My Experience with Dick Shrinking
We had met at a local bar. Me and some friends were enjoying well-deserved drinks after a grueling and brutal exam period when she walked in looking for a break from the monotony of her daily routine. She sat beside me, ordered a whiskey, and initiated a conversation that would change everything. We talked about life, love, and everything in between, and soon enough, we found ourselves exchanging numbers and making plans for our first date.
My mates thought I was crazy, but they couldn’t deny Maria’s charm or beauty. And as it turned out, neither could I. Our relationship blossomed quickly. She was more than eager to take my virginity, showing me the ways of pleasure and desire like no one else had before. But there was something different about her—she had an air of experience that only came with age, a wisdom that spoke volumes beyond her years.
As she made a pretty penny in finance, she soon argued that I move in with her once our relationship became serious. I didn’t have any objection to it. My two-room apartment couldn’t compare to Maria’s luxurious penthouse, but I was happy just being near her. And so we settled into a routine that would define us for months: work and study by day, pleasure by night. My mates often complained about how difficult it was to bring a girl to orgasm. Still, Maria made me feel like the luckiest man alive as she taught me new ways of lovemaking every single time. She knew what she wanted and never hesitated to take it.
One evening, while flipping through channels on TV, we stumbled upon a late-night report about an ancient tribe in South America. An obscure offshoot of Olmecs, they were known for their heavy use of drugs, plants, and rituals. It permeated every facet of their society, from birth to death. The presenter spoke of how men would take some plant or other to hunt better and how women would chew others to increase fertility. But one practice caught our attention—the shrinking of penises as part of a coming-of-age ceremony.
As it was not uncommon in the ancient world (Ancient Greece comes to mind), small penises were seen as the ideal of male beauty. Big penises were vulgar for this tribe, and the cultural norm was to keep them small and compact.
Maria’s eyes lit up at the mention of such a practice. She seemed captivated. No, she was entranced by the idea of her man having a smaller member. It wasn’t just about control or dominance but something more primal, an innate desire that only she could explain. As we watched, I saw the passion ignite within her—a hunger that couldn’t be ignored.
“Imagine,” she whispered in my ear, “a man so devoted to his woman that he would shrink himself for her pleasure.”
I shuddered at the thought and yet felt myself harden. Maria was always one step ahead of me, reading my desires before they formed. I felt her hand on my crotch, rubbing it gently as if feeling its size. She leaned closer, her lips almost touching mine.
“Would you do it for me?” she asked, her voice low and husky.
My heart raced with excitement. The idea of reducing myself for Maria’s pleasure was a turn-on beyond belief. But did I dare? Would I truly be willing to go through such an act to please her? My penis wasn’t the biggest, but it was certainly not small. If I could, I would make it bigger, not smaller. Yet, there was something about Maria that made me want to give in, to surrender my control and serve her every desire.
She felt my growing cock pulsate under her touch, sensing its size as she teased me further. “Would you do it?” she repeated, more insistent now.
I nodded slowly, unable to speak for fear of losing myself completely. The idea of pleasing Maria had taken over everything else. I knew it was impossible to shrink a penis like that, but the thought sent shivers down my spine. And yet, Maria’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect—the thrill of submission, the power dynamic ahead.
We made love that night, and for weeks after, the fantasy remained between us. We spoke little about it, but she would often touch me as if measuring its size or grip it lightly as we fucked. We weren’t shy talking about sex or desire, yet she never really revisited this idea directly. She would subtly ask me what I thought the average size was in our culture and how it affected men’s confidence. It was always a topic of conversation that left me on edge, unsure where it led to. Still, Maria seemed content with my answers, which always led to more sex.
One evening, as I came home from University, I saw her sitting on the couch. It wasn’t a surprising sight—she often waited for me, ready to greet me after a long day. But there was something different about her posture today. Her eyes were focused, intentional, like she had an idea. And when I approached for our daily kiss, she embraced me with enthusiasm, unlike before.
“James, do you trust me?” she whispered in my ear, voice low and flirty.
I nodded without hesitation, feeling my heart race at the thought of what might come next. Maria always knew how to turn me on, yet it felt more real this time. She pointed at a small package I hadn’t noticed earlier—a parcel that lay by the door.
“It arrived today,” she said, her eyes gleaming excitedly. “From an old friend.”
Confused, I looked back at Maria, who was already opening it. Inside were several pill bottles wrapped neatly in foil and instructions. She handed them over, smiling mischievously. I took them, but the labeling was in a language I couldn’t understand. It wasn’t English or Spanish. Probably Portuguese? In any case, it was clear that most of the words were specialized pharmaceutical terms outside my knowledge.
“What is this?” I asked, still trying to understand what she had brought home.
Maria grinned and kissed me again, her lips lingering on mine as if tasting my response. “It’s time,” she whispered, “to shrink your penis.”
