Boringly Average

The AI’s verdict is still burning on your screen: Nick, 9.5 to 9.9 inches long, 6.3 to 6.7 inches girth. Volume approximation: 38–44 cubic inches. Your stomach twists. Your cock—already twitching—jumps in your boxers as shame and a sick, addictive arousal flood your veins.

You push your pants and underwear down, letting your dick spring free. It’s hard. Of course it’s hard. You stand in front of the mirror with the measuring tape in one shaking hand and your phone in the other, recording everything like some twisted scientific ritual.

First, length. You press the tape against your pubic bone and run it along the top of your throbbing shaft. 5.5 inches. You measure again, willing it to be longer. 5.4 inches. One more time, squeezing at the base to **** every possible millimeter. Still 5.5 inches on a generous day. Perfectly average. The epitome of normal.

Your cheeks burn.

Now girth. You wrap the tape around the thickest part of your mid-shaft. 4.6 inches. You try again, pumping your cock a few times to swell it as much as possible. Still 4.6 inches. It looks so… ordinary in the mirror. Nice shape. Decent head. Nothing that would make a woman’s eyes widen in awe or fear the way Erin’s did when Nick pulled his behemoth out.

You sit back down at your desk, cock standing stiff between your spread thighs, and open the AI chat again.

“Calculate erect volume for both. Use accurate formulas. Be brutal.”

The AI responds quickly, showing its work like the merciless scientist it is.

Your cock:

Length: 5.5 in

Average radius: 0.73 in from 4.6” circumference

Volume ≈ π × r² × h ≈ 9.2 cubic inches

Nick’s monster:

Length: 9.7 in

Average radius: 1.02 in (from ~6.5” circumference)

Volume ≈ 31.7 cubic inches (conservative)

Refined tapered model: 39–43 cubic inches

The difference hits you like a punch to the gut. Over four times the volume. Four times the stretch. Four times the sheer presence inside a woman. Your normal little 5.5 × 4.6 dick suddenly looks pathetic next to those numbers. You scroll back to the video of Nick feeding his fat cock into Erin. The way her pussy lips stretched thin and shiny around his girth. The visible bulge moving under her skin. The way she screamed and squirted like she was being fucked by something inhuman.

You start stroking.

Your hand moves easily up and down your modest shaft. It feels good—too good for how inadequate the numbers say you are. Precum leaks steadily, slicking your fingers as you pump faster, eyes glued to the screen where Nick is now pounding Erin doggy-style. Her ass ripples with every thrust. That massive 9.7-inch destroyer disappears completely inside her only to re-emerge glistening with her cream.

“Fuck… I’m so fucking normal,” you whisper, voice cracking with humiliated lust. The words make your balls tighten. You open the calculator again and start doing the math yourself, obsessively.

How many of your cocks would fit along his length? Nearly two.

How much thicker is he? Almost 50% more girth. That extra inch and a half around means he’s pushing her walls out in ways you never could.

You calculate the cross-sectional area difference. His cock has roughly double the surface area pressing against her inner walls. Double the friction. Double the fullness.

Devastation mixes with white-hot arousal. Your normal cock is leaking like a faucet now, your fist making wet, obscene sounds as you jerk it furiously. You imagine sliding into Erin right after Nick has finished with her. Your 5.5 inches would barely touch the sides of the gaping, cum-filled tunnel he left behind. She’d probably have to fake the moans for you while still feeling the aftershocks of his monstrous stretching.

You edge yourself cruelly, slowing down every time your orgasm approaches, drawing this out into pure self-****.

You measure yourself again. Still 5.5 × 4.6. You take photos from every angle, comparing them side-by-side with Nick’s screenshots. The difference is obscene. His cock looks like it belongs to a different species. Yours looks like the nice, friendly dick your high-school girlfriend would have called “cute.”

You go back to the AI.

“Tell me how a woman would feel the difference.”

The response is clinical and cruelly arousing:

“Significant. Initial penetration with Nick would involve noticeable stretching and pressure. With you, comfortable entry. Depth: Nick would repeatedly stimulate anterior and posterior fornices, likely causing cervical bumping and deep, full-body orgasms. Your 5.5 inches would primarily stimulate the first 2–3 inches of sensitive nerve endings. Girth differential would reduce vacuum seal and friction. Post-Nick sex, you would likely feel little resistance.”

You moan pathetically, stroking faster. The devastation is complete. You’re not small… you’re just normal. And in this world of monsters like Nick, normal feels like a fucking curse. You picture Tawny beneath you, her legs wrapped around your waist, politely moaning while secretly remembering how much fuller Nick felt. You imagine Erin trying to hide her disappointment when she sees your average cock after worshipping his behemoth.

The humiliation pushes you over the edge.

You cum hard, hips bucking, weak spurts shooting onto your stomach and chest. Even your orgasm feels… average. Not the powerful, rope-shooting geysers you imagine Nick unleashing deep inside Erin. Just a few decent pulses that leave you panting and sticky, staring at the ceiling with your softening 5.5-inch dick resting against your thigh.

But you don’t stop.

You wipe up with a tissue, then immediately start stroking again, half-hard and oversensitive. You replay the video. You re-read the volume calculations. You measure yourself a third time, praying the ruler was lying before. It wasn’t.

The obsession has you completely. You keep doing new calculations—volume ratios, length-to-girth indexes, estimated stretch percentages. Each new number makes your spent cock twitch back to life. You edge for nearly an hour, whispering to yourself, “I’m just normal… she’s had a real cock… I could never satisfy her like that…”