Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction for entertainment only. Any resemblances to real people, places and events (past, present or future) is unintentional. It contains graphic sexual content which the author does not endorse. Practice sex safely and legally.
Magnificently Mortifying Modelling Maladies Chapter 01: Martin's Mistaken Identity
SEPTEMBER 2023
EVERYTHING
Martin straightened his tie as he walked towards the double doors and then grasped the handle before pulling it towards himself. The door didn't budge; he pushed the door and it opened into a small foyer. Martin hoped no-one saw him pulling a push door like an idiot. He wasn't an idiot! He had a first class honours degree from Swanwharf University, which was ranked Modern University of the Year 2023. Martin was twenty-five years old and had graduated in English Language and Literature.
After his degree, Martin had studied for a PGDE (post graduate degree in education) and worked at a fairly average school for a year. When the job was advertised for a post at the St. Mervyn Poshford School, an independent boys school, he jumped at the chance. His potential salary, like the fees paid by the boys who went there, was outrageous! He had passed the first interview and offered the job after a second interview.
The Head Master had asked him to attend for a physical for medical insurance purposes but his contract would be ready to start within the next few days. It was for the physical that Martin was attending the school today and he hoped for a tour; he wanted to see his classroom, meet some of the staff and to familiarise himself with the prestigious facilities the school had to offer.
Martin caught his reflection in the glass door as he entered the school. He was a good-looking young man; 5ft 11 (1.8m) tall with a respectable upper body and biceps, a narrow waist and muscular legs. His skin was lightly bronzed from a recent holiday and would stay that way for months. His hair was short and light brown, his eyes were green and his face was clean shaven. His body was naturally sparce when it came to hair – a small nest in each armpit and above his penis and a few whisps in the middle of his chest. His legs and thighs were smooth with only a peach fuzz of growth that was almost invisible at a distance and felt downy to touch.
Not that Martin had many people touching him.
Martin was cute but a little too handsome to be called cute. Hot was not a stretch.
He was wearing black trousers and a short black blazer with a red and navy coloured tie. Martin was approaching the reception where a smiling man (the smile did not reach the eyes) looked up and pasted on a polite expression. The receptionist was actually checking Martin out and liked what he saw but it wouldn't do to allow just anyone to know that.
"..." the receptionist was about to talk.
"There you are!" said a voice.
Martin's attention swept to the right.
The person who had spoken was medium height with brown eyes and a round, friendly face. His eyes were framed by almost-circular, chrome-framed glasses and he had a very short beard and short, brown hair. His suit jacket was open but it was hard to tell what his physique looked like beneath the white shirt – certainly, he had no girth around his abdomen. Martin guessed the man was in his mid-thirties and perhaps a few years older.
"Come on," the man said. "You'll be late."
The man gestured impatiently for Martin to follow. The unnamed receptionist shrugged disinterestedly and Martin hurried to meet the man who had clearly been expecting him.
"Hi," Martin said as he offered his hand to the other man. "I'm Martin Williams."
"Marcus Wainwright," the other man replied but he didn't sound quite as pompous as the name suggested.
Maybe about 80% as pompous as the name suggested.
"I'm here for my..." Martin started to say.
"Yes, yes, yes..." Marcus interrupted impatiently.
They were walking down a series of corridors with the doors on each side that were offset and leading into different classrooms. The classrooms were in session and the students looked studious. A right turn took them into another corridor.
"I do know why you're here," Marcus finished. "In here."
Marcus opened a door for Martin and they both stepped inside. The room was longer than it was wide. It had a desk behind which there were several shelves with books and binders. The desk had a computer on it, the screen facing away from them since the chair was on the opposite side from where Martin and Marcus were standing. On the opposite side of the room from the desk was a door. The room was not what Martin had been expecting; he had expected an examination table and maybe a wall chart for testing his vision.
"Ok, just take your clothes off," Marcus said.
"Oh... really?" Martin sounded surprised. "You're the doctor?"
"Yes, I'm Doctor Wainwright but Mr Wainwright will do nicely," he replied dryly. "Now, please undress, Martin."
Martin was too nervous and polite to ask why Marcus should be addressed as Mr Wainwright while he was addressed by his first name. Instead, Martin took off his blazer and looked for somewhere to put it.
"I'll take it," Mr Wainwright said.
Mr Wainwright extended his arm and Martin handed over his jacket. Martin hadn't realised the doctor would watch him undressing; Martin felt nervous stripping as another man watched him, but he continued. He unknotted his tie and left the two sides framing the buttons of his shirt. Martin unbuttoned the cuffs to buy time because he was quite nervous about being examined by a handsome young doctor.
Cuffs done, Martin unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders.
"Nice. You have a nice physique," Mr Wainwright commented.
Mr Wainwright had folded Martin's jacket and set it aside on a table to his left so he could accept the shirt and tie which he also folded. Martin unlaced his shoes and pulled them and his socks off.
"How do you keep fit, Martin?" Mr Wainwright asked.
"I like swimming and running. I play football, rugby and tennis," Martin listed. "I'm not very good at tennis."
"It shows. The activity, I mean. You have a great figure," Mr Wainwright complimented. "Perfect."
Was Martin imagining it or was there something faintly sexually suggestive about his last comment? Martin didn't have much of a gaydar or a straightdar or an anythingdar. Martin handed over his shoes with the socks tucked inside and Mr Wainwright placed them on the table with the shirt, tie and jacket on top.
Nervously, Martin undid his belt and opened his trousers. Unzipping them, he felt a tingle in his groin like he might pee himself. Martin hated this part – he hated being naked or nearly naked in front of people. Martin had never liked undressing around other people and the exclusive attention of a stranger was particularly unsettling. Martin pushed down the trousers and folded them for Mr Wainwright before handing them over. Martin was embarrassed to be stood in nothing but hipster boxers – an underwear choice that he made because he didn't like baggy boxers or briefs.
Moreover, the hipster boxers helped to hide Martin's big secret.
His big secret remained obscured for now but not for long.
"Everything," Mr Wainwright said as if talking to an idiot.
"Everything?" Martin repeated.
