Babydick!
An SPH Experience by Extra-Childhood8295.
I told myself she was just being cautious. Conservative upbringing. Wanted to take things slow. That’s what I kept repeating in my head anyway.
—
We were sprawled on her couch one evening, halfway through some movie neither of us was watching. Her head rested on my chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on my stomach.
“Can I ask you something random?” I said.
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever gotten, like… unsolicited dick pics?”
She snorted. “Oh god, yes. Since I was like sixteen.”
“Really?”
“Welcome to being a girl with social media.” She tilted her head up to look at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” My throat felt dry. “What were they like?”
“Like?” She laughed. “Like dicks. Some better than others.”
“I mean… like size-wise.”
She propped herself up on one elbow, studying me with amusement. “Why? You conducting a survey?”
“No, just—” I forced a casual shrug. “Wondering what the range is, I guess.”
Brittany stretched back out, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “Most of them were pretty average. Maybe seven inches or so.”
My stomach tightened. Seven inches. Average.
“Biggest?”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “This one guy I was talking to for a while—he was like eight and a half. Maybe nine? It was a lot.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” She grinned. “He knew how to use it too.”
I swallowed hard. “What about… small?”
“Oh, there were definitely some of those.” She giggled. “One guy—I don’t even know why he sent it because it was honestly embarrassing for him. He was maybe four and a half inches and acted like he was showing off something impressive.”
My face went hot. “Four and a half is… that’s really small?”
She looked at me like I’d asked if water was wet. “Yes? That’s tiny. Like, legitimately tiny.”
“Because I thought—” I stopped, mouth suddenly dry.
“Thought what?”
“Nothing.”
“Wait.” She sat up fully now, eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“Are you…” Her expression shifted slowly from confusion to realization. “Oh, my god. You’re four and a half inches too?”
I couldn’t speak. My face burned so hot I thought I might actually catch fire.
“Baby?” She touched my arm. “Is that what this is about?”
“Not… not quite,” I whispered.
“What do you mean not quite?”
I stared at my lap. “I’m three point five. Hard.”
Silence.
Then Brittany let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sigh. “Oh shit.”
“I know. I know it’s—”
“Three and a half?” She repeated it slowly, as if she were processing. “Like… that’s it?”
I nodded miserably.
“That’s…” She pressed her lips together. I could see her struggling not to laugh. “I mean, I suspected you might be below average. The way you always stopped things before we got too far. But three and a half is just sad.”
Sad. The word hit me like a punch.
“That’s a babydick,” she added. “Like, that’s not even in the same category as normal.”
“I know, okay? I know.”
“Have you ever… like, been with anyone who said it was fine?”
“A couple times. But they were probably just being nice.”
“Probably.” She was still staring at my crotch as she could see through my jeans. “Can I… see it?”
“What?”
“Just to know. So I can… I don’t know, adjust my expectations.”
My hands shook as I undid my belt. This was easily the most humiliating moment of my entire life, and somehow I couldn’t stop myself from making it worse.
I pulled down my pants. My dick, already half-hard from the anxiety of the situation, strained against my boxer briefs.
“Those too,” Brittany said quietly.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed them down.
She stared. For what felt like an eternity, she just… stared.
“Wow,” she finally said. “That’s really… that’s something.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you chose it.” She tilted her head. “Can it get any bigger? Like, is that fully hard?”
I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Somehow, impossibly, I got fully erect—my full three and a half inches on display.
“Okay.” She nodded slowly. “So that’s it then.”
“Please don’t break up with me.”
“I’m not going to break up with you.” But her voice had changed. Distant. Clinical. “We can figure something out. There’s other ways to… you know.”
—
She started pulling away after that. Texts went unanswered for hours. Date nights got canceled. When we did hang out, she seemed distracted—always on her phone, always smiling at something on the screen she wouldn’t show me.
It took me two months to figure out she was fucking someone else.
—
“I’m sorry, okay? I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
We were in her living room, my world crumbling around me.
“Couldn’t do what? Be with me?”
“Be unsatisfied.” She crossed her arms. “You’re great in other ways, but I have needs. Real needs. And you literally cannot meet them.”
“So you cheated.”
“I found someone who could give me what you can’t.” She shrugged. “His name is Derek. He’s eight inches. Thick.”
I flinched at the name—Derek was on my list of names to avoid, but the user’s instruction was for me not to use those names, not for characters in the story. Let me reconsider—actually, I should pick a different name to be safe. Let me use “Connor” instead.
“I found someone who can give me what you can’t,” she said. “His name is Connor. He’s eight inches. Thick.”
“You could have just broken up with me first.”
“Maybe.” She had the decency to look slightly guilty. “But I wanted to make sure it was actually better before I threw away what we had.”
“And?”
Her smile answered before her words did. “It was way better.”
—
The real nightmare started after we officially split.
I should have known better. I did know better. But Brittany was persuasive, and I was desperate for any scrap of validation.
“It’s not that bad,” she texted me one night. “Honestly, I was too harsh. Some girls like smaller guys. It’s all about finding the right fit.”
You really think so?
“I do. And for what it’s worth, you were always sweet. Send me a pic? So that I can remember what I’m missing?”
I hesitated for hours. But the loneliness won out.
I took the photo—fully hard, ruler beside it for context, the numbers undeniable—three point five inches.
Thanks, baby. Miss you already.
—
A week later, my phone started blowing up.
Messages from numbers I didn’t recognize. Screenshots. My own dick staring back at me from group chats I wasn’t part of.
OMG, is this real??
That’s so sad lol
I didn’t know they came that small.
What does he even do with it??
Brittany had shared everything. The measurements. The conversations. The pathetic desperation in my texts asking if she thought I was big enough.
She told everyone we knew that she cheated because I had a babydick. That she’d been faking it the whole time. That she couldn’t even feel me when we fooled around.
And the photos—those were everywhere now. Passed between her friends, their friends, guys from my school, girls I’d had crushes on. Everyone had seen me at my most vulnerable, my most pathetic.
—
I ran into her at a party three months later. She was draped over some tall guy with arms like tree trunks.
“Hey!” She spotted me and waved, grinning. “You remember Connor, right?”
I’d never met him.
“Connor, this is the guy I told you about. The one with the—” she held up her pinky finger and wiggled it.
Connor laughed. “Oh yeah? That’s rough, dude.”
I left without saying a word.
—
That was two years ago. I still get the occasional message from strangers who’ve seen the photos. Still see my name pop up in conversations I’m not supposed to know about.
Brittany’s moved on, happily dating guys who can actually satisfy her. Last I heard, she’s engaged to some guy with nine inches.
And me? I still measure sometimes, hoping maybe I grew. I never did.
Three point five inches. Babydick.
Some things never change.
The End.
