Eli's Choice

Eli and Natalia were high-school sweethearts. They had married young, and neither had sexual experience outside their marriage. They did not have a very satisfying sex life in marriage. Sex was infrequent, and when it did happen, it was over far too soon. Natalia rarely desired it, and when she did, seemed to want it to end quickly. Eli became concerned that he was somehow inadequate in bed. He began to search on the internet for tips about lovemaking. 

One day, while searching, he discovered pornography. Natalia worked long shifts as a nurse at the local hospital. Eli worked mostly from home as an accountant, a job he was good at, so he had plenty of time to indulge this vice in private. At first, it was a banquet of beautiful women whose voluptuous breasts and inviting pussies beckoned for his attention. But these images always left him unsatisfied. 

A man’s desire, when he sees a beautiful woman, is to touch her and to penetrate her. But the screen was an impenetrable wall, and relegated him to the role of passive observer. The message of these women to him was: “Behold my beauty, but you are forbidden to touch.” He longed to make love with these beauties, but the closest the screen would allow was for him to masturbate himself while imagining making love with them… or to watch other men make love with them. Either way, the experience of pornography for him became more and more about dick - dick in his hand, dick on the screen - and how his own endowment compared to other men’s. The men in these videos tended to be well-endowed, as one would expect in pornography. Some of them had cocks that were truly enormous. The message of the women in these videos was different. It was: “Watch real men make love with us, we are out of your league.”

Eli had always felt insecure about his male endowment ever since being repeatedly humiliated in the locker room showers in middle and high school. He was a late bloomer, and many of the boys his age already had a thick penis emerging from a mound of pubic hair, while his genitals were still those of a young boy, naked, small, and exposed. They mocked him mercilessly for his “little baby” penis, whipping him with towels, threatening to penetrate him like a woman. Even after he went through puberty at last, this feeling of inferiority stayed with him.

He reassured himself that of course the men in porn would be larger than average. But when he viewed his own meager endowment after watching pornography, his body seemed boyish in comparison. Humiliating memories of the locker room rushed back to him every time he watched, and these intense memories heightened his arousal. He began to seek out videos of men with larger and larger cocks, and views that showcased their endowments. It started to take on the character for him of a quest for truth: he needed to learn the truth about men, and the truth about himself as a man. At least, that is what he told himself.

He studied their cocks, their length, their thickness, and continually compared them with his own. His favorite view became the view from behind and beneath, where he could witness a man’s large penis close-up stretching and penetrating a petite woman’s helpless pussy, forcing her open, giving her an intensity of pleasure that he could never give. He loved to watch  girls writhe and struggle under these men. He longed to hear the women’s moans of pleasure mixed with pain, which he could never elicit from them. These videos had a message too: “Your role is to watch women being taken by other men.” He absorbed this message unconsciously without realizing that he was training himself for a particular sexual role: the role of a cuckold.

In moments of lucidity, when he was spent from masturbating to the flickering screen, when the post-orgasm low left him feeling empty and alone, he would research statistics on penis size to try to understand the truth about himself and his failure with Natalia. He read article after article in magazines and medical journals. Most of them said that size doesn’t matter. It’s just not that important to women. While he may be on the low end of the endowment curve, he was still within the realm of normal. But sources varied on what was normal, and some seemed to suggest that his penis was in fact abnormally small. It was in these moments that he formulated an ill-fated plan: he would go somewhere where he could see a cross-section of men in an aroused state. The gym locker room wouldn’t work because the men there were not aroused. He had visited adult bookstores once or twice before meeting Natalia, and though he had never entered the video arcade section, which was dark and scary, he had an idea of what went on in them. He decided that he would go there and observe. Probably there would be some men there just like him, whose loneliness forced them to resort to such places. 

The first time he steeled up the courage to enter the arcade, he resolved to be strictly an observer. It was dark in the arcade and there were men lurking in the hallway, staring at him, lending an air of menace. Eli ducked into one of the booths to escape the pressure of their gaze, and locked the door. It was dark in the booth, but he felt safe now in his own private space. He put money into the machine and started playing a porn video, a familiar comfort. Soon he heard the sound of steps and rustling of clothes in the adjacent booth. A flash of white at the edge of his vision diverted his eye from the video. A man had come into the adjacent booth, undone his pants, had pulled his cock and balls out of his underwear, and presented them through the hole in the wall between the two booths.  Now there was a thick white cock reflecting the light of the video, mere inches from his face. 

For a minute or two, all he could do was stare in amazement. Then the man reached down, took hold of his penis between thumb and forefinger, and shook it up and down, like a man might do at a urinal. He seemed to expect something from Eli. This gesture of command from a man with a large penis had an unexpected effect on Eli. He felt his gut tighten with obligation. He felt like he was an underling who had been commanded to perform a duty. He felt like failure to perform this duty would amount to … insubordination. Eli knew that in order to complete his mission, he needed to see erect penises. But he had not considered that he might have to make them erect. 

In that moment, Eli resolved to touch the man’s penis, and if possible, make him erect. He was safe behind the locked door of the booth. The man could not reach him, or even see more than a vague impression of his face due to its darkness. Nurses like his wife Natalia had to touch men’s penises all the time, but it was clinical, not erotic. Natalia sometimes told him about her cases in the OR, where she was a scrub nurse, and casually mentioned how she would grasp a man’s penis to insert a catheter. 

Trembling, Eli reached out and gently took hold of the man’s penis. He felt its soft warmth, weighed its considerable heft, and squeezed it to appreciate its thickness. The penis was still soft, but even so, it was obviously much bigger than Eli’s. It felt so strange to feel another man’s penis in his hand, after so many years of feeling his own. It felt familiar in shape, but thrillingly unfamiliar in size. His hand took to it naturally, well practiced over years of masturbating his own much smaller penis. Soon, the man’s cock started to grow even bigger, both thicker and longer. Eli’s heart began to beat in his chest. This man was getting aroused. Eli was touching another man’s cock, a much bigger cock than his, and it was getting even bigger still! He didn’t know where it would end, or what would be expected of him if he continued. Overwhelmed with fear and excitement, he bolted out of the booth and drove home.

Once home he felt safe again, but incredibly aroused. The man’s cock was just like the cocks in pornography. Maybe it was just chance, and this man happened to have an unusually large one? That night he masturbated to pornography once again, seeking out images and videos of well-endowed men penetrating petite young women. His own penis felt diminutive in his hand compared to the one he had held only an hour ago. 

In the days that followed, Eli could not stop thinking about his gloryhole encounter. “Are most men that big? How big would he have gotten, if I had stayed to get him fully erect? What did he expect from me? What would have happened if I had stroked him to completion?” All these questions stirred endlessly in his head. Eventually he decided that there was only one way to answer them and quiet his mind: he would have to return and complete the experiment. Initially, he thought he would be able to complete his mission at the video arcade as a voyeur. Now he realized that he would need to be an active participant. But thanks to the structure of the gloryhole booths, he felt confident that he could do this safely and anonymously. He would be secure behind a locked door, anonymous in the dark booth. The men exposing themselves were the ones who were vulnerable, not him.  He would swallow his pride, lock himself in the booth with a bottle of lubricant, masturbate several men, and then he would have the information he needed. His mission would be complete.

