The Afternoon His Cousin Awakened His Submissive Side

Damián had learned early on that nature does not distribute its favors fairly. At twenty, while his university classmates boasted in the gym locker rooms, he changed with his back turned and prayed no one would turn their head. The reason was always the same: between his legs there wasn’t much to show, just a few centimeters of cock that, even at its hardest, never managed to command respect.

That morning, locked in his room with the bolt fastened, he measured himself again. He pressed the ruler against the base and stared at the number with a resigned grimace.

—Six centimeters —he muttered, and that with it fully hard.

Maybe one day it’ll be seven, he thought, without believing it for an instant.

He put the ruler back in the drawer like someone hiding incriminating evidence and stepped into the shower. The water came out cold because of the July heat, and although he cursed it at first, he ended up grateful for that coolness on the back of his neck. He wrapped the towel around his waist and came out of the bathroom still damp, leaving a trail of droplets down the hallway.

He wasn’t expecting to run straight into his aunt Marisol, who had come to visit that same afternoon with her daughter.

—Damián, what on earth are you wearing? —the woman asked with an amused smile, eyeing him up and down.

—I just got out of the shower —he replied, red to the tips of his ears. Even if they were family, he hated being seen half-naked.

He took two steps toward his room, fully intent on disappearing as quickly as possible. And then the first disaster of the day happened.

***

The edge of the towel caught on the back of a chair. Damián felt the tug too late: the fabric gave way and slipped to the floor, leaving him completely exposed in the middle of the hallway. To make matters worse, the cold water had shrunk his already meager manhood until it was reduced to an almost invisible detail, a wrinkled little nub between a pair of equally tucked-up balls.

His cousin Carolina, who was coming out of the kitchen at that very moment, stopped dead. It took her a second to process what was in front of her, and the next second she burst out laughing, unable to hold it in. She doubled over, crying with laughter, and Aunt Marisol quickly joined in.

—But… but there’s nothing there, Auntie, look, look at that little dick! —Carolina managed to say between hiccups, pointing at his groin with a trembling index finger—. It looks like a kid’s!

—Oh, sweetheart, don’t be mean —Marisol replied, but without looking away, her eyes fixed right there, measuring him, appraising him, and a crooked smile that said the exact opposite of her words—. Though she’s not wrong.

Damián bent down to grab the towel, heart hammering, face burning. What came next was even worse. With his feet still wet, he lost his balance in a cartoon-worthy tumble and pitched forward, slamming full force against the edge of the hallway table. Right between the legs.

He let out a muffled scream and fell into a ball on the floor. Far from stopping, the two women’s laughter redoubled at the double humiliation.

Earth, swallow me up, he pleaded silently, clutching the pain that rose in waves from his balls to his stomach.

It took him a good while to recover. His mother appeared with an ice pack and, though she asked if he was okay, she couldn’t help laughing too when they told her what had happened. The physical pain would pass; the embarrassment, he sensed, would stay with him much longer.

***

At lunch, already dressed and with his pride in the dirt, he discovered the ordeal wasn’t over. Carolina didn’t say a single word about it, but every time their eyes met, she held up her thumb and index finger separated by barely a couple of centimeters, silently reminding him of his size. Every gesture was a needle straight into his self-esteem.

—Do you want an omelet? —his mother asked from the stove.

—Yes, although your cousin’s already had enough egg this morning —Carolina replied, prompting a knowing laugh from all three women. Even his mother was in on it.

Damián stared at his plate and chewed in silence. The strangest part wasn’t the flush rising up his neck, but something he couldn’t name: a hot, confused feeling that mixed with the shame and, deep down, made his cock throb under his pants. Every time Carolina made that little finger gesture, he felt a pull in his groin that had nothing to do with the pain from earlier.

The afternoon passed with that kind of sharp teasing, until night fell and the house finally went quiet.

