History Repeats
By limpshrimp83.
A few weeks later, I was at my parents’ house with my girlfriend, making out on my bed. We knew my dad was due home any minute, so we kept it light, hands roaming but not undressing. When the knock came, she jumped up, grabbed a book off my dresser, and shoved something into her pocket. I didn’t register what until after my dad poked his head in, said hi, and left. Then she pulled out the box. The Magnums. She held it up, eyebrows raised, smirk spreading. “Did you really think these would fit?” she asked, her voice sweet and teasing. “You’re a bit… overconfident, aren’t you?” She covered her mouth, giggling. I just stared at her, caught off guard. I didn’t have a good answer. I mumbled something about a joke with my friends, but she wasn’t buying it. She tucked the box back into the drawer, patting my cheek, and that was that.
Fast forward a couple of years. Same friends, same gas station. We were stopping for road trip supplies, and Dave spotted the condoms. He grabbed one, held it up, and said, “Hey, you need to restock, big guy.” The others laughed. I rolled my eyes, walked up, grabbed a box, and paid for it along with a drink for my girlfriend and some gas. It was a deadpan repeat of the old bit. They howled. I just smiled.
They dropped me off at my place. My girlfriend was on the couch, scrolling on her phone. I set my bag on the table, told her I got her a drink in there, and headed for the shower. I took my time, scrubbing off the highway grit. When I finished, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked out into the kitchen.
She was standing by the table. She had the bag open. The Magnum box was in her hand. Her eyes met mine. I froze.
“Wow,” she said slowly, holding up the box like a trophy. “Did you really think you could fit in these?” Her voice was low, playful, but with an edge. “You’re a fair bit overconfident, aren’t you? Especially for a guy with such a tiny penis.”
Before I could respond, she stepped forward, grabbed the knot of my towel, and yanked it open. It fell to the floor. I was completely exposed. My soft cock hung there, three inches if I stretched it, dwarfed by the box she# The Magnum Incident.
I was seventeen, hanging out with my buddies at a gas station on a Friday night. We’d just come from the arcade, still buzzing with that post-gaming energy, and someone needed snacks. The place was empty except for the clerk, an older guy who couldn’t have cared less about a bunch of teenagers killing time.
We were wandering the aisles when Chris spotted the condom display. He elbowed Derek, nodding toward the row of boxes. “Dude, you ever used Magnums?”
Derek snorted. “I wish. I’d need three of ’em just to cover my pinky.”
They laughed, joking back and forth, the kind of stupid macho bullshit seventeen-year-old guys do when they have an audience of each other. I stood there listening, smirking, feeling that familiar knot in my stomach. I was small. I knew it. Had known it since middle school locker rooms. Three inches hard, barely a nub when flaccid. But I’d learned to laugh along, to deflect, to make jokes before anyone else could.
Which is why I walked up to the display, grabbed a box of Magnum XLs, and tossed them on the counter.
Chris’s jaw dropped. Derek started howling. “No fucking way, dude. You’re not seriously—”
I pulled out my wallet, paid the cashier like it was nothing, and stuffed the box in my jacket pocket. “What? A man’s gotta be prepared.”
They were still laughing when we piled back into Chris’s car, but it was the good kind of laugh—the kind where I was in on the joke, not the butt of it. For a few minutes, I felt like I’d pulled one over on them.
I forgot about the condoms entirely. Tossed the box into my bedside drawer and didn’t think twice.
—
Two weeks later, my girlfriend came over. Let’s call her Sarah. We’d been dating for about four months, and things were good. She was sweet, had a great smile, and I was pretty sure she was the one I’d lose my virginity to. We’d been getting handsy, making out in my room whenever my parents were out, but we hadn’t gone all the way yet.
That afternoon, my parents were supposed to be gone until six. We’d been on my bed, her on top of me, my hands under her shirt, her lips on mine, when we heard the front door open.
My dad’s voice boomed from the hallway. “Hey, kid! You home?”
