Humiliating My Stepbrother: Part 4

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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE

This fictional story is the artistic expression of the author who wrote it. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this story, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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by ©2013

Part 4…

After Jimmy’s humiliating ordeal with Ericka, I became hopelessly addicted to opening up his torment to other girls. It was satisfying to have him be the little object of my own personal mind games, but nothing compared to the gratification of seeing his ‘tininess’ exposed on a larger scale. But the problem of course was that I couldn’t do so directly without betraying my game and revealing that Jimmy’s inadequacy was entirely my own invention. I was patient, however; I was more than willing to play it cool and slow, feigning sympathy and tenderness while I plotted my next move.

In my spare time, I had started to take weekly art classes at our local junior college in the afternoon. It was basically a beginner to moderate talent level course that earned me college credit and was usually a pretty relaxed time while getting to know some young college kids (mostly artsy young women) At the end of each semester, we were assigned to do an independent project of our choice at our own time, with everyone’s finished piece displayed at an open house exhibition on some evening at the end of the year. With a little foresight, I devised a perfect way to use this for my next move against Jimmy.

“Hey little brother,” I said. “I know you’ve been pretty down lately, what with everything that went on with Ericka being so nasty about your… little problem.” He winced. I gave him constant, subtle reminders, but rarely mentioned it directly. “I think I have an idea that may take your mind of things a bit. It may even be fun!”

“Well, I just… I don’t want to go out and meet any more girls if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Oh, no sweetie, I know it’s been so hurtful learning what women think about boys like you who are lacking. This would just be you and me, the two of us only. What do you say?”

I explained that I needed help to complete my final project for art class, and if he would help out, it would be a nice way for us to spend time together. I was vague and skilfully evasive, telling him little about what it would entail.

He agreed. Bit by bit I revealed how my stepbrother would be of assistance. We just needed to work on a complete piece on our own time, and I just needed a subject. He wouldn’t even need to do anything, and we could do the whole thing right there at home by ourselves! He was reluctant, but eager to please at every point and it didn’t take too much convincing… until I had him all set up, ready for me to sketch.

“Okay, Jimmy. Thank you SO much, you’re such a life saver! I can’t wait to get started. Now why don’t you go ahead and take those clothes off for me?”

He sputtered, almost a comical double-take. “Off? ALL of them?”

“Of course, silly! What did you expect?”

“But you never mentioned anything about me being… being…”

“Nude? Oh Jimmy, haven’t you ever been to an art museum? Or even just a drawing or painting class? All the great works of art are nudes. That’s how artists learn the human form, how creative types express themselves.”

“I can’t do it, then. I can’t. I can’t. You know how embarrassing… THAT is for me. It’s been so humiliating already. I can’t have even more people knowing about…”

“About your tiny little nub? Oh hon, don’t you think I know that? I would never ask you to let anybody else know about your under-formed pee-pee. Don’t worry! This sketch will NOT have your face in it. Not any part of it, not one bit. I promise you, Jimmy. You trust me, don’t you? You know I would never do anything to humiliate you.”

It always brought such a warm, wicked internal smile to me knowing how easily my stepbrother would believe such a complete deception. As always, he acquiesced eventually. It was fun to see the token, feeble resistance, he would always express inevitably be worn down. If he just went along obligingly, I confess all this would be no fun; half the enjoyment was seeing how easily I could bend my stepbrother to my whims.

When he shed his underwear for the first time, I giggled as I always did. Periodically and methodically, I would be sure to ‘inadvertently’ let out a small laugh or unmistakably delighted smile, which I would immediately apologize for. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, little guy,” or, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help it,” or, “Oh gosh… You poor, poor, boy.”

I finished my sketch relatively quickly. For the bulk of the time, I simply kept Jimmy exposed before me while I pretended to tinker with the drawing. What was intoxicating what the way he never became even close to comfortable with the situation? It was never anything less than painfully, patently clear how ceaselessly humiliated he felt. How he would scrutinize every grin, every gleam in my eye. How he would suck in his breath in conspicuous mental agony whenever his dick and balls would shrivel slightly in the cold as I watched.