"How are we going to see anything if you still have those on?" Mr Wainwright asked acerbically.
Martin distracted himself with the use of the word "we" as a group pronoun referring to himself and Doctor Wainwright. "We" could also be used as a plural pronoun or...
"Martin? Can you hurry up?" Mr Wainwright admonished.
"Right. Yes. Ok," Martin replied.
Martin slipped his hand into his underwear to covered his genitals then used his other hand to push the hipster boxers down. They passed his knees and dropped around his feet where Martin stepped out of them; bending over to picked them up while still covering his big secret.
Martin tried not to look Mr Wainwright in the eyes as he handed them over. He was blushing and cringing because most guys sneaked a peek at other guys in the locker room or the showers at the gym. It was just idle curiosity. But if the doctor was telling him to get naked then eventually he'd need to move his hands and show off what he had.
Mr Wainwright took the hipster boxers from Martin and was absolutely beside himself with glee as he looked at Martin who now used both hands to cover his genitals. Martin had a very nice physique with good muscle definition and smooth, flawless skin. The neat pile of pubes partiality peeked past Martin's hands and was a tempting offer of what lay beneath.
Mr Wainwright placed the boxers on the top of the pile and then used a key to unlock a plastic drawer that slipped free from its storage space. Mr Wainwright placed the shoes in first and everything else in on top, then slipped the drawer back into its groove and locked it again.
"I understand that undressing can be a bit embarrassing so it's ok to cover up for now," Mr Wainwright appealingly. "But you understand that you will need to expose yourself once we're in the other room?"
"The other room?" Martin asked apprehensively.
Mr Wainwright gestured to the door behind him.
"Shall we?" Mr Wainwright asked rhetorically.
Martin appreciated there was no examination table or any of the usual paraphernalia necessary for a medical exam so his question had, perhaps, been foolish. Martin wished he'd been offered some kind of gown though. Without waiting for a response, or rather because no response had been forthcoming, Mr Wainwright walked to the door and opened it.
"Come on, Martin," Mr Wainwright said as he entered the other room.
Martin followed Mr Wainwright, but he was acutely aware that he was getting farther from his clothes which were now locked up so even if he wanted them back, he couldn't get them without Mr Wainwright. Matin was at the stranger's mercy. Beyond the door was a partition that blocked the view of the room – Martin guessed it was so that anyone in the examination room wouldn't be exposed as soon as anyone opened the office door. He appreciated this discretion which was a kindness to patients while they were being physically examined.
Martin followed Mr Wainwright around the partition and came to a sudden, gut clenching halt as he saw where he was. Martin, the new teacher who was only expecting a medical exam, was now standing, totally naked, in a classroom with twelve schoolboys looking at him.
He was in an Art class.
MISTAKE
The expressions of the boys were curious, happy and smirking.
Oh fuck. OH FUCK!
Martin, Mr Williams, was totally bare, butt-ass, naked in a classroom.
There must be some kind of mistake.
"Good morning Year 13," Mr Wainwright said. "This is our art model for today."
Art model? No no no no no no no no no no no no! This was a mistake!
"Good morning, Mr Wainwright," the boys chorused automatically.
There was something of a low-level condescension from the boys – an arrogance that Martin had encountered repeatedly during his interviews. The school, with its prestige and the small fortune that it cost to attend, meant it was very exclusive, extremely affluent and more than a little classist.
"This is our model, Martin Williams," Mr Wainwright told them.
Fuck, he'd be fully named and about to be shamed. His hands tightened over his groin and all it hid.
"Eh..." Martin squeaked.
"Say good morning, Martin," Mr Wainwright encouraged him.
"Good... morning..." Martin said.
He was slightly trembling as he addressed the assembled group of Sixth Formers. If they were Year 13, that meant they were all seventeen or eighteen. They looked like young men.
"Well, come in. Come closer where everyone can see you," Mr Wainwright prompted.
Everyone.
See.
The words pounded into Martin's brain and glued his feet to the floor.
"Eh..." Martin tried again. "I think... I think there might have been a mix-up."
"What kind of mix up?" Mr Wainwright asked shortly.
Several of the boys sniggered. They were well used to Mr Wainwright's fair but strict approach to teaching and he was talking to the model as if he were an errant schoolboy.
"I'm not..." Martin started to say.
How could he tell them he wasn't a nude art model and was actually a teacher.
"You've never modelled before?" Mr Wainwright asked patiently.
Well, that was a quandary because technically Martin had modelled before. He'd started an OnlyFans during his university years. Martin had only ever posted twenty-seven pictures and one video, none of them showing his face, and then stopped. He still made money from the pictures despite not updating it for three years.
"No, I have," Martin answered honestly.
He was talking mostly to the floor and answered honestly because he didn't want to lie. Martin was about to add "but..." but he was too late because Mr Wainwright moved quickly on.
"Great. I understand you're probably nervous because this is a school," Mr Wainwright conceded. "You've probably never been naked in front of teenage boys before?"
"No," Martin replied sheepishly.
"Come closer and I'll introduce everyone," Mr Wainwright said.
"Yea, come closer."
"We're really excited."
A few boys offered other encouragements and murmurs of agreement. They were of course looking forward to seeing more of the naked man. The students were hoping that Mr Wainwright would tell the stud to move his hands and let them see the glorious gonads he was hiding. They expected an ugly dude to be modelling, not such a handsome young man.
Martin shuffled into the middle of the room. It wouldn't hurt to model for a little while, would it? He'd already embarrassed himself after all. He could explain to Mr Wainwright after the class and they'd sort something out. Right?
Martin stood in the middle of the room – hands firmly clamped over his penis and testicles – but his arse was exposed and the boys on either side of him could now see his petite rump. The artists each had a desk but the flat top could be angled when drawing something. The desks were arranged in a semi-circle around the middle where Martin was now standing. Directly in front of him were seven desks with a narrow gap between them. There was a larger gap between these seven and the remaining desks – three on Martin's left and two on the right.
"Great," Mr Wainwright enthused. "Martin, let me introduce the artists."
Martin had no choice but to look at the teenagers now. Mr Wainwright started with the middle seven desks, working left to right as Martin looked at them.