***

In the middle of the night, thirst woke him. He went down to the kitchen in the dark, barefoot, shuffling his feet so as not to make noise. He didn’t turn on the light, so he didn’t see the silhouette already there, in front of the open fridge.

—You were thirsty too? —he asked, without thinking.

His voice startled Carolina, who reacted on pure instinct. She jerked her knee upward and hit him dead on, once again, in the same abused spot.

Damián collapsed against the cold tiles, screaming in pain, both hands clamped over his groin. The light came on, his aunt and mother arrived alarmed, and when they heard what had happened, this time they didn’t laugh. Something like pity crossed their faces at the sight of the boy who had taken two savage blows in the same day.

He went back to bed slowly, tears welling in his eyes. The next morning, his aunt and cousin left early, not before giving him one last dig.

—Take care of those balls, cousin —Carolina said from the doorway, winking at him with a smile he would take a long time to forget—. And the little cock too, in case it falls off completely.

***

The worst came when he was left alone. He wanted to release the built-up tension, lock himself in his room and forget everything the only way he knew how. He lay on his back in bed, grabbed his limp cock with his hand, and started tugging at it with years of practice. Nothing. He twisted it, squeezed it, spit into his palm to lubricate it, pinched his balls carefully looking for some reaction. The dick stayed just as soft, hanging like a dead snail between his fingers.

Panic seized him. He turned on the laptop, opened his favorite videos, the ones that usually had him cum in two minutes: big tits, bouncing asses, women moaning. He looked at the screen while he writhed in desperation, sweating, jaw clenched, and his cock still gave no sign of life. Nothing, not a tingle, not the slightest hardness. They broke it, he thought, on the verge of tears. He was in the middle of a crisis, kneeling on the bed with his limp little cock in his hand and his face a wreck, when his mother came in without warning and found him in that miserable state.

—It won’t get hard! —he shouted, scared and crying, without measuring how absurd the confession was—. It won’t, Mom, it won’t!

His mother dropped everything she was doing and, without giving him room to protest, took him to the hospital. An old friend of hers, a doctor, agreed to examine him as a personal favor.

***

Being naked in front of Dr. Renata was uncomfortable enough. But what really finished him off was the presence of her assistant, a young woman only a couple of years older than him, in a lab coat that did a poor job of hiding a spectacular figure and a generous neckline from which the beginning of two firm, brown breasts peeked out. The girl hid her smile behind a folder, though Damián didn’t miss the amused glint in her eyes when she saw how little there was to examine.

—Let’s see what we’ve got here —Renata said, taking his cock between thumb and forefinger and lifting it like someone inspecting a small object. The assistant came closer with the folder and leaned in, so much that Damián could smell her perfume and see how her bra pressed against the lab coat—. Doesn’t look like anything’s broken, just a good amount of inflammation in the testicles. The dick itself is intact, all things considered.

She palpated his balls one by one, swollen and bruised, and Damián winced at the touch. The assistant was taking notes in the folder without looking away, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

—Put this cream on three times a day, walk around the house without clothes for a few days, and for God’s sake, avoid any more blows —Renata went on, finally letting him go—. If you take another hit like that, you won’t get it up again in your life.

—It’s not like there’s that much to get up —the assistant commented under her breath, earning a knowing little laugh from the doctor, which the two of them tried to hide—. No offense, doctor, but I mean… just look at it.

—Hush, Lucía, the poor boy has enough already —Renata replied, though another laugh escaped her as she gave his thigh a paternal little pat, very near his groin—. Go on, get dressed, champion. And don’t worry about the impotence, it’s from the shock and the impact, in a few days you’ll be back in action… with what God gave you.

Damián closed his eyes as he pulled up his briefs with trembling hands. Again, he thought. And again he felt that strange current, that heat rising in his chest when a woman laughed at him. Only this time, as he bent down to put on his pants, he felt with horror that his cock had begun to swell, timidly, inside the fabric. It was responding at last. It was responding to the teasing. It wasn’t just shame. It was something else, something he was beginning to recognize.

