Drum Squad Initiation - Exposed

At one of the schools I attended during junior high, the counselor enrolled me in band class. I have no musical talent whatsoever. Everybody else could at least keep time with a pair of rhythm sticks, but I was useless.

I was assigned to the percussion section. Three cocky guys already covered all those instruments with typical eighth-grade assurance. Those boys quickly realized that I was completely non-musical. I became the butt of sarcasm and practical jokes.

Several weeks went by. One of the dudes leaned toward me during practice and said they were sorry for making fun of me and were ready to "initiate" me into the percussion section. The other two nodded their heads but seemed on the verge of uncontrolled laughter.

I was told to turn away from the drum section until they were ready for me. After a minute one of them said "OK!"

My eyeballs must have bulged out. Right there in front of me, hiding behind all the drums and cymbals and music stands, stood the three percussionists with their hands wiggling long, thin erections. I could feel red embarrassment climbing from my neck to the top of my head. What was I supposed to do? Laugh? Compliment them? Pull out my own scruffy little peter and give it a wank? This was not an initiation, it was some kind of test.

The whole thing lasted less than ten seconds. Before I could get another look, the other guys were already whirling around to face away from me. They were obviously zipping up their flies after their little show. I had barely gotten a moment's look. Was it over? Had I passed? Was I now "one of the guys?" Did I have to reciprocate in some way? I had no idea what to do. How do you react to something like that in private, much less in a room full of people?

Immediately after closing their zippers they turned back toward me, laughing their asses off. Each boy held a drumstick in one hand. I had not seen their penises at all. In that split second, what I had seen was drumsticks protruding out of their zippers. Hands innocently stroking wooden drumsticks! My sub-conscious had turned the sticks into erect stiffies (After all, I was just 13 and highly aware of dicks. Surely these young assholes didn't know what I did to myself in secret, did they?

They pointed at me, roaring with laughter. One flashed me an empty circle of moving fingers. "Did you expect something else?" Another one asked if I had a dirty mind. Somebody said, "You should have seen your face!"

I gradually became able to strike a triangle on beat whenever the teacher pointed at me. I think I've lost even that small musical skill now, but I've kept the "initiation" in my head all these years.

TC