The Package
A Fictional SPH Story by FedExPP99.
It started small—little comments. The first time, she’d opened the door in a silk robe, damp from the shower, and caught him staring at the swell of her breasts. She’d smirked, taken the box, and said, “Enjoying the view? Too bad you don’t have the equipment to do anything about it.”
He’d laughed it off. But his face burned the whole route.
The second time, she’d been sunbathing in her backyard when he came up the walkway. She didn’t cover up—just watched him approach with those half-lidded eyes and that cruel smile.
“Another package for me?” She’d drawled. “You sure do like bringing me things. Compensating for something?”
By the fifth delivery, Travis was hard before he even rang the doorbell. He knew she’d say something. He needed her to say something.
—
Vanessa was twenty-eight, leggy, with dark hair that fell in loose waves past her shoulders. She worked from home—something in marketing—and she was always there when he came by—always dressed to kill or barely dressed at all.
Today she answered in yoga shorts and a sports bra, glistening with sweat after just finishing a workout.
“Hey, tiny.” That was her nickname for him now. “Got something for me?”
He held out the box. His hand trembled slightly.
Vanessa took it, but she didn’t step back. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up. Her eyes dropped to his crotch.
“You know, I’ve been thinking.” Her voice was thoughtful. Mocking. “You’ve been bringing me packages for months now. But I’m starting to wonder about your package.”
Travis swallowed. His dick was already straining against his briefs—all three inches of it, hard and desperate.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on.” She laughed softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you blush when I tease you. You’re packing something down there, aren’t you? Or maybe… you’re not packing much at all.”
His face went hot. “I don’t—”
“Shh.” She held up a hand. “I’m betting it’s cute. Pathetic, but cute. Am I right?”
Travis couldn’t answer. His throat was too tight.
Vanessa’s smile widened. “That’s what I thought. You’ve got a little baby dick, don’t you? A tiny little nub that could never satisfy a woman.”
She was right. God, she was right. He’d known since high school, since the locker room laughs and the whispers. Three inches hard. Barely a mouthful. The kind of cock that got pitying looks instead of moans.
“I—” His voice cracked. “I’m not that small.”
“Liar.” She stepped closer, and he caught the scent of her—sweat and vanilla and something muskier beneath. “Prove it.”
“What?”
“Show me.” Her eyes glittered. “Come back tonight. After your shift. Show me what you’re working with, and I’ll tell you exactly what I think of it.”
She took her package and closed the door in his face.
—
Travis couldn’t focus for the rest of his route. Every delivery, every signature, every “have a nice day”—it all blurred together. His mind kept circling back to Vanessa. To her smirk. To her challenge.
Show me.
He should say no. He should be humiliated. He was humiliated.
But his tiny cock was hard in his pants the entire afternoon.
—
He knocked on her door at 8 PM. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across her porch.
Vanessa answered in a sheer negligee. Nothing underneath. He could see the dark circles of her nipples, the smooth slope of her stomach, the shadow between her thighs.
“Right on time.” She stepped back. “Come in, tiny.”
Her living room was tasteful—modern furniture, soft lighting, the faint smell of her perfume hanging in the air. She led him to the couch and sat down, crossing her legs. He stood in front of her, hands clammy.
“So.” She tilted her head. “Let’s see it.”
Travis’s fingers went to his belt. They fumbled with the buckle. He was shaking—he couldn’t help it. This was really happening.
“Aw, you’re nervous.” Vanessa’s voice was sweet. Poisonous. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
He unzipped his pants and pushed them down, then his briefs. His cock sprang free—hard, red, and pathetically small. It jutted out from his body, all three inches of it, the head already leaking precum.
Vanessa stared.
Then she started laughing.
“Oh, my god.” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, it’s so small. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”
Travis’s face burned. His cock twitched.
“Look at that little thing.” She leaned forward, examining it like a science experiment. “It’s like a clit. A sad little boy clit. Is that even functional? Can you even fuck with that?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I doubt it.” She sat back, still laughing. “You couldn’t even hit a woman’s G-spot with that. You’d just wiggle around uselessly while she wondered if you’d actually put it in yet.”
His hand moved to his cock without thinking. He wrapped his fingers around it—his whole hand covered it completely—and started stroking.
Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously jerking off right now? To me making fun of your tiny dick?”
“Yes.”
“God, you’re pathetic.” But she didn’t look away. “You like this, don’t you? You like being humiliated. You like hearing the truth about that useless little nub.”
