Baby Dick Fiancé at the Bachelorette Party
By Small Dave.
Sylvia was dressed in a pink dress that showed her full breasts, no bra, her narrow waist, and her wide hips. She’d curled and dyed her hair and wore a gold necklace and low heels. I was still in my bath towel, unsure about the tight satin shorts and t-shirt she’d chosen for me to wear for the night.
Her friends were coming over to our house for a hen-night planning session. I was the only male allowed and was expected to answer the door, take their coats, serve snacks and drinks and look nice.
“Yeah but ‘Baby dick’? That’s not nice. It’s embarrassing.”
She kissed me and laughed. “It’s just a girl thing. We’ve got daft names for all the guys. Mike’s called ‘Gorilla,’ and Terry’s called ‘Horse.’ It’s affectionate. It means they like you.”
“But why ‘baby dick’?”
She giggled. “Why do you think?”
I went red.
“How do they know I’m a bit smaller than average?”
She gave me a look and rolled her eyes: “Dave, what have I told you about kidding yourself? It’s stupid, and I really don’t like it. Your dick isn’t ‘a bit smaller than average. It’s the smallest one I’ve ever seen. Accept it.”
“That’s not the point. How do all of your friends know?”
“We tell each other everything. It was the first thing I told them about you. Not in a bad way. When we first started dating, they wanted to know what you were like. I said you were adorable, very handsome, courteous, kind, intelligent, caring, you were clean, you didn’t smell, you made me laugh, you played the piano, owned a house and a car, you weren’t married, you weren’t gay, and you could cook. And my friends all looked at me and said, so he must have a tiny dick. What was I supposed to say? I can’t lie to my best friends.”
I muttered that I couldn’t be that small. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have agreed to marry me.
“Darling, I’ve agreed to marry you because I love you. Despite the size of your dick. It was a hard decision. But your persistence, your loyalty, your sweet, kind nature won me over. Most of my friends think I’m crazy. They know me as this tart always obsessed with some rough bastard with a massive cock. You have to understand how much I’m giving up to become your wife. And that’s a huge compliment. To you.”
She pulled my towel off and pinched my penis.
“So when my girlfriends call you ‘baby-dick,’ it shows how much they like you. They all think you’re great. They all said you must be the nicest guy in the world to have got me to give up fucking guys with big cocks. And they’re right. So put on those tight satin shorts, show them all how small your dick is, and make me proud.”
Just then, the doorbell rang. She slapped my bottom. “Quick. I need you to open the door.”
I dressed and ran downstairs. Three of Sylvia’s friends burst in and handed me their coats. Like Sylvia, they were tall, powerfully built women with big breasts and wide hips. They smiled affectionately at me and told me to give them a twirl so they could see my outfit. Sylvia walked into the hall, and they greeted her.
“We were admiring baby-d… I mean Dave’s lovely outfit. He looks adorable.”
I blushed with pride. Sylvia patted my bottom and smiled at her friends.
“Well, you wouldn’t believe the fight I had to get him into them. He was very silly. Weren’t you David? And now look how proud you are in your shorts. Go and hang the coats up and bring the glasses and champagne into the living room.”
As Sylvia led her friends into the house, I heard her tell them: “Seriously though he was very insecure about his small penis – very much what you were saying about small dick men – bless him….so please don’t tease too hard…” I heard laughter and the conversation became indistinct as I fetched glasses from the scullery.
They were very nice to me when I poured the drinks. They all told Sylvia how lucky she was and how cute and perfect I was. More friends arrived, and I answered the door, served drinks, brought snacks, and posed in my satin shorts until there were twenty women crowded into our living room.
No sooner had I emptied one bottle, more women were calling for their glasses to be filled. Some of them became very drunk and quite rude.
They all said I looked nice in my shorts, but some pinched my bum and grabbed my dick. They laughed at me and waved their pinky finger at me. By then, I was only referred to as ‘baby-dick.’ Even by Sylvia.
Plans for Sylvia’s hen night were discussed and argued and arranged as though I wasn’t there. They watched a video of a bachelorette party where the bride was fucked by a man with the most enormous cock I had ever seen in front of her excited girlfriends.
One of Sylvia’s friends saw me standing in the doorway, watching with my mouth open, and nudged her friend. I realized I was erect, small but prominent in my tight satin shorts. She motioned for me to sit on her lap. I did.
We watched a few more similar short films. In some of them, the bride-to-be was in her wedding dress. Imagining Sylvia like that made me even more turned on. It was dark, so I rubbed my erect dick through my shorts. They were too tight to get my hand inside to actually wank. I tried to pull my shorts down without anyone noticing gradually.
The woman whose lap I was on saw what I was doing. She whispered: “Hot isn’t it, baby-dick. I bet you wish that was Sylvia, don’t you.”
I looked at her and nodded. She helped me pull my shorts right down to my knees. My little dick was exposed. I tried to jerk with my fingers, but she slapped my hands and said no. She elbowed her neighbor to look at my erection. Soon a few women had seen and been trying to suppress giggles while the serious discussion about Sylvia’s hen night continued.
“Thing is, Sylvia. This has to be a celebration of what you’re giving up. It’s got to be a feast of big cocks. And you have the fuck of your life, maybe your last proper shag ever before you tie the knot with baby-dick Dave. And I don’t think a fake tan porn star is it.”
“I agree, Sylv. You could easily get 20 guys who’ve fucked you before who have much bigger dicks, who are dirtier, nastier, and sexier, and who would jump at the chance to fuck you one last time. I know 12 who have already said they would.”
“Yeah, but where would I hold it? You can’t just let 20 men fuck you on a table in a bar or a club.”
“Do it here! This is lovely. It’s plenty big enough. You’ve got bedrooms upstairs. And the garden. And you’ve got your own in-house waitress staff to serve drinks and wash glasses.”
“Yeah. Baby-dick has been very good tonight.”
“I can’t ask baby-dick: I mean Dave, my fiancé, to provide waitress service at my hen do, especially if I’m getting all my ex-boyfriends to fuck me! That would be too mean.”
The woman whose lap I was on spoke up: “I don’t know Sylv. I don’t think he’d mind. From what I can see, he’d love it!”
All eyes turned to me. Sylvia admonished me when she saw that I was naked and erect. “Oh, David. What are you doing?!”
The others all laughed.
“I think he’s looking forward to your hen night Sylvia.”
*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Just remember, even with the limited editing we do, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.