"This is Alfred, Harry, Conrad, Morgan, Edwin and Boris," Mr Wainwright introduced.
Each of them inclined their heads politely.
"Then there is Quintin, Graham and Seth," Mr Wainwright indicated the three on Martin's left periphery.
Martin looked over and smiled nervously – clamping his hands tighter around his genitals for fear the side view would betray him.
"And on your right is Knox and Winston," Mr Wainwright concluded.
"Hi," Martin said nervously.
Mr Wainwright was going to enjoy this next bit enormously.
"Let's not waste any more," Mr Wainwright said. "Why don't we start by studying our subject. Comments? What do you see?"
"A man," said Alfred.
"He's quite tall?" Conrad offered.
"How tall are you?" asked Morgan.
He was the first boy to direct a question at him and Martin felt a little intimidated by it. He was supposed to be the man in the room – a teacher. Fuck, how was he ever going to live this down?
"I'm one metre eighty," Martin answered.
"He's totally fit," Uther said what he saw.
"He's got good muscular definition," Harry was more specific.
"He's got a tight ass," Boris commented from his vantage point at the far right.
Martin didn't want to talk about how tight his ass was. That would be another embarrassment. People seldom understood.
"Martin, would you mind turning around and showing all the student's your rear?" Mr Wainwright requested.
Martin turned 180 degrees and there was a little noise of appreciation. He couldn't believe he was showing his bare ass to high school students; students he would need to teach in a week's time.
"Boris was right, he does have a tight ass," said Conrad.
"No hair on his back or crack," Harry added.
"Yea, nice thighs and he's quite smooth," Edwin added.
"Do you shave, Martin?" Morgan asked.
Martin didn't love how Mr Wainwright spoke to him – clipped and authoritative but the man had confused him for a model, not a colleague. The boy on the other hand? Morgan? He seemed to bark his questions as if telling Martin to heel, sit or beg.
"No," Martin replied sheepishly.
"You don't shave?" Mr Wainwright repeated. "Most adult men have more hair than Martin, obviously but he will still be an interesting specimen."
This only served to call more attention to Martin's smoothness while also being quite insulting and embarrassing. Martin was in a room with testosterone fuelled boys who were getting bigger and hairier so he knew they could be judging him.
"What else do you see?" Mr Wainwright prompted the boys.
"We don't see his penis," Conrad said.
There was a ripple of giggles but they were all glad someone had said it; apart from Martin who most certainly was not glad someone had said it.
"That's a good point," Mr Wainwright agreed. Turn around, Martin."
Martin turned to face the boys again.
"If you wouldn't mind moving your hands now?" Mr Wainwright asked.
"What?" Martin replied in a panic.
"Put your hands at your sides please, Martin," Mr Wainwright demanded.
"The... the thing is..." Martin panicked.
This was going to be excruciating. It would be embarrassing but Martin knew he should just explain to everyone that there had been a mistake. He could explain why he was naked and that he was a teacher and he thought he was getting a medical exam and he was probably late for the physical and he wasn't really a model...
"This is so unprofessional, Martin!" Mr Wainwright seethed, "Move your damn hands!"
The firmness of his tone, the authority and the strictness all brooked no complaint and Martin was naturally quite passive so when given the order he obeyed. The room had been quiet but when he moved his hands and exposed himself to the room of schoolboys.
The silence was deafening.
Even worse, he was looking at them now. They were looking at him but he could see them – the shock and disappointment in their faces as he uncovered his genitals. He could see their gazes sweeping over his penis and testicles. Martin's big secret was no longer secret.
He had a small dick.
Not just small, but tiny.
SMALL PENIS HUMILIATION
There was a smattering of giggles and a few outright laughed. The amusement was short and replaced with something like pity, which was even worse. Exposing himself like this was humiliating. Embarrassing beyond belief. Degrading. Shameful. Debasing...
Mortifying.
Martin's penis was only four centimetres (1.6 inches) big and not very thick; it was a short and stumpy little dick that's pathetic size was exacerbated by Martin's short pubes. Somehow, his penis still seemed lost inside the curly hairs. His testicles were contained inside a nice, slightly saggy, scrotum that dangled asymmetrically.
It was true that most men did not look big when they were flaccid but Martin's small dick looked pitiful. Though limp, it didn't dangle. It literally was not long enough to dangle. It just kind of stuck out from his groin and the head of his penis hid shyly inside the foreskin.
"Right, well..." Mr Wainwright seemed lost for words.
But it only seemed that way. Inside the man was giddy with delight at Martin's discomfort and disgrace. Meanwhile, Martin wished the ground would open and swallow him whole.
"What do we think now, boys?" the teacher asked.
"That's the smallest fucking dick I've ever seen," said Quintin.
"You shouldn't swear," Seth admonished him but had no criticism for the content of the insult.
"His penis is small sir," Winston said more clinically.
Martin burned with humiliation as the teenagers talked about him.
"It's very small, sir," Knox added an adverb.
"Certainly, he didn't need two hands to cover it, did he?" Mr Wainwright commented.
"I think he's blushing, sir," Graham noted.
"Well of course he's blushing," Mr Wainwright responded and Martin hoped the man would come to his rescue. "You're all talking about his tiny willy."
There was a smattering of laughter at the unexpected validation of their mean comments.
"Let us continue though," Mr Wainwright moved on.
"His legs are lean and thin like a runner," Alfred almost complimented.
"And smooth like a boys," Uther remarked.
"He's got a dick the size of a boy's," Morgan sneered.
"Smaller," Mr Wainwright murmured.
"He's got skinny ankles," Edwin added.
"Good. Excellent observations," Mr Wainwright encouraged. "Martin, do you have anything to say about the boys comments?"
Mr Wainwright chose his words carefully, to hammer home Martin's predicament. Martin saw the faces of the boys smile again as if his full frontal nudity was less of a surprise and more enduring. His arms remained at his sides because Martin knew he wouldn't be allowed to cover his genitals again – not as a professional life model – and it was worse to be ordered to expose himself.
