Ring of Shame (Gay/Bi SPH)
Do you know how a turtle hides its head? How its head slides inward and out-of-site? That’s my husbands’ penis. It is so small it inverts back into its shell. In his case, his scrotum. His scrotal sack is his shell, and his penis hides in there most of the time.
What’s a wife to do with a penis that small?
The answer is nothing.
I insisted we measure it one time, which embarrassed my husband, but just so you know how accurate I’m being, his ‘little dinkus’ is 1 ¾ inch. One might think that, perhaps, there’s a lot of foreskin there. Maybe that’s why it’s regularly in retreat. Nope. Dinkus is circumcised. He is just that small. The penile shaft is so short that the head is often slipping inward and inverting his penis.
With his inability to properly fuck me and his lack of interest in properly eating my pussy, early in our marriage, I started fucking around. At first, I felt guilty. Then I realized my infidelity was actually his fault. I got angry, and I took out my anger on him. And he took it. He was so intimidated by me that he would do whatever my anger told him to do.
First was the unusual ways I was making him masturbate. I noticed that whenever his penis head was attempting to surface, the action of pressing the head back into the scrotum was creating some tactile sensation to the head and the underside of his tiny dinkus. This gave me an idea. So, I tested out a theory I had. I’d push his head into its nut sack and circle the area with a single finger. If it tried to escape, I’d force it back in. And then I’d circle his scrotum in little circles, thereby touching his tiny dinkus through his skin. It looked very similar to a woman circling her clitoris with a finger.
And sure enough, it worked!
He orgasmed inside his nut sack. And just as a little sperm tried to seep out his slit, I took duct tape and sealed his scrotum so his sperm could swim around his own little penile cocoon.
Now that I knew this worked, variations to this scenario were how I expected him to beat off. I ordered him to succeed in a variety of positions.
The first was the edge of the bathtub. I had him straddle the edge with one knee in and one knee out. I had him rock and rub his tiny little inverted penis using the firm tub edge to force his penis head back in each time it tried to get out. The tub rim gave him pleasure as he circled his pelvis and inverted penis on the hard edge.
He came in minutes. It worked wonderfully. I thought about spanking his exposed butt but decided not to. It was fun to watch him rock and rub until he had an orgasm in the tub. I could see his little butt hole clenching as he held a firm thrust when he came. He was shooting his sperm inside his own body. Then I placed a wide strip of duct tape on his scrotum crevice, tucking the sperm in its ball sack so it could swim around his tiny shaft.
The next position would be floor humping. With an inverted penis, of course. Dinkus would have to grind hard against the floor to get the proper angle to force his penis head back into his scrotum each time he lifted. It would attempt to escape. From my position, it looked like he was attempting to fuck the floor. I teased him that this was good for his muscle memory. This was good practice in case someday he actually got to try to fuck a real woman. He mastered this fucking technique of cumming inside himself quickly. He met each subsequent orgasm with the duct tape seal of approval.
He learned to bring the tape with him and apply it to himself immediately after cumming to ensure none of the sperm would escape. He wore the pink roll of duct tape on his wrist like a bracelet, allowing his ability to immediately pull off a strip and self-apply the seal of approval. He also took to shaving his balls because when the time came to remove the seal to pee, the duct tape was ripping out his pubic hair anyway.
With his newly learned ability to cum inside his scrotum, I wanted to see him masturbate himself with just one finger. Just like a woman circling her clitoris, Dinkus would circle his nut sack with his inverted penis. I ordered him to put his ankles in the sky. When he came, I enjoyed watching his anus sphincter twitching and counted each spasm, imaging the sperm he was shooting into his own ball sack. And even though this was fun-and I recorded it once-I eventually got bored.
I was still so mad at my husband for bringing a micropenis into our marriage, my anger transferred to his balls. It pissed me off to see them hanging between his legs, impersonating a virile man. Why did he need balls? What did he need testicles for anyway? They were useless appendages. I was sick of seeing his useless balls dangling there like some power symbol. His testes basically served no purpose, and I have angrily decided that I don’t want to see them anymore. Besides, when my lovers come over, they don’t want to see his balls either. My husband came forth with a plan. For as long as we were together, he promised I would never have to see his testicles again. He offered a solution: The Ring of Shame.
He would plan to wear The Ring of Shame in my presence (and my lover’s presence) whenever he was naked that I’d never had to see his pathetic useless balls dangling between his legs again. His scrotum sack would droop empty, paying homage to my request and thereby represent that he would appear ball less for his hot cuckolding wife. Whenever he was naked, he would wear The Ring of Shame.
