One day last fall, I woke up with a … with this … with a … well, it was, it was all covered with hair and um, it was, oh, it was big and, ah, it was a … you know, it was a … what it was was a … it was like a, well … it was a penis. A real one. It scared me to death.
by Karen Carper
as told to docweasel
I had all the right kind of privates when I went to bed, I think, but when I got up I had a you-know-what and some other things from a boy’s “down there” and it was terrible. Can you imagine being a sixteen-year-old girl who is very popular and who has a really neat life but suddenly grows a … penis? Oh, God.
I thought it was the end of the world or something because I wanted to be a wife or a girl friend, at least, and a mother, and wives and mothers and even girl friends don’t have you-know-whats. And if I wasn’t a girl anymore, I would have to take boys’ gym and shop class and I would have to quit cheerleaders and the girls’ gymnastics team. I’d have to get all new clothes and bedroom furniture and I could never be pretty again. Plus I’m sure it would really make my relatives upset.
I don’t know how this happened to me. It just did. But I think it had something to do with my hormones, because at my age hormones are really screwy and it doesn’t take too much to make them even more screwy. just before this happened, I had a serious pimple attack, so my hormones must have been wrong already for that to happen. I also was drinking a lot of Cokes and eating a lot of French fries and I went through this period when I kind of craved Kit-Kat candy bars and I think that maybe all that stuff affected my hormones that were not too good in the first place.
Also, about a week or so before I woke up with the … with that “thing” “down there,” I noticed my little thingie that’s in my “down there” and is hard to find because it’s so small and all wrapped up in stuff, I noticed that it was kind of sore. I thought it was just a virus or a “girl problem,” but then it got, like sort of, you know, it was like swollen?
And then a couple of days later it looked a little bigger. And then, that morning … I mean, I don’t spend a lot of time staring down at my personal area, if you know what I mean, so I tend to miss things that go on “down there.” But I sure couldn’t miss this. It was as big as a carrot.
“It,” the “thing,” that is, the “thing” I woke with, was, to describe it, well, it was the stiff kind and as long as my hand and thicker than a bottle of Ban roll-on. It was the color of a Mexican person’s skin and it had a whole bunch of gross veins all over it. And the tip part there was like a knob with a hole in it which is for both kinds of stuff to go out of, you know. Then down below were the whatchamacallits and they were really ugly.
I was somewhat terrified by all of this and I really, really missed my girl privates and I wondered where they went and would they ever come back. I didn’t want to tell anybody because I didn’t want to end up in one of those newspapers at the grocery store that have weird people and stories in them. I felt like the “thing” belonged to somebody else and I just couldn’t get used to it poking out of my pajamas. Plus, I had to go the bathroom super-bad and I had no idea at all of how to use one of those things. Also, how do you walk with one so that your family doesn’t know about it?
I tried walking a couple of different ways. They all looked ridiculous. Finally I had to bend way over like my grandmother, who has curvature of the spine, and walk with my legs stiff. I looked out my door. There wasn’t anybody around so I went down the hall real quick and into the bathroom. I locked the door and pulled up my nightie, and then I saw myself in the mirror with my, up on the top with my — how do I say it? — with my chest with my bosoms on it and then down “below” with a “thing” It looked pretty weird but, you know, sort of cool, but sort of scary but also not so bad, but actually, probably, gross.
And then I found out pretty fast that girl going-to-the-bathroom is a lot easier than boy going-to-the-bathroom. First of
all, you know, the “thing” was going up and the toilet was down. So, if you think about it, the number one would go up and then come down, but how far up would it go and how hard and where would it come down? I’m no genius in math so I couldn’t exactly figure it out, but oh God. I had to go so bad. And I couldn’t do it like I usually did because that would mean it would go up and come down in my lap, which would not be too cool.
So instead, I stood over the toilet like I was going to sit down only more like straddling it and I didn’t sit down either; I leaned way, way back and put my head against the wall (I’m on the girls gymnastics team), and I figured the number one would go up and come down in the toilet, but that’s not what happened at all. I relaxed my going-to-the-bathroom muscles (they are the same in boys and girls, for your information), and yucky number one blasted out of the “thing” and it went all over. It was out of control, spraying like crazy all over the towels and the toilet paper and the floor, and when I turned around to try and point it into the toilet (they don’t bend), it squirted all over the sink and the toothbrushes (yuck.) and my makeup
(brand new..) and the hair dryer.
