Chapter Four: Spring
This is a story about my massive cock, and the tiny dicklet of this bottom I used to date.
All you subs with little nubs should donate to Nifty!
#SPH #GaySPH #SizeMatters #Phallocracy
#SmallPenisHumiliation? More like #SmallClitHumiliation!
We were in Art's South London maisonette. The camera was rolling, the light's were set, and it was time for the big reveal.
After three months of continuous chastity, several of our OnlyFans followers were curious to know whether the cage had worked in shrinking Art's dicklet and stopping him from getting erections.
I decided to open our livestream by making Art work for his boyclit's freedom. Normally I'm pretty dom and like to be on top when I top, but I sat on an armchair with my massive alpha cock pointing over ten inches towards the ceiling, and made him mount it - bouncing up and down to work for my load. It took him about half an hour, and I could see he was struggling - with both my size still and the hard work of raising and lowering himself onto my big pole rhythmically. It felt fucking great for me though; his hole was still so tight and velvety smooth, and I knew I'd be breeding him with a huge load soon.
I threw my head back as I came and cuddled him close to me. Normally he likes to snuggle after earning my cum, but I could tell he was anxious to get the cage off too.
Acquiescing, I created a good camera angle where the viewers could see me release the padlock - and had Art do the rest in terms of removing the cage and the ring. I had our trusty ruler to the ready and measured:
The results were okay, if a little underwhelming
"One-point-three inches," I announced to the camera and the world.
Three months of the inability to get an erection had atrophied Art's little dicklet tissue by all of zero-point-two inches. Better than nothing, but it felt like a lot of hard work for such `little' results.
I'd turned twenty a few weeks ago, and it occurred to me that my big cock hadn't been measured for a few months. I decided to add that into the show. The numbers bear repeating for everyone to hear anyway, and maybe my last year or two of biological adolescence might have bestowed on me an even greater gift.
I had Art get on his knees and measure my hardening dick. It got real big - from knowing we'd shrunk his cock successfully, albeit modestly; from knowing how much more huge mine was; and from knowing we had about 800 people on the internet watching. As Art measured it, a smile flashed across both our faces
"Ten-point-four inches!" he exclaimed, more for me than the camera.
Sweeeeeet! That chastity cage had made him lose point-two inches, and my alpha stud body had grown another point-two inches of dick all of its own accord. The poetry of it all almost made up for the fact I was so close to but not quite ten-and-a-half inches.
I started cockslapping his face, as the camera looked at us side on, wondering whether to end the show there or if I fancied another fuck. Yeahhh, I wanted to get an angle of me fucking him missionary where you could see my massive bigger-than-ever cock pistoning in his pussy, with his little dicklet in view.
So I lay him down on the sofa, moved the camera around, and mounted that couch as deftly as I was about to mount my tiny-dicked boyfriend's pussyhole.
I alternated between kissing him and slapping him - giving the different fans a bit of what they want, but it also described our relationship pretty well - passionate, intense, and with one of us clearly in charge.
Glancing down at his dicklet, uncaged for the first time in three months, was weird. But my initial distaste for it changed as I realised something ... he wasn't getting hard! That laughable little dicklet was just jiggling around to the rhythm of my grinding, thrusting, pounding hips as I smashed open that little pussy once more and felt it squeeze gratefully around my massive shaft.
Now THAT was fucking hot. Not just a tiny-dicked bottom, but a limp one at that. Power hormones flooded through me as my understanding of the difference between Alphas like me and faggots like Art reached new heights. Watching him whimper, alternating between pleasure and pain, just how I like to inflict it with my mighty fuck club was hot too - I grabbed his hair, kissed him roughly, then pulled his head down so he could see it too.
He knew what I wanted him to see right away, and his eyes lit up - with actual pride. I was moulding this bottom's mind to the point that he WANTED to be small for me, he WANTED to be soft for me - and that was such a fucking power kick and the best feeling in the world.
After firing another huge and explosive load of cum from my monster cock into his smooth wet pliant hole, I told him and our 800 live viewers how proud I was of him for being a flaccid little bottom, then switched off the camera.
