SPH-THEMED EROTICA STORIES

*****

Part 3…

Wade drove in silence, the road disappearing into the dark beneath his tires. He had nowhere to go. One question kept circling in his mind: Why had this happened?

He’d done everything right. He’d rescued the project, worked late, and spent years being the one everyone could count on. Yet Eric had tossed him aside as if none of it mattered—and then humiliated him in front of his coworkers.

The phone buzzed on the console. Wade pulled over and answered.

“Sara Shaker,” he said, recognizing his lawyer’s number.

“Wade. I just heard what happened,” Sara said calmly. A soft crunch came through the phone. She was eating.

“The news has already spread, huh?” Wade said, disappointment weighing down his voice.

“I’m sorry.” Sara paused, then swallowed. “Eric’s already making calls. That motherfucker is putting your name on the blacklist.”

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “What does that mean?”

“It means he might use his influence to make it harder for you to find another job,” she said. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but we should prepare for the possibility.”

Wade gave a disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking. He can’t do that, right?”

“I could tell you he can’t,” Sara replied, “but you know Eric better than I do. Unfortunately, he has plenty of cocksuckers willing to do his bidding.”

He fell silent. Years of hard work had built his reputation across the industry. Now, a few phone calls threatened to wipe it all away.

“Don’t worry,” Sara said, her voice turning firmer. “I’m going to build a wrongful-termination case. We can prove that easily.”

“How?” Wade asked, hope straining through his voice.

“We start by gathering everything that tells our side of the story: emails, project records, performance reviews, witness accounts—anything that documents your work and what led to your termination.”

Her certainty steadied him. “And can we… win?” He wasn’t looking for the right answer, just one that would make him feel better.

“Yes, we can”. She said with a confident voice. “We’ll fuck him over together—you take his face, and I’ll take his ass,” Sara said playfully, before taking another bite of her sandwich.

He smiled, knowing it was a metaphor, but he couldn’t help but picture it:

Eric, naked, bent over the bed in a slightly lit room. He looked up, his eyes filled with fear, quietly asking for forgiveness. Wade stood over him with his trousers down. A grin on his face, he took Eric’s head with his hands, letting his hard dick brush against Eric’s lips. Eric opened his mouth, just enough, and took Wade’s penis in — and began to suck it.

On the other side of the bed, Sara stood in snug black pants that hugged her thighs and a low-cut top that showed off her large boobs. Most strikingly, she held a dildo between her legs. The 8-inch, thick dildo was attached to the harness around her waist, four times bigger than Wade’s hard penis. She rubbed Eric’s ass and gave him a hard slap, then she gazed at his butt cheeks; she spread him open and looked at what she would work with, laughing. She held his cheeks and squeezed, then inserted the dildo inside his asshole. Eric’s eyes widened, Wade’s dick still in his mouth. His mouth stopped moving in a steady rhythm against Wade’s dick. His entire body seized with tension as tears welled in his eyes. Wade moved his hips and laughed, looking pleased and content.

“Wade… Wade, are you still there?” Sara asked, her voice crackling through the phone.

“Yeah, I am here,” He replied.

“Good. Then listen carefully. Building this case is going to take time—a lot of it. We’re in for a long, long journey.” Sara’s voice had turned serious.

“How long are we talking?” Wade asked, his voice edged with impatience.

“Years,” Sara replied.

“What! Years?” His voice cracked. “Years of Eric smiling every day and continuing to get head from his whore. I can’t live with that. Come on, Sara, you’re a smart lawyer. Do something lawyerly about it—object, Your Honor, or whatever you lawyers do. I can’t wait that long.”

“I am a lawyer Wade, not a magician. It will take years, and there is nothing we can do about it.” She paused. “Which brings me to why I am calling.”

Wade blinked. “I thought that was the reason you called.”

She sighed. “No, Wade. I’m speaking as your friend now,” she said, her voice soft and calm.

Wade listened, wary.

“I have a pretty good idea of what your life looks like,” she said carefully.

“That sounds a tiny bit judgy, ” he said.

“Wade, it’s not judgy.”