Everything became amplified in the silence, in the vacuum: each minuscule tilt of my head a harsh, unyielding judgment in his mind of his invariable deficiency, each glimmer of bratty amusement in my expression a piece of clear evidence for his inadequacy. His discomfort was made even more satisfying knowing poor Jimmy’s body was perfectly normal – but my persuasion that his genitals were minuscule was so convincing that it had practically become a reality for him. At last, after weeks of intangible torment, it was almost time for the exhibition. I made a production of putting the finishing touches on the canvas and expressed my gratitude.

“Oh, Jimmy, I appreciate your help so much! I’m so happy you were a part of this. And I can’t wait to have you with me for the group exhibition!” I said.

He drew in a sharp intake of breath. I did love it so much when he would sputter at the unexpected news! “Wait, wait a minute… I’m… I mean, I know I said I would help you, but I-I can’t come with you to the exhibition! Not when your sketch has me like… like this, and I would be seeing all your classmates in person!”

I made my best attempt at a reassuring smile. “Oh, is THAT what you’re worried about? Oh, hon, don’t you know by now how much I care for you? I PROMISED you I wouldn’t show your face in the piece, didn’t I? And I want you to feel doubly safe about your teensy little secret with me, so you know what I’m going to do for you?”

I ran my palm up and down his thighs. It didn’t take much – I didn’t even have to be directly in contact with his dick or balls – for him to start feeling that special tingle, and the instinctively associated feelings of obedience and shame I’d instilled in him. “What?” He said.

“I won’t attach your name to it at all. Not your first name, not your last name, not in the title or the description. As far as everyone is concerned, you’ll be there to support me and nothing more.” My fingers glided effortlessly to his balls. I could practically feel them tingling under my touch. Then his shaft, fully hard, almost instantaneously, and discernibly pulsating. “How’s that – oh, your adorable Itsy baby boy pee-pee is throbbing, isn’t it? How cute! How’s that sound, my little sweetie?”

His breathing was shallow, patchy. He was already close. My periodic allowances for his release had become more infrequent, and my poor stepbrother hadn’t been allowed to empty his balls in quite some time. My fingertips fluttered along his tip, bringing him close, but dangling him at the edge. “I g-g… Oh… I guess there’s no p-prob… uh, um… “

God, how incredibly erotic that I could reduce him to dopey incomprehensibility in minutes. I tapered off my strokes, not abruptly but gradually. “Oh, I’m so glad, Jimmy! You know how shy, I am – I just couldn’t do it if I didn’t have you by my side. I can’t wait. It’ll be so much fun!”

He wheezed slightly, groaned. He was in such desperate need to come, but my shy, bashful little victim just couldn’t bring himself to actually ask for it. All the better – I wanted him on the edge, dizzy and reeling by the time the show rolled around.


The exhibition was a relaxed but classy affair. Wine was provided for the older attendees, and younger students were excited to attend a sophisticated event like it. The class itself was mainly young, bohemian women; consequently their guests were mostly girlfriends eager for a chic night out, resulting in a largely female demographic. I had been holding court from the start, while Jimmy showed up a bit after the start. He was so cute, dressed up in the sort of semi-formal clothes he felt the evening required.

I waved him over and gave him a big, comforting hug as he arrived. “Jimmy!!” I exclaimed as I embraced him. “I’m so happy you’re here. Let me introduce you to some people.”

He had barely a chance to catch his breath or obtain a minimal comfort level before I showcased him to some key contacts. “Jimmy, hon, this is my good friend from the class, Emma.” Emma was the oldest and most unequivocally artsy in appearance from our group: black-framed glasses, a host of ornate tattoos, and an undeniably sophisticated sensibility. She acknowledged my brother coolly with a slight nod of her head. “Emma, this is my stepbrother: Jimmy Gellar.”

In a flash, a light seemed to click on and her expression changed from aloof to giddily amused. “Jimmy? Jimmy GELLAR you say?”

Jimmy nodded yes.

