The Friends of Timmy (Excerpt)
By Max Swan.
The soft thudding of his bare feet rings in his ears as he crosses the room and the loose tie on the bathrobe threatens to slip at any second. Rita places a firm hand on his back as she guides him to the far end. Once they reach the podium, she turns to address the room.
“Hi, everyone, and welcome to the annual life drawing classes here in Newtown,” Rita said warmly and smiling. “For the next week, we have someone you all know here to teach us.”
There’s some warm applause as they all acknowledge Jill.
“So, I’ll just turn it over to Jill and take my place alongside you,” Rita then turned to the blonde-haired teen and said, “Jill, we’re all yours.”
Jill stands as Rita disappears behind an easel.
“Most of you know the drill,” Jill said nervously. “But we have a couple of newcomers tonight, so welcome. We’re gonna start off with some simple poses and then move to something a little more advanced. Each pose will last twenty minutes, and we’ll have a short break halfway through.” Jill turns to address Timmy. “This is Tim. He’s our model for the night.” There’s some applause from the artists. “Tim, for the first pose I’d like you sitting on the podium, feet on the floor with your hands resting on your knees.”
Timmy’s heart is now racing so fast a lump has formed in his throat, and he cannot reply, instead, he just meekly nods and takes a step toward the podium. Before he even has a chance to decide what to do with the robe, he feels Jill’s hand on the back of his neck grabbing it, and the robe slides down to the hemline. In one smooth motion, Jill grabs the robe again and pulls. The loose tie on the waist offers no resistance as the robe’s swiftly removed from his body. Timmy almost trips and as he regains his balance the shock of what happened suddenly hits him.
He’s now standing naked in a room full of people who have mostly known him all his life. The teen stands stunned for a moment, his arms dangling limply by his side. Jill’s now staring intently at him wide-eyed and mouth open. Timmy watches as her eyes trace their way over his weedy thin body, stopping to stare directly at his little dick and balls. Then she gazes at his face, and her stupefied expression immediately changes to a smirk. There’s utter silence in the room as all the artists take in the new models body. No one laughs or jeers, but Timmy feels as if all the eyes in the room are on his little dick. His face burns hotter than it ever has before.
Easing down slowly on trembling legs, Timmy assumes the position that Jill had given him. It’s then he thought he hears a couple of stifled sniggers when he flinches slightly as his butt cheeks meet the cold floor of the podium. Sitting up straight, he opens his legs and rests his hands on top of his raised knees as instructed.
This utterly exposes his shaved dick and balls to the group in front of him. Timmy can only imagine how badly he’s blushing as his face feels very hot. As he scans the room, the teen’s met with numerous smirking faces as the artists stare at his little limp dick between his open legs. His dick is uncut and appears like a small acorn on some small balls. It doesn’t even really hang; it just sits on top all wrinkly and gross. Jill instructs the class to pick up their charcoal and begin.
The next twenty minutes pass quickly as Timmy goes into a trance, the soft scribbling of charcoal broken by whispers and instructions from Jill to the artists. Jill eventually calls for everyone to stop as it’s time for a new pose.
“Good work, everyone, I really like what I see so far,” Jill tells the artists. “This is a terrific opportunity we have here tonight thanks to Timmy. We can actually draw a naked child’s body here without having a real boy model for us. Timmy’s body, by proportion, is similar to a nine-year-old boy, so I hope you all show him some true gratitude for being so brave to model for us.”
There’s applause again and nodding.
Timmy is blinking rapidly as he takes in what Jill just said. First, she’s stopped calling him the adult version of his name ‘Tim,’ and second, Jill just likened his body to a nine-year-old boy. He wraps his arms around himself, wishing he could just run from the classroom, screaming.
Jill asks, “Would you mind standing for a moment, Timmy?”
He gets to his feet; Jill carries over a pile of pillows and sets them up in the middle of the podium.
“OK, Timmy, now I want you to sit on the pillows, legs parted and then lay back onto your elbows behind to support your weight. Can you manage that?”
Timmy just nods and gets into the pose and immediately feels exposed and defenseless. With his arms behind him and his feet on the floor, Timmy’s little dick is thrust pathetically into the air. He finds it hard to get into a comfortable position, and every little movement causes his tiny dick to wiggle noticeably.
The only benefit of being in this position is it’s almost impossible to keep his head up, so Timmy can no longer see the sneering faces of the group encircling him. The next twenty minutes passes slower as he feels the discomfort of the position settle in. Each time he shifts slightly, Timmy can feel his dick give a little wiggle with an accompanying snicker from at least one member of the group.
In spite of the mounting pain, Timmy relaxes slightly, no longer feeling embarrassed and starting to tremble with excitement. Bent over backward, he’s thrusting his little dick straight in the direction of Jill who’s talking to an artist and giving the old woman advice. Whenever she glances at Timmy, it’s not at his face; it’s always at his little dick.
Just when Timmy thought his arms were about to buckle under the pain, Jill suddenly says, “OK, time everyone. Great work too. I think we’ll take a break now, so go get some tea or coffee. There are even some home-baked cookies there courtesy of Rita. We went overtime on that pose, so I’m sure our model needs a rest.”
That news elicits a murmuring of delight from the group already familiar with Rita’s terrific baking skills. Rita comes over and helps Timmy from the podium. The rest of the room begin standing and making their way to the tea and coffee set up in the back corner of the classroom.
“This is a good chance to go to the toilet, Timmy, and maybe have some more beer if you need it,” Rita said, handing him the robe.
“Can I look at the drawings,” he asks.
