The Catfish
A Gay Fictional SPH Story by TeeneeCat22.
His actual dick? Maybe three inches on a good day—barely a nub when soft.
He knew it was wrong. He knew the inevitable confrontation would come. But that was exactly what he wanted.
—
The apartment door swung open, and Kyle’s breath caught. Luke stood there—six-foot-two, chiseled jaw, pecs straining against a tight white tank top. He looked exactly like his photos.
“Hey, come on in.” Luke’s eyes raked over Kyle’s body appreciatively. “You’re even hotter in person.”
Kyle stepped inside, nerves buzzing under his skin. “You too.”
They made small talk for maybe three minutes before Luke’s hand was on his thigh, then his belt.
“I’ve been thinking about that huge cock all day,” Luke murmured against Kyle’s neck, biting down. “Been wanting to feel it since you sent those pics.”
Kyle’s stomach tightened. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah. Show me what you’re working with.”
Luke pulled back, grinning expectantly. His hand was already on Kyle’s zipper, tugging it down before Kyle could respond. His fingers hooked into Kyle’s waistband and yanked his jeans and underwear down in one motion.
Luke stared.
Silence stretched between them.
“What the fuck is that?” Luke’s voice had gone flat.
Kyle’s three-inch erection—painfully hard, straining toward Luke—bobbed in the open air.
“Where’s the big dick from your photos, man?” Luke’s expression darkened. “Because this?” He flicked Kyle’s tiny cock with one finger, making it bounce. “This is a fucking joke.”
“It’s—”
“It’s a fucking clit.” Luke laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “You catfished me with some porn star’s cock? That’s pathetic.”
Kyle’s face burned. His tiny dick twitched.
“You think this is funny?” Luke stepped closer, crowding Kyle against the wall. “You wasted my fucking time. I cleared my whole night for a real man with a real cock, and you bring me this?” He grabbed Kyle’s crotch, his whole hand engulfing Kyle’s entire package. “Nothing here. Nothing fucking there at all.”
Kyle whimpered.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You like this, don’t you? You get off on being exposed as a fraud?”
“I—”
“Shut up.” Luke’s grip tightened. “You wanted to see what happens when a real man finds out you lied? When he sees what a tiny-dicked fraud you are?”
Kyle nodded, barely breathing.
“Then get on your fucking knees.”
—
Luke wasn’t alone. He’d texted two friends while Kyle knelt waiting, and now Jason and Tyler stood in the doorway, taking in the scene—Kyle naked on the floor, his microscopic cock on display, Luke’s hand in his hair.
“Is this the catfish?” Jason whistled low. “Damn, that’s tiny. Like actually medically tiny.”
Tyler laughed, pulling out his phone. “Hold on, I gotta document this. Never seen a dick that small on a grown man.”
“No photos,” Luke said, but he was grinning. “Yet. First, this little bitch needs to learn what happens when you waste men’s time.”
He shoved Kyle forward onto all fours.
“Look at him,” Jason said, unzipping. “Pathetic. Can’t even call him a man with that thing between his legs.”
“You’re not a man,” Tyler agreed, circling. “You’re a hole. That’s all you’re good for with a dick that useless.”
Kyle’s tiny cock leaked precum onto the floor.
“See that?” Luke pointed. “He’s dripping. The little bitch is getting off on being exposed.”
“Disgusting.” Jason spat on Kyle’s crack. “If you’re gonna act like a fraud, we’ll treat you like one. You don’t deserve to take cock like a real man. You’re getting hate-fucked like the lying slut you are.”
—
The first thrust split Kyle open. Luke didn’t bother with much prep—just enough lube to shove in, and then he was pounding, brutal and unforgiving.
“This what you wanted?” Luke snarled, gripping Kyle’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Wanted real men to use you after they found out what a tiny-dicked fraud you are?”
Kyle moaned into the carpet.
“Answer me!”
“Yes! Fuck—yes!”
“Pathetic.” Jason knelt in front of Kyle’s face, his thick cock slapping against Kyle’s cheek. “Open up. Might as well make your mouth useful since your dick isn’t.”
Kyle opened wide, and Jason shoved in deep, making him gag.
“Look at this,” Tyler said, filming now with Luke’s permission. “Tiny little nub bouncing while two real men use his holes. That thing’s never gonna please anyone.”
