The Stripper

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This story contains adult sexual content and should not be read by those under 18, or considered minors in their country or locale. If you are under 18: CLICK HERE

This fictional story is the artistic expression of the author who wrote it. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this story, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
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by mrtinymeat

I was nervous, as you would imagine, on my first night as a male stripper. Most men would have a knot in their stomach before taking their clothes off in front of a baying crowd of middle aged, cock starved chav women. I, however, had another worry.

As it happened, I didn’t want to be a stripper, far from it, but my rent was due and I had spent all of my money on a new inflatable sex doll. This might sound a little frivolous, but her pussy was supposedly modelled on Spring Thomas. Unfortunately that meant my penis didn’t touch the sides of Spring’s plastic cunt, and I had to jerk off as usual while my collection of inflatable girlfriends (4 and counting) watched from the corner.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Another worry for me was the knowledge that most strippers had long, thick meaty cocks. Mine does resemble a kind of meat, but unfortunately it’s a cocktail sausage. Yep, my dick is a grand total of 3 inches long by 3 and a half around. Hard. I now realise I hadn’t made it any easier by naming myself ‘Mr Massive’. In fact, I had hoped to get away with keeping my underpants on and keep the football socks I had stashed in my thong hidden. Unfortunately for me, the ladies of Scummingham WMC weren’t going to let me get away with my deception.

Scummingham Estate is rough. When I say rough I don’t mean ‘a few problems with anti-social behaviour’ rough, I mean ‘Police won’t go in without riot gear’ rough. The unemployment was almost 100%, and the only people working were cash in hand, so the idea that a Working Mens Club was necessary was something of an ironic joke.

I sat on the bus clutching my carrier bag full of stripping gear (A red thong, black Speedo’s, baby oil and a bow tie) as the bus pulled into the estate. Almost immediately a rock smashed into the bus window, and I saw a gang of youths run away laughing. I got off the bus outside the WMC and knocked on the steel shuttered door. All the glass in the building was security glass, but most of it was still covered in spider webs of cracks from attempted break ins.

After a few seconds a panel opened in the door, and a grim looking elderly lady peered out. Her thick rimmed glasses sat on a thin, angular nose and her white hair was stained yellow with nicotine: “What?” She asked me.

“S-S-Stripper… I’m the stripper, for tonight.” I stammered.

“Fuckin’ hell love. I thought you were called Mr Massive? You’re scrawny as fuck, there’s nowt on yer.” She replied.

Charming, I thought. You’re only paying me £20, what did you expect? I’ll never know why I said my next line, but it certainly came back to haunt me: “I might not be Mr fucking Muscles, but I’m massive where it counts!” I said, cupping my thankfully already padded crotch.

Her eyebrows raised, and I heard the door bolt draw back.

The door clanked open and I stepped into the dark corridor. She gestured down the corridor: “You’ll get ready in the gents. Its ladies night tonight so you’ll be the only bloke in here, except for Danny. I’m Maureen, by the way.”

I smiled, and Maureen winked back so slowly I thoughtshe was having a stroke.

The toilets were exactly as I expected. Freezing cold, dirty and stinking of piss. I went into a cubicle and started to prepare my act. Through the door I could hear the hideous cackling of chav women as the audience started to arrive, and I velcro’d on my bow tie with shaking fingers. The roll of football socks (my substitute dick) were secured over my penis and balls with elastic bands, so even if one of these hags managed to tear down my Speedo’s I would still not be exposed.

There was a knock on the door an Maureen poked her head around the door. “We’re ready for you, love.” She told me her eyes straying down to my padded package.

I nodded understanding and took a deep breath, pulling on my tracksuit and following her out into the lounge bar.

The room was packed with about 40 women, and the smoking ban was evidently yet to catch on in Scummingham as the whole room was filled with a blue nicotine fug. I stumbled my way across the room, feeling every eye in the room on me as I made for the stage. Whispers went through the crowd as the women realised I was tonight’s entertainment, and I heard gasps, laughter and at least one exclamation of “What the fuck is that?”.

