Midnight Pranks and Stolen Showers

The summer air hung thick and sticky around Camp Willowbrook, the kind of heat that turned the lake into a steamy mirror and made every breath feel like sucking on a wet rag. Owen had always been the golden boy here, but this year, after his growth spurt stretched him into a six-foot tower of lean muscle, he'd turned into a full-blown asshole. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, sun-kissed skin that glowed under the perpetual afternoon blaze—he strutted around like he owned the place, flirting shamelessly with every counselor who crossed his path. Brooke remembered how he'd cornered her by the canoe racks last week, his hand lingering too long on her arm as he whispered some bullshit about sneaking off after lights out. She'd played along at first, laughing at his cocky grin, but then he'd ghosted her for Kaitlin the next day, leaving Brooke fuming. Kaitlin, with her sharp wit and effortless curves, had her own scars from Owen's games—late-night texts that led nowhere, promises of "something special" that evaporated like morning dew.

Now, the four of them—Kaitlin, Brooke, Katie, and Stacy—huddled in the dim glow of their cabin's lantern, plotting revenge. Katie, the short blonde with a pixie cut and a shy demeanor that hid a spark of mischief, fiddled with the bungee cords they'd swiped from the gym. She was the quiet one, always blushing during group chats, but tonight her eyes gleamed with that hidden fire. Stacy, tall and athletic with a no-nonsense ponytail, cracked her knuckles. "That fucker's been playing us all summer," she said, her voice low and edged with glee. "Time to knock him down a peg. Or twelve." Brooke nodded, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she outlined the plan: Owen's late-night showers by the lake, his "extra swim practice" excuse that no one bought. They knew his routine— he'd strip down, rinse off the chlorine, and emerge like some Adonis. But rumors swirled. Whispers from past summers about why he never hooked up, why he dodged the skinny-dipping dares. The girls had pieced it together from overheard locker room talk: Owen's secret shame, a dick so small it barely registered.

They borrowed the camp's high-speed golf cart from the maintenance shed, the engine humming quietly as they piled in just after midnight. The hot evening wrapped around them like a fever dream, fireflies blinking in the underbrush as they bumped down the dirt path toward the lake. Katie gripped the wheel, her small hands steady despite the adrenaline buzzing through her. "This is gonna be epic," she murmured, her shyness melting away in the dark. Kaitlin leaned back, her confident laugh cutting through the tension. "Just wait till he sees us. Cocky prick won't know what hit him."

The boys' bathroom loomed ahead, a weathered wooden structure with a large window facing the woods—perfect for their vantage. They killed the cart's lights and crept forward, hearts pounding. Peering through the glass, they spotted him immediately. Owen stood under the sputtering showerhead, water cascading over his lithe body. Fuck, he was beautiful. Years of "extra practice" in the lake had sculpted him—long, toned legs, a V-shaped torso that tapered to narrow hips, his ass firm and rounded like it was carved from marble. The girls exchanged wide-eyed glances. "Holy shit," Brooke whispered, her breath fogging the pane. "He's a jerk, but damn." Katie bit her lip, a flush creeping up her neck. Even Stacy, the toughest of them, let out a soft "wow." Kaitlin smirked. "Too bad the rest doesn't match."

That's when Katie noticed it: his clothes and towel, neatly folded on the bench just outside the door. No lock, no cover. "Look at that," she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and triumph. "Either he's the dumbest guy alive or he really thinks no one's gonna catch him." The others snickered. "With a body like that?" Kaitlin replied. "What's to hide?" They ducked into the bushes as the water shut off, holding their breath.

Owen stepped out, completely nude and dripping wet, his confidence radiating like he was on a private runway. From their hiding spots, the girls got the full view for the first time. His chest heaved slightly from the cool night air, nipples hard, water trailing down the ridges of his abs. But then their eyes dropped lower, and the sight hit like a punchline to a cruel joke. Nestled above a pair of smooth, heavy balls was the tiniest cock imaginable—barely two inches soft, a pathetic little nub that looked lost against his otherwise perfect frame. It dangled there, unassuming and ridiculous, like a cruel cosmic afterthought.

"Oh my god," Stacy gasped, barely stifling a laugh. Brooke's hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide. Katie's shyness shattered into a giggle she couldn't contain. Kaitlin just shook her head, her funny streak kicking in. "No fucking way. All that swagger for... that?"

Owen froze at the empty bench, his face twisting in panic. He spun around, naked vulnerability hitting him like a truck. His hands darted to cover his groin, but not before the girls soaked in every inch—the contrast of his sculpted body and that minuscule dick making the whole scene absurdly erotic in its humiliation. He scanned the darkness, looking every bit the frightened boy beneath the hunk facade, his cheeks burning red.

