Back at my place, I'd just tossed my gym bag's contents into the laundry when the buzzer rang, and I grinned, seeing my favorite delivery man on the video. I buzzed him up, looking forward to seeing that buff, tight body in the skintight underarmor shirts and lycra shorts he always wore, tightly outlining his own thick sausage and nicely-stuffed sac, all kept perfectly smooth and hairless.
I'd been calling him for a few years, a friend having given me the number. He'd been maybe nineteen then, and had just started getting into lifting himself. He'd asked me tons of questions, and I'd encouraged him when he'd started to make real progress. When I answered the door shirtless once, he'd talked me into hitting some poses for him, and he'd squeezed my arms a little. "Dude, I'm straight and all, but man...you're just awe-inspiring," he'd told me at the time, clearly hard.
I'd gotten off on it myself, and over the next few months we'd gone into the full-bore muscle worship stuff. In addition to the squeezing, he'd started always wanting to measure my arms or legs or something. I'd started buzzing him up while only wearing my posing briefs, and he'd seen how huge my package was. He'd insisted on measuring that, too, and ever since then, I'd started just answering the door in the nude.
I'd talked him into letting me measure him back, to use as a motivational tool, and apparently it had worked. When he had time, he loved stripping down to get measured, eagerly showing off and grinning as the numbers kept going up. Turned out he had a real nice dick himself, a good thick ten-incher, but we never fooled around - just occasionally sharing a bowl and jerking off on each other, and even that only a few times.
Today, I was pumped, showered and freshly waxed. He was shirtless, in loose khaki shorts for a change, but showing off his own toned, muscular torso and thick arms. He'd gotten a lot bigger since I'd known him (and was still growing), but he was still only half my size.
"Hey, man," he grinned, hefting up his backpack. "Lookin' good, bud," he reached out squeeze an arm, and I gave him a bicep flex. "Sadly, my stash isn't," he unzipped it his bag. "Only really got the ditch stuff today," he apologized, spreading out some baggies of weed that didn't look too great, all brown and dry-looking.
"Well...wait, what are those?" I pointed at some with yellow stickers that I saw in the bag still, one of them taped back shut after having been torn open.
"Oh, uh…well…" he pushed a few of them out. They looked good, covered in little red hairs. "These are some great weed, but turns out they've been laced with something. I had a few puffs, and, uh...well, here, just look." He undid his shorts and dropped them a bit. He wasn't wearing any underwear, but that thick schlong I'd always enjoyed sucking on and being fucked by looked like it had pulled up in him a bit - it was definitely shorter. "Fuckers must have laced it with dick-shrinker."
Rival drug syndicates had been doing that lately, trying to discredit their competitors. Stories in the media had told of drugs being found laced with all sorts of crazy things ranging from mildly annoying to super-shitty. He had his own sources, though, and prided himself on never having sold any tainted stuff.
"Damn, dude..." I reached out to touch it, so used to being naked around him that it didn't occur to me to ask. "It still works okay, though, right?" Luckily, he didn't seem to be offended, and just stood there watching as I gave it a few strokes, feeling it start to firm up. The torpedo head was still like it always was, and he hardened up nice and easy, but at full boner he only had about seven inches of shaft, down from nine or so! I let go and stood back up, feeling my own cock hardening up, poking out in front of me...now nearly twice as big as his!
"Yeah, it all still works," he shrugged, pulling his pants back up, "s'just a little smaller. Kind of embarrassing, though...s'why I'm in the baggy shorts, you know? Anyway...you can have it for free if you really want it," he shrugged, unable to hide his slight blush. "Just don't tell anybody it came from me; it would fuck my reputation."
"Huh..." I thought about it for a minute, rubbing my dick. Smoke some weed and get a smaller dick? That didn't sound like bad thing at all to me. "Fuck it. I can stand to lose a few inches. Gimme two of those."
"You sure, bud?" he raised a shaven brow. "You know it doesn't grow back, right?"
"Yeah. It's cool," I nodded. "I like the idea. Too big t'fuck now, as it is." I counted out the cash and handed it to him, then went ahead and broke open one of the containers to break up some of the weed, a little nervous and excited.
"Dude...I never thought a dude hung like you would wanna give it up. I love havin' a big dick, but...fuck..." he unzipped his shorts again, his boner coming back to full erection, "you gotta let me watch, man. I totally wanna shrink your dick."
"Sure," I shrugged, packing the bowl.
"Hold on, lemme measure some," he pulled a cloth tape measure out of his backpack. I stood a moment and let him measure my cock, flexing those muscles to make it plump out as big as possible. "Fuck, man, twelve and a half. I swear, you've got the biggest dick I've ever seen."
"Not for long," I sparked the bowl, taking it rapidly, in a few big pulls. The weed tasted fine, no real difference from the normal stuff, and my head got good and fuzzy right away - good stuff!
"Alright, gimme a double-biceps pose," he winked, snapping his tape measure.
