Over the sprinklers and across the park.

Poncho leads the pack across the park, mushing hurriedly towards nothing nothing in particular, but dragging my underdressed self along all the same. A trip into the paved walkway is made for a moment, and my jogging shoes fling off when I trip on some uneven concrete.

Once we're back on the lawn, the cute devils bank an acute right turn straight into a battery of sprinklers, galavanting around the archways of cascading water, and thoroughly soaking me— inundating even my underwear with an unpleasant chill.

The water makes me lose any grip I had on their leashes, but by some miracle I hold on to them regardless. The three doggies slide me across the wet grass, with my socks having only the scantest modicum of traction; my arms soon slip free of the leashes, and I collide with a skate ramp that sends me flying.

After my topless body is hurled through the zephyr filled afternoon sunlight, my shorts' waistband gets caught on a tree branch; I'm too high up for my feet to reach terra-firma, leaving me stuck in a painful hanging wedgie. Wincing at the tight Lycra shorts digging between my bubbly butt cheeks, I holler at my escaping puppies, "Get back here you lazy Earthbound references!"

Though I kick and claw at my impaled waistband, I can't deny my predicament… I'm stuck.

Several joggers and yogis gather around where I'm stuck and whisper excitedly to each other, mouths stuck in wide, titillated beams. I'm imperiled and embarrassed as these women ogle the vivid outline of my penis through the super-tight shorts, but unlike when this usually happens they're not doing anything to me— not even catcalling.

Their arousal is tempered by concern, and one voluptuous, yoga-pantsed lady walks hither with a "you're hot, need a hand?" grimace on her face. But, before she reaches me, a painfully teasing woman's voice intercepts, cooing a lurid proposition at me.