He couldn't see his cock at all. Surely it just wasn't hard, right? He wasn't gay, so it must've just been a weird side effect of the rave. If it was hard, surely he'd see at least the tip past his gut. He looked into the mirror to confirm what he already knew.
But only found more questions. His cock was hard, all right, and the stream of shine flowing down his foreskin showed just how aroused he was, but it barely breached his fupa and balls. His dick was barely more than a dome poking out of his pudge, while his balls rivaled his fists in size. The skin was taught under the tension of their weight and size, with a thickness of leather.
The tightness in his groin turned in to an ache. He could swear he felt cum sloshing in his balls, even if he knew that wasn't possible. Too late to stop it, he felt a moan escape his lips before he snapped them shut. A quick glance around showed eyes staring back at his. He didn't stay long enough to see they had arousal instead of disgust, instead running to the privacy of a stall.
They didn't have locks... apparently, but they had doors, and that was enough. This arousal was too much. However he got it, he had to get rid of it. One hand clutched his balls while the other went for his dick. Except his dick was too small to jerk off. The best he could do was rub his head, but that only brought him more need. No closer to relief.
He kept trying desperately, painfully, with no success. So engrossed, he didn't notice the stall door had creaked open. "New to this?"
He yelped and looked up to see...