He returned to the arcade that night, and masturbated seven men to completion. Some men climaxed soon after getting hard, but some required considerably more time and effort. Eli knew that by the time the man became erect, he had already gathered the information he needed. But once he had made a man aroused, he seemed to feel an obligation to finish the job. It seemed inconsiderate to arouse him and then just stop. One time he tried this, and the man refused to leave, shaking his cock angrily in the hole for him to continue. Eli realized that the man would not leave to make room for another until he brought him to climax. He also worried that the man would get angry and beat on the wall or try to force his way through the flimsy door. It seemed like he had no choice but to stroke each man to completion.

One man’s cock was smaller, like his. Eli found it hard to grasp and unsatisfying to stroke. The others were all bigger than him. Some of them dribbled cum down his wrist and into the sleeve of his shirt, and others spurted cum in his face and in his hair, or across his chest leaving a jagged wet line like a rapier strike on his shirt. None of them gave a knock of warning on the wall as they did in the videos. One man’s cock was enormous. It made Eli feel like he wasn’t even a man compared to him. Compared to that thick cock which he grasped and stroked rhythmically, staring at the swollen cock head hovering inches in front of his face, his own cock was much more like a … clitoris. Beneath the excitement of discovery, Eli began to feel anxious again. He was serving the role of a woman for these men. They were sexually superior to him, and every stroke of his hands on their thick shafts was a confirmation of his own inferiority. It felt like the middle school locker room, but much more real. Each time he left, fouled with semen and doubting his manhood, he vowed never to return. But his desire to understand the truth always overcame him, and return he did, again and again. 

One night, after hours of servicing the cocks of strangers, an enormous black cock came through the hole. He grasped it gently and with reverence, his practiced hands working skillfully to give it pleasure. He worked for 10 minutes, 15, 20, fondling the man’s heavy balls, and using a variety of caresses and strokes to try to make him cum. Eli’s arms began to get tired, but still the man’s enormous cock would not yield. He kneeled on his haunches to relieve pressure on his knees, and continued to work. The man’s cock was now precisely at eye-level. His enormous black cock head, shaped like a shark with a dangerous vertical slit for a maw, flooded his vision. It felt so wrong. This is a view that a straight man should never have. But it did not seem possible to disappoint the man on the other side of the wall, who might be as enormous and aggressive as his cock. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize Natalia naked, her small perfect breasts, her enticing pussy. But the image of the man’s broad, black, shark-like cock head remained in his vision even when he closed his eyes. It seemed to have a silent message for him: “Get used to this view. This is your new reality. You have stroked this black beast a thousand times, and as sure as Aladdin’s lamp, a genie will come out. It can turn a girl into a woman, a woman into a mother, or a man into a…”

Suddenly, he felt a hot splash of semen strike his forehead and graze his hair, landing somewhere behind him. In surprise, he opened his eyes, and another splash across the bridge of his nose landed in his left eye. Closing his eyes again, he felt another splash land across his lips. Some got in his mouth, which was half-opened in surprise. He turned his face to repel the attack, and another splash semen landed in his ear.  The rest ran down the sleeve of the hand that still held and stroked the man’s cock, and dribbled onto the floor. Eli knelt there, eyes closed, left eye burning, a copper taste in his mouth, the black assault weapon finally softening in his hands. He was drenched in the man’s semen. 

Finally released from what felt like a sudden attack, Eli squinted through his good eye and groped for a paper towel. Unnoticed by Eli, the man crouched down and examined him through the hole. “Hey, you’re pretty good at this,” the man said in a deep, gentle, silky voice.  To his surprise, a squeaky “Thank you” escaped Eli’s lips, a reflex of his good breeding. “Give me your number,” the man said matter-of-factly.  “No thanks,” Eli said weakly, “I’m only here to observe.” “You sure did a lot of observing tonight,” replied the man softly. He paused while Eli pulled off more paper towels and tried to clean the semen out of his ear. “You’re probably here because you’re not getting any at home, isn’t that right?” replied Jake. “How did you know that?” Thought Eli. “Oh, he probably saw my wedding ring,” Eli realized with chagrin. He had forgotten to take it off. “I’m a love counselor,” continued Jake. “I advise men how to please a woman. With skills like yours, I can teach you how to make her scream with pleasure every night. We don’t have to meet again. Let’s just talk.” “I’m sorry,” replied Eli meekly. In another moment, the man’s large black hand appeared through the hole bearing a white business card. It said only “Jake” in bold black type, and a phone number was listed beneath. “Text me sometime if you want to know more.” “Okay,” said Eli, and took the card. He waited several minutes after the man left to make sure he wouldn’t see him in the store or the parking lot when he skulked furtively back to his car.

Natalia was away working as a traveler at a hospital in a distant part of the state. When he arrived home, he showered, put on some music, and poured himself a glass of wine. He could not get the image of the man’s cock out of his mind. A little recklessly, perhaps - but he was feeling reckless - he decided to text him and see what kind of advice he had to give. He thought he would play the role of the submissive, since that’s what the man seemed to like. He was careful to use a number from an anonymous internet account. 

“Hi Jake. It’s Eli from the bookstore. Thanks so much for letting me service you tonight. It was such a privilege to get soaked in cum by your big cock. Do you have any advice to give me about satisfying my wife?”

He enjoyed playing the subservient role, knowing in his heart that it was just an act, that he was not like that in reality. He wanted to see what this man wanted and what he was all about. He wanted to seduce him by pretending he was something he wasn’t.

Hi Eli. I’m glad you contacted me. 

The rules

1. A woman will never be satisfied without good lovemaking. What else, genius? Thinks Eli

2. A woman wants a man to care for her and to support her, but she needs a man to make love with her. That’s probably why there are so many single mothers, Eli thinks

3. Women who do not get what they need in bed often turn to food. Is your wife fat? No, she isn’t fat. In a sudden rush of pride, he texts a recent photo of Natalia, beautiful in her sun dress. I’ve seen her before, is this where she works? 

4. Never wear your wedding ring when servicing another man - sends photo

“What’s her name?”  “Natalia,” Lawrence replied. Jake then texted an image back to him that made his heart leap into his throat: It was an image of Eli’s hand wrapped around Jake’s cock, both shiny with lube. The image revealed Eli’s wedding ring, and a bruise on the nail of his middle finger which he sustained from getting it caught in the car door. It was unmistakably Eli’s hand. He must have taken it through the hole while Eli had his eyes closed. Jake then texted a link to the hospital where Natalia worked as a nurse. He must have been to that hospital and recognized her from the picture Eli showed him. Terror seized him as his mind tried to comprehend the consequences of being exposed. Then another text came through: “Don’t worry, I don’t mean you no harm. Let’s just have a nice dinner together. If we don’t click, we go our separate ways and forget about the whole thing.”