“Well, the way you said it makes it sound judgy.”

“It’s not,” she insisted, her voice rising.

“It is,” Wade said, refusing to let it go.

“Yes, Wade, I’m fucking judging you!” she snapped. “You’ve got an expensive house, an expensive car, loans, invoices, Luna, Emma’s school—”

“I get it,” he cut in. “I am aware of all of that.”

“I’ve checked your bank account, and honestly, Wade, it looks like you have only four months before you run into serious trouble.”

“All right, Sara, I understand,” Wade said, breathing heavily.

Sara kept going. “You need to cut spending and have priorities; you can’t buy whatever Emma wants each month”

Wade cut her off, his voice firm. “Sara… I’ll take care of it.”

The silence between them stretched for a few seconds. He shifted uncomfortably, then lowered his voice. “I just have one request: please don’t tell anyone in our circle I got fired. Especially Luna.”

Sara hesitated for a moment, and then she exhaled, “As you wish. Don’t worry about it”

“Thank you,” Wade said in a calm voice.

“No problem. Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

The call ended.

—

The street was empty in the deep quiet of night. Wade started the car and drove home. Inside, he stripped down to his underwear and fell onto the bed, staring tiredly at the ceiling while Sara’s words replayed in his mind.

Four months. She was right. If he wanted to keep any of this hidden, he needed a job. More income. Anything. But how could he find work when no one in the industry would hire him?

Then another thought cut through his exhaustion: Luna finding out. She’d already made him feel like he wasn’t enough, then chosen another man. He could almost see the look on her face when the truth got revealed.

But Luna wasn’t the only thing that truly frightened him.

Emma.

She’d always believed he was the father who could handle anything, the man who would take care of her no matter what. The father who fulfilled every request. What if that changed?.

He didn’t even live with her anymore. Emma lived with Patrick—the man who had taken his wife. Patrick spent more time with Emma now. He had money, fame, success—everything Wade once had. And suddenly, Wade felt it all slipping away. He could endure a lot. But he couldn’t sit by and watch Patrick become an even bigger part of his daughter’s life simply because Wade could no longer provide for her. He wouldn’t let the man who had taken his wife take his life. Wade rubbed his temples. Beside the bed sat a photograph of Emma and him, captured in a happier moment. He stared at it until a faint smile touched his lips.

“I’m not giving up,” he whispered.

For two months, he’d left the house at 8:30 every morning in a work shirt, carrying a briefcase. He drove to a café on the other side of town, ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, and stayed until six to apply for jobs.

Sixteen interviews. Sixteen smiles. Sixteen handshakes. Fifteen rejections—and one “We’ll call you later.” Wade knew exactly what that meant. Eric had done precisely what Sara had warned him he would. Nobody wanted Wade Smith.

That evening, Wade sat alone at the far end of a slightly lit bar, loosely holding a glass of whiskey. His jacket lay on the seat beside him. His shirt was rumpled, his tie hung slack, and exhaustion showed on his face.

He took another sip of the cheap whiskey. His phone lit up with a text from Samantha: “I was wondering if you’re free this weekend; maybe we can hang out.”

For the past two weeks, he’d been avoiding her—not because he didn’t want to see her, but because he couldn’t afford to date. He’d been looking for affordable places to go. Restaurant offers, free events, parks—anything that could pass as a date without forcing him to check his bank account every ten minutes. Samantha thought he was just busy with his work. Luna hadn’t noticed anything. Emma still believed her father had his life under control.

Sounds started coming from upstairs. People rushed through the cramped floor, weaving around lights, cameras, costumes, and coils of cable. Music thudded in the background. Someone was arguing about makeup; someone else yelled that a battery was missing. The commotion seemed to rise through the ceiling, but Wade barely noticed. His own troubles had filled his mind.

Without warning, a man’s shout rang out from above.

“What do you mean he is not coming?”

Wade glanced up. Upstairs, a fat man in a yellow Hawaiian shirt stood amid the chaos, a gold chain around his neck and so much gel in his hair it looked like it might slide off.

“I don’t know, Mr. Jerry,” a production assistant said, shrugging nervously. “He just called and said he wants more money.”

