Tattoo Idea
An SPH Experience by Undersized_Eggplant.
That was just the beginning. Over time, her teasing evolved into something she did in front of our friends, turning my inadequacy into her favorite form of entertainment.
It started innocently enough at parties. We’d be hanging out with our group—couples we’ve known forever—and if the conversation turned flirty or boozy, Melinda would lean in with a smirk. “You guys wouldn’t believe how lucky I am,” she’d say, sipping her wine. “My husband’s packing this adorable little package down there. It’s like sex with a mini vibrator.”
Everyone would laugh, and I’d feel my face flush hot, my dick twitching uselessly in my pants from the mix of shame and arousal.
One time, at a barbecue with our buddies Mike and Lisa, she went further. We were all tipsy by the pool, and she pulled me aside, whispering loud enough for them to hear, “Babe, show them how small it gets when you’re nervous.”
I froze, but she tugged at my swim trunks playfully.
“Come on, it’s pathetic anyway—might as well own it.”
Mike chuckled, and Lisa covered her mouth, eyes wide. I didn’t expose myself, but the humiliation burned, my nub shrinking even smaller under the attention. Melinda loved it, her eyes sparkling as she kissed my cheek. “See? It’s our little secret… or not so secret.”
Lately, though, she’s taken it to the next level. A couple of weeks ago, after a night where she teased me relentlessly during dinner with friends—describing how my ‘tiny prick’ barely tickles her pussy, making everyone roar—she pulled me into the bedroom and dropped her pants. Her ass is perfect, round and firm, the kind I love grabbing during sex.
But that night, she bent over, wiggling it in my face. “I want a tattoo right here,” she said, slapping her right cheek. “Something permanent to remind you—and everyone else—how inadequate that little worm between your legs is. Every time you fuck me from behind, you’ll see it mocking you.”
My heart raced, shame flooding me as my dick strained to its pathetic full length. I was rock hard from the degradation, but she just laughed. “Look at that sad excuse trying to get excited. Yeah, a tattoo’s perfect.”
We’ve been brainstorming ideas ever since, turning it into this twisted foreplay ritual. Her main concept is a three-inch ruler tattooed horizontally across her ass cheek, starting from the curve of her hip. At each inch mark, something humiliating to highlight my size—or lack of it.
We already have a couple in mind: at the zero mark, a cute little turtle, symbolizing how slow and useless my dick is, poking out of its shell like it’s hiding in shame. At one inch, a magnifying glass, because you’d need one just to spot anything worthwhile down there. For the two-inch mark, we’re thinking a sad little raincloud with a teardrop, representing the disappointment I bring every time I try to penetrate her—it’s just not enough to satisfy. And at three inches, the end of the ruler, maybe a tiny finish line flag, but crossed out with a big red X, because even at my ‘best,’ I never measure up.
But we’re open to more. Melinda wants words too, etched in playful script along the ruler. Like at zero: ‘Micropenis Zone.’ At one: ‘Barely There.’ At two: ‘Tease, No Please.’ At three: ‘Max Failure.’ Or images that amp up the SPH: a shrunken man running away at zero, a question mark at one implying ‘Is that it?’, a broken heart at two for the emotional letdown, and at three, a lock and key, like my dick’s caged forever because it’s too small to deserve freedom.
She even suggested adding arrows pointing inward, labeled ‘Small Dick Entrance Only,’ right above the ruler, so when she’s riding me reverse cowgirl, I stare at the reminder of my inadequacy slapping against her skin.
Other tattoo ideas we’ve tossed around go beyond the ruler. One is a simple outline of a big, veiny cock—say, eight inches long—wrapped around her other cheek, with my three-inch nub sketched tiny and flaccid next to it, labeled ‘Real vs. Reality’ or ‘Hubby’s Best Effort.’
Imagine her bending over at a party, flashing it accidentally-on-purpose, and our friends seeing the comparison etched forever. Or a barcode at the base of her spine, scanning to ‘3 inches of disappointment,’ with fine print saying ‘Not eligible for deep satisfaction.’ She loves the idea of a cartoonish chastity cage on her ass, tiny and locked, with a speech bubble: ‘Where your little clit belongs.’
For something more personal, we thought of her initials intertwined with a measuring tape that stops at three inches, unraveling into the words ‘Permanently Puny.’
Every discussion gets me so worked up. Last night, she stripped naked, posed in front of the mirror, and sketched the ruler on her skin with a marker. “What do you think, short stuff?” she teased, arching her back.
I knelt behind her, my face inches from her ass, inhaling her scent as my tongue flicked out instinctively. “It’s humiliating,” I admitted, voice thick with arousal, my dick leaking pre-cum without even being touched.
She reached back, flicking my nub. “Good. That’s the point. A forever mark of how your shrimp dick fails me.”
She made me jerk off right there, staring at the temporary design, and I came in seconds, spurting weakly onto the floor.
“Pathetic as always,” she said, but her smile was wicked, excited.
We’re booking the artist soon—probably go with the ruler base and add elements like a tiny acorn at two inches for ‘nutless wonder,’ or a snail at zero for slow starts. Whatever we choose, it’ll be my constant shame, a branded reminder every time I see her ass, knowing my small penis inspired it all. And honestly, in our twisted way, it turns us both on like nothing else.
The End.
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