A week later, I woke up in bed with Art. Ninety percent of the time, I'm the big spoon, but even a cocky young top like me likes to be cuddled sometimes. This morning, I woke up with Art spooning me. Early on in the relationship, I'd instinctively moved my leg far away from where his little boners might touch halfway down my thigh (don't want anyone getting the wrong ideas!). However subconsciously, however, this last week I'd not been bothering when Art spooned me; maybe I liked the new unthreatening softness of that tiny dick, knowing how I'd taken away its erections and some of its size made me feel like the fucking MAN! A week after the unlock, however, something didn't feel quite right. It was still small and pretty soft, but not what I remembered from the previous few mornings. I jolted forward out of the hug and whipped off the duvet--
He had a fucking semi!!! Three months of locking up his cock had granted me just one week of having a no-boner boyfriend. For fuck's sake!!! I'd only just shrunk him down to one-point-three inches; but this semi had to be approaching two inches. Still pitifully below average, and nowhere near my ten-point-four inches of prime alpha meat, but it just wasn't good enough. I wanted my puny dicklet boyfriend to have the smallest, softest clit in the world - so that he and everyone else knew without equivocation that he was a receptacle for dick and cum who would never, ever use his little boyclit for anything but pissing (- and even then, only sitting down!).
I knew it wouldn't be fair to shout at him, so I didn't bother waking him up. I stormed from his bedroom to his living room, and started searching on Google on my iPhone for better ways I could fucking fix this.
A week later, I had exactly what I needed. We were in my favourite position, on the sofa at Art's place, his head in my lap as he played with my weighty ten-inch schlong - not trying to get me off, he was just gently caressing it, tugging at it and adoring it. I had my hand along his back, gently stroking the crack between his killer butt cheeks.
"Art, darling," I began, softly. "I think I've got a solution to all your little erections."
"What is it?" he said. His tiny hard-ons didn't annoy him as much as they annoyed me, but I knew he wanted to please me.
"Pass me my rucksack," I told him; and he got up and did as he was told.
I rummaged around in the bag and pulled it out. A bottle, bought online, of 365 oestrogen hormone therapy tablets.
"What the fuck?" asked Art, genuinely shocked. "You want to turn me into a girl?!"
"No, relax," I said, remaining calm to help soothe him. "They're not very strong ones. I don't want you to get tits or anything. These will just help with stopping you from getting hard so much. You want to be my soft little bottom boy, right?"
"Seems a little extreme," he protested. "Can't we just try the cage again?"
The custom-built world's smallest chastity cage lay unused and unloved since I'd released Art's little boyclit from it a fortnight earlier.
"No, fuck that cage!" I blurted, perhaps a little too angrily. I tried to calm myself again. "It was so expensive, and didn't keep you soft for long enough or smaller enough as we wanted at all, did it?"
I wasn't sure how much he wanted it; but I was determined to have the smallest softest dicked bottom in humanity. My hard ten-inch cock bounced of its own accord as I thought about it, drawing looks from both me and Art.
We bickered back and forth for forty minutes. Him saying he wasn't sure medicine was the right route; me asking whether he didn't want to let me know what a stud I was; him saying he'd try harder to stay soft; me saying the ball-flicking method was suboptimal. Finally, I snapped.
"Fine!" I said. "If you don't want to be a limp little bottom for your man, then no dick for you."
I strained to get my hard-on back in my skinny jeans and zipped them up, and we both watched it straining against the left leg - a substantial dickprint as ever. It wasn't in my nature not to stick it in a nearby willing hole when I was hard, but there was a lesson Art had to learn.
For a week, we did everything normally ... except I wouldn't fuck Art or let him suck me.
That's not to say I wasn't getting off. I hit up a few old hook-ups and found some new ones, getting them to let me take pics and vids of them choking on my alpha cock or using it to smash in their back doors, and messaging them to Art. That accounted for half of my loads that week.