Boys and dads talk about how they have it made because they can go out in the woods. Well, they don’t have it made at all because it’s just a mess. Also, those things are practically impossible to, you know, to wipe. Because you wipe off the end and it still drips and drips. No matter how much you wipe it, it still leaks.
After going to the bathroom, the penis became an unstiff one. I was so relieved because I thought that it was going away, but a couple of minutes later, when I tried to put on my underpants, it went and got bigger again. What a pain. Plus, when it’s small it’s even uglier. It’s shrively and wrinkly and it looks liked dried-up fruit.
Speaking of underpants, if all girls grew “things,” there sure would be a lot of girls’ underpants given to the Goodwill because “things” and whatchamacallits don’t fit into girls’ underpants at all. Even when it was small it wouldn’t fit into my underpants, not even my great big period panties, so I had to steal a pair of my brother’s underpants, and if you think it’s not sickening to wear somebody else’s boys’ underpants, you’re crazy.
Also, boys’ underpants are extremely ugly. They have this funny opening in the front and they’re white and made out of dumb material and they have real wide waistbands and they’re not pretty at all. Plus, the penis kept falling out of the opening, which I don’t know why is there if the penis falls out, do you? I had to put it back, but it got twisted around and bent under. And whenever I touched it to move it, it got bigger and that made it harder to move and so I had to touch it more and pretty soon it was all tangled up and it took about ten minutes to fix it and by then my mom was screaming for me to come down and eat breakfast.
It is so embarrassing to eat and talk with your mom and dad and brother with a “thing” in your pants. Plus, it was hard to walk when it was stiff. But it was okay because by the time I sat down, it was small, but then when it was small, it stuck to the skin on my leg and that felt just icky. The good thing about girls’ “privates” is that even though you get a “visitor” every month, the stuff stays the same size all the time and it doesn’t make it hard for you to walk. You know, lots of boys walk funny sometimes, and I’ll bet this is why.
Anyway, after breakfast I said goodbye to my parents, who were going to play tennis because it was Saturday,, and I said good-bye to my brother, who was going camping with his friends, and when everybody was gone I went back upstairs and looked at myself some more.
This may sound really queer, and please understand that I don’t do this often and I never did it before, but I laid on my back naked (it sounds icky but it wasn’t at the time, really), but I laid there and, um, I looked down, and sort of, sort of, well, I didn’t have my clothes on and I looked between my “busts,” I looked between them and down at the penis thing and to see both of them at the same time was “interesting.”
I kind of experimented with it, like, I found out that by squeezing my rear end muscles I could make the “thing” jump, and then when I let go it dropped down, which was neat, sort of, and was something I could never do in a million years with girls’ parts. Like I said, it was real ugly, but after looking at it for a while, I sort of decided that it was cool-ugly (the guy who sings for Queen is super-ugly but still cool).
The whatchamacallits, however, are just plain regular ugly. They are in this bag thing that is made of skin that is as saggy as anything. Sometimes it was loose and felt sort of like a hairy glove and then like if a breeze blew in the window or I touched the mirror to it and the mirror was cold, it shrunk up and looked like the sides of an accordion.
Way, way back behind the whatchamacallits was the rear end, and I think it was the one I always had, except it had hair around it.
As I was “down there” I kind of wondered, and I don’t mean that I thought about this right away, it sort of just flashed in my mind and I’m not into this at all and I was not a big fan of this sort of stuff when I was completely girl and had all the girl stuff, but I wondered about what would happen if I did to it what sometimes happens with boys. Do you know what I mean? Let me start over. I should probably never, ever, ever tell anyone about this and I’m sure that right now my common sense is having a s—fit, but I’ve, like, made love with my hand about ten times to my boyfriend Chuck (this is embarrassing), which is called a “hand job,” which, if you don’t know, is sex with your hands. And, to make a long story short, I wondered a little bit if I could do the same thing to myself that I did to Chuck.