The girls stepped out from the bushes, flashlights clicking on to illuminate his exposure. "Surprise, Owen," Kaitlin drawled, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Nice... everything. Well, almost." Stacy burst out laughing, pointing outright. "Is that it? Fuck, it's like a baby carrot. No wonder you've been dodging pussy all summer." Brooke crossed her arms, trying to stay composed but failing as a smirk pulled at her lips. "You played with my heart, asshole. Now we're playing with yours." Katie hung back a second, her fiery side igniting as she watched him squirm, his hands cupping that tiny package like it could hide his shame.

Owen whined, high-pitched and desperate, backing up against the bathroom wall. "What the fuck? Give me my clothes! This isn't funny!" He looked ridiculous, all that height and muscle reduced to a cowering mess, his little dick peeking out between his fingers.

Katie moved like a shadow, sneaking behind him while the others kept him distracted. Before he could react, her hand cracked across his wet ass—hard, the smack echoing in the night. Owen squealed, a girly yelp that sent the girls into hysterics. He twisted, but Katie was fast, looping the bungee cords around his wrists and yanking them tight behind his back. "Gotcha," she said, her voice breathy with excitement, the shy girl nowhere in sight.

Now fully exposed again, Owen's tiny cock bobbed free, soft and insignificant, balls tightening in the cool air. The laughter erupted anew, mean and unrelenting. "Look at it wiggle!" Stacy crowed, circling him like a shark. "Teenie weenie on parade. Bet you've never even fucked with that thing." Kaitlin leaned in close, her hot breath on his neck. "This is your lesson, pretty boy. For breaking hearts and acting like God's gift. Have fun being naked the rest of the night." She gave his ass a playful slap, her fingers lingering just enough to make him flinch.

"Noooo!" Owen wailed, twisting futilely against the bonds, his voice cracking. The girls piled into the golf cart, engine revving to life. "Chase us if you can, short stuff!" Brooke called, tossing his clothes into the back seat out of reach. They sped off, tires kicking up gravel, leaving Owen stumbling after them on bare feet.

He ran, or tried to, his bound hands throwing off his balance. That pathetic little dick flopped wildly with every step—flailing like a worm on a hook, no more than four inches even if it twitched to life from the adrenaline. "Wait! It's not that small!" he whined, his pitch rising into something almost comical. The cart bounced ahead, the girls' laughter trailing behind like smoke.

Stacy twisted in her seat, yelling back. "Your whining's as tiny as your dick, Owen! Like a little boy throwing a tantrum." He kept pleading, voice hoarse. "Please, stop calling it tiny! It gets bigger, I swear! Fuck, this isn't fair—give me my clothes back! The fun's over!"

Kaitlin hit the gas harder. "Fat chance, micro-man. You're staying bare-assed till dawn. Maybe it'll humble that cocky streak." They reached their cabin first, screeching to a halt and bolting inside, slamming the door and locking it tight. Owen arrived minutes later, panting and slick with sweat, his body glistening under the porch light. He banged on the door, naked glory on full display—cock still dangling small and defeated between his thighs. "Please! Let me in! I can't be out here like this!"

The girls peeked through the curtains, stifling giggles as a light flicked on in the next cabin over. Two other counselors—senior girls who'd been half-asleep—stuck their heads out, spotting Owen in all his nude panic. "Oh my god, is that Owen?" one shrieked, her eyes locking on his crotch. "It's so small! What the fuck happened to you?" Owen shrieked back, a mortified wail, and bolted into the woods, tears stinging his eyes as he vanished into the shadows.

Inside, the cabin erupted in celebration. They cracked open sodas, high-fiving over their victory. "Did you see his face?" Katie laughed, her shyness fully banished, cheeks flushed from the thrill. "Or that little thing bouncing? Priceless." Brooke felt a twinge of something—pity? But mostly satisfaction. Owen had earned this, after all his games. Stacy and Kaitlin recounted the best burns, the night air cooling as they replayed the chase in their minds, bodies buzzing with the forbidden excitement of it all.

Meanwhile, Owen stumbled through the camp's winding paths, heart hammering. Every rustle in the bushes made him jump, his bound wrists chafing, that embarrassing nub exposed to the world. He'd always hidden it, the virgin fear gnawing at him despite his looks—late showers to avoid the locker room, excuses to skip hookups. Now it was out, literally, and the humiliation burned hotter than the summer sun. He ducked behind trees, but luck wasn't on his side. As he neared the main field, two senior girl counselors—Lena and Mia, both tall and no-bullshit types—emerged from patrol, flashlights sweeping.

"Well, well," Lena said, spotting him first. "Owen? Naked and breaking curfew? Naughty boy." They grabbed him before he could run, strong hands pinning his arms as they marched him to a sturdy oak at the field's edge. "Punishment time," Mia grinned, looping more rope from their kit around his waist and ankles, tying him spread-eagled to the trunk. His tiny cock hung there, on pathetic display, the ropes pulling his body taut, muscles flexing uselessly.

