The Tiny Truth Behind the Manly Man
This changed my future trajectory; since then, I have been building my art portfolio, hoping to attend a competitive art school one day. I dream of enrolling in “The Glasgow School of Art in Scotland.” But the main problem is that my portfolio needs the artistic nuance that this school seeks in painting and printmaking. I have examples of surrealism, cubism, and even landscape, but I need realistic samples. Because of this, I am taking my boldness to the next level.
I was involved in my local church in the small town of New Hope, Pennsylvania, and lived there my whole life. There was this older gentleman who was in his late forties. He was this attractive, tall, chubby, and mysterious man. I’ve known him my whole life, and his name was Timothy Winchester. He was always this big shot with plenty of stories about his wild lifestyle. We were having a holiday party, and he was busy talking to some ladies. He seemed like a fascinating person. Toward the end of the party, I asked him if he wanted to help me with my art school portfolio. I told him I would paint him. He was hesitant but quickly agreed after I offered him money.
Later that evening, we met at my parent’s house, where I had a big art studio. Timothy was amazed by the art studio and all the diverse drawings and paintings. He looked in amazement at some of my favorite works of lakes, waterfalls, abandoned buildings, portraits, and scenery hung up on the different walls.
“Wow, I have to hand it to you, Stevie.”
I blushed at him calling me that. That was the unfortunate nickname I had growing up.
“You are one hell of an artist. This is amazing. I’ve known you my whole life. Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?”
“It’s a modest talent of mine. I don’t like boasting about it.”
He complimented me by saying, “Well, when you are this stellar, you have the right to be proud of what you do. I can speak to the pastor about your work because the church wants to paint a new mural. We need someone who will spearhead the project. What do you think, son?”
I blushed at the opportunity, “I mean, I’ve thought about it but concluded I am too busy for that.”
“Aww, come on, you would be great. I can help you out.”
“That would be great. Thank you so much, Timothy.”
He looked at me and said, “I am excited to do this. I’ve never been a model before. Would you like to draw my face, like a portrait?
I gave a dorky smile, “I am so sorry, Timothy because I should have mentioned before that I need a figure study of you.”
He looked in amazement, “Oh, you mean like my whole body? I will still have my clothes on, right?”
“Not exactly, you see; I need a realistic art sample of the human body, preferably without clothes.”
He shook his head and growled, “As in naked? There is no way I am doing that. It would be best if you mentioned this before, boy. What a waste of my time.”
Timothy’s face puffed up to a bright red. It was strange for Timothy to lack confidence as he always had the best stories about his life. He was about to storm out until I pleaded with him.
“Please, sir, I need your help. You are the only one who has shown an interest in doing this. I was afraid you would run for the hills if I told you everything I needed. This will only be for my art portfolio, which means only art school administrators will see this when they evaluate my applications.”
He was about to leave until he stopped and thought about it.
He said, “So, let me get this straight. You want me to pose naked for you?”
I nodded and expected him to decline, “Okay, as long as no one else will see this. I have an image to conserve.”
“I completely understand what you mean,” I told him, but I didn’t comprehend what he was referring to.
I had my canvas out, ready to begin painting. We just stood facing each other awkwardly.
After about a minute later of this prolonged silence, I stammered, “Well, what are you waiting for?”
He looked down and stumbled on his words, “Oh, right. Sorry about that. I am nervous because I’ve never done this before.”
“If it makes it any easier, think of me as Suzie from church, I said. He looked at me inquisitively, to which I blurted out, “Trust me, I am an artist. I observe and know these things. I don’t blame you, though. I get it. She is a cute, friendly blonde girl.”
He giggled and was lost in thought, “Yeah.”
“Alright, enough of that. Please remove your clothes.”
Then Timothy nervously began taking his clothes off. Article by article came off his masculine body, and he was finally in his little tighty-whities underwear. He had an alluring physique; his chubby, round body gave him a sense of unspoken charisma.
He looked at me nervously, “Let’s just begin like this so I can get used to the idea.”
I bit back, “That isn’t how this works, Timothy. Get that pair of underwear off right now, or I will yank them off myself. Just get comfortbale. This is a safe space. It is just us guys. There is nothing to be embarrassed about, man.
