My friends and I hit up this dive bar recently, knocking back beers until we were all buzzing pretty good. The place was packed, laughter echoing off the sticky walls, and I felt that familiar urge to piss after one too many rounds. I stumbled into the restroom, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry hornets, and zipped up to the urinal next to some random dude who was already mid-stream.

I glanced over out of habit—guys do that sometimes, right, and caught him staring right at my dick. Not just a quick peek, but full-on gawking, his eyes locked on my limp little nub as it dribbled out a weak stream. It’s barely two inches soft, hanging there pathetic and exposed, the head all pink and shriveled from the cold air. He didn’t even try to hide it; his piss kept flowing, but his gaze stayed glued, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he’d just spotted the punchline to some cruel joke.

“What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath, shaking off the last drops and trying to tuck my tiny dick back into my pants without it looking even smaller

What was worse was that he made no effort to hide his pants python. Even soft, it was seven inches long and thick as hell. The piss stream that came out of it was intense and loud. I blushed at the sight of his huge, soft cock, knowing even my dick, erect, would be half the size of his soft penis. I’m sure many of the guys reading this know exactly what that feels like.

He finally looked up, meeting my eyes with this smug grin, and chuckled low. “Dude, seriously? That’s all you got? No wonder you’re hiding it in those baggy jeans.” His voice was casual, like we were old buddies ribbing each other, but it hit like a gut punch.

I felt my face heat up, my dick twitching uselessly as I zipped up.

I tried to play it cool, forcing a laugh. “Jealous much? Not everyone’s packing like a porn star. At least I don’t wreck a girl so bad she can’t even walk straight from the pain.”

But he just shook his head, finishing his piss with a strong, satisfied arc that splashed loud against the porcelain—way more impressive than my pathetic trickle. “Nah, man, it’s not jealousy. It’s a pity. That little thing couldn’t satisfy a flea. Bet the girls laugh behind your back.” He zipped up slowly, giving my crotch one last lingering look before stepping back to the sink. “Keep it up, short stuff. Maybe one day it’ll grow.”

I washed my hands quick, avoiding the mirror because I knew I’d see the embarrassment written all over my face, and bolted back to the table. My buddies were still cracking up over some dumb story, and the girl who’d hooked up with me a few months back, let’s call her Jess, was there too, nursing her drink with that knowing smile. Everyone knew we’d banged. Hell, she’d bragged about it once when she was tipsy, but never spilled the details. Or so I thought.

I slid into my seat, trying to shake off the restroom roast, and launched into the tale to make it sound less humiliating.

“So, get this… I’m in the john, and this dude next to me is straight-up checking out my junk, like, eyeing me up like I’m the main course. Creepy as hell, right? Guy’s probably closeted or something.”

I puffed out my chest, turning it into a funny anecdote about some queer bathroom perv.

The table went quiet for a beat, then Jess burst out laughing, slamming her hand on the wood. “Oh, please,” she snorted, wiping a tear from her eye. “He must’ve been thinking, ‘Oh, poor guy with that tiny prick.’ No way he was into you. He was just shocked at how small it is!”

Her words hung in the air, and then the dam broke.

My friends erupted, howling like hyenas, beers sloshing as they pounded the table.

“Dude, small dick energy confirmed!” my buddy Mike yelled, pointing at me with his bottle. “That’s why you always wear those loose pants, eh? Trying to hide the micropenis?”

Another friend, Sarah, chimed in, giggling uncontrollably. “Jess, spill… Did it even reach? I bet you faked every orgasm just to be nice.”

Jess leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s just say I needed a magnifying glass to find it. It poked around like a lost worm, but with zero thrust. Pathetic.”

I sat there, cheeks burning, my dick shrinking even smaller in my mind as the laughter rolled on. They kept piling it on.

“Bet that urinal guy felt bad for you, like seeing a chihuahua next to a Great Dane,” someone joked.

I could only laugh along weakly, the humiliation twisting in my gut like a knife. Deep down, though, part of me got hard under the table from the raw exposure, the whole group knowing exactly how inadequate I was. The night blurred into more drinks and digs, every toast feeling like another jab at my worthless little nub.

 

The End.

 

 

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