I froze at the thought, but Maria’s hands were already undoing my pants, pulling out my cock. It grew hard in anticipation, trained to react with every touch from her. She stroked it slowly, teasingly, feeling its size with a newfound fascination that left me breathless. I couldn’t believe this was happening—after all these months of fantasizing about being smaller, here we were, ready to make it real.
“Do you trust me?” she asked again, looking up at me with an intensity that made me shiver.
For maybe the first time in my life, I pushed her away. This was too much for me. I sat on the couch, pantsless and still hard. Maria sat next to me, looking unfazed by my rejection.
“I-I need to know more,” I said. I loved Maria and trusted her, but not enough to unthinkingly take these mysterious pills without knowing what they contained or how they worked. “What’s in them? What is this exactly?”
She leaned back, smiling as if expecting it all along. She handed over a small pamphlet with the instructions—surprisingly enough, they were in English. It was still medical jargon, but I could make out that it was indeed made for shrinking penises.
Maria explained it was a modern version of the ancient plant medicine used by that South American tribe. The pills would slowly reduce my size permanently. And yet, she promised me that it was safe every step of the way. The process was gradual, allowing us to adjust to the change. There were possible side effects, including importance and pleasure changes, but Maria had researched them all. She knew what she wanted, and I was the man who’d give her exactly that.
“It’s your choice,” she said softly. “But I want us to do this together.”
I couldn’t deny the temptation, but a part of me feared the unknown—losing my masculinity or control over my body. What if it affected other areas, too? It wasn’t just about size, but also power in bed and confidence outside of it. I looked at her hesitantly—this wasn’t just about sex anymore. It was a life decision. And yet, as Maria’s eyes begged for my trust, I saw something deeper within them—a desire beyond sex. She wanted more than just pleasure from me. She needed to dominate and submit in equal measure. She wanted our lives to be bound by this act.
“Let’s do it,” I said finally, feeling the weight of choice settle on my shoulders. “But if I want to stop, we stop.”
Maria nodded, relieved but still holding onto my hand. We were in this together, and her grip never let go as I took a pill with a glass of water. We looked at my dick harder than ever, but there were no changes. We both giggled nervously—what now?
“Stay here!” Maria suddenly ordered, leaving me alone for a moment.
She returned with a ruler, smiling mischievously. It wasn’t Maria’s first measurement of my size, but today felt different. Her eyes sparked with determination as she held it against my cock, taking note of its length.
“Five inches point six,” she said and wrote it on paper. “The average is five inches point five,” she added, looking at me with a grin that made me want to take her here and now.
As instructed, Maria made me take another pill every day. We developed the habit of making me swallow a pill in bed, usually before sex. Every time I swallowed a pill, she would kiss me while touching me, feeling my penis with her nibble fingers. Her tongue would explore my mouth as if checking if I had swallowed. And when we had sex, it was different—slower, more deliberate. More often than not, she took the lead, and I surrendered myself completely. When she was sleeping, I often lay awake in thought, imagining those mysterious chemicals slowly working to make me smaller.
Days passed, weeks too, but there were no changes yet. Maria assured me that patience was key and that it could take up to a month for results. But every time she measured, I grew harder with anticipation. The idea of being permanently small, forever shrunk, excited us both. We talked about new ways to pleasure each other, how we’d have to adjust our lovemaking—and I found myself more turned on than ever.
And then, one day, as I was masturbating her, Maria caught my hand. “Stop,” she said suddenly.
Licking her wetness from my hand as I waited, confused by the command, I observed her nude form twist away, searching for something in her bed drawer. She returned with a ruler, holding it up to me.
“Measure it,” she whispered, eyes bright with excitement.
I felt silly but did so, measuring my dick against the small lines. I didn’t expect anything. I secretly thought that those pills Maria had bought had been placebos, inert sugar pills to fool customers. I looked at the result, but I didn’t react.
Five inches point five.
Maria twisted herself again to look at the result with me, her breasts pressing against my chest. “It’s happening,” she said, the excitement palpable in her voice.
“Well, you know, boners can vary in size,” I said, trying to play it cool.
I was telling the truth, of course. Any man knows that erections are different, and it wasn’t a reliable measure of shrinkage yet. But inside, I felt a surge of fear and anticipation. What if it wasn’t just a placebo? Maria didn’t listen but instead lowered her head towards my crotch. She sucked on my dick as never before, taking me deeper than ever. Her tongue played with my foreskin before swirling around its tip teasingly. As always, she soon rolled my foreskin down to taste the glans, which usually made me cum in seconds.
But this time was different—she threw her head back, leaving my throbbing dick covered in her saliva. I felt a gasp of air as she let it slip from her lips and looked up at me intensely. She grabbed the ruler again and practically stabbed me with it.
“Five inches five!” she announced triumphantly.
I couldn’t believe it—I didn’t feel any smaller, but Maria seemed ecstatic. My dick was as hard as it could be after that divine blowjob, still erect for more, on the verge of orgasm, and yet, it was undeniably smaller than before. The evidence was slim, but Maria was elated beyond belief. She kissed the underside of my glans, and I erupted over myself like an inexperienced freshman. Thankfully for my ego, Maria climaxed in record time, too, reaching her orgasm with a few flicks of my tongue.