“Okay fine, here goes nothing,” said Timothy, and with that, he pulled off the last piece of clothing he was wearing. He put his thumbs in the waistband and slowly took off his underwear down to his ankles. He stepped out of them completely, so he was fully naked. He covered up his crotch before I got a good look at what I was about to paint. I walked up to him and took his clothes. I locked them in the other room, so he would comply with everything I asked.
“Wait, but I need those clothes.”
I winked at him, “Don’t worry, you will get your precious clothes by the end of the evening.”
He stood there like a child cupping his private parts. I was intrigued by what he was trying to hide from me.
I gestured my hand, “Remove those hands, please.”
He looked nervous but finally conceded my request. He removed his beefy hands, and what stood before me was something you could never imagine in a million years. Timothy was utterly naked, and his penis—if you could even call it that, was incredibly tiny. If you think of a baby carrot or AAA battery, you need to think again. When I use the word little, I mean extra small, to the point where I could barely see anything attached to his big, hairy, beautiful legs. He was enchanted with such a stunning body but cursed with a half-inch dicklette that didn’t even protrude past his baby-sized balls. I didn’t even know how to react, so I did what anyone would naturally do: giggle.
I giggled loudly and innocently as I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. How could you not laugh at something so tiny, though?
I whispered to myself, “Wow, holy shit.”
Timothy shouted, “Hey! What are you laughing at? I am not laughing at your skinny body, am I?”
I continued painting and said, “No, sir.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off his little, shrunken half-inch berry. He just had a tiny little head glued to his prepubescent balls. It took everything in me not to laugh more in his face.
“Yeah, I mean, your body is lifeless and stick-like. You are so damn skinny, boy.”
He started acting like a jerk, so I made him aware of why he shouldn’t treat me that way.
“Timothy, who is in charge here? I have your clothes locked up. You can walk home naked if you continue acting like a bad boy.”
“Damn it. Fine, I won’t say anything anymore.”
I smirked and looked at his meatless manhood over there, looking like the tip of a thin lipstick. He knew to shut his mouth, knowing what I was witnessing. I saw his most embarrassing secret revealed to me, and I was about to take full advantage of little Timmy in his shriveled and decompressed state.
“I am trying to paint you, but to be honest, Timothy, that is one hell of a small pecker you’ve got down there, dude. I can barely see it from here.”
I started giggling uncontrollably with my eyes wide open, gawking at the teeny tiny hose between his thick legs. From this, he covered his little compact member with his hands.
“Haha, Timothy, my boy, if you are going to cover up your little baby penis, you just need your pinky to do the job.”
He was red-faced like a bright maraschino cherry (pun intended).
He yelled, “Quit your childish laughing, and don’t tell anyone about my penis, okay Stevie.”
“For one stumpy, it isn’t childish to laugh at your little cock because anyone would laugh at something so tiny, minuscule, and outlandish. You should be used to that. Second, you can’t call whatever that is a penis if we are being honest here. Call it something more appropriate, like a snack-sized ding-a-ling or an undersized tallywhacker.”
“No way, that makes me sound like a little boy, like you.”
“Haha, I’m not the little boy. You are down there, little man. Now, uncover that little thing of yours. Share how tiny you are with the world.”
He sighed and uncovered his small dagger dicklette, one which babies would be embarrassed to have.
I looked at his shaftless, limp crotch, giggled, and pointed, “Now, if you are going to refer to your little pee-pee, you need to use more truthful and creative words to describe that genetically diminished ding-dong. Go back to what you said before, pathetic inchworm.”
He looked utterly livid and horrified, “Fine. Don’t tell anyone about my wee-wee again.”
I shot him a look of disappointment, “No. Do it again.”
“Don’t tell anyone about my tiny wee-wee again.”
“I need more than that, you dickless fish.”
“God damn! Don’t tell anyone about my insanely tiny, undeveloped micro wee-wee again. It’s so damn tiny I wank with one finger.”
I winked and said, “That’s better, and we’ll see baby boy.”
“You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about my little one-inch wonder.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about that mini-disaster in your pants. It would ruin your life and convict you as a pathological liar. Of all those times you told us about the women you ‘dated.’ Now, strike a pose with your pre-school-looking cocklette.”
He looked pretty sad and defeated but continued to give such manly poses by flexing his alpha-looking muscles despite having nothing between his legs. There was just a thin, weak muscle acorn head with no shaft resting between his raisin-sized balls. What a little bump.
