The Artists Model
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Tina was an artist. At 28, she owned her own art gallery in a posh area in the city. She was smart, outgoing and overly confident. Tall, brunette, blue eyed, she could melt a cheese sandwich from across the room.
I met her on opening night. The company I worked for was having a Christmas party and it was to be held at Tina’s gallery. It was a great atmosphere. Tina soon became everyone’s acquaintance. Everyone I worked with knew Tina.
She’d even dated a few executives that worked under me. It wasn’t until the 14th of February, Valentines day; that we truly got to know one another. I was on an abysmal date with a woman I’d met on the Subway. She was like a cold fish. She didn’t laugh at any of my jokes and didn’t seem to care about anything I said.
After my date was over, to clear my head, I decided to go over to Tina’s gallery. I was the only one there. There was something eerie about being alone on Valentines day.
It was then that I saw her, Tina. She didn’t expect anyone to be in her gallery at this hour, alone. “I know you.” she said in a playful manner.
“Yes, I’m Tim Summers. I come in here from time to time.”
“What are you doing alone on Valentines day?” she asked.
I told her about my date and the troubles of finding someone to connect with. This lead to a conversation about relationships, which led to dinner, which led to a kiss, which lead to her saying, “Wanna come up to my place for some coffee?”
I was in heaven. She lived in a studio apartment, very posh… and of course, she wasn’t interested in having coffee. As soon as we entered the apartment, she jumped me. She led me over to the sofa where we proceeded to made out like teenagers.
As we continued to fondle each other I could feel my bulge pressing up against my trousers. My pride was so hard, it hurt. I was literally ready to burst. I was enjoying her: her every scent, her every kiss. She was just so damn intoxicating.
Eventually, she pulled herself off me and sat back. She let out a sigh and just smiled at me.
She removed her left shoe and proceeded to rub my crotch with her foot. I moaned as she giggled at my response.
Then she said something that took me completely by surprise. “Can I paint you?”
I was taken back by that. “What? You want to paint me?”
She giggled again. “I think you’re a beautiful man. I’d love to have you forever. Who knows, I might even put you up in my gallery next Saturday night”
Suddenly, I was overcome with anxiety. I would be on show, to everyone I knew, helpless and exposed. I was loosing my erection, overcome with extreme nervousness. She could sense my discomfort and continued to giggle at my expense. “It will be fun.” She reassured me.
I had to act fast. If I refused, chances were that I would not get to fuck her today; when will I ever have another chance like this? “Okay” I said without thinking.
“Great!” she said leaping from the sofa. “Why don’t you get undressed and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
As she left the room, I immediately regretted my decision. But it was too late, it was the point of no return. If I backed down now, I would loose all credibility. What would she say? What would she think? What would she tell people if I refused to get naked in front of her?
As I slowly began to disrobe, I began to feel colder and colder. Any sense of excitement and arousal was now gone…. I know how I look when I’m flaccid; and its not at all flattering. I began to think; ‘what would be worse? If she saw me in my flaccid state or if I refused to expose myself to her?’
I had stripped down to my boxers when she waltzed in the room with all her utensils, all her brushes, paints and buckets. “Ready?” she asked.
I nodded yes and asked her where she wanted me to stand. “Why don’t you sit on the bench in the center of the room baby?”
I anxiously walked over to the bench and awaited further instructions. I stood there, like a helpless child watching her set up. It seemed as though she was taking forever. “Well?” she asked.
“Wa..Wa..What?” I said in a high-pitched voice.
“All the men I paint are naked. Take your boxers off.” She said with hungry eyes. “The best part of the painting is the penis.” She said grinning from ear to ear.
As I pulled my boxers down; she shrieked! I think I gave her the shock of her life! “eek! Ohmygod!” She covered her mouth and turned her head the other way. She was obviously embarrassed for me. I quickly covered myself with both hands, it was instinct.
Her face went beet red, embarrassed. Obviously, I could tell that she now saw me in a different light. Without facing me, she asked “Are you cold?”
“No, just nervous. I’ve never been painted before.” I admitted.
She regained her composure and said, “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Penises are funny little things. So unpredictable….. can I see it again? Can you move your hands out of the way?…..”
I was reluctant to.
“Oh come-on. I’m not like other girls, I won’t laugh at you, I promise.”
Slowly, I let my hands fall to my sides. She took a good long look. “hmmm. I think I’ll call this painting ‘the frightened turtle'” she let out another giggle as I covered myself once again in utter embarrassment.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” I pleaded with her
“I’m s..s..sorry. Really. I don’t mean to laugh. You just, just look so silly covering yourself like that. You look like a frightened turtle. Like a little boy!”
After several minutes of her giggle-fest, she finally started to compose herself. “Okay baby. Can I get you to sit on the bench?”
Following her instructions, (still covering myself) I sat on the cold steel bench in the center of the room. “That’s good…. Umm, try to strike a pose for me.”
I had no idea what she wanted me to do, “How to you mean?” I asked.
“Firstly, let go of Mr. Pinky Dinky…. Let go of him” A smile came across her face as I opened my hands again. “Okay and put your arms behind your back… lean on your arms.”
“Like this?” I asked as I leaned back.
“Yep…. And arch your back.”