Consumed by a sense of failure as a man, he longed for Natalia to know pleasure he could never give her, to be taken by a cock like Jake’s. At the same time, he longed for her to love him for who he was, not for something so superficial as the size of his penis. If she were given the choice: Eli’s love and support, or Jake’s male potency, which would she choose? He resolved to invite Jake to have dinner with them at a restaurant. He would introduce Jake as a new coworker, and pretend that he was merely showcasing his racial tolerance. He told himself he was testing her, but secretly, he wanted her to fail. 

As he pictured her with Jake, his heart raced with dread and a strange, twisted hope. Eli was no longer just a man consumed by insecurity—he was a facilitator, kneeling not just in the booth but in his own life, forever defined by the cocks that overshadowed him.

The room is dim, lit by a single flickering bulb overhead, casting jagged shadows across the worn carpet. The air is thick with a mix of musky sweat, Natalia’s floral perfume, and a faint metallic tang from Jake’s arousal. Heat radiates from the bodies pressed close, the humidity making Eli’s skin slick as he mounts Natalia in missionary position. Her legs spread beneath him, her skin soft but her face a mask of confusion, then disappointment, her eyes drifting to the ceiling. Eli’s heart sinks, his small cock—barely 4 inches, thin and unassuming—thrusting with desperate effort, but her bored sigh cuts deeper than any words. *She’s not feeling me,* he thinks, shame coiling in his gut. *I’m not enough.* He pumps harder, sweat beading on his brow, but it’s futile, like trying to fill an ocean with a teaspoon.

After minutes of his frantic thrusting, Natalia shoves him off, her voice sharp. “I can’t feel anything.” Eli stumbles back, chest heaving, his erection wilting under her gaze. She sits up, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, and demands, “Let me see it.” He hesitates, but her eyes pin him, and he pulls his hands away, exposing his diminutive penis. Natalia’s lips curl into a sneer. “Here’s the problem. You’ve got a tiny little dick.” She beckons Jake, who’s been watching from a chair, his large cock—8 inches, thick as a wrist—glistening with precum as he strokes it slowly. “Come look at this,” she says. Jake saunters over, his presence towering, the heat of his body like a furnace. Natalia orders Eli, “Hold your dick up against his. Let’s see the difference.”

Eli’s hands tremble as he grips his cock, stepping close to Jake. The contrast is brutal—Jake’s cock is a sculpted rod, veins bulging, head swollen, while Eli’s looks like a pale, shrunken afterthought. Natalia laughs, venom in her voice. “It’s more like a clit than a penis.” Jake nods, smirking. “Yeah, man, that’s no cock.” Eli’s face burns, his throat tight. *They’re right,* he thinks, *I’m nothing next to him.* The humiliation is a knife, but it twists with a strange thrill, his clit-like cock twitching despite the shame. Natalia’s words slice deeper: “You better learn to suck cock, Eli, because you’ll never satisfy a woman with that little thing.”

Before he can process, Natalia pushes him to his knees, the carpet rough against his skin. Jake steps closer, his cock inches from Eli’s face, radiating heat, the musky scent of sweat and arousal flooding Eli’s nose. He stares at the massive shaft, its size overwhelming, a symbol of everything he’s not. *If I do this,* he thinks, *it changes me. If he cums in my mouth, am I still me?* Hemlock’s warning echoes—sucking cock is a point of no return, a tattoo on his brain. Yet the pull is magnetic, the urge to submit, to be claimed, warring with his fear of losing himself.

Natalia presses against his back, her warm breasts soft against his spine, her thighs bracketing his hips. The embrace is intoxicating, a fleeting reassurance amidst the chaos. Her hair brushes his shoulder, her hot breath tickling his ear as she whispers, “Go on, suck it.” Her fingers slip forward, finding his tiny cock, squeezing it gently between thumb and forefinger, arousing him without pushing him over. The sensation is electric, grounding him in her touch. “It’ll be like drinking from a bottle when you were a baby,” she murmurs in a tone of voice women often use for small children. “Remember holding a warm bottle and sucking milk from the rubber nipple? Now you can drink daddy’s milk. You might have to work harder to get it out, though. One hand on the shaft, one cupping his balls, and suck the milk out of daddy’s cock.”

Eli’s hands move as if on their own, one wrapping around Jake’s thick shaft—his fingers barely meeting—the other cradling Jake’s heavy balls, warm and taut. He leans forward, lips parting, and takes the head into his mouth. At first, the reality of another man’s cock in his mouth set off alarms in his mind and a near panic sensation in his body. But the feeling was strongly counteracted by Natalia’s naked embrace from behind, her warmth, her fragrant hair brushing his face and shoulder, her voice cooing in his ear, her hand on his tiny erect cock. He closed his eyes, and it was not difficult to imagine that Jake’s cock was a warm bottle of milk as he gently sucked the nipple tip. This overall impression was strengthened by the peculiar bottle-shape of Jake’s cock, which had a relatively small head, which flared torpedo-like behind broad shoulders. Jake had started running his fingers through Eli’s hair and gently massaging his scalp. After a minute of gentle sucking, he began to feel more comfortable.  He felt like a baby in his mother’s warm embrace, sucking on the nipple of daddy’s bottle-like cock

Then, things started to change. Jake’s hands tightened in his hair, forcing his head down and Jake’s cock deeper into his mouth. He was no longer gently sucking on the nipple of a bottle - the bottle was trying to force its way into his mouth. Then Natalia, whose free hand was massaging his tiny balls from behind, began to tighten her grip at the base of his scrotum, trapping his balls in her fingers, and pulling gently but firmly towards the floor, sending a clear message that any move to escape would be met by painful resistance. They had him trapped now. Jake was forcing the most intimate part of himself into him, into his mouth, into his head, into his brain. It felt like being force fed a thick salami, filling him to the point where he could barely breathe. Suddenly he felt a sharp slap on his face, a little too hard to be entirely playful, and heard Jake’s commanding voice hiss, “No teeth, bitch!” His first instinct was to feel apologetic, like he had done something wrong, and if he had been able to speak, he would have apologized. His initial timid exploration had suddenly turned into submission. He was submitting to Jake’s cock, while Natalia literally “had him by the balls.” He strained his jaws open as wide as he could and tried to cover his teeth with his lips and tongue, terrified of another slap, or worse. He had lost control now, and had no choice but to strain his mouth open to accept Jake’s cock thrusting rhythmically in and out of his mouth, using his face like a sex doll.

Eli chokes, saliva dripping down his chin, gagging as the cock hits the back of his throat. Tears prick his eyes, his nose burning with each thrust. Natalia’s lips are at his ear again, whispering, “Shhh, it’s okay.” Her voice is a lifeline, soothing even as he struggles, her hands keeping him pinned and on edge. The confusion is dizzying—Jake’s dominance is claiming him, reducing him to an object, yet Natalia’s touch and whispers are tender, almost loving. He’s torn between degradation and comfort, his body aching with arousal even as his gag reflex protests.