“Oh… So, so wonderful to actually meet you, Jimmy Gellar! I’m so very glad you could attend our tiny little event.” She looked him up and down, methodically and without reservation, in a way that unmistakably put him on edge. She leaned in close, lots and lots of body contact. “So glad you’re here,” she whispered. “It just wouldn’t have felt right to have this exhibition without you putting in just a very, very small appearance.”

He nodded his head in response, said all the right things, but with a barely disguised anxiety. He was clearly so intimidated and more than a bit confused. Both by the meaning of her words (indecipherable as it still was), but also at the sight of this unbelievably sexy, worldly woman, unlike anything he’d ever met. But before he could stop to consider or reflect, she was gone, and there was a new classmate to be introduced. “Jimmy!” I snapped my fingers, he was in such deep reverie. “Jimmy, this is another of my friends from class, Manda.”

“Zoe, it’s so good to see you! Your piece is so fantastic. Have you seen the crowd around it? It’s such a hit, everyone is talking about it!”

“Oh, that’s so nice to hear! Let me introduce you: Manda, this is my little baby stepbrother, Jimmy Gellar.”

Mandy was sharp and friendly, but had one of the more traditionally attractive appearances of anyone in class: blonde, bubbly, and just a little big giggly when something sets her off – as it just had. “Ooooohhhh,” she breathed, raising a hand to her mouth. “Hi, there, Jimmy. It’s funny. It’s – it’s so funny,” here she broke open in giggles, “that I feel like I know you in some way already.”

“H-how’s that?” He stammered. I could see that he was in awe of her. If this wasn’t a woman he was actually meeting, Mandy would be somebody he would be hopelessly drooling over silently across the room.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s just that Zoe has painted such a vivid picture… when she’s talked about you.” She practically launched herself at him for a hug. “Sorry to be so forward, little guy. Like I said, though, I just feel like I know you!”

Her hug was tight and intimate, and I could see her, pressing hard against his crotch, almost in the investigation. I could also see my poor stepbrother’s agonized reaction, attempting to draw away from her obvious inspection.

She parted ways, but I had another intro – I wanted not a second for Jimmy to recover from his reeling. This time, she came over and said hello to me before I could even find her. “Zoe,” she cried. It was our professor. We all called Professor Shen, Amy. She was a young Asian woman, probably in her 40’s, but looks younger than her actual age. A fresh, classic Asian beauty. As well as a consummate professional. “Zoe, how good to see you! I just NEED to tell you your artwork is just stunning! A truly fantastic project. Of course, there are so many wonderful pieces here tonight, but obviously, you can see the crowd around yours. Yours is truly provocative and thoughtful.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Amy, and I’m so glad you came by. This is my stepbrother, Jimmy Gellar,” I said indicating him.

She did a bit of double take herself. “Jimmy… Gellar, was it? Well… I suppose I didn’t expect that you would be here tonight. But, I’m so glad you made it little boy,” she cringed at herself at this, an inadvertent slip. “I meant, young man, of course.”

Jimmy was red. Crimson red. Burning red. He didn’t know what he had to be embarrassed about, but there was no question that he felt embarrassed. He nodded at Amy, and seemed to just step out of the way.

“Zoe,” Amy said, “We’re almost at that time. Everyone is preparing to deliver an artistic statement about their work. You have such a packed crowd at your sketch. Would you like to go first while they’re gathered?”

I agreed. And I began to follow her in the direction of my drawing before Jimmy could even bring to light the point that he had never been told there would be statements made. Without a word, Jimmy trailed behind me to my piece. When we reached it, what he saw made him gasp, nearly doubled over in raw excruciating discomfort.

“W-What… W-What did you… I… You drew me?” Jimmy sputtered adorably, pathetically in confusion.

I, of course, had no doubts what his confusion sprang from. The lifelike charcoal drawing had, just as I promised, cut Jimmy off at the neck, leaving no identifying trace of his face. His torso, arms and legs were captured accurately. It was a very faithful recreation: except for one key divergence. My stepbrother’s penis were rendered at minuscule proportions. It was a normal teenage boy’s body, with the scale of genitals on would expect on a baby – microscopic, minuscule, itsy-bitsy, puny. In short, it was the sort of manhood entirely on par with what I had been TELLING my stepbrother he possessed, though not at all with what he actually had.

