Chapter 1

Tom Folsom wearily sat down on the edge of his bed. His lack of energy wasn’t a physical thing, since 18 year olds are rarely utterly and truly fatigued unless they are ill. No, his problem was mental and he himself was the sole cause.

Of course he would never conceive of admitting to fault and so blamed everything on his mother. She was having one of her ‘cleaning manias’ and had insisted he finally clean up his own room. The words used had been somewhat different, she referring in exasperated terms to ‘pigsties’, ‘animal farms’ and other colorful descriptions of bucolic and rural eyesores.

Tom had replied with conceptions of ‘privacy’, ‘my personal space’ and other enlightened late 20th century notions and concepts. Neither considered conceding an inch and so war had been declared. Ultimatums were issued, insults flew through the air, feelings were hurt and finally the weaker party admitted defeat.

Not without a battle of words though. Such idealized notions as ‘I know where everything is’, and ‘this is my personal system of keeping things in their place’, being ultimately proven wrong when put to the test. Tom couldn’t find a clean pair of socks among the mess of his room to save his life and after being warned to expect a ‘maximum grounding’ he relented and grudgingly and very ungracefully stormed off to clean up his room.

Now, just 45 minutes after starting what he thought to be a task worthy of comparison to that of poor Sisyphus, his room appeared to be in a state approaching neatness and order. Tom thought that it proved his point : namely that if his room could be cleaned up in three quarters of an hour it wasn’t all that messy to begin with. He never looked at the matter from his mother’s viewpoint : namely that it wasn’t all that much of a job in the first place and should therefore not be left undone.

Whatever the argumentation Tom was tired of the business already and considered the cleaning up finished as far as he was concerned. His mother had made him lug up a vacuum cleaner to his room to be used in the final stage, but he ignored the machine and was not even considering it’s use. Not only was the job done and finished in his opinion, he had also discovered several previously forgotten items that were much more interesting.

He couldn’t figure out how he had ever forgotten about the magazines he was now looking at : Wet Dreems, Fantasy Lovers and several others of a like subject matter. They were full of wonderfully revealing pictures of ladies and gentlemen engaged in all manners of amorous, erotic and downright earthy lip-smacking sexual activity. The stuff of teenage fantasy : big boobs, spread legs, hard pricks, cock sucking and pussy licking guys and gals having the time of their life. At least that was Tom’s appreciation of the scenes he was raptly and wistfully gazing at with all his undivided attention.

He browsed through the magazines for quite some time, now losing himself in a torrid fantasy inspired by a particular display then switching over to yet another, each just as gratifyingly lustful as the previous. The magazines also contained a multitude of advertisements for all manner of sexual services, advice and devices, some of which he could not truthfully conceive the function of (yet).

One ad was quite clear in it’s message though :

Acme Deluxe PENIS ENLARGER !

Guaranteed to lengthen and strengthen your organ

to proportions gals will go crazy over !’ Accompanying the text was a drawing of a device that was to placed over the male organ. It looked like a large plastic cylinder, open at one end, connected via a plastic tube to a squeeze bulb. The ad stated that diligent and regular ‘exercise’ with this wondrous apparatus would result in an enlargement of the male sexual member.

Now Tom may have been only 16 and technically still a virgin, but he was not totally inexperienced in sexual matters, and he was not all that gullible. Even he knew that such devices were no more than masturbation aids, the advertising hype notwithstanding. Still that did not lessen his interest one bit. In fact looking at the drawings of the ‘enlarger’ in action only whetted his appetite and imagination. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to use such a contraption but couldn’t come up with any clear cut idea.

Not that he needed it for its advertised purpose ! Good heavens no. While not pretending to hold any school records in the penis size department, he knew from observation, comparison and comment (from both sexes) that he held an enviable position among the top half of the male population. His prick was of a pleasurably sufficient girth and size to be favorably commented on while at the same time not being considered grotesquely oversized. If only he could find someone willing to let him use it as nature had intended ! But that was a problem of an altogether different order.

Tom looked closely at the drawings of the machine in action. Even if the thing gave no permanent results it still looked fun to use.

Without consciously thinking about it, Tom unzipped his trousers and pulled out his prick. Looking at the drawings again, he stroked and squeezed himself in various fashions, overhand, underhand, whole-handedly, double-handedly, on the shaft, and in several other ways too ingenious to describe with mere words, but nothing approximated the sensations he imagined the penis enlarger to provide.