Jake’s hands tighten in Eli’s hair, his thrusts quicken, and his breathing becomes heavy. Natalia senses it. Her whispers turn sharp, commanding. “Once daddy cums in your mouth, you won’t be a man anymore. Are you ready to give it all up, to live like a woman with a tiny little clit for the rest of your life?” Eli’s mind reels—but her words ignite something primal. “I want you to climax with him,” she says. “It’ll be your first orgasm as a woman.” Her fingers speed up, stroking his cock with precision, pushing him toward the edge, while her grip around his balls tightens, immobilizing him. Jake groans, his cock pulsing, and suddenly hot, thick cum floods Eli’s mouth. The taste is overwhelming—salty, musky, bitter—filling his throat. He gags, coughing, cum spilling from his lips and out his nose, the scent searing his senses. At the same moment, Natalia’s stroking tips him over, and Eli cums, a weak spurt from his tiny cock, his body shuddering in her grip. The dual sensations—Jake’s cum choking him, his own orgasm—blur into an overwhelming release.

Jake pulls out, and a final spurt from his engorged cock hits Eli’s face, landing in his right eye. It stings, his vision blurring, tears mixing with cum and saliva. He’s a mess, one eye closed, gasping, the musky odor of Jake’s seed clinging to his skin. “You did a good job for Daddy,” Natalia says, releasing Eli’s genitals like a tiny strangled bird. “You’re a woman now… but your boy-pussy’s still a virgin.” She steps back, her warmth gone, and grabs her phone. “Let’s commemorate this momentous event,” she says, snapping photos of Eli’s cum-streaked face next to Jake’s still-hard cock, both glistening with spit and semen. Eli barely registers it, his head spinning, the taste of Jake’s cum in his mouth and nostrils, his body trembling with shame, arousal, and a haunting question: *What have I become?*

That night, in their dimly lit bedroom, Eli slipped into Natalia’s silky black panties, the lace biting into his narrow hips, and her padded bra, its empty cups sagging against his chest, a humiliating emblem of his role. Kneeling on the king-size bed, the satin sheets cool against his skin, he faced Natalia, her eyes wide with nervous anticipation, and Jake, his muscular frame towering, cock already hardening. Eli’s hands shook as he grasped Jake’s thick, glistening shaft, its head slick with pre-cum, veins throbbing under his touch. “Slow… don’t hurt her,” he pleaded, voice a shaky whisper, fingers gripping just below the glans to control its entry, guiding it to Natalia’s quivering, pink folds. He held it steady, ensuring her tight pussy stretched slowly, her gasps sharp as she adjusted to its size. Natalia’s moans filled the room, her hips arching, nails digging into the sheets, while Jake’s grunts built a primal rhythm that seared Eli’s soul. The intensity—her flushed skin, sweat beading on her brow, Jake’s relentless thrusts—overwhelmed him, his vision swimming, chest tightening. “I… can’t…” he mumbled, collapsing, fainting in a heap, the lace panties twisting around his thighs. Waking to their sweat-slick, entwined bodies, Natalia’s thighs sticky with their mingled fluids, Eli’s heart sank. “I’ll… clean you,” he stammered, hands trembling as he wiped her skin with a damp cloth, shame flooding him like a tidal wave as their sexual bond dissolved. Their union conceived Jamal, and Eli, banished to a separate bedroom, became his devoted caregiver, while Natalia and Jake forged a passionate, unbreakable connection, their laughter and intimacy echoing through the house.

Now, with Natalia absent for two weeks, Eli’s loneliness was a hollow ache, his days filled with caring for four-year-old Jamal. Pushing the stroller through the playground’s golden haze, the crunch of gravel underfoot, he met Sarah, a nurse with eyes soft as twilight, her gentle smile a balm. Opening up, his voice quavered with vulnerability. “I’m not Jamal’s real dad… Jake is,” he confessed, pride in his son clashing with shame, his fingers clutching the stroller’s handle. Fumbling his phone to show a picture of Jamal, he swiped too far, a close-up flashing—Jake’s erect, veined cock, its dark, swollen head gleaming under harsh light. “Oh God!” Eli gasped, face aflame, cheeks burning as if slapped, his fingers clumsy, dropping the phone onto the grass. Sarah’s eyes widened, her breath catching, a flush creeping up her neck. “I’m so sorry!” he choked, snatching it up, scrolling in panic, only to reveal another image—himself in Natalia’s pink lace panties, his tiny, erect penis, thin as a boy’s finger, poking pitifully through the leg, the bra’s straps digging into his shoulders. “No, no…” he stammered, hands shaking, sweat beading on his brow, Sarah’s stunned silence slicing his gut like a blade. “I… I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, voice breaking, eyes darting to hers, pleading for mercy. During Jamal’s diaper change, sprawled on a park blanket, his young, erect penis, already thicker and longer than Eli’s, drew Sarah’s gaze, her lips parting in a silent gasp. “He’s… like his dad,” Eli muttered, cheeks scorching, humiliation pooling like acid, his hands fumbling with the diaper tabs. Desperate for her warmth, he invited her to dinner, voice trembling. “You’d like Jake,” he said, hope a fragile ember flickering against a rising tide of dread, his heart pounding with the risk of repeating his past.

At home, Jake lounged in a plush burgundy robe, its hem parting to reveal a chiseled chest, a glinting gold chain catching the light, his presence a storm of raw charisma that filled the dining room. Sarah, in a tight emerald dress hugging her curves, fidgeted, her nervous smile betraying intrigue sparked by that forbidden photo, her fingers twisting a napkin. “Jake, meet Sarah,” Eli introduced, voice quavering, his loneliness a pulsing ache as he orchestrated this reckless echo of introducing Jake to Natalia. Dinner unfolded with strained laughter, Sarah’s charm—a soft laugh, a brush of her chestnut hair—easing the tension, her eyes flicking to Jake, then away, a flush on her cheeks. When she agreed to stay for a movie, suspense coiled tighter in Eli’s chest, his hands clenching under the table. In the kitchen, washing dishes, suds dripping onto the counter, his hands shook. “The house feels empty without Natalia,” he said, voice cracking, masking his ritual with Jake behind a lie of a “foot massage.” Sarah, drying plates, sensed his turmoil, her fingers brushing his wrist, warm and steady. “You seem uneasy,” she said, her empathy a flicker of salvation, her eyes searching his. “Just… Jake’s stress,” Eli stammered, dread tightening his chest like a vice, his pulse hammering at the deception.

In the bedroom, the door ajar like a silent betrayal, Eli knelt on the hardwood floor, Natalia’s black lace panties clinging to his hips, riding up as he shifted, her bra’s empty cups swaying as he leaned forward. His lips enveloped Jake’s thick, slick cock, its scalding heat filling his mouth, veins pulsing against his tongue as he sucked, slow and deliberate, saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. Shame scalded him, the playground’s exposures—Jake’s cock, his own pathetic erection, Jamal’s superiority—raw wounds, his jaw aching as Jake’s large hand gripped his hair, guiding him in long, unyielding strokes, the wet sounds echoing in the quiet room. Sarah’s call pierced the haze—“Are you boys okay in there?”—and Eli’s strained, “Yes, almost done!” barely concealed his panic, heart hammering as the lie teetered on collapse, his throat tightening with fear of discovery. Unaware, Sarah crept to the door, her breath catching as she mistook Eli’s panty-clad bottom, heaving rhythmically, for Natalia’s, the lace stretched taut across his skin. Then, her eyes widened, a stifled gasp escaping as she saw his bra, the straps digging into his skinny shoulders, and Jake’s muscular frame, propped on his elbows, his bored smirk a chilling throne of dominance, his cock glistening in Eli’s mouth. *He’s… sucking Jake?* she thought, her pulse racing, lust from that playground photo surging beneath a veil of concern, her thighs clenching involuntarily.