I grinned, standing up straight and going into the pose, legs at shoulder distance apart, back straight, arms up and flexed, looking straight ahead, fake grin. We had a few poses he'd have me hit, like I was up on stage, fake smile and all, and would measure me as I hit them. I'd try my best to stay hard the whole time, unlike when I was actually onstage, and desperatly hoping my posing briefs would hold. Today was no different, but I did keep wanting to look down and see if it was working yet.
"Nope," he lightly slapped me on the cheek when I'd try. "Look up." Also part of our routine - I liked to pretend to be a dumb animal. Not getting to look was kind of a turn-on, though, especially when, after measuring my arms, he decided I needed another bowl. "Not small enough yet, bro," he'd said, packing another bowl while keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn't look. I could feel it pretty well, though, and couldn't be all that much smaller yet.
"Gimme a most-muscular." I pulled my arms down, pumping my fist into my other hand down at my groin, pecs and delts popping. I imagined how I looked standing there, flexing, pumped, shiny...eyes red and droopy...dick shrinking. I could feel it, all tight down there, like it was trying to burst out of the skin. There was a hot warmth all though my dick even up inside me, and a pulling from within. I could definitely feel it pulling up in there but couldn't tell how much. I wondered how small he'd make it. What did he think was the appropriate size for me, anyway? It was pretty obvious he'd wanna be bigger than me, so down to at least seven inches. That would be pretty good, I figured, and if I felt it getting too small, it's not like I had to smoke it.
"No looking down," he slapped me lightly on the cheek again. "Bad boy!"
"Yessir!" I snapped back up, staring ahead like I was supposed to. I couldn't really complain; I was the one who'd told him about a million times that looking down was the most common mistake guys made in their posing routines.
"Just for that you need another one," he packed me another bowl and held it up to my lips. I inhaled it when he told me to, holding it in and exhaling. "Good boy," he said as I finished it. I glowed...it was weird...normally I wouldn't care, but him calling me that made me feel oddly good...probably just 'cuz I was high, but...I wanted to be a good boy. "Victory," he ordered.
I raised my arms in the air, feet together, head slightly tilted back, gut in. He checked my pecs again, then ran the tape around my midsection in a few places, cooing appreciatively. "Another quarter inch this week. Good boy!" he'd say, and I'd glow. "Thigh n' calf," he ordered, and I changed pose.
"Yeah...real nice," he muttered, measuring my thighs, my calves, my glutes. "Gettin' better...good boy..." He wasn't really even saying it to me, just saying it more to himself, but I could still feel myself glow at the comment. Usually I'd say something back like, "Yeah, been workin' on 'em" or something, but we didn't usually have this whole submissive dynamic, so I stayed silent. "Hmm...hammies haven't gotten any bigger, though. You need to work on those, boy."
"Yessir," I muttered, making the mental note. I did always have a problem with them.
"Oh, you lost your boner. That's not good," he looked down at it.
Crap, I'd lost concentration and let it go down. I got it hard again in a few seconds but I felt like an idiot for having lost it.
"Bad boy. You'll need another bowl, then," he held it up to my lips.
I sighed, but in my current submissive headspace, he was right - punishment via further de-masculation was appropriate. I took a long pull, coughing a little but returning immediately to my pose, feeling my package tighten again.
"Bend over the couch," he ordered, "and let me get at those glutes." This one was new, but I did it, legs apart, toes pointed in, ass spread open and ready. He took a few measurements, but I think he felt what he needed to do, and I felt his cock bump up against my ass in a few places. He seemed hesitant to put it in. "I shrank your dick, bro...big dude, bigger'n me, and now you're smaller there...measured in at six and a half. I made ya smaller'n me..." He pressed it against my asshole, taking one big breath before finally just sliding the damn thing in.
I took it, grunting a little, clearly not used to it - and I wasn't; even down a few inches he was still bigger then any guy who'd ever fucked me before. "Oh, good boy," he said to me, and I felt my ass just relax, letting him in as I felt the brief rush of pleasure.
He felt just as big as ever, if maybe with a slightly faster rythym now. I ground back against him, helping him get his cock all the way up in me, hitting my spot. "Yeah...nice..." he panted, gripping my muscled ass and pulling into me, again and again until he finally blew his load into a man's ass for the first time.
"Good boy," he panted, pulling the rubber off, his cock flopping back down between his legs. "Damn, bro...never fucked a dude before," he shook his head, still seeming amazed he'd done it. "Somethin' about shrinkin' ya down, man...fuck, that made me feel powerful as hell. You're such a fuckin' beast and I fucked you in the ass without even a peep from ya," he looked up at me, smirking. "I knew you was queer but didn't think you'd be such an easy hole t'bitch out."
For a moment I felt a flash of anger, but, then, it was gone as soon as it came, replaced with just a sinking feeling. He had made me his bitch, kinda...he'd shrank my manhood and then fucked me good. If that didn't count, not much would. I just hung my head. "Yeah, I guess so," I'd said, sounding dour.
