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All names and characters contained herein are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either living or dead. This story is a work of fiction, a fantasy — so read it with a grain of salt and an open mind. All characters are at least 18 years of age. Voting and feedback is greatly appreciated, especially positive feedback and frequent “fives”.
I was born with a thimble dick. As a boy growing up, my older brother had the nickname “Wang” due to his unusually large size. At the age of 16 he discovered Jesus and decided to save himself for marriage. What a fucking waste. There I was, all through my misspent adolescence, hoping to score with hot chicks (or ugly chicks – I was an equal opportunity pervert), but failing miserably mainly due to my miniscule member (nice alliteration, eh?).
In high school I was the guy who would turn shyly away from the rest of the group while dressing out for gym class. Every time I would try to pee at a urinal in a crowded bar or football game (pee troughs were the worst) I would worry that my piss splash was too light and that the other guys would know I had a tiny dick. The result: dreadful “bashful bladder” syndrome.
I mean, I could have scored with chicks, but I had performance anxiety. I’m not a bad looking guy – about six feet tall, blonde, decent shape (played soccer in school), but I couldn’t get past the thought that the girl would be comparing me to the last romeo that fucked her brains out.
So here I am, mid 20’s, single, addicted to internet porn, no longer a virgin (uncomplicated, no pressure call girl sex fixed that), but still hung up on my penis size. Women always say “penis size is not important”, but I cry bullshit on that. I was becoming pathetically despondent and even contemplating suicide when I read an advertisement that caught my eye.
Wulfwinter Laboratories is interviewing prospective male applicants for exciting new sexual technology. Must be between the ages of 18 and 30. Apply at 130 Washington Ave M-F 1:30-3:30pm. Paying up to $1,000 to qualified subjects.
Hmmm? Exciting new sexual technology sounded interesting. Qualified subjects sounded kinda creepy. Especially when paired with the laboratories part of the name. But hell, I could always use $1,000.00.
The next day I called in sick at my shitty job as a restaurant server and threw on a pair of faded Levi’s, an old Miskatonic U. tee-shirt, smelly flip flops, and drove my old rusty beater downtown. Wulfwinter Laboratories was in a small, nondescript three-story red brick building on a street corner in the industrial part of town, overlooking the city skyline. Outside it didn’t look like much, but the lobby inside was spacious, tastefully decorated with an expensive Persian rug, rich, dark hardwood floors and colorful Peter Paul Rubens prints adorning the walls (fat chicks rock!).
Behind the dark mahogany Queen Anne desk sat a stunning older lady wearing a white lab coat, her hair up in a chaste bun, and an assortment of clipboards in front of her.
“Are you here to apply, sir?” She asked crisply.
“Um, yes, sure… I mean, I guess so.” I replied. “What exact—”
“Just fill out this questionnaire and your research liaison will be happy to answer all of your inquiries.”
She absently held out a clipboard and gestured towards one of the lobby chairs.
I obediently sat down and began filling out the form. The usual questions: name, birth date, allergies, past diseases — it was interestingly heavy on the sexually transmitted disease section, naming malaises I’d never even heard of before. I mean, what the fuck is New Guinea Elephantosis? Whatever it was, I checked “no” for all. Difficult to catch an STD when you get laid about once a year and wear a double thick condom because you are screwing a hooker, right?
Under the section “sexual experience” I checked “minimal”. For reason in applying, I wrote in “I’m broke and curious.”
A few minutes after filling out the form, a cute nurse stepped out through a door and called my name. I followed her back (pert ass in the white nurse skirt gave me a little boner) to “interview room
“, where she efficiently took a small blood sample from my right arm and then left me with my feet dangling from the paper-covered examination table.
After about ten minutes the door opened and a goddess walked in. She was about 5’8″, 110lbs, with long golden sleek legs, slender athletic build, her chestnut hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, chique European glasses perched on the end of her pert little nose. She had a smattering of freckles on her beautiful face and her green eyes sparkled merrily as she smiled, showing perfect, even white teeth. She made her lab coat look like an evening gown.
“Hello, I’m Doctor Witherspoon, your research liaison.” She held out her hand in greeting and I broke out into a sweat and my heart started palpitating.
I reached out with a sweaty palm and shook her hand. She had a nice firm, escort ataşehir reassuring grip.
I started to ask about the mysterious “sexual technology”, but she politely cut me off with a wave of her hand.