I convincingly played dumb. Not just dumb, but a bit hurt. “What’s wrong, honey? You don’t like my drawing? Did I not do a good job?” I pouted.

“No! No, it looks fine, mostly but… Zoe! W-why did you draw me…” he pointed to the canvas to his undersized dick

“Your little baby dick, sweetie?”

“Yes, m-my b-b-babydick. You made it… oh my god, you made it so tiny!”

I feigned a look of disbelief, then of understanding. “Ohhhh, Jimmy. Oh, you poor, sweet little boy. Sweetie, when you look down at yourself, at your teensy undeveloped boyhood… Do you still see a normal sized cock? In your head, does it look like a real man’s penis, and not like a baby boy micro pee-pee?”

Once again, he sputtered, this time not in surprise but pain. “Well, it… It doesn’t look like that!”

The well-dressed throng that had gathered around the piece was positively buzzing, regarding the piece with an equal mixture of fascination and deep amusement. Chuckles and delighted gasps could be heard periodically. I placed a comforting hand on his shoulders. “Oh, Jimmy,” I said. “You can’t possibly still believe that, can you? After measuring your widdle wee-wee and showing you how far, FAR below average you are? After so many girls saw what you had in your pants and made fun of your hopeless inadequacy? Jimmy, baby, this (I pointed to the drawing) is what you have. I’m sorry you don’t see it, but this is what you look like.”

Crestfallen doesn’t begin to describe poor Jimmy’s expression. It was a jagged pill for him to swallow, but I had laid out a convincing case. His gaze dropped to the floor, but I gently ran a finger along his cheek and raised his chin for him to look directly at the canvas. “Don’t look away,” I said lovingly. “This is you. You can’t escape your laughable, pathetic under-endowment.”

After sufficient time, I drew my stepbrother closer and kissed him on the cheek. “I know it’s hard to accept,” I whispered. “I know it would be much easier to just go on believing you’re a normal boy with a normal dick. But we’ve talked about this. The only way you can truly be comfortable with yourself in the end is if you accept it for what it is.”

Acceptance was clearly a ways away, but that didn’t stop the feeling of pure shame that clearly registered across his face. Before he could say anything, Amy motioned for me to step up and address the crowd.

“Excuse me, everyone,” she bellowed, “Could I have your attention please? I’m so glad everyone is enjoying our little showing! We’d like to begin having our artists’ statements, and since everyone is gathered here, this seems like great place to start. I’d like to bring up the creator of this work that we’re enjoying, entitled: The Secret Shame of J.G.

I made sure to sneak a peek at my stepbrother at these words and was rewarded by seeing him turn sheet white. Suddenly, Manda and Emma’s palpable entertainment at his introduction made sense: I may have kept my promise to leave his face out of it, but there was no question of the connection that ran through their minds when I introduced one Jimmy Gellar.

I stepped forward to deliver my statement. “Thank you so much, everybody. I’m so happy everyone could come out to our show. With this piece, I wanted to juxtapose a young man with a traditionally confident and masculine pose and body against the contrast of genitals that couldn’t be more opposite of what we term ‘masculine’. The male sense of identity – not just of identity but of his very gender – is so inextricably linked with the size of his penis that my subject, with his clear inadequacy and undeniably deficient endowment, represents an utter failure to project anything even remotely akin to manhood. It reflects a secret shame at his very core that no public posturing or outwardly masculine persona could mask.

“At the same time, I wanted to defuse these rather complex issues with a degree of humour, frankly, because to not do so in this case is simply not possible. The condition of Ji… That is, of J.G., is indisputably laughable.”

At this, an audible giggle went through the audience. Nearly all of the young women in attendance flashed with humour, with the kinder ones reflecting something like pity. It was easy to spot the lesser endowed guys in the crowd, because while they tried to coolly play along, their discomfort at all this was clear. I continued, “There simply isn’t a way to view my subject’s deformity, his shameful, minuscule lack, as anything but comical in some way, even as we may also regard him with some amount of pity.”

