The Interrogation
A Fictional SPH Story by TheFuzz256.
The door swung open, and two officers walked in. The first was tall, with broad hips and heavy breasts straining against her navy uniform shirt. Her partner was shorter but just as stacked, her button threatening to pop between her cleavage.
“Detective Reeves,” the tall one said, dropping a folder on the table. “This is Detective Cole.” She settled into the chair across from him while Cole leaned against the wall, arms crossed beneath her ample chest.
“Let’s talk about your computer,” Reeves said, flipping open the folder. “We found some… interesting images in your browser history. Images uploaded to a public forum.”
His stomach dropped. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Don’t.” Cole’s voice was sharp. “We have your IP address. We have timestamps. We have everything.”
Reeves slid a printed photo across the table. Face down.
“Look at it,” she ordered.
He turned it over—and felt the blood drain from his face. It was a grainy screenshot of a completely hairless, tiny penis. Maybe two inches hard. The kind of thing that could belong to…
“Oh God,” he whispered.
“You recognize it?” Reeves leaned forward, her shirt gaping slightly. “Because that’s being investigated as child exploitation material. Someone posted this to a forum with the caption ‘my little thing.’ We traced it to your apartment.”
“No—no, you don’t understand—”
“Then explain it to us.” Cole pushed off the wall, moving closer. “Because right now, you’re looking at federal charges.”
He swallowed hard. His face burned with shame hotter than any fever.
“That’s… that’s not a child.”
Reeves raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not.” He couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “It’s mine.”
Silence.
Then Cole laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. I’m twenty-five years old. That’s my dick. I posted it because… because I have a fetish, okay? Small penis humiliation. I posted it to a forum for that. I’m a grown man.”
Reeves studied him, her expression unreadable. “You expect us to believe that a grown man has a penis that small? Hairless? Looking like… that?”
“Yes.” His voice cracked. “I shave. And I’m… I’m small. I know.”
“Prove it.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
Cole’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a challenge. “You heard her. If that’s really you, prove it. Drop your pants and show us this supposed ‘adult’ penis we’re investigating.”
“You can’t be serious—”
“Right now, you’re looking at possession of child exploitation material.” Reeves’s voice was flat. “That’s fifteen years minimum. But if you’re telling the truth…” She gestured at his jeans. “One zipper and this whole thing goes away.”
His hands trembled as he stood. The cuffs clinked against the button. He’d fantasized about something like this—being exposed, humiliated—but reality was so much worse. So much more real.
He pushed his jeans down. Then his boxers.
The room went silent.
Cole’s eyes went wide. Reeves leaned forward, studying his groin with clinical detachment.
“Holy shit,” Cole breathed. “It really is you.”
His tiny, hairless penis sat flush against his body—barely a nub, even soft. His balls were small and tight, completely shaved. The whole package looked like it belonged on someone half his age.
“Stand up straight,” Reeves ordered. “Hands at your sides.”
He complied, feeling the cool air on his exposed flesh. His face burned.
“I’ve seen clits bigger than this,” Cole said, moving closer. She reached out—then paused, looking at Reeves, who nodded permission. Her fingers pinched the head of his penis, lifting it. “This gets hard? This little thing?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Show us.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You heard her.” Reeves stood now, circling him like a predator. “Get it hard. Let’s see exactly what we’re working with.”
“I can’t just—”
“Can’t?” Cole’s grip tightened slightly on his nub. “Able to post pictures online but can’t perform for two women in person? Some pervert you are.”
Her touch—clinical and humiliating—sent an unwanted spark through him. Against his will, he felt blood rushing to his tiny shaft.
“Oh my God,” Cole laughed, “it’s actually getting hard. Look at that.”
She released him and stepped back. Both women stared at his erection—maybe three inches, straining, the head swollen and purple.
“That’s it?” Reeves sounded genuinely shocked. “That’s as big as it gets?”
“Yes, detective.”
“Jesus.” She exchanged a look with Cole. “I’ve been on the force for twelve years. Never seen anything like this on an adult male.”
“Me neither.” Cole tilted her head, studying him. “It’s kind of cute, actually. Like a little baby dick. No wonder we thought—”
“This is the evidence,” Reeves interrupted, pulling out her phone. “I need to document this for the file.”
