Ending Seven

“Fuck me...,” Lou slurred.

Manifold hours after the worst day in Lou’s life did nothing at mitigating his prevailing shame. Even the physician who aided him after his temporary unconsciousness gave Lou a disheartened smile and gentle pat on the shoulder before he discharged him from the clinic.

“Don’t worry, son. It gets better.”

When? he brooded.

Lou avoided the pleasant to jocund ganders by the many ship’s guests despite his clothed state, locking himself in his room until the next morning. He ignored calls, texts, and the occasional auditory replays of his embarrassing exposure outside his window. Only when preparing for disembarkment did he leave the room, immediately greeted by his “sympathetic” friend, who he had dismissed as well, ignoring his several door knockings throughout the evening. As expected, Alex’s demeanour towards him changed. No longer was he “bro” or “dude,” but now “little bud.” No longer did he follow Lou’s instructions, dismissing him when discussing check-out procedures. No longer did he respect Lou’s boundaries, overstepping them in whole. Lou cringed as Alex chastised him for not packing or washing all his belongings, ridiculing him once he found his crusty designer blue briefs from last night.

“Damn, little bud. Jerked off all trip, huh?”

Lou finalised his payments (which embarrassingly included cleaning charges given his “accident”) before resentfully sitting with Alex at the breakfast dining venue until their disembark time. Before long, and even after they left, the guests’ amused looks complemented those filled with abhorrence. While enjoyment for some, the jock’s tiny cock ruined the night of many. Debbie’s soundbite plus snippets of his dick now on dozens, if not hundreds, of the circus show recordings.

Meant for friends and family. Well, not anymore without liabilities.

Sneers. Wagging pinkies. Rude comments ranging from “shrimp” to “little sausage.” He took it, unwilling to speak or defend his pride. Even when sobered Sultry, Gravelly, and Sugary offered their brief apologies, he just walked away; head down. Granted, only Sugary impressed deep remorse. The other two ladies hardly kept their giggles contained.

The ride back home safeguarded Lou against further public mortification, though Alex made clear, in no more than half an hour, that he comprised part of the problem.

“So, what’s it like having a tiny dick?”

“Damn, you hounded TC for years, when you weren’t doing much better.”

“Real talk. Are you still a virgin? I mean...were those women you bragged about fucking with your horse cock real?”

“Did you always stuff? You planning on buying another dick?”

“Seriously, little bud, how big is that thing? You always jerked off with two fingers?”

“I wouldn’t show anyone either if I packed a vanilla tootsie roll.”

Indignation filled Lou before, muddled with shame and insecurity. But now he was pissed off. Did he have to deal with this crap from Alex as well?

No. No I don’t, a faint voice spoke.

Not until he heard Alex lament his inability to record Lou’s masturbatory ode to his teeny weenie, did he realise it was his own.

I don’t have to deal with any more of this bullshit from him. I won the prize money. I have the power.

Almost on the spot did Lou pull over on the freeway shoulder, a cruel leer forming at Alex’s sudden confusion. His “friend” looked around, scratching his head in the process.

“What’s wrong, little bud? Why’d you pulled over?”

“Get out of the car.”

“What?”

“Get out of my fucking car!”

“Wha--bud. I’m just joking around. It’s not that serious--”

Lou stormed out, walking over towards the vehicle’s passenger side to pull then throw his best friend of many years onto the pavement. Everything after that blurred amidst several obscene gestures, throwing of belongings, rounds of shouting, and, of course, a fatality to their friendship.

“Fuck you, Lou! Just cause you couldn’t grow a cock doesn’t mean you have to be a dick! Fuck you and your money.”

“Never planned on giving you a cent anyway!” Lou exclaimed before racing off.

Home offered some mental composure, another safeguard for his manhood. But like Alex, it had shown itself in a bad way for his social rebound. Debbie ignored him at work. Not even her standard mocking quips uttered. And people noticed. Rumours followed, condemning him into a detestable position where even his charismatic, good looks could not save him. Though the coup de grâce for his sanity was the denial for penis augmentation by the trial’s surgical urologist and his entertained internist: Dr Maria Rod, Alex Rod’s younger sister. Lou sizzled in embarrassment as the doctor discussed the several risks inhibiting his ability to get a larger dick. Unaware his accompanied healthcare professional was a woman who grew up with him. Who lusted after him. Only to learn on the job he could have never, ever fulfil her. Lou ran out of the office, shocking both physicians, determined to not tough out this bullshit anymore. With his newfound capital, he soon after bought another prosthetic (even grander than his prior one) before making a crass decision to leave town and start anew.