I didn’t know if it was different when you do it to a boy than when you do it to yourself because I never had a “thing” before and so how could I know? So I decided, and this may sound real sick, but it’s what happened and I guess it was kind of gross, but it wasn’t, if you knew what I felt like then. I guess you had to be there. But anyhow, I did it like I did it to Chuck, that was, I put my fingers around it and I counted one-two-three like I always do but this time I counted out loud (I don’t count out loud with Chuck). I counted one-two-three and then I started going up and down like I was shaking up a can of whipped cream, and boy did it ever hurt. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH. I pulled off some skin. Poor Chuck.
I sure had a lot to learn but it was fun, sort of, learning. I should probably tell you that when a girl gets touched in a “certain way” in a “certain place,” if you get what I’m saying, it sort of tickles, then it feels good, then it tickles again, then it feels good again, then it tickles again, and so on until you have to go home or you get scared. But with a boy’s “thing” it feels better and better and better until bang. You shoot sperms all over yourself. That part feels great. You don’t even care if you got sperms in your face and your hair and on the curtains that your mom just made for you.
Let me be the first to say that sperm is the absolute grossest. Even when it’s your own. Uck. It smells like Comet cleanser and it looks like runny nose.
Plus, it is sticky gooey and it splatters out of the penis in warm, gucky glumps and glops and it keeps coming out even after you get dressed. After you finish, you don’t remember how cool it felt, you just feel stupid and guilty and sick with yourself for doing it and getting sperms all over everything, and sperms are living, you know — they’re like bugs, and they get all over. On top of that, the penis gets small and ugly. The only thing that is better about boy “sex” by yourself than girl “sex” by yourself is that with boy “sex,” you know when it’s over.
That afternoon I had gymnastics practice. I rode my ten speed over to the school and, let me tell you, all that riding with a “thing” and the other stuff is a lot different. Mainly because the “stuff” squishes around and you probably already know that when that “stuff” squishes around, the “thing” gets stiff, which it did, and when it’s stiff you can’t pedal, believe me.
One more thing about a penis. It doesn’t look very good in a leotard. Because it shows and it’s no secret that you have a penis when you wear one, so I had to bring a pair of culottes and blouse that matches to practice. I’d rather have everybody think I’m retarded than to have them know that I had a penis, because with that I couldn’t be in a girls’ gymnastics meet, Could I? I will say, though, that wearing culottes and a blouse in gymnastics is about as queer a thing as you can do in high school.
I was fifth up on the balance beam, which is my specialty. I was second runner-up at the All-State Girls’ Invitational Round Robin Suburban Central Division Finalist Prep Meet and I’ve practiced a lot since then. My main stunt on the beam was a handstand and then a swing down into a straddle position.
Everything was going just perfect and I felt like I was in the Olympics until I went into my handstand and then swung down into the straddle position and landed on everything “down there”… and it felt like somebody shot a bullet up my rump and clashed cymbals on my head. Then I rolled off the beam and onto the floor and laid there all curled up and screaming.
Naturally, anytime a girl falls down in gym, everybody thinks she’s broken her female organs and will never be able to have babies. But I just said I was okay and that some wind got knocked out of me and if it was okay, I’d just go home. My best friend, Roberta, helped me into the locker room. So far, this penis was a real stupid thing.
Roberta has always been my best friend since about three years ago and I like her a lot, but I didn’t want her to see “it” because if I didn’t like “it” too much and if she was grossed out by “it,” I’d feel even worse than I already felt. But Roberta sticks like Super-Glue and I knew she wouldn’t leave, and besides, deep down inside, way, way down in the most secret caves of my personal self, was a little voice that said, “Show her,” because secretly I wanted to show someone but then again I didn’t.
