SPH Experiences: The Checkout Guy

By Matty88.

 

 

It was one of those dead afternoons at the grocery store, the kind where the fluorescent lights buzzed louder than the customers shuffling through. My register sat smack next to the produce fridges, those massive glass doors humming away, blasting out waves of arctic air that cut right through my uniform pants. The AC was always jacked up in this place, like management thought we were all penguins or something. My little cock had been shriveled since clocking in, tucked away tight against my balls from the chill, no chance of even a hint of a bulge showing. Not that it ever did much anyway—my dick was small on a good day, but in this freezer of a store, it was basically invisible, a pathetic nub lost in the fabric.

I leaned on the counter, scanning the occasional bag of apples or loaf of bread, when Sarah from the next register over struck up some chatter. She was cute, in her early twenties, with a ponytail swinging as she worked, her vest hugging her curves so the cold was bearable. We’d bantered before—nothing deep, just killing time. Today, though, with no line in sight, I rubbed my arms and muttered, “Man, it’s freezing in here today. Feels like my nuts are gonna freeze off.”

She paused mid-scan, her eyes flicking to me with a mischievous glint, and let out this light giggle that echoed a bit in the empty lane. “Oh, you’re cold,” she said, her voice teasing, drawing out the words like she was in on some secret. Then, leaning closer over the divider, she dropped it: “Is that why you never have a bulge?”

My stomach dropped. Heat rushed to my face instantly, cheeks burning under the store lights as her words hung there, blunt and exposing. I stood frozen, hands gripping the scanner as it could hide me, but there was no escaping it—my pants lay flat, no outline, no swell, just smooth denim screaming the truth about my tiny prick. The cold had it shrunken to nothing, but even without it, my cock never filled out like the other guys’. It was small, soft, insignificant, and now she’d called it out, right there at work.

Before I could stammer a response, giggles erupted from the other registers. Jess from lane three and Mia from five both overheard, their heads popping up like meerkats. Jess snorted, covering her mouth but failing to stifle the laugh. “Oh my god, Sarah, savage!”

Mia chimed in, her voice bubbling with amusement. “Yeah, I’ve wondered about that too—no wonder his apron always looks so… empty.”

They cracked up together, the sound carrying over the quiet store, a few customers glancing our way but pretending not to notice. My face must’ve been beet red, the flush spreading down my neck, because I could feel the heat pulsing, my heart hammering as humiliation sank in deep.

Sarah noticed, her giggles softening as she reached over the counter, patting my arm in this half-comforting, half-mocking way. “Aw, come on, don’t look so embarrassed,” she said, still chuckling, her eyes sparkling with that mix of sympathy and delight. “It’s kinda cute, you know? Like, own it! The cold’s just making it hide even more.”

But her words only twisted the knife—cute? My minuscule dick, balled up tiny from the AC, was reduced to a joke among the girls. I shifted my weight, feeling the emptiness in my crotch, no throb of arousal even stirring it to life under their teasing gazes. If anything, the shame made it retreat further, pressing flat against my thigh like it was trying to vanish.

The laughter died down as a customer approached my lane, but the damage was done. Sarah shot me a wink while ringing up her next order, whispering, “Seriously, though, it’s fine—adds character.”

Fine? My small cock, exposed in its absence, had turned a slow shift into my personal hell of vulnerability. Yet, as the redness faded and I forced a smile, scanning items with shaky hands, there was this weird thrill buzzing under the embarrassment. They’d seen through me—literally—no bulge, no secret, just the truth of my pathetic little package outed in the chill of the store. And damn if it didn’t make the rest of the day feel charged, every brush of fabric against my shrunken dick a reminder of how thoroughly I’d been called out.

 

The End.

 

 

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