By bisquate.

The Judge walked into the court room, empty, but for two barristers and a man in the dock. He was short, with short dark hair, and looked sullen. His hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Thank you for your patience,” said the Judge. “I have come to my conclusions regarding your sentencing. Taking into account the egregious nature of your crimes and their nature, and the verdict of guilty found by the Jury for your crimes of three counts of rape, one count of non-consensual penetration, and indecent exposure, the customary sentencing would be in the interests of the public and to aid eventual rehabilitation.”

She paused for a moment to look at the man in the dock.

“You will be sentenced to harm reduction by chemical atrophy over five years. In addition, after the successful treatment, you will serve a round of public humiliation.”

The man looked down and exhaled nervously.

“Given your behavior, I will not grant you bail and will be incarcerating you in medical care for the duration of your first treatment. After your booked exhibition date, you may be considered to be permitted bail should the court feel that this is appropriate at that time. The full details of this sentence will be explained to you in full in due course. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the man in the dock, almost silently.

“Court is adjourned.”

Two guards opened the dock, took the man out of the dock and into a small anteroom, and left him sitting on a chair.

A woman dressed in smart attire entered the room and stood to address the man.

“As per the Judge’s instructions, you will be immediately transferred to a facility to hold you for the duration of your treatment. Have you heard of the treatment the Judge has sentenced you to?”

“Yes,” the man said sheepishly.

“I’ll leave it to the doctor to explain the process in full. Your exhibition date is booked for three months from now you’ll be transferred directly from your facility to the studio. For now, your transport is ready.”

The woman left the room as the two porters returned to take the man to a van parked outside. He was bundled in as the van took him away from the court to his fate.


After arriving at the facility, he was brought through the intake room. A burly man and two uniformed women stood in the dimly lit clinical room. The man uncuffed him, menacingly making eye contact with him.

“Please remove all possessions and place them in this box,” said one of the uniformed women.

The man had nothing but the clothes on his back, which he slowly removed.

“Everything, please,” said the woman.

He stripped down to his underwear, placing each item into the box.

The woman gestured to the burly man, who went to stand behind the man.

“Yes, and those as well,” the woman said, indicating his grey boxer shorts.

The man slowly lowered them, taking them off each leg and placing them into the box.

“Stand perfectly still, please.”

The man did as he was told.

The woman took a measuring tape from her upper pocket, unraveled it, and knelt in front of the man. She looked directly at the man’s penis. Taking the tape and holding the end to the base of his penis. He was blushing profusely.

“Twenty-five,” she said, reading the number where the tape reached the tip. The man winced, very aware of the burly man behind him. She then wrapped it around the circumference of his shaft.

“Twenty, exactly.”

The other woman made a note in a small notebook.

“Crouch down, please,” instructed the woman with the tape measure, “and spread your ass cheeks.”

The man, reluctantly, did as he was told.

The burly guard took a small pocket torch, pointed it between his legs from behind, and then nodded.

“Take this,” said the woman with a notebook, handing him a gown. He quickly put it on.

Once he was dressed in the gown, he was led out of the intake room and into the corridor beyond, empty and eerie. His feet slapped on the shiny white floor as he followed them to his room.

They opened the room and gestured him in. It was spartan, just a small single bed, toilet, and basin. Nothing else, no TV, desk, or even a chair.

“You’ll be called up first thing tomorrow for your first round of treatment,” said one of the female officers, shutting the door behind her.

The man sat on the bed, putting his head in his hands.


The following morning, he was awoken by a new person, this time in a lab coat at the door. She was tall, blonde, and with glasses holding a clipboard. She introduced herself as the prison doctor. Accompanied by a guard, they took him to a new room that contained a bed.

“Please take a seat,” the doctor instructed. He did as he was asked.

“Let me quickly walk you through the procedure. We’ll inject you with a cocktail of drugs, including hormones and other chemicals. It will be a depot dose, so you’ll only need this once for the first round,” the doctor said. “The intended effects, you may be aware of. Primarily, this will reduce the size of your sexual organs such that it will no longer be possible for you to penetrate another person without consent. It will also likely reduce your deviant sexual urges. It won’t prevent them from functioning in the long term.

“You will still be able to produce sperm and become sexually aroused. Once your sentence is finished and you stop treatment, you will regain some of the original mass, although some reduction will be permanent. The effects are pretty quick. You’ll likely see them within a day. Since we’ve taken your measurements, we can give you a precise dosage to reduce side effects. However, there will likely be some. The most notable may be a pain in the gonads and penile area and the possibility of gynecomastia, which may also cause tenderness. ”

The man nodded.

“Please lie face down on the bed and remove your gown,” instructed the doctor.

The man did as he was told, climbing onto the bed and sliding his gown down. The man was sweating.

“I don’t think restraints will be necessary, Gareth,” she said to the guard.

The doctor prepared a syringe on the table to one side. She quickly located her preferred side of the injection near the base of his buttock and took the syringe to it.

“Sharp scratch,” she said as the needle went in. It stayed in for several seconds as it emptied into the man’s body.

“That’s it. Get dressed, and Gareth will take you back to your room.”


The man woke in the middle of the night from a nightmare and briefly screamed. Nobody was there to hear him. He felt pain between his legs and held his testicles. They were already tender, and he could feel them shrinking.

Every night he woke, he could feel his manhood in pain and getting smaller. At the same time, he noticed his chest aching and swelling. His nipples were especially tender and had started to elongate. He could no longer lie in front of the aching pain in his chest.

Days blurred together, and his mind was filled with thoughts of his manhood leaving him.


Weeks later, the treatment had taken full effect. He desperately tried to arouse himself, making it grow and deny what was happening to him. No matter what he tried, his manhood now stood just two centimeters long when erected. It was smaller than he had ever remembered it being.