“Haha, there is no need to look manly when you’ve got nothing down there. How can you ever be a man with all that? I don’t even know how you make love with something so screwed up. Just be yourself, Tiny Tim. Look confident but graceful about having an itty bitty tiny cocklette.”
He looked beyond embarrassed, but I was just getting started. I was enjoying myself. I constantly stared at his little pee-wee dinky as it just meditated between his little toddler-like, undescended balls.
“I still can’t get over how tiny your penis is, Timothy. Tell me, I’ve heard all the stories about your adventures with different women. Were they true? Have you ever had a woman?”
He looked ashamed, “Of course.”
I snarkily looked through his lies, “Tell me the truth, little boy.”
“No, I’ve never had one.”
I looked directly at his microdong and said, “I can definitely see that.”
Timothy burned from embarrassment as I kept teasing him about his midsection misfortune.
I started drawing his lower body and asked, “Okay tiny junk baby, it’s one thing not to be in a relationship with someone, but please tell me, have you ever had sex with a woman?”
“The truth is, I haven’t.”
I stopped what I was doing and walked up to Timothy to take a closer gander at his underdeveloped pickle, “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
I was inches away from his little wiggling half-inch chode. I wanted to give it a little kiss, but I decided not.
I walked back, holding my mouth and giggling.
“Tell me what happened when you took different women to the bedroom?”
“They would be excited to have sex with me, but the moment they saw my shortcomings, they would laugh uncontrollably or make up some excuse.
“I can’t say I blame them. Are you embarrassed, Timothy?”
“Yes, I have never been more embarrassed in my whole life.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you keep teasing my little guy and me.”
“Aww. I am sorry you are embarrassed that you have a 0.5-inch wee-wee. I could stare at this little pee-pee all day. It is so cute and innocent. I mean, you are still a baby virgin. Have you been embarrassed at other times?”
“Yes, my immediate family knew about my little penis. My mom would constantly walk in on me showering to remind me to wash my little bottoms, and my dad would regularly check on my growth. He would be angry when I wasn’t where he wanted me to be. I remember he took me to a urologist to discuss my lack of development. He asked the doctor why my penis was so ‘damn tiny,’ and I was 19. The doctor giggled and told my dad that some boys or men are tiny. Once, my extended family was having a barbeque, and I tried out the new pool slide. There was a sharp edge at the bottom that I overlooked. It caught my trunks. I didn’t notice, and I ran up to try the slide again, and my whole family was pointing and laughing at my pinky-winky genitals. After that day, everyone knew I was packing a baby penis. They never let me live it down. Repeatedly, I was pansted and teased.”
“Haha, poor Timothy. It must have been horrifying that your family knew you would never satisfy a woman in bed. I can’t believe I am painting a naked toddler like you.”
“Dammit. Stevie, stop, fuck.”
I couldn’t resist, “Well, ‘fuck’ is what you can’t do with a little pee-pee like yours. Turn around so that I can get your back.”
He turned around, and I started painting his backside. He had a big meaty bubble ass.
I whistled, “Beautiful ass, Timothy, too bad about the stagnated front. You need a tan on your ass, though. Your bits are just little candy-sized gherkins. What a shame.”
“You talk a big game. Show me what you’ve got.”
I immediately yanked my shorts and underwear down with confidence. My long cock, around eight inches, sprang in his face.
“I have a reason to talk a big game. You do not.”
He looked away, knowing where we both stood as men. You just needed to look at what we were both packing to know. I pulled up my pants and told Timothy my sister, Kelly, was joining us.
“Wait, what,” Kelly immediately walked through the front door wearing a lovely leather dress and boots with a nice voluptuous figure.
Timothy immediately covered up his little button dick again, especially since he had a terrible problem in the junkular department.
Kelly announced herself, “How’s it going, Steve?”
“I am doing well. How are you doing?”
“I could be better. I just finished a date with this jerk.”
She was shocked to see Timothy in the nude, “Oh, I didn’t know you were painting this evening.”
There stood a naked Timothy covering his unimpressive shrimp dicky.
“C’mon Timothy, move those hands away and continue posing.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen before.”
He reluctantly removed his hands and exposed his little dynamite. I looked at my sister’s reaction.
Kelly’s eyes widened, “Wow. Haha, he’s got a little one. I would call this a little micropinky. It’s so cute.”
