That story didn't go as far as this one will.
Wallyj84, you could conceivably compose another story about an alternate universe, a phallic tale which takes you to the science fiction heights of an Isaac Asimov or Arthur C. Clarke.
In this story Wally is a grad-assistant in a university laboratory, toiling with petri dishes and experiments in human growth hormone; a solitary figure in a white lab coat working at a table illuminated only by the glow of a single light. Fatigue creeps in as Wally works deep into the night. At some point he nods-off and face plants right into one of his experiments. (Hollywood special-effects fog from the 1960s)
When Wally awakens light is streaming through a window. OMG I've screwed-up again, Wally panics. I didn't complete my experiments and Professor Sturgis will really be pissed with me this time! Nevertheless, at that moment he feels a biological morning need to relieve himself and rushes into a nearby restroom and unzips. Hmm, he notices, my little Wally seems unusually large, at least for someone with a micro-phallus. I must have been dreaming sexually exciting thoughts last night. Later, after his usual dress-down by the cranky septuagenarian professor he returns home, miserable as always but determined to go-out to his favorite sports restaurant on that warm summer Friday evening.
Wally opens his closet in a vain search for contemporary cool-dude clothes that women on the prowl would accept as being worn by a man who knows who he is...and knows what he wants! Lacking that, he discovers an unwrapped dress shirt his mother bought for him on his last birthday and a tan pair of trousers. Look-out world, here comes Wally he beams. Laying his clothes out carefully he takes-off his pants and boxer briefs and heads for his shower in the bathroom. However as he passes the bathroom mirror he's taken aback. What the heck, his penis is hanging at a downward angle and is noticeably longer, even in a completely flaccid state. How the hell did that happen, Wally ponders? His penis was never like that. It was always kinda pokey with the head barely showing. It never-never hung down. How the hell he worried, could he enjoy being miserable if it did that? Oh well, it was nearly 7 o' clock and he wanted to be at the bar before it started filling-up with all the unattainable women he lusted for, women who would shut-him down with an instantaneous, silent sneer of condescension.
For the first time in months Wally has the good fortune of finding a self-parking space a discrete distance from the watering hole, safely far enough that the women he lusted for couldn't ferret-out that the "Wally-mobile" was in-fact his parent's hand-me-down, four-banger, sub-compact Toyota. After locking the door he turns and begins walking to the sports restaurant and the humiliating fate with women that unquestionably awaits him. Rounding a corner at the end of the block he feels an odd sensation, almost as if he's walking with more mass between his legs. It's a foreign, though not uncomfortable feeling which he ignores. As he reaches the restaurant and the bar area in-particular he surveys the area. It was packed with woman, tall and sleek women in figure-enhancing outfits with bare shoulders and glowing, tan skin and blonde hair cascading over their shoulders and down their backs. Yes, it was a target rich environment tonight-- for
those men but not him.
The evening's script went as it normally did. Wally was tongue-tied and characteristically lacked the glib and jocular ease that all the other men possessed upon encountering a woman they desired. Chemistry and petri dishes in university laboratories weren't a female aphrodisiac he reasoned. He glanced at a particularly desirable strawberry blonde sipping a glass of wine near the end of the bar and sighed. Allowing his gaze to lower, his began at her stiletto pumps and drank-in the sight of her long, toned limbs that went up to
there, up past a small waist and to her gloriously large breasts nearly spilling-out of her tight evening dress. Concluding any dialogue would be of no-avail he began to attempt as covert and quiet a way past her before an upwelling of small penis humiliation was too great to endure. As he made his way partially around her, he was rudely bumped from behind by a tall and intoxicated male. He was involuntarily shoved right into this woman's small and tight derriere, and as he did so Wally could feel an unmistakable compression of his body against her body. But more worrisome he felt an undeniable sensation of a long, foreign object in his pants pressed against this complete female stranger at the bar.
Wally immediately apologized profusely. He was not some perverted sex fiend to bump into a rear end of a woman he had never met. Feeling a blush of embarrassment begin to well-up in his face, he turned to walk away when he felt the soft touch of a woman's hand.
"Oh, there's no apology necessary." Her words came-out as smooth as finely-aged Jack Daniels. Wally remained frozen in fear and indecision as he watched her eyes provocatively glance down his body and then up.
"I'm Kristen. No need to apologize. It's really crowed in here." What the hell should he do now? He had never gotten this far before, not even with Debbie Durfler in band back in high school.
"I...I'm Wally." "Well Wally could you please hand me a napkin for my drink? Oh that's alright I'll reach for it myself." And with that Kristen glided past him, pressing her body once again against his, this time more firmly as she reached for a cocktail napkin at the bar. The foreign object in his pants lengthened noticeably to a point two-thirds the way to his left knee. She gazed confidently and boldly into his eyes, drawing closer to him. In hushed tones she whispered
"oh god, that's what I thought when you went by me the first time. Look, this place is really crowded and I thought we could go somewhere....more quiet?"
Now take-it away Wally!!!!!