He was just about to turn the page when his eye fell on the vacuum cleaner. Mechanical inspiration blossomed in a wink and Tom envisioned a much more pleasurable application for that everyday household appliance. The thing had a shaft just like the penis enlarger, albeit somewhat unnecessarily longer, and a pump as well, though one mechanically powered. Why spend $ 39.95 + $ 2.75 postage and handling (plus sales tax where required) when just about every home had one of the things in a slightly different form and shape ?

Hardly thinking the matter through, Tom stood up, plugged in the machine, dropped his pants, pulled down his briefs and switched on the power. He removed the long metal attachment and brush from the machine and was left with the corrugated tube and end piece. His prick wasn’t quite fully erect yet as the vacuum cleaner whizzed into action. Using his right hand to steady his organ, he lowered the hose over his penis. Still several inches away from his glans, he could feel the current of air sucking around his shaft, seemingly eager to draw his member into its inviting depths.

Suddenly the hose jerked in his hand, shot forward and literally tried to suck his male member from his body. With a will of its own, it attached itself to his penis, pressing inwards with such force that it felt like the tube was trying to simultaneously bore its way into his abdomen via the groin and wrench his poor penis out by the roots. To say it hurt would have been the understatement of the year. Poor Tom yelped in surprise and pain as the vacuum cleaner hose was yanked from his hands. It flayed about in the air before him, twisting and turning like a snake.

He tried to grab it, but his pants being pulled down to around his ankles, he only succeeded in losing his balance and fell down backwards, all of which only complicated his predicament. The appliance merrily sucked away at Tom’s prick, which to compound matters even more, was now so inappropriately erect and stiff that it had become firmly stuck in the hosing. It would have been difficult to dislodge even without incalculating the vacuum factor.

Things might have ended in a less dramatic fashion if Tom’s mother hadn’t been of an essentially goodhearted nature. Gratified that she had (finally) won a test of wills with her son, she watched him storm off to clean his room and surmised from the ensuing noises that he was finally getting on with the business.

After a decent amount of time had passed she too calmed down and decided that a little positive encouragement would go a long ways in promoting mutual understanding. She prepared a cup of tea and cookies for her son and was just in the hallway outside his room when she heard the vacuum cleaner whiz into action.

Well that was certainly a pleasant surprise ! She had insisted on Tom taking it up to his room with him, but hadn’t really expected him to use it. She wasn’t going to be that unrealistic.

Pleased with what she thought to be her son’s diligent cleaning, Mrs. Folsom opened the door and stood open-mouthed in utter surprise and shock at what she saw. Tom was on the floor, writhing and moaning with the vacuum cleaner hose on his thing. He was unheedful of her presence which enraged her even more.

It was totally unbelievable ! She was shocked beyond words and immediately dropped the tray of tea and cookies, shrieked an unprintable obscenity and didn’t know what to do first : run screaming down the hallway or whollop her son’s backside black and blue.

Finally, after staring aghast at the scene before her for what seemed like hours (but which was of course only seconds), she resolutely strode over to the vacuum cleaner, heroically resisted the urge to kick Tom in the butt on the way and angrily pulled the plug out from the wall socket.

Seemingly disappointed that the fun was over, the vacuum cleaner ceased its diligent vacuuming, revved down and let out a soft, but audible sigh as it loosened its grip on Tom’s prick.

Tom, relieved that the excruciating pressure on his groin was finally over, gratefully opened his eyes and received the shock of his life when he saw his mother standing next to the now silent vacuum cleaner.

"This is it," he thought, "I’m done for."

They both stood looking at each other. Tom’s mother was the first to open her mouth : "My God ! How could you ever do something like that !!" she cried, and bursting into tears she ran out of the room.

Tom was on the verge of tears himself and just before succumbing to the inevitable wave of humiliation and remorse he remained sufficiently lucid to know that there was going to be hell to pay for this.

Chapter 2

As it turned out, there was hell to pay for the incident, with interest due even , but it wasn’t Tom who was ultimately presented with the bill. Family dynamics are not necessarily restricted to following the dictates of reason and logic and this instance could have served as a textbook example.