I looked at it again, “More like a frightened turtle, and wait, Timothy, are you hard right now?”
He was agitated at this point, “Yes.”
Kelly looked at me, and we started giggling.
“My sister is why your little guy got all boned up. I could barely tell your little member was all hard. Aww. It barely got any bigger. How big is it?”
“It is four inches.”
Kelly and I looked at him with suspicion.
“Okay, it is two inches.”
Again, we looked in disbelief.
“Fine! It is hard at one inch. Are you happy now?”
We looked at each other and burst into loud, hysterical laughter.
“I have no words, but okay, let’s continue.”
I walked up to Timothy to help him with a new position.
“I want you to be more relaxed and natural. You are so tense and rigid.”
My eyes darted to his unmanly teeny weeny, “And remember, Timothy, just a little reminder, emphasis on ‘little,’ you can’t get a woman with such a tiny, little boy pee-pee. You can forget all about Suzie at church.”
“Shut up already.”
“Don’t be mad you can’t get a woman with a little boy’s penis like that, haha.”
He snarled, “That is not true.”
I looked at him sternly, came close to his small penis, and grabbed it with two fingers, basically covering the entire thing.
“Women aren’t into little boys. Admit that you can’t get a woman with a penis so vile and puny.”
“Alright, it is true.”
“I can’t get a woman with a penis so freaking tiny.”
“Good boy. I am glad you are learning.”
I walked back and continued to draw a naked Timothy.
Kelly added, “Don’t forget to draw Timothy’s baby penis. Since it is so tiny, like a coach’s whistle, you may forget to add it.”
Timothy said, “Kelly, you need to shut it. No one asked for your opinion.”
“Acting like a dick won’t make yours any bigger.”
“Haha, Nice one, sis.”
“How about you come over here and suck my cock, Kelly?”
“How can I? There isn’t anything to suck on.”
Haha, that is so true, Kelly. There isn’t anything down there that can classify him as a man. I mean, even little two-year-olds have bigger goobers.”
“You’ve got to stop painting newborn babies like Timothy here. He is so tiny and would make a great monk. He should be celibate because no woman will enjoy that ingrown stubby. What a microdick stud.”
After about an hour of constant insults and merciless ridicule, I finished the painting.
“Finally, can I have my clothes back?”
“That won’t be necessary little fella. Just look at the painting. Bring your incredibly small dicklette over here for our enjoyment.”
Timothy walked toward us, and we watched in awe as his little thing bounced left to right in such a springy, tiny fashion.
He looked at the painting. I decided to touch his little pee-pee. I flicked it back and forth with my index finger. I mean, the tip of my thumb was bigger than his hard dinkle.
He looked at me, “Hey. What are you doing?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist flicking something so damn pathetic looking. How do you go through life with such a small package?”
He ignored me, “It is a magnificent painting with sharp and detailed finery, but where is my penis? It is obvious in this painting I have no penis.”
“How is that different from you right now?”
“Please, don’t send this in. I have a penis, it may be small, but I do have one.”
“Stop being a big baby. I better powder that little thing,” I said. I pointed at the painting, “It is right there.”
“You can barely see it!”
“Please take a look at it with binoculars, then. It is an accurate representation. I think it is my best painting.”
“Please don’t release this.”
“I had an ulterior motive for painting you. Remember when I was a teenager, and you yanked my shorts down at the church retreat at the beach? Everyone saw me naked. It was mortifying. You also bullied me all the time when I was growing up. Imagine a grown man bullying a child. I vowed to get my revenge on you, and now I will. Get out before I call the cops, you micropenis-carrying virgin loser.”
“What about my clothes?”
“You don’t need them. Run home, Tiny Tim, haha.”
“Please, there must be something I can do.”
“There is one thing. Father Herald lives at the church that is pretty close to Lake Honoway. We can drop you off by the church, and you can tell him you were skinny dipping and someone stole your clothes.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve known him my whole life.”
“Well, it’s the only thing we will do for you and your pitiful penis.”
“I will do it. Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, yeah. Your penis is still ridiculously small.”
We all walked to the car with a bare naked Timothy. He sat in the passenger seat while his predicament very much amused us. He covered his peanut-sized snub.
I hit his hands away from his itsy bitsy babyish nublette toy.
“Don’t be covering that scared, infant-sized winky from me. We’ve already seen how tiny and diminutive your pinky is.”