Days passed, weeks too, and we kept measuring every night, checking the results. It wasn’t always consistent, but slowly, surely, there were changes—my dick was shrinking. And with it, so did our love deepen. Maria loved me more than ever before, taking control in bed as if to prove that she had made this happen. She would order me around, making me do things that made me feel more like the start of our relationship than the mature balance we had reached. The power dynamic shifted, and I submitted to her every whim.
Hanging out with my friends one night, our conversation shifted from homework to the girls in class. Being happy in my relationship, I was more than content letting them talk about their struggles. But when they brought up sex, they wanted my input.
I had never really been in the habit of conversing about my bedroom life. The topic did come up with Maria near the start of our relationship. I knew she was OK with me being explicit if such a conversation came up with my friends. She liked being considered a sexual being, and as far as she was concerned, we were an open book. So, I hesitated when my mates asked if anything was new and steamy in my life.
“Actually,” I said, “Maria is more dominant lately?” I said, unsure of myself.
“Oh, so you’re into that?” one friend asked, intrigued. “Like, bondage or something?”
“Not really,” I clarified, needing to explain. “It’s just Maria taking control in bed, making me do things I wouldn’t usually do.”
“Lucky you. I always wanted a girl who would make me cum like that,” another chimed in, clearly jealous.
I shrugged it off—they had their desires and needs. But as we talked more about girls, my thoughts turned inward. How would they react if they knew I was shrinking my dick? Would they even understand such an act of submission for love? It seemed so strange, yet Maria loved it, and it made me feel desired and powerful every time she took charge. But being with my mates, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat ashamed or embarrassed by the idea. Was this a sign of weakness to give up control like that?
“Hey guys, weird question,” I piped up once everyone had had a few beers. “But do you think women would find smaller penises attractive?” They laughed at first, not taking me seriously. But as I pressed on, they listened intently—my friends were always curious about such things. “Ancient Greece and Rome, those cultures that valued small penis size as more manly,” I argued.
One friend shrugged. “I guess it’s different strokes for different folks, but I don’t see how anyone could prefer a small dick over what we have nowadays.”
“‘What we have?’ Just how big are you?” I asked, my face red as a tomato as soon as the words left my mouth.
They all laughed at what they perceived to be a joke. I played along, not wanting to reveal too much of my secret. But inside, I felt the weight of shame and insecurity—was Maria being selfish with her desire? Would any other women find me attractive with less size?
“Hmm, seriously, guys, aren’t you curious about how much we’re packing?” I asked again, more desperate this time.
Their eyes met mine, and for once, they seemed intrigued by the idea.
“I’m nine inches,” one friend said confidently.
Another followed up with his number, “Eight and a half here.”
The third hesitated before admitting, “OK, I’m eight.”
They were big sizes. However, I would have bet none of these numbers were truthful.
“Come on,” I urged, needing to confess my secret. “That’s bullshit. I know you’re lying about your sizes!”
They grinned at me but didn’t deny it as one guy spoke up. “So, how big are you?”
I hesitated, unsure if they could handle the truth. I didn’t know how big they were, and I was down to five inches. A bit smaller than the average. Swallowing, I said my number, “Five point six.”
Their faces changed immediately, their gaze looking down at their glasses. It was a very uncomfortable silence. Were they really that big? Was my old number still puny in comparison?
“I’m five point eight.” admitted another friend, breaking the tension with his voice.
“I’m just over five inches,” the second added sheepishly, leaving me feeling better.
We looked at our last friend, who hesitated before admitting, “OK, I’m four and a half.”
We all laughed it off as we drank more beer. The conversation soon turned back to sexual exploits and reassurances that size didn’t matter much. Internally, I was feeling better about myself. I had been bigger than most of my mates, and even now, I wasn’t the smallest. But with one last sip of my beer, I realized I might become the smallest here.
Coming home drunk as a skunk, Maria greeted me with her usual warmth. “So, how was your night out with the boys? Did you miss me?” she asked teasingly.
I grinned at her. The truth was that I did miss her. It was a bond only she could provide, the intimacy between us that made me feel whole.
“It was fun. I learned lots.” I drunkenly replied, feeling buzzed from the alcohol and the conversation. “The guys talked about their penis sizes.”
Maria’s eyes lit up immediately—it was her favorite topic. “What did they say?”
I told them my friends’ numbers. Her reactions to their sizes were interesting, especially when I mentioned the smallest group. I felt a small pang of jealousy then. But Maria just grinned at me, her hand on mine as she leaned in for a kiss.
“Most of your friends are bigger than you now. You know that,” she whispered with a hint of excitement.
“Yeah, but—” I said, unsure if this was good.
“Why did you lie?” she whispered. “You could have been honest.”
I hesitated, unsure what to say next. My friend’s lies were still fresh, and being more truthful felt uncomfortable. But Maria’s hands slid down my pants, her fingers finding their way underneath.
