An Indian woman

“Strip,” commanded Kasandara. Bruce hesitated. The illegitimate fakir frowned, her forehead and the red bindi creasing. “Pain is not merely physical. It is emotional too. Now strip.”

Bruce swallowed and carefully took his pants off. His shirt came next, his muscular form capable of making the shyest maiden blush, yet gaining no praise from his Indian teacher. She was unmoving. She was still. Draped in a black scarf, she displayed modesty, restraint, and impossible control. Control that Bruce sought for himself.

“Ha…” It took a long breath to build the confidence to remove his underwear. Kasandara might have been his teacher but she was still a woman. A gorgeous brown woman at that. He inhaled sharply and slowly pulled the black underwear down.

A penis emerged, small and feeble. It was liberated yet meek from the previous hours of meditation. The pouch was tiny and scrunched up and the penis was shrivelled up to a meager two inches.

Bruce did everything he could not to be ashamed. He was a Wayne. He was the inheritor to the largest company in the eastern seaboard. Yet here he was, in the middle of New Delhi, stripping at the best of a street woman.

Kasandara didn’t blink. She stared, unimpressed. “Now stand outside. Let them all see.”

“What?” Bruce put his hands over his manhood. “I came for control of pain, not—”

“No man can claim to have the largest manhood. Even then, men cling to that meaningless pride. Once that pride dissipates, you will understand,” Kasandara said. “Now go. I will teach you the final step unless you stand outside for an entire night.”

An entire night!? It was fall. There was a chance the cold could creep in and ruin his image further. Hands cupping his cock and balls, Bruce protested, “The local law—”

“Do not arrest for public indecency. If you see them, bribe them, and they will leave you, a white man, alone.”

He stayed still, bewildered. Going outside nude in the streets of New Delhi? Was she crazy? His jaw clenched. But there was a reason he was doing this. He was doing this for his parents—for vengeance. The young man, barely twenty years old, swallowed up his pride and took his hands off his crotch.

“I understand,” Bruce replied. With that, he turned and opened the door to the outside world.

Ordinarily, he was four inches, yet when it mattered it always shrunk to two or three inches. As he stood outside, bare feet planted, he realized how much he could change that.

“Pffft! Brother, look at that white man!”

“Oh my god!”

Many noticed. Many pointed and humiliated him. Many called for the shame of the white man. Bruce hated every second but for the sake of the mission and his parents he would do it. He would stand his ground.

"Pfft! How can it be so small!"

"Such a big man yet such a small cock…"

"What a tiny ding a ling!"

Most kept their distance, merely laughing at his shame. A few did come close.

One individual even flicked his balls. A young Indian lady with long brown hair and a giggly disposition. A beauty that ordinarily would have blushed at his form. “I can’t believe white men are so small.”

His face went beet red.

He was supposed to learn from this. He was supposed to use this as a learning experience.

“Haha! Honey, look! I’m bigger than he is!”

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this.

Minutes went into hours. Hours turned the day into night. By the end of the day, by the time Kasandara appeared, he was rock hard. He was a blank slate, unfettered by the comments of the hive mind.

Kasandara smiled. “Good. Come back in. Oh, and please, get rid of that tiny rod.”

Bruce didn’t so much as flinch as she tossed him his clothes and returned to dignity.

New Delhi didn’t know it but that day the streets met Bruce Wayne and his iconic four inch penis. An exchange of equal yet silent importance.

That day, Bruce learned more than just controlling pain; he learned to control every spark of emotion in him. Aliens, gods, men, it didn’t matter. Nothing was worse than standing with your tiny dick out, unable to move and only able to listen to the laughter and mocking sounds of ordinary people.

Nothing could have prepared Batman to face impossible odds with a clear mind better.