"Aww, it's okay. You were a real good boy." I looked up, the smile spreading across my face. "And, you know," he winked as he pulled his shorts back up, "I get off at two tonight. I killed at the gym this week, gonna want you t'measure me, an', uh...if you're good maybe I'll fuck ya again," he smirked.
"Yessir," I'd grinned stupidly, high as a kite and still glowing from the fucking.
"Then seeya at two. Be a good boy and smoke some more of that before I get back," he winked, snagging his backpack and heading out the door in a rush.
After he left I stayed naked, getting a kick out of it, at some dinner and crashed on the couch, my muscles sore and still pretty high. I watched TV for most of the rest of the night, stoned out of my mind and playing idly with my shrunken boner. I measured it once I could get hard again - six and a half inches, just like he'd said! Still a big around as ever, looking like a soda can sticking out of my crotch, but I loved it. It was half what it had been; it was...average! I grinned, thinking how awesome it was going to be to have a cock I could fuck with. Maybe if I showed it off a little I could lose the nicknames, too. I hadn't been this happy since I broke 800 on the squat!
Around ten I got a text from my guy. He'd never sent me one before unless I'd called him over, so was a little puzzled when I went to read it. All it said was, "Be a good boy". I grinned, chuckling a little. That had been fun, I thought, my eyes darting over to the half-empty baggie. I felt the impulse to have some, but hesitated. "Eh...what's another inch or so?" I figured, and packed up another bowl. Average was 5.2, so I could stand to lose another inch, right? Once the tightness subsided, I measured again - 5.4. Not bad.
Then again around midnight. "Be a good boy." I was still kind of high from the last time, and just did it without really thinking about it, high enough that I forgot to measure my dick afterward.
I mostly forgot about it, just lazing around the couch watching TV, and almost didn't even notice when the buzzer rang. Once I did, I lurched to my feet, my body feeling huge and heavy, and stumbled over to hit the door button. I opened my front door an inch or two, then stumbled back over to the couch.
The door opened a minute later and he came in. "Hey there, boy," he said to me, still wearing what he had been earlier, his shirt tucked into the belt of his shorts. "You been good?"
"Yessir," I nodded, grinning, my tongue feeling heavy and making me lisp a little bit.
"So where're we at?" he asked rhetorically, coming over near me, his eyes locked on my crotch. "Yeah, looks a lot smaller," he grinned. "You were a good boy." I felt that little rush and grinned widely. "I still think you need another bowl or two, though," he nodded toward the weed. Obediently, I started crumbling some up, packing it and sparking it. "Good boy," he nodded. I loved that feeling so much. "Now hop up n' get hard; I wanna get some pictures."
I got up to my feet and reached down, not looking at how small it was now, just feeling that there was barely anything left to my cock. "Hit some poses, boy," he ordered, so I grinned and flexed my arms while he took pictures. "Yeah, real nice and small...barely a dick at all, boy. Real good." I hit some more poses, he took some more pictures. Once he was finished he unzipped his pants and said, "On your knees and open up."
Normally I'd have laughed, or maybe smacked him one, but I just couldn't help myself. I needed to obey him, to have that dick in my mouth the moment I saw it. My knees buckled and I gazed up at him, his nice seven-incher jutting out above me, and opened up. "Yeah, take it, boy," he said as I took his cock in my mouth. "Suck the cock of the man who destroyed yours. Suck your master's dick, slaveboy." I looked up at him for a moment as he said it. "Yeah, that's right, slaveboy. You know you are. You need to serve a real cock, doncha boy?"
"Mmmffmf," I nodded, already knowing it was true. Fuck, it was totally true...I felt like a total slave, like I just needed to obey him and his man-cock, the symbol of his authority. I'd let him take mine from me, my great staff now barely a twig, and so deserved this, deserved to be humbled and humiliated before him.
He pulled his cock out so I could take another hit, then another, and it happened while I was sucking him. It was just a tingle at first, a little tickle around my tiny cockhead, and then a pressure as it pulled back further, my internal cock tissues tightening up even further, and then, with a pop, it slipped inside! I couldn't feel my balls at all anymore, just the tingly feeling as my little cockhead rubbed against the skin of the fold it had made as it pulled up in me.
I shuddered a little as it happened, and he noticed, pulling out and looking down. "Stand up," he ordered, cock sticking out proudly. I did, keeping my head respectfully bowed, staring at his boner. He was more interested in my crotch, bending down to peer at it closely. He stuck a finger up inside the little pucker, feeling my cockhead just inside, then pulled the skin apart with his fingers to get a look at it. "Oh, it's so cute and perfect," he slapped my ass. "Back on your knees, dickless slaveboy," he ordered, and I went right back to sucking on his luscious cock, glowing.
I couldn't have been happier. Not only was I dickless, but, even better, he had called me his slave!
