Humiliate Me, Please?: An Anonymous Discussion of Micropenises, Cuckoldry, and Hot Sex
The following article is a personal essay written by an anonymous contributor. It has been edited for length and clarity, and published with consent from the author.
My journey into realizing my enjoyment of the erotic humiliation I take part in today began when I was five years old, after a visit to my pediatrician. Blissfully unaware of why I was making this particular visit to the doctor, I was told by my mother that “we’re just going to make sure everything is going okay” regarding my physical development… a rather vague way to describe the reason that we were actually making the trip.
After a short time waiting in the examination office, my doctor greeted me. I remember she was tall, blonde, and athletic, with a warm smile and comforting voice. After some poking, prodding, and a brief basic examination, she asked me to remove my pants and underwear. My heart sank. I had just started kindergarten, and all I could focus on in that moment was how my new friends loved to make fun of others for their ‘unfortunate mishaps’ on the playground, involving the unintentional reveal of their underwear or private parts (we were a wild bunch). My doctor could tell I was struggling with her request, but with gentle words of encouragement from her kind voice, I relented.
As soon as my underwear dropped to the floor, I saw the expression on her face change dramatically. Wide-eyed, and with a mildly amused voice, she remarked, “Oh, ah, I see now.”
She smiled at me with a reassuring grin and let me retreat back to the safety of my clothes. Soon afterwards, she consulted my mother in a different room down the hall. When they returned, my doctor explained to me how I basically have a completely random genetic abnormality called a ‘micropenis.’ She assured me this would not affect me as a person or how I should go about life.
My diagnosis would not truly hit me until I reached middle school. One ill-fated afternoon in gym class, I had that “oh no, I’m naked” dream come to life in the most miserable way possible. In the days leading up, we, the boys, began changing in a locker room for the first time. Inevitably, it was not long before the bullies noticed how I had no apparent bulge in my underwear in the same way that other boys did. I quickly became the target of jokes and gossip. Though to this day I am unsure, I believe the gossip involving myself spread to the two girls in my story, who made the afternoon in question an unforgettable one — in the worst way possible.
After the bell dismissing our class sounded, I was approached by two girls I thought were so beautiful: tall, blonde, and athletic, just like my doctor, and with large boobs (far larger than other women). They had caught me staring at them earlier during gym class, but before I could escape to the boys’ locker room, they called out, “Hey, you.”
The girls grabbed me, pushed me into a corner in a seldom-travelled corridor behind the gym, and stripped me naked. They wasted no time in remarking how tiny my penis was, calling me “button dick” and telling me how their little brothers — who were just toddlers — had bigger penises than me. The taller girl with green eyes held me still. Even while the second girl, who looked to be the stronger of the two, was not touching me, I still could not fight off the other. I was too weak, and any resistance would have been pathetic. She was not even trying that hard.
They grinned and laughed hysterically. Eventually, though, they yielded, but I was left there stunned and nearly motionless, on my knees and without my clothes on. I had never been more humiliated in my life. “Inadequate,” “useless,” and “pathetic” are words I internalized in the aftermath. However, this was the time in my life I had begun to masturbate, and my misadventure in the gym was the closest experience I had to physical intimacy at the time.
So, whenever I had the opportunity at home, with my family absent, I would think back to that moment and begin to pleasure myself. I would remember even the tiniest details (no pun intended) of the ordeal, deeply immersing my consciousness back to that moment. I got off on it. Thus, I had discovered one of my favourite kinks — small penis humiliation — and the rest was history.
Looking back and reflecting on these two key experiences, I realize now that my doctor had not reacted with unprofessionalism, but rather, with genuine surprise. Micropenises are not common and, so, her amused facial expression, along with a sort of high-pitched and concerned tone throughout my examination, was likely not said with bad intentions. In fact, after seeing her for another thirteen years, I understand that she only had my best interests at heart, truly caring about my development.
As for the two girls in middle school, the magnitude of what they had done to me did not hit me until college, when I became heavily involved with the on-campus #MeToo Movement and gained an awareness for social justice issues that, to this day, I still fight hard for and feel so passionately about. I was legitimately sexually assaulted, and there is no excuse for it. But, for personal reasons, I will not re-visit that moment in a bid to seek justice for myself. It triggers me, and there are too many complex emotions surrounding that memory. Rather, I use it to further my empathy for others and as a common shared experience with other survivors to build solidarity and a strong feeling of mutual understanding.
