I didn’t plan on it, but my girlfriend, Karen, met my mother a few weeks ago. Nothing is worse than being forced to look at photos from your childhood with your girlfriend and your mother.

It was torture, and after the evening was over, Karen’s attitude toward me had turned. I didn’t hear from her again. I know why. It was the goddamned nude pictures of me. Hell, I was only seven at the time, but I was stark naked there.

I can remember my mother’s reaction, “Oh my Danny! I almost forgot how small you were!” My heart sank as I realized that I had slammed into a brick wall. Here was my girlfriend of only two weeks, looking at unflattering pictures of me. “Yep, Danny was a late bloomer. So cute, a very little shmackel, just like his father.” They both laughed at my expense. I was speechless; I couldn’t believe my mother had said that in front of my girlfriend. I felt so belittled.

After the evening was over, I drove Karen home, kissed her goodnight, and saw her off. That was the last I had heard of her. Of course, I had tried ringing her all week but had had no luck.

I eventually cornered her in between classes and asked her why she hadn’t been returning my calls, “Look, Danny, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re compatible. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I couldn’t believe it. As she left me standing there with my jaw hanging open, I wondered if the baby photos of me helped her reach that decision. I began to obsess about her, frequently visiting her Facebook page and jerking off to the pictures of her. I jerked it. I wondered what it would’ve been like to have had her. I wept as I came into my gym sock.

I didn’t know that Karen was having a good time, telling all her friends about my ‘little shmackel’ as my mother had so eloquently put it. She had told a small circle of friends, and the rumors spread.

The day I discovered something wasn’t right was when I lost my manhood. I remember it vividly. I was in the cafeteria, and as I passed the cheerleader squad, they all began to whisper, snicker and giggle amongst themselves. They were also pointing at me. I had no idea what was so hysterical, so I approached them and asked. Before I could say anything, one of them said, “How’s your little shmackel?” Everyone laughed. They could barely contain themselves. I was humiliated; my face turned three shades of red, “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Although it only happened in seconds, it felt as though time stood still. I made a prompt exit with my tail between my legs. Later that day, I decided to approach Karen about the whole situation.

“I can’t believe you told everyone that I had a little dick!” I said.

“umm, I don’t know what you’re on about,” she said, obviously lying.

“I was seven years old! That’s not me, Karen! You should have just given me a chance! Do you have any idea what you have done to me? To my reputation!?” I was distraught at that point.

“Get over yourself, Danny. I didn’t tell the cheerleader squad about your baby dick, don’t blame me,” she was calm, relaxed, and collected.

“Well, someone told them!” I shouted at her.

“Yeah, I admit, I told some friends about it. I didn’t think they would tell anyone else. It was all just a bit of silly fun,” she said.

“Silly fun?? They’re all calling me little shmackel!”

“No offense, but my brother is seven, and his ‘shmackel’ is probably at least four times bigger. You can say that you were a late bloomer, but I’ve never noticed any bulge in your pants,” it was clear to me then that she wanted to hurt me. She smiled upon finishing.

Hurt, I walked away, wondering what would possess her to go out of her way to humiliate me like that publicly. It didn’t make any sense to me.

Later that night, as I sat at my computer, jerking to her Facebook page, I realized that the recent events of the day made me horny, very horny. As I jerked it to her image, I imagined her laughing about my penis and telling all her friends that I was hung like a peanut. It was the quickest and most intense ‘jerk-off’ session I had ever had. Thus, my obsession with the small penis humiliation fetish grew with her.

Each evening I would jerk off to the recent events of the day. More than likely, someone would be giggling at me or whispering and pointing. It was usually a group of girls. I would imagine stripping down and exposing myself to all of them, “God! That would be hot! I wonder what they would do? They would laugh! Ahh, they would, mpf! Argh!”

As the weeks passed, people soon became tired of the joke and eventually stopped teasing me. Even though I became a social outcast, I still wanted it to continue. I wanted to fuel the fire.

Many of my former friends on Facebook had now blocked me, and I could no longer see their pages. Karen was the first to block me. This stung more so because she was my primary source of humiliation.

I decided to make one final hoorah! To humiliate me once and for all.

At the end of the semester, there was always a big party at Henry Deehan’s house. This year, however, I wasn’t invited…. go figure. Regardless, I decided to go and see what would happen.

At first, Henry was surprised to see me, but he eventually dismissed the fact, which was good because I wanted to find Karen and finish this.

I planned to corner her, drop my pants and show her the goods. I made sure that I was extra small that night. I put a frozen bag of peas down my pants. That would most certainly shrink me good. Hell, my reputation was over. I might as well destroy it with a bang!

And there she was, in the kitchen with a small group of her friends. This was my chance. It was now or never. I casually walked up to them.

They all noticed me coming and turned to face me. My heart was beating so fast. My hands were shaking, and I was breathing so heavily. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity.

Eventually, Karen said, “Yeah?”

This was my moment. I undid my top button, unzipped my pants, and pulled them down.

No laughter. Everyone gasped. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for. Everyone looked disgusted, mortified.

“You need to see a shrink! You got serious mental problems.” Karen said. They all turned away, ignoring me, continuing with their conversation.

I turned to look behind me. Everyone was in awe, shocked that I would do such a thing. No one laughed. Everyone looked sorry for me. Someone in the background shouted out, “Sick fuck!” someone else shouted, “Fucking loser!”

When Henry came up to me and said, “I think you should leave Danny.”

Embarrassed, I pulled my pants up and slowly walked out of there. Everyone stared as I slowly made my way through the crowd.

I turned to face the party, “So no one found my shmackel funny?” I asked.

Silence.

Later that night, I cried. It is not the way I wanted it to happen. Yes, I did humiliate myself, but I pictured it differently in my mind. I imagined everyone pointing and laughing, and I pictured everyone making small penis jokes.

Instead, I got cold crystal stares.

My fantasy took over. Next time, I’ll keep it to myself.

 

The End.

 

*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even with limited editing. It doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed.