School of Hard Knox

Author's Note: This story contains fetish content, including SPH, CMNM, humiliation, and "sissyfication." Please refer to the tags if you are wanting more information about whether give it a read. All characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older.

BUZZZ! BUZZZ! BUZZZ!

I begrudgingly grabbed my phone to silence the vibrating alarm. I never used the ringer for two reasons: first, the programmed sound made me feel like I was going to vomit, and second, having an audible alarm go off in a room with someone else sleeping would be a major asshole move.

My phone confirmed that it was indeed 3 a.m. Only three weeks ago, an alarm that early would've been a once-in-a-blue-moon event - an early flight for a family vacation or something. Alas, it had become the norm, and I was even starting to get used to it. I'd wake up before sunrise, hustle down to the dormitory bathroom to take a shower, and then I'd be back in bed by 3:30 a.m. with my hair still slightly damp.

I hadn't been adjusting as well to college as most of the other students. I largely blamed myself for not fitting in. I had made a classic mistake of assuming my mom was still running my life when I had neglected to sign up for student housing. I had been very lucky to get a spot in one of the dorms about one week before school was scheduled to begin after being on the waitlist.

To my utter dismay, I hadn't been assigned to either of my top choices: the dedicated honors-student dorm or the LGBTQ one. It hadn't been until move-in day that I'd even realized that I'd ended up in the athletics dorm.

I had never, ever been an athlete. My crowning achievement in sports had been picking dandelions whenever I was forced to play soccer in third grade. I hadn't scored a single goal the entire season; my parents hadn't even bothered to suggest I sign up the next year.

To make matters even worse, I wasn't just in the athletics dorm. I was in the seventh circle of hell: an all-male floor. While two of the three floors were co-ed, I got stuck in the proverbial NFL locker room of the building. At first, I thought the all-male floor was a function of numbers; less women wanted to live in the athletics dorms so it necessitated the situation. It was only later that I discovered that some of the men had actually wanted to live in a unisex environment.

I'd never gotten along with jocks in high school. As a scrawny five-foot-five guy who'd spent most of my free time in the art studio lab, I hadn't run in the same social circles as them. That had become even more apparent after I'd come out as bi during my senior year. I'd grown accustomed to the football team douchebags coughing the word "fag" under their breaths when I'd had to present in class.

I'd survived, but I'd learned a lesson. When I'd realized that I was going to be living with a bunch of dumbbell-lifting dipshits for a year, I'd decided to go back into the proverbial closet. I'd figured I could still hook-up with guys on the down-low if I decided that's what I wanted, but I'd play up that I was into girls.

I looked over at the bed across the room. My roommate, Chad, was still sound asleep. Luckily for me, he seemed to be pretty hard to disturb. He hit the snooze button at least three times most mornings when he had to get up for his first class.

I gathered my pre-assembled kit from the closet. It was just a small tote filled with a clean pair of underwear, pajama bottoms, and a T-shirt. I tip-toed barefoot through the dark to the door.

My eyes burned as I slid into the hallway; the fluorescent lighting was a stark contrast to the cave I'd just emerged from. I'd learned that the building sounded eerily quiet at 3 a.m., which I'd come to appreciate. I walked the thirty feet from my room to the shared bathroom. I tentatively opened the door; nobody was inside. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I grabbed my shower amenities from the set of small lockers located near the entrance and walked over to the bank of sinks. I hurriedly brushed my teeth and flossed. I didn't need to shave that day; my facial hair grew out so slowly that I only needed to shave some peach fuzz about once a week.

Then I cast my gaze once more upon the bane of my existence. There were four shower stalls lined up against the wall. Two of them didn't even have curtains! The other two were not in much better shape; the slightly-mildewed fabric was torn and ripped from the hooks. They only covered about half the opening to the showers.

My first time in the dorm bathroom during the evening had felt like a surreal nightmare. I'd gone in to brush my teeth after dinner when I'd been accosted by a small hoard of guys crammed into the compact space - some half-naked, some baring it all. All of the showers had been in use; the two jocks in the ones without curtains were openly talking to their friends near the sinks.