George Folsom drove home from work that Wednesday in a very good mood and was planning on having a nice home-cooked dinner, then a quiet evening at home with his family and after lights out, an old fashioned game of hide-the-salami with his good looking Misses.

But instead of coming home to the loving arms of his wife and the respectful adoration of his adolescent son, he came home to find his house in a state of emotional uproar. He found Sara in the kitchen, alternatively either bawling her eyes out or else on the verge of hysterical apoplexy, ranting and raving something or other about what ‘his son’ had gone and done.

He wasn’t too clear on the details, but apparently it had something to do with Tom cleaning his room, using the vacuum cleaner and doing something ‘dirty’ with magazines.

There were too many possible permutations for George to fully comprehend what was going on, so after comforting his wife as best as he could (which wasn’t very much admittedly), he went upstairs to Tom’s room.

On the way he tried to figure out what could have possibly happened, but aside from Tom using pages from a magazine to make confetti or something, he couldn’t conceive of anything. He was that sort of guy.

He gently knocked on Tom’s door.

"Go away and leave me alone !" was the response he got after the fifth knock.

"Son, it’s your father. Will you please open the door so I can talk to you ?"

"No, just leave me alone."

"Will you please tell me what’s going on ?" he tried again.

"No, just leave me alone. I don’t want to see anyone ever again."

And so it went for a dozen or so exchanges, just like trench warfare on the Western Front, neither side gaining or conceding an inch of (psychological) territory. This was the type of situation that thoroughly exasperated George, so he finally just gave up and went back down to the kitchen, hoping to get a sensible explanation from his wife.

It took another half hour for her to calm down and compose herself sufficiently to give him a more or less coherent description of the whole mess.

Then in bits and pieces she told what had happened. George patiently, not unlike a well routined and cunning detective he thought, went over certain points, asking questions, putting everything into a coherent context and finally getting the drift of what had happened. Dragging the story out of her seemed to make his wife madder and madder though, so that by the time he figured out what had happened she was just about boiling over with anger.

As a final reproach Sara went to the counter behind her and returned with several porn mags which she accusingly threw down on the table in front of George.

"This is the filth your son was jerking off too while he had that hose around his thing !"

Oh my, George thought, recognizing the magazines from his private stash in the garage that had mysteriously kept getting smaller. He hadn’t thought Tom would find them, but apparently he had.

"What do you say to that !"

That was a very good question in George’s opinion. What does one say to that ? Should one even say anything to begin with ?

"What do you want me to say Sara ? Tom’s 18 for goodness sake. He’s suffering from raging hormones just like they all do. Kids jerk off from time to time you know."

"Not like that ! He was using a vacuum cleaner for Gods sake. And reading this garbage to boot ! What do you think of that ?"

Actually George was rather surprised at the whole thing. He had certainly never used a vacuum cleaner or even thought of doing so when he was young and he sort of admired his son’s sense of (reckless) daring. He tried to joke his way out of it.

"Gee, we never had an electric vacuum cleaner in our family when I was young. I wouldn’t really know darling." Of course that was a very tall story at least if not a downright lie.

"Don’t you give me your Depression Blues sob story now, George Folsom. And what do you think of those magazines ?!"

In all honesty, they did seem a tad childish now that was looking at them with his wife present, but in other circumstances they served a discernable and pleasurable function.

"Oh, you know how kids are, Sara. Flash them a picture of some pussy and they can’t resist the urge."

"I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You actually approve of this trash ?"

"No, I don’t ‘approve’ of it per se."

"And where do you think he got this junk anyway ?"

Oh oh, that was dangerous territory. "God Sara, how do kids get hold of stuff like that ? From friends, I suppose, or maybe they buy it themselves. Anyway, it’s no big deal."

"Oh no ? And don’t think I haven’t figured out what your son was doing. Look at this." She angrily opened a magazine to the ad for the Penis Enlarger and pushed it under his face. "Look at this disgusting ad : he was trying to make his thing bigger."

He played the part expected of him, studied the ad and made disapproving noises. He wondered why his wife couldn’t bring herself to say the word ‘penis’ or ‘prick’. Why did she keep referring to Tom’s ‘thing’ ?

"C’mon Sara, this is just a sex toy. It doesn’t really enlarge your penis."

"I wouldn’t know since I don’t have one ! And how do you know ?"

"Oh, you know, I must have read about it somewhere or other." He tried.

She glared at him, saying nothing.