The other half I had to make do myself. I'd wake up with morning wood, with Art next to me, and reach down and start wanking myself off. I'd make sure to `accidentally' knock my elbow into him to wake him up if I had to. The first couple of times he instinctively did what he loved to do, and what I'd have expected him to do, and moved his sleepy cocksucking lips under the duvet to suck out my morning load. But that week I stopped him
"No, I don't want it," I'd say, matter-of-factly. He looked crestfallen. He stared at my hand working its way up and down my big shaft. I added a second hand just for show - letting him know he was missing a chance to get my ten-point-four inch pole down his throat or up his pussy because he was disappointing me. I'd moved the duvet away so he could get a real good look; and he stared the whole time, his little three-inch hard-on - there, but untouched; but almost back to its pre-cage size, letting me know I was doing what had to be done.
I came a moderate amount (no one who gets hole as easily as I do likes to wank, but it was obviously still bigger than any of the little faggasms I'd started giving Art once a week or so - I like to keep him horny), splurting my hot young cum all over my chest, hand and shaft, trickling down to my weighty balls. Art moved forward again to lick it up for me, but I used my wrist to push his head away, stood up, wiped it on a towel, which I put straight into the washing machine - making sure I closed the machine's door loud enough that he could hear.
Seven days of this brought him to breaking point. As I started stroking my cock for my daily morning wank, he begged:
"OKAY. I'll do it. Please! Please give me your dick again!"
"You'll do what? And why?"
"I'll take the pills because you want me to."
"No, that doesn't sound very enthusiastic," I chided him. "Be more specific. It's a big decision - you said so yourself."
"I'll take the hormones to make my dick soft," he said, nervously, but I could see his horniness and desperation for my cock were winning over. "Because you're the only one who needs erections. You have all the erections we need."
Well, I'll be damned if the little sub didn't directly quote me back to me. Perfect!
"Okay, baby, well if you're sure," I said. I'd kept the pill bottle in my rucksack, knowing he'd break eventually. As I procured it, he dived forward to try to take the pills for me.
"Nah, I've got a better idea. Kneel down."
We picked a spot in front of the bedroom mirror, so I could see him in his rightful place - subservient on his knees - me towering over him as my massive cock towered over his face - longer than head. We both looked over at this awesome sight.
Then I face-fucked him hard, having a lot of built up tension from the week of disagreement. You'd have thought he'd be out of practice, but he swallowed my ten inches better than he'd ever swallowed it before - clearly hungry for a real cock inside him again.
I released his head and let him take over for a bit, and undid the lid of the pill bottle full of feminising hormones.
Fuck me! It was so hot. Art was such a good little boy, such a non-man, he was going to girlify himself for me. Just the idea was enough to bring me to the edge, which was perfect because--
I jerked Art's head from my massive throbbing cock, I placed one of the little pink pills on his tongue, and jerked my fuck club with the plum-sized head pointed right at his mouth and BLAM BLAM BLAM
I used my masculine essence - spray after spray of my cum - to fire that feminising little tablet straight into Art's gullet, where it could start to work its softening magic.
Art glanced up at me with some apprehension, but also an appreciative lusty stare; and opened his mouth to show me he'd swallowed everything down, before kissing my dick over and over, grateful to have it back in his life and his holes.
It only took a week before I knew I'd made the right choice. The chastity cages had taken several months of hard work to produce moderate results for just a week. The oestrogen was giving me what I wanted and Art what he needed after just seven days.
I noticed it, as is often the case, in the mornings - when Art's little three-inch boners had been most consistent. But I'd been watching intently every morning. By day two, he was back down to a two-inch semi. And now, on day seven, we'd had three mornings in a row of no erection whatsoever.
While he was giving me my morning blowjob, I pointed it out to him
"Are you enjoying my big dick?" I asked him.
"Mmm-hmmm," he mumbled, with my massive glans stuffing his mouth, nodding his head. He was deliberately letting little rivulets of saliva drip down, making sure my big shaft was slick for his lips and fingers.
"Are you sure? You're not hard at all."
