The Afternoon His Cousin Awakened His Submissive Side

Damián had learned early on that nature does not distribute its favors justly. At twenty, while his university classmates bragged in the gym locker room, he changed with his back turned and prayed that no one would look over. The reason was always the same: between his legs there was not much to show, just a few centimeters that, even at their best, could not command respect.

That morning, locked in his room with the latch thrown, he had measured himself again. He braced the ruler against the base and stared at the number with a grimace of resignation.

—Six centimeters —he murmured, and that was fully hard.

Maybe one day it’ll be seven, he thought, not believing it for an instant.

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

He did not expect to run straight into his Aunt Marisol, who had come to visit that very afternoon with his cousin.

—Damián, what on earth is that outfit? —the woman asked with an amused smile, looking him up and down.

—I just got out of the shower —he replied, red to the ears. Family or not, he hated being seen half-naked.

He took two steps toward his room with every intention of disappearing as quickly as possible. And then the first misfortune of the day happened.

***

The edge of the towel snagged on the back of a chair. Damián felt the tug too late: the fabric gave way and slid 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 had been reduced to an almost invisible detail.

His cousin Carolina, who was coming from the kitchen at that moment, came to a dead stop. It took her a second to process what she had 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 soon joined in.

—But... but there’s nothing there —Carolina managed to say between snorts, pointing at his crotch with a trembling index finger.

Damián bent down to grab the towel, his heart racing. What came next was even worse. With his feet still wet, he lost his balance in a pirouette worthy of a cartoon and crashed forward, hitting himself squarely on the edge of the hall table. Right between the legs.

He let out a strangled cry and curled up on the floor. Far from stopping, the two women’s laughter redoubled at the double humiliation.

Swallow me, earth, he begged silently, pressing his hands against the pain.

It took him quite a while to recover. His mother appeared with an ice pack and, although she asked if he was all right, she could not help laughing too when they told her what had happened. The physical pain would pass; the shame, he sensed, would stay with him much longer.

***

During lunch, fully dressed and with his pride in the dirt, he discovered the ordeal was not over. Carolina did not say a single word about it, but every time their eyes met, she lifted her thumb and index finger barely a couple of centimeters apart, silently reminding him of his size. Every gesture was a needle straight to his self-esteem.

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

—Yes, although cousin has already had enough this morning —Carolina replied, provoking an accomplice burst of laughter from the three women. Even his mother was in on it.

Damián fixed his eyes on his plate and chewed in silence. The strangest thing was not the flush rising up his neck, but something he could not name: a hot, confused sensation that mixed with the shame and, very deep down, was not entirely unpleasant.

The afternoon went by with that sort of cutting joke, until night fell and the house finally grew silent.

***

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 did not turn on the light, so he did not see the silhouette that was already there, in front of the open refrigerator.

—Were you thirsty too? —he asked, without thinking.

His voice startled Carolina, who reacted on pure reflex. She lifted her knee in a sudden motion and hit him dead on, once again, in the same battered spot.

Damián collapsed against the cold tiles screaming in pain, both hands clutching his crotch. The light came on, his aunt and mother rushed in alarmed, and when they heard what had happened, they did not laugh this time. Something like pity crossed their faces as they looked at the boy who had taken two savage blows in a single day.

He went back to bed walking slowly, tears shining in his eyes. The next morning, his aunt and cousin left early, not without giving him one last jab.

—Take care of those balls, cousin —Carolina said from the doorway, winking at him with a smile he would not forget for a very long time.

***

The worst came when he was left alone. He wanted to relieve the built-up tension, lock himself in his room and forget everything the only way he knew how. But no matter how hard he tried, his body would not respond. There was no way to get hard.

Panic seized him. He spent a couple of hours in front of the screen, trying everything that usually worked for him, and nothing. They’ve broken it, he thought, on the verge of tears. He was in the middle of a crisis when his mother came in without warning and found him in that pitiful state.

—It won’t get hard! —he shouted, frightened and crying, without measuring how absurd the confession sounded.

His mother dropped everything she was holding and, without giving him a chance 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 embarrassing enough. But what truly finished him off was the presence of her assistant, a young woman who was barely a couple of years older than him, with a lab coat that did a poor job of hiding a spectacular figure and a generous cleavage. The girl hid her smile behind a folder, though Damián could not miss the amused gleam in her eyes when she saw how little there was to examine.

—It doesn’t look like anything’s broken, just some serious swelling —Renata ruled, palpating the area with professional fingers. Damián flinched at the contact—. Put this cream on, go around the house naked these days, and for God’s sake, avoid getting hit. If you take another one like this, you’ll never get it up again.

—It’s not like there’s much to get up in the first place —the assistant commented under her breath, drawing a knowing little laugh from the doctor that both women tried to hide.

Damián closed his eyes. Again, he thought. And again he felt that strange current, that heat climbing up his chest when a woman laughed at him. It was not just shame. It was something else, something he was beginning to recognize.

***

The next few days were an exercise in patience. He walked around the house naked, applying the cream, waiting for his body to return to normal. On the third day, while shaking himself after peeing, he noticed it: a firm, complete erection that drew a huge smile onto his face.

Crazy with joy, and taking advantage of being alone at home, he shot toward his room determined to make up for lost time. He never made it. In the doorway, because of his height, he smashed straight into the doorknob. Right there. Again.

He fell to the floor writhing, cursing his luck, condemned to another four days of anti-inflammatories and forced abstinence. He was beginning to believe the entire universe was conspiring against his crotch.

***

When he finally managed to relieve himself without any accidents in the middle of it, something had changed in his head. He closed his eyes and, without meaning to, his mind returned to the dark kitchen, to his cousin’s knee, to the dull pain between his legs. He could still feel the impact. And, to his surprise, that memory turned him on like nothing ever had.

He went back to the hallway scene, to the two women pointing at his smallness amid laughter, to Carolina measuring the air with her fingers during lunch. Every image, which for years he would have considered a nightmare, now drove him to the edge with astonishing ease.

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

From then on, he sought out that sensation on purpose. He found videos of women who dominated, humiliated, and punished men who lay at their feet. He discovered an entire world that seemed made to measure for him, where his biggest flaw suddenly became the center of pleasure. He masturbated thinking of his cousin’s laughter, and each time it was like the first.

Out of pride, he would never admit it out loud. But when he watched a film in which a man took a blow between the legs, a secret part of him wished he had been the one getting kicked. He imagined himself standing naked before a circle of women who laughed and pointed at his manhood with those two fingers held just a couple of centimeters apart.

In those fantasies there was no pain, only surrender. A surrender so complete it left him empty and satisfied in equal measure, spilling every last drop while imagined humiliation wrapped around him like a caress.

And so, 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 that, for the first time in his life, made him feel exactly where he was supposed to be.