My stepbrother’s every movement was the embodiment of humiliation. He may have been ostensibly fully dressed, but it was as if he was completely exposed in front of the group, his privates (or at least my twisted version of them) on full display while an entire room full of mostly females giggled to themselves while they discussed and reflected on his shortcomings right in front of him. And I was just about to make it even worse…

“So I hope you all appreciate both the tragedy and…” I chuckled lightly with a gleam in my eye, “The comedy inherent to this piece. Please enjoy the rest of the show. Before I go, I just want to acknowledge someone who’s here tonight.”

Jimmy could start to see where this was going and his expression quickly shifted from embarrassment to horror. “He’s so close to me, and I just wanted to thank him – my stepbrother – Jimmy Gellar.” There was a bubbling ripple, a quietly growing murmur, as the notion started to build among the audience. J.G. is Jimmy Gellar. “I’m so glad he’s here tonight, because honestly, he was SO important to the creation of this piece. I could not have done this drawing without him.”

I said nothing that could have been a definitive word, but Jimmy could see the possibility gradually enter everyone’s minds. Some of bolder, more unabashed girls turned and looked over him head to toe, pausing with a twinkle in their eyes as they reached his crotch. I pretended to be obvious to it, but there was no mistaking it: a whole roomful of people were scrutinizing poor little Jimmy, imagining a teensy, hilariously tiny nub in his pants. Giggly young women whispered in each other’s ear. Grins of judgment and amusement greeted him, and he could do nothing but stand there, while his face grew a deeper and deeper shade of crimson.

And as he stood there in profound agony, I noticed him slump over and slouch forward awkwardly. He was getting a boner. In his darkest, most humiliating moment yet, my conditioning had taken over and he was getting an incredibly mortifying stiffie in his pants. It had also been so long since I had last allowed him release, all the while teasing him with my words while sketching him. He bit his lip, doing his best to hide it. Throughout the consistent murmur of the crowd, audibly snickering utterances like, “Never seen anything so tiny,” and, “God, it’s like a little light switch,” rose above the din as the crowd turned their attention back towards the drawing.

At last the excruciation ended, and the attendees gave me and my work a hearty round of applause. My artist statement was only the first one given, so poor Jimmy had to continue to drift with the crowd as the remainder of the group delivered their addresses, curious smirking girls periodically sneaking a peek back at him.


By the end of the night, Amy and the students were congratulating themselves on a successful evening, and Jimmy looked as deflated and beaten as he possibly could be. I had plans to push his torment even further however.

I pressed myself against him. He still would always flinch just slightly in shyness at the bodily contact. “Sweetie, wasn’t that so much fun? Oh, thank you so much for being here, little brother! I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I-I’m glad it went well for you. I think we should be heading home, r-right? Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, no Jimmy – we have to stay! A few of the girls want me to go out for dinner after the show, and you’re invited! Emma even told me she’d try to sneak us a couple glasses of wine.”

“I really, I really don’t know Zoe. I’d prefer not to, really. I’m pretty – pretty tired.”

“Oh, please, baby brother?” I squeezed closer.

My little black dress ended just below my thighs, and I pressed my bare knee lightly against his crotch. He hardened quickly in response. “This is has been such a stressful project to complete, we just want to blow off some steam and celebrate. It’ll be fun, I promise!”

I knew that my stepbrother wouldn’t be able to resist for long, and that I would keep my promise that it WOULD be fun. Fun for me, that is.


The restaurant was a perfect classy venue, understated, dark and elegant without being stuffy. Besides Emma and Manda, there were two other girls from our group: Ellie, the shyest of us, a very sweet and quiet girl-next-door brunette who came out of her shell only when coaxed; and Val, a dishwater blonde hippie type with energy to spare who tended to dominate conversations. It was a lively group from the start, with the girls eager to gossip and swap stories about the class and our classmates.

Jimmy and I took the booth side of our large oval table, and I made sure to press close to him. It wasn’t long – especially with my subtle steering – before the conversation turned to my art piece. We were earnest students, serious in our studies, but it was no surprise with for a group of young college girls, the hot topic of discussion would eventually reveal itself as the most prurient one.