He looked up at me, with a mixture of pride and apprehension - but the positive emotions were definitely starting to outweigh the scared ones, especially after all the praise I heaped on him for staying soft.
His eyes smiled, and I smiled back at him, holding his hair gently - I took my massive cock by the base - a good seven or eight inches of it still poking out from my fist - and smacked it against his face. I knew at that moment, and Art knew too I think, that the loud thudding thwack of my mighty cock against his cheeks made a noise and inflicted a slap that his soft, shrinking little dicklet would never achieve.
I shoved my cock back between his lips, the head running over his tongue, feeling out for his throat which felt awesome constricting tight and wet on my shaft, and I used him like a fleshjack to bring myself to a truly mindblowing orgasm.
Another week thereafter, after two weeks on the pills, we decided to tell the Twitter and OnlyFans following about the tablets. I just HAD to have the world know what I was doing to this already tiny-dicked bottom, and that he was letting me do it, as I stripped him of whatever claim to manhood his three-inch boners might previously have given him. And if some doms and subs out there can be inspired by us and find their way to this blissful arrangement, then all the better.
My parents were away for the Easter break, so we were at their place in Chelsea in the garden. I didn't give a fuck if the neighbours saw us naked, with the cameras rolling - in fact, why shouldn't they know the kid who grew up next door to them was packing a massive cock, and his boyfriend had the tiddliest dick around?
I had Art give a monologue to the camera
"Hey everyone. It's Art here," he said, even the way he spoke was getting a bit softer with these pills. He was totally naked - no jockstrap, no cage - just that soft little peepee for all the world to see. His chest hair was still there, but it too had become sparser and more soft - it was ideal - a bit feminised, but still letting us both know that here knelt what was once a man whose manhood I had vanquished with my fucked up mind and ten-inch dick.
"So, Matthias got these special tablets for me. As you know, Matt's got one of the biggest dicks around - ten-point-four inches the last time we measured it. I love his big cock - it's seven inches around, and sometimes it's too much for even me to take, but when he fucks me good my dicklet leaks and I know I was born to take dick."
He'd come up with the copy, but I'd given some edits `til we were both happy with it
"My little dicklet on the other hand," he continued to camera, "was barely three inches hard. But Matt's always said I don't need to be hard, which is why he got me these girly pills. I'm gonna take one for you now guys, okay?"
This was my cue to stride on to camera, with a big eight-inch semi swinging between my legs. Art looked right into my eyes and placed that oestrogen tablet on his tongue, and I took aim with my cock and started PISSING, in the garden, right in his mouth.
Yeah, that's right. I've even got the little bottom boy drinking piss directly from my dick - I want him to worship everything about my cock and what comes from it: precum, jizz and even my piss. It was so hot that my MIGHTY cock was the thing pushing that shrinking pill down his throat and into his sissifying bloodstream for me.
After he'd gulped it up like a good boy, showing his empty mouth first to me and then to camera, I took over the talking.
"So I bet you guys are wondering what Art's lil boyclit looks like now, huh? We're gonna show you."
I had a hunch of what the numbers were going to show, and I was VERY excited; but we hadn't measured yet, as I wanted to get it on camera. I moved the `phone, still rolling, into a bird's eye view as Art used the back of his hand to lift his balls slightly so that soft pitiful little dicklet of his I've grown to love was horizontal. I brought our old friend the ruler up against it.
"One-point-one inches," I called out.
Art bit his lip, and I grinned ecstatically for the camera. Around us, flowers bloomed in the spring time air; I'd bloomed another massive erection; but Art's dicklet wasn't blooming at all - it was soft and impassive - as his bottomhood bloomed anew.
By this point - as I said - my huge boner was rock hard again, and I took away the ruler and put my cock there instead. My erection was now over TEN TIMES longer than Art's pathetic little boyclit, and I began using my huge schlong to slap-slap-slap his tiny package for the viewers at home - the plum-sized head of my cock, bullying and bigger than his little balls and dicklet.