"Or maybe one of the guys at the office mentioned something about these things at one time or another."

More silence.

"Or maybe it was during my time in the Service, I don’t remember."

Somehow, without George being entirely clear on the matter it was at this point that he landed in the dog house. He hadn’t done anything wrong that he was aware of except trying to be calm and reasonable about everything. He was trying to stand up for his son and look at this thing from both standpoints. But it had happened before and here he was in the same predicament. His wife was pissed off at his son and ended up venting her frustration on him.

"George Folsom, I want you to do something about this and I want you to do it now !"

And with that she stood up and left George with the forlorn and ragged copies of Wet Dreems, Fantasy Lovers and the other mags.

Chapter 3

For some reason or other George felt like going up to Tom’s room and yelling "Well here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten me into !" But there was something about the situation that didn’t warrant him doing an Oliver Hardy impersonation, so he just left it at that.

He waited in the kitchen for an hour or so in the forlorn hope that somehow, someway or other dinner was going to be served. He had no such luck and debated either fixing something himself or calling a take out. In the end he decided that he had no desire whatsoever to prepare anything and so phoned for some Fried Chicken with all the trimmings.

After the delivery, he sat munching on a chicken wing when he noticed his son standing at the door. He smiled ruefully.

"Well, if it isn’t Jumping Jack Flash. Why don’t you have a seat and join your Old Man ?"

Tom didn’t smile back.

"Look, Kiddo, it’s your Mom who’s pissed off, not me. Come on over and give me your side of the story."

"I’m hungry."

"So am I. Come on over and have some of this. There’s enough."

Tom limped over and took some of the fried chicken. "I’m going back to my room."

"Oh no you don’t." George said. "Just sit down."

Tom sat down and started eating in silence.

Finally, after finishing the food George managed to get a conversation of sorts going.

"Are you OK son ?"

"No, I’m not OK."

"Hurt yourself ?"

"Not really……. A little I guess."

"Where ?"

"None of your business."

"C’mon Tom. If you’re hurt I have to know about it."

"Why ?"

"So I can get you treated."

"As if you care."

"I do."

"Sure."

And so it went.

George finally managed to get Tom’s account out of him. That it differed slightly from his wife’s version didn’t surprise him. He was concerned that for all the brouhaha going on about Tom’s ‘disgusting behavior’ the boy could have actually hurt himself. He was sure that his son would never allow him to examine the bruised parts, so a doctor’s visit was going to be on the agenda.

That is when George figured out a stratagem to diffuse the situation and get his household back on a normal footing.

He regularly met with Karen Gracier who took care of his firm’s PR and Advertising. They developed something more than a mere professional relationship without it turning into anything overtly amorous. Aside from business they confided small personal items to each other, discussed all sorts of matters ranging from art and literature to movies, vacation plans and what not. They also shamelessly flirted around without it ever coming to anything.

Why just a few weeks ago, Karen told George about the trouble she had had with her step-daughter Kelly and her nephew Alex during the summer vacation. Both had become enamored of each other and fearing a potentially embarrassing libidinous situation, Karen had bundled them both off to a doctor she was apparently well acquainted with. This doctor had a private clinic and was in Karen’s rapturous opinion, eminently qualified to handle all types of sexual complaints, be they of a pure gynecological or of a psychological nature. The doctor’s name was Sigrid Kitzsler, she had been trained in Europe and was of course tremendously successful in her field.

The teenagers were sent to the clinic for a general check-up and some very specific lecturing on the dangers of unbridled teenage erotic adventurism. Karen hinted at doctor Kitzsler’s unorthodox methods and treatments without being specific, but in any case George got a thrill just hearing about it and imaging what had gone on. Both of the children had come back with an entirely different attitude and conducted themselves in an exemplary fashion for the rest of the summer.

Karen Gracier told George that if he was ever in need of the doctor’s services to give her a call and she would set up an appointment for him.

That was exactly what he planned to do.

Chapter 4

Karen arranged an appointment for Tom on Saturday morning for which George was eternally grateful. The next two days were strained to say the least, but Tom wisely kept himself busy with schoolwork and George stayed late at the office, not only catching up on his work, but earning himself some Brownie Points as well.

Dinners at home were not exactly joyous affairs either, but by Friday evening Sara was at least back on speaking terms with her husband.