Six years ago, I travelled to my favourite tropical paradise, Belize. There, I felt an ardent desire for sex and emotional intimacy. It must have been the serene blue-green waters, warm ocean air, and all the tropical fruity cocktails I consumed. I stayed at an exceptional, romantic, five-star resort where I had an entire beachfront bungalow all to myself. It was the last and largest unit in a row of other bungalows, each with a private outdoor shower area in the backyard, fitted and appointed for even a royal couple. “Idyllic” was the word that popped into mind; perfect for spending time with that special someone. It was there on my first evening, right after sunset, when I discovered my other favourite kink: cuckolding.
A coconut tree outside the window of my bungalow caught my attention. I went outside to check if it was fruiting, or if any coconuts had fallen beneath it. Sure enough, there were plenty on the ground and, after leaning over to pick up a fallen fruit and investigate further, I attempted to pry it open. I was completely transfixed on the coconut I had just found; it took me a few moments to realize the two sets of legs appearing through a thicket of tropical brush, emerging from the neighbouring bungalow.
My eyes followed the moving legs into what looked to be a bathroom. For a strange design reason unknown to me, the bathroom had glass window panels as a façade on that section of the cabin. Perhaps the architect was feeling cheeky. I could see everything from my crouched vantage point. Shocked at what I was witnessing, I could not help but stare at the naked couple. I knew it was wrong, but I lacked the necessary self-control back then. I saw my perfect woman, the incarnation of what I fantasized about each time I masturbated. She was tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and athletic with enormous boobs (sound familiar?).
She was accompanied by a shredded, complete stud of a man. As tall as an NBA player, jet black skin, muscular, and, most obviously, a huge penis. Like, really, really huge.
He threw her around and penetrated her like nothing I had seen in porn before. She appeared to love every second of it, moaning louder and louder in ecstasy as the physicality between them escalated. The first place my mind went while watching the beautiful couple make love was to my pediatrician. I always thought she was gorgeous, and I had emotionally attached myself to her over the years. I remembered the feelings of inadequacy from middle school, too. As I helplessly continued to stare, seemingly anchored to the sand by an invisible rock to my knees, I was intrigued by my feelings of being too pathetic and useless to ever rock a woman’s world like how this man was. After all, I couldn’t even penetrate one inch while hard.
I didn’t quite understand my feelings at the time, but I knew that as soon as I could, I needed to return to my bungalow and get off to the hot and steamy sex I had just witnessed. And I did. It was the best release I had ever felt while climaxing, and I was not even having sex with a woman.
Though cuckoldry has grown rapidly in popularity recently, it has existed for hundreds of years and has a dark history in the United States. Enslavement of Black African men resulted not only in the exploitation of their labour, but also manifested in sexual oppression. Slave masters and their wives would force male slaves to act as ‘bulls’ and have non-consensual sex with the women, to the husband’s sexual gratification. This would often be a death sentence for a slave, after the scene was over. I believe cuckolding has the power to right the wrongs of the past, however.
When safely pursued by consenting adults, it can bring people together. From the woman’s perspective, this is an opportunity to receive satisfaction from another man, that her primary male partner cannot provide her. For the ‘bull,’ the pleasure lies in seeing the descendants of their ancestors’ adversaries locked into a corner, watching him have sex with his wife and not being able to do anything about it. The cuck feels a sense of compersion, feeling mentally fulfilled when his partner is receiving pleasure from somebody else… Think of it as the opposite of jealousy.
Over the past few years, after much reflecting, researching, and speaking with a trusted kink therapist, I learned to accept my kinks. I learned how they are perfectly healthy, surprisingly normal, and acceptable (given bilateral, or, sometimes, in my case, tri-lateral) when full consent is given and boundaries are agreed to. Yes, even if mainstream society believes otherwise.
Cuckolds are diverse in race, socio-economic background, nationality, and many other categories, but there are common traits most of us share. Typically, these are characteristics like small penises and a propensity to be over-protective of the females in our early lives, but there are no hard and fast rules. It still fascinates me how I was so jealous when other men or boys had the full attention of my mother and girls that I crushed on in school, hating them because I falsely thought that they were trying to take them away from me. Eventually, I grew up to enjoy what I was essentially afraid of in the first place.
Through the amazing support of my therapist, I have been able to proudly take ownership of my penis and re-claim the shame that society projects onto men like me, by getting off on our own shame. In this way, I turn negative shame that serves no sexual purpose into shame that I control for my benefit, and that of my partners. The moral of the story is that if you accept something, it cannot be used against you.
I would like to end with a piece of advice: though not for everyone, I encourage all couples to experience the two pillars of erotic humiliation, cuckoldry and small penis humiliation, at least once. You never know if you are going to enjoy it, and you may just be surprised.