I tried to focus on the crisp twenty pound note I was going to receive, half of which would go on rent, the other half on my monthly subscriptions to all the websites I liked. If I had any left over, Keith at the SexToys R Us had a new extra small fleshlight in stock I was saving up for.

I reached the stage and stepped up onto the boards as a chant of ‘OFF OFF OFF!’ began in the crowd. Loud gangster rap blared out from the speakers as I reached down to untie my shoelaces, then kicked off my trainers. I unzipped my tracksuit top, and a fresh peal of laughter erupted as the women caught sight of my less than impressive upper body. My man boobs wobbled slightly as I tugged off the top, and one of the women in the audience shouted “He’s got bigger tits than me!” to a huge eruption of cackling.

I knew my next move would shut them up, as I turned away from the crowd and ripped down my tracksuit bottoms, leaving me standing in front of the women in just my Speedo’s and bow tie. The women couldn’t see my concealed thong and padding, so there was quite a gasp as I turned around. Most of these dumb chav cunts weren’t expecting to see such an impressive bundle, and one actually said “Fucking hell!”.

I had hoped to get away with keeping my trunks on, but it was clear that they weren’t going to let me.

I decided to take down the trunks, and make a sprint for it if they wanted more. With a flourish, I wrenched down my Speedo’s and the women cheered as my enhanced package bobbed away. I pulled some muscle man poses while the women again chanted ‘OFF OFF OFF!’.

I started to panic, and the door looked a long way off.

I decided to make a break for it and jumped of the stage, darting between the tables laden with drinks. I had made it half way cross the room when someone stuck out a foot and tripped me, sending me careering across the cheap filthy carpet. Rough hands with painted nails grabbed me and hauled me to my feet, marching me back to the stage as the cheers turned to jeers.

Boo’s rang in my ears as I tried in vain to escape, but I was gripped too tightly. Back up on to the stage I was pushed, and a huge fat woman followed me. The boo’s subsided as she raised her hands, and she spoke to the crowd: “Alreet ladies, we paid too fuckin’ fifteh to see this show, and I fer won arnt going withoot seein this blokes cock!”

The ladies all cheered again, and the fat Geordie bint wrenched down my thong.

Luckily, the bands holding the socks on to my cock held on. Unluckily, the Geordie was the persevering type. Off came the sock as well, and the room lapsed into a stunned silence as my tiny willy was revealed. The silence lasted only a few seconds, but I could feel my heart pounding and almost hear the blood thudding through my veins. Jaws dropped across the room, and then it began like a wave from the front of the room to the back.

Laughter erupted like an explosion as the pathetic size of my dick registered in their brains.

The women started to yell insults like “TINY!” and “PATHETIC!” at me (I didn’t say they were original, did I?) and most bent double with laughter.

Through all this I had forgotten the fat Geordie bitch standing beside me, my prosthetic dick still in her hand. “Hold ‘im Brenda!” One of the audience shouted, and she gripped my struggling hands even tighter, slipping her huge bingo winged arm around my neck.

The audience started to make their way to the front of the stage to get a better look at my little willy, which to my shame was now rock hard and throbbing.

The catcalls continued as Brenda marched me closer to the edge of the stage, and pushed me off into the crowd. The crowd parted and I sprawled onto the floor, landing completely surrounded by the baying mob. I was dragged to my feet and thrust onto a chair, my wrists and ankles were tied to the legs and I found myself spread-eagled and helpless: “What’re we gonna do wiv ‘im first?” asked a fat woman with bleached blonde hair and a Tweety Pie tattoo on her huge left boob.

“Let’s give ‘im a make over!” Said a teenage girl, who if I saw her on the street I would definitely have had a sneaky wank over her.

She had blonde hair, a Madonna piercing and pink lipstick on, but she was wearing a tight pink PVC dress from Primark which showed off her tits nicely. Lets call her Maddy. As I looked at her, my willy twitched involuntarily, and the women took this as a sign that I definitely should get a ‘make over’.

