Testing

You are still in the center of the circle, naked except for the pointed ears and face paint, your soft little cock fully exposed after the ice pack and the long round of comparisons. The room is filled with the mixed crowd of actual women and the other tiny-dicked husbands dressed and presented just like you. Your wife stands behind you with both hands on your hips, holding you in place as the next phase begins.

“Stamina test,” she announces, voice clear and cheerful. “Anyone who wants to can see how long my little elf lasts. Hands only. No mouths yet. Let’s see what this baby dick can actually do.”

A woman in a tight red devil costume steps forward first. She looks down at your soft, hairless package, then reaches out and gives the tiny wrinkled nub a light thump with her middle finger, the way someone might flick a switch.

“It’s like he avoided all the good parts of puberty,” she says, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Like seriously, what the fuck? There’s nothing here. No length, no thickness, no real balls. Just this little soft thing.”

She wraps her fingers around it anyway. Her hand completely engulfs the short shaft and the small head. She begins to stroke with steady, practiced pressure—tight, focused, the kind of hand job meant to finish a man quickly. The other tiny-dicked husbands watch with a mixture of sympathy and recognition. Their own wives are already smiling, clearly familiar with how these tests go.

You do not last long.

The cold has left you extra sensitive. The public exposure, the ongoing commentary, and the efficient grip of a stranger’s hand are too much. Your hips twitch. A broken sound escapes your throat. You spill after less than two minutes—short, weak pulses that leave only a small amount of thin, watery cum across her fingers and the back of her hand. She keeps stroking through it, milking every last drop, then holds her hand up for the circle to see.

“Watery,” she says with a little laugh. “Not even manly cum. Just this clear, thin stuff. Like he never finished growing down there either.”

Your wife reaches around and gives your still-twitching little cock a proud squeeze.

“Told you. He never lasts. And it’s always like that—thin, watery, barely anything. Who’s next?”

A second woman steps in immediately. She does not bother with commentary at first. She just takes your soft, spent cock in her hand and begins stroking again, determined to see if a second round will last any longer. Around you the other small-dicked husbands are being put through similar tests by their own wives or by borrowed hands. Soft little cocks are jerked, compared, and laughed at. The room fills with the wet sounds of short shafts being worked and the soft, embarrassed moans of men who finish just as quickly as you did.

You come a second time even faster. The watery cum dribbles out in weak spurts while the woman stroking you shakes her head.

“Same thing. Thin. Not thick or white or anything. Just… watery. Poor little thing.”

Your wife keeps you standing there, hips forward, while more hands take their turn. Each woman who steps up gives your tiny cock a few evaluating strokes, makes a comment about its size or its lack of staying power, and then works you to another quick, watery finish. Some of them thump it the same way the first woman did, testing how soft and small it stays even when stimulated. Others stretch the foreskin back to examine the head, then let it snap closed again while they laugh.

One of the other tiny-dicked husbands is brought over so the two of you can be jerked side by side. The women take turns comparing how fast each of you finishes and how little, how watery the cum is. Your wife stays right behind you the entire time, hands on your waist, occasionally reaching down to help stroke or to hold your soft little package out for the next person in line.

“Keep going,” she tells the circle, still smiling. “He can take more. He always gets hard again pretty fast when people are watching. And I want everyone to see exactly how quick and how weak this baby dick really is.”

Another hand wraps around you. Another steady rhythm begins. The cold sensitivity, the relentless public attention, and the constant commentary about how small and underdeveloped you look keep the cycle going—hard, stroked, finished in under two minutes, watery cum, soft again, repeat. The other small-dicked husbands around the room are going through the same thing, their wives openly discussing how none of them ever last and how none of them ever produce anything thicker than a light dribble.

You stand there in the middle of it all, pointed ears still on, face paint starting to smudge from heat and embarrassment, while hand after hand tests your stamina and finds it just as lacking as the rest of you.