Jake, catching her gaze, grinned, his voice a velvet blade slicing the air. “Don’t be shy, Sarah. This is our routine. Come watch—or help. Eli’s tired, and I’m not close. Hate to use his other holes.” Eli’s world spun, Jake’s cock still hot in his mouth, his body wincing at the rape threat, a visceral stab of fear from past nights when Jake had taken his ass, rough and unyielding. “Jake, no…” he mumbled, voice muffled, tears burning as Sarah’s presence sank in, his lingerie-clad submission laid bare, shame and terror exploding like wildfire, his hands clutching Jake’s thighs, nails digging in. “Jake, stop. I’ll help—for Eli,” Sarah declared, her voice trembling, stepping forward, her claimed sacrifice a thin mask for the lust ignited by that photo, her body already craving Jake’s power, her breath quickening, nipples hardening under her dress.

Sarah knelt beside Eli, her breath hot as her lips strained over Jake’s shaft, slick with Eli’s saliva and Jake’s pre-cum, gagging as she took the first inches, her tongue faltering against its impossible girth, her lips stretching painfully. “Ouch, no teeth!” Jake snapped, his hand hovering near her head, then growled, “If you can’t make me cum, I’m fucking Eli like the sissy bitch he is.” Eli’s heart lurched, and he crawled closer, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, the panties shifting, riding up further. “Sarah, stop!” he cried, voice breaking, his hands clutching the floor, jealousy and terror twisting like a blade in his chest. “It took me months to learn… your mouth’s too small for him!” Humiliation choked him, her attempt to take his place a searing betrayal, his “sissy” role exposed under Jake’s cruel, glinting gaze. Sarah, gasping, lips glistening, pressed on, gagging harder, her eyes watering, her tongue swirling desperately, driven by a mix of concern and a buried desire she refused to name, her hands gripping Jake’s thighs, her own arousal soaking her panties.

Her mouth failing, Sarah stood, her hands shaking as she peeled off her emerald dress, revealing soaked, lace panties that clung to her, outlining her swollen folds, betraying her arousal. “Take me instead,” she said, her voice firm but quivering, climbing onto the bed, her body arching, hips raised, her dripping pussy an offering as she knelt on all fours, the sheets crumpling beneath her. *I’m saving Eli,* she told herself, ignoring the heat pulsing through her, the craving for Jake’s cock that had haunted her since the playground, her breath hitching as she glanced back at him. “Sarah, no!” Eli choked, his voice a broken sob, tears flooding as he scrambled back, the panties twisting around his hips, shame and jealousy drowning him as she surrendered to Jake. Jake gripped her hips, his smirk cutting like glass, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Watch how it’s done, sissy,” he said, his cock poised at her entrance, its swollen, glistening head nudging her slick folds, parting them slowly as Sarah moaned, her body trembling. “Why…” Eli whispered, his voice a shattered plea, collapsing in Natalia’s lingerie, his eyes locked on Sarah’s quivering form, her gasps piercing his heart as Jake thrust deep, his thick shaft stretching her, his dominance and her lust shattering Eli’s fragile hope for connection, leaving him a trembling, defeated shell, the lace a cruel cage around his broken spirit.

---

In the dimly lit bedroom, the air thick with tension and the musk of arousal, Sarah braced herself on all fours, her body trembling as Jake’s massive, glistening cock pressed against her dripping folds. Her emerald dress lay discarded, her soaked lace panties clinging to her thighs, betraying the lust she’d masked as sacrifice. “Go slow…” she gasped, her voice a quivering plea, her pussy straining to accommodate his girth, the stretch a burning ache that mingled with pleasure. Jake grunted, his hands gripping her hips, his dark, veined shaft nudging deeper, each inch a struggle that left her breathless, her nails digging into the crumpled satin sheets.

Eli, kneeling at the edge of the bed in Natalia’s black lace panties and bra, the straps biting into his shoulders, watched with a storm of shame and jealousy, his heart pounding. Jake’s earlier threat—“I’ll fuck Eli like the sissy bitch he is”—still echoed, a visceral fear that had driven Sarah’s intervention. Now, Jake glanced at him, his smirk cutting. “Help her, Eli. She’s struggling.” Eli’s hands shook as he uncapped a bottle of lube, the cool gel glistening on his fingers. “I… I’ll try,” he stammered, voice breaking, shame scalding him as he reached for Jake’s cock, its heat searing his palm. He coated it generously, the slickness dripping down the shaft, his fingers trembling as they traced its throbbing veins, memories of that night five years ago—guiding this same cock into Natalia—flooding back. “It’ll… help,” he whispered, his other hand moving to Sarah’s perineum, massaging the taut skin with gentle, circular strokes, feeling her body quiver under his touch. “Relax, Sarah,” he murmured, his voice a mix of care and despair, her soft moans piercing him as her pussy slowly stretched, Jake’s cock sinking deeper, inch by agonizing inch.

Sarah’s body shuddered, the fuck of her life unfolding in a haze of pleasure and pain. Jake’s thrusts grew rhythmic, his thick shaft stretching her beyond anything she’d known, her walls clenching around him, her moans escalating into cries. “Oh God… Jake…” she gasped, her hips bucking, sweat beading on her flushed skin, her climax building like a tidal wave. Eli watched, his fingers still massaging, shame and arousal twisting in his gut, his tiny erection straining against the panties, a pathetic contrast to Jake’s dominance. Jake grunted, his pace quickening, and with a final, deep thrust, he flooded Sarah’s pussy, his hot cum spilling into her, dripping down her thighs as she collapsed, panting, her body trembling with aftershocks.

“I… I’m not on the pill,” Sarah whispered, voice trembling as reality crashed in, her eyes wide with worry. “I could get pregnant…” Jake, still catching his breath, smirked, his robe half-open, revealing his glistening cock. “The solution’s right there, Sarah,” he said, nodding to Eli, kneeling at the bed’s edge, his face a mask of humiliation. “Eli can clean you.” Sarah’s eyes widened, mortified, her hands clutching the sheets. “No… Eli, you don’t have to… I was trying to protect you,” she stammered, her voice cracking, guilt and exhaustion warring in her chest. Eli, his cheeks burning, shook his head, voice soft but resolute. “It’s okay, Sarah. It’s a duty I’m familiar with… and it would be a pleasure to do this for you.” His words were a broken whisper, shame and submission etched into every syllable, his hands trembling as he moved closer.