“Not now, maybe at the end of the night. Now get along, Kiddo.”
Before Timmy can make a quick dash to the changing room, Jill cuts him off. She’s grinning at him, clearly enjoying the revelation of her neighbors ‘little’ secret. For so long now Timmy has had a crush on the beautiful young woman, but now he stands before her, trembling and naked while she leers at his groin. He feels the sudden urge to cover himself with his hands but resists.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asks with a smirk.
“Easy for you to say,” Timmy said, bowing his head.
“Well, I hope you didn’t struggle too much with that last pose. The next round tends to be a little more involved.”
Before he can ask Jill what she means, the blonde-haired woman turns and goes over to the artists sipping their beverages and eating cookies. Timmy puts on his robe and goes back to the change room. No one acknowledges him as he passes by, and eventually, the teen skulls another can of beer to calm his nerves. Sitting in the dirty room, he feels sick.
‘I know they’re all judging me,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Jilly thinks I have the body of a nine-year-old, and by that, she means my dick. Why did I ever agree to this? Oh, I didn’t, Jilly bullied me into doing it just as per usual. All my life she’s been forcing me to do whatever she wants, why am I a sucker for it.’
Timmy skulls another can of beer, feeling the woozy buzz of the alcohol and heads to the toilet to pee again. As he leaves the bathroom, Rita is there to take him back to the classroom.
“Time for your next session, Timmy,” she said with a smile.
“How am I going?” he asks with a slight slur to his words.
“You’re doing fine, young man. Everyone’s really enjoying drawing your interesting body.”
“By interesting, you mean, child-like?” Timmy asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, don’t sweat it, kiddo. People come in all shapes and sizes. Some are big, and some are ‘small,’ like you.”
The sarcasm in her voice was subtle, but Timmy caught it. He sways slightly as Rita leads him back to the podium. While before she led him with a hand on his back, she now firmly grips his ass as they move across the room. The pillows are still piled in the center and Rita guides Timmy so again he’s leaning back on the heap. As Timmy sits, he notices there’s now a small mirror propped in front of the podium so he can see his reflection. Then Jill stands in front of the group, and the room goes quiet.
“OK, let’s keep going, shall we. Now, we run overtime on the last pose, so we’ve only got time for one more tonight,” Jill said addressing the group. Turning to Timmy, she said, “This one is a little more difficult, so I’m going to help you. Lie back and lift your legs.”
Jill moves around behind Timmy and sits cross-legged. As he leans back, his head comes to rest in her lap; his neck pushes forward, so he’s still facing the group. Unsure of where Jill is going with this, Timmy lifts his legs with knees pressed together and brings them to his chest. Jill slides a hand under each of his thighs and pulls them apart. Timmy lets out a gasp as his knees pull apart, thrusting his crotch toward the group. He can barely move an inch under Jill’s vice-like grip as she contorts his body into an almost pretzel-like shape.
She leans forward and whispers into Timmy’s ear so only he can hear, “It’s time we give these people a good show. Why don’t you reach down and spread those cheeks of yours?”
Although it clearly isn’t a question, Timmy feels strangely compelled to comply. His mind feels foggy and drunk, and a fresh wave of arousal courses through his body. Sliding his hands to either side of his ass cheeks, he gently grips each one and pulls back. Timmy watches in the mirror as his cheeks part offering the slightest glimpse of his puckered asshole.
“You can do better than that,” Jill said, slightly louder this time, “open yourself up.”
Timmy’s heart is racing as he adjusts his grip. Holding tighter as Jill lets him slide a little down the pile of cushions, he pulls back as far as I can. The view in the mirror in front of Timmy is obscene really. With his heavy eyelids and blushing face he’s spread utterly open for the whole room. Timmy’s tight little asshole is so spread it’s in danger of opening as he desperately tries to clench it against the pull of his hands. Now he has the position, Jill slides out from beneath Timmy and shoves some pillows under his neck to keep his head up.
He then sees Rita staring at him wide-eyed. Coming to her senses, Rita picks up a pencil and starts to sketch, but she’s barely glancing at the canvas as she internalizes the image of Timmy naked. Against all Timmy’s willpower, he feels his tiny dick starting to get hard. His little dick twitches as it slowly stiffens and points toward his face. An intense wave of humiliation washes over him as his dickie reaches its full hardness of three inches and stands straight out like a little arrow pointing to his chest. Rita’s biting her bottom lip as her hand moves blindly across the paper in front, never breaking eye contact with his body.
Jill glances over and sees the tiny boner and smiles. “Wow, this a real treat tonight,” she said to the artists all busily drawing away. “The trick here is to make sure you capture the erection in such a way that the observer will know it’s erect. With a penis this small, this can be a challenge.”
Timmy relaxes and slides back a little more, though never loosening his grip. The alcohol did its job in making him fully compliant. He feels in a haze as he lies there entirely on show, wondering what’ll happen next. The teen doesn’t recall how much time passed when Rita came over and told him to relax now. As the older woman pulls Timmy to his feet, he wobbles on shaky legs, his little dick still hard as steel. Rita pats him on the back and thanking him for his participation, but Timmy’s still too dazed to reply. He feels a strange sort of regret that the night seems to be over.
As the art-class begins packing and pulling on jackets to leave, Timmy stays standing by the podium. One-by-one they come up and thank him before turning to leave. By the time Jill arrives, his tiny dick has wilted back to its normal state, and the haze around his head begins to clear.
“You did great,” she said with a grin. “Go, get dressed, and I’ll take you home.”
This is an excerpt from the story The Friends of Timmy, buy it to read the whole amazing story.