I remember looking over at one of them. His name was Jordan; he was a tall, lean baseball player. He'd been rubbing body wash all over his thighs as his soft dick had sort of flopped around. He'd given me a small "jock nod" when he'd realized I was looking at him; I'd immediately averted eye contact. I'd heard him let out a small chuckle before returning to his conversation. I'd brushed my teeth as quickly as I could, then left - though "fled" is more accurate.

After a day of not bathing and getting pretty ripe, I'd decided that showering in the middle of the night was my best chance to have some privacy. I'd just felt too uncomfortable trying to do it with all those meatheads around.

I hopped into the shower furthest to the right; it was the one with the curtain that offered the most coverage. I popped my towel on the hook, put my shower caddie on the floor, and turned on the water. I took off my clothes scrunched them on the floor right in front of the shower stall so they wouldn't get soaked.

I'd become fairly good at taking speedy showers. I could be in and out in less than three minutes, but I'd stretch to five minutes if I was feeling really exhausted.

I grabbed the body wash and tossed some on my palms. I started to rub it all over my frame. Like I said, I was lean at only about one-hundred-and-twenty pounds, so I had less ground to cover than most of the muscle-bound clods in the dorm.

I caressed my hairless chest and stomach; I didn't have abs per se, but it would have been possible if I'd bulked up a little bit. I rubbed my thighs and legs. Like my face, they didn't really grow much hair. They had the lightest coat of blond fuzz.

I dug my fingers into my ass cheeks; it actually felt kind of nice. My butt wasn't by any means impressive, but it was a small bubble. It seemed to be where I stored most of my body fat.

I moved my hands to my front side. I looked down at the main reason I was taking a shower in the middle of the night - my teeny cock. I knew that there were growers and there were show-ers, but I was a no-er. Not only had I not been lucky enough to be a dude with a flaccid anaconda swinging around, I didn't even have a hard solid stick.

My soft dick reminded me a little bit of an acorn buried between a small pile of hay. I only had a small, sparse covering of blond pubic hair. Just like the rest of my body, it looked inadequate compared to other guys.

I grabbed my nub between my middle and index fingers; it measured just over one inch. One of the reasons I was so anxious about gaining the freshman fifteen was that I worried that it would disappear completely into my pubic mound if I put on any weight. I rubbed it between my fingers to give it a thorough cleaning.

I massaged my balls with my other hand. While also hairless, they were at least a little bigger. Roughly the size of small grapes, I wasn't nearly as self-conscious about them as I was about my baby carrot.

I should have seen it coming. I was an eighteen-year-old who hadn't jacked off in weeks. It only took me a few seconds to get hard. My dick "grew" to its full potential of two-point-four inches - and, yes, I knew for a tragic fact that it wasn't two-point-five. In addition to being practically microscopic, it wasn't a normal girth either. I had compared it to various household objects trying to assess myself; it was a tad bigger in circumference than an AA battery.

I hated my dick, but I liked the way it could make me feel. I let myself enjoy the warm sensation of the water raining down on me as I jiggled my jellybean between my fingers. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the growing pleasure in my groin.

CREAK!

I stopped as quickly as I could. I went back to rubbing my stomach while looking over my shoulder. I peered through the opening in the curtain to better see the bathroom. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that nobody had entered.

I reached for my shampoo bottle; a part of me was screaming to finish up and get the hell out of there, but the nerve endings in my dick were still firing with delight. I grabbed it again between my index finger and thumb; I began to frantically "tug" on it. I had to suppress my desire to moan, although I'm sure one or two escaped. It only took about thirty seconds before I felt the climax coming.

My dick spurted a little rope of goo that landed right on my foot. A few more drops trickled out in my second "shot." I'd never been able to cum that much; I'd been amazed by porn videos of guys that could fill a large shot glass.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't realized just how much of a stress-reliever jerking off had been for me until that moment. I moved my foot around in the stream of water to cleanse it of the spunk clinging to it.

I started washing my hair; it wasn't that long, so it was a fairly easy task. After about ten seconds of massaging my fingers in my scalp, I heard one of the sinks start running. My heart practically jumped out of body. I immediately aborted my mission and dunked my hair under the stream of water.

"How's it going, buddy?" I heard a voice ask.