“Fucking ridiculous.” Jerry threw his hands up. “He films a few scenes, and suddenly thinks he’s Tom Cruise.”

A young woman standing nearby with a clipboard looked toward him. “Jerry, we have to figure out what we are going to do; it’s the last day.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Jerry snapped. “If I don’t deliver the clip, the studio will shit on me.”

“They won’t shit on you,” she said.

Jerry’s shoulders eased.

“They’ll probably just fire you.”

The relief drained from his face. He stared at her for a moment, then sighed tiredly.

“Thank you, Lea. You can leave me now.”

Jerry glanced at the empty glass in his hand, then turned toward the bar downstairs.

Downstairs, Wade hadn’t moved. He sat turning his whiskey slowly between his fingers.

Jerry reached the bar and took a seat two stools away. He raised a finger to the bartender, who began pouring. Jerry lifted the glass and took a long drink. Wade barely noticed him, absorbed in his whiskey as he took small sips. A quiet moment settled between them.

Then the bartender approached Wade.

“Sir, you’ve been here for two hours and have only ordered one drink,” the bartender said.

Wade shot him an irritated look. “What, do you have a timer running on every customer?”

“No, sir.”

“Then stop bothering me and let me finish my drink,” Wade snapped, his voice climbing.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that the place is about to get busier.”

Wade glared at him, jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the glass. Every instinct urged him to stand up and punch the man square in the face.

“Put another drink for the gentleman on my tab,” Jerry said, offering Wade a warm smile.

Wade glanced at him warily. The bartender nodded and poured another drink. Jerry picked it up and walked over, keeping his eyes on Wade.

Wade swallowed hard. “Thanks for the drink. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Think nothing of it. You seem like a nice man.” Jerry paused, giving Wade an appraising look. “And I see something special in you,” he added, leaning closer and smiling.

Wade coughed nervously and leaned back. “I’m not gay,” he said, his voice wavering.

Jerry stopped. He stared at Wade, plainly puzzled, as if searching for the part of the conversation he’d missed.

“Look, man, thanks for the drink. I really appreciate it. It’s just—I’m not gay.”

Jerry held his gaze for three long seconds. Then he burst out laughing and clapped Wade on the shoulder. The blow landed hard enough to make Wade stagger.

“Oh, no, no—you’ve got it all wrong. I’m Jerry, a movie director. We’re filming a scene upstairs.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “I just noticed you, and I have to say—wow. You’ve got a special kind of charisma. Have you ever considered acting?”

Wade gave a doubtful chuckle. “Me? An actor?”

“I’m serious. You’ve got a real star’s face.” Jerry paused, letting his eyes drift toward Wade’s belly. “And the body…, too,” Jerry said with hidden hesitation.

Wade looked down at himself. He was forty-five, a little soft around the middle, and had already eaten toast and cheese twice that morning.

“Nah. I don’t see myself as an actor. Seems impossible.”

“My friend, that’s exactly why you’re perfect. You don’t think of yourself as an actor, so you’ll be natural in front of the camera,” Jerry said, with the confidence of a man who could sell almost anything. “Besides, it’s only an hour of shooting, and you’ll get two thousand dollars. So you can sit at the bar until tomorrow.”

Wade’s eyebrows shot up.

“Two… two thousand for one hour?” he stammered.

Jerry nodded, smiling.

Wade did the math before he could stop himself. Two thousand dollars could cover a mortgage payment, a gift for Emma, or three weeks of groceries. It could also buy one dinner with Samantha at a place with tablecloths—somewhere he wouldn’t have to check the menu prices first.

“What kind of movie?”

Jerry’s smile widened. That probably should have worried Wade.

“Historical,” Jerry said.

Wade exhaled. “That’s fine.”

“Great!” Jerry sprang to his feet, suddenly brimming with energy. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

Wade downed his whiskey in one gulp and hurried after him. As they climbed the stairs, Jerry assured him he’d enjoy it—that it would be easy.

“You are gonna love it. Easy work. It’s about the Roman Empire, a very, very important period of history”

Wade nodded.

