The Pee Wee Peewee

Then as a group, they walked to me. "Is it true?" one asked.

"Is what true?" I responded, fearful I already knew what she referred to.

"There is a rumor going around that you have the biggest dick on the planet. Is it true?"

The other first class passenger heard the question and at once joined in. "Can we see?" she asked. All the stewardesses nodded their heads in agreement. One of them went to the curtain that separated first class from the rest of the passengers and pulled it shut.

"Ah, ladies, this is not the time or the place," I said.

"It is the only time and place for us. Once the plane lands we will never see each other again."

I considered this for a short time. My wife had seen me, but her reaction was one of terror. The TSA agents had seen me, but their reaction was one of hilarity. These ladies knew what they wanted to see and might actually appreciate it. If my scheme with the headshrinker worked, in the next day my giant part would be gone. It was now or never.

"Well, okay," I said, looking back at the curtain and making certain it was all the way closed.

I slipped off my windbreaker. Immediately there were gasps of wonder and amazement as they examined the now easily seen bulge under my shirt. I began to unbutton my shirt but the redheaded passenger stopped me saying, "We will do it." Again the stewardesses readily agreed.

There were four buttons on my shirt, and four ladies wanting to see the exhibit. Each took a button and slipped it out of the buttonhole. My shirt fell open and each viewer in one way or another expressed astonishment.

Still I was not fully erect but that was beginning to change. There was no gun aimed at my head this time as the other passenger ran her hand over the head of my cock, feeling the smoothness and roundness. It filled her entire hand and still there was a part of it untouched. The other three grabbed hold of me all the way from the balls to the tip. Every few seconds they traded places. Of course with all of them fondling me like that, the inevitable happened.

I was sixteen inches limp, but I started to grow. Seventeen inches, eighteen inches, nineteen inches and finally stopped at twenty one and a half inches. I knew this because one of the stewardesses had a tape measure and took measurements. I was ten inches in circumference. Confirmed by another measurement.

"Have you ever had sex?" a stewardess asked. "I only ask because I do not think there is a woman on the planet that could take this."

They did not wait to hear my story. The redheaded passenger, (did I mention she was beautiful? Yeah I did, but it bears repeating, she was a fox) said, "Let's help him out."

"If you are thinking about joining the mile high club, be my guest, but that giant will never get between my legs," a stewardess said. The other stewardesses quickly agreed.

"Mine either," the redhead stated. "But we can jack him off. That way we can always say we had the biggest cock on the planet, but will not be ripped apart doing it."

The first thing they did was lower my seat as far as it would go.

"Did you happen to bring any KY jelly with you are maybe a jar of Vaseline?"

"No," the redhead responded. "But in an emergency, you can use butter. I have done it before."

"We have lots of butter,|" a stewardess said.

A couple of them moved to the storage area and I saw them pull out three dozen butter tabs. They unwrapped them, put them in a bowl and the bowl into a microwave. There were pops and sizzles and a minute later they had a bowl full of melted butter. They waited a minute until it cooled down before they all grabbed a handful and went to work on me.

The redhead took charge and worked the top of me, constantly running her hands over the head of my prick. She must have done this a lot because she applied exactly the right pressure and moved her hands at the proper speed. The stewardesses giggled and told each other this was the most exciting flight they ever worked.

This had gone on for over five minutes before I started to feel pressure building up inside of me. I knew something was different at that time. Hundreds of times I had enjoyed the buildup before cumming. I knew it well. This was different. The pressure this time was far more intense. There was a growing pressure in me that I did not think was possible. If it had been my earlier prick, it would have been torn open. The new and improved me must have been dozens of times stronger to withstand what was going on inside.

My hands gripped the seat handles with all their power. My legs shot out under the seat in front of me. My face contorted as the pressure reached the breaking point.

The first shot of cum cleared my head by a half a foot. It looked like a baseball hurled at top speed by the best of professional baseball pitchers. I saw it ram the top of the curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane. The curtain was ripped from the curtain rod and flew halfway down the aisle before crashing. Luckily it did not hit anyone. The second shot followed immediately behind it. This time there was a direct hit. The Mother Superior had watched with the rest of the nuns the flying curtain. She was rising to her feet and turning back to the front of the plane in the same motion to see what was going on. My second shot hit her face dead center. Her glasses snapped into, the habit was shoved from her head, and she went flying heels over head into the seat behind her.

The entire plane was now screaming and nuns were crawling out of their seats to render aid.

"What the hell is this?" a sister screamed as she pulled a handful of cum mixed with Mother Superior blood from the face of the downed nun.