“Before you ask questions, let me quickly go through this list – kind of a weed-out screening process, if you will.”
“Your name is Trenton Mitchell Jones, correct? That’s not an alias, or phony name you put down?
“Uh, no, that’s my name, on my birth certificate and everything.”
“How often do you engage in sexual intercourse, Mr. Jones?”
“Um, uh, not too often.”
“Would you say it’s more or less than once a year?”
“Twice a year?”
“Uh, yeah, about that often.”
“Is the sexual congress mutually satisfying?”
“Um, mutually satisfying?”
“Yes, do you both achieve orgasm?”
“Uh, I’m not sure…I mean, I do, but my partner doesn’t usually care if she does…I think.”
“Oh, and why is that?”
“Um, err, because she’s a hooker, Doctor Witherspoon.”
“Okay, so you have only had intercourse with prostitutes? And do you use contraceptives?
“Yes, and yes – condoms.”
“What brand and kind of condoms do you use?”
“Uh, Trojan Slim Jim Ultras – they don’t slide off.”
“Slim Jim Ultras? Is your penis below average in girth?”
I sighed deeply, “Yes, my penis is small.”
I felt about six inches tall, and a bright red flush crept up my neck.
“What would you say if I told you that we might be able to rectify your problem.”
“Rectify my problem? You mean, like turn me into a turbo-lover or something?”
“Wulfwinter Laboratories is funded by Wulfwinter Technologies – founded by the great Doctor Ernst Wulfwinter. Dr. Wulfwinter was once like you, shy, introverted, and pathetically small in the genitalia area. He is now a multi-billionaire, and one of his latest ventures is to create the first penis enlargement medicine. After spending hundreds of millions of dollars, our team of over thirty-five scientists think they may have discovered a drug that increases penis size. And we are looking for young men to test it for us.”
“Yes, you could say that. Judging from your application, I’d say you might be a perfect candidate. You are young, healthy, disease free, rather presentable,” she paused and looked me up and down, and her tongue darted out and licked her upper lip. Her lip gloss shined wetly.
“In summary, Mr. Jones, we’d like to take you on as a test subject. Your pay would be $10,000.00 per month, tax free. You would be expected to move in here – we have several bachelor pad apartments upstairs, and you will be schooled in the art of…making love.”
“Um, making love?”
“Not only will we give you a larger, thicker, longer penis, but we will teach you how to use it.”
“Um, uh…that sounds great. Where do I sign?” Let’s hope my penis doesn’t turn green and fall off.
After signing pages and pages of legalese I was shown to my “bachelor pad.” It was a small studio apartment with high ceilings, hardwood floors and exposed brick and ductwork. The furniture was modern elegant, lots of black and chrome and dark leather. The stereo system was state of the art, with Bose surround sound. A small balcony overlooked the city and the street below hummed with after work activity.
A petite latino woman came in and took my measurements, promising to return soon with a whole new wardrobe.
Next to the refrigerator was a small wine cabinet holding about 20 bottles of wine. I pulled out a bottle of 2004 Toscana Tignanello, and peered uncertainly at the label.
Not being much of a wine connoisseur, I opened the fridge and smiled. Pabst Blue Ribbon – perfect.
Cracking open a can, I mosied onto the balcony and sat down in one of the metal chairs.
“PBR, nice choice – will you be going bowling later?”
I jumped out of the chair like I had been electrocuted and turned to find Doctor Witherspoon standing just inside the apartment, regarding me quizzically.
“Yeah…PBR…I like it almost as much as Mad Dog 20-20.”
She had taken off her lab coat and was wearing a short, dark blue skirt and a silky white blouse, unbuttoned three buttons down, showing cleavage and the edge of her black lace bra.
I gulped and stared down at her shoes.
“Please step inside the apartment and remove your pants and underwear.”
“Please remove your clothing, I need to take some measurements.”
“Oh, okay…I guess. Um, can you turn around or something?”
Doctor Witherspoon sighed deeply and turned to face the other way. I quickly ripped off my jeans and tighty whities and sat on the bed, hands over my crotchal area.
She turned back around and approached me. Easing herself to her knees in front of me, she gently placed her hands on mine and eased my legs open.
My cock had retreated to its nest, deep inside my pubic hair. kadıköy escort bayan Poking out barely half an inch in its flaccid state, my tiny weenie looked pitiful and I turned four shades of scarlet.
I could feel her hot breath on the insides of my thighs and she looked up at me and smiled.