He stroked faster. His breath came in short gasps.
“Tell me more,” he begged.
Vanessa’s smile turned sharp. “You want more? Fine. That thing between your legs isn’t a cock. It’s a joke—a punchline. No woman will ever look at that and feel anything but disappointment. You were born to be mocked. Born to be a little dick loser who gets off on being told the truth.”
Precum dripped down his shaft. He smeared it over the head, gasping.
“You know what I need?” Vanessa stood up, her negligee sliding over her thighs. “I need a real cock. Something thick and long that can actually make me cum. Not this—” She gestured at his crotch. “This sad little worm.”
She turned and walked down the hallway. Travis started to panic—was she leaving? Was this over?
But she came back with something in her hand.
A pair of panties. Black lace, visibly worn, with a white stain in the crotch.
“These are from yesterday,” she said, holding them up. “I wore them to the gym. Then I wore them to bed. They’re absolutely filthy.”
She tossed them at him. They landed in his lap, right against his twitching cock.
“Smell them.” Her voice dropped. “Smell my dirty panties while you jerk that tiny thing. That’s the closest you’ll ever get to my pussy.”
Travis grabbed the panties and pressed them to his face. The scent hit him immediately—sweat, musk, the tangy smell of her arousal, all concentrated in the fabric. He inhaled deeply, his cock jerking in his hand.
“God, you’re disgusting.” Vanessa watched him with hooded eyes. “Sniffing my dirty underwear like a fucking pervert. Jerking your little baby dick while I tell you how worthless you are.”
He moaned into the fabric. His hips bucked forward, fucking his fist.
“You’re never going to feel this pussy.” She slipped a hand between her thighs, touching herself through the negligee. “You’re never going to know what it’s like to be inside a woman. All you get is my dirty panties and my mockery. That’s all a little dick loser like you deserves.”
“Please—” He was close. So close.
“Please what? Please let you cum?” She laughed. “Fine. Cum for me, tiny. Cum while you smell my sweaty pussy and jerk that pathetic excuse for a cock.”
Travis’s orgasm hit him like a truck. He buried his face in her panties, inhaling her scent, and came all over his hand. Spurt after spurt of thick cum coated his fingers, dripped down his shaft, and pooled at the base of his cock.
Vanessa watched the whole thing with a satisfied smile.
When he finally caught his breath, she held out her hand.
“Give me back my panties.”
He handed them over, cum-covered and crumpled. She examined them, then tossed them in his face.
“Keep them. A souvenir for the little dick loser.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Same time next week, tiny?”
Travis pulled up his pants, his softening cock barely visible beneath the fabric.
“Yes,” he said.
“Good boy.”
He walked out into the night, her dirty panties still clutched in his hand, already counting the days until his next delivery.
—
Travis jerked off with Vanessa’s panties every night that week.
He’d get home from his route, strip down, and press the black lace to his face while he stroked his tiny cock. The scent faded by day three, but the memory didn’t. Neither did the shame. Every orgasm left him flushed and hollow, desperate for the real thing.
By Friday, he was a wreck.
—
Vanessa answered the door in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. He could tell by the way the fabric draped over her hips—no panty line, no bra. Her nipples pressed against the thin cotton, two dark points that made his mouth go dry.
“Hey, tiny.” She leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been thinking about me.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“Did you use my gift?” Her eyes dropped to his crotch. “Did you cum with your nose buried in my dirty panties like a little pervert?”
Travis’s face burned. “Every night.”
“God.” She laughed, soft and cruel. “You’re so fucking pathetic. Most men would be embarrassed. But you? You crave it, don’t you? You need me to tell you exactly what you are.”
He nodded. His throat was too tight for words.
Vanessa smiled. “I have another delivery for you today. But this one’s special.”
She disappeared into the house and came back with a small box—gift-wrapped, with a pink ribbon.
“Open it when you get home,” she said, pressing it into his hands. “And follow the instructions exactly. If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll let you come back inside next week.”
—
Travis waited until he was in his bedroom to open the box.
Inside was a pair of bright pink cotton panties with little white hearts. And a note in Vanessa’s elegant handwriting:
“Put these on. Take a photo. Send it to me. Then wear them for the rest of the night. If you cum, you have to do it in these panties and send me proof.”
His cock twitched.