“Gosh, I can’t stop thinking about your sketch, Zoe,” Val gushed. “It’s like you said in your statement: I feel bad for the poor guy, but I just can’t keep myself from laughing at his little dickie!”

“Zoe,” Manda said in a modest whisper, “I meant to ask you… Was that… Was that REAL? I mean, you must have been exaggerating how tiny his thingy is, aren’t you? No boy is really that teensy, is he?”

As much as he tried to conceal it from the group, I could feel Jimmy squirm next to me in his seat. “It was absolutely, positively, 100% true-to-life, honey. I know it’s hard to believe, but I want to unembellished truthfulness to be part of the narrative. If anything, I actually made it a bit bigger than the little thing really is, just because the subject is such a nice boy and I felt sorry for him.” My stepbrother winced at this piece of information. At each mention of my subject, I watched, curious eyes turn to Jimmy, sizing him up and wondering. But without a true confirmation of the fact, the girls still had enough deniability to be brutally candid and cruel right in front of the poor thing.

Val gasped a bit. “God, I had wondered the same thing. It’s true, I seriously feel so bad for that pathetic, tiny boy, but…” Her voice descended into cackling giggles, “But it’s just too funny, I honestly can’t help it. He’s like a miniature! I feel so bad laughing!”

Emma’s eyes twinkled in amusement behind her black-framed glasses. “I don’t,” she said, and grinned. “Come on ladies, I’ve gone home with way too many big talking ‘men’ only to be completely disappointed by the babydick surprise.”

The table erupted in laughter at this. “Babydick,” exclaimed Val, the term obviously a new one to her.

“I’ve seriously wanted to laugh them out of bed,” Emma continued, “but had to hold back out of some horrible sense of decorum. I even went through with it once or twice – oh my god, you can’t even imagine! It seriously felt like he was fucking me with his pinkie finger. Every time he thrust, I wanted to burst out laughing. I was so mad at myself for going through with it, but mostly with that pindick for tricking me into believing he had the proper equipment. I may not have laughed in his face then, but hot damn, I’m sure going to have a good laugh about it now!”

The table was cracking up with laughter at Emma’s brazenness, with intermittent howls at terms like ‘pindick.’ Bashful little Ellie was blushing hard at how scandalous the discussion had turned, but even she was biting her lip in mirth. Beside me, each and every word was like a dagger for Jimmy and once again, despite being dressed I could see it was just as humiliating for him as if he were standing fully naked on the dinner table for us.

I could see Val pick up on his discomfort. Of course, there was no way to be sure about his role, as it could certainly have simply been the discomfort of a teenage boy privy to an extended discussion involving penis size. But, as I knew she would, Val was audacious enough to playfully press him in an oblique way.

“What about you, Jimmy?” She asked. “After all, you’re the only boy here. What if you had an itsy dicklette like that? How would that be for you? I feel like I would just die. Do you have any experience with a micro-cock like that? I mean…” She let all sorts of implications sink in before continuing, “Seeing other guys in the locker room, of course?”

I let my palm find its way to Jimmy’s leg, and lightly stroked his thigh over his pants. It was dark enough with the table concealing my movement for my actions to be hidden to the group. I let the gesture resonate as protective, loving. “W-well,” he said, “I don’t – I mean, we don’t really look at each, at each other w-when we-“

“Oh, that’s right,” Val interrupted. “I forgot boys have their little code of conduct for that sort of thing. ‘Don’t look in the locker room!’ ‘Don’t speak while you’re at the urinal!’”

“Mmmm, if I had free reign in the boys locker room you can bet I’d be checking out each and every one of their packages,” Manda exclaimed. “Putting that search out for the guy who’s packin’!”

“Isn’t it so unfair that we girls don’t get to know what we’re dealing with downstairs until it’s too late?” Emma added. “We NEED to be allowed in the locker room! I want to get to know who the well hung guys are… and who would end up being a horror show like Mr. Babydick back there.”