I paused for a second with my hands on the back of my neck. I waited to see if anyone else was going to reply. Is there more than one person out there? I swiveled my head again to look through the opening in the curtain.

Our eyes locked with one another; it was a guy named Knox who lived in a quad room next to mine. He was the quintessential jock douchebag that would have made fun of me in high school. I'd overheard him taking about how he'd been the MVP of his high school football team. He had to be six-foot five and two-hundred pounds of muscle. He was always walking around the hallways shirtless to show off his biceps.

"I'm fine," I eked out as I turned back towards the showerhead.

"I just got back from a party and I had to piss like a racehorse. I was surprised that anyone was up showering at this time."

I didn't say anything. My stomach filled with acid. I stared straight ahead of me at the tiles on the wall. I wasn't sure what I was hoping would happen by not replying.

"You must be tired if you're up this late. I'll keep you company while you finish showering, bro."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I felt a lever switch inside of me; I could practically visualize it swinging from "freeze" to "flight." A surge of anxious energy shot through my core.

"Thanks, I think I'm good though."

I turned off the water and reached behind me to grab my towel from the hook near the opening of the stall.

No. No. No.

I reached again, praying for a different outcome. I turned my head to see that my towel was gone -- and it wasn't just my towel. My tote bag with my clean clothing was missing, too. I immediately looked at the floor to see if they had fallen from the hook; of course, they hadn't.

I grasped my crotch with both my hands to cover myself. I frantically turned around and looked through the opening of the curtain towards the floor. I could tell that Knox was watching me, even though I was too overwhelmed to actually look at him.

"You're in a double with Chad, right?"

I didn't say anything. I looked at the floor for a moment longer as if somehow the sleek, white tile would transform into fabric I could use to cover myself. My field of vision felt like it was narrowing; I forced myself to take a deep breath.

"I was asking because I saw Chad leaving as I was barging in to piss. It looked like his hands were full with a towel and a bag. It didn't look like he'd showered, though."

What the fuck? Chad and I weren't by any means "friends," but I had thought we respected each other well enough. He seemed like one of the less self-centered guys on the floor. We'd even played CoD twice when we'd both been bored and hadn't had other plans.

"Motherfucker..." I muttered.

"Chill, bro," Knox chuckled. "I'm guessing you were never 'one of the boys' in high school, huh? This is just something we do to each other. It's impossible to have been a varsity player without your teammates having screwed with you at some point."

"Okay," I responded while my mind raced with other thoughts.

"I'm sure he just took your shit back to your room. He'll just roast you for having to walk down the hall naked once you get back."

Knox was just idly standing by the sink; we were both staring at one another through the opening in the curtain.

"You're a shy guy, aren't you?" Knox asked with a chuckle. "Dude, it's like the middle of the night. You should be happy he didn't pull this shit with you when the hall is crowded with people."

I took the smallest amount of comfort from his comment. To be honest, I was a bit surprised, since he'd always come across as a narcissistic jerk in the few interactions we'd had.

Knox was smiling; it was objectively dazzling. He had perfect teeth that looked whiter than what one would expect from someone who wasn't a celebrity.

He started to walk the few steps over to the shower stall. I was stuck in mental quicksand; my feet were glued to the floor.

"I can help you out so you can stay covered," he said as he pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed my caddie from the ground.

I almost fainted as the curtain swooshed back against the wall. A pall of dread surrounded me. I pressed my hands even closer to my fun-sized package.

"You're Jack, right? I'm Knox."

I nodded since I didn't think I could find the words to form a sentence. He returned to a standing position; his clothed body was less than a foot away from my naked frame.

Knox looked at me; his blue eyes somehow managed to gleam under the harsh lighting. I had to crane my neck to maintain eye contact with him being so close. It made me even more aware of the fact that I was an entire foot shorter than him.

"Well... let's getting going, little buddy?"

I quickly looked down towards my crotch; it was almost a Pavlovian reaction to hearing little. I felt reassured to see that my hands were still firmly in place.

I slowly got out of the shower stall as if stepping onto an icy lake, aware that I could plunge into the freezing water at any moment.

Knox positioned himself next to me; he placed his large mitt on my shoulder.