He stripped down and pulled the panties on. They were tight—clearly meant for a woman—but they fit. The soft cotton pressed against his tiny cock, barely bulging at all. He looked in the mirror and saw exactly what Vanessa wanted him to see: a man in women’s underwear, his crotch flat and pathetic, his face red with shame.
He took the photo.
His hands shook as he typed her number and hit send.
Her response came thirty seconds later.
“Oh, my god. You actually did it. You look like a little sissy. That tiny bump is barely even there. I can’t stop laughing.”
Then: “Send me a video. Touch yourself through the panties. Let me hear you moan.”
Travis obeyed. He propped up his phone, lay back on his bed, and started rubbing his cock through the soft cotton. The friction was different—softer, more maddening. He could feel every movement of the fabric against his sensitive skin.
“Vanessa,” he moaned, her name slipping out unbidden.
He sent the video.
Her response: “You moaned my name. That’s so cute. You really are obsessed with me, aren’t you? Too bad you’ll never have me. All you get is panties and humiliation.”
Then: “Now cum. Right now. Soak those little panties for me.”
Travis didn’t need to be told twice. He rubbed faster, the fabric dragging against his cock head, and came in thick spurts. The cotton darkened with wetness, warm and sticky against his skin.
He took the photo and sent it.
“Good boy,” she wrote. “Now sleep in them.”
He wore the cum-soaked panties to bed.
By morning, they were stiff and uncomfortable, the dried cum pulling at his skin. But he didn’t take them off until his alarm went off at six.
His first delivery of the day was to Vanessa’s house.
She answered the door in a silk robe, sipping coffee, looking like she’d just rolled out of bed.
“Morning, tiny.” Her eyes swept over him. “Did you sleep well?”
“No.”
“Aw.” She smirked. “Were your sticky little panties uncomfortable? Did they remind you of what a pathetic cum-slut you are?”
Travis’s cock stirred. He couldn’t help it.
Vanessa noticed. Her gaze dropped to his crotch, where a small tent was forming.
“Already hard? God, you really can’t help yourself.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I have a friend coming over tonight. A male friend. Someone with a real cock. Someone who can actually fuck me the way I deserve.”
Travis’s stomach twisted.
“If you’re good,” she continued, “maybe I’ll let you watch. From the closet. While you wear your pretty pink panties.”
His breath caught. “Yes. Please.”
“Pathetic.” But her smile was pleased. “Be here at seven. And bring those panties you’re wearing now. I want to see proof you kept them on all night.”
—
Travis arrived at seven, the crusty pink panties in his pocket.
Vanessa led him to her bedroom—a king-sized bed with white sheets, a walk-in closet with louvered doors.
“Inside,” she said, pointing. “Leave the door cracked. And don’t you dare touch yourself until I say so.”
He squeezed into the closet, surrounded by her clothes—the scent of her perfume clinging to every garment. A pair of jeans brushed against his thigh. A silk blouse touched his shoulder. He was enveloped in her.
Through the crack in the door, he had a perfect view of the bed.
At seven-thirty, the doorbell rang.
Vanessa answered it in her silk robe, and Travis heard a deep male voice.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey yourself.” Her voice was different now—softer, sexier. “Ready for me?”
“Always.”
Footsteps down the hall. Then a man appeared in the doorway—tall, muscular, dark-skinned, with a jawline that could cut glass. He pulled Vanessa against him and kissed her hard.
Travis watched from the closet, his tiny cock straining in his pants.
The man—she called him Brandon—undressed her slowly, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. Her breasts. Her stomach. The curve of her hips. Then he laid her on the bed and went down on her, his tongue working her pussy while she moaned and grabbed his head.
“God, yes,” she gasped. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
Travis had never made a woman sound like that. He’d never even come close.
Brandon lifted his head, his chin glistening. “You taste so good.”
“Fuck me.” Vanessa pulled at his belt. “I need that big cock inside me.”
Brandon stood and dropped his pants.
Travis’s eyes went wide.
Brandon’s cock was massive—at least eight inches, thick and veined, with a heavy head that glistened with precum. It made Travis’s three inches look like a joke.
Vanessa wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly. “This is what a real cock looks like,” she said, loud enough for Travis to hear. “This is what a woman needs.”
She guided Brandon onto the bed and straddled him, sinking onto his cock with a long, satisfied moan.
“Oh fuck yes. That’s it. Fill me up.”