“Wait—”
“Stand still.”
She snapped several photos. He wanted to die. He wanted to sink through the floor. But underneath the shame, something else stirred—something dark and hot.
“Spread your legs,” Cole ordered. “Let’s see those little balls.”
He shuffled his feet apart. She cupped him, weighing his testicles in her palm.
“Smaller than average,” she announced. “But definitely adult. No Tanner stage development issues here—just genetically… blessed.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
Reeves finished documenting and pocketed her phone. “Well. I suppose that clears up the child exploitation angle.”
He sagged with relief. “Thank God. Can I—can I pull up my pants now?”
“Did we say you could?”
He froze.
Cole smiled—a slow, predatory thing. “You posted to a humiliation forum, right? That’s what you said?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then you want this.” She gestured at his exposed state. “Being seen. Being judged. Having two hot detectives laugh at your tiny baby dick while you stand there helpless.”
His cock twitched. Both women noticed.
“Look at that,” Reeves murmured. “He likes it. The little pervert actually likes being exposed.”
“I’m not—”
“Shh.” She stepped closer, her large breasts nearly touching his chest. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to clear your record. No charges. But first…” She reached down, her thumb and forefinger closing around his shaft. “We’re going to have some fun.”
“Fun?”
“Consider it community service.” She stroked him once—just once—and he whimpered. “For wasting police resources.”
Cole moved behind him. Her hands slid around his waist, one settling on his hip while the other cupped his balls from behind. “Such a cute little package,” she whispered against his ear. “I almost feel bad for you. Almost.”
Reeves began working him in earnest now—her grip tight, her pace slow. His hips jerked forward, seeking more friction.
“Pathetic,” she breathed. “This tiny thing is all you have to offer a woman? No wonder you get off on being humiliated. This is the only way you’ll ever get attention, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he gasped, the truth spilling out. “Yes, I’m—fuck—I’m so small—”
“Smallest I’ve ever seen.” Cole’s breath was hot on his neck. “My fourteen-year-old nephew is bigger than you. Probably has been since he was twelve.”
He moaned, his balls drawing up tight.
“You’re going to cum for us,” Reeves ordered. “Right here, in this interrogation room, with your tiny baby dick in my hand. And when you do, you’re going to say ‘I’m a small-dicked pervert who gets off on being exposed.'”
“I’m—I’m a small-dicked pervert—”
“Who gets off on being exposed,” Cole prompted, squeezing his balls.
“Who gets off on being exposed!”
“Closer.” Reeves twisted her wrist on the upstroke. “Such a little thing. Barely a handful. I bet you’ve never satisfied a woman in your life.”
“N-no—never—”
“Of course not.” She laughed softly. “What woman would want this? What woman would settle for something so small, so pathetic, so childlike?”
He shattered.
His cock pulsed in her grip—three, four, five times—as cum dribbled out, weak and watery. It coated her fingers, some dripping to the floor. His knees buckled, but Cole held him upright from behind.
“Such a small load,” Reeves observed, examining her cum-slicked fingers. “Barely anything. I guess small dicks produce small loads.”
“Matches the equipment,” Cole agreed, releasing him.
He stood there, pants around his ankles, cum cooling on his thighs, completely humiliated.
And somehow, impossibly, more satisfied than he’d ever been in his life.
Reeves wiped her hand on his shirt. “You’re free to go. We’ll process the paperwork in the morning.”
“Wait—that’s it?”
“That’s it.” She gathered the folder. “Unless you’d like to stay longer? I’m sure we could find more reasons to… question you.”
Cole smirked. “We know where you live now. And what you’re working with.”
He pulled up his jeans with shaking hands. “Thank you, officers.”
“Detectives,” Reeves corrected. “And you’re welcome. Try to stay out of trouble.” She paused at the door. “Or don’t. Either way, we’ll be seeing you.”
The door closed behind them.
He stood alone in the interrogation room, the fluorescent lights still buzzing overhead, wondering if he’d just had the worst day of his life—or the best.
—
The Aftermath
He sat in his car for twenty minutes after leaving the station, hands gripping the steering wheel, unable to process what had just happened. His jeans felt sticky. His face still burned. And his tiny cock—traitor that it was—kept twitching at the memory of Detective Reeves’s fingers wrapped around it.