Luke reached around and flicked Kyle’s cock again. “This is never going inside anyone. Ever. You were born to take dick, not give it.”
Kyle’s whole body shook. His three inches twitched pathetically, completely ignored, while Luke’s thick seven inches pistoned in and out of his ass.
“Such a tight hole,” Luke groaned. “At least one part of you is useful.”
Jason grabbed Kyle’s hair and fucked his face harder, tears streaming down Kyle’s cheeks. “Take it. Take it like the worthless cumdump you are.”
—
They switched positions, Tyler taking Luke’s place behind Kyle while Luke moved to his mouth.
“You feel that?” Tyler asked, slamming in deep. “That’s a real cock. Eight solid inches. Something you’ll never have.”
Kyle gagged around Luke, drool running down his chin.
“Every time you catfish someone,” Luke said, “this is what you deserve. To be exposed and used. To have real men remind you of your place.”
They fucked him like that for what felt like hours—rotating through his holes, making him taste his own ass on their cocks, commenting endlessly on his tiny dick.
“Look how hard it is,” Jason laughed. “The little thing is straining. You’re close, aren’t you? Gonna cum from being hate-fucked?”
Kyle nodded frantically.
“Go ahead then.” Tyler reached down and gave Kyle’s cock two fingers of attention—barely touching it. “Cum with your useless little dick while real men breed your hole.”
Kyle exploded, his tiny cock spurting pathetically onto the floor below him.
“Look at that load.” Luke sneered. “Barely anything. Just like your cock.”
—
When they finally finished, Kyle lay on the floor, cum leaking from his wrecked hole, his face a mess of tears and spit and semen. His tiny cock had already softened back to its barely-there nub.
Luke crouched beside him. “Same time next week?”
Kyle’s spent cock twitched.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Luke stood, zipping up. “Better have those fake photos ready. I’ve got more friends who’d love to meet a tiny-dicked catfish.”
They left Kyle there—exposed, humiliated, and already aching for more.
—
Kyle spent the next week in a haze. He went to work, came home, and replayed that night over and over—Luke’s disgust, Jason’s laughter, Tyler’s camera capturing every pathetic inch of him. His tiny cock stayed semi-hard almost constantly, aching for more.
Thursday night, he opened Grindr and uploaded a new set of photos. Different stolen cock, same massive proportions. He captioned his profile: “Big dick energy. Looking for guys who can handle it.”
His hands trembled as he hit save.
—
Wesley was the first to message—thirty-two, muscular, gym-rat build, with a cocky smirk in his profile pic.
That dick is insane. You hosting?
Kyle’s pulse raced. Yeah. Tonight?
Be there in 30.
Kyle cleaned himself up, douched, and waited. When the knock came, he opened the door to find Wesley leaning against the frame, tight black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest.
“Nice.” Wesley stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his eyes scanning Kyle’s apartment. “You’re cuter than your face pics. Good body too.”
“Thanks.”
Wesley closed the distance, one hand sliding around Kyle’s waist. “I’ve been thinking about that monster cock since you sent those photos. Eight inches, right? Thick as fuck.”
Kyle swallowed. “Yeah.”
“Show me.” Wesley’s hand dropped to Kyle’s crotch, palming him through his jeans. “Let me feel it.”
Kyle didn’t stop him. He never did.
Wesley’s brow furrowed. Then he yanked Kyle’s belt open and shoved his jeans down. His expression shifted instantly.
“What the actual fuck.”
Kyle’s three-inch erection stood exposed, twitching in the cool air.
Wesley stepped back, laughing bitterly. “Are you kidding me? That’s not even a dick. That’s a fucking thumb.”
“I—”
“You catfished me.” Wesley’s jaw tightened. “With some fake bullshit. You think that’s okay? You think it’s okay to waste my fucking time?”
“I’m sorry—”
“You will be.” Wesley pulled out his phone. “What’s your address? I’m sending it to some friends.”
Kyle’s cock leaked.
“Oh, you like that.” Wesley grabbed Kyle’s tiny package, squeezing hard enough to make him gasp. “You planned this. You wanted to get caught.”
Kyle didn’t deny it.
“Fucking pathetic.” Wesley shoved him toward the bedroom. “On the bed. Face down. Don’t move.”