We froze. Sarah scrambled off me, fixing her shirt, smoothing her hair. I sat up, trying to look casual, my heart racing. My dad knocked on my door, and before I could answer, Sarah grabbed a book off my dresser—some random paperback—and shoved something into her pocket. Quick, smooth, like she’d done it a hundred times.
“Come in,” I said.
My dad poked his head in, glanced at us, and grunted. “Dinner’s in an hour. Your mom’s ordering pizza.” He didn’t wait for a response, just closed the door and walked away.
I exhaled. “Close one.”
Sarah didn’t answer. She was staring at her pocket, her hand still inside it. Slowly, she pulled out the box of Magnum XLs.
My stomach dropped.
She held them up, reading the label, her eyebrows rising. Then she looked at me, and a slow grin spread across her face. “Did you really think these would fit?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
“You’re a bit… overconfident, aren’t you?” She covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. Not mean, not cruel, just… amused. Like she’d caught me trying to impress her with something ridiculous.
“They were a joke,” I said, my face burning. “I bought them with my friends. It’s a running gag.”
She didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes. But she didn’t push. She just tossed the box back into the drawer, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. “Sure, babe.”
We didn’t talk about it again, but I never forgot that look on her face. The way she’d found the whole thing hilarious.
—
Fast forward a year and a half. I’m twenty, still dating Sarah, still hanging out with Chris and Derek. The gas station bit had become legendary. Every time we passed one, someone would comment that I needed to “restock.” I played along, always ready with a comeback, always leaning into the joke. It was easier than the alternative.
So when we pulled into a 7-Eleven on a Saturday night, Chris didn’t even have to say anything. He just pointed at the condom aisle, grinning.
I shrugged, walked over, grabbed a box of Magnum XLs, and bought them along with a soda and a bag of chips. Also grabbed a peach Snapple for Sarah, because I knew she liked them.
“Atta boy,” Derek said, clapping me on the shoulder as we walked out. “Keeping that legend alive.”
Chris dropped me off around nine. Sarah was already at my place, watching TV in the living room. I walked in, dropped my bag on the kitchen table, and called out, “Hey, I got you a drink. It’s in the bag.”
“Thanks, babe!” she yelled back.
I headed to the bathroom, stripped down, and took a long, hot shower. Let the water run over me, washing off the day. I wasn’t thinking about the condoms. Wasn’t thinking about anything except how good it felt to be home.
I dried off, wrapped a towel around my waist, and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Sarah was standing by the table, holding the box of Magnum XLs.
She looked up when I walked in, and that same smile from a year ago spread across her face. “Wow,” she said, holding the box up like a trophy. “Did you really think you could fit in these?”
I sighed. “It’s a joke, Sarah. The guys and I—”
“You’re a bit overconfident, aren’t you?” She cut me off, stepping closer. “Especially for a guy with such a tiny penis.”
I froze. She’d never said it like that before. Never been so direct. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could get a word out, she reached out, grabbed the edge of my towel, and ripped it clean off.
I stood there, naked, exposed, my soft little dick hanging there like a pathetic afterthought. Three inches when hard. Maybe one when soft. A tiny nub nestled in a patch of pubic hair.
Sarah pointed at it and burst out laughing.
Not a giggle. Not a chuckle. Full, belly-deep laughter that bent her over at the waist. She was pointing at my crotch, tears forming in her eyes, the Magnum box still clutched in her other hand.
“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “Oh my god, that is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I stood there, towel at my feet, completely naked, completely humiliated, my face burning crimson. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Just watched her laugh at the size of my dick.
“You bought Magnum XLs,” she said, catching her breath. “For that?” She gestured at my crotch, still laughing. “That’s like putting a Ferrari badge on a go-kart.”
She straightened up, wiped her eyes, and finally looked at me. The laughter softened into a knowing, almost fond smile. “I love you, babe. But you are not fitting into these.”
She tossed the box onto the table, walked past me, and patted my bare ass as she went. “Put some pants on. You’ll catch a cold.”
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the Magnum box on the table, feeling the cold air on my exposed skin. My dick, small and soft, felt like a punchline to a joke I’d been telling for years.
And the worst part?
She was right.
The End.
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