They know, he thought. Two gorgeous detectives now know exactly what I’m packing. Or not packing.
He drove home on autopilot.
—
His apartment felt different. Smaller. Like the walls were closing in. He showered, scrubbing Reeves’s dried cum from his skin, watching it swirl down the drain.
He checked his phone. Nothing.
He checked it again—still nothing.
Of course nothing, he told himself. What did you expect? A follow-up? A date?
He laughed at his own stupidity and went to bed.
—
Three days passed.
He jumped every time his phone buzzed. Every knock at the door made his heart race. He kept replaying the interrogation—the exposure, the laughter, the touch.
He’d never cum so hard in his life.
And he’d never felt so empty afterward.
Day four. A knock at the door.
He opened it to find both detectives standing in the hallway, out of uniform this time. Reeves wore a tight black dress that hugged every curve. Cole had on jeans and a low-cut top that displayed her cleavage.
“Evening,” Reeves said, smirking. “We have some follow-up questions.”
“About the case?” His voice cracked.
Cole laughed. “What case? You were cleared, remember?”
They pushed past him into his apartment without invitation.
—
“So here’s the thing,” Reeves said, settling onto his couch, legs crossed. Her dress rode up her thighs. “We ran your name through the system. You’ve never been in trouble. Good job. Clean record. No other… anomalies.”
“Except that tiny little problem in your pants,” Cole added, standing by the window.
He stood frozen by the door. “Why are you here?”
Reeves patted the cushion beside her. “Sit.”
He sat.
“Good boy.” She placed a hand on his thigh. “Now. We’ve been talking. Detective Cole and I.”
“And we realized something,” Cole continued, moving closer. “We enjoyed that little interrogation more than we should have.”
“Much more.”
Reeves’s hand slid higher. “The power. The control. Watching you squirm. Watching that pathetic little thing get hard for us.”
His cock stirred in his pants. Both women noticed.
“There it is,” Cole breathed. “Such a responsive little thing.”
“We want to make you an offer,” Reeves said, her fingers tracing the outline of his tiny shaft through his jeans. “An arrangement. Ongoing.”
“What kind of arrangement?”
“Weekly sessions. You. Us. This apartment.” She squeezed him gently. “We get to play with our new favorite toy, and you get what you crave—humiliation, exposure, attention from two women who’d never look twice at you otherwise.”
“Think about it,” Cole whispered against his ear. “Two sets of hands. Two sets of tits. Two mouths telling you exactly how small and pathetic you are.”
He swallowed hard. “And if I say no?”
Reeves laughed. “Why would you say no? Look at yourself.” She nodded at his lap, where his tiny erection strained against his zipper. “Your little baby dick is already saying yes.”
—
They undressed him slowly.
Reeves worked his belt while Cole pulled his shirt over his head. They took their time, teasing, commenting on every inch of exposed skin.
“Such a scrawny frame,” Cole observed. “You work out?”
“I try—”
“Try harder.” She pinched his nipple. Hard.
His pants dropped. His boxers followed.
Both women stared at his hairless, three-inch erection.
“Even smaller than I remembered,” Reeves said. “Isn’t that funny? Memory always exaggerates. But this—” She flicked the head with her fingernail. “This is somehow smaller.”
He gasped.
“On your knees,” Cole ordered.
He dropped.
Reeves hiked up her dress and slid her panties down her thick thighs. “You’ve never satisfied a woman with this, have you?” She held up her pinky finger. “Something this small could never reach the places I need filled.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Ma’am.” She smiled. “I like that. Keep using it.”
Cole undressed behind him. He heard fabric rustling, then the soft click of a bra hitting the floor. Her heavy breasts pressed against his back as she reached around to stroke his tiny cock.
“Such a waste of flesh,” she murmured. “If you had even one more inch, you might be fuckable. But this? This is just… sad.”
Reeves stepped closer, her bare pussy inches from his face. She was waxed smooth, thick-lipped, glistening.
“This is what a real woman looks like,” she said. “Something you’ll never deserve. But you can smell it. Can’t you?”