—
Within twenty minutes, Kyle heard voices in the living room. Wesley had texted Cole and Nate—two guys from his gym, both built, both pissed.
“Where is he?” Cole’s voice was deep, irritated.
“Bedroom. Naked. Tiny little cock out for everyone to see.”
They entered the room, and Kyle felt their gazes on his exposed body.
“Damn,” Nate said. “That’s sad. That’s genuinely sad.”
“Stand up,” Cole ordered. “Let us see this joke of a dick.”
Kyle rose from the bed, his micro-penis on full display, standing at attention despite—or because of—the humiliation.
Cole circled him, shaking his head. “I’ve seen clits bigger than this. How do you even jerk off? Two fingers?”
“Thumb and forefinger,” Wesley said, laughing. “Like a little pimple.”
Nate pulled out his phone. “Can I film this? My buddy won’t believe a grown man has a dick this small.”
“Go ahead,” Wesley said. “He’s not a man. Not with that thing. He’s just a set of holes.”
Kyle whimpered, his tiny cock bobbing.
“Look at him,” Cole sneered. “He’s loving this. Tiny little hard-on twitching while we mock him.”
“Then let’s give him what he really wants.” Wesley unzipped. “A real cock. In his lying ass.”
They didn’t bother being gentle.
Wesley went first, pushing Kyle face-down onto the mattress and mounting him from behind. No warm-up, just spit and pressure, forcing his thick six inches inside Kyle’s tight hole.
“This is what you wanted, right?” Wesley growled, fucking deep. “Wanted real men to find out what a tiny-dicked fraud you are and use you like the worthless cumdump you are?”
Kyle moaned into the sheets.
“He sounds like a bitch,” Nate observed, stroking himself hard. “Sounds like he was made to take cock.”
“He was.” Wesley slapped Kyle’s ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “With a dick that small, he’s not fucking anyone. He’s just a hole to be filled.”
Cole moved to the head of the bed, grabbing Kyle’s hair and lifting his face. “Open.”
Kyle opened his mouth, and Cole fed him seven inches of thick, uncut cock. Kyle gagged immediately, drool spilling down his chin.
“Take it.” Cole held Kyle’s head in place. “You wanted big dicks? Here’s a real one. Choke on it.”
Nate filmed everything—Kyle’s stretched asshole, his tear-streaked face, his tiny cock bouncing uselessly with every thrust.
“This is going in my spank bank forever,” Nate said. “Tiny-dicked catfish getting what he deserves.”
—
They traded positions for over an hour.
Kyle lost track of who was inside him, whose cum coated his face, whose fingers prodded his microscopic erection while laughing at its inadequacy.
“Look how hard he is,” Wesley said, giving Kyle’s cock a flick that made him yelp. “Three inches of pure desperation.”
“You know what?” Cole pulled out of Kyle’s mouth, still hard. “I think he should say it. Say what he is.”
Kyle blinked up at him, cum and spit dripping from his chin.
“Say: I have a tiny, useless dick.”
Kyle’s voice cracked. “I have a tiny, useless dick.”
“Louder.”
“I have a tiny, useless dick!”
“And?”
“I’m only good for taking cock.”
Nate laughed, still filming. “That’s right. Say it again.”
“I’m only good for taking cock.”
“Allah,” Wesley groaned from behind, pounding faster. “I’m gonna breed this fraud’s hole.”
He buried himself deep and came, pumping thick ropes into Kyle’s wrecked ass.
—
When they finally finished, Kyle lay sprawled across his own bed, cum leaking from his hole, his face a mess, his tiny cock soft and spent.
Wesley tossed a card onto the bed. “My buddy runs a group. Guys who like using pathetic little bottoms. I’ll give him your info.”
Kyle’s spent cock stirred.
“Same deal,” Wesley said, zipping up. “Fake profile, big cock pics. They’ll figure it out. They always do.”
He left without another word.
Cole paused at the door. “Next time, I’m bringing my boyfriend. He’s got ten inches. You’ll feel that for days.”
Kyle’s three-inch cock twitched back to life.
—
Two days later, Kyle received a message from an unknown number.
Wesley gave me your info. I’m hosting a party next weekend. Ten guys. All hung—all tops. You’re the entertainment.
Kyle’s hand shook as he typed back: What do I do?
Show up. Drop your pants. Let them see what you really have. Then take every cock we give you.
