The misadventures of Patrick Paley and his patented pocket particle accelerator

by BRK

 Soccer bro Rey made a big mistake letting his physics tutor, Patrick, use his weird science gizmo on him, but Patrick seems willing to make things right.

Added: Oct 2022 1,747 words 2,325 views 4.3 stars (3 votes) This story was commissioned via Patreon Vignette Party.


“Oh my god. Oh my god!”

“Dude, I’m so sorry! I must have totally misread the settings and misaligned the lateral—”

“Shut up! I don’t care about that shit. Just get me my fucking junk back! Now!”

“Sure, sure, Rey. On it. I just need to check the INI settings real quick. Hang tight, okay?”

“‘Hang tight,’ he says. I’m not hanging anything right now, you… you.. honestly, I’m so mad right now I can’t even insult you properly.”

That’s a first. Now, if I open—”

“Really? Snark? You’re giving me snark now? I let you use that broken pocket whatsis of yours to grow my dick so Janine would finally go out with me, and this is what I get?”

“It does work. I showed you it works.”

“Sure, on yourself! What good is that? Just what the world needs—a skinny science dweeb with a twelve-inch dick!”

“Better than a bad-tempered Ronaldo wannabe.”


“Nothing. All right, I think I’ve got the settings right to reverse the process. Ready?”

“This had better do it, Patrick, or you’ll wish you’d never even thought about academic tutoring.”

“Believe me, I already do. Okay, here goes!”

“Rrrrrr—fuck, that feels so fucking fucked.”

“Is it really painful?”

“Not painful. Pain I can deal with. It just feels fucking weird. Like my intestines are being squeezed through a cat’s anus.”

“Nice picture. It is twisting time and space to alter your basic physiology, so it’d be weird if you didn’t feel anything. Wanna take a peek in your shorts and tell us how we did?”

“Okay, but if—okay, dude, what the fuck?”

“What? What is it?”

“Not my dick, that’s what it is!”

“What?! Show me.”

“I’m not showing you my dick!”

“You just said it’s not your dick.”

“I know you just want to see my junk, queer boy.”

“That’s beside the point. And you saw mine, remember?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“You didn’t seem to mind that much when I grew it right in front of you.”

“You keep on thinking that.”

“Look, if I were your doctor, would you still refuse to show it to me? No.”

“You’re not my doctor, Patrick. You’re my fucking physics tutor. And the world’s biggest dweeb. Oh, yeah, and also, the guy who’s currently ruining my life.”

“Stop being dramatic. And right now, I am your doctor. I’m your dick doctor. Got it? And I need to see what the problem is if I’m going to fix this.”

“Fuck. I should just walk away now. The last thing I need is some junior scientist who thinks he’s the next Jimmy Neutron or whatever. What I need is an actual professional. This is so fucked!”

“Right, a professional. A professional, board-certified phallic transmogrification engineer. That’s definitely a thing. Just plug that into Google with your zip code and find the nearest one in your area.”


“—Which, if that were real, would be me. Now, drop your darn gym shorts and show me what we’re working with.”

“Fine. See? See what you did?”

“Hmm. Looks… okay to me. Better than nothing, right?”

“‘Looks okay’? ‘Looks okay’? Seriously?”

“It’s a little skinny, maybe.”

“Ya think? My fucking pinkie finger is thicker than this noodle. Spot any other anomalies, genius?”

“The tattoo’s a bit… unexpected, I admit.”

“Uh huh. Did you also notice anything else? Like, for example, that this thing is cut?”

“Cut? Where? Oh, you mean circumcised. Um, were you not, before?”

“Would I be yelling at you right now if I was?”

“Probably? Okay, okay, let go of my throat, geez!”

Fix this!

“All right! All right. Let me just hypothesize for a minute. There must be a crossed path in the temporal regression that caused a misappropriation—”


“Shut up for one second. And stop looming. You’re so intense right now.”

“Intense? Damn right I’m intense. You stole my dick!”

“Misappropriated. Remember? Okay. Okay. Everyone calm down.”

I am calm!!

“Right. Okay, let’s see if… oh, let’s try this. Ready?”

“Wait, what are you—aurrrrrrrrrr, that feels so weird!”

“You said that be… fore…”


“C’mon, it’s… bigger, if nothing else.”


“A lot bigger. And it’s still flaccid.”


“That’s gotta be the size of an Idaho potato, easy.”

“Uh huh. Uh huh. It’s also purple!