I felt kind of silly as I arched my back as best I could. I kept my legs closed, in an attempt to conceal my shyness.
“That’s good baby….. but, can I get you to just spread you legs a little bit?”
I slowly opened my legs, exposing myself to her. “A bit more, open your legs up all the way.”
I stretched my legs wide open, exposing my pink 2inch stub and my plump, tight little balls to her. I felt so pathetic and helpless. Although I was flaccid, my pathetic member jutted out: pointing up at her. It must have looked like a tube of lipstick! I could tell she was trying hard not to laugh. Her face was beet red and she was grinning from ear to ear.
“That’s good. That’s very good.” She said as she continued to giggle to herself.
45 minutes passed and I was getting cramps. I was so uncomfortable. Not just because my penis was almost definitely getting smaller, but because my back was killing me. I must’ve looked so silly. The whole time she had that large grin on her face. She was taunting me. She knew what she was doing to me: to my ego, to my manhood… and I didn’t find it funny at all.
The prospect of fucking her was gone. I was no longer a man in her eyes. I would be something that she’d taunt or tease; not to my face, but behind my back; which is worse and far more demeaning. I had gone from being the object of her affection, to a dickless pathetic sissy boy. Of course, these thoughts only made me more anxious and even smaller.
“Finished” she finally said after what seemed like an eternity.
I quickly reached for my boxers and put them back on. “Can I see?”
“Sure” she said as she turned the painting around.
I was in shock. She couldn’t possibly be thinking of showing this in her gallery on Saturday night along with her other paintings. The painting was perfect, she had drawn me so precisely…. but without a penis, or at least what you could see.
“You, you forgot something.” I told her.
“No, that was you. That’s what you looked like.” She said.
“But, I have no penis!” I said on the verge of tears.
“Its there, but you need to look closely. See?” She pointed to my crotch on the painting, “there is your little dinky, poking up, pointing to the sky and there are your little testies”
My eyes watered up, “That’s not fair! That’s not me! That’s not me at all!” I protested.
“You gotta change it!” I yelled at her in desperation.
“Sorry, I don’t do that. Sorry…. I think this will be a big hit at my gallery on Saturday.”
Suddenly, I lost all control. I burst out into tears, I fell to my knees and begged. “Ohhh! Please no! God no! Please don’t! Please! It will ruin my reputation! My life! Please no! God no! Don’t expose me like this! Please!”
Moments later, I was sitting in her kitchen, fully clothed drinking a cup of tea she had made me. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“uh-huh” I responded, still sobbing.
“Look, I’m sorry about the painting. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I had no idea you’d react that way. I’ve never seen a guy cry before.” She seemed somewhat sorry for me, but obviously disgusted.
I finished my tea and left. She assured me that my secret would be safe with her. As I left, she said, “Sorry things didn’t work out between us hun, bye.”
I began to think, ‘If I hadn’t cried like a little sissy bitch, would she still have fucked me?’ Probably….. but then again, probably not.
Saturday came, and although I didn’t bother to go to her Gallery opening, I heard that it went well. The big hit of the night was her painting titled, ‘the frightened turtle’, which was the painting of a faceless man with a really tiny penis. So, she clearly kept her promise: she got her painting, and I got to keep my shame a secret…. but it was a secret that would come back to haunt me later on.
Six weeks later, I was out on a date with a woman I had met at my gym. Her name was Claudia. Claudia was a gorgeous woman in her late twenties. Tall, athletic, blonde and leggy.
I’d been gawking at her for the past three weeks before I gathered up enough courage to ask her out; to my surprise she accepted. The evening was going well until Tina bumped into us.
Tina was there with a couple of friends having a few drinks. She spotted me, dining with Claudia and decided to come over and say hello, she was a little drunk. She took me completely by surprise.
“Hey Tim!” she busted out.
I sorta lost my cool once I saw her. “Oh, hi Tina.”
“What’s goin on here?” she said in a nosey tone.
“I’m on a date, this is Claudia.” I told her
Claudia said hi and Tina went in to shake her hand, “This is a great guy! A nice, sensitive guy. Very sensitive. You’re a lucky woman!” she said.
“Oh really?” Claudia responded.
“Is this a first date?” Tina asked.
“Yep, yes this is. Claudia and I are on our first date.” I said, in an attempt of get rid of her.
“Well, I’d better go then. I’m cramping your style…. It was good seeing you again Tim” She said.
Tina turned to walk away. Unfortunately, she was behind me, so I couldn’t see her. “It was nice meeting you Claudia” As she said ‘Claudia’ she did the small dick sign with her thumb and index finger.
In astonishment, Claudia’s jaw dropped. She immediately burst out into laughter. I looked behind me, only to see that Tina was gone. “What’s so funny? I asked. “Oh nothing, I just thought of something small that happened the other day…… listen, can you excuse me for a moment? I need to go and powder my nose, I’ll be right back.”
Of course, she never came back. The rest of the night I could hear Tina and her friends taunting me from their table. After a half hour of embarrassment and humiliation, I decided to leave.
Thereafter, Claudia spread the rumor that I was the man in the ‘frightened little turtle painting’. The rumor quickly spread like wildfire, I soon earned the nickname ‘Tiny Tim’.
Everywhere I went I heard giggles and whispers, mostly from women.
That’s why I moved.