“You’re not five point six anymore,” she whispered, stroking me gently as if measuring it with her touch. “Why did you lie to your friends?”
I was too drunk to come up with an answer. I wanted to please Maria, to be a good boyfriend, but the truth felt heavy on my tongue. And yet, she didn’t let go until I spoke out loudly: “I don’t know.”
Maria smiled at me, her eyes bright and confident like never before. “Next time, you’ll tell them your real size. You won’t hide from them.”
Kissing me, she led me to the bedroom, where she undressed me, taking my pants off as if it were the most natural thing in the world. However, my dick stayed flaccid. The alcohol made me unable to perform, but Maria wasn’t bothered by it. Some corner of my mind vaguely noted that she seemed fascinated with my lack of erection. She played with its foreskin, teasingly stroking it like a cat with a new toy. Usually, such touches made me ready in seconds, but I couldn’t react tonight. It appeared she greatly enjoyed covering and uncovering my glans without intending to have sex.
She left my glans uncovered as she led me into the bed. “You know what you need,” she whispered, her eyes excitedly bright.
I knew and laid back. Maria produced the pill, slowly bringing it to my mouth. Taking it down, I swallowed it as if on cue—feeling the familiar taste on my tongue. I didn’t get hard that night. Maria didn’t care, instead kissing my lips with a passion that made me forget about my dick. Her fingers played with my nipples, making them stand up while we lay in each other’s arms.
The next morning, I woke up to find myself hard again. The familiar morning wood was there, and I felt Maria’s sleeping breath against my chest. But this time, I noticed that my pubis was covered in dried-up semen. It appeared I had had a wet dream. The last thing that happened, I was still living with my parents.
When I told Maria the news, she smiled widely, her eyes gleaming like never before. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, kissing my lips. “You are so precious.”
I couldn’t help but feel embarrassment mixed with pride—it seemed like every time some change happened, I would feel sexually inferior, yet Maria found it as an achievement. The more I adapted to shrinkage, the more she revealed in control and pleasure. She made me feel more desirable than ever. We continued to feed me the pills every night, and Maria would measure me every night.
Another change occurred: my foreskin had started retracting, leaving a small opening at its tip when fully erect. It didn’t hurt or anything. It just felt odd. Maria had been the first to notice and tease about it, her fingers exploring the newly exposed area with excitement. Her eyes gleamed with delight as if this was all part of our agreement. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder—what else could happen? Was there more to come?
But Maria loved playing with my glans with her fingers, teasingly tracing the tiny hole. “Look how much you’re changing,” she whispered, delighted by the sight.
“It feels strange,” I admitted, feeling vulnerable under her gaze.
My whole life, my penis had been covered and exposed in ways beyond my control.
Maria smiled knowingly. “You will love it soon enough,” she promised, kissing me passionately before taking my dick again.
Her mouth was slow and deliberate, exploring every bit of it like a connoisseur. When she was masturbating me, it felt like each of her strokes was trying to pull down my foreskin even more—as if making sure it stayed exposed.
“Three point eight,” she said one night, excitedly looking up at the ruler. It was a new low for us both, but I couldn’t help feeling scared. My dick was a fraction smaller than ever before, and yet Maria seemed delighted by it all.
I didn’t understand how much more I could shrink or what would happen next. I struggled to penetrate Maria in certain ways, but she never complained. It seemed like she loved when my penis failed to fit inside her fully—she felt powerful as if making me adapt to her every whim. But I couldn’t shake the fear of being too small, that one day it wouldn’t be enough for sex. I seriously considered many times to stop taking the pills, to tell her no, and to halt this process altogether. It wasn’t just about size anymore; it was a life decision, and the thought of losing Maria scared me more than anything else.
Yet, Maria kept giving me those pills, and our love deepened each night. Her kisses were passionate, her touching explorative and demanding. She made me feel desired in ways beyond my old self-esteem, and yet, she never stopped making me submit. The power shift between us became natural—but so did the fear that I might be too small for her one day.
These thoughts swam around in my head as I walked into the bar again, looking for a familiar face. It was a few months after the first day I took those pills. Sitting near my friend (who admitted he had a four-and-a-half-inch dick that night), we always talked about life and women. But something inside me changed when he mentioned his girlfriend’s pleasure.
“She loves it when I make her cum,” he said with a smile. “But sometimes I can feel guilty if she takes longer than me.”
I nodded understandingly. I had been the same when I started dating Maria. My orgasms were always quicker, but she hadn’t minded. She taught me how to last longer, pay attention to how she was reacting, and that there was more to sex than penetration. It was one of our most intimate moments, yet I couldn’t help feeling ashamed for my friend.
“It’s not fair, is it?” I asked him softly, unsure where this came from. “Women taking so long, men expected to perform.”
He nodded in agreement, “Yeah, we should be able to take as much time as they do. But you know what’s worse? My girlfriend said I had a small dick.” He paused, looking at me with a hint of shame. “She said all her ex-boyfriends were bigger than me, making her cum harder.”