Travis watched her ride him, her breasts bouncing, her head thrown back. He could see everything—Brandon’s thick cock sliding in and out of her wet pussy, stretching her open, hitting spots Travis would never reach.
“Tell me,” Vanessa gasped, still riding. “Tell me how tight I am.”
“So fucking tight.” Brandon grabbed her hips, thrusting up into her. “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”
“And that little delivery boy?” She laughed, breathless. “He’s in my closet right now, watching. Jerking his tiny little dick while you fuck me.”
Brandon’s rhythm didn’t falter. “Seriously?”
“Pathetic, right? He’s got like three inches. Can’t do anything with it. Just a little baby dick loser who gets off on being humiliated.”
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Brandon flipped her onto her back, pounding into her harder. “Let him watch. Let him see what he’ll never have.”
Travis couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled out his cock and started stroking, his hand moving fast and desperate.
Vanessa’s eyes flicked to the closet. She smiled.
“He’s doing it right now. Jerking that tiny thing while you make me cum.”
“Where do you want it?” Brandon grunted.
“Inside me. Fill me up.”
Brandon thrust deep and groaned, his cock pulsing as he came. Vanessa cried out, her back arching, her pussy clenching around him.
Travis came too—quietly, pathetically, his cum spurting into his hand while the woman he worshipped came on another man’s cock.
—
After Brandon left, Vanessa opened the closet door.
Travis sat on the floor, cum-covered and ashamed, his tiny cock soft against his thigh.
“Did you enjoy the show?” She was still naked, her pussy red and swollen, Brandon’s cum leaking down her thigh.
“Yes.”
“Good boy.” She reached for something on a shelf—a pair of panties, worn and gray. “These are from three days ago. I’ve been saving them for you.”
She tossed them at him.
“Clean yourself up and get out. Same time next week?”
Travis nodded, clutching the dirty panties.
“Good.” She smiled. “Maybe next time I’ll let you lick his cum out of me. Would you like that, tiny?”
His cock twitched.
“Yes.”
“God, you’re hopeless.” She closed the door in his face.
Travis walked home in the dark, her panties pressed to his nose, already hard again.
—
The following week stretched like taffy.
Travis delivered packages on autopilot, his mind constantly drifting back to the closet—Vanessa’s moans, Brandon’s massive cock, the way she’d looked straight at him while another man filled her up. He’d jerked off with her gray panties every night, but the scent was almost gone now, and no matter how many times he came, he still felt empty.
He wanted more. He wanted to be used.
—
Thursday evening, his phone buzzed.
Vanessa: “Coming tomorrow?”
Travis: “Yes.”
Vanessa: “Good. Brandon will be here. This time you won’t be hiding in the closet.”
His heart slammed against his ribs.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see. Wear your pink panties.”
—
He arrived at seven, the pink cotton pressing against his tiny cock, his palms sweating.
Vanessa answered the door in a black slip dress, thin enough that he could see the outline of her nipples. She looked like a goddess—imperious, untouchable.
“Right on time, tiny.” She stepped aside to let him in. “Brandon’s in the living room. Go say hello.”
Travis walked into the living room on shaky legs.
Brandon sat on the couch, one arm draped across the back, a beer in his other hand. He was even bigger than Travis remembered—broad shoulders, thick arms, a confident sprawl that took up space. He looked Travis up and down and smirked.
“So this is the little dick loser.”
“Travis, meet Brandon. Brandon, this is my tiny little delivery boy.” Vanessa sat next to Brandon, crossing her legs. “Show him your panties, Travis.”
Travis’s face burned. His hands trembled as he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down, revealing the pink cotton underneath.
Brandon laughed—a deep, genuine sound that made Travis want to disappear. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding. That’s the smallest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Three inches,” Vanessa said proudly. “Barely. And he gets hard from being mocked. Don’t you, tiny?”
Travis nodded. His cock was already straining against the fabric, a pathetic little bump that barely showed.
“Take it out,” Brandon said. “Let me see this joke of a dick.”
Travis pulled down the panties. His tiny cock sprang free—thin, short, leaking at the tip. He stood there, exposed, while a real man watched and judged.
“Jesus.” Brandon shook his head. “I’ve seen clits bigger than that. What do you even do with something that small?”
“Nothing,” Vanessa answered for him. “He can’t fuck. Can’t satisfy anyone. All he’s good for is being humiliated and cleaning up messes.”