Martin kicked himself for not just coming clean at the very beginning.
"I... I don't know," Martin replied.
"You should say thank you, obviously. Models should appreciate when artists have so much insight into their subject," Mr Wainwright said.
The man expected him to thank the boys for their derisive comments?
"Thank you for your observations," Martin said.
"You weren't offended by them talking about your tiny penis, were you?" Mr Wainwright asked as if suddenly concerned.
"No," Martin lied.
"Great! I think we're ready to draw, aren't we?" Mr Wainwright prompted this students.
"If we can see him," muttered Morgan.
Martin blushed again and Mr Wainwright pretended not to hear the remark.
"Martin, If you could stand with your feet shoulder width apart. Left foot forward slightly," Mr Wainwright directed. "Right hand on the back of your right thigh."
Martin followed the directions without saying anything.
"Good. And rest your left forearm on the back of your head," Mr Wainwright decided. "Good, now we can see everything."
Exposing Martin's armpit only added to the layers of humiliation he had already endured.
"Remember we have talked about the use of hatching and crosshatching. Think about tone and stippling," Mr Wainwright instructed the students. "Be very careful with the use of smudging. It can easily wipe out small details."
Martin cringed because he knew it was another joke about his penis and the students all smirked or chuckled at the snide joke.
"Try to hold that position for twenty minutes please," Mr Wainwright told Martin. "Begin when you're ready, boys."
Twenty minutes?!
He'd have to stand like this for twenty minutes? Naked and exposed and studied and scrutinised and judged and objectified. Not to mention the fact his likeness was going to be captured in every humiliating detail.
It was quite boring actually.
He was allowed to shuffle around a little and to drop his arm for a minute to alleviate the discomfort. Despite the mortifying comments, the students settled into a professional and courteous group as they worked.
Mr Wainwright worked his way around the group, murmuring comments and offering suggestions. Despite the quietness of the room, Martin couldn't really hear what was being said.
"We're halfway through the first pose. Make sure you finish in time, thank you," Mr Wainwright said.
First pose!?
Martin hoped that after the twenty minutes it would all be over. If he had more poses to come then it was far from being over.
"How much are you being paid, Martin?" asked Morgan.
"Paid?" Martin replied.
"To model," the student replied.
"Oh, Martin isn't paid anything," Mr Wainwright answered for him. "He models for free."
Matin's face turned red.
"Free?" Morgan interjected. "You strip naked and pose with the tiniest dick in the world and you're not even paid for it?"
Martin blushed a deeper shade of crimson as his humiliation deepened.
"Then why do you do it?" Morgan demanded haughtily.
"I just do it for fun," Martin suggested.
"Well we're certainly having a lot of fun..." Morgan replied.
"At your expense," did not need to be said because it was so heavily implied.
"If it was me, I'd die of embarrassment first," Morgan added.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Martin?" Quintin asked.
"No," Martin replied vaguely.
"Boyfriend?" Seth asked knowingly.
"No," Martin replied equally vaguely.
"Because you're dick is so tiny?" Knox asked cruelly.
"No, not that," Martin responded.
"If you did have a boyfriend, I'm guessing you're a bottom?" Winston joked.
"If you top, the dude would be disappointed," Graham remarked.
Martin said nothing. Questions about his sexual relationships always made the same assumption – that he wanted one at all. As the students completed their work, the teacher worked his way behind Knox and Winston on Martin's right and stepped towards the accidental model.
"Ok Martin?" Mr Wainwright whispered.
"Yea thanks," Martin replied.
Their voices were too low to be heard by the students and Mr Wainwright was careful not to stand still so he didn't block anyone's view. It gave Martin the sensation of being stalked as the teacher circled around him.
"I thought I recognised you from somewhere," Mr Wainwright said conversationally.
"What?" Martin replied.
Martin was caught off guard by the sudden non sequitur.
"SPH98?" Mr Wainwright whispered.
Martin froze.
Technically, he was already frozen in place but this was different.
"I... what?" Martin squeaked.
"Onlyfans? You must have taken those pictures when you were twenty? Twenty-one maybe?" Mr Wainwright said with a titter.
"I never posted pictures of my face," Martin said with a tremble.
"You posted one, remember? You deleted after a minute," Mr Wainwright said. "A minute is a long time."
"You recognised me from that?" Martin said in little more than an exhale.
"You talked about how much you liked being humiliated," Mr Wainwright said after a pause.
Martin had spoken about his little dick and times when he'd been embarrassed about it in high school. In his final year at school, the football team had pinned him down and taken a picture of his tiny dick for the yearbook. The picture was a non sequitur alongside images from the sports day and no-one ever said who's willy it was but anyone who had seen him in the school showers knew it was him.
Martin still got a boner thinking about it. Not the boys but the event itself. The humiliation.
Mr Wainwright silently passed behind Martin and very gently caressed Martin's buttocks. It was almost a tickle where the cheeks met the top of his thighs, a finger pausing just long enough to slip between Martin's legs and stroke his perineum. The students didn't notice the hushed conversation of the caressing; they really were invested in finishing their artwork.
"Imagine all these boys looking at your pathetic little boner," Mr Wainwright whispered as Mr Wainwright walked away nonchalantly.
Martin was in big trouble.
Actually he was in small trouble.
Mr Wainwright had made him hard.
A HARD TIME
"Time is up I think," Mr Wainwright decided. "Hands at your sides, Martin."
The conclusion of the sketching and the instruction to the model coincided in a way that ended the artistic attention and restored the boyish, playful attention.
"Does his dick look different?" Seth asked.
"The foreskin is opened up a bit," Knox said.
Oh god!
"I think it's a bit longer," Graham offered generously.
"It's not much longer," Quintin said.
"He said, a bit," Winston pointed out.
"Were you just cold earlier?" Morgan asked. "Is that why your baby dick was so tiny?"
Mr Wainwright did nothing to stop the insults. If Martin had been a real life model, he would have been offended and he would have expected more discipline over the artists. However, Martin just took the insults and didn't object.
"No, I wasn't cold," Martin admitted.
It was Morgan who finally said it. Of course it would be him. Front and centre, the ringleader, the head boy.