He inhaled deeply. Musk and arousal flooded his senses.
“Good boy.” She grabbed his hair and pulled his face into her crotch. “Lick. Show me what that mouth can do since your dick is useless.”
—
He licked.
He licked as if his life depended on it—because maybe it did. His tongue worked Reeves’s folds, finding her clit, sucking gently, then harder, then gentle again.
Behind him, Cole kept stroking his tiny cock with two fingers, occasionally twisting or slapping it.
“Pathetic little nub,” she narrated. “Barely anything to hold onto. Like a clitoris with delusions of grandeur.”
Reeves moaned above him. Her thighs squeezed his head. “Better than I expected. Good technique. Compensating for something?”
“Always,” Cole answered for him. “Small-dicked men learn to use their mouths. It’s survival.”
Reeves laughed, then gasped. Her hips bucked against his face. “Right there—don’t stop—”
He didn’t.
She came with a shudder, grinding against his mouth, coating his chin with her slick.
“Fuck,” she breathed, stepping back. “Not bad.”
Cole released his cock and walked around to stand beside Reeves. Both women looked down at him—kneeling, naked, erect, covered in Reeves’s cum.
“Your turn,” Reeves said, nodding at Cole.
Cole spread her legs. “My turn to see what this mouth can do.”
—
He serviced them both.
Twice each.
By the end, his jaw ached, and his knees were raw from the carpet. His tiny cock bobbed uselessly between his legs—hard, neglected, desperate.
“Poor baby,” Reeves cooed, looking down at him. “All that work and no reward?”
“Please—” The word escaped before he could stop it.
“Please what?”
“Please let me cum.”
Cole laughed. “So polite. So pathetic.” She crouched beside him and took his shaft between thumb and forefinger. “You want to cum for us, baby dick? Show us those little spurts again?”
“Yes—please—”
She stroked him slowly. “Beg better.”
“I’m a small-dicked pervert,” he gasped. “I’m pathetic. I’m useless. I’ll never satisfy anyone. My cock is a joke. A baby dick. A clit with an inferiority complex. Please—please let me cum—”
Reeves watched, arms crossed beneath her heavy breasts. “Good. Continue.”
“I’m nothing—my dick is nothing—I deserve to be humiliated—exposed—laughed at—”
Cole’s grip tightened. Her pace quickened.
“Cum for us, baby dick.”
He did.
Weak, watery spurts dribbled over Cole’s fingers. His whole body shook. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“Such a small load,” Reeves observed. “Barely a teaspoon.”
“Matches the equipment,” Cole agreed, wiping her hand on his thigh.
—
They stayed the night.
All three of them in his small bed, the detectives on either side, him in the middle. He’d never felt smaller—or more content.
“Same time next week?” Reeves murmured against his shoulder.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“And you’ll keep yourself shaved,” Cole added. “We like our toy smooth.”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
—
Four months later…
He sat in the same interrogation room where it all started, but this time he wasn’t in trouble. The cuffs on his wrists were decorative—pink fuzzy ones that Cole had bought as a joke.
Reeves stood before him, slowly unbuttoning her uniform shirt. “You’ve been such a good boy lately. Following all our rules.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Shirt off,” Cole ordered from behind him.
He’d learned not to hesitate.
“Good.” She traced his spine with one fingernail. “Now. Today’s session is special. We have a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
Reeves pulled out her phone and showed him the screen—a dating profile. His dating profile. With pictures of his tiny cock prominently displayed.
“We made you a profile,” she said. “On a site for size queens and humiliation fetishists. You’ve been getting lots of attention.”
His stomach dropped. “You didn’t—”
“We did.” Cole’s hands slid around his waist. “Your little secret isn’t secret anymore. Forty-three messages in the last hour alone. People wanting to see, to touch, to laugh.”
“Consider it exposure therapy,” Reeves added, smirking. “We’re helping you embrace who you are.”
She pocketed the phone and unhooked her bra. Her heavy breasts spilled free.
“But don’t worry. You’re still our baby dick. We just want to share.”
Cole’s fingers found his tiny, hairless shaft. “Our little toy. Our pathetic, beautiful, useless toy.”
He moaned.
And for the first time in his life, he felt truly seen.
The End.
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