Kyle stared at his phone, his tiny dick already hard in his pants.
What’s the address?
—
Kyle stood outside the address for ten full minutes before he could make himself knock.
The house was big—two stories —in an expensive neighborhood. Through the windows he could see silhouettes moving, hear the bass thump of music. His stomach churned. His tiny cock was already straining against his jeans, three inches of desperate anticipation.
The door opened. The man behind it was enormous—six-four minimum, shoulders like a linebacker, dark beard trimmed close. He looked Kyle up and down with a slow, evaluating sneer.
“You’re the entertainment.”
“Yes.”
“Name’s Vince. Wesley told me all about you.” He stepped aside. “Come in. The guys are waiting.”
—
The living room held eleven men.
Kyle recognized Wesley immediately, leaning against the wall with a beer, smug. Beside him stood Cole—and Cole’s boyfriend, a tall, lean man with a jawline like a statue and an unmistakable bulge running down his thigh. Nate was there too, camera already out.
The rest were strangers: a hairy-chested bear of a man, a tattooed guy with a shaved head, two Latino brothers with matching smirks, a Black man built like a heavyweight fighter, a wiry redhead, a silver-haired daddy in his fifties, and a college kid who couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
Every one of them was staring at him.
“Here’s how this works,” Vince announced, crossing his arms. “Wesley says you catfish guys with fake dick pics. Says you get off on getting caught. That true?”
Kyle’s throat closed. Eleven pairs of eyes. His cock throbbed.
“Yes.”
“Then show us.” Vince gestured. “Pants off. Let’s see what you lied about.”
Kyle’s fingers shook as he undid his belt. The room went quiet except for the music. He pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles in one motion and stood there, his three-inch erection bobbing in front of eleven strangers.
The silence lasted three full seconds.
Then the room erupted.
“Holy shit.” The college kid doubled over laughing. “That’s it? That’s the whole thing?”
“Look at it,” the shaved-head guy said, filming on his phone. “It looks like a clit with balls attached.”
“I’ve seen nipples bigger than that,” the silver-haired daddy said, sipping his drink. “And I’ve seen a lot of nipples.”
“Wait, wait.” The bear held up a hand. “Hold it up. Let everyone get a good look. Use two fingers.”
Kyle pinched his tiny cock between thumb and forefinger and lifted it, displaying himself. His face burned crimson. His cock leaked a bead of precum that the whole room saw.
“He’s dripping,” the tattooed guy said, delighted. “The little freak is getting off on this.”
“They always do,” Wesley said. “Frauds like him are all the same. Tiny dick, big hunger for humiliation.”
Cole’s boyfriend stepped forward, and the room’s attention shifted. He unzipped slowly, letting his cock fall out heavy and thick—ten inches soft, uncut, hanging like a threat.
“This,” Cole said, wrapping a hand around his boyfriend’s monster, “is what a dick looks like. Compare.”
Kyle stared. The difference was almost comedic. Ten inches soft versus three hard. A real cock versus his little nub.
“Say it,” Cole’s boyfriend said, his voice deep and calm. “Tell the room what you have.”
“A tiny, useless dick,” Kyle whispered.
“Louder.”
“I have a tiny, useless dick!”
“And what are you good for?”
“Taking cock. I’m only good for taking cock.”
“Then get on your knees, bitch. The party’s starting.”
—
They didn’t take turns at first. They converged.
Kyle dropped to his knees in the center of the room and was immediately surrounded—a wall of flesh, cocks slapping against his face from every direction. He grabbed two with his hands, took a third in his mouth, and felt a fourth press between his shoulder blades, marking him with precum.
“Suck,” the Black man ordered, feeding him nine thick inches. Kyle choked, and the man laughed. “All that and you can’t even deep throat? Pathetic.”
“He’s got a three-inch dick, what did you expect?” someone said. “No coordination.”
The college kid grabbed Kyle’s head and fucked his face fast and shallow, using his mouth like a pocket pussy. “This is the only hole worth anything on him,” he announced. “His dick hole doesn’t even exist.”
“His dick hole is an innie,” the redhead cackled.
Nate circled with his camera, getting close-ups of everything: Kyle’s stretched lips, his watering eyes, his tiny cock bouncing untouched between his legs, achingly hard and completely ignored.
