Recently, I headed to a Halloween party on my college campus, the kind where cheap booze flows freely, and costumed girls in skimpy outfits pack the house. The place was a typical off-campus rental—cramped, loud, and with just one bathroom that turned into a nightmare line after the first hour. Everyone was buzzing from shots and beer, laughter echoing off the walls as fake cobwebs and jack-o’-lanterns set the spooky vibe. I felt pretty good, chatting up a few people, but nature called hard after pounding a few drinks.

Most of the guys had the same idea: head out back to the storage shed tucked in the dark corner of the yard, away from the porch lights. I slipped outside alone, the cool night air hitting my face as I unzipped and pulled out my soft little dick to start peeing against the rough wooden side of the shed. Relief washed over me, the stream hitting the ground steadily, no one around to interrupt.

Then I heard giggles and footsteps crunching on the grass. Three girls, all dressed in slutty costumes—a witch with a short black skirt, a nurse in a tight white top that hugged her cleavage, and a devil girl with red horns and a tail swaying behind her—stumbled out from the party, clearly tipsy and needing to pee too. They spotted me mid-stream and froze for a second before heading straight my way, not bothering to detour.

The witch, with her dark hair spilling out from under her hat, covered her mouth and burst out laughing. “Sorry, we won’t look,” she said, but her eyes were already darting down, and the sarcasm dripped from her voice like she was daring me to believe it.

The nurse, blonde and bold in her low-cut outfit, rolled her eyes and smirked. “Fuck that, I’m gonna look…” She stepped closer, heels clicking, her gaze locking right on my exposed cock as I tried to finish peeing without shaking too much.

By the time they were a few feet away, the stream tapered off, but my dick was starting to twitch under their stares—traitorously reacting to the attention. The nurse squinted, leaning in like she was inspecting something tiny and lost.

“Where is it?” she asked, her voice rising in mock confusion as she scanned my groin.

Then she spotted it, her face lighting up with pure amusement. She threw her head back and laughed, a sharp, cutting sound that made my cheeks burn. Without missing a beat, she pinched her thumb and forefinger together—the universal small dick sign—and waved it right in front of my face.

“Oh shit, there it is! It’s like a little baby carrot hiding in the bushes. No wonder you’re out here alone. That thing’s microscopic!”

The other two cracked up, the witch doubling over as she hitched up her skirt to squat nearby, not caring about privacy anymore. But the devil girl, who’d been quiet up to now—brunette with fiery red lipstick and a skimpy bodysuit that showed off her toned legs—pushed past them. She dropped to her knees right in front of me, getting eye level with my crotch, her tail brushing the ground as she tilted her head for a better view. Her eyes widened, then narrowed in disbelief.

“Holy fuck, it’s even smaller up close. Dude, why are you getting hard right now? Look at that… It’s trying so hard to grow, but it’s still pathetic.”

I couldn’t help it; the humiliation hit me like a rush, blood surging south despite—or because of—their stares. My cock stiffened fully, standing at its max of three inches, what I’d jokingly call gold member status in the hierarchy of small dicks. It bobbed there, exposed and useless, veins pulsing under their scrutiny. The devil girl pieced it together quick, her lips curling into a wicked grin.

“Wait… You like this, don’t you? Getting called out for your tiny prick turns you on. Pathetic little perv. Fine, if you’re that desperate, stroke it. Show us what that nub can do.”

My hand moved on autopilot, wrapping around the short shaft—fingers barely needing to grip—as I started pumping. They watched intently, the nurse still flashing the small dick sign like a cheerleader, chanting softly, “Go, tiny, go! Bet it won’t take long with that shrimp.”

The witch finished peeing and stood up, wiping her hands on her thighs before joining in. “Yeah, jerk that little worm. I’ve seen bigger clits on porn stars.”

Their words drilled into me, each tease making my strokes faster, the shame fueling the build-up.

It was over in twenty seconds flat. My balls tightened, and I gasped, “I’m gonna… Fuck, I’m cumming.”

Ropes of cum shot out weakly, splattering the grass in front of the shed—barely anything, just a sad little spurt that made them explode into hysterics.

The devil girl clapped her hands, howling. “Twenty seconds? More like ten! That was the quickest, saddest nut I’ve ever seen. Your dick’s not just small… It’s premature as hell. Clean that mess up and get lost, micro-man.”

The nurse wiped tears from her eyes, still laughing. “Yeah, go hide that thing before someone mistakes it for a clit and tries to finger bang you.”

Face flaming, I tucked myself away, zipping up as they sauntered back inside, whispering and giggling about the ‘tiny pee boy.’ I hung back a minute to wipe off with a leaf or whatever, then slunk into the party, hoping to blend in and salvage the night.

*****

Later, I was in the living room, mustering the courage to chat with a group of girls near the keg. Two sorority types in cat ears and a zombie cheerleader, all with friendly smiles, as I cracked a joke. Things were looking up until the devil girl appeared out of nowhere, sidling up with a devilish smirk. She slung an arm around my shoulder like we were buddies and announced loudly enough for the whole room to hear, “Hey, ladies, don’t waste your time with him. He’s got a tiny babydick—like, actual baby size—and he cums in like ten seconds flat. I made him jerk it outside, and it was over before I could blink. Trust me, you’ll need a microscope just to find it.”

The girls I was talking to burst out laughing, one covering her mouth while the other outright snorted. “For real? Show us the sign!” the cat-eared one demanded, and the devil girl obliged, pinching her fingers tiny again. Whispers spread like wildfire.

“Did you hear about the guy with the micro-dick?” and heads turned my way with smirks and giggles.

I mumbled an excuse and bolted to a corner, nursing my drink alone as the party raged on without me.

Suffice it to say, I didn’t get any action that night, or much eye contact from anyone after. The humiliation stuck, replaying in my head long after the costumes came off, a reminder that my little secret was out, and it was the smallest joke of the evening.

 

The End.

 

 

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