The aisle was jammed with people, deciding whether they wanted to help their fallen comrade or render the people on my side of the curtain to shreds.

"THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT, THE SIXTH COMMANDMENT," the redhead shouted out in desperation to the oncoming mob. She retook her seat, snapped on her seat belt and yelled at me, "I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I know nothing. Do not involve me in any kinky things you and the stewardesses may have had going on." She pulled out the magazine from the seat in front of her and pretended to be fascinated by the story in it.

Two of the stewardesses along with me were buttoning up my shirt at top speed. The other was holding my windbreaker out to me and encouraging me to put it on as rapidly as possible.

At that time the door to the flight cabin opened. One of the flight crew asked, "What is going on back here? The weight of the plane is shifting from left to right and back again. It's like trying to steer a roller coaster."

A hasty explanation was given by the head stewardess. The flight crew member shook his head in disbelief and shut the door behind him as he returned to his station. A couple of seconds later the captain was on the intercom. "Everyone the seatbelt sign is now on. Please retake your seats. We are making an emergency landing in Texarkana."

Fifteen minutes later we were wheels down and the door was quickly opened. Medical care people rushed onto the plane carrying a stretcher with them. Three minutes later they headed back out, this time carrying a Mother Superior who was only now regaining consciousness. A half a dozen sisters followed behind her.

I am so grateful looks cannot kill. If possible I would have died a dozen times.

Next I was told I would have to leave the plane. They could not guarantee my safety if we continued on to New Orleans and I was surrounded by a hundred or more enraged nuns when we disembarked.

I did not argue but hurried out the door.

I figured my interaction with planes was over for a time. I was lucky I had made most to the journey before I was grounded. I stopped at the first car rental place and got a car and a map. Soon I was on my way again.

Several hours later I reached the city. I entered the address I wanted and soon enough the electronic navigator displayed the final path to my destination. It was miles deep into the swamp. The dueling banjos tune kept repeating in my head as I looked the area over. I prayed I would not have to squeal like a pig before I left.

The steps squeaked as I walked up them. I raised my hand to knock but the door opened before my knuckles made contact.

"You have come to see the Great Santana. I know the spirit world. I can see both past and future. I can tell destinies. I have cast out demons and I have summoned angels. How can I be of service?"

He tried to sound mystic as he spoke, making his voice sound as if it came from a far off place.

"You shrink heads," I asked.

"For the correct price, yes. What have you brought me?"

"I have something I need shrunk." Instead of trying to state my problem, I opened my shirt so the problem could explain itself.

"Holy shit," he proclaimed as I fell out. The mysticism had left his voice and was replaced by amazement. "How in hell did you get that?"

He listened as I explained my story.

"Well crap," he said once I finished. "I can do to your dick what I do to shrink dog and cat heads, minus the scraping out of the brains of course. But I have no idea if it will work or not. Understand I get paid no matter what the result."

"You take MasterCard?" I asked.

"Certainly," he replied while pulling out his cellphone with an electronic card reader attached. He entered an amount, ran the card thru, and after it was approved said, "Let us begin."

He pulled out some sort of goo from a jar and liberally applied it up and down my length. The next step involved him wrapping it inside a heating pad and turning it up to full blast. "Normally I put the subject in the oven, but we will have to try to make due with a substitute path," he said as way of explanation.

I had been lathered and heated for almost an hour before I started to feel movement. The best way I can explain it is pretend you are a balloon and someone is letting the air out. That is what my cock felt. The next sensation was like there was tremendous weight placed all around the outside of me, squeezing me in. This went on for almost three hours before the procedure was over.

It was with fear and dread I watched as the heating pad was unwound. Then a feeling of great relief flowed over me. The monstrosity was gone. In its place was the original me. But as I looked at it closer I saw that it was not the original me. "Quick, I need a tape measure," I said to the Great Santana.

While he reached behind him and found one on the clutter of his shelf, I worked at getting erect. Thirty seconds later he handed me the tape measure and I finished playing with myself. I took the tape measure and shouted out in joy when I measured out at six inches. Not a whopper, but to my wife it would be equal to an eight inch dong.

The next day I was back home. I hoped no neighbors were looking because my wife insisted I pull my prick out so she could examine it before she would let me in. It was with some skepticism she looked at my six inch cock, but she did let me in. Forty minutes later she was showering me with kisses as we celebrated the new and improved me.

We lay in bed that night snuggling. Soon she rolled over, enjoying the afterglow as she drifted off to sleep. As I lay there I started thinking about how I always had to look up at everyone. Just about everyone I met was taller than me. I slipped out of bed and went online to look up, 'How to grow taller.'