“Believe it or not, I’ve seen smaller.”
“Um, I’m a little intimidated. I mean, you are so beautiful, and I’m, like…a total dork.”
“First things first, you are not a dork unless you believe yourself to be a dork. I mean, look at Bill Gates, he’s pretty dorky, but every woman on the planet would love a chance to fuck his brains out.”
“Yeah, but he’s got billions.”
“True, perhaps that wasn’t the best analogy. At any rate, from here on out you are to be upbeat about yourself – no more self deprecating comments.”
“You have a nice, toned body, thick blonde hair, long legs and a slim waist. In a week you may have a nice, long, thick penis to go with your body.”
“What do you mean, ‘may'”
“Well, not everyone who tries the Wulfwinter growth serum has great results. Hopefully in your case you will. Now, let’s see, you are about 1 inch in length flaccid, about an inch in diameter – how long do you get when erect?”
“Um, maybe four, four-and-a-half inches?”
She reached up and held my little penis in her hand, squeezing gently. I felt myself responding slightly, but then it went away. Usually when I wanted it to get erect it failed me miserably, but when I didn’t, it poked the front of my trousers out obscenely.
“I guess I’ll take your word for it. Most men when erect are only a few inches longer than when flaccid.”
“For the next month you will follow our strict diet and exercise regimen. Your personal trainer, Helga, will be here at 7am sharp to begin your physical induction. After one week, if you show an inclination to accept our program we will start you on Wulfwinter 320, the serum.”
During this speech she was softly fondling my tiny balls with one hand, and stroking my little shaft with the other. After a few moments I finally began to respond.
“Ahhh, there we go, it looks like it finally wants to come out and play.”
Her eyebrows rose and her eyes twinkled as she looked up at me. “Spike?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I call him…Spike.”
“Well, Spike,” she was talking directly to my little erection, her hot breath wafting across my pubic hair and upper thighs, “Why don’t you and I get more acquainted…”
Her tongue darted out and swirled around my little purple head. After bathing me up one side and down the other, she abruptly engulfed my entire cock with her hot, wet mouth.
Moaning softly, she slurped up and down my cock, causing me to straighten my legs and arch my back.
“Mury gud,” she murmered over a mouthful of cock, “ful fwee u cum amy ime oo want.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer, and I shot my load deep down her throat, writhing in ecstasy as she expertly licked and sucked every last drop out of my four inch erection.
Sitting back on her heels, she daintily dabbed a bit of cum off her chin with her finger and licked it clean.
“Excellent, your sperm is delicious, if a bit salty. It’s good to see that your equipment works fine. We’ll have to work on your staying power though.”
“Uh, okay, that sounds good.” And it did, really. In fact, I was seeing myself having to work extra hard on my “staying power”.
“See you tomorrow.” With that, she breezed out of the apartment.
Helga turned out to be the stereotypical East German swim team woman. Remember back in the 70’s when the Olympics came along, the East German women always seemed really butch and mean looking? That was Helga. She frightened me. She also liked to finish my workout (on the rooftop fully-equipped gym) with sweaty, nasty anal sex.
After the first day I was totally wiped, she led me back to my apartment, took me inside, rolled her spandex workout suit down to her ankles, got on her hands and knees, and over her shoulder demanded, “do me in za azz, ya? Now while we both all svetty, ya?”
It took me a while to get it up, but she patiently hunkered down on her knees and fingered herself until she was nice and wet, all the while saying things like “Ya, do me in za ass, spank Helga’s azz gud and hard, make Helga pay for za nice workout, ya?”
I lasted about five minutes of frenetic ass fucking (my first time doing anal), and after cumming deep inside her I fell back and smiled at the large, splotchy, red handprints on her cheeks.
“Be back again tomorrow, ya?”
A week later I was slightly more toned, and getting more and more comfortable with my diminutive cock size. I was sitting outside on the balcony enjoying sliced apples and cheese along with a glass of French Montrachet when Dr. Witherspoon pleasantly broke my reverie.
“Hello, Mr. Jones – today is the big day. We give you the Wulfwinter serum escort bostancı tonight, along with a few sleeping pills, and tomorrow morning you wake up with your new and improved penis.”
I gulped, grinned sheepishly and looked her up and down.
“Will, we, uh, you know…continue to, um, work together afterwards, Doc?”
