Converted: Small Penis Humiliation
By Redolf.
Lisa and I had just started up, and talk came around to body parts. “So,” she asked, whatcha got going on below?”
I was startled by her directness but understood what she meant. “Oh, I am probably about average, I guess.”
“Like how average? I know all guys measure themselves. How many inches?” she asked.
“Five inches, I guess,” hoping she doesn’t either laugh or hit the door.
“Yeah, you’re right about average. I have been with bigger, though,” she said.
I gulped. I had known there were bigger but thought I was ok. I hoped this wouldn’t end things with us.
“But that’s ok,” she said, “no biggie, oops! I’m good. Have you heard of SPH?”
I shook my head.
“That’s ok. I can teach you! You are going to become my SPH man!” she declared proudly.
“What is SPH?” I ask nervously.
She began, “SPH is small penis humiliation.”
“But my penis is ‘average,'” I object.
“I know,” she said, “but I will teach you to think otherwise! You’ll believe you have a small penis when I am done with you. I will tease you relentlessly about your small penis, and you will learn to love it. You will learn to crave it. You will learn not to be turned on without this teasing. And, if you ever leave me, you will be embarrassed to show your little penis to the next girl. Nothing she can say will convince you. Otherwise, you will be so convinced deep down. It will be fun! You’ll see! You’ll like the change I make in you, my little dick man!”
I sat dumbfounded by the idea and wondered how this would happen. ‘Yeah, right!’ I think to myself skeptically.
And then it began.
My conversion.
She began removing my clothes. It wasn’t long before I was fully stripped, and she remained clothed. She had worked so quickly that I wasn’t yet fully erect.
“Sorry, I don’t see 5 inches!” she said playfully.
“Oh, it is. It just isn’t hard yet!” I assure her.
“Well, first thing, this pubic hair needs to come off! Get the clippers and a razor! I am going to make you hairless! That is the first step in the process.”
I oblige and hear the buzz of the clippers and see tufts of my bush hitting the floor, row by row. Then she lathers me up and takes the razor to take the rest. Row by row, bare skin is exposed. I don’t seem to have a say in the matter. Before long, I look down, and my average-sized penis and balls are completely bald.
“There! That is so much better! I can see your little penis and little balls so much better now!” she exclaims.
“But my dick and balls are perfectly average!” I object.
“Sure they are!” she says mockingly. “You’ll see! We are just beginning. You aren’t there yet. I will get you there!”
She then took some lube, and between a too-loose grip and starting and stopping, she began giving me the least satisfying handjob ever, telling me that I had a nice-sized dick and large manly balls.
But that was a part of the plan. She was associating size compliments with frustration and limited pleasure.
After 10 minutes of a lackluster handjob, she shifted gears. Her grip tightened. Her other hand started giving my nuts a thorough working over…and she began to talk…differently this time.
“There, how does this feel, baby? Do you like how I am squeezing your little dick and tiny hairless balls? It feels good, doesn’t it!”
“But they aren’t little!” I object again.
“Shhhh!” she says, placing her finger on my lips. “Don’t talk. I’ve got this.”
Reluctantly, I bite my tongue. “They are just words,” I tell myself. “It doesn’t change anything.” But meanwhile, from the worst handjob ever to the best, I can live with and ignore whatever she is saying.
Except I couldn’t.
She knew exactly what she was doing. I didn’t realize it then, but she was imprinting pleasure with the teasing and frustration with the compliments.
For the next couple weeks, she would alternate, sometimes teasing first, sometimes compliments first. Sometimes back and forth. My brain didn’t know what would happen when, but subconsciously, she was rewiring me that the teasing and pleasure went together.
It wasn’t long before the urge to object to the teasing was gone. I hadn’t internalized it yet, but I got to where I didn’t mind. Pleasure is pleasure, after all.
When she began the teasing, it was almost incidental. She would use the words “little” and “tiny” whenever she referred to my stuff. Nothing brutal, but just gradually getting me used to hear it. She knew what she was doing.
After a couple of weeks of mentioning, she began taking it up a notch. I had already become conditioned to tolerate hearing my penis and testicles routinely called small. It became comforting because the pleasure was so much.
So, taking it up a notch, she reduced the compliment phases, eventually skipping them. Then, she started with some new phrases…
“Oh, baby! I love your little penis!”
“Oh, your little penis is so cute!”
“Your tiny balls are adorable!”
“I love your little hairless package! It is so cute!”
“I am glad my man has a little dick! I love that little dick of yours! I am so glad you have a little penis and such little balls!”
“I am so lucky to have a man with a little package! It looks so cute!”
Then finally…
“You know, when I said your package was average-sized, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You know that, right? Your stuff is little. We both know that. It’s ok, but it just is. You have a little dick, and your testicles are tiny. They are smaller than any other guy I have been with. I like how cute they are, though. They’re just little. They just are.”
So, after a couple more weeks of enhanced teasing and acclimation, it was time to get me involved.
It was one thing for her to label me while I was getting pleasured. Then real-live “reality checks” flood me with expressions of my supposed lack of size. But, to make it “stick,” I had to confirm it myself.
So, instead of just her words, she began prompting me for my agreement. It started with “uh huh” and nodding. Once she got me used to that, she took me further. She wanted admissions and confessions from me.
“Tell me you have a little penis!”
“I want to hear you admit that you have a small penis! I know you have a small penis. You know you have a small penis. I want to hear you admit it! Tell me!”
“Tell me about your little testicles! They’re tiny, aren’t they? Tell me!”
She loved hearing me admit those things. At first, it was just words, but after saying the words myself, from my lips, the words gradually started getting internalized. My perceptions began to change. I started believing those words. She had taught me that there was nothing to be afraid of. I was getting pleasure. Lots of pleasure. But eventually, my deep-down beliefs started matching my words.
To confirm everything, she matter-of-factly began validating my new beliefs even in non-sexual situations. Whether I was getting out of the shower or changing clothes, she kept with the talk. It wasn’t just playing. It was the reality.
“I hope you got your little dick clean!”
“Be sure to shave all of your pubic hair off! I want your little penis and nuts to stay hairless and smooth!”
“Just got done running? Look how little your little dick is now! Aww! It is so cute! Look at that little dick! Look how tight your little balls are! So cute! You are little, you know?”
Beyond playtime, everything confirmed I had a little penis and tiny balls. It became true.
Then, the next step was for me to ASK for the teasing. Not just tolerate it, but ask for it and ask for more of it.
At first, she prompted me, but then I started asking independently. I was beginning to enjoy it, need it, and crave it.
“Tell me I have a little penis!”
“I want to hear you tease me about my little balls! You know I have little balls! Tease me!”
“Am I smaller than your last boyfriend? The smallest you have ever had? Tell me! I am the smallest, aren’t I?”
“I love it when you giggle about my small size!”
“Give me the pinky sign! Give me the tiny penis sign! In public, I want you to flash the pinky sign to remind me.”
My transformation was complete. She was right. She took an average guy, who knew he was average, and she made me believe I had a tiny penis and balls. I no longer questioned it. They just were.
And not only did I believe it, but I also CRAVED it. I began to crave that humiliation. I loved it when she teased my little size. I needed her to tease me. I loved being reminded of how little I was. I loved being embarrassed in front of her. I loved going to the restroom and seeing my little penis differently. And I ultimately lost the ability to come without SPH. She truly changed me. I became her little dick man, and I loved it! Her teasing brought us together and taught me just as she intended!
The End.
*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, formatting errors, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed (That’s the author’s job). The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here. The size of the penis has been changed for here.