Now that Paul understood that his cock would change size to always be the perfect size, he actually paid a lot
less attention to its size. Some days he’d go out with eight inches, sometimes more or less. Never enough to
be obscene; he didn’t want to cause too much of a scene. No one else really treated him much different
depending what was between his legs that day; apparently he’d been more worried about cock size than anyone
else.
Well, almost anyone else. There was one guy at the gym who paid a fair bit of attention. The gym had
individual showers, but in two rows across a hall so you could see one other guy showering, and anyone walking
past could see you. And there was one guy who frequently seemed to end up in the shower opposite Paul. He
looked five or ten years older than Paul, decent build, a bit on the short side, with a ridiculous curly
coiffure that looked leftover from the 80’s. Paul didn’t know his name, but thought of him as Skeezeman,
since he seemed, well, skeezy.
Skeezeman always stared at Paul’s cock when they were in the showers. When Paul had a big cock, the stares
were a bit furtive and envious. When Paul had a smaller cock, the stares were smug. Skeezeman, for his part,
had a cock that looked a bit on the large side, though Paul had only ever seen it flaccid (thankfully).
One day Skeezeman was in the shower opposite him, staring particularly smugly, since Liz had “deep”-throated
Paul that morning and he wasn’t packing much. The smugness didn’t bother Paul at all, but the creepiness
weirded him out. He finished up a bit quicker than usual toweled off, and went to change. As Paul bent down
to open his locker, Skeezeman bumped into him.
“Oops, sorry, I didn’t see you down there.” It didn’t seem like an accident, and Paul thought the line was a
feeble attempt at a joke about his dick.
“Really? Because you sure spend a lot of time staring at me down there.”
“I’m just curious. How someone with a dicklet that tiny could ever satisfy a woman.”
“Don’t worry about me, I can satisfy a woman, believe me.”
“Pshaw, you wish.”
“No really, I can.”
“Oh, you’re so diligent that girls take pity on you and fake orgasms just to get you to stop? How pathetic.”
“Fuck you. I give my girlfriend the best orgasms she’s ever had, several times per day. I can please a woman
better than you.”
“Oh you think you can?”
“I know I can.”
“I’ll bet you fifty bucks you can’t.”
“Done.” They shook hands.
There followed a slightly awkward silence. Paul eventually broke it with “So... how are we judging this? I’m
guessing you won’t take my word.”
“No.”
“Videos then?”
“You suggested that pretty quick. You some kind of video editor?”
“No.”
Skeezeman looked at him suspiciously. “Still too easy to fake. Besides I don’t have a camera.”
“Fine, you got any ideas?”
“... no. Maybe I’ll just let you off this time.”
“No, fuck you, we made a bet and we’re seeing it through.”
“Alright, your loss. How do we judge it though?”
“I think it’s going to have to be in person.”
“Are you coming on to me?”
“No, dipshit, I’ll bring my girlfriend. It’ll be like a, a race.”
“A race?”
“Yeah, we both start fucking at the same time, whoever’s partner comes first wins. You can find a partner,
can’t you?”
“Don’t worry about me, I can get a partner whenever I want one.”
“Good, it’s agreed then. My place or yours?” asked Paul.
“Neutral ground would be fairer.”
“Fine with me, I don’t want to get to know you any better than I have to. The skyline motel?”
“Done. Loser pays for the room. Meet there at 7?”
That was in about an hour. Paul mentally checked his schedules and Liz’s. “Could you do 6:30?”
“Yeah, okay.” Skeezeman held out his hand for another shake.
“By the way, my name’s Paul.”
“Ray.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
Ray and Paul got dressed in silence. Paul left first.
"Shit," he thought, "what did I get myself into? I hope I can convince Liz to go along with this..."