True Stories: Microprocessor’s

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These stories are the artistic expression of the authors who wrote them. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this post, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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by Chartownr

I got a job at a microprocessor plant, that’s why I moved to Washington. I arrived in hip-hugger jeans and form-fitting white undershirt I put on an Oxford shirt in my car. I figured that jeans are jeans, how often do you stare and inspect somebody’s jeans. Plus I had no time to change anyway and I couldn’t be late for my first day!

I entered the building to a reception area. I introduced myself to the receptionist, “Hi, I’m Casey. This is my first day, they said I need to report to installation.”

“Hello, my name is Stacey. Installation is through there.” She motioned towards two swinging doors that read ‘Decontamination’. “It’s company policy that everyone decontaminate and de-static due to the sensitive electronics we work with. You will be required to shower, and put on a static free jump suit”

I said, “OK,” and walked toward the doors.

“Good luck, and nice jeans,” Stacey quietly and quickly blurted to me as I reached the doors.

There were two men already undressing and putting their street clothes in lockers. One man had black hair peppered with grey hairs, he was tall but not quite six feet, with a muscular frame. He carried himself with honour and respect, surely he was a higher up. He turned his head over to me as he noticed the door swing open. “Oh, hey, you must be the new guy?” he said, and continued unbuttoning and removing his slacks.

No longer concerned about me, he stood tall after wrestling to get his slacks past his feet. As he stood and flung his slacks into his locker, his formidable cock was revealed without the slightest attempt to conceal his modesty. I responded to his question, “Ah yeah, I’m the new guy. My name is Casey. I’ll be working in installations.”

“That’s great, now hurry up. It’s almost our turn in the decon chamber,” he said.

Feeling nervous at the prospect of having to expose my meagre member in front of a respectably endowed man, I began to undress. I do not believe I could fit my hand around the circumference of this man’s cock! His dick was veiny and had a large artery running from the base along the upper right side to the cusp of his bell end. This vein may well have been nearly the width of my own penis. My face flushed and my brain rushed as I noted these comparisons.

A buzzer screeched. My gaze lingered perhaps a moment too long and the buzzer made it even more apparent. “Come on now. It’ll be another 5 minutes before we get through the decon shower. You’ll have plenty of time to take notes once we’re sudding up.”

My face drained of blood. I was mortified that I got caught peeking, but I had to disrobe immediately. I threw my pants and boxers to the floor in a single smooth motion, and peeled my shirt off. I shoved my clothes into a random open locker and just made it in to the chamber as the door slid automatically shut. My penis was in a semi-engorged yet still flaccid state as the water fell in a tight four feet by four feet pattern, from holes in the ceiling. Needless to say in order for the three of us to shower we had to stand close together. The big dick man said, “My name is Ben, I’m the installation supervisor and quality control inspector. This man to the left of me is Jesse.”

Ben the peppered hair God reached for a hand shake and grasped my hand tightly. Jesse had been keeping to himself until now and he squared himself with me, fully exposing his lean muscles and impressive cock with a small patch of blonde pubes in a tight nit formation just above his shaft. In my younger years I spent plenty of time showering with more endowed men than myself, but our modesty insisted and our facility allowed us to face the wall and minimise our exposure. But here in this decon shower, I’m standing face to face with two men that if either one of them were to have an erection they would most surely have it pressing against me.

We finished introducing ourselves, and both men simultaneously took a second take at my minuscule penis. The two shared a silent almost unobservable moment that confirmed that I did indeed possess a penis smaller than a thumb, smaller than a bic lighter. To these two hung, dick slingers the notion that a penis could even be this small seemed unfathomable. But here I was in all my glory, dwarfed by the two men that are not only my co-workers but my superiors in my department.

Opposite the side we entered a door slid open. Waiting on hooks were three hooded Tyvek jump suits with built-in feet. My suit was not ill-fitting, but was certainly snug. The dimensions were such that the rear seem line clung between my but cheeks, leading to the effect that both lifted and separated my butt cheeks. The form-fitting fabric pressing on my penis caused my member to engorged with blood, but remained not fully erect and laid flat on my skin. The way the white Tyvek stretched and moulded over my penis gave the appearance that I had a tube of chapstick in my crotch.

Ben and Jesse were fully aware of my situation, “Hey Casey, you trying to smuggle some chapstick into work?”

Jesse and Ben shared a smirk at his comment that they seemed to share all day. Four o’clock came quick, but not quick enough. We all headed to the locker to get our street clothes back on. As I was slipping back into my jeans this guy Jim said, “You sure don’t need much room in your jeans. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a bic lighter on you, perhaps a bic mini?”

I awkwardly mustered up an embarrassed chuckle, shook my head, and grunted, “Not one I can lend you.”

I cinched my belt and got the fuck out of there. I worked at that place for about a year, and worked out quickly when to arrive so I could go through the decon shower alone. It was only upon entering the work area we had to shower etc., so shared nudity wasn’t a problem at home-time. But Ben and Jesse continued to call me ‘Bic’ the whole time. Funnily they never told anyone, as some people asked why they called me that, and they just laughed it off. I think after they seen the quality of my work they respected me enough to keep my secret.

When I got another position at a different plant I left as soon as I could, as the new plant used a different decontamination protocol that didn’t involve having to get undressed and shower with other people.

The End.


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