Dinkus would be testicle tucking for the duration of our marriage. The Ring of Shame sits snugly at the base of the penis. It’s an O ring anyone can buy from your local hardware store. After placing the penis through the “O,” the scrotum is slowly pulled through the ring, too. The testicles are forced into the inguinal canal, with their final resting place being the pubic mound. The penis and the empty scrotum go through the ring. The result is a scrotal sack drooping completely and embarrassingly empty just below his tiny penis. His dinkus can’t invert when he is temporarily ballless. I have never been more pleased. I absolutely loved this.
The Ring of Shame (ROS) was an all-around huge hit. Our symbolic “wedding ring” that my husband would wear to show my lovers his commitment to our marriage. I’d have him drop his drawers and show the wedding ring to my girlfriends upon request, too.
The ROS got me thinking if my husband theoretically has no balls, and his dinkus is really more like a large clit, then realistically, he more resembles a woman-than a man-below the waist. So why not live more truly? My anger told me that if I married a woman, why isn’t she adorned in panties? And what’s with the remaining pubic hair?
I made arrangements for permanent pubic hair removal, but in the meantime, he must shave his mound bald and keep it that way. With his testicles tucked up in there, his mons pubis was exactly like a woman.
From this point forward, it was panties only. A bald mound, a large clit, and an empty scrotal sack belong in panties. That’s pretty obvious to anyone. It was past time for his genitalia to match with the appropriate corresponding attire.
Even though he doesn’t have much, his body hair was too masculine for his new feminine representation. So my husband and I agreed he should go on female hormones. This worked seamlessly what little body hair he used to have stopped growing, and a wonderful byproduct was the slight proportions of his body fat.
Next up was the focus on his budding slight breasts. He reluctantly agreed to the necessity of wearing training bras. His hairless chest had itty bitty titties that needed a training bra. He has measured as a 38aaa, the lovely result of being on female hormones. He certainly couldn’t walk around with his tits exposed, right? I wouldn’t want to offend anyone. We went out and bought an assortment of training bras-size 38 with a triple a cup-from the local retail store in the teen section.
I encouraged him to grow his head hair. He might look better if he was more androgynous or even more feminine. As my lovers would come over, they would often ask about his gender. I’d have my husband strip so they could decide for themselves. In panties, with an empty scrotum, they often guessed woman. Then I’d have Dinkus strip nude and watch me get properly fucked. At which point my lovers would ask, ‘what happened to his balls.’ And then I would point to our wedding band: The Ring of Shame.
One time, a new potential lover named Simon came over. He was a very handsome black man with a nice butt and chiseled features. Simon saw my husband prancing around in panties and a training bra with his hair in long braids now cascading down to his shoulders. His thin, hairless body looked very feminine and, to Simon, very fuckable. Simon asked if I mind that he fuck my husband after he fucked me.
Well, I don’t share, so I said no, but the idea that my husband would get fucked like a woman hadn’t occurred to me. And now, because I immediately fell in love with the idea, I wanted to strike while the iron was hot. I was pretty certain, Dinkus wouldn’t go for this, so I would make it happen outside of his control.
I arranged for a game of strip poker. My husband was clueless as to where this was headed. I served Margaritas and dealt the cards. With only a bra and panties on, it would only take two losing hands for my husband to be butt naked.
Funny! He lost the first two hands. Simon and I sat there fully clothed while we discussed what happens next.
“The winner of each hand gets something they request from the loser until a second person is naked,” I declared.
“Sounds great to me,” Simon confirmed.
Before my husband could speak up, we noted that he was already outvoted. And again, he lost the next hand.
Simon requested a french kiss from the result of spin-the-bottle. That way, it wouldn’t be obvious where this game was headed. When the pointer landed on my husband, he was flush with embarrassment. He had never kissed a man before-not to my knowledge and looked to me in hopes that I’d stop the game. Hell, the game was my idea.
“Go over there and kiss your new boyfriend,” I teased.
My husband went and sat completely naked in Simon’s lap. They shared a first kiss. And then a second. Pretty soon, they were making out. It was erotic to see my feminine husband kissing and making out with a handsome black man. When they finally separated, my husband went back to his seat while constantly twirling his hair in circles with his index finger.
Simon won the very next hand and boldly stated that he wanted to feel up my husbands’ ass in his hands. I think, he thought, that a request like this would end the game. Silly hubby, it’s just getting started.
“Stand up and turn around,” Simon ordered. I giggled to see my husband now in Simon’s control and blushing and shifting nervously about and almost certainly wondering what was up. I cuddled up to a fresh drink, ready for my show to begin.
