She really pushes you

You wake with your wife’s soaked pussy already grinding heavily over your mouth, her clit dragging wet trails across your tongue, and her pinky buried in the sensitive hollow of your taint, tracing tight, relentless circles. The ice from last night has left your cock in its most pathetic state—completely soft, wrinkled, foreskin swallowed around a pale little button so small it barely exists. Her other hand has already found it. She pinches the entire soft package between two fingers, stretches it, rolls the useless little fold, and tugs it while she speaks in a low, filthy voice.

“Morning, slut. Experiment starts right now.”

She unlocks her phone one-handed and opens a long, explicit playlist she clearly built for this. The first video fills the screen only inches from your face while she keeps riding your mouth in slow, wet circles. A pretty, smooth boy with soft features and a tiny cock is on his knees between two men. His dick is smaller than yours even soft—barely a wrinkled nub—and one of the men is already stroking it with two fingers while the other feeds him a thick cock. The camera cuts between the little button being played with and the heavy shaft stretching the boy’s throat.

Your wife pinches your own soft button harder and presses it right against the side of the phone.

“Look at that. You’re the same size as the pretty little thing on screen. Soft little girl-cock while the real ones get used. Keep licking while you watch him choke.”

She grinds harder, smearing her wetness across your nose and chin, pinky still working your taint in tight circles that make the tiny folded cock twitch helplessly in her pinch. The video continues: the small cock is slapped lightly, stretched, measured against the thick one, then ignored while the boy is bent over and fucked. Every time the camera returns to the little wrinkled package, she tugs yours and holds the comparison so you cannot look away.

The next clip is even more explicit. A trans girl with a soft, tiny cock tucked between her thighs is being eaten out while a man strokes her little dick with two fingers. The cock is almost identical to yours—pale, wrinkled, completely soft. Your wife pauses on a tight close-up, stretches your button until the soft head peeks out, and mashes it against the screen.

“This is what you look like. Soft little girl-dick. I’m going to keep you under me and make you watch every second while I decide how much I like it.”

She resumes the video and resumes the filthy grind. Her pussy is dripping now; strings of her wetness stretch between your lips and her folds every time she lifts slightly. Her pinky never stops. Her fingers never stop pinching, tugging, and displaying the soft little button next to every small cock that appears. Another video shows a feminine boy with an even smaller soft cock being jerked by a woman while a man fucks her from behind. The boy’s load is thin and watery, just like yours. Your wife laughs against the moan she is holding back and gives your button a series of sharp, dismissive pinches.

“Watery little spurt, just like the ones you left on all those hands last night—especially the male ones. You came so much faster for the men. I noticed. That’s why we’re watching this.”

She makes you watch four more clips the same way—bi scenes, soft little cocks on pretty boys and trans girls, small packages being stroked, slapped, compared to thick ones, ignored while the real fucking happens. The entire time she rides your face with increasing force, pinky relentless on your taint, fingers treating your tiny cock like a toy she is showing off to the screen. By the time she finally lifts her hips your face is glistening, your jaw aches, your taint is buzzing, and the soft little button is still pinched red between her fingers.

“Shopping. Right now. We’re finding clothes that match the pretty little thing you are on that screen.”

She does not give you normal clothes. She forces you into the tiniest black micro-shorts she owns and a cropped hoodie that ends under your chest, then presses the ice pack against the front for a full three minutes until the soft button is frozen into its most wrinkled, nonexistent state. At the boutique she keeps a hand down the front of the shorts almost constantly, two fingers locked around the cold little nub, pinching and rolling it while she pulls items off the racks.

The fitting room becomes an extension of the experiment.

She strips you herself. Pale pink micro panties with a satin bow go on first. She yanks them up so tight the soft button is crushed flat. Then she drops to her knees, pinches the little fold through the satin, and holds her phone beside it with a paused shot of the soft trans-girl cock from earlier.

“Identical. Soft little girl-dick in soft little girl-panties. Stay still while I play with it.”

She does—pinching, tugging, stretching the foreskin through the thin fabric while you watch the comparison. Next is a black micro skirt so short it is barely a wide belt. She has you wear it with nothing underneath first so the frozen little button is fully exposed every time you move, then adds the panties and shows you how the skirt still hangs completely flat. She stands behind you in the mirror, one hand pinching your tiny cock, the other holding the phone with an explicit bi scene paused, and grinds her bare, still-wet pussy against your ass while she talks.

“This is what you wear when you’re the pretty one with the little dick who gets played with while the real cocks do the fucking. Look how empty the skirt is. Look how small this button stays even when I pinch it.”

She makes you try the lavender glitter booty shorts, the white unicorn boy-shorts, a powder-blue micro pair, and a red plaid skirt even shorter than the black one. Every single change follows the same filthy pattern: she pinches and strokes your soft cock through the new fabric, holds explicit paused images of small feminine cocks next to it, describes in graphic detail how the clothes would stretch over even an average dick and how completely empty they look on you, and more than once she slips her fingers inside the panties or shorts to jerk the tiny button with short, tight strokes while an explicit scene plays on mute beside your reflection. She makes you bend over, spread your legs, hold the waistband down so the soft little cock is fully on display next to the phone, and stay like that while she comments on how much she is starting to like the view.

She buys everything that made the soft button look the most ridiculous—the pink micro panties, both micro skirts, the lavender shorts, and the powder-blue pair—plus a thin pink choker with a heart that sits against your throat like a collar. At the counter she keeps one hand down the front of your current shorts, openly pinching the cold little nub while she pays. The clerk’s eyes flick down once and then stay carefully neutral.

In the car she makes you change into the pink micro panties and the shortest black micro skirt immediately. The ice pack is strapped back onto your lap, crushing the soft button flat. Her hand is under the skirt and inside the panties before the car is even out of the parking lot, two fingers locked around the wrinkled little fold, pinching and rolling and occasionally giving it short, tight strokes that make it twitch but never grow.

“Home. Then the real experiment continues,” she says, voice thick and explicit. “New pretty clothes on. Bi and trans porn on the big screen. I’m going to sit on your face until my legs shake, keep my pinky buried in your taint, and every time a soft little girl-dick appears on screen I’m going to stretch this useless button out so you can see how perfectly you match. I’ll come on your tongue while you watch pretty boys and soft little cocks get used, and every time you twitch I’m going to pinch harder. We’re going to stay like that until I’ve decided exactly how much I like looking at my husband like the soft little trans girl he keeps turning into.”

She keeps the cold, folded nub pinched and half-stroked between her fingers the entire drive, already choosing the most explicit clips for the moment you are back underneath her in the clothes that leave nothing to the imagination and even less to fill them.