In a few weeks, Lou settled into a town many miles over. However, rather than his disgrace serving as a lesson for a better future, Lou fell right back into his arrogant bravado, yet again accepted because of his attractiveness. All accumulated shame left as he effectuated women’s lustful sentiments and men’s jealous annoyance. But he soon learned his luck would always be fleeting.

“Dude. I would learn to use a towel with that little dick of yours,” said the jock to the young Italian man whom he had been working out with since moving.

The man rolled his eyes, giving a cursory glance towards Lou’s barely covered crotch.

“Not everyone was horse blessed, Smallwood,” he responded.

Lou covered up with his tight white briefs, bulging obscenely in the fabric.

“True, but not everyone was born a mouse either.”

They got dressed, leaving the locker room to enter the gym proper. The Italian gentleman spotted Lou while he performed his bench presses. A few women grimaced in his direction, noting the large bulge at his groin.

“Nasty,” said an older lady.

“Yeah, this is a gym if you forgot.”

Lou chuckled, placing the barbells on top of the catches after finishing his rep. He tugged at his crotch, showing that he was “flaccid.”

“You ladies just haven’t had a real man.”

Beep beep.

As he spoke, he heard Debbie’s voice. He looked to find a male playing her dreaded words on his phone: Lou Smallwood, what happened to your dick?!

He jumped up, hitting his triceps against the barbell before rushing over and knocking the phone out of the roaring man’s hands. He gripped his upper arm, the physical pain settling in as the dread returned.

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.

In the twinkling of an eye, her words echoed as everyone around him pulled out their mobiles to check the sudden alerts, soon laughing at whatever they received. In seconds, Lou got out his phone as well, the last to receive the message from an unknown number. He pressed the link contained, directed to a video posted on social media. His eyes widened at the analytics.

His humiliating exposure titled Little Lou and The Search for His Small Wood. From the loss of his prosthetic to running like a mad man in a futile effort to secure his masculinity.

8.59 million views.

926K likes.

88.6K comments.

“You’re right,” pointing at his nub on her phone’s screen, “I haven’t had a real man.”

The entire gym laughed, prompting Lou to run out of the recreational space in shame. Though he did his best knocking away phones and tablets out of the hands of the several people he passed.

“Fuck me...”

Lou laid on the ground of his large apartment bathed in darkness, other than his phone’s pale luminance; surrounded by various beer and liquor containers. His quick survey to determine who had shared that video, which popularity continued to grow exponentially, was for naught. Though Tristian’s company contacted him as notification of an investigation on his behalf. Lou did not care. Partially since said investigation was for Tristian’s liability. Mostly because over a billion people knew he had a micro cock and found enjoyment in his mortification.

*Jesus! It looks like a button!

Give me a like if you’re packing more than Little Lou!

Is it true he buys dildos to trick people?!*

But more abysmally was that this video invaded his personal circle as well, with all credit given to his former best friend.

Status Update - The guy sucks. Still hasn’t gotten laid. Still acts like he’s a big shot when there is literally nothing there. Keep the money, Lou! Spend it on another dick.

*Damn bro! Y’all were so cool. Who knew a little dick could fuck things up?

I guess he really was compensating for something all throughout high school.

Is it true you saw him jerking off to this? I bet he is now LMAO.*

Lou cringed, taking his two fingers away from his reddened cock after playing with it for the tenth time that day.

“Damn...”

He could never leave home again. Not after this.

He attempted to stand, only to trip, since he forgot his loose boxers were at his knees. He hit the floor, crying aloud upon twisting his ankle and striking his behind. Tears long held escaped him while he kneaded his firm buttocks and feet. He sobbed for at least an hour before falling asleep, his dreams a vivid recall of all his bullying. All his cruel behaviour. And his recent retributions absorbing his thoughts.

Did he make others feel this way?

Pathetic. Angry. Inadequate.

Did he really act this way because of his small dick?

So lost in a brown study, he awoke at the crack of dawn.

Still fatigue, but somewhat enlightened.

Hungover, he limped towards his freezer before getting a pack of ice. He placed it on his ankle before elevating his feet onto the nearest counter. He needed help.

He needed a change. Not a superficial one, but an internal one. Mental one. Maybe therapy? The world now knew how much he was lacking, his little secret a secret no longer. People will either accept or reject his body just by looking at him. And he needed to accept that.

Could he accept himself?

A small smile formed along his lips, though it did not reach his eyes.

He did not know. He truly did not know. But he could at least try...

End