Sarah, too exhausted to resist, capitulated with a shaky nod, her body slumping back. Eli leaned in, his lips brushing her inner thighs, the tangy scent of Jake’s cum mingling with her arousal. His tongue darted out, lapping at her swollen folds, the taste bitter and warm, his hands spreading her gently as he cleaned her, each lick a humiliating act of devotion. Sarah moaned softly, her body betraying her, pleasure mingling with guilt as Eli’s tongue worked, his lace-clad form a stark contrast to the raw intensity of the moment. Unseen, Jake slipped his phone from the robe’s pocket, snapping photos—Eli’s panty-clad ass raised, his face buried between Sarah’s thighs, the bra straps digging into his shoulders, a perfect tableau of submission.

Days later, Natalia returned, her presence a storm as she strode into the living room, her eyes flashing with fury. Jake lounged on the couch, phone in hand, a smirk playing on his lips. Natalia snatched it, scrolling through the photos, her face darkening. “What the fuck is this?” she hissed, turning to Eli, who stood frozen, his heart sinking. “You fucked her with that little dick of yours, didn’t you? While dressed in my lingerie?” Her voice was venom, her finger jabbing at his chest, the images of him cleaning Sarah searing her with betrayal. Eli stammered, sweat beading on his brow, his voice a trembling mess. “N-no, Natalia, I… I didn’t… I was helping Sarah… Jake…” His words faltered, torn between fear of Natalia’s wrath and the consequences of betraying Jake. He chose to protect Jake, swallowing hard. “I… I just cleaned her… after…” he mumbled, eyes downcast, shame choking him.

Jake’s smirk widened, his betrayal swift. “He wanted it, Natalia. Begged to help her,” he lied, voice smooth, his hand resting casually on his thigh, unrepentant. Natalia’s fury turned cold, her eyes narrowing. “Then he needs to be punished,” she spat, her gaze locking on Eli. “Jake, fuck him. Right now. Turn that precious little button into a gaping boy-pussy. Once he’s ruined, he’ll never get that little dick up for a woman again.” Eli’s breath caught, terror flooding him, his hands clenching. “Natalia, please… I’ve never…” he begged, voice cracking, but her glare silenced him, her command absolute.

Eli stripped, trembling, the lingerie falling to the floor as he climbed onto the bed on all fours, his privates exposed, the cool air a stark contrast to his burning shame. Jake loomed behind him, shedding his robe, his cock already hardening, its heat radiating as it brushed Eli’s buttocks, sending a shiver through him. Jake squirted lube, the cold gel dripping onto Eli’s tight anus, his fingers spreading it, the slickness a cruel prelude. “Relax, sissy,” Jake growled, his voice low, the soft head of his cock pressing against Eli’s clenched hole, its warmth a deceptive comfort. Jake pushed gently at first, a reassuring pressure, but Eli’s sphincter resisted, his body rigid with fear. “Please… go slow…” Eli whispered, voice trembling, his hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white.

The pressure intensified, Jake’s girthy cock pressing harder, the tip breaching Eli’s hole with a searing burn. “Fuck… he’s tight,” Jake grunted, working it back and forth, stretching him slowly, the pain a white-hot lance that made Eli cry out, tears streaming. “Stop… please…” he begged, voice raw, his body shaking, the stretch unbearable. Natalia, watching from the bedside, her arms crossed, relented with a sigh, handing him a small bottle of amyl nitrate. “Inhale,” she ordered, her voice sharp. Eli obeyed, the sharp scent hitting him, his head spinning, his sphincter relaxing as a dizzy haze took over. “It… it’s too much…” he mumbled, blacking out briefly, his body slumping.

He came to on his back, legs draped over Jake’s broad shoulders, Jake’s cock already buried deep, pumping rhythmically. Jake’s hand grasped Eli’s tiny genitals, his palm engulfing them entirely, using them as a handle to rock Eli’s body back and forth, each thrust a brutal invasion. Eli felt stretched beyond capacity, his thin belly bulging with each deep plunge, the outline of Jake’s cock visible, a grotesque reminder of his conquest. “You’re mine now,” Jake growled, his pubic hair grinding against Eli’s perineum, his heavy balls slapping rhythmically against Eli’s backside, the wet sounds filling the room. The ordeal stretched for twenty minutes, Jake’s thrusts unrelenting, Eli’s body a vessel for his dominance. Natalia checked in, her voice taunting. “How’s my sissy doing? Ready to be a real faggot yet?” Eli whimpered, trying to block it out, but the sensations—the searing stretch, the rhythmic slaps, Jake’s tight grip—overwhelmed him, his mind fracturing under the assault.

As Jake neared climax, Natalia leaned in, her voice a cruel whisper. “Once Jake cums deep inside you, you’ll stop being a man. From this moment, you’re a sissy faggot cuckold, only good for cleaning cum with your tongue.” Eli sobbed, his body rocking helplessly, Jake’s thrusts growing erratic. With a guttural grunt, Jake flooded Eli’s guts, his hot cum spilling deep, the warmth a final mark of his domination. Eli collapsed, trembling, his hole gaping, his spirit shattered, the weight of Natalia’s words and Jake’s conquest a permanent scar.

A few days later, the playground buzzed with the hum of children’s laughter, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the gravel. Eli pushed Jamal’s stroller, his steps faltering, body hunched in pain, each movement a sharp reminder of Jake’s brutal punishment. His face, pale and drawn, bore the weight of a shattered spirit, his eyes darting nervously as if expecting judgment from the world around him. Sarah, seated on a nearby bench, her chestnut hair catching the golden light, spotted him. Her heart clenched at his obvious struggle, her nurse’s instinct surging as she rose, her sandals crunching softly as she approached. “Eli… are you okay?” she asked, her voice a gentle caress, her eyes soft with concern, though the memory of their last encounter—his lips on her cum-slick pussy, Jake’s photos—lingered like a shadow.

Eli flinched, his hands tightening on the stroller, his voice a reluctant whisper. “I… I’m not,” he admitted, eyes downcast, shame etching lines into his face. Sarah knelt beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her touch warm and steady. “What happened?” she urged, her tone coaxing, her gaze searching his. Slowly, haltingly, Eli unraveled his story, each revelation a jagged shard. “Jake… he took pictures that night… of me… with you,” he mumbled, cheeks burning, his fingers twisting together. “Natalia saw them when she got back. She was furious… thought I fucked you in her lingerie.” His voice cracked, tears brimming. “I tried to explain… to protect Jake… and you… because if she knew he fucked you, it’d be worse.” Sarah’s breath hitched, guilt twisting her gut, her own lust for Jake a secret she still buried.

Eli’s voice dropped lower, trembling. “She… she punished me. Made Jake… fuck me. Anally.” He shuddered, his body curling inward, pain flashing across his features. “I’d never… he was so rough… stretched me open… I can still feel it. Natalia said… once he came in me, I’d stop being a man. A sissy faggot cuckold… only good for cleaning cum.” His tears spilled, his voice a broken sob. “She’s right. I can’t… I don’t think I’ll ever make love to a woman again.” Sarah’s heart ached, her hands cupping his face, her thumbs brushing away his tears. “Eli, no… that doesn’t define you. You’re still a man, still you,” she said, her voice firm, her eyes blazing with conviction. But Eli shook his head, his gaze hollow, trapped in Natalia’s cruel prophecy, his body trembling with the weight of his altered reality.

