[POV: Greg, for now]
When Greg had gotten the impulse to take the book, he hadn't questioned it. He just...did it. Maybe it was the buzz of excitement he still felt at how sexy his day had become, or how horny he'd felt with his potential landlord — Larry, was it? — making fun of his puny six incher. Or maybe it was just the promise of reading the diary of some college twink who made Greg's dick look huge.
Thinking back on the little nub between the boy's legs, Greg almost felt jealous. Ever since mid-puberty, when it became clear his dick had stopped growing long before his classmates', he'd had a thing for being humiliated about it. He liked to think of himself as vers, but there was something so hot about the way the landlord had ordered the kid around like the apartment bottom...he shook his head, trying to clear the sexual thoughts. He was in public. He couldn't very well look at the book now, in broad daylight.
Well. Even so. A peek couldn't hurt, he reasoned. He bit his lip, and walked over to a park bench. He was already blocks from the apartment, having left fast in hopes the college kid wouldn't notice the book's absence till he was long gone. Now, cautiously, cock already growing hard in his pants, he opened the book.
Huh. He'd been expecting lewd diary entries, stories of encounters with larger men, but all he saw was a list of carefully jotted down statistics. Weird. Was the kid a math major? It was hard to imagine anyone being horny over this.
Even as he thought the words, he immediately proved them wrong. The average flaccid penis size, according to this kid's notes, was 6 to 8 inches — fuck, Greg was smaller hard than most men were soft. He stifled a groan at the thought. Who's to say the guy's notes are even right, anyway?
Still. For whatever reason, holding the book, he felt a memory stir in his head. What had the landlord called it? His "little fanfic," or something. Suddenly, Greg found the idea of writing "little fanfic" like this indescribably hot. He wasn't sure why the urge came over him, but, no matter the reason, he knew he needed to try it himself. He rummaged in his bag for a pen.
When he looked back at the book, he noticed there were more words on the opposite page. Odd...he could swear what he'd seen before had been everything...male averages, stats for this kid Jason and his landlord. Now, on the opposite page, Greg's own stats were written. When had Jason managed that?
"Greg Chandler's penis percentile statistics in relation to all human men:
Penis size percentile (flaccid): 20th
Penis size percentile (erect): 6th"
Fuck, he really was small. He'd always been a grower, so this Jason kid had even got that part right, but still...
Ignoring the nagging feeling that the stats on him hadn't been there before, Greg began to write.