Brandon’s eyes gleamed. “Is that right? You like cleaning up messes, little man?”
“Yes,” Travis whispered.
“Show him,” Vanessa said. “Get on your knees.”
Travis dropped to his knees in front of them.
Vanessa stood and pulled her dress over her head. Underneath, she wore nothing—her body smooth and golden, her pussy already glistening. She straddled Brandon’s lap, and he pulled out his cock, hard and thick.
“Watch closely, tiny.” She lowered herself onto Brandon’s cock, inch by inch, her pussy stretching around his girth. “This is what a real cock looks like inside me. This is what you’ll never have.”
Travis watched, his own tiny cock twitching uselessly between his legs.
Vanessa rode Brandon slowly at first, then faster, her moans filling the room. Brandon grabbed her ass, spreading her cheeks, thrusting up into her.
“Tell him,” Brandon grunted. “Tell him how good this feels.”
“So fucking good.” Vanessa’s voice was breathless. “This cock fills me up. Hits spots you’ll never reach. You’re useless, Travis. A waste of a man. But you can be useful in other ways.”
She climbed off Brandon and stood in front of Travis, her pussy red and open, Brandon’s precum mixing with her wetness.
“Lick,” she commanded.
Travis leaned forward and pressed his tongue to her pussy. The taste hit him immediately—salty, musky, undeniably male and female combined. He licked and sucked, cleaning her while she moaned.
“Good boy.” She grabbed his hair, grinding against his face. “Make me cum with that tongue since your tiny dick can’t do anything.”
He worked harder, tongue circling her clit, dipping inside her, tasting every inch. Brandon watched, stroking his cock.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Brandon said. “The little loser eating you out after I’ve been inside you.”
Vanessa came with a cry, her thighs clamping around Travis’s head. He kept licking through her orgasm, gentle now, until she pushed him away.
“My turn,” Brandon said.
He stood and pulled Vanessa onto the couch, bending her over the armrest. He entered her from behind, fucking her hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
“Get under us,” Vanessa gasped. “Watch where his cock goes.”
Travis lay on his back, sliding underneath them. From this angle, he could see everything—Brandon’s thick cock pistoning in and out of Vanessa’s pussy, her lips stretching around him, her juices dripping down his shaft.
“See that?” Brandon grunted. “That’s what a real man’s cock does. Fills her up. Makes her scream.”
Vanessa looked down at Travis, her face flushed. “This is what you’ll never give me, tiny. All you get is to watch. And clean.”
Brandon’s thrusts grew faster. “I’m gonna cum.”
“Inside me,” Vanessa moaned. “Fill me up.”
Brandon buried himself deep and groaned, his cock pulsing. Travis watched the base of his shaft twitch as he unloaded inside her.
When Brandon pulled out, cum immediately began dripping from Vanessa’s pussy.
“Open your mouth,” she said.
Travis opened.
She lowered herself onto his face, and Brandon’s cum flooded into his mouth—warm, thick, bitter. He swallowed, then licked her clean, tongue working deep inside her, getting every drop.
“Good boy.” Vanessa climbed off him. “Now cum for us. Show us what a little dick loser does when he’s allowed to finish.”
Travis grabbed his tiny cock and started stroking. It only took seconds—he was too turned on, too desperate. He came onto his stomach, a small pool of white on his skin.
Brandon laughed. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“Pathetic,” Vanessa agreed. “But useful. You’re a good little cleanup boy, Travis. I think we’ll keep you around.”
—
After Brandon left, Vanessa sat on the couch in her slip dress, sipping wine like nothing had happened.
Travis stood by the door, still wearing his pink panties, his stomach crusted with his own cum.
“Same time next week?” Vanessa asked.
“Yes.”
“Good boy.” She smiled, cruel and satisfied. “Bring more panties. I think we’ll make this a regular thing. You can be our little toy—something to laugh at while Brandon fucks me properly. And when he’s done, you can clean us both up. How does that sound?”
His tiny cock twitched. “Perfect.”
“God, you’re so predictable.” She waved dismissively. “Get out. I’m done with you.”
—
Travis walked home in the dark, the pink panties still clinging to his skin.
He felt hollow and full at the same time—ashamed, aroused, and completely owned. He knew he’d be back next week. And the week after that. For as long as Vanessa wanted him.
He was her toy. Her joke. Her tiny-dick loser.
And somehow, that was exactly what he needed to be.
The End.
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