"Is he hard?" Morgan said – sounding more like a statement than a question.
There was a new round of laughs, most disbelieving. The model couldn't be hard. Mr Wainwright didn't laugh; he was standing behind his students and watching Martin with an attention that only served to make Martin more excited. The touch had awakened his little dick and now it wouldn't go down. It gave a little hop.
"Oh my fucking god!" Boris said.
"Did his dick just jump?" Harry called.
"He is hard," Edwin asserted.
"How can you tell?" Uther derided.
"That can't be hard. Where is the rest of it?" Alfred sniggered.
"Are you hard?" Conrad asked directly.
"I... I... I..." Martin stuttered nervously.
"Three I's in one breath makes you sound very egotistical," Morgan commented pompously. "We were only asking if you have an erection?"
"I'm sorry," Martin quivered.
Why was he not covering up?
"Martin Williams!" Morgan said scandalously. "Does being naked in front of school boys make you pop a little boner?"
"Erections are quite common for life models," Mr Wainwright said gently.
"It is common for life models to have such a tiny prick?" Morgan asked.
Martin couldn't believe the boys were so bold and rude. He reminded himself of the arrogant and classist status of the young men. They'd be in university next year – probably Cambridge or Oxford.
"It is not that small," Mr Wainwright rebuked the boy. "Martin, how long is your penis?"
Martin glared at the man who very nearly licked his lips.
"T r e n h l I c e," Martin said so quietly it was as if he only said every second latter.
"Pardon?" Mr Wainwright said impatiently.
"Three and a half inches," Martin repeated shamefully.
There the laughter this time felt loud. It was so loud that Martin was scared the whole school would hear. As much as Martin was humiliated beyond belief, the mockery only made him harder. Now that he was erect, he couldn't make it go down.
"Your fully erect penis is only three and a half inches?" Knox said incredulously.
"I'm twice as big as that soft and I'm only seventeen," Seth remarked.
"I do not think it is appropriate for a student to discuss his penis size in front of teachers," Mr Wainwright responded.
Martin knew Mr Wainwright was talking about himself but fuck! Just wait until they all realised he was a new teacher at the school. He would never live this down! What was he going to do?
"Sir, how big is your penis?" Winston asked cheekily.
"Well it's certainly bigger than a measly three and a half inches," Mr Wainwright replied. "It would be unprofessional for a teacher to tell you his erection was seven and a half inches."
There was a few impressed hoots of support.
Martin's dick was more than half as small as Mr Wainwright's?
"My dick is seven and a half too," Morgan boasted.
Martin was smaller than a teenage boy? Could this get any worse?
"Are we sure it's three and a half inches?" Graham asked.
Oh god!
"We should measure it," Quintin suggested.
Oh god!!
"That is a wonderful idea," Mr Wainwright agreed. "You don't mind, do you Martin?"
Oh god!!!
There was no room to say "no." Well, he could have but this was a humiliation that was already beyond Martin's wildest dreams.
"It's fine," Martin agreed sheepishly.
"Say again?" Mr Wainwright mimed not being able to hear him.
"Yes, you can measure me," Martin consented and, seeing the teacher's expression, he added: "You can measure my erection."
It was Conrad who came forward with the ruler.
"Maybe give it a little stroke to make sure it's fully hard and the foreskin is all the way back?" Mr Wainwright said smirk. "We want to be accurate."
Martin gripped his penis between his thumb and right index and middle fingers. It wasn't as his he needed his whole hand to stroke it. Conrad then pressed the ruler into Martin's short and curly pubes.
"Eight centimetres," Conrad said.
"Eight?!" Harry repeated.
"Is there an echo in here?" Alfred said.
"Is there an echo in here?" Boris repeated.
Alfred gave Boris the middle finger.
"I don't believe you," Edwin said.
"Neither do I. I'm taking a closer look," Uther decided.
Within a minute, eleven boys in the room had come up and confirmed the tiny prick was indeed only 8cm. They returned to their seats except for Conrad who was still holding the ruler. Only Morgan hadn't come closer but he had other ideas.
"Eight centimetres?" Morgan sneered. "That's only three point two inches."
"Morgan is right," Mr Wainwright said as if only just realising. "Your penis isn't even three and a half inches, Martin. Why did you lie?"
The teacher sounded as if he were offended by the falsehood.
"I rounded up," Martin said meekly.
The boys laughed at him for that.
"You rounded up to a fucking pathetic three and a half inches?" Conrad scorned.
"I... guess I was embarrassed," Martin admitted.
"Well no wonder," Harry agreed.
"Having a boner that's barely three inches is pretty embarrassing," Alfred also agreed.
"Would you prefer we use metric or imperial?" Boris asked facetiously.
"Yea, does it sound better to say it's eight centimetres or three point two inches?" Edwin asked.
"Either way, it's hilarious," Uther sniggered.
Martin was painfully aware of the teenage boy standing next to him, still holding the ruler that condemned him to be forever known for his microdick. Conrad was so close that Martin could smell his deodorant; he couldn't help but think that by this time next week they would know he was a teacher. What would Conrad think when he thought of this moment? Measuring his teacher's tiny willy.
"Mr Wainwright, can I take a picture?" Morgan asked.
Martin's eyes grew wide. The young man asked his teacher, not Martin! So of course Mr Wainwright agreed.
"That's an excellent idea, Morgan," Mr Wainwright replied. "I know you've been working on your portfolio and photography of human anatomy is a well-established domain for Art."
The Year 13 boy was going to photograph Martin's dick!
Martin knew he should speak up now.
"I'm sorry. This has all been one big mistake. I'm a teacher not a model. Please don't photograph my dick. Please don't tell anyone about this."
Instead Martin said nothing.
The young man produced a very expensive camera and came into the centre of the room. Conrad seemed quite happy to be a part of the process and Martin was so turned on from the embarrassment that his dick hadn't gone down at all.
Morgan smirked at Martin as he took a few close-up pictures of the tiny dick, the ruler confirming the diminutive size.