The girls circled, cruel mockery flowing freely. "Look at this," Lena sneered, flicking his soft dick with a finger—it barely moved, a sad two-inch twitch. "All that pretty face and body, wasted on a micropenis. Bet you've jerked that thing a million times and still feel empty." Mia laughed, her hand grazing his thigh teasingly close. "Virgin for a reason, huh? No girl's gonna feel that sad excuse for a cock. It's like a clit with balls." Owen whimpered, tears tracking down his face, the exposure making his skin crawl. They left him there, tied and displayed like a warning, the night air teasing his exposed skin as they sauntered off, whispering about spreading the word.

Hours dragged on, the camp quiet except for distant owl calls. Owen's mind raced—embarrassment from past flings flashing back, like that time Lindsay yanked down his swim trunks at the pool, leaving him scrambling in front of everyone. He'd been cocky then too, but this was worse, his small-dick secret laid bare. Just before sunrise, as the sky blushed pink, footsteps approached. Owen tensed, expecting more ridicule, but it was Brooke. She emerged from the path, her expression softening at the sight of him—ropes biting into his skin, cock shriveled small from the chill, body arched vulnerably against the bark.

"Jesus, Owen," she said, pulling a pocketknife from her shorts. "What a mess." She sawed through the ropes carefully, freeing his wrists first, then his legs. He slumped forward, rubbing his arms, still naked and trembling. Brooke draped her hoodie over his shoulders, covering him partially as she walked him back toward his bunk, the camp stirring awake around them.

"I'm sorry," Owen mumbled, voice thick with sniffles. "For being such an ass. The flirting, leading you on... I was scared, okay? Of this getting out." He gestured vaguely at his crotch, the tiny dick hidden now but the shame fresh.

Brooke nodded, her hand on his back. "I get it. And I'm sorry too—for the teasing. We were cruel about your... size. I know guys, especially ones with small dicks, get sensitive about it. Didn't mean to hit that hard." They reached his bunk, the door creaking open to the empty room. Owen hesitated, the hoodie slipping as he turned to her, vulnerability cracking his handsome facade.

They were even, she said, but as the first light filtered in, something shifted. Brooke's eyes lingered on his body—the lithe muscles, the way his chest rose and fell. "You know," she murmured, stepping closer, "I might be open to seeing your tiny guy again. Up close. No judgments."

Owen's breath hitched, surprise flickering in his eyes. He let the hoodie drop, standing bare before her, that small cock twitching to life—stretching to its full four inches, hard and eager despite everything. Brooke's hand reached out, wrapping around it gently, her fingers easily encircling the modest length. "See? Not so bad," she whispered, stroking slow and firm, feeling it pulse in her grip. Owen groaned, the sound raw, his hips bucking instinctively as years of pent-up fear melted into heat.

She guided him to the bunk, pushing him down onto the thin mattress. Brooke stripped off her tank top, revealing full breasts that swayed as she climbed over him, her shorts following suit. Her pussy was already slick, lips parting as she straddled his thigh, grinding against the hard muscle there. "Let me show you it's okay," she said, her voice husky. Leaning down, she took his small dick into her mouth—hot, wet suction enveloping it whole, tongue swirling around the head. Owen gasped, hands fisting the sheets, the sensation overwhelming after so long denying himself. She sucked greedily, bobbing her head, the ease of fitting him entirely making it intimate, intense—no gagging, just pure, focused pleasure.

"Fuck, Brooke," he moaned, his body arching. She popped off with a wet smack, climbing higher to position herself over him. Sinking down, she took his four inches easily, her tight pussy clenching around the modest intrusion. It didn't fill her completely, but the friction was perfect—every ridge and vein rubbing just right as she rode him, slow at first, then faster, her ass slapping against his thighs. Owen's hands found her hips, guiding her, the small size letting her control the depth, hitting her clit with each grind.

Katie's earlier smack echoed in his mind, but now it was Brooke's nails digging into his chest, her breaths coming in sharp pants. "You're not a joke," she said, leaning to kiss him, tongues tangling messy and desperate. He thrust up, the angle letting him grind against her g-spot despite the size, and she came first—pussy spasming, juices soaking his balls as she cried out, body shuddering.

Owen followed seconds later, his tiny cock throbbing as he unloaded, cum spurting in hot ropes inside her, filling her with surprising volume for such a small package. Brooke collapsed onto him, both slick with sweat, laughing softly. "Told you. Even."

Word of the night's chaos spread like wildfire by breakfast, but Owen walked taller, Brooke's hand brushing his as they grabbed coffee. The other girls—Kaitlin shooting him a wink, Katie blushing but smiling—knew they'd humbled him, but seeing him relaxed, finally owning his