Of the freaky fiction fun fest featuring falsity-free fables, like "Why We Were Wet When Wayne Went Whistling With His Windows Wide Open"

Actually, I won't be telling that story. I don't even know anyone named Wayne.

But I do know someone named Skype, and I was just talking to him last night. Actually, I was able to assemble the dream team of George, Autumn, and Chris for a little campfire style storytelling, and it brought up a few stories that I remember from a few years back that I never got to share with you guys. So here we go; consider this post a sort of making up for lost time.

So the first story is from my sophomore year back when my buddy Jake went to my school. One of my fondest memories of that one involves, you guessed it, penises.

I'm walking down the hallway one random ass afternoon when he comes up to me out of breath and claiming to have the secret to increasing one's dick size by a considerable few inches over the course of a week. Naturally, I was intrigued. I inquired further to receive a quote that I would use for years: "Fold that shit in half."

Yes, he was referring to actually folding one's penis in half. And no, I was not going to do it. I'm not retarded. I told him this and he admitted that he was making it up.

"But it was funny, yeh?"

"I think I know what would be funnier."

I think he was already one step ahead of me on this one, because by the time I got outside later that day, he had already assembled quite the posse of young, impressionable freshmen boys. Being the bastards that we were (and still are), we informed them of this amazing secret.

"You guys know we have the biggest cocks in the school, right?"

"No doubt about it."

"Know how we got so big?"

"Do tell."

"It's so simple. Fold that shit in half."


A full ten seconds pass. Then we hear some fat kid in the back speak up.

"...How do you get it to stay?"

I just about died. But I tried to maintain my composure for a little more, because I knew I could milk this one for all it was worth.

"Rubber band that shit, dude! God!"

That was it. The seed had been planted. And the next day, we reaped the sweet, sweet fruit. It was quite a sight. Picture this: twenty-something freshmen hobbling down the hallway, an expression of utmost suffering on their faces. A poor, wretched soul approaches with sweat dripping down his face. "Dude...how can you stand it?"

I pointed towards the lunch line. "See that curvy, sexy senior? Know what she wants? She demands a cock big enough to make her scream for mercy and leave her just destroyed. You want to give her that, don't you? All she needs from you is for you to suck it up, quit being a pussy, and put a rubber band on your dick. Got it?"

"Got it!"

"I don't care. Go away."

Of course most of them figured it out within a few hours. Only one of them, the fat kid, was enough of a trooper to go for an entire week. The devoted cock master came up to me and Jake and asked us why he wasn't any bigger, and why he had no more feeling in his dick.

"Well, have you been taking cold showers?"

"I was supposed to be taking cold showers?"

"Yeah, dumbass! Everyone knows that!"

"So, I need to keep the rubber band on my dick while I shower, too?"

"Naw, son. Don't put a rubber band on your dick. That's a dumb thing to do."

Buh-boom, TSSH.

I think the only other story you're gonna get out of me today is one that happened about a week ago in Physics class. I have that as my last class of the day, and so we were all a little on edge and ready to get out of there because it was homecoming. Behind me sits a lovely little couple that has been dating on and off and they are huge fans of public displays of affection no matter how uncomfortable it makes the people around them. Established.

Today, however, we're in for a little treat. Correction: HE'S in for a little treat. They're sitting very close to each other, him on the left and her on the right, facing the front of the classroom. Please remember that class is currently in session. That's important.

All of a sudden, her left shoulder starts moving. It starts moving pretty fast, actually. There's the occasional noise here and there, at least enough to warrant further investigation. Not from the teacher, however, he's busy doing whatever. But the boy's face is just beat red, dripping with sweat, and making this twisted face that just screamed out "I'm getting a handjob during class!"

Oh, one can only imagine the repercussions of this little display. I'll spare you the details of our anguish; needless to say the suffering was unbearable. But this goes on for a few minutes until it all comes to a stop. There's no way she finished him, we thought. There's no way she finished him. There's no way she finished him.

Lo and behold, he stands up not even ten seconds later, sporting quite the stain on the front of his pants. Imagine the shock. Imagine the disgust. Imagine the suffering. All of us who were in that classroom are now dead inside.

But not one of us suffered more than my poor friend Steve, who did not witness this act and was therefore unaware of the impending danger. For as we all stared in disbelief at the enormous stain, her hands were playing with poor Steve's hair. He had no idea that he was being used as a towel; he thought nothing of it. Alas, I have not seen that boy smile again since that fateful Friday afternoon.