Finding Nemo - Small Penis Humiliation

My wife Rachel and I have always had a playful dynamic when it comes to my size. I’m a grower, not a fighter, and when I’m flaccid, I’m… well, "compact" is a generous word. We’ve turned it into a massive part of our foreplay; the teasing builds this incredible tension that usually ends with me being more than ready to go.

Last night, we were lounging on the couch, and things started getting a bit handsy. She reached into my boxers, did a little "search and rescue" mission, and then stopped. She looked down, then looked me dead in the eye with this wide-eyed, vacant stare that I didn't recognize at first.

"Hi there," she whispered in a pitch-perfect Dori impression.

I started laughing, but she didn't break character. She peered into my waistband like she was looking into a deep-sea trench.

"Don't be scared, little guy," she cooed, gently prodding me. "Are you lost? Are you looking for your family? It's okay, I'm a natural helper! Just keep swimming... just keep swimming..."

I was losing it. There is something uniquely humiliating and incredibly hot about your wife treating your manhood like a confused tropical fish.

"Hey, little guy!" she chirped, giving me a light flick. "I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine and he shall be my Squishy. Come on, out of the coral! Don't be shy!"

The combination of the ridiculous voice and the focused attention on how small I was in that moment hit the "override" button in my brain. I went from zero to a hundred instantly. It wasn't long before the "little guy" wasn't so little anymore, and Rachel’s Dori impression shifted into a very satisfied smirk.

"Oh look," she whispered, her voice dropping back to her normal, sultry tone. "I found him. And he's definitely not a minnow anymore."

Safe to say, the "Search for Nemo" ended in a very successful mission.