Determined to prove him wrong, Sarah invited him over a few days later, her voice casual over the phone. “I need help with some furniture… can you come by?” she asked, her apartment a cozy haven, the scent of lavender candles lingering. Eli, physically recovering but psychologically scarred, arrived, his steps hesitant, his street clothes loose, hiding the bra and panties Natalia forced him to wear. Sarah, in a soft silk blouse and skirt, her hair loose, smiled warmly, her intent clear as she drew him inside. “You’ve been through so much,” she murmured, her hand brushing his, her touch electric. She leaned in, lips grazing his neck, her breath warm, seductive. Eli stiffened, unresponsive at first, his body rigid with fear, but her gentle kisses sparked a flicker of arousal, his tiny erection stirring, a glimmer of hope lighting his haunted eyes.

Sarah undressed him slowly, peeling off his shirt and jeans, revealing Natalia’s black lace bra and panties, the straps digging into his pale shoulders, the panties stretched taut over his hips. “Oh, Eli…” she whispered, her fingers unhooking the bra, sliding the panties down, his little erection springing free, stiff but shockingly small, barely three inches, thin as a child’s finger. Sarah’s breath caught, the playground photo flashing in her mind, but seeing it in person—its delicate, almost infantile size—stunned her. Struggling for words, she forced a smile. “This… this should be a lot easier than with Jake,” she said, her voice faltering, the unintended insult landing like a blow. Eli’s face fell, shame flooding him, his hands twitching to cover himself.

Sarah knelt, her lips enveloping his tiny shaft, her tongue swirling, but the sensation was jarring—too small, too soft, like sucking a toddler’s penis. She pulled back, masking her unease, and stood, shedding her skirt and panties, her pussy glistening with anticipation. “Here… take me,” she offered, lying back on the couch, legs spread, her folds inviting. Eli positioned himself, hips pushing against her, his tiny erection nudging her entrance—or so he thought. Sarah waited, feeling only his hips, her brow furrowing. “Is it in yet?” she blurted, the words slipping out, her voice tinged with confusion. Eli froze, discouragement crashing over him, his erection softening, shame scalding his cheeks. “I… I thought…” he mumbled, voice cracking.

Sarah’s eyes widened, realizing her mistake. “Oh no, you’re fine! It’s just… after Jake, it was hard to tell,” she rushed, her words a second unintended blow, deepening his humiliation, his face crumpling. Desperate to salvage the moment, she turned, offering her ass, her voice a hopeful whisper. “I’ve never had anal sex before… it’ll be like taking my virginity.” She knelt on the couch, cheeks spread, her tight anus a pale pink ring. Eli, trembling, applied lube, his fingers slick, then positioned himself, his tiny erection pressing against her hole, slipping inside with a faint pop, his premature ejaculation spilling almost instantly, the warm slickness coating her entrance.

“That’s right, lube it up real good with your finger like that,” Sarah murmured, her voice encouraging, thinking his touch was preparation. But Eli’s voice, a broken whisper, cut through. “I… I’m already inside… that was…” His words trailed off, shame choking him, his tiny cock already softening, the lube his cum, the moment a final, crushing defeat. Sarah’s breath caught, realization dawning, her heart sinking as she turned to him, his face a mask of despair, his spirit shattered by the weight of his perceived failure.

At the hospital, the sterile hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Sarah shuffled through the corridor, her nurse’s scrubs slightly wrinkled, her chestnut hair pulled back in a messy bun. Fatigue etched faint lines around her eyes, her shoulders slumped, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. Her friend Jennifer, another nurse with sharp features and a curious glint in her gaze, noticed her demeanor during a break in the bustling staff room, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. “Sarah, you okay? You look… put out,” Jennifer asked, her voice a mix of concern and intrigue, stirring her coffee, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. Sarah forced a half-smile, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her scrub top, her mind drifting to the humiliating encounter with Eli. “I… I’m fine,” she said, then let out a bitter laugh, her tone joking but edged with frustration. “Just… the other night, I offered a pity fuck to this guy, and it was a huge disappointment.” Her cheeks flushed slightly, the memory of Eli’s tiny, childlike penis and their failed intimacy souring her mood, her body tensing at the recollection.

Jennifer’s brow arched, her curiosity piqued, leaning closer over the table, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh? What happened? Was he… you know, bad in bed?” Sarah sighed, her fingers tapping nervously, unaware that Jennifer was Natalia—Eli’s wife, a name she’d never connected in her brief, chaotic encounters with Eli and Jake. “It was… pathetic,” Sarah admitted, her voice low, a mix of pity and exasperation. “He was so small… like, barely there. I tried everything—oral, vaginal, even anal—but I couldn’t even tell if he was inside me. It was over in seconds… premature, you know?” Her laugh was hollow, her hands gesturing dismissively, but her words landed like a bomb in Natalia’s ears. Natalia’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her mug, the pieces clicking into place—Eli’s tiny penis, the lingerie, the playground stories Sarah had unknowingly shared. “What… what was his name?” Natalia asked, her voice tight, a storm brewing behind her calm facade. “Eli,” Sarah said, oblivious, shrugging. “Poor guy… he’s been through a lot.”

Natalia’s face darkened, her jaw clenching, fury igniting like wildfire as she excused herself, her coffee abandoned, the mug clattering softly against the table. That evening, she stormed into their home, the door slamming behind her, the sound echoing through the quiet house. Eli, sitting on the couch with Jamal asleep in his lap, flinched, his heart sinking at the rage in her eyes, her heels clicking like a death knell on the hardwood floor. “How dare you betray me like this?” Natalia hissed, her voice venomous, her finger jabbing at his chest, her eyes blazing with betrayal. “I told you, you have no right to be with a woman!” Eli’s face crumpled, his body shrinking under her gaze, his hands clutching Jamal protectively, shame flooding him like a tidal wave. “Natalia, please… I didn’t mean to…” he stammered, voice trembling, tears brimming as he set Jamal down in his crib, his hands shaking. “I… I couldn’t even get hard for her… I swear…”

Natalia’s laugh was cold, cutting, her arms crossing as she leaned closer, her voice a razor’s edge. “Don’t lie to me, Eli. I heard everything—how you got that pathetic little thing inside her, even if it was just for a second. You fucked her, didn’t you? After everything I said!” Eli groveled, dropping to his knees, his hands clasped, his voice a broken plea. “No, Natalia, it wasn’t like that… I… she was trying to help me… I couldn’t… I failed…” His sobs wracked his body, the memory of Sarah’s pitying attempts—her lips on his tiny erection, the humiliating anal attempt, his premature ejaculation—burning like acid, his failure a weight he couldn’t escape. But Natalia’s fury was unyielding, her knowledge of Sarah’s revelations a damning truth, her lips curling in disgust at his excuses.