Morgan took a step back to snap another few pictures that now framed Martin's almost hairless thighs; they were boyish and smooth with a few prickles of blonde hair that Morgan could enhance later. Martin's short pubes and trace treasure trail were captured in the pictures too. The flatness of his stomach combined with the outline of Martin's abs made for a very nice photo.
Morgan dared to push his luck, stepping back further as he clicked again. This time capturing Martin up to his nipples.
Step.
Morgan had a picture of the small dicked model up to his neck.
Step.
Martin opened his mouth to object but he was too late. Morgan had taken a picture of Martin – thighs, tiny dick, abdomen, chest, neck and face all captured in the still image.
Worst of all was the resolution of the camera meant Morgan would be able to pick out the detail on the ruler – 8cm. Martin's face and miniscule dick would be forever linked by anyone who saw the picture. But who would see it? Surely Morgan wouldn't share it with anyone? Art had its limits especially at a school. Especially when the teenager found out Martin was a school teacher – he wouldn't share it then, surely?
Martin's dick gave a little jump at the thought of that kind of exposure.
Finally, Morgan returned to his desk and put down his camera. Conrad swatted Matin's bum once with the ruler, causing him to yelp with surprise rather than pain but still causing giggled from the boys. Conrad returned to his desk with the ruler which he intended to keep for sentimental reasons.
"Well, this has been a very time consuming segue and we're still not done," Mr Wainwright said. "I don't think the young men in the room should be drawing a model with an erection. Even if it is a boy sized boner."
The demeaning language only continued to shame Martin further. Telling the teenagers they were men and implying Martin was not was a degrading touch.
"Martin, before you take up your next pose, why don't you take care of that," Mr Wainwright suggested.
The Year 13 artists laughed again.
"Take... take care of it?" Martin said uncertainly.
"For goodness sake, yes. I'm talking about masturbation. Don't be so immature, Martin," Mr Wainwright scalded. "Go on."
The teacher made a dismissing gesture and Martin cringed at the display he was about to put on. He was a teacher. A teacher! He wasn't a model or a performer. He came here for a physical exam. How had this all gone so wrong?
Martin grabbed his little dick between his thumb on one side of the shaft and his middle and index finger on the other side. He gave it a few shameful rubs up and down the short shaft and hoped to make short shrift of the ordeal.
"Oh for goodness sake, Martin," Mr Wainwright complained. "That is completely disgusting."
"What?" Marting replied fearfully.
"I dismissed you. I meant you should go into the office to take care of it," Mr Wainwright said as if it were obvious.
Martin felt sick and the faces of the audience only made it worse. He was burning with humiliation yet again. He'd just jerked his dick in front of schoolboys for no reason!
PERFORMANCE ART
"I thought you meant..." Martin started to say.
"What? You thought he meant that you should pleasure yourself in front of a class of schoolboys?" Morgan asked incredulously.
"That's not... I didn't..." Martin tried to explain.
"Since you are so keen to display yourself, why don't you continue?" Mr Wainwright suggested.
"Wh-what?" Martin panted. "I though... I made a mistake..."
"Performance art is a legitimate artistic discipline, Martin," Mr Wainwright asserted. "Human sexual displays can be authentic pieces of art."
"You want me to continue?" Martin clarified.
"Since you want to volunteer, yes. Certainly," Mr Wainwright responded.
Volunteer?
Martin didn't volunteer. It was just another misunderstanding. Now committed, Martin continued to rub his hard dick up and down the tiny shaft. The foreskin peeled back and forth over the head of his dick. The plump little thing really was hard though – hard as a rock. But (barely) three inches of erection attached to a man who was almost six foot tall was a grotesquely embarrassing scene.
Especially with twelve boys in school uniforms watching.
"I can't believe he's doing this," Quintin commented.
"I can't believe a thing that small can even shoot," Seth asserted.
"Do you think he gets morning wood or a morning twig?" said Graham.
"This is just sad," Knox interjected.
"Art is meant to make you feel things," replied Winston.
"Yea, it makes me feel sad," Knox repeated himself.
Martin tried not to listen to the litany of comments that only served to degrade his manhood.
Martin let go of his little dick to shake life back into his wrist then he closed his eyes and reached for his prick.
As Martin started stroking it between his thumb and finger, he could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, the sound in time to each beat of his twig. Martin felt hot too. His feet were clammy and he could feel the sweat in his pits, on his back and tickling the crack of his arse.
As Martin continued to masturbate, eyes closed and leaking beads of precum that lubricated his dick, the sounds of his display added to the sensory experience. He could feel the squelching sound of his foreskin as it slid back and forth.
Martin reached up with his free hand and circled his nipple with a finger, biting his lip as the sensations further excited him. Martin pinched his left nipple with his left hand and let out a little moan that caused giggles from the class.
Martin's eyes opened and he was shocked as if he had for a moment forgotten he was being watched. But he wasn't just being watched. With heart wrenching anxiety Martin looked at Morgan.
"Oh no, are you recording?" Martin asked with concern.
"Yea," Morgan replied lazily.
"Holy shit, really?" Alfred exploded.
"Ha, that's hilarious," Edwin chuckled.
"Send it to me after class," Conrad asked.
"I'm filming too. The side view is even funnier," Boris laughed cruelly.
"Are we allowed to film him?" Uther asked.
"Sure, it's art," Harry replied.
"You should really have asked Martin first. You don't mind, do you Mr Williams?" Mr Wainwright decided.
It wasn't even really a question.
"No, I don't mind if you film me," Martin said breathlessly.
"Even if you..." Mr Wainwright left the question hanging.
Martin couldn't believe these students were going to have a video of him masturbating and ejaculating. When they found out he was a teacher, what would he do? What would they do? What if he was fired before he'd even had a chance to start the job?
"I don't mind if... if you film me... masturbating... and... c-cumming..." Martin said as he was about to blow.
With Martin's eyes open – looking into the camera, naked, masturbating, watched by a baker's dozen – it was all too much. His climax was both inevitable and obvious.
"Do not ejaculate on my floor, Martin!" Mr Wainwright warned at the last moment.