I felt my heart sink. If my friend was small at four and a half inches, what did that make me now? And Maria loved it when I couldn’t penetrate fully, but how long would that last? Would she leave for a man who could satisfy her better? The thought scared me more than anything, yet I wanted to help my friend.
“You know, I lied the other day…” I said slowly, unsure if I should continue.
He looked up, interested in my words. “What do you mean?”
“We were bragging about our sizes, right?” Feeling awkward with the lie, I explained, “And I didn’t want to admit mine was small like it is now.”
My friend nodded understandingly, his eyes brightening as he took another sip of beer. “Yeah, we all did that. But what are you saying?”
“Well,” I hesitated again, unsure how to explain myself, “Mine is smaller than yours. Like really small.”
He looked at me in disbelief, but my words seemed true—he had no reason not to believe them. “What do you mean? How small?”
I shrugged, feeling a pang of shame and embarrassment. “Like three inches maybe, barely,” I finally admitted the truth out there.
My friend looked shocked, then laughed. “You’re joking. That’s like nothing, man!”
“No,” I said firmly, feeling tears sting my eyes with honesty. “It’s that small.”
He shook his head in disbelief as if trying to process this information. “Man, how can you…you know, fuck?”
The question hit me hard—was it possible for me to have a normal sex life anymore? Would Maria leave me for someone who could satisfy her better? Shaking these thoughts away, I tried to focus on the conversation at hand.
“Women are different nowadays.” I replied, trying to make sense of it all, “They want more than just penetration. It’s not always about size but pleasure and connection.”
My friend nodded slowly, still unsure. It sounded like every vapid magazine advice or article he had read. But I was a trusted friend, and his expression softened as if seeing something new in my words.
“I see. Thanks, man,” he said finally, putting down his beer with gratitude. “I’ll try that trick with the tongue.”
I grinned, too. It was a small part of my explanation, but I was confident he had listened to the rest just as much. And maybe, for once, it made me feel better about myself—that I did help someone understand what mattered beyond size.
Somehow, it made me feel more confident about my fate. Maria was as loyal to me as I was loyal to her, and even if she loved smaller dicks, we were connected in ways deeper than mere physical pleasure. Maybe one day, when I would be too small, there would still be other ways to make love and satisfy each other. I wasn’t scared anymore but excited by the journey ahead.
When it came time to leave the bar, my friend awkwardly tapped my back with a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for that, man,” he said, looking at the floor, not meeting my eyes. “Listen, um, can I crash with you tonight?”
“What?” I asked, surprised.
He looked up with embarrassment, ” I need a place to stay. My girlfriend left me, you know? And her apartment…”
Sighing in understanding, I nodded slowly—this was an old story too familiar. But he was my friend, and I couldn’t turn him away. “Yeah, sure,” I replied, feeling kindness well up inside. “It’s OK.”
He smiled gratefully, his hand on mine, as we walked out of the bar together. I called Maria, telling her a friend needed a place to stay and asking if it was OK. She didn’t hesitate before saying yes, happy to help another person.
Once home, my friend understandably looked around with wonder—our lifestyle felt like luxury compared to his usual bachelor pad. But he settled in quickly, making himself at ease. Maria was an excellent host, making him visit the whole apartment while I cooked dinner for all of us. There was no awkwardness between us during dinner. We talked about life, music, and popular spots in town. When he talked about his economics major, Maria chimed in eagerly as she worked in finance. Their conversation about the finer points of residual benefits made me feel left out, but it was still nice to see them bonding.
Later that night, Maria and I retired to our bedroom while my friend took the guest room next to us. I was satisfied with my night and ready to sleep, but Maria looked at me excitedly.
“Your friend is a good man,” she whispered, her hand unbuttoning my shirt. “I’m glad you helped him.”
I nodded, feeling grateful for her understanding, too. It had been a long time since we talked about anything beyond sex or shrinking—it felt like old times when she cared about people outside of me.
Maria smiled brightly as if reading my thoughts. “He reminds me of an ex-boyfriend,” she said, leading me into the bedroom, “Who also needed help after his girlfriend left him.”
My heart skipped a beat at the revelation. Was Maria comparing our relationship to some past lover? But then I realized this was just another part of her personality—making me feel special and unique.
“What happened?” I asked, feeling nervous but curious.
She was searching the drawers for something or other. “We were in love, he had a small dick too…and it wasn’t enough for her.”
I froze, unsure how to react. This sounded like my fears made real.
Maria saw my expression and laughed softly, kissing me as if reading my thoughts. “But we adapted together,” she whispered confidently, “And it worked out well.”
Her words calmed me down, yet my mind raced with questions. How did they adapt? What happened after she left him? But I didn’t dare ask. Feeling the intimacy of the moment was more important than anything else.
“That said…” Maria continued, seemingly finding what she sought in the drawer. “He was different than you.”
I felt jealous—he must have been someone special to her. “Different, how?”