"Wow, you're a little dude. What are you, like five-three?"

"Five-five."

"Maybe in shoes," Knox chuckled. "I bet you'd even be five-seven in the right pair of heels."

He winked as he playfully squeezed my shoulder. My face turned bright red. I hated that fact that I blushed so easily; I hoped he couldn't tell that I was completely embarrassed.

We walked over to the small bank of lockers. I kept glancing towards the entrance fearful that someone could walk in at any moment. It took me a moment to realized that Knox was speaking.

"So... which one?"

"What?"

"Which locker?" he said, laughing. "Are you out of it of something? You seem... not okay."

"I'm just tired," I said rather unconvincingly. "It's number four."

Knox opened my locker and put the shower caddie inside. Rather than slamming it shut, he closed it with a gentle touch. I kept my focus on the door.

"Mind if I take a piss, bro?"

"Huh?" I'd thought he'd already gone. He still has to go? Wasn't that why he came to the bathroom in the first place?

"I know I'll wake up about to explode if I don't go."

"Um, okay."

I expected him to leave me at the locker, but it seemed like we both started to walk. I realized that his hand was still on my shoulder; it was like he was steering me with him. I was far too worried about someone else entering to even try to make sense of what he was doing.

In a few seconds, we were both standing in front of the four urinals on the wall opposite the shower stalls. He took the one on the far left and somehow positioned me in front of the one next to him. He finally let go on my shoulder.

"What did you get up to tonight, little buddy?"

Knox moved his hands towards his zipper; I heard the metallic buzzing sound of it opening. I couldn't help myself; my eyes were in control. I watched as his large right hand reached into the opening and fiddled with the fly of his boxers.

Holy shit! I thought speechlessly as his cock unfurled from his jeans. That's got to be eight inches!

"Buddy? Buddy?"

I was mesmerized; I barely registered him speaking in that moment. Suddenly, Knox started to shake his cock like it was a flag trying to get someone's attention.

Shit! I quickly looked up making eye contact again. Knox chuckled; he had a cocky grin on his face. I was completely expecting him to roast me for staring.

"So... what did you get up to?" he repeated as he started to piss.

"Nothing much. I just worked on a paper for my English class."

Knox's piss was making a ton of noise as it splashed against the porcelain. It sounded like he was unloading a stronger stream than I'd ever heard.

"Bummer," he said. "Aren't you going to piss, too? I can never listen to someone else going and not have to go myself."

"No... I'm fine."

He continued to hold his large, meaty dick in his left hand. I continued looking it while realizing I shouldn't be, and while trying to look literally anywhere else.

"Come on, bro," Knox chided. "I know you'll regret it later if you don't."

He reached over with his right hand and started to playful tug at my wrists. My hands were still clamped down on my little guy. He almost pulled one of them off, but I resisted pretty forcefully.

I was still half-staring at his dick as his hand tickled my delicate wrist, trying to wrench it free. My right palm pressed even harder against my junk. I could feel what was happening in my body before my brain registered what it meant. My pocket rocket firmed up to its full potential. The only silver lining was that it was still completely obscured from his view.

He yanked at my wrist again. I focused on the echoing sound of his urine splattering; I couldn't believe he was still pissing. I tried to take a step further away from him, but he locked his hand around my wrist.

"Pee shy, huh? No biggie. I'm not going to force you to piss."

Knox gently released me from his grasp and moved that hand back towards his crotch. His stream finally started to slow down. Within a few seconds, it was coming out in short spurts as he forced the last bit from his bladder.

He shook the final few drops from its large, mushroom-shaped head. We were both watching intently; I was at least trying to pretend I was only looking from the corner of my eyes. That was progress.

"Fuck, I always feel so great after I take a huge piss."

Knox waved his monster around a little more. I felt my own hard cock pulsating under my palm. I wondered what it would feel like to hold something that big in my hand - well, probably both hands. I had extremely limited experience with men, which I'd only just acquired in the few weeks before starting college. In fact, I had only ever given two handjobs and one blowjob, they'd all been for the same guy. He had had a solid five-inch dick, which had still been huge in my eyes, but it was nothing like what was in front of me just then.