They reached the top of the stairs. Wade stopped.

Upstairs was pure chaos. People rushed in every direction, voices overlapping and feet pounding the floor. One woman swept by naked in a loose robe revealing her bare boobs and pink nipples; another person, dressed in a furry costume, strode by with a pair of handcuffs dangling from one hand.

Wade blinked. Then blinked again.

“Jerry,” Wade said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Is this normal?” Wade asked

Jerry glanced around casually.

“Of course.” Jerry gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Don’t be scared.”

“I am not scared. Just wondering, why are there handcuffs?”

“Historical accuracy. In the old days, they handcuffed slaves,” Jerry said without hesitation.

“And the costume?” Wade asked, staring at him.

Jerry paused. “Greek mythology.”

“But you said it’s the Roman period.”

Jerry stared at Wade for several seconds, then cleared his throat. “Same shit. They borrowed from each other.” He kept his eyes averted, as if eye contact might expose the weakness of his explanation.

Wade nodded slowly, as if accepting the answer—or perhaps simply chose to.

Just then, Lea walked over.

“Here she is,” Jerry said, visibly relieved to have someone else break the awkward silence. “Let me introduce you to Lea, my assistant.”

He turned to Wade and raised a hand. “Lea, this is our star…”

Jerry stopped. His confident introduction faltered when he realized he didn’t know the star’s name.

For a beat, the silence returned.

Wade looked at him. Jerry looked back, searching desperately for a name that wasn’t there.

“Wade,” Wade supplied, holding out his hand.

Lea shook it, then gave him an up-and-down look. “So this is your backup.”

Jerry let out an awkward laugh. “No, no—he’s not a backup; he is the king.” He smiled at Wade.

Lea’s eyebrows went up. She looked at Wade again. Then at Jerry.

“Jerry, can I talk to you for a second?” Lea said, pulling Jerry aside.

They spoke in low voices, as if arguing. The room was noisy, but Wade could still hear enough to know something was going on. He missed some of their words, but their rapid exchanges, Jerry’s interruptions, and increasingly animated gestures told him plenty.

 

 

Then one phrase carried clearly across the room.

“Do you really think Winnie-the-Pooh would fit the scene?” Lea said, looking toward Wade.

Wade glanced down at himself. Somehow, it wasn’t the worst thing anyone had called him lately.

“He will be fine,” Jerry said.

“Really?”

“We’ve got no other options, Lea. Let’s just use him tonight, and we can figure out tomorrow.”

Lea paused, looking at Jerry first, then Wade, and finally back at Jerry. She sighed.

“Fine”

Lea walked over to Wade. “Follow me.”

Wade followed her into a small, private room. On the table lay a sheet of papers labeled THE GREAT CONQUEROR, along with a king costume.

“Here’s the script,” she said, handing it to Wade. “Now, take off your clothes and put on this costume.” With that, she swept out, leaving him alone.

Wade picked up the costume: a purple cape with fake fur at the collar and a gold-painted plastic crown. He held the cape against himself. It reached his knees. The crown looked enormous; he didn’t need to try it on to know it would swallow his head whole. He got dressed, picked up the script, and started reading.

The scene featured a powerful king preparing to invade Rome. A woman entered his room. She was a servant, ready to ease his tension before the battle. Wade read another paragraph. She knelt, unbuttoning his trousers, and then took hold of his dick with her hands. She opened her mouth and started to suck his cock. The conqueror roughly grabbed her hair and moved her head as he groaned.

“Rome can wait.” Then he finished in her mouth.

Wade’s eyebrows slowly rose; his eyes widened. He read it again to make sure he was not misreading. This scene included nudity, a blowjob, and dialogue so shocking that he paused mid-sentence.

“This is porn.”

Wade shot to his feet and stormed out, the script clenched in his fist. He scanned the hallway, his fury rising with every empty corner.

“Where’s Jerry?” he barked.

Near the set, Jerry was arguing with a cameraman. Wade strode over and thrust the script at him.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?”