I let my palm drift further downward in ‘comfort,’ tracing circles on my stepbrother’s thighs. “Wait, wait,” said Val. “Is that right? MISTER Babydick? Wouldn’t MISS be closer to the truth?” An eruption of laughter. My fingertips ‘accidentally’ brushed the head of Jimmy’s cock. It was rock hard, just as I knew it would be after words of such abject humiliation. I shot him a look of surprise (which was met with an expression of shame) but I didn’t take my hand away.

Ease of free flowing conversation and generous amounts of wine had loosened everyone’s tongues and relaxed their reservations by now; where they had taken care to tiptoe around their words earlier, the girls were unequivocally giggly and pulled no punches in their assessment at this point. “What if you had just called your piece ‘Miss Babydick’, Zoe?” Val laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a more accurate title?”

“But then her little baby boy subject would hear the title,” Emma said, “And probably just cry himself to sleep! And then…” she was cracking herself up, stumbling on her words, barely able to speak over her laughter. “Jerking-off his teeny tiny little dickie with his tears after he realized that’s all his widdle stub is good for!”

Beneath the table, I slowly let my comforting circles change to caress Jimmy’s rigid penis. Before he was aware of the shift, I rhythmically stroked his cock, feeling it throb in increasing urgency. His breath grew choppy.

The girls were raucously enjoying themselves too much to catch on, but that didn’t stop a petrified expression from forming on Jimmy’s face. “Emma!” Cried Val. “You’re soo mean! I’m sure that his teensy baby carrot is good for something.” A pause for effect. “Like picking locks, or flossing!”

More shrieks of laughter. Poor Jimmy’s ‘undersized’ endowment had become the evening’s main entertainment. His dick fully rigid in involuntary response, I waited for no sign of consent before unzipping my stepbrother’s pants below the table. His neck jerked towards me and I could see him pleading with his eyes for me not to continue. I simply raised an eyebrow and the message was clear: you want this. You need to come so badly, and if you didn’t want it, your cock wouldn’t be rock hard right now.

The table with still echoing with guffaws. With everyone catching their breath, Val noticed Ellie, despite her uncontrollable laughter, doing her best to contain her blushing scarlet cheeks. Because Val was always one to playfully prod the shyest of the group, she pressed her: “What about you, girl? I think your soul is too generous for us scandalous types. Would you be cool with going to bed with sad little micro-peen?”

“Ummm… NO!” She said it hesitantly, but decisively.

“Uh oh,” said Manda, “That sounded a little bit TOO certain. Does somebody speak from experience?”

“Ohhhh…” Ellie realized she had given something a bit too personal away. “Well, maybe… “

“Okay, okay,” said Emma. “You can’t leave us hanging like that! Out with the story!”

“No, no, no, I can’t,” Ellie said turning bright red.

“Oh yes, yes, yes you can! You’ve got to spill it. Come on,” Emma said.

“Ummm…” Ellie is such a reserved, modest girl, but it was obvious a part of her was dying to tell it. Unfortunately for my humiliated stepbrother, that part of her had had just enough wine to be given free reign. “Okay, okay!” Ellie said. “This was a while ago, in my freshman year.” We all lean in, with a hush falling over everyone compared to how rowdy it had been. “I was dating this guy, Peter. We met during orientation, and he was the sweetest guy. Just as shy as me, so both of us were totally happy staying in and watching Netflix when everyone on our floor was going out to party.

“I kind of wanted to take things slow, and not rush into… well, you know, since college was so new to me. And I was really surprised, because Peter was all for it, and was totally cool with waiting a little bit. At the time I thought it was just another way he was the sweetest boy ever, but now, looking back.

“Anyway, after a few months, I finally thought it was time, and I was so excited. Seriously, he was such a great, great guy – perfect kisser, amazing body, I couldn’t wait – I mean, I REALLY couldn’t wait. And so he took me out to a romantic dinner, we went back to my dorm while my roommate was out of town for the weekend and we got to it and… “

Ellie’s face contorted into a disgusted grimace. Jimmy throbbed in my palm.