Simon came up behind him and lightly cupped an ass cheek in his hand. Simon gently rubbed and felt up the entire surface area off my husbands’ ass. It’s done so tenderly that my husband unexpectedly moaned and turned his neck to look back at Simon. Simon met this glance with an aggressive mouth-open french kiss. Simon drove his tongue deep into my husbands’ mouth while groping his bare ass cheeks with his large, strong hands and pinning my husband up against the wall. This was quite the sight; my hairless husband wearing his marital The Ring of Shame getting manhandled and french kissed by Simon. This was on. This was so on.
I looked down and noticed a tiny erection. Shit, was my husbands’ dinkus hard? It was! It was! Why didn’t I think of this sooner? My ball less husband is a panty-wearing sissy. This makes perfect sense. Why should I be the only one to get fucked? Why shouldn’t we both have lovers come over and fuck the shit out of us? He can enjoy a man’s cock just as much as I can, right?
“Can I use the bathroom?” husband breathlessly asked between rounds of suck face.
While my husband went off to the bathroom, I fetched some KY Jelly for Simon and whispered into his ear, “Go For It!”
Sissy’s husband was gone for a long time. I do not know what he was doing for all the time he was in the bathroom, but he smelled of perfume and nicely brushed his hair and teeth when he returned.
Without anyone saying a word, the sissy husband slid right up against the wall to the same position. Wow. I thought. Zero resistance. Where did he think this was all going to lead to? Perhaps, he didn’t care. Or maybe, his hard little dinkus was sending messages to his brain to give in.
The couple went right back to french kissing. Simon began fondling sissy’s husbands’ butt more aggressively, opening up his butt cheeks and exposing a tight little butt hole. Simon lubed his middle finger and shoved it fully up sissy’s husbands’ ass. I can’t recall ever seeing my husbands’ eyes open that wide. He was trying to talk, but his voice was all muffled from the french kissing, and he was definitely moaning now. I’m sure I heard moaning.
Simon unbuckled his pants-which dropped to the floor, and he stepped out of them quickly. When Simon began to rub his large black cock in the crevice of sissy’s butt, it looked like he was fucking my husband, which for the first time, perhaps, sissy realized he was about to get fucked.
The sissy husband started trying to squirm out of this pinned position and whispered ‘oh, no’ while his face turned beet red. But his ‘oh, no’ almost sounded like an ‘oh, oh’ like an ‘oh, I can’t believe this is actually happening.’
Simon made it clear that ‘no’ meant ‘yes’ when used in this way. And that feminine men want to be taken. Sissy men want to act like they don’t want it when deep down, they know inside they do. A resounding confirming ‘NO’ would be needed to stop this ass fuck from happening.
The sissy husband was sending conflicting messages. He was acting like he was trying to get away while meeting Simon’s thrust in the same rhythmic motion and whispering ‘oh, no’ occasionally while his little dinkus protruded to a three-inch erection. Maybe he thought Simon was going to cum this way. Silly husband, Simon, was planning on cumming inside Sissy’s ass.
Simon squatted slightly to position his huge black cock squarely on the entrance of sissy’s round little butt hole.
Another feeble ‘oh, no…please, no’ could be heard quietly followed by an ‘ooh, gaaawwd’ signaling to everyone in the room that the large black cock head had pierced the tight puckered hole and was on its way into my husband’s rectum.
Every time the sissy husband whispered ‘oh gawd, no’ Simon answered louder with a ‘Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes.’
Whatever was going on in mind was unclear, but the body was sending clear messages. My husband was meeting the fuck thrusts while the hard, little pickle between his legs bobbed up and down and bounced around, spraying little droplets of excitement that dribbled out of its tiny head. I can’t recall seeing him that hard, ever. In fact, I don’t even recall seeing him hard at all lately.
Simon was using this feminine butt for his complete pleasure. It was clear that he was an experienced butt fucker and was going to work slower and quicker at different times, working sissy into a most helpless state of submission. Sissy was getting completely pummeled, becoming sweaty and weak, barely able to hold up his body. Simon was fucking the shit out of this virgin ass hole, making sure he got every glorious moment he could before giving in to orgasm.
It was Simon’s turn to say ‘oh, no…oh, no,’ because a huge load was squirting deep into my husband’s ass.
“I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” Simon announced for both of our benefits. Simon shot squirt after squirt of warm cum deep into sissy husband’s ass.
I got to watch the whole thing. And in doing so, several new ideas started rushing through my head. Things like: My husband likes to be ass fucked like a woman / Maybe he ought to be a woman / Perhaps. I should finally convert him into one.
*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Just remember, even with the limited editing we do, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.