Jerry blinked. “Hey, man, relax. What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem? You want me to do porn! That’s the problem.” Wade jabbed a finger at the pages. “You didn’t say a word about this. I thought it was a regular movie shoot—a historical role. Not… this.”

“It is historical,” Jerry said.

“IT’S PORN.”

“Historical porn,” Jerry replied with a playful smile, trying to take the edge off. “It’s not like the Romans didn’t have sex.”

Wade’s shock hardened into anger. He’d come looking for two thousand dollars to help with his mortgage—not to strip down in front of a camera while some girl sucked his cock for the internet.

Jerry opened his mouth, but Wade silenced him with a look.

“You could’ve mentioned the whole porn part before I showed up.” Wade turned to leave.

“Twenty-five hundred!” Jerry shouted.

Wade froze. “What?” He glanced back.

Jerry sighed. “I’ll add another five hundred dollars, but I need you to calm down.”

Wade stayed where he was, still angry, but thinking now, too.

Jerry leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Listen, Wade. Your face will be completely blurred, and your real name won’t appear anywhere. It’s going on a subscription website. No one will know it’s you.”

Wade studied him, then glanced down at the script in his hand. Twenty-five hundred dollars. Jerry watched the calculations play out across Wade’s face.

“One shot,” Jerry said. “Twenty-five hundred, and you walk out like nothing ever happened.”

Wade looked up at him. “And nobody knows it was me?”

Jerry gave him a reassuring smile. “Not unless you tell them.

Wade glanced around the room, drew a deep breath, then nodded. “Fine. One shot.”

“Great.” Jerry clapped his hands, and the tension finally broke. “Lea, bring our star a lemonade. Wade, head to your room, read the scene, and come back when you’re ready.”

In the small room, Wade sat looking at the title again: THE GREAT CONQUEROR.

He turned the pages slowly. When he finally looked up, he froze at the sight of himself in the mirror. A purple cape draped over his shoulders, fake gold armor gleamed across his chest, and sandals were strapped around his calves. A plastic crown sat crooked on his head, giving him the unmistakable look of a very ridiculous king. He tilted his head. The crown slipped farther to one side.

He stepped out of the room, hands trembling. The set was crowded with the crew waiting nearby; Wade tried to steady himself. He’d presented million-dollar projects to hundreds of engineers without blinking—so why did his legs suddenly feel like overcooked noodles?

Lea glanced over. “You okay?”

“No”

“Great”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the set. The lights hit him immediately. Then Wade noticed Maya, the actress in the scene; she was already dressed. She smiled at him. Wade smiled awkwardly back.

Jerry yelled from behind the cameras.

“Alright, quiet down! Scene seven, take one! And… action!”

Wade straightened his back; he approached the map on the table. He tried to sound like a powerful, manly king.

“Rome…” He cleared his throat. “It’s—it’s time to conquer you!” He said in a deep voice.

Jerry and Lea stared from behind the camera.

“Why does he sound like Batman?” she whispered.

“Shhh, let him do whatever he is doing,” Jerry said.

The scene continued. The tent door creaked open, and Maya walked in, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder. Wade tried desperately to remain in character. She moved slowly toward him, her dark, seductive eyes fixed on him. Kneeling before him as the script required, she reached out. Wade froze for half a second. She unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down along with his underwear. The entire set fell silent. Completely silent.

Maya stopped, her eyes lowered between his thighs; then she looked at Wade, then back down.

His small, pink penis hung soft against his little plump balls. She looked at Jerry and pointed at Wade’s crotch.

“Uh… Jerry? Is it supposed to look like this?”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s too small.” She said.

At that moment, the whole scene erupted in laughter, with people pointing at Wade’s tiny penis, snickering and muttering jokes to one another. Maya pulled her hand back and wiggled her pinky finger. Wade stood naked there in his ridiculous crown.

“Why is everyone laughing?” He said.

The laughter only got louder. Wade glanced down at his penis, then back at the crowd.

“Oh, come on—it’s soft! It gets bigger than that. I’m just nervous,” he said, with all the dignity a naked man in a plastic crown could have.

The room erupted again, louder this time.