“Hmm, I’d say more of a vivid lavender. It’s uncut, at least.”

“It’s fucking purple! Who the fuck has a purple dick?!”

“That’s… actually a relevant question, now that you put it that way. I’m guessing that maybe the crossed wires we’re getting in the reverse biotrack leading to your present physiological configuration must be somehow extradimensional in—”

“Listen to me.”

“Ow, that’s—wow, your grip is really strong. You must give great shoulder-rubs—”

“Listen. To. Me.”

“Okay, okay! Listening. Ready to receive aural input. Go ahead.”

“I want my junk back.”


“Not Pinkie Noodledick’s junk. Not Beezlebop XJ-4 from the Purple Universe’s junk.”


My junk. Exactly the way it was. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Now press undo or whatever and make it happen.”

“Sure, but, Rey, you know this isn’t exactly Microsoft Word or anything, right? I didn’t develop the pocket accelerator’s software interface with an actual undo—ow, ow, okay. Geez, with the squeezing and the looming. Muscles are for posing not hosing, that’s what my dad always says.”


“Never mind. Just… give me two seconds.”

“Fix it. You have two seconds.”

“Wow, it’s like he’s never heard of figurative speech. All right, if I… oh, wait, this will work. Hang on… hang on… I’m going to try—”

“‘Try’? You’re going to ‘try’? Fuck, do you even know what the fuck you’re doing?”

“Mostly. Ninety-four percent. Of course, the infinite nature of the multiverse leaves open the possibility of exponentially infinite unknowns, but—”

“For Christ’s sake.”

“Look. I have a possible solution. It involves relaying the biotrack along a parallel shunt, creating a redundant reinforcement, but I think that should—”

“Fine. Don’t explain it, do it!”

“Okay, sheesh. Here goes.”

“Errraaaauuughhhh—fuck. Fuck.”

“Oh. Well that can happen.”

“Patrick, you better text your parents goodbye because I’m about to make you wish you’d never been born!”

“Well… are we sure the purple is a deal breaker?”

“Oh, let’s list the deal-breakers we’ve got going here, shall we? First: it’s not mine, despite my specifically asking for mine back. Second: it’s still purple. Not a good look. Third: most guys have only one of these. You are aware of that, right?”

“Must have been the redundant shunt on the biotrack creating a retrodeveloped dual transmutation…”

“Hmm, yeah, must have been.”

“Still uncut, at least, right?”

“Damn it, Patrick, can you fix this or not?”

“Um… no.”


“Rey, I can’t. I would but I can’t. Honest. I didn’t anticipate anything like this. I need to do more research on this just to figure out why it worked differently for me than it did for you.”

“Research. Brilliant. You’re going to go off and research, while I have to walk around with two purple dicks the size of a couple of yams, plus these orange-sized balls that came with them. I’m gonna look like I’m smuggling an armadillo everywhere I go for the rest of my life. Does that seem right to you? Does that bother you even a little?”

“We’ll get it back. Your dick is still out there, trust me. Probably some big purple guy has it and is just as distressed as you are.”

“My heart bleeds for purple guy.”

“I—you know, I think I can fix the color, maybe? The cosmetic subroutines are more straightforward. Is that better?”

“No! Don’t you dare touch that—grrraaauuurr, that feeling sucks balls every time.”

“See! Now they match the rest of you.”

“Congratulations. You managed to rectify one of the many, many mistakes you made. Bra… vo.”

“I never knew you were this sarcastic. It’s like we’re meeting for the first time.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Um—you know, Rey?”


“Well—if you’re going to have these for a while, we should probably check and see if they’re… working, and everything.”

“What, you want me to piss on you? Because that can be arranged.”

“No! No, ew, ew, ew. No. I was just thinking, though, that I could help you evaluate their… um, alternate configurations…”

“Configur—oh, I see. Geeky McCocksucker wants to help me ‘test my equipment,’ huh?”

“You could put in that way. Unless you want to call Janine.”

“Are you nuts? I can’t let her see me like this. She’d run away screaming! And then she’d tell everyone I’m a freak.”

“And I won’t do either of those things. C’mon, I can tell you kind of want to.”

“Stop looking! Any guy’ll get a little chubbed talking about getting blown.”

“Sure. Listen, Rey, why don’t you think of it as… me needing experimental data. The better I know your new junk—”

“It’s not ‘my new junk’! Just—shut up, okay? And—”


“Fuck. Lock the fucking door, will you? Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“At last, a plan we can agree on.”


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