Obsessed

You sit in the dim bathroom light, chest heaving, the taste of your own shame still thick in your throat. The laptop screen glows with the final image—a smooth, locked sissy clitty even smaller than yours—and the forum comments praising how perfectly pathetic it looks. Your own button, now soft again at barely 0.7 inches, twitches one last time against your thigh. You clean up quickly, delete the browser history out of paranoid habit, and close the laptop.

Heart pounding, you listen at the door. The house is silent. Tawny must still be asleep upstairs. You slip out of the bathroom and creep back to bed without a sound, sliding under the covers beside her warm, curvaceous body. She doesn’t stir. You lie there in the dark, mind racing, cocklet already half-hard again inside your boxers as the images and words replay on loop: clitty territory… sissy training… lean in.

Sleep comes eventually, but it’s restless and filled with fragmented dreams of lace, measurements, and mocking laughter.

The obsession begins the next morning.

Tawny leaves for a few hours to run errands, kissing you goodbye with her usual affection and zero suspicion. The second the door closes, you’re back in the guest bathroom with the laptop, heart hammering with guilty excitement. You reopen the private browser and dive straight into the same forums.

You spend the entire morning lost in the “Under an Inch Club.” New posts, new photos, new confessions. You read them ravenously, comparing yourself to every single one. A guy at 0.65 soft who now wears panties full-time. Another whose wife measured him monthly and celebrated every millimeter of shrinkage. Threads about chastity, hormones, and permanent sissification. Your hand slips into your pants more than once, rubbing your tiny erection through the fabric as you edge to their stories.

By lunch you’ve created a second anonymous account. You post your measurements again—2.75 hard, 0.75 soft—along with a cropped, anonymous photo of your soft button next to a coin for scale. The responses flood in within minutes.

“Fuck, that’s proper clit-sized. Welcome, sister.”

“Bet your wife laughs every time she sees it. Mine does.”

“Post a hard comparison next time. We want to see how much of a sissy nub you’re working with.”

The validation mixed with degradation makes your clitty throb painfully. You reply to several, sharing more details—how Tawny had ridden you reverse cowgirl the night before, barely feeling you, how she made you repeat the numbers while she came. The community devours it. Private messages start arriving: encouragement, teasing, links to sissy hypno audio, and advice on “training your clitty properly.”

You don’t stop there. You spend the afternoon hopping between tabs. Clit comparison galleries. Captions that read “Real men fuck. You leak.” Stories of small-dick husbands who became full cucks and then sissies. One long, detailed journal from a man who started exactly where you are—slightly bigger than you at first—and ended up on low-dose estrogen with a permanent micro-cage and a thriving sex life as his wife’s feminized plaything. You stroke yourself three separate times while reading it, each orgasm weaker and more pathetic than the last, cum barely escaping your tiny head.

When Tawny gets home, you act normal. You kiss her, make dinner, and chat about her day. But the moment she goes to take a shower, you’re back on your phone in the living room, refreshing the forums in private mode. A new thread titled “Clitty Rubbing Techniques for Maximum Humiliation” has you rock-hard again. You follow along in secret, rubbing yourself through your pants exactly as the posters describe—gentle circles focused on the head, no real stroking, just like a girl playing with her clit. You nearly cum when one user posts a video of his own smooth button being edged for twenty minutes straight.

That night, after Tawny falls asleep, you slip downstairs again. The obsession has you in its grip. You spend nearly two hours edging to the most extreme content. Sissy transformation timelines. Husbands smaller than you who now take real cock while their wives watch and laugh. Measurements threads where men proudly display sub-inch soft lengths and talk about how free they feel after giving up any pretense of being “men.”

You cum twice more—once while reading a wife’s detailed account of locking her husband’s 0.8-inch soft dick away permanently, and again while staring at a side-by-side photo of a real clit and a micropenis that looked almost identical. Each orgasm leaves you more drained and more addicted. The shame only fuels the fire.

The next several days blur into a secret double life.

During the day you function normally with Tawny—working, talking, even making love when she initiates. But every moment she’s distracted or out of the house, you’re back online. The forums become your drug. You check them first thing in the morning, during lunch breaks, and late into the night. Your measurements are now public in a couple of threads, and you’ve gained a small following of admirers who call you “Button” or “ClittyHubby.”

You start saving photos. Screenshots of the hottest captions. Comparisons where your uploaded pictures sit right next to other sub-inch clits. One user even makes a collage featuring your soft nub next to a woman’s aroused clit with the text “Which is bigger?” The comments are merciless and you cum to them twice in one sitting.

Tawny notices you seem distracted and hornier than usual, but she attributes it to normal marital heat. She has no idea you’re spending hours every day reading about being feminized, caged, and turned into a whimpering sissy while she’s out. The secrecy makes it even hotter.

One particularly intense night, after Tawny goes to bed early, you lock yourself in the bathroom again and go deeper than ever. You find a live chat room attached to the forum. Dozens of small-dick subs online. You type shyly at first, then bolder as they praise your size and encourage you.

“Send a real-time pic of your clitty right now.”

You do it—hard, leaking, measured against a ruler. The chat explodes with teasing and encouragement. Someone starts a “stroke session” where everyone edges together following the same humiliating instructions. You obey every command: rub only the head, call yourself a sissy out loud in whispers, edge without cumming for nearly forty minutes. When you finally explode, it’s the weakest, most intense hands-free-style dribble you’ve ever had, most of it just oozing out while you whimper.

You become obsessed with the progression stories. Men who started where you are and gradually lost length and masculinity. The idea haunts and arouses you. You catch yourself wondering what Tawny would say if she knew how many hours you were spending dreaming about becoming her perfect, tiny-clitted sissy.

By the end of the week you’ve visited the pages dozens of times. Your browser history (carefully hidden) is filled with nothing but small penis humiliation, sissy training, and under-an-inch content. You’ve posted more photos, joined more threads, and even started fantasizing about showing Tawny everything—about handing her the ruler again while wearing the pink panties you secretly ordered online and hid in the guest room.

Late one night, after another marathon edging session that left your clitty raw and your balls aching, you finally close the laptop and slip back into bed beside your sleeping wife. Your mind is full of lace, cages, and the constant, throbbing knowledge that you are, without question, in clitty territory.

And you can’t stop going back.