Chase hadn’t heard from his buddy Marshall in over a year. There was a time they hung out a fair bit, but ever since he had a covert pass at the cutie, they’d been distant.

Couldn’t blame him for taking his chances. Chase had a crush on his sometime best friend ever since they met. Marshall was short but perfect – with puppy eyes, a fulsome beard, and a pert bubble butt. Stinky and hairy like men should be. Chase knew he was straight, and Marshall knew Chase was gay, but they found themselves lying side by side on Marshall’s mattress in the moonlight all the same.

No words were needed. Staring at the boy across the pillows, Chase’s eyes did all the talking. When Marshall caught sight of his pal’s loaded gaze, he switched the drunken chat they’d been sharing to a whole bunch of garbled nonsense about some girl he’d been recently fascinated with – neutralizing the gayness and making his position clear.

A neat put-down, executed without any malice. After that, they drifted apart. Until now.

Marshall missed him, and it was his suggestion they catch up over a pint. Sliding into a booth at the Greenbank, they bantered and gabbed like no time had passed at all. Felt so great to be together again. Time flew by, and several pints later, the conversation settled into some more serious matters.

“You seeing someone at the moment?” Chase enquired – putting his feelings aside, genuinely interested to hear about the fit lad’s love life.

“Nah,” Marshall shook his head.

Perhaps it was always his intention they should eventually talk about girls. Marshall needed to get something off his hairy chest, and who else was there to talk to? Chase would understand. He was always there for him, so sympathetic and kind – a true friend.

“Women don’t want short guys,” he continued, suddenly overcome with the heavy sadness that had afflicted him the past year, “It’s hard enough even to get a date. And then…”

He broke off, staring into his pint as if the amber liquid might show him a parallel world in which he wasn’t ghosted on dating apps because of his height or stung with rejection over his other crucial shortcoming.

“And then what?” Chase asked gently, thinking that Marshall was on the verge of opening up about something huge.

As it turns out, Marshall was opening up about something tiny. He looked so sad and beautiful, his eyes sparkling with doubt. Chase really wanted to be there for him, to be his best friend when he needed it most,

“You can tell me anything, Marshall,” he offered.

Slowly, Marshall lifted his face. He was ready to cry. Tears glittering as they wobble on his lids.

“And then they see my penis,” he concluded emotionally.

On cue, a teardrop rolled down his cheek, dragging a sob and a load of salty water down with it and splashing off his sleeve. Having finally confessed this terrible secret, the floodgates were open, and his worries tumbled over one another to be heard.

“It’s so small, Chase. It’s tiny. It’s pathetic. It’s a micropenis. Girls laugh at it. They laugh! Sometimes, Girls fake orgasms. Some Girls walk out. I never see them again if they find out how small and useless I am.”

Lost for words, Chase could only put his arm around the boy, and Marshall sank into his hold, juddering silently as he wept. Chase never felt so conflicted and guilty. His heart really hurt for Marshall. He was the nicest, cutest guy in the world. Mother Nature can be cruel. But Chase also had a boner big enough to bust right out his shorts and slap them both in the face.

If Marshall had any idea just how much small penis porn his pal was burning through! Chase loved small dicks, the smaller, the better. Nothing got him hard and wet faster than a silly, chody little micropenis. And now his sexiest friend – his crush – was cuddling close, telling him how nice and tiny he was. Chase could faintly smell Marshall’s manly pits as he hugged the half-pint stud, wanting to kiss him there and then – to wipe his tears with one hand and place his fingertips on Marshall’s buried bellend with the other, teasing naughty drops of joy from his boy-clit.

“Marshall,” he dared to speak, ready to take his chances a second time. “Would you ever let a man love you?”

The boy didn’t answer, instead burying his head into Chase’s hoodie and holding him tighter.

“I’d never walk out on you,” he proceeded in a murmur, speaking directly to Marshall’s broken heart. “I’ll never walk out on your tiny peenie, babe.”

God knows Marshall needed to be loved. A stream of uncaring women had left him in pieces. Perhaps he was ready to try the love of a man? Before he knew it, they were kissing – slow and passionate, a kiss of surrender and affinity.

Later that night, when Marshall’s shy, one-inch stubby was bumping up against Chase’s long, meaty shaft, he realized this was where he belonged. So much nervous, lifelong curiosity about real cocks was his to explore under Chase’s patience and gentle care. Something so simple as grabbing a nice stiffy and giving it a wank. He’d never done it, forced to rub his masturbation out with two fingers like a girl.

And he’d never felt so wanted. The very thing that had always been so viciously scorned – his tiny penis was suddenly worshiped. Chase was giving him head like he’d never known, planting his hungry lips down and licking him out like his babydick was a little piece of heaven.

Mother Nature wasn’t being mean when she singled boys out to inherit her special gift. She was creating natural little faggots for hot gay Tops to adore, and Marshall was finally here to receive it.

‘Micropenis boys everywhere,’ he thought to himself as the cum jumped out of his babydick, splashing Chase’s tongue, ‘Give up on women! Find yourself a real man and be loved!’

 

The End.

 

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