Jerry tossed his headphones onto the table. “What is wrong with you people? Stop laughing!” he snapped.

The laughter gradually died down.

“Thank you,” Wade said, nodding, still embarrassed.

Jerry turned to him, glanced down, then quickly looked back up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly.

“Tell you what?”

Jerry gestured downward. “That you have a micropenis.”

Wade stared at him. “It’s not a micropenis.”

Jerry looked down again. “Well, based on what I’m seeing, it is.”

Wade couldn’t even speak; he was so humiliated.

“What are we supposed to do now? We needed a guy with a big dick for this scene. I thought you would be at least average. This is ruined!”

“Maybe not,” a voice interrupted them. Lea stood nearby, watching. Then she approached Jerry and whispered something in his ear, keeping her eyes on Wade.

Jerry grinned.

“That’s a fucking great idea.” He looked at Wade’s penis, then at his embarrassment. “Oh my god, that’s perfect.”

“What?” Wade said, covering himself. “What’s perfect?”

Lea came over to Wade with a confident smile, scooped up his trousers from the floor, and helped him get dressed, covering his exposed penis. “Come on, we have got a new role for you,” she said, steering him away from the laughing crowd. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

Wade glanced over his shoulder. “What was he smiling about?”

“Just relax. Go in and sit down. I will be back with a new script; it’s even easier than the last one.” Before Wade could ask anything, she cut him off. “Jerry’s going to give you three thousand dollars.”

Wade sat there, his face still burning. He was a joke—a pathetic 45-year-old man in a king costume, sitting in a porn set’s room and waiting for his next role.

—

Fifteen minutes later, the door creaked open. Lea returned with a new script and set it down in front of him. Wade glanced at the title: KING’S DOWNFALL.

The premise had changed: he was still a king, but no longer a powerful one—now he was defeated. The Queen of Rome was a warrior who had not only defeated the invading king but conquered him in the most degrading way possible. He read through the scene, and his mouth went dry. What unfolded on the page was a symphony of humiliation aimed at his deepest insecurity.

Lea stood beside him, smiling as she handed him the three thousand dollars. “So,” she asked softly, “are you ready, Your Majesty?”

Wade hesitated; he looked at the script, then at the money in his hands.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

Wade returned to the set, where the laughter had died. He took his place in the center, every eye on him. Jerry gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Wade stared back and mouthed, “Idiot.”

Jerry began counting, then shouted, “Action!”

The scene opened as Maya stepped through the doorway, now the Queen of Rome.

“So, this is the mighty king who thought he could conquer Rome,” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.

With a smirk, she strode toward Wade. “Look at you, hiding in this tent like a coward.”

Wade fell to his knees. “Mercy, my queen. I beg you—please forgive me.”

“Mercy?” She laughed sharply, the sound edged with mockery. Maya stepped closer, seized his cape, yanked it open, and sent it fluttering to the floor. Then she unbuttoned his trousers and dragged them down his legs, leaving him utterly exposed again.

The air struck him. He felt it against his thighs, his ass—and, worst of all, his penis. Goosebumps swept over his entire body. He longed to cover himself, but remembered: he was meant to stand naked.

She looked down at his small penis and burst out laughing.

“By the gods! Is that your royal scepter? It’s just a twig!” She pointed between his legs. “Is this the princess’s chamber? Because I only see a clit in front of me.”

Wade’s ears burned. Somewhere behind the lights, someone snorted. He kept his eyes on Maya; looking toward the crew meant facing forty people making fun of his size.

“Your soldiers must have gone out with you out of pity!” She moved around him, speaking mockingly.

His face flushed as he endured her insults.

“I have crushed villages,” she said, circling. “I have flattened armies. But this?”

She reached down, pinched his penis between two fingers, and lifted it as if it were a stray hair. He felt the absurdly light tug, and heat crept up his neck.

“A forgotten grain of rice.” She let go of his penis.

“You aren’t a king; you’re a joke. You’ve lost the war, and you are going to lose your honor.”

Jerry whispered to the cameraman to zoom in, making sure the camera captured Wade’s embarrassment. Humiliation washed over Wade in hot, sick waves, and the worst part was that every word was true.