***

The following days were an exercise in patience. He walked around the house naked, applying the cream with his fingertip, waiting for his body to return to normal. On the third day, while shaking himself off after peeing, he felt it: a firm, complete erection, his six centimeters standing hard and pointing forward, drawing a huge smile across his face.

Crazy with joy, and taking advantage of being alone at home, he shot off toward his room ready to make up for lost time. He didn’t make it. In the doorway, because of his height, he slammed full force into the doorknob. Right there. Again.

He dropped to the floor writhing, cursing his luck, condemned to another four days of anti-inflammatories and forced abstinence. He was starting to believe the whole universe was conspiring against his groin.

***

When he finally managed to relieve himself without incident, something had changed in his head. He lay on the bed, spat into his hand, and started masturbating slowly, gripping his cock with two fingers, which was all it took. He closed his eyes and, without meaning to, his mind went back to the dark kitchen, to his cousin’s knee smashing into his balls, to the blunt pain between his legs. He still felt the impact. And, to his surprise, that memory made his cock harder than it had been in months.

He returned to the hallway scene, to the two women pointing at his smallness through laughter, to Carolina measuring the air with her fingers at lunch, to Lucía’s voice saying it’s not like there’s that much to get up. Each image, which for years he would have considered a nightmare, now drove him to the edge with astonishing ease. He stroked his little cock with thumb and forefinger, the same gesture Carolina had used to humiliate him, and humiliation itself turned into pleasure.

—If there’s nothing there —he whispered, imitating his cousin’s voice, and his cock jerked hard between his fingers—. If it looks like a kid’s.

He came seconds later, with a rough groan, arching his back as short spurts of semen splattered his stomach. It was a strange orgasm, a long one, longer than any he’d had before, with his mind flooded by women’s laughter and fingers a couple of centimeters apart. He stayed sprawled there, sweating, hand sticky, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling.

What’s wrong with me?, he wondered. But the answer was already pulsing in his body, and it was too intense to deny.

After that, he sought out that feeling on purpose. He found videos of dominant women, women who humiliated and punished men surrendered at their feet. Videos of women laughing at small cocks, pointing at them, measuring them with rulers while the owner cried from shame. Videos of knee strikes to the balls, kicks, heels crushing helpless dicks. He discovered an entire world that seemed made to measure for him, where his biggest flaw suddenly became the center of pleasure. He spent hours locked in his room, his cock reddened from tugging at it with two fingers, cumming again and again with his cousin’s laughter booming in his head.

He masturbated imagining Carolina coming to visit again, finding him naked once more, calling him over and making him stand in front of her with his hands behind his neck. He imagined her bending down to look more closely, squeezing his still-sore balls until he moaned, grabbing his little cock between two fingers and shaking it with contempt, laughing at how he came in seconds, splattering her hand with a pitiful little thread of semen that she would stare at with amused disgust before wiping it across her own cheek.

Out of pride, he would never admit it out loud. But when he watched a movie in which a man took a blow between the legs, a secret part of him wished he had been the one taking the kick. He imagined himself standing naked before a circle of women who laughed and pointed at his manhood with those two fingers separated by barely a couple of centimeters. He imagined Carolina, Marisol, his mother, Dr. Renata, and Lucía, all around him, all looking at him, all measuring him with their hands and mocking his pathetic six centimeters while he, legs shaking, came just from hearing them talk, without anyone touching him, letting his load fall to the floor like a useless offering.

In those fantasies there was no pain, only surrender. A surrender so complete it left him both empty and satisfied, spilling the last drop while the imaginary humiliation wrapped around him like a wet, merciless caress.

Thus, between a bad run of blows and a handful of cruel laughs, a new submissive was born in Damián. Not the one nature had planned, but the only one who, for the first time in his life, made him feel exactly where he was meant to be: on his knees, with his little cock hard between two fingers, and a woman laughing above him.