Handbags were retrieved from shoulders and the zips opened, all manner of chav make up emerging from the fake leather, market trader knock offs emblazoned with ‘Guci’ and ‘Louise Vitton’. First came the hot pink lipstick, Brenda holding my jaw tightly while Maddy applied it, followed by eyeshadow and foundation.

Maddy then reached into her bag again, and retrieved a permanent marker. “What you got one of them for? Asked one of her friends.

An obese teenager with greasy bleached blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail, black leggings that were stretched so tight they were almost transparent. She had a neon yellow boob tube that was at least 2 sizes too small, sending her tits spilling over the top as if it had been poured too quickly. We’ll call this specimen of femininity Kelly.

“Cos David Beckham were on the advert, and ‘e’s fuckin’ lush” explained Maddy as she pulled the top off.

She leant forward and started to write on my stomach ‘D…I…C…K…L…E…S…S’ with an arrow pointing down at my groin.

The women cheered and mobile phone camera flashes went off like a strobe light. The pictures would have been uploaded to facebook before the laughter had even died down. Maddy passed the pen to Kelly who was next to her and I could smell her BO as she leaned in to write ‘WANKER’ across my chest. Brenda snatched the pen next, and I got ‘FAGGOT’ across my forehead.

Another chav harridan wrote LOL on my boobs, with the O a ring around my nipple, and yet another drew ‘SLUT’ on my chest between the previous insults. Maddy snatched the pen again, writing MANBOOBS across my flabby chest. This got an even bigger reaction, prompting Brenda to write PERVERT on my inner thigh.

I honestly thought they might just kick me out onto the street as I was. Unfortunately for me, they had quite a lot more in store.The situation did not improve when Maureen got involved. She had been cackling away with the best of them when all of a sudden she piped up “Hold on girls! I’ve got something in the lost property box that this guy might like! Untie him for us!” and she scuttled off as fast as her elderly legs would carry her.

I felt the ties around my ankles and wrists loosen, but I was still held down onto the chair by Brenda and another woman, who was built like a brick shithouse. I hadn’t noticed her until now, but I turned to look around and saw her towering over me, her arms about the same thickness as Brenda’s bingo wings but taut and muscular, her thighs were huge and solid and her neck was about the same thickness as her head. She had no tits whatsoever, just rock hard pectorals under her tight white top. She looked like Autumn from, one of my favourite fitness babe wank sites, and she was glowering down at me with absolute disgust.

My dick twitched as it started to get hard again just from looking at her incredible body. This did not go unnoticed, and one of the other women said “Here, Andrea, I think he likes you!”

Andrea’s face changed from disgust to fury, and she leant over me reaching down between my legs and crushing my cock and balls in her fist. I squealed in pain, which made her squeeze even harder and I thought I might pass out.

Fortunately, she released her grip as Maureen came hurrying back with something in her hand. It was an enormous dildo, item no. 00167979733 on page 12 of the spring/summer 2007 Blissbox catalogue (not that I had been looking at enormous dildo’s of course), a similar item to one I had seen being inserted into Jayna James’ sloppy loose cunt on the web. The thought of Jayna’s cavernous whore-pussy made my dick twitch again, and the women of course thought I was getting excited about the dildo.

I was hauled up from the chair and pushed down onto a table with my face mashed into the Formica top. Andrea and someone else forced my legs apart and I saw Maureen spit on the dildo in the reflection from a pint glass. I braced myself, and winced in pain as the huge plastic cockhead was slowly pushed into my tight arsehole. The ladies squealed with glee as Maureen forced it further and further up my back passage until it was held horizontally by my sphincter.

I was then made to stand straight while Maureen pulled something else from her bag. It was a long plastic cocktail stirrer, with a Malibu logo at the top. I guessed where this was going, and I was right as Maureen held my tiny willy in her thumb and forefinger and inserted it into my pee-hole. Now, I’m no stranger to urethral insertions, but it’s a whole different game when you’re not inserting it yourself.