She smiled knowingly as if feeling my jealousy and then produced an electric razor behind her back. “He shaved down there,” she whispered, holding it up with amusement.
My eyes widened at the sight of the tool, unsure where this was going. But Maria quickly undid my pants, not waiting for permission. My tiny dick sprung out, already exposed like always, but she turned on the razor, waiting a moment to see if I would protest or stop her. I didn’t—instead, I felt intrigued by her boldness. She started shaving me as I stood there, feeling the blade against my skin and pubic hair fall away. It was an odd sensation, yet somehow exciting too. And when she finished, I looked down to find myself fully smooth.
“You look good,” Maria whispered with satisfaction, kissing my lips again. “Like you never had any hair at all.”
It made me feel exposed in a way that was new but also erotic. My small dick hardened under her gaze, ready for more. But she didn’t touch it—instead, she sat on the tub’s edge, waiting for me to join her.
“You know, he was different in another way,” she said after silence. “But you’re looking increasingly like him down there every day.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, unsure if this was a compliment or not. “Was he really small? Smaller than me?”
Maria smiled but shook her head. “No, just different… He was circumcised.”
I felt my eyes widen at the thought, never considering that before. My dick had always been uncut. It was a part of me as much as anything else—having it cut away would be strange. But Maria seemed to understand my confusion, explaining further.
“I didn’t mean I want you circumcised,” she laughed softly, “But look at your dick now, how it looks. It’s becoming more and more exposed every day.”
I looked down at my erection. Maria was right, and I knew it, but it was something else for her to point out. My penis head, usually covered even when erect, was about half-exposed nowadays. My foreskin had retracted so much that the glans stood out in a way I couldn’t ignore.
“I see what you mean…” I said slowly, feeling embarrassment mixed with pride. It wasn’t every day a woman compared your circumcision status or lack of it. But Maria seemed fascinated by this aspect of me. “But why are you telling me about this?”
She smiled mischievously, “Because I want you to masturbate for me.”
My heart raced at her words, my dick getting harder as she spoke them. She wanted me to pleasure myself in front of her. Somehow, this felt more naughty than sex. Maria and I would always have sex together, but the idea of doing something just for her was new and exciting.
“What do you mean?” I asked, unsure of myself.
Maria grinned wickedly, taking off her clothes as if reading my mind. “I want to see how it looks when you’re masturbating. You can touch yourself however you like.”
Without a word, I obeyed. It had been months since I jacked myself off. Maria and I were always intimate, so it seemed strange to do this alone now—yet her request made me feel desired beyond any other time. My hands moved automatically to grab my dick, yet I overshoot. I was still not used to my smaller size.
“Take your time,” she whispered with amusement. “You don’t have to rush.”
I felt embarrassed. Maria knew what had just happened, that my unconscious mind still expected my dick to be bigger. But she seemed more interested in the journey than the destination as if watching me adapt and learn for herself. And so, I grabbed my dick and began jerking off.
It felt different. Without pubic hair, every stroke was a sensation on exposed skin—it made me feel like an exhibitionist somehow. My eyes locked onto Maria’s face, her gaze never leaving mine. Her smile grew with each second of pleasure, and I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by it all.
It was also harder to jerk off standing up. All my life, I did so while lying on my bed or sitting in front of the computer, playing with myself while looking at crude porn. Standing up was practically a challenge. But Maria seemed to enjoy it, watching me adjust and adapt to my new situation.
And yet, the biggest change came from my foreskin or lack thereof. It retracted more than ever before, exposing even more glans than I was comfortable with. As an uncut guy, I always masturbated using my foreskin as leverage—rolling it up and down against my glans, teasing myself that way. Now, it had receded so much that I could only bring my foreskin halfway up, barely covering the head of my dick. The rest remained exposed in a way that made me feel vulnerable.
Instead of stimulating the underside of my glans, I was forced to stroke my shaft, hoping the movement of my foreskin would create enough friction to be enjoyable. It wasn’t as pleasurable, but Maria seemed fascinated by my struggle. And when she saw me try to pull up my foreskin further, she couldn’t help but start touching herself in front of me.
“You look so cute like this,” she whispered with a smile, her hand on her pussy. “Like you’re trying to cover yourself.”
I felt embarrassment and excitement at once—it made me feel desired even more than sex. But I didn’t dare stop masturbating or adjust myself, not wanting to disappoint Maria. Instead, I stroked as best as possible, feeling the pleasure grow.
I couldn’t even use my whole hand to masturbate. I was so small that only my thumb and index finger had enough space to grip. I was only able to jerk off with two fingers. I felt pathetic, but Maria was enjoying every second of it. And when she reached a climax, she moaned of satisfaction, watching me with a smile.
“I came before you,” she said softly, smiling at my dick. “But you look like you’re close.”