“Look at this little thing,” Nate narrated for the video. “Hardest it’s ever been, and nobody wants it. Nobody’s ever going to want it. It’s just decoration. Bad decoration.”
Someone spat on Kyle’s face. Then someone else. He knelt there dripping, moaning around the cock in his throat, and the sound of his own degradation made his nub twitch.
“Get him on the table,” Vince commanded.
—
They bent Kyle over the coffee table—two men holding his arms down, two more spreading his legs wide—and Vince stepped up behind him with a bottle of lube.
“Last chance to back out, fraud.”
“Please,” Kyle gasped. “Please fuck me.”
“You heard him.” Vince pressed his cockhead against Kyle’s hole. “Beg for what you don’t have. Beg for a real man’s dick.”
“Please, I need it, I need real cock, my dick’s too small to fuck anyone, I was born to take it, please—”
Vince shoved in.
Eight thick inches, no mercy, one brutal thrust that punched the air out of Kyle’s lungs. He screamed, and eleven men laughed.
“That’s it,” Vince growled, setting a punishing rhythm. “Take it. Take what you lied about. You wanted to pretend you had a big dick? This is what big dicks do to little bitches like you.”
Kyle’s eyes rolled back. The pain blurred into pleasure, the humiliation into heat, and somewhere in the fog he heard the room talking about him like he wasn’t there—like he was furniture, a toy, a set of holes with a worthless little appendage attached.
“He’s gonna feel that tomorrow.”
“He’s gonna feel it all week.”
“Move over, I want a turn.”
They rotated through him like he was a carnival ride. The bear went second, thick and slow, dragging every inch against Kyle’s prostate until Kyle was sobbing with need, his tiny cock leaking a steady string of precum onto the table. Then the brothers, spit-roasting him, laughing about sharing “the community cumdump.” Then the shaved-head guy, who fucked like a jackhammer while the redhead filmed close-ups of Kyle’s bouncing nub.
“Look at it flop,” the redhead said. “Like a little worm on a hook.”
Cole’s boyfriend went last before the finale. Ten inches, and he worked every one of them in while the room chanted take it, take it, take it. Kyle came undone—crying, begging, his tiny cock pulsing and spurting a pathetic, two-dribble orgasm onto the table without anyone touching it.
“He came from getting fucked!” the college kid shouted. “Hands-free! Look at that little puddle!”
“That’s not even a load,” the daddy said, examining it. “That’s a leakage. A real man would’ve covered that table.”
“He’s not a real man,” Vince said, still balls-deep in Kyle’s ass. “We established that.”
—
They finished on him and in him, one after another.
Cum painted his face, his back, his ruined hole. The daddy made him beg for it in the mouth. The college kid emptied across his tiny cock, deliberately coating it, then flicked it with a finger and said, “Now it’s finally useful for something.”
Kyle lay on the table, wrecked and glazed, hole gaping and drooling, and his body had never felt so right.
Vince stood over him, zipping up. “Wesley was right about you. Best entertainment we’ve had in months.”
“He’s welcome back,” the bear said.
“He’s welcome back anytime,” the brothers corrected, laughing.
Cole’s boyfriend tossed a towel at Kyle’s face. “Clean up, little guy. You did good—for a fraud.”
Wesley was the last to leave. He paused at the door, looking back at Kyle’s cum-soaked, trembling body, and the tiny cock already stirring back to half-mast despite everything.
“You know,” Wesley said, “most guys would quit after tonight. Delete the apps. Accept they’re a bottom and move on with honesty.”
Kyle met his eyes.
“But you’re going to make another fake profile, aren’t you?”
Kyle’s cock twitched to full hardness. Three inches. Standing at attention. Honest about only one thing.
“Yeah,” Kyle whispered. “I am.”
Wesley grinned. “Good. Send me the pics when you do. I’ve got a whole gym full of guys who want a turn catching you.”
—
Three days later, a new profile went live.
New stolen photos. New fake eight inches. New caption: “Hung top looking for tight holes.”
Kyle sat back in his chair, phone buzzing with messages within minutes—hungry men, gorgeous men, men who would arrive expecting a stud and find a fraud with a nub.
Men who would give him exactly what he deserved.
His tiny cock strained against his zipper as he typed his first reply.
Yeah, I’m hosting tonight. Come find out what I’ve got.
He smiled.
They always did.
The End.
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