Ellie continued, “It was… awful. I mean, I’m not all that… experienced, but it was absolutely microscopic. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I’m not kidding you guys, it was the size of my pinkie – and I don’t even mean my pinkie finger, I mean my pinkie toe.” Ellie’s captive audience erupted in laughter. “And of course I had to go through with it. I couldn’t be a total bitch and just kick him out after everything, but it was like… Oh my god, it was like being fucked with a tampon!”

I could feel an orgasm intractably building in my stepbrother. He was stiffer than he had been all night – something about the story coming from sweet, shy Ellie. The harsh words of judgment coming from such an undeniably “nice” girl, embedding in Jimmy the idea that there was NO getting away from sort of reaction.

“And I knew it was over, but I wanted to draw it out, to wait at least a few weeks to break up so it wouldn’t be obvious that it was over the horrible, gross sex. But I just couldn’t. You guys remember Zoe’s drawing? His totally similar kind of Tootsie roll dick was all I could think of with him. I couldn’t take him seriously, I couldn’t consider him a man anymore. And the idea of waiting a few more weeks and possibly having to suffer through sex with that minuscule baby pee-pee… Ugh, it made my stomach turn.

“The poor guy, he was practically in tears when I told him. I made up some excuse, but he obviously knew exactly why I was dumping him. When my roommate Olivia got home, I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I mean, it’s not the sad little guy’s fault, right? But I had to tell her we had broken up, and she knew how perfect we were together and she just wouldn’t let it go until I finally told her the truth. And ooh gosh, did she ever laugh! She thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, and eventually both of us had to just laugh and laugh and laugh about him.”

The laughter from years ago by Ellie and Olivia, and the laughter echoing right that moment from Manda and Emma and Val was ringing in Jimmy’s ears and I could tell that for him it was like they were pointing and laughing uncontrollably not at Peter or at my drawing but at him, right then and there. “When I told her, Olivia started referring to him as Little Pinkie Peter, and from then on we both would always call him Little Pinkie Peter or Little P.P.

“I made her promise not to tell anyone, but she’s such a gossip I know she told blabbed to a few girls. Whenever I would call her on it, she would always tell me, ‘Oh, I was thinking about dating Little P.P.’ I had to give her a warning. Poor ‘Pinkie Peter’, I don’t think he got a single date the rest of the semester because of Olivia. I told them it was so mean, but it became a running joke between all the girls who knew to flash a little pinkie finger right behind his back. I feel bad, but…” Ellie shuddered. “It was just like Zoe’s subject J.G. So tiny. Absolutely infant sized, not something that belongs on a grown man. A total joke of a teensy little babydick.”

Her final words pushed Jimmy over the edge. I stroked up and down the shaft, vigorously. He bit his lip and his eyes rolled back while our entire group burst into elated claps and laughter over Ellie’s story. Burning with humiliation, feelings of complete worthlessness driving his profound pleasure, he came in front of the circle of unaware girls. I felt his body brace against mine, and he practically wilted almost immediately afterwards.

He returned slowly back to mindfulness as if coming back from a daze. The intense, burning arousal having faded, all that remained was the shame. He scoured discretely beneath the table, doing his best to make sure evidence of his outburst hadn’t landed anywhere conspicuous – or worse, on any of the ladies. The girls were winding down their merriment themselves, following Ellie’s hard-to-top tale. “Oh-my-gosh, Ellie, I didn’t know you had it in you,” Manda giggled. “God, what a great story.”

“And don’t feel bad about it, girl!” Val said. “Sure, the poor guy can’t help it, but why should you be punished with a lifetime of unsatisfying sex because of his deficiency? It’s not exactly NICE for your friends to give him the pinkie salute behind his back, but if it keeps them from having to settle for an awful fucking from his little clitty dick, then why not?”

The evening wound to close shortly afterwards. Shell shocked Jimmy did his best to fulfil the remaining social obligations before saying his goodbyes to the giggly girl group. The minute we were alone, I play acted an Oscar-worthy apology for the torment my stepbrother had to endure. But I added, “Well, at least it should bring you closer to finally believing what I’ve been telling you about how undeniably lacking your little thing is. And that will bring you one step closer to accepting and coping with it!

The End.


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