It wasn’t true—my orgasm wasn’t that close yet. But the thought made me feel wanted, as if this was all for Maria’s pleasure. And so, I continued stroking myself until, finally, my body tensed and released. It was an odd feeling. My legs trembled like a terrified fawn, struggling to keep me upright as my orgasm subsided. Maria watched in amusement, her hand on her pussy still. The moment felt intimate beyond anything else, but it was over too soon. My dick softened, leaving me unsure of what to do next.
Maria stood up, approaching me with kindness in her eyes. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, kissing me gently. “I love you.”
I joined her back in bed. Even after all that, she fed me a pill, ensuring I kept shrinking. The ruler looked weird. My pubes no longer cover the bottom part. And there was another change now.
“Even soft, your glans is a bit exposed,” Maria said with satisfaction.
I grabbed my small dick and turned it toward me. I saw my glans, the very tip of it. My foreskin had retracted so much that even flaccid, it wasn’t enough to cover anymore totally.
“Did you know it would do this?” I asked her, feeling confused. “You never mentioned.”
Maria shook her head, amused at my surprise. “No, but I love how it looks. It’s like your penis wants to be exposed all the time now.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed, but before I could argue, she grabbed my dick again and pulled down the foreskin fully. It was a small movement but felt different from her hand-made adjustments of old. A simple flick instead of a pull. Before I could react, she straddled me. My dick hardened, feeling her wetness on top.
“You’re ready?” she whispered with confidence.
“Wait, my friend is—” I started, unsure if he could hear us or not if we started making noise.
But Maria didn’t wait for an answer, guiding me onto her in one fluid motion. It was rough. With her on top, totally in control, she held nothing back. My dick, small as it was, couldn’t fill her fully—but the sensation of being inside made me feel alive again. And when she moaned, I felt a glimmer of satisfaction. My hips entered the rhythm of her movements, multiplying our pleasure.
But still, my size mattered. It never filled Maria, and there were moments when we both adjusted to fit better. Twice my penis slipped out of her body, causing us to pause. But Maria didn’t mind, instead guiding me in with a gentle hand until I found myself back inside. She loved it all, moaning louder and louder as if enjoying every second. And then, without warning, she came on top of me—her orgasm strong and intense like always. Her legs shook around mine, making me feel small but also desired. Her voice was loud, expressing pleasure beyond anything else. I was sure she was deliberately making sure my friend heard our lovemaking.
My dick was still inside her. I stopped pumping away, but Maria didn’t care. Instead, she held onto me tightly, her body shaking with a second climax. And when it ended, she whispered, “I love you.”
She slowly grinds into me, her whole body relaxing against mine. My dick quickly plopped out of her sex. Every stroke of her body made the tip of my penis press against her vulva. It felt strange and awkward like she was teasing me. I wanted to penetrate her. Every time she moved, I could feel myself about to enter her, but it never happened.
Maria smiled at my discomfort, knowing what she was doing. “You know,” she said with a laugh, “we used to make love like this.”
It was true. A few months ago, the same position would have been perfect for us—we would be in sync, our bodies intertwined as one, my penis slowly rubbing the inside of Maria’s vagina, hitting all the right spots. But now, it felt unnatural and awkward. My dick is too small, even when hard.
“Let’s flip around?” I suggested, wondering if Maria had heard me.
She smiled at my suggestion but followed suit, rolling over onto her back. It was a familiar position from before, with me on top. The angle made things easier, my penis fitting more snugly against her sex. And yet, there were moments when we adjusted to fit better—making sure every thrust counted.
Maria moaned in pleasure, feeling my body above hers like always. Her hands explored my chest, gripping my nipples as she liked. But it wasn’t the same anymore—the sensation of being inside was different now. I couldn’t fill her, and my movements felt awkward despite myself. But Maria didn’t seem to mind, her voice loud with each thrust. She loved me all the way, even when we paused momentarily. My dick slipped out of her sex, but I quickly reentered her, not caring about the roughness. She has had her orgasms. I wanted mine.
Thrusting into her repeatedly, I felt I was making up for lost time. But her teasing gaze was too much for me. She knew it—her eyes on me every move. And as I came inside her, my small ejaculation wasn’t enough either. It spilled onto her body, feeling unsatisfying compared to before.
“You were wonderful,” Maria whispered afterward, holding me tightly. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” I answered reflexively, unsure what else to say.
Maria grinned at my answer, kissing me softly with affection. “Be honest, I want to know.”
I looked down between us. My dick was still semi-hard but not fully erect. “It was…different,” I started, having decided to tell her the truth. “But I felt like I wasn’t enough for you.”
She nodded understanding, taking my hand and leading it to her pussy. My fingers explored her wetness, feeling the sensation that had been absent. It made me feel more connected than ever—Maria wanted this conversation, too.
“I feel pathetic when I can’t enter you. It’s not just size but being able to satisfy you. And every time we make love now, it feels awkward.”
Maria smiled softly at my words, knowing what I meant. “You’re never pathetic,” she whispered with kindness. “But yes, there are moments of adjustment. We have to find new ways together.”