Mr Wainwright had seen Martin cum before. The only video SPH98 had posted was of him jerking off – face not in shot – and his cum had been really very impressive. Not just impressive for a man with a tiny dick but impressive for anyone with a dick. So Mr Wainwright knew exactly what would happen when he told Martin not to cum on the floor.
Martin gasped, whined and moaned as he shot his load; aiming his dicklette up, his spunk would dash across his body. However, Martin also looked down into the eye of his hard little penis. He must have been more excited than he realised because his jizz launched up and straight into his face.
The cum splashed between his eyes, flicking off in multiple directions.
The subsequent follies of orgasmic spunk created creamy pools from his suprasternal notch to his bellybutton. Three little inches and five heavy splashes left Martin surprisingly messy for a man with such a miniscule penis.
Martin looked up into Morgan's camera with an expression of shock and surprise – even he hadn't expected such a massive deluge. Cum dripped off Martin's nose like snot and then a big blob dropped from his chin.
"That was fucking awesome," said Morgan sincerely.
There followed a variety of comments that were nothing but a cacophony of noise.
"Yes, that was perfectly adequate," Mr Wainwright patronised. "We only have time for one more pose so let's get on, shall we?"
THE FINAL POSE
"Actually sir, we need to deal with something first," Morgan spoke up. "Can you come here, Martin?"
Morgan stopped recording as Marting bashfully approached him. His fingers were soggy with his own cum which coated his dick like it had been slimed.
"Mr Wainwright told you not to ejaculate on his floor," Morgan said haughtily as he pointed to the floor where a few small ponds of cum had gathered beneath where Martin had been standing. "Don't you think you should clean that up... with your tongue?"
Morgan made heavy, intimidating eye contact with Martin and the man saw a vision of things to come; Morgan would turn from a teenager to a man who would be frightfully powerful.
"I think that's a good idea," Mr Wainwright said.
The teacher didn't even bother explaining why it was a good idea for the model to eat his own cum from the floor. Everything until now had been a farce and they were now beyond farce. Martin turned his back on Morgan and got to his hands and knees, shuffling forward until he could dip his face to the floor where his own semen had landed.
The result was that the students behind him were treated to the perfect view of Martin's tight hole. The smooth globes of his peachy buttocks surrounded the puckered, pink ring. Martin lapped up the cum and could not see the disgusted looks on the Sixth Former's faces.
"What a wonderful pose," Mr Wainwright commented. "Why don't you just stay like that, Martin?"
Martin swallowed his own jizz and looked over his shoulder.
"Stay exactly like that. Keep looking over your shoulder..." Mr Wainwright decided. "So they can draw your face."
"Eating his own cum was gross," Winston said.
"I have never seen a guy do that before," Seth remarked.
"That was a lot of cum though," Knox added.
"I can't believe a man would do that in front of an audience," Graham gushed.
"Yea, especially Sixth Formers," Quintin said.
"Concentrate, boys. You don't have much time left to draw the model," Mr Wainwright kept them on track.
"I like this view," Boris laughed.
"It's pretty sick!" Uther sneered.
"That think looks tight," Conrad lusted.
"His ass is so smooth," Edwin added.
"I like how you can see his balls dangling between his thighs," Morgan revealed.
"Can't see his dick though," Harry pointed out.
"Too tiny. His scrotum is hiding it," Alfred explained.
It was true that Martin's balls were dangling between his thighs but because his dick was only 8cm it could not be seen from the rear. The sagging scrotum was more than enough to excite the artist who scratched images onto the paper for nearly twenty minutes.
"We are nearly out of time," Mr Wainwright finally said.
The students needed no further prompting, putting down their pencils after finishing their respective sketches.
"Put away your artwork please. You can return to them later but please thank our model," Mr Wainwright said. "Martin Williams, would you like to stand up and face everyone while the boys thank you?"
Martin obeyed, standing and turning to once again expose himself. The initial reveal of his flaccid penis had been bad and the discovery that it was barely three inches had been worse but this was the ultimate shame. Post orgasm, his dick had now shrunk to barely more than a button while the blobs of cum were now congealed as claggy splodges on his skin.
"Thank you Martin," the boys echoed.
"Aren't you going to thank them for drawing you?" Mr Wainwright encouraged him.
"I'd like to draw you again sometime," Morgan said. "Could I take one more picture of you to work from?"
Martin dreaded the very idea. When he had started, his little dick had been 4cm (1.6 inches) long. Erect he had been 8cm (just over three inches). Now Martin's tiny dick had shrunk to an even more pathetic 2.5cm (one measly inch).
"I guess so," Martin consented.
As much as he hated it, the mortifying modelling session had been an outstanding experience beyond his wildest dreams.
"Great. If you just look straight at me," Morgan said. "Both hands behind your head."
Martin displayed his sparce pits, completing his exposure as his total nudity was immortalised once again for the expensive camera. His penis was all but invisible inside his pubic hair. After that, Martin was then discarded as if he were no more interesting than a bowl of fruit. The students packed up and left the room and Martin was left wondering what details were recorded in the sketches and what the students might do with the photographs of videos.
Again Martin dreaded what they would do when they found out he was a teacher.
SPH98
The school bell rang and Martin feared he'd be seen by students passing by the open classroom door but Mr Wainwright ushered Martin into the adjacent office where he had stripped. Martin felt almost safe as he knew his clothes were nearby.
"Did you enjoy that, Martin?" Mr Wainwright asked.
He unlocked the drawer and returned Martin's clothes without any hoops to jump through.
"It was the most humiliating experience of my entire life," Martin replied solemnly.
"That's not what I asked," Mr Wainwright replied.
Did Martin really want to confess that it had also been the most exhilarating experience of his life? Perhaps he shouldn't; what would the fellow teacher think of him if he knew?
Mr Wainwright lifted Martin's boxers and sniffed them. Then he wiped them across Martin's face and body to mop up the cum from Martin's body. The dried spunk flaked away but enough of it was moist to ruin the hipster boxers.
"No point wearing these now, can I keep them?" Mr Wainwright asked nicely.
Martin nodded and started to dress while Mr Wainwright watched with a contented expression. Martin was still trying to figure out how he'd explain himself. For starters, he'd need to meet the Head Master and explain why he had missed his physical.