She smiled radiantly, “Yes, I am still your assigned research liaison. Oh, and I’m very skilled at deepthroating large organs, so don’t worry about that.”
There was a polite knock on the apartment door and Maria, the petite latino seamstress entered, carrying what looked to be an entire new wardrobe.
“Allo, sir. Joo need new clothes, no?”
“Si, um, I mean, yes, sure. I guess I do.” I looked down at my ratty jeans and frayed Halo 3 tee shirt with chagrin.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to your fitting. I’ll see you tonight at 9pm, Mr. Jones.” With that, Doctor Witherspoon left, leaving behind the scent of lilacs and Chanel No.5.
Maria help up a pair of black slacks, tilted her head sideways and quizzically touched her index finger to her bottom lip.
“Joo look like joo have lost pounds thees week, no? Take off jor pantalones, por favor.”
I was beginning to get used to stripping in front of women, so I quickly dropped trou and stood there proudly in my fruit of the looms. Strangely enough, I actually started to get hard.
As Maria bent down to help me put my feet into the trousers, her long, silky, black hair brushed my thighs and Spike rose to his unimpressive four inch height.
Maria looked up and saw my erection and smiled. “Joo take the serum tonight, no?”
“Yes, tonight’s the big night.”
“And tomorrow joo will be much larger.”
“Yes, that’s the plan.”
“I am, how joo say? Very small woman? Very…petite?”
“Um, yes, joo, I mean you are very petite.” And she was. Only about 4’8″, maybe 75 pounds soaking wet, with small, very pert breasts, Maria was practically Lilliputian.
“Sex weeth men weeth large equipmaint can be painful for me, joo know? Can I ask joo something, Meester Jones?”
“Go right ahead, Maria.”
She reached out and traced the outline of my little erect penis with her finger and looked up into my eyes. “Can I bee jor last fuck before joo take the serum?”
Her hands clasped the elastic waistband of my briefs and rolled them down, down, down, all the way to my ankles. She then reached up and with one hand, pushed me back onto the bed.
She crawled up onto me, slowly, langourously licking her way up my legs, lapping my inner thighs without touching my privates and licked and kissed her way up my flat stomach. Stopping momentarily to suckle my erect nipples, she reached down and pulled my hand to her hot, moist cleft.
“Joo see how wet joo make me, Mr. Jones? I love jor body.”
Her sex was sloppy wet and hot as a furnace, her breath quickened and she began to pant as I rubbed her pussy lips and clitoris.
She continued to crawl up my body until she had straddled my face, her hands clutching the headboard above me.
“Lick me, Mr. Jones, lick me unteel I scream.”
One thing about guys with small dicks – we all love to lick pussy. I guess its nature’s way of evening things out. We know vaginal sex might be unspectacular for the woman, so we make up for it with oral enthusiasm. I shit you not. Ladies, I dare you to find a small dicked guy who isn’t good at cunnilingus. If you do, dump him, because he’s most likely a self-centered asshole too.
Maria apparently appreciated my efforts, because within a few minutes she was humping my face with abandon, her head thrown back, howling as she had a crashing orgasm. Most women dislike that position, as they are afraid they are going to smother the man. As a man, here is my response – smother away. Go nuts on my face, grind away – you are not going to do any damage, in fact, there is no better sexual power trip for a man than to have a woman have an earth-shattering cum while riding his face.
After she came down off her climax she swung her leg over and smiled lasciviously at my cream-streaked face. I was literally dripping with juices, and she eagerly licked my face clean of all trace of our activity.
“Leeft up a second, Mr. Jones.” Maria slid a pillow under my ass to raise me up slightly, and then swung her leg over me again.
Sliding my hard cock into her slick, wet pussy, Maria sat down with a flush and a grunt.
“Joo like that, no? I like eet mucho, Mr. Jones.”
She began sliding up and down my small pole, and if my size bothered her, she didn’t let on. She was extremely tight, tighter than any prostitute I had ever boned, that’s for sure.
Picking up the pace, she moaned and thrust herself up and down, her muscular, tight brown ass slapping my thighs.
“Play weeth my cleet, Mr. Jones, I am getting clooooose.”
With my thumb I reached down and rubbed her wet little clit as she bounced up and down on my member.
Having already cum twice that day (once by hand, once by Helga), I was able to hold off my orgasm and make it really last.
Maria grabbed me by the hair with both hands and rode me like I was a Kentucky Derby thoroughbred, screaming and whipping her hair around.
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