I said, “Roberta, are you my best friend?” And she said, “For sure.” And I said, “Can I trust you completely?” And she said, “For sure.” And so I said, “Even if it was sort of gross?” And she said, “What?” And I pulled down my culottes and she said, “Yeast?” And I said, “No. Look.” And she saw the underpants and she gasped and said, “Boys’ underpants.” I said, “Worse,” and I pulled down the underpants (girls pull down their underpants a lot when other girls are around and it doesn’t bother them). Roberta bent over just a little bit to get a better look and she was watching really intense and then all of a sudden the penis flipped out and Roberta’s mouth dropped open and her retainer fell out on the floor, I swear to God. Then she screamed, “A thing. A thing. You have a thing.” She was shrieking. “Oh, my God. God. God. A thing. A thing.”
I yanked up the underpants as fast as I could and I shouted, “You jerk.” in my most mad voice. But she just kept shrieking, “A thing. You have a thing.” She’s really immature sometimes.
Obviously she had never seen a penis before. She probably never even saw her dad’s and she doesn’t have any brothers and she’s not very popular with boys because she’s fat and not altogether beautiful and so I guess I can’t blame her for being as shocked as she was. It was just kind of depressing to have someone act like you’re a freak because you have something that you never asked for and have to have anyway.
Roberta acted hysterical for a little while longer and then she sort of calmed down (I think she got tired) and then we sat and stared at each other and I told her how I woke up with “it” and everything like that and she said she was really shocked at first but now it didn’t seem so bad. Then she asked if she could look at it again.
Roberta really studied it close and made a lot of remarks about it and asked a whole bunch of questions about stuff that I didn’t know about, so I just told her that it was a real, actual man’s penis and that was all I knew. And then she asked if she could touch it.
I didn’t know about that. She was a girl and I was a girl. But I wasn’t a girl “down there” because girls don’t have “those.” So I guessed that it couldn’t be queer because it’s only queer when girls’ parts and girls’ parts touch. So I said, “Go ahead and touch it because it’s not queer to touch it.” And she picked it up like it was a little white mouse in biology lab or something and then she looked under it and pulled it and squeezed it.
Can you guess what happened when she did all that? Right. And it got stiff all of a sudden in one big spurt and it flew out of Roberta’s hand. It slapped her chin and scared the life out of her and she screamed and jumped and put her hands up to her mouth like in the movies. I started to laugh, it was just so funny, and Roberta started to laugh, too, and we got real hysterical.
But it wasn’t too safe to be out in the locker room with a “thing,” so we went into the towel room and locked the door so I could show Roberta how cool it looked to have a “thing” plus boobies. You’d probably do the same if you were in my situation, she was my friend and all. Then Roberta got real excited and she was laughing and she grabbed it and I got that weird feeling in my butt and my hips started moving all by themselves and I crouched down and closed my eyes and then, you know, well, it just, it … I squirted sperms all over Roberta’s sleeve.
It completely grossed Roberta out to have sperms on her sleeve. She grabbed a towel and started rubbing like crazy and I thought she was going to throw up, but then she asked me if that was a “hand job” she’d just done and I said I guessed so and then she seemed to look sort of happy, real happy all of a sudden, and she said, “I did a hand job? That was a hand job?” and she forgot all about the sperms that were swimming on her blouse because she was so relieved to find out that “hand jobs” don’t hurt or make you bleed and you don’t have to put anything gross in your mouth. But I was still really surprised when she said, “Let’s go over to your parents’ house and have ‘sex relations’ with it.” Which was what she said next.
You see, although Roberta and I are virgins, I am less of a virgin than she is, and anyway, we both know that a man puts his … you know, there’s a woman’s too and together they put this, um, oh, let’s see, they, he, she, he puts the … penis in her, you know what it is, it’s a vagina and he puts “it” in there. In other words, he sticks his in hers.
So, the first thing to do at my house was to get naked, which we did, and although I’ve seen Roberta naked about a million times (we have gym together), I thought it was kind of gross, but now it didn’t look too bad. She bent over to take off her underpants and I sneaked a look up at her bottom. Now that sounds very sick, but at the time it was okay.
Then we had to decide which way to do “it,” so I just said for Roberta to bend over and we could do “it” like “that” and she said no because then she couldn’t see. It was her idea for us to lay on top of each other, but I said that our boobies would be touching and, if that happened, it would definitely be “lezzie” plus how could she see that way and she said she could point toward the mirror, but that was icky. We tried sitting in a chair, but Roberta was too fat and the “thing” bent and it hurt.