She turned to Jake, who lounged in the armchair, his robe parted, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the scene unfold, his presence a storm of dominance. “He needs to be stopped,” Natalia said, her voice cold, her eyes locking with Jake’s. “He can’t keep betraying us like this.” Jake nodded, his smirk widening, his hand resting casually on his thigh, the memory of fucking Eli still fresh, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Surgical castration,” he suggested, voice smooth, his tone almost casual. “That way, he can live as a woman—suits him better. And that little thing won’t cause trouble again. Think of it like… removing an ugly growth.” Natalia’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, her gaze returning to Eli, who knelt, trembling, his face pale, his breath hitching in terror. “Yes,” she agreed, her voice a chilling whisper. “It’s perfect.”

Eli’s heart shattered, his body crumpling further, his hands clutching at the floor, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. “Natalia… please… don’t…” he begged, voice raw, his mind reeling with the weight of their decision, the finality of it crushing him. But Natalia’s resolve was iron, her voice cutting through his pleas. “You’ve proven you can’t be trusted, Eli. This is for your own good.” Jake rose, towering over him, his presence suffocating, his hand gripping Eli’s shoulder, a silent command. “It’s settled,” he said, his voice a low growl, his smirk a promise of further domination. Eli, crushed, his spirit broken, nodded weakly, accepting his fate, the weight of his shame and submission a permanent scar, his identity as a man stripped away in the face of their cruel judgment, his body trembling as he surrendered to the inevitable.

In the sterile chill of the hospital operating room, the scent of antiseptic sharp in the air, Sarah adjusted her surgical cap, her chestnut hair tucked neatly beneath it, her hands steady as she prepared for a gender-affirming surgery. The procedure was a full transition—removal of the testicles, penis, and creation of a vagina—but the patient, listed only as “R. Smith,” believed it was just a testicle removal. Eli, lying on the operating table, his thin frame draped in a pale blue gown, clutched the edges of the fabric, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and resignation. As the anesthesiologist administered the sedative, Eli’s voice trembled, a whisper meant to reassure himself. “It’s just… the balls. I’ll still have my penis… I can get implants, take testosterone… maybe someday…” His words faded, his eyelids fluttering as the anesthesia pulled him under, his body going limp, the hospital lights blurring into darkness.

Sarah, positioning the surgical tray, glanced at the patient’s chart, then froze, her breath catching as she recognized the name—Eli. Her mind flashed to the playground, his broken confessions, the humiliating pity fuck, the photos Jake took, Natalia’s fury, and Eli’s anal punishment that had left him shattered. Her hands hesitated, trembling slightly as she lifted the gown, revealing his diminutive genitals, the tiny, three-inch penis and small testicles a stark contrast to the sterile green drape she unfolded. *He doesn’t know…* she thought, her heart clenching with guilt, but she steeled herself, her nurse’s resolve kicking in. *These… they’ve only been a burden to him. He’ll be happier as a woman… free from this shame.* She dipped a sponge in betadine, the orange-brown liquid cold as she cleaned his genitals, her touch clinical but gentle, swabbing the delicate skin, his tiny shaft barely registering under her fingers. She set up the surgical field, draping the sterile cloth, her movements precise despite the storm in her chest.

The surgeon, Dr. Ellis, a gruff man with a steady hand, entered, glancing at the field. “This one’ll be quick,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he eyed Eli’s small genitals. “We’ll have time for coffee before the next case.” Sarah nodded, her throat tight, assisting as the surgeon began the orchiectomy, his scalpel slicing with precision, removing Eli’s testicles, the small orbs extracted swiftly, blood wiped away with gauze. Then, without pause, he moved to the penectomy, severing Eli’s tiny penis at the base, the delicate tissue yielding easily, a faint squelch as it was detached, placed in a sterile tray. Sarah asked Dr. Ellis, why didn’t you invert the penis to use as a vaginal canal. Dr. Ellis gave her a quizzical look. “Can’t you see how small it is? That could never serve as a vagina. You could barely get a finger into it. It’s called a micropenis.” Sarah’s hands moved on autopilot, passing instruments, her mind racing—*He didn’t consent to this… but it’s for the best… isn’t it?* The vaginoplasty followed, the surgeon crafting a vaginal canal from the remaining tissue, each suture a step toward Eli’s new reality, the procedure swift, efficient, the room silent save for the rhythmic beep of the monitor.

Once the procedure was complete, Dr. Ellis left the operating room, and Sarah stayed to help clean up. While collecting the medical waste, Eli’s tiny severed penis rolled off the sterile tray and onto the floor like a baby carrot off a toddler’s tray. Sarah picked it up matter of factly and pretended to dispose of it in the medical waste container, but instead she palmed the precious little thing as a souvenir of Eli’s shattered manhood. She would take it home and keep it in a clear jar of formaldehyde. “I will give it to Eli once he has adjusted to his new life,” she thought. “It will help remind him who he is, or rather who he was, and why it was best for him to live as a woman.”

In the recovery room, Eli stirred, the haze of anesthesia lifting, a dull ache spreading through his groin, his body heavy under the thin hospital blanket. The surgeon entered, clipboard in hand, his voice brisk. “Surgery was a success, Eli. Once you heal in a few weeks, you’ll start your new life as a woman.” Eli’s eyes widened, confusion crashing over him, his hands fumbling under the blanket, feeling the bandages, the absence of his penis, the new contours where a vagina now lay. “W-what… no… I… I thought…” he stammered, voice raw, panic rising like a tide, his heart hammering as the reality sank in—not just his testicles, but his penis, gone, his body reshaped into something entirely new. “You… you made me… a woman?” he whispered, tears spilling, his hands clutching the blanket, trembling with the weight of his altered identity.

Sarah entered, her scrubs crisp, her face a mask of sympathy, though her eyes flickered with the guilt she buried. “Eli… I’m so sorry for the confusion,” she said, her voice soft, her hand resting on his shoulder, warm but firm. “But it’s for the best. You’ll be happier without a penis… living as a woman. Pretty soon, you’ll have a vagina, brand-new breasts… think about how much better you’ll look in lingerie, how happy Jake will be!” Her words, meant to comfort, landed like blows, Eli’s tears streaming faster, his mind reeling, the image of Jake’s dominance—his brutal fucking, the photos, the punishment—looming like a specter. “I… I didn’t want this…” he choked, voice breaking, his body trembling, the ache between his legs a cruel reminder of his loss.

Sarah handed him a prescription for pain medicine and estrogen, her voice gentle but unyielding. “Take these… they’ll help you heal, help you become who you’re meant to be,” she said, her fingers brushing his as she passed the papers, her smile forced, guilt gnawing at her. Eli nodded weakly, his spirit crushed, the weight of his new reality a suffocating shroud. Discharged, he shuffled home, the hospital gown replaced by loose sweats, his steps slow, the ache a constant companion as he faced his new life, the estrogen pills in his pocket a final seal on his transformation, his identity as a man stripped away, leaving him to navigate the world as a woman, haunted by the choices he had made.