The pain was excruciating, and everyone laughed at my grimaces. When the cocktail stirrer was in as far as possible (which given my penis wasn’t very far), I was made to run an assault course around the room, climbing over chairs and under tables, all the while keeping the dildo and cocktail stick inserted. If one dropped out, or a circuit took less than a minute, Andrea said she would knee me in the balls.

It took only 3 circuits for the dildo to fall to the floor, and Andrea was good to her word. I stood with my legs apart as she gripped the back of my neck and brought her knee up into my tiny testicles so hard I nearly puked. I also had to complete the rest of the circuit with the stinky dildo in my mouth.

After the circuit, Maddy told everyone of a ritual she had heard of from her boyfriend who was in the army (that figures). It was called running the gauntlet, and involved having to stand still while every member of the platoon slapped you across the face, then you had to thank them.

“What I reckon we should do though” said Maddy “is slap his cock and write yer name on ‘im. So he knows who did it”

Thanks Maddy, you little chav cunt. All the ladies agreed this was a sterling plan, and Andrea tied me to a pillar.

First up came Maddy, because it was her idea. She slapped me right across the cockhead and wrote ‘MADDY OV SCUMMINGHAM 2K11’ on my left thigh. Next Maureen properly twatted my cockshaft and wrote her name on the other thigh. Andrea, predictably, didn’t hold back and gave me a full blooded whack, followed by Kelly, who fortunately didn’t have much of a slap on her.

Unfortunately she decided to write her name on my bell end, and while she was holding it still a little bit of precum dribbled out onto her fingers. This infuriated her, and she took a step back and hoofed my cock, sending it slapping up against my stomach. Everyone cheered as I yelled out.

The pain caused my dick to shrivel back down to its soft size and as each woman passed they wrote their name and a comment on me. Most contented themselves with a light slap, but some really went for it and slapped me as hard as they could. After about 20 women, a girl I recognised appeared. She was called Jane and was a cleaner at the office where I worked. She was about 21 and possibly the ugliest girl I had ever seen with pale spotty skin, greasy ginger hair and absolutely no tits whatsoever.

I often took the piss out of her at work and had once helped distribute some nude pictures of her amongst my workmates, so needless to say she really hated me. Not only did Jane absolutely smack my cock with all her fury, she also spat right in my face and kneed me in the balls. The women cheered, and that was the cue for each one of the women to spit at me.

I saw Jane talking with Andrea at the bar, ocassionally looking over at me and shaking her head. Jane must’ve told her what I had done, and she wasn’t happy. Andrea leant over and gestured to Danny the barman, an exceptionally camp black guy. He came over and they chatted, then Danny burst out laughing and nodded.

Andrea untied me from the pillar and dropped me to my knees. Danny was crossing the floor, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, releasing an enormous erect cock about 5 times the size of mine. The women gasped and Maddy said: “It’s such a waste you’re gay Danny!”. He stopped in front of me and his dick bobbed in the air in front of me.

Jane went behind me and I could feel her taloned fingers against the back of my head as she forced me closer to Danny’s engorged cock. Veins stuck out on the sides like electrical cables, and his foreskin was pulled back over his glistening cockhead. My ears rang with the shouts of the assembled women as Jane tightened her grip on my balls and leant in to whisper in my ear: “Open your mouth, or I’ll rip your fucking cock off.”

Reluctantly, I did as I was told and opened up, and Danny slid his meaty dick into my mouth.

He thrust three or four times before groaning and taking his dick from my mouth. I felt his hot spunk showering over my face, cooling almost instantly. The women laughed uproariously as Danny wiped more cum into my hair. I started to cry, which made the women laugh even more.

Truly, I hadn’t experienced humiliation until I had been forced to kneel in front of almost 40 laughing, mocking women and suck a man’s dick, all while covered in spit, cum and obscene graffiti.

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