We thought about it for a while and then finally we cleared all the junk off the top of my desk and Roberta climbed up on it and laid down (this gets a little weird and embarrassing) and her legs hung over the edge so that I could stand and point “it” at “hers” The part that was the worst was opening up her legs because when I did, I saw all of the most private, private parts on the inside and that should be a complete secret from everybody and I felt kind of sick and didn’t want to do it but I thought that I’d better in case this “thing” went away tomorrow. Anyway, I pointed “it” at her “place” and it looked pretty big and her … vagina looked pretty small. Roberta said, “It won’t fit. It’ll hurt.”
I personally didn’t think it would fit either, but I didn’t tell Roberta because, well … actually I really wanted to do this now. I mean, I don’t know why, I just did. (Are you sick yet?) And so I put “it” on her skin and stuff and pushed.
Roberta said, “Oww. Let’s not do this, okay?”
I pushed harder and harder and harder. Roberta gritted her teeth and moaned and then all of a sudden, whoooooosh. It slid in all the way and bumped into something and squirted sperms inside of Roberta just about under her belly button. Roberta grunted really loud, like a pig, and her hips started going back and forth so fast that I could hardly see them, they were all blurry. It was disgusting to see, but the “thing” felt the best. “Intercourse,” for all the bad things you hear about it, was pretty cool.
Roberta stopped moving and grunting a couple of seconds later and she laid there and then she started to cry. I pulled out the “thing” and it was coated with gunk from Roberta and some sperms were still coming out of it and that was the grossest part, so far, of all, about having a “thing.”
Incidentally, when you have “sex” girl-style you feel warm and cuddly and you want to hug and kiss and get married and have a house and children, but with boy “sex” you just want to get up and go outside and never think about girls again. So I didn’t want to hang around and listen to Roberta cry. She was moaning and saying that her vagina hurt and that it was probably all stretched out and wrecked and she couldn’t tell her husband that she was a virgin and she was only fifteen and all that stuff, and I didn’t want to hear it. Then she was putting on her bra and I was putting on my blouse and we both stopped and looked at each other and said, “The sperms.” There were sperms inside Roberta and we had forgotten all about what they can do to girls our age.
But by dinner time I was real comfortable with the penis. I wasn’t upset about Roberta anymore because she called and said that the sperms came out in her underpants on her way home and just as a precaution she jumped up and down 100 times and put two Midols in her vagina. And also I didn’t really care all that much at the time because I figured that would be her problem and, besides, who would make two girls get married?
I noticed one thing and that was that I felt like I was stronger. A lot stronger. For example, I did twenty push-ups (boy push-ups, not on-my-knees kind) and I chinned myself ten times and before I couldn’t even do one. That was neat. I guess it went with the penis.
I had a date with Chuck that night and he came over sort of early and had to stay downstairs and talk to my parents while I got ready, which took me a long time because for some reason or other, it was real boring to do my hair, which I usually like to do and I also hated putting on my makeup and I had to do it over about five times. But finally I got ready and I put on jeans and a long sweater and when I walked downstairs, I put my hand in front of my lump.
Chuck took me to a party and it was strange because I knew he was going to take me to a party and try to get me drunk or stoned, which is what he did, and I knew he was going to drive out to the pumping station and park, which is also what he did, and I knew he was going to do all this because that was what I wanted to do, too. Which was really strange.
Anyway, I let Chuck rub all over my boobies. I usually don’t let him do that right away and I still don’t, because I think a girl shouldn’t make herself available to that sort of stuff just like it was there for the taking without any meaningful relationships or anything, but that night it was okay, I guess. (But I don’t do it anymore.) But, anyway, it felt super and it made my “thing”
He took my blouse off, which I hardly ever let happen because it’s kind of embarrassing to be almost naked in a car, but it felt great when he rubbed on my bare boobies. By this time, my “thing” was huge. It was twisted and bent under and I had to move my legs and shake my hips to get it into a more comfortable position. Chuck was having the same problem. When we got our penises fixed, he put his mouth to my boobie and his tongue licked on it. Next he took my hand and put it on his It thing” outside his pants and he said in a real panting voice, “Take it out.”