We'll have to get on The Visualiser again, I vowed to myself, and run these numbers through. My dick might have another year left of growth in it; while Art's is shrinking closer and closer to what nature intended.
Leaving the camera with its bird's eye view, I let Art get on his knees so he could blow me. The size disparity gave me a rush that made my cock feel extra powerful and pleasured as I pounded away at his throat, looking down at his watering eyes and flushed cheeks - almost a year of dating, and my dick still makes him cry. Fucking sweet!
As I was reaching the edge of another awesome cumshot I made him stand up, so I could shoot my load all over his little boyclit - rubbing in the changes I had made, for my sake, for his, and for all the world to see.
As the end of spring approached, so did the one-year anniversary of me meeting Art.
I'd made a few changes to his wardrobe by then. While I am a 110% hole-seeking total top, girls and women have never really interested me. Maybe because I love the different sizes of dick out there - and especially having one of the biggest - ploughing some chick has never appealed `cos she doesn't have anything with which I can compete and win.
But some of you fans out there introduced me to concepts such as femboys and boywives and sissies, and I have to say I found it pretty hot.
So that's when I started replacing all of Art's jockstraps with panties - thongs were a particular favourite, keeping his killer butt on show, and being just a string's pull away from me fucking him whenever and where I want. What I especially love is that while jocks are designed for men, giving them a little pouch for a dick at the front - which Art couldn't really fill, but it made him look bigger down there than he is, - panties are designed for girls, and did a fantastic job of almost smoothing down where Art's vanishingly tiny boyclit was. That turned me on like fuck.
So here I had Art, still a man to the outside world, albeit one who needs to shave less, and with even softer slim curves than when I met him - laying on his back with me 69ing him while he wore nothing but a bright red thong for me.
I'd pulled that string aside and devoured his pussy like a starving man - mad with lust for what a pussyboy I'd turned him into, while my massive alpha cock hammered at his throat, throbbing with pleasure at every splutter of pain I heard him make.
That was pretty heavenly and was almost enough to make me cum. But I pulled myself back from shooting my load, pulling my dick back too so Art could worship it expertly with his cocksucking tongue.
A moment of curiosity struck me. I stopped eating out his hole for a second and looked at the beautiful near-flat front of the thong, but then pulled that aside too--
There it was. The perfectly limp and tiny dicklet I had created. I'd not touched Art's junk very much - the early and now unnecessary ball-flicking to make him soft aside - but seeing it there, so tiny, so inert, so totally unlike an actual cock made me curious.
I reached forward with my tennis-calloused thumb and forefinger, which must have felt so rough and manly next to his softness, and closed them around that pencil thin little nub. I didn't wank it up and down with the two digits like he was a boy, of course - there'd barely have been room to do even that even if I wanted to. I just sort of wiggled it from side to side. Even though he had the massive cock he loved in his mouth, and even though that little pin dick was being touched, it made no effort to get hard whatsoever - I didn't feel so much as a single weak rush of blood to it - as I jiggled it back and forth for my amusement, thinking about how harmless and useless it was - not a dick at all. I prodded his balls, which were atrophying too; no longer firm-ish and marble sized, they'd shrunk down to something akin to raisins, too small for his already tiny nutsack. And that dicklet - it looked the smallest it had ever looked - I had the sudden urge to measure it right away.
Pulling my cock from Art's mouth, I went to fetch the ruler, and brought it up against the little boyclit I had created. I swelled with pride, for me, for Art, for the phallocratic hierarchy and the natural order of the world - 0.9". I gave it another little jiggle. Nothing, not a hint of a semi. FUCK YES!!!!!
I was shaking with excitement a little as I tried to measure myself, so I had to get Art to do it for me. My dick was throbbing with probably the most massive hard-on I'd had in my young life - and I'm pleased to say that that late spring my massive alpha COCK finally topped out at just over 10.5" - with probably another year of growing to even more mind-blowing hugeness if I was lucky.