We arrived half a mile from the church.
“Time to go, baby dick. Show Father Herald how tiny you are.”
He ran out the door in tears. I slapped his jiggling bare butt as he ran in the night, utterly naked with his tiny cock flipping around. About 25 minutes later, he entered the church completely naked without covering his baby bits, as he was ordered not to. He frantically searched everywhere for something to wear, but he couldn’t find anything. He saw where Father Herald was living. He knocked on his door.
Father Herald came out startled by what he saw. Timothy decided to cover his tiny manhood.
“Timothy, is that you? What are you doing naked at my doorstep in the night?”
“I was skinny dipping in Lake Honoway, but someone stole my clothes, so I ran here.”
“The lake where I conduct my baptisms?”
“Yes, I am sorry, Father.”
“You should be, as I use that place for religious purposes only. You used it to satisfy your perverted fantasies.”
“That’s not true. I thought I could be closer to God if I did that.”
“What was it you were looking for?”
“Answers about what, though?”
“Well, I’ve always felt insecure about myself, specifically my body. I was hoping to learn why God gave me this body.”
“What specifically are you referring to? I can’t help unless you tell me what is happening.”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh or judge me.”
“You know I would never do that.”
Timothy uncovered his small penis, now shrunken even to further nothingness due to the cold outside, to a bewildered priest. He smirked and just stared at it for a long time questioning why Timothy was conceived with such a hex and betrayal.
“I see what you mean. What are you concerned about?”
“I am concerned no one will fall for me because my penis is, you know.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” even though the Priest knew strictly why Timothy should be concerned.
“It’s obvious, Father, because my penis is very tiny.”
He chuckled, “Haha, yes, it is quite unbearably microscopic. How fascinating. You see, my boy, I baptize baby boys all the time, and they are comparable to yours. They would probably be bigger than you.”
Timothy couldn’t believe the Priest who baptized him was mocking his baby cock. A man he had looked up to for years now saw him for what he was, a man without a dick.
“What should I do?”
“I would say ‘pray’ on it because there’s nothing else you can do. God has given us different bodies, and we must accept them, even if they are humiliating.”
He held Timothy’s hand, “God gave you this useless package for a reason. It’s your job to figure out what your purpose is.”
Father Herald grabbed Timothy’s little dicklette with two fingers and massaged the grape-like head.
Timothy exclaimed, “Father, what are you doing?!”
“Be quiet, Timothy. If you will find acceptance in having such a small, puny dinkle, you need to let anyone do what they want with it. If they want a good laugh or if they want to have sex with a ‘man,’ it won’t be considered homosexuality because you are hung like a woman. You understand, boy?”
“Yes, I do, Father.”
He walked Timothy to the door and smacked his big buns.
“Aren’t you going to give me some clothes to wear?”
“Nope, that is your punishment for skinny dipping. Also, you were always such a jerk to so many people. You somewhat deserve this. Maybe it will humble you and that very small abomination.”
The Priest looked right at Timothy’s exposed, hairless clit-dick with morbid curiosity, “I remember when you were a little boy running around the church with your little pee-pee bouncing around. You just loved being naked as a boy. Not much has changed since then. You are still mommy’s little boy. When you go, cover up your tiny schmekel. No one wants to see a grown man with a small, insignificant boyhood.”
He laughed loudly and closed the door on Timothy. Timothy ran to his parent’s home in tears. He crashed through the front door, exposing himself to them. They just laughed at his little, small penis as it flopped around uncontrollably while he whimpered and cried. What a horrible night for Timothy and his little tweety.
I submitted the painting to an international art competition. It won first place, so everyone got a good look at Timothy’s very small manhood. It landed me in several magazines where I discussed in detail the inspiration and why I decided to paint Timothy. I called the painting “The Tiny Truth Behind the Manly Man.” Everyone in the small town laughed at his small penis everywhere he went. That put a smile on my face. In honor of me, the church allowed me to paint a mural of Timothy downright naked with his little tee-tee exposed.
Thousands of people traveled from across the country to see the mural. Most people took selfies with it, giving Timothy the small penis symbol or waving their pinkies. Last I heard of Timothy, he moved to a new state where I am sure he is still a little virgin with his half-inch baby cock that will never measure up to even a baby boy’s standard. Poor guy, but I got into my dream art school and couldn’t be happier.
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