At the same time, his breasts had become weighty enough to make his back ache if he sat up for too long. His muscles weren’t used to this constant weight on his chest. His nipples were now huge in the cold room. They stuck out prominently from under his robe.

During a meeting with his parole officer, she informed him that he would be transferred tomorrow for the second part of his sentencing.


The man was led down the spartan corridor. A few staff members passed him, smirking at him as they did. The whole staff knew where he was going.

A short van ride later, he was taken into a small studio in an unassuming but heavily guarded He was left in a room with his clothes, which he had forfeited before entering his holding facility. They asked him to wear a plain shirt and jeans.

His breast growth meant that the shirt was now quite tight. His nipples protruded from them prominently, and he tried to cover them.

Sometime later, a runner with a headset came to the room and asked him to come with her. They walked through an empty studio complex until they reached the wings of a studio flooded with TV lighting. A crowd of women sat facing a stage on which a box stood.

“The host is going to call for you in a moment. You need to go and stand on that box,” said the runner, who promptly left him standing at the side of the stage.

A woman stood on the stage with a handheld microphone and began to address a camera opposite.

“Our next offender was convicted only a few months ago, and we are going to make sure to show him what we think of him, aren’t we girls?” goaded the host. A cheer from the audience came up.

“Come on over!” she said, gesturing to the man.

As instructed, he walked over to the host and stepped into the brightly lit box in the center of the stage.

“Alright, as per your sentence, you must answer me truthfully and do whatever I ask. Got it?” the host said, looking slightly up at the man.

He nodded.

“What’s your full name?” the host asked.

“It’s Andrew. Andrew Cudson,” said the man speaking for the first time in months.

“And your full address?”

“21 Lexington Avenue, Sh-Shorefield.”

“And, what is your crime? Don’t name your victims, Andrew,” warned the host.

“I-I, err, raped three w-women. With a drug,” Andrew stuttered.

“You absolute pig. I don’t pity you for what we’re about to do,” said the host, with venom, before turning to the side to indicate for help.

“Stay still,” the host instructed. She deftly undid his jeans, button and fly, in a swift motion before yanking them, and his boxers, to the floor.

Immediately the audience burst out screaming and laughing. Unerect, his penis was practically invisible.

“HAHA. Look at that tiny thing!” the host shouted.

“Where is it?” asked a voice from the crowd.

“My clit is bigger than that!” said another.

The man looked directly at the camera, turning entirely red.

“Fucking hell, that thing is worthless. No woman would want that.” said the host quietly to his face.

“Alright, you know what comes next, don’t you ladies?” said the host to the audience.

“Make him jerk it off!” roared the audience in unison.

“Exactly. We’ll need to help him a bit, aren’t we? Let’s see what’s under that shirt shall we?” the host asked, sliding her hands under his shirt and yanking it over his head.

“Bwahaha… Nice tits, mate,” said the host. “Oh man, they’re almost as big as mine! You’d make a good girl, you know?” the host continued to goad before walking behind him.

The man stood there, now entirely naked, in front of the cameras and the audience. The host, standing behind, slipped her hands up his torso.

“Let’s make that tiny dick wake up, shall we?” she said as she teased his nipples.

The man let his head go back. He could feel himself becoming aroused, despite not wanting to. The audience hooted and screamed.

“Ohh yeah, check it out. It’s standing to attention! Tell me what it’s like, girls!” the host continued rubbing him.

“It’s an inch!”

“No, less than an inch!”

“Those are tiny balls!”

The host took a small cup from her pocket and spoke quietly into the man’s ear.

“You’re going to cum in this. Go on. Jerk your pathetic cock,”

The man looked ahead, winced, then closed his eyes. He took his penis up between his forefinger and thumb and started to rub it.

The audience howled again.

“Jerk it, asshole!”

“Pathetic! Pathetic!”

He kept on jerking, eyes closed. The host came around in front of him and slapped him.

“Look at me. Look at the camera while you jerk off your pathetic loser dick.”

He did as he was told, looking straight into the camera’s lens and rubbing his penis. He sped up, trying to make the experience over.

“Ah-ah-ah,” the host said, grabbing his hands away and leaving his small member floating in the air.

“Slowly. Build up what little cum you have,” said the host quietly into his ear, letting go of his hand.

He continued stroking, slower than before. His face was bright red.

“You are pathetic. Pathetic. No woman would want you, and now you can’t have them. Not with that tiny thing. It wouldn’t even go in,” the host continued to taunt him as he jerked.

The man’s lip quivered.

“Oh, are we almost ready to cum?” the host asked. “Tell me, loser.”

“Y-yes,” said the man.

“Cum then. Cum in this little pot,” she said, holding out a small mouthwash cup.

He rubbed faster and faster, then a dribble of cum came out of the tip of his penis. The host used the cup to scoop it up off him.

“Oh, wow, that’s even less than I thought. Makes it easier for you, I guess,” said the host.

The man looked puzzled, then realized…

“Eat it.”

The host shoved the cup into his mouth and held his nose.

“FUCKING EAT IT!” she yelled.

The man opened his mouth and let the cum slide onto his tongue. He winced and swallowed it.

“Good little loser. Wasn’t he a good little loser, girls?”

The crowd roared.

“Now get the fuck out of here,” the host said, almost spitting on him as she shoved him off the box.

He staggered off, trying to pull his jeans up as he ran from the stage.

“And that was the public humiliation of Andrew Cudson. If you spot him on the street, tell him how much of a loser he is and what you thought of his tiny dick,” said the host to the camera.


The End.


*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, formatting errors, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed (That’s the author’s job). The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here.

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