When I later measured our exact lengths and girths later (a massive 26.7cm and 18.4cm for me; and a tiny 2.3cm and 3.8cm for Art) and worked out the volumes, it turned out I was now not just more than ten times longer - but I had 222 more volume than he did. My MASTER COCK was TWO-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY-TWO times bigger than Art's little dicklet; he was already a fraction of the man I was when I met him, and now I had shrunk him down to less than half-a-percent of the man I was. Isn't that fucking wild?!
But I didn't run those numbers `til the next day. Art had put the front of his panties back over his little peepee again by this point, and it was almost perfectly flat. As I got up on the bed and spread his legs, ready to fuck him, I looked carefully and realised that it wasn't his limp little shrimp dick making the small bulge, but his nutsack.
I needed his hole right away. I spread his legs around me and pulled his thong string aside, needing no spit after eating his boypussy earlier, and pressed insistently at that smooth tight hole: my big 10.5" bludgeon easily defeating any resistance.
It was a hard and brutal fuck, `cos I was just so horny. I leant forwards to kiss him, but also so I could use my tensed rock hard slim-toned abs to smash into his atrophied little package with each of my aggressive thrusts. It only took three or four before I started hearing him whimper and blubber into my kisses.
"What's wrong, baby?" I asked him, pulling away from the kiss, but continuing to slam my hard torso into what was left of his little nuts with full force.
"Nothing," he blubbed, lying for me - he could see how thrilled I was that he'd shrunk his little dicklet down to less than an inch for me, and now didn't get erections at all. I'd definitely keep him on these pills for as long as we were boyfriends: they were working wonders. But it wasn't until his dicklet had shrunk to less than an inch that I really put thought into his tender little nuts, which I was currently whacking into with my tight muscles - every fuck thrust I slammed into him eliciting yelps and whimpers of pain, causing his hole to tighten and increasing my pleasure.
I wondered to myself, if I fucked him like this from now on, he might learn that his tiny little balls are useless too. Maybe if he learnt the only thing they had to offer was the pain of me fucking into them he might agree with a wicked idea forming in my mind that would bring him even closer to what nature intended. Fuck, the idea was almost enough to make me cum; and I had to slow down a few times, before continuing the assault on his hole and on his balls.
When I met Art, his little three-inch hard-ons were so tiny compared to my ten inches, he knew that he was a pussyboy and I was THE MAN. Despite his reluctance, he'd let me parade him around London, Europe and the internet, making sure everyone knew about his pathetic little clit and my mighty cock, so they all knew he was a pussyboy and I was THE MAN. Then he'd let me lock away that useless excuse for cock, making sure he couldn't even wank like a boy, let alone ever top (as if), while I used his hole to make myself cum over and over - because he was the pussyboy and I was THE MAN. Now he takes these girly pills for me every day, washing them down with blast after blast of my piss and cum, and they've shrunk his little dicklet to less than an inch and ensured he never gets so much as a semi; a limp bottom with me, with others and alone, with my ten-and-a-half inches towering above him, a giant among tinies - because he is a pussyboy and I am THE MAN. I'd never remove my boywife's clit - I love it as a tiny little reminder to both of us that he's the pussyboy and I'm THE MAN. His balls on the other hand - if I could persuade him to let me, or better yet have him BEG me (I continued to pummel my abs into his useless atrophied little junk) to have his tiny balls removed, along with some of his now oversized little sack, just think how flat and smooth his panties would look with nothing but his 0.9" totally soft dicklet; just think how much the scar would remind him of what he'd given up for me; every faggasm I gave him thereafter with be just translucent seminal fluid with no actual sperm in it whatsoever, even with IVF he would never be able to fulfil a masculine reproductive role, my forever flaccid bottom ... fuck yeah, - I'd have ALL the inches, I'd have ALL the boners, I'd do ALL the breeding - I'd have ALL the world know, that he's my pussyboy and I'm THE MAN.
THE END
If any of you tiny-dicked little sluts, or hung studs like me, wanna get in touch and compare notes my email is hungtwinkstud@gmail.com
Did you know that little Art's tried his hand at some stories too?
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/boyclit/
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/my-six-twink-top-lodgers
Lemme know what you think.