Hearing her say that she understood and cared for me was a relief. But then again, I felt small. The reality of our situation hit—I couldn’t be enough for her as before. My dick wasn’t just smaller but unadaptable in some way, making sex not quite right anymore.
“I don’t know how we can make it work,” I said softly, feeling tears in my eyes.
Maria looked at me with a strange gaze, holding my face gently. “Do you feel your fingers? They are deeper now than you can ever reach.”
It was true. My fingertips had more space to explore inside her vagina than my penis. And yet, the male urge to enter and satisfy remained strong—like a primal instinct that couldn’t be ignored.
“You still have your tongue, mouth, hands… Your body is not just your dick.” Maria whispered, kissing me again. “I love all of it.”
Her words made me feel better, but I didn’t know how to respond. My dick shrinking constantly reminded me of its limitations, making sex harder than before. But Maria still showed no sign of wanting me to stop taking those pills. On the contrary, she seemed more interested in exploring my smallness with her adjustments and pleasure.
Once again, I felt her hand reach for my penis. I braced myself, knowing what was coming—another attempt at adapting my skin retracting further. And sure enough, Maria’s fingers found their way underneath, pulling on the foreskin until it rolled back like a curtain. My glans exposed itself fully, making me feel vulnerable yet excited.
“Stay like this tonight,” she whispered, still using my hand to masturbate herself. “I want you to get used to it.”
I wanted to ask more, but her third orgasm cut our conversation.
The next morning was different, too. Maria woke up before me, as usual—and I couldn’t help but see how she looked at me with kindness in her eyes. My penis felt even smaller than yesterday, the skin retracting further around it. And when she saw me looking, a smile came across her face.
We went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and my friend came out soon after, looking red as a tomato. It seems he did hear Maria and me last night, unsure of what to say now. But Maria didn’t mind, leading him into a conversation like always.
“I hope you slept well,” she said, a big grin on her lips. “You look tired.”
He nodded, embarrassed but trying not to show it. “Thanks for letting me stay over.”
“I hope I wasn’t too loud?” Maria asked with a smile, referring to our lovemaking.
My friend shook his head, still blushing. “Um, well, uh…” he stammered, looking at the floor. “No, it was fine.”
Maria smiled mischievously, “Good. We were just…experimenting together.”
My friend looked confused and unsure of what she meant—and I felt extremely embarrassed. How far was Maria going to take this?
“Experimenting?” my traitor of a friend asked, clearly intrigued.
I could see where this was heading, and it made me feel even more awkward than before. But Maria didn’t care, continuing with her words.
“We wanted to test something new,” she said with a smile, looking at me like always. “And we found out that small can be cute too.”
I choked on my toast. I wanted to disappear into a faraway hole, never to be found again. My friend looked between us both with confusion and excitement—he couldn’t help but ask for details. And so, Maria gleefully explained our adventures in the tub last night. She talked about how I shaved, how she made me masturbate for her pleasure, and how it felt different from before. She even mentioned the adjustments of being inside and how small could feel awkward at times.
And through it all, my friend listened like an eager student. He asked questions, wanting more information on this new world of size and pleasure. It was clear that he liked it, too, feeling excited by our experiences. But there was a limit to what she said, thankfully. She didn’t talk about the pills or my shrinking foreskin. She didn’t either pipe a word about my feelings of inadequacy. She painted me as a sex god—making me blush with pride and confusion.
Thankfully, my friend seemed genuinely interested in pleasing a woman rather than my situation. Maria gave him tips and tricks, even suggesting things we had never tried, and I. And while it made me feel like an outsider, I wasn’t against it. Once the initial shock passed, I wanted to participate in the conversation.
However, breakfast ended, and the topic changed to our day ahead. My friend needed to leave for work, leaving us alone again. But Maria hugged him tightly before he left—as if ensuring his approval.
“You take care,” she whispered affectionately. “You’re always welcome here.”
My friend nodded, looking at both of us like a puppy dog. It was clear he wanted more time but didn’t dare ask. And so, we watched him go, feeling relieved this whole experience was finally over.
Maria looked back at me with a smile, holding my hand in hers. “I hope you don’t mind that I shared our adventures?”
I shook my head, unsure what to say. It should have felt like a breach, but I knew deep down I wanted this. To be the small guy, to make Maria happy, and to explore new things together.
“No, it’s OK,” I said softly, grateful for her honesty. “It makes me more aware of how different we are now.”
“Different is good, too,” she whispered with amusement, still holding my hand. “And there will be more experiments ahead—I promise you that.”
She didn’t precise what kind, but I had no doubt she meant it. And as days passed, I found myself looking forward to them all. Despite my penis shrinking, my glans exposed like never before, I felt excited by the possibilities and new sensations.
Maria explored every inch of me, finding pleasure where others couldn’t. It was a journey beyond sex, making us closer than ever. Even when we struggled, her love made me feel desired and cherished. I knew my situation wasn’t easy, but with Maria by my side, I was willing to face anything—even if it meant being small forever. And so, as days passed, I felt more confident and happy with each day, tiny dick or not.
*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.