—

The scene continued as Maya stood over Wade.

“What am I supposed to do with a little boy playing king—with a tiny, pathetic penis like that?” she said, her words leaving no room for an answer.

She knelt before him, her gaze fixed on his small balls. “And what am I supposed to do with these?” She flicked them with a dismissive finger, making Wade’s whole body flinch. “These little things, too. So soft, so small,” she said with a laugh.

Then she slapped him hard across the face.

He jerked his head to the side. His ear rang, and he blinked down at the floor, stunned. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet.

“You’re a little loser who lost everything.” Her voice dropped, low and theatrical, each word sharpened with cruelty.

Wade bowed his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Please… I’m sorry.” Tears gathered in his eyes, then spilled down his cheeks. He was crying—though he knew every tear was part of the act; something inside him churned with anguish. Thoughts of Luna cheating on him flashed through his mind, along with memories of being dragged from the office, the endless struggle to find work, and the shame of not being able to afford even a date.

Jerry was fascinated behind the camera; he knew Wade wasn’t a good actor, but this felt completely real.

“Look at yourself, crying like a little boy,” she said, her voice thick with disgust. She rose, glanced down at his one-inch penis, and spat on it. A glistening drop struck the head of his penis.

Wade’s hips twitched. His whole body wanted to curl.

“Your people will see their king defeated and degraded at my feet.” She drew back her foot and drove it into his balls.

Wade groaned in pain. This wasn’t in the script. He looked over at Jerry, who gave an approving thumbs-up.

“They’ll see what happens when a boy with a little acorn dares to challenge the Queen of Rome”.

On your back, you little worm,” she said, nudging him with her foot.

Wade fell on his back. His ass hit the cold floor, and then he was looking up at the lights, the ceiling, and Maya standing over him, as the whole world inverted.

She put her foot on his dick, pressing down. The camera zoomed in, capturing the Queen of Rome standing over the tiny king, her foot on his little shame.

“Say it,” Maya said.

“Say what?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“Say you’re a little worm.”

Wade felt the weight of her foot on his penis as she pressed down.

“I’m a little worm,” he said.

She pressed harder, and pain tore through Wade’s stomach.

“And say you’re sorry you were born with such a small, useless penis.”

Wade looked up at her, defeated.

“I am sorry I was born with a small, useless penis.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Cut! Perfect! Fucking perfect!” Jerry yelled.

The crew started clapping; Maya lifted her foot from Wade’s penis, smiling proudly. Wade lay on the floor, tears still streaming down his face. His naked body and tiny penis were still on full display for everyone to see.

Jerry walked over, helped him stand, and slapped him enthusiastically on the shoulder. Wade’s whole body shook, but the shock and the cold from the floor made his penis shrink even more, frozen and pulled up tight, his small, shrunken balls unable to move.

Lea walked over with a tiny blanket to cover him—though his ass remained exposed.

“Not bad for a beginner; you totally sold it,” she said.

Wade nodded, took the blanket, and covered his crotch.

“Thanks, man. Again, you really saved my ass today,” Jerry said. “We can send you a private clip if you want to…”

“No thanks,” Wade cut him off, turning on his heel and heading back to his room. Lea and Jerry watched him walk as his bare butt jiggled with each step.

Wade returned home long after dark. He locked the damaged temporary door behind him and checked it twice. In the living room, he dropped his keys and jacket, then sank onto the couch. His whole body ached, but the pain in his head was worse. He sat for several minutes, staring at the wall. He asked himself.

“Was it worth it?”

He rubbed his head, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the three thousand dollars. He looked at the money for a moment, and then his expression changed.

He picked up his phone. Samantha’s message was still open where he’d left it, unanswered for three hours: “I was wondering if you’re free this weekend. Maybe we can hang out.”

Wade stared at it for a moment, then at the money. He typed with both thumbs, without pausing to reread: “I was thinking Italian food. What do you think?”

He sent it.

He set the phone face-down on his chest and closed his eyes. For the first time in nine weeks, he smiled.

The End.

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