So I pulled down his zipper and his “thing” flopped out. Meanwhile he pulled my zipper down and my “thing” flopped out. We were kissing at the time and Chuck’s tongue was feeling my teeth and suddenly it stopped feeling and just stayed still. He went up and down on my “thing” with his fingers and then he broke away from the kiss and looked down. I think he thought he was holding his own “thing,” but what he saw were two “things.” My big one and his sort of smaller one.
I said to him, “I grew a thing.”
Chuck let go of it like it was a dead rat and he looked at his hand and I thought he was going to cry, and he wiped it on the seat and started breathing fast and making choking sounds. He was so emotional about it that I got kind of
I don’t think Chuck felt too good and he looked real white and he started to shout, “What’s going on?” What is this? Is it a joke? Are you a guy? What is this?” And I said, “It’s okay, Chuck. It’s still me.”
Then he got really mad and screamed, “I touched a prick, I touched a cock, a pecker, a cock, a prick. I touched a priiiiiiick.” He was berserk.
He grabbed me and shook me and said, “Who are you? What are you?” Which I thought was a little overdramatic. He was ten thousand times worse than Roberta, and boys were supposed to be more insensitive than girls. I couldn’t stand all his shouting anymore, so I had no choice. I punched him in the face.
Then I explained to him that it was okay. I said, “I’m me and there’s nothing wrong except that I have a ‘thing.’ You have a ‘thing’ and I never acted like this when I touched yours.”
And he got all emotional again and said, “Don’t you understand? This is gay. This is fag stuff. You can’t be a guy and touch another person’s cock.”
And I had to explain to him that a gay is a guy who loves guys and I’m not a guy so how could I be a gay? That didn’t seem to make much difference, so I leaned over and grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a big kiss and he struggled like mad, but I kept kissing until he gave in and enjoyed it and we kissed and kissed.
I asked him if it was okay if, you know, if I held onto him “down there” and he said, “I don’t know.” But I did anyway and he didn’t seem to mind. I used all the stuff I learned that morning and I must have learned pretty good because Chuck was breathing real hard. Then in the middle of a great big kiss, I moved his hand down to my “thing” and I was expecting him to get angry but instead he just grabbed it and started going real fast up and down and he did it very well, which means he probably practices at home a lot. I started going faster on him and Chuck was in a sort of frenzy and he was making funny noises in the back of his throat and I’m pretty sure he was crying.
Then he started to lick my boobies again and it was then that I whispered something in his car that he whispers in my ear a lot. I whispered, “Use your mouth.”
He got very mad and sat up and let go of my “thing” and said, “This is sick, I’m not going to do it anymore.”
He tried to pull away from me but I grabbed his shirt and held him. He said, “You’re disgusting. We’re going home.”
I took my hand and grabbed Chuck by the hair on the back of his head. I pulled it just enough so that it hurt and Chuck was really scared because at that point I think I was stronger than he was and he couldn’t move.
“No,” he said, “don’t.”
I slowly forced his face down into my lap. Then I used my thumb and fingers to squeeze just below Chuck’s cheeks and force his jaws open. I pushed his open mouth down on my you-know-what.
It was over in about three minutes and it was super. Chuck almost choked and he almost barfed and all the way home he spit out the window and gagged. But all in all, he did a real good job.
I don’t see Chuck anymore because he’s not around. After that night, he got kind of strange and he beat up a lot of people including his aunt and he’s at military school now. As for my “thing,” it got smaller the next day and then smaller the next day and so on until about a week later it was all gone and I got all of my girl stuff back and I’m happy about it.
Roberta never got pregnant from me but she likes “intercourse” quite a bit and she ended up getting pregnant from some Italian guy who works for her Dad and she’s a lot different now. I never told anybody about the … penis, and I don’t think anybody found out.
I hardly ever think of it anymore, but I am very careful about what I eat and I never, ever, squeeze pimples on my face.