysis."

"I think that goes without saying."

"But I've read deeply on the subject. And it's interesting that you selected Admiral Ackbar as an example, given what we know about the subconscious."

"Huh?"

"What's Admiral Ackbar's most famous line?"

"It's a trap."

"Exactly!"

"I don't follow."

"You described Becky Spade's boobs as a trap. I believe you likened them to bear traps. At first, as you were describing them, I thought, this is a classic vagina dentata."

"A what?"

"Vagina dentata. It's a myth, really a fear, common to all cultures. Literally it means vagina with teeth. The idea is that the myth illustrates a common male fear that sexual intercourse might result in castration, emasculation, or some other kind of injury - physical or psychological. It's normal, but it's also pretty messed up, when you think about it. Because men both desire and fear women, which probably says a lot about why society is so messed up."

"Wait. So, I'm afraid of Becky Spade?"

"I think the entire school is afraid of Becky Spade," Elroy says. "But in your case, the fear is only personified by Becky Spade. The root fear is that sex will destroy you."

"Sex will destroy me? But I haven't even had sex. I mean, I want to have sex. And I guess I'm a little nervous, but I don't think it'll destroy me."

"Of course you do. Peter, think about the lengths you went to make your penis bigger. You don't do that unless you have a deep psychological need to do so. But now that you've realized that you can't make your penis bigger, you have to face the fact that when you have sex, your partner will see and experience the real you."

"OK."

"So, that's terrifying to you. In fact, the fear is so great that your subconscious is screaming out to you in your dreams that sex might just destroy you."

"Destroy me?"

"In the psychological sense," Elroy says. "Think of it this way. Your identity with Audrey is that of a desirable male."

"Well, I like to think I'm desirable."

"You are. At least to Audrey."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Elroy says. "But your big fear is that Audrey is a size queen, and you lack the adequate size to please her. Thus, when, or rather if, you two engage in sexual intercourse, her image of you, or rather the image you've constructed of yourself in her eyes, will be destroyed."

"Wow."

"Deep, right?"

"Deeper than you could possibly know."

I decide not to tell Elroy about the cucumber incident. But something tells me that pretending to have a big penis isn't helping my subconscious.

"I thought it was just a stress dream," I say. "You know, like when you have a big test."

"It was a stress dream. And you do have a big test coming up, Peter. Because sooner or later, you're going to have to face the truth with Audrey."

I push the food around on my plate. I know Elroy's right. But I've gotten this far with Audrey without telling the truth, and part of me, OK all of me, wishes I could keep the lie going.

"It probably doesn't help that Audrey's been bombarding the school with dick pics," Elroy says.

"What?"

"I said, it probably doesn't help that Audrey's been bombarding the school with dick pics."

"Wait. Audrey is the one behind free the peen?"

"Of course," Elroy says. "I didn't realize it at first. Truth is, kids around here don't talk about Audrey since she was expelled last year. She sort of ceased to exist, which is why I'm pretty sure the rest of the school still thinks it was you. I'm the only one who even stayed friends with her."

"But you thought it was me," I say.

"Well, at first, sure. But that's only because Principal Boone seemed to think it was you, and so everyone else just kind of assumed, and then the guilt thing just kind of snowballed. Crowds are funny like that."

"But how do you know it's Audrey?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

I don't respond, so Elroy lays it out for me.

"Audrey was expelled for collecting dick pics," he says. "Specifically, dick pics from football players."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know... I guess because she's a size queen," Elroy says. "Anyway, she was expelled. It was a big scandal. And I guess this is her revenge."

"Her revenge?"

"Audrey didn't love school."

"Who does?" I ask.

"Well, the football players do. Or did, before the whole free the peen thing. But that's not what I'm getting at. She hated this place for the most part, but she loved the art classes. I don't know if you've noticed, but we have pretty great facilities here."

"So?"

"So, whenever I hang out with Audrey she's always complaining about how her art supplies are pretty limited now that she's homeschooling."

"OK?"

"Let me break it down, Peter. One: your girlfriend has the dick pics. Two: she has ample motive for revenge. Three: the free the peen art requires a certain skillset that Audrey has."

I must look surprised because Elroy adds that he thought I knew that Audrey was behind free the peen.

"I didn't," I say. "But maybe I should've."

"Don't beat yourself up, Peter. Your subconscious was probably just trying to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes an obvious truth can hurt us, so our subconscious protects us through denial."

"I don't follow."

"Peter, think of it this way. If you had to face the fact that Audrey was plastering dick pics all over school, it would be as if your girlfriend was taunting you, daring you to do the one thing you don't want to do."

"Tell her the truth about my penis."

"Exactly. Your dream wasn't about Becky Spade. It was about Audrey."

And that's when it hits me. Free the peen hasn't just struck fear into the hearts of the school's football players, it's struck fear into my own heart. There were five more free the peen displays this morning, making a total of eight. I'm not sure what happens when the Twitter account reaches eleven of eleven, but I'm pretty sure it's bad news.

"It's like a ticking cock," I say.

"What?"

"Free the peen. When it the cock strikes eleven, I'm doomed."

"You mean clock," Elroy says. "You said cock, when you meant to say clock."

"Oh... I guess..."

"Don't worry about it, Peter. It's just a Freudian slip."

"What does that mean?"

"It means there's another shoe to drop in your subconscious."

"What could it be?"

Elroy shrugs.

"Like I said, I'm a high school student who dabbles in psychology. It could be nothing. Or it could be the key to the entire riddle that is you and your obsession with your penis."

"Well, which is it?"

"I'm not sure. But what I do know is that lunch ended ten minutes ago, and we're both late for our next class."

"But what do I do?"

Elroy gets up.

"Tell her the truth, Peter. You must confront the size queen. It is your dick-destiny."

🙌Thanks for reading!🙌

In this chapter, Peter shares some pretty weird dreams. What's the weirdest dream you've ever had?☁️

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