"Do you really think seeing this doctor will do any good ?" she asked.

"I hope so, dear. A colleague of mine heartily recommended her."

"Was his kid fooling around with vacuum cleaners too ?"

"Ha ha, dear. That’s a good one. No, I don’t think we have an epidemic on our hands. I believe they were experiencing some trouble with their daughter and nephew." George explained, sidestepping the issue of the gender of ‘his colleague’.

"If t were up to me, I would wash his mouth out with soap."

And his backside as well, George thought, not caring to bring up the issue of parental correction as experienced by his wife as a child. Her family had been big believers in the corrective use of enemas as a punishment tool.

"Well, those days are past. We have to move along with our times." George was beginning to talk in clichés and homilies.

"More’s the pity."

At any rate, bright and early Saturday morning, Tom and George presented themselves at the Kitzsler Clinic. They were the first patients scheduled for the day and were allowed straight in.

Doctor Sigrid Kitzsler was seated behind her desk. She stood up, shook hands, and asked them to take a seat.

"I’d like to thank you Doctor, for seeing us on such short notice." George began.

"Quite all right, Karen Gracier said it was something of an emergency ?"

"Yes, you could call it that, I suppose."

"Can you tell me what the problem is ?"

"Uh, well…my son Tom here," George said motioning towards the very uncomfortable and embarrassed boy, "had a sort of a…accident I guess while he was fooling around with a…a vacuum cleaner a few days ago. You see my wife found him and was extremely upset."

"Did you call the emergency services ?" Doctor Kitzsler asked.

"No, it was ah…a different kind of accident…actually."

"Yes ?"

"I don’t know how to say this …in a polite fashion. But he was using the vacuum cleaner to ah…gratify himself and ah…my wife sort of surprised him. I guess." Why did this have to be so difficult ? "We were hoping you might give Tom a lecture or something like you did Ms. Gracier’s kids."

While George Folsom was managing to get his explanation done, Doctor Kitzsler couldn’t help but be amused. She didn’t let it show of course and kept a suitably passive face, but inwardly she was more than amused, she was positively delighted. Another adolescent caught playing with himself and Mommy and Daddy are outraged, shocked and at a loss at what to do. This was something that she was going to look into quite diligently, though not for the reasons Mommy and Daddy wanted. It certainly sounded intriguing : she could well imagine what a healthy little male sex maniac would use a vacuum cleaner for, but this was something she was going to have some fun with.

She put on her best professional demeanor. "I think I understand what you are getting at Mr. Folsom. Your son was using the vacuum cleaner to masturbate. Correct ?"

Both Tom and George winced. That ugly word.

"I guess you could put it that way."

"It’s usually the best way to put it. Now, if you don’t mind Mr. Folsom I think it also best that you step outside while I occupy myself with Tom." Doctor Kitzsler said standing up and moving to open the door.

"Oh, yes…certainly. I understand." George was relieved that the rest of the appointment would be conducted without him. Before leaving though he handed the Doctor a large brown envelope. "This is something my wife wanted to be sure you got. It’s what Tom was using when he…"

"Yes, I understand. Thank you." She said while taking the envelope and ushering George out the door.

Back at her desk she opened the envelope and took out the magazines that Sara had carefully marked. There was an unmistakable bookmark on the page featuring the Penis Enlarger Ad. A smile played on her lips and she shook her head in contained merriment.

"Well young man. It seems as if you’ve certainly caused quite an uproar in your family."

"Yes ma’am, I suppose so."

"Would you care to give me your version ?"

Actually he didn’t, but there was no way out that Tom could see so he told her what had happened. Doctor Kitzsler listened attentively, asking a question now and then to clarify a point or another, but overall she let Tom tell the story in his own manner.

Doctor Kitzsler did her best to keep a straight face. Normally she preferred the female sex by far and could be quite disdainful of males at times, but for some reason she sympathized with the boy.

"I see. Quite an embarrassing situation I would say. But we’ll come back to that later. On another note : did you hurt yourself in any way ? I noticed you limping a bit when you came in."

"Sort of, but I think it will be OK." Tom tried.

"Well, I’ll be the judge of that young man." Doctor Kitzsler stood up and motioned for Tom to follow her. "We’ll start by taking a closer look and assessing what damage may have been done to your vital parts. Just come along with me and we’ll take care of everything."