"Mr Wainwright..." Martin started to say.
He was interrupted because Mr Wainwright's desk phone rang and the man lifted the handset on the second ring.
"Hello?" Mr Wainwright said. "Yes, Head Master. I was disappointed too. Yes, cancelled at the last minute."
Martin was lacing his shoes as the Art Teacher spoke.
"I found a replacement, actually. Yes, a naked model," Mr Wainwright replied enthusiastically.
Martin's stomach sank lower again. What was he going to do?!
"He's a very handsome man," Mr Wainwright complimented. "The smallest penis I've ever seen in my life though."
Matin blushed at this remark but he stood up and pulled on his jacket again. Martin heard a laugh from the other end of the phone and Mr Wainwright joining in the laughter.
"Like a prawn, yea," Mr Wainwright replied. "Pardon?"
The Head Master repeated his question.
"Oh, the model's name is Martin Williams," Mr Wainwright told the Head Master. "Yes. Yes, I know he's the new Maths teacher. Do you think I'd let any strange man into my classroom?"
What!?
"I don't think it'll be a problem," Mr Wainwright replied indignantly. "So a few Year 13 students have seen a teacher naked, small deal."
WHAT!?
"A few sketches, a few photographs..." Mr Wainwright explained. "Photos, yes."
Mr Wainwright listened to a clearly concerned Head Master.
"I don't think sensible seventeen year old schoolboys are going to share naked pictures of a teacher. Why would they?" Mr Wainwright answered. "Especially a teacher with such a tiny penis."
The Art teacher had known all along! Martin felt like an utter fool.
"Head Master, please do not criticise the use of nudity in the creation of art," Mr Wainwright replied. "It's not a big deal. Literally."
Martin sank down in a chair. Mr Wainwright had known all along that he was the new Maths teacher. Why? Why had the man still asked him to model nude?
"Why don't I show you what the class got out of the lesson to prove to you it was an upstanding and classy exercise," Mr Wainwright concluded. "Half an hour, sure."
Mr Wainwright dropped the handset into the cradle to hang up.
"Prick," Mr Wainwright said.
"You know I was the new Maths teacher here!?" Martin blurted out.
"Well... yes," Mr Wainwright said with a straight face.
"I only came here for a medical exam," Martin whined. "Why did you say you were Doctor?"
"I have a PhD in Art history," Mr Wainwright replied – pumping his pomposity up to 85%.
"Why the hell did you do this to me?" Martin asked incredulously.
"Because your old Onlyfans with one video and twenty seven pictures was due for an update, SPH98," Mr Wainwright said. "Small Penis Humiliation 98 loved talking dirty to his fans. I was one of them. Wasn't this the best humiliation scenario you could possibly imagine?"
"I could never have imagined something like this," Martin replied. "You let students see me naked, draw and photograph me naked..."
"No, you let them do that. You could have opted out any time," Mr Wainwright asserted.
"Oh fuck," Martin said – dropping his head into his hands.
"There won't be any trouble, Martin. The Head Master wants to see you in half an hour. I'll come with you and advocate for you. Let me do the talking," Mr Wainwright insisted. "Martin, this is St. Mervyn Poshford School. It's an independent boys school. Cabinet Ministers and their sons have come here. Even a few Prime Ministers. Do you really think a naked teacher is the most outrageous thing to ever have happened?"
"What if I'm fired?" Martin wailed.
"You won't be fired. If the students even tell their patents, they'll just laugh at you and think it's a great jape," Mr Wainwright assured him. "You're only a pleb, Martin. It's not like your someone important."
That made Martin feel even lower – he was nothing but a laughing stock.
"They saw me naked," Martin said quietly.
"I know. Teenage students saw their new teacher barefoot, bare arsed and bare naked. They saw your tiny, pathetic penis and your laughable erection," Mr Wainwright smirked as he catalogued Martin's degradation. "And they drew pictures of you and took photos and recorded you masturbating..."
Martin's legs felt weak.
"And watched you cum all over yourself like a bukkake obsessed little man," Mr Wainwright sneered. "Ok, come on then."
The change of tone was sudden and disorientating.
"Come on where?" Martin asked Mr Wainwright's back because the man had walked to his office door.
"We still have twenty minutes before you meet the Head Master. I'll show you around a bit," Mr Wainwright offered magnanimously.
Mr Wainwright took Martin on a short tour of the ground floor and eventually stopped outside a classroom. He knocked on the door and they heard "enter," from within.
"Mr Smith, good morning," Mr Wainwright said politely.
"Good morning, Mr Wainwright. How can I help you?" Mr Smith asked.
His tone was polite too – too polite in fact. These men did not like each other.
"I'm just showing the new Maths teacher around before his meeting with the Head Master," Mr Wainwright said.
"How nice than the Art Department has that kind of time on its hands," Mr Smith said contemptuously. "Is that all?"
"Introducing the new man? Yes, that will be quite all," Mr Wainwright ignored the jab.
Mr Smith waved his hand and sighed as if to say "get on with it."
"Mr Williams, would you like to come in?" Mr Wainwright said. "Class, this is Mr Martin Williams."
Martin walked into the room and looked at the faces of the students in the class.
There was total and disinterested silence even as half of them recognised him and their mouths gaped open in shock.
"Mr Williams, this is the Year 13 Maths class," Mr Wainwright replied. "I'm sure they'll be looking forward to seeing you in class."
The silence broke as twelve of the boys started to laugh at him and Martin felt his tiny prick shrink with humiliation.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
This story is my first proper foray into the Small Penis Humiliation (SPH) genre, but there are bigger aspects to this particular story. I want to make clear that I intend no animus or genuine insult towards men based on the size of their penis (if they have one at all). SPH is predicted on ridicule but it does not represent my attitudes; I write about lots of characters and scenarios that do not reflect my interests or ambitions.
Feedback and comments are my only compensation, so if you enjoyed the story, please get in touch:
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My stories so far:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester
Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told, A Series of Embarrassing Events, and Noah the Embarrassed Nudist.
Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.
Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures.