Male Enhancement to Male Reduction

A/N: Feedback is appreciated!

PART ONE

Either the apothecary was hotter than Mark anticipated or his nerves were doing a number on him. Mark tapped his fingers at the counter. It did not have the desired effect. In fact, it felt as if the cashier dragged on the process further.

The woman behind the counter looked between him, his driver's license, and back to the product on the counter. She raised a pierced brow as if to say "Really?"

Yeah, yeah. He didn't look the "part," the type who'd purchase the tincture between them. He avoided eye contact while she rang up the item.

"That'll be seventy dollars, sir."

He quickly pulled several bills out of his wallet. He pocketed it and left the apothecary without waiting for the receipt.

Back in his car, he rolled the small bottle between his pointer finger and thumb. The label read: Trixie Dixie's Fix-It For The Small Endowed. The truth of the matter was simple. Mark had a small penis. And while he'd argue that his penis was only slightly smaller than average, it wrecked his dating life. When it stood firm and erect, his penis nearly reached three and a half inches. When the dates discover he's neither a grower or a shower, a second date is never scheduled.

Was this it--his lucky break? And just in time, too. His friend, the very same who recommended the apothecary, set him up on a blind date later tonight.

Once home, Mark started getting ready for the date. Was he spending a longer amount of time than usual? Sure! He desperately didn't want to fuck this up. He disrobed and tossed the clothes in the hamper. He then stood in front of the mirror, taking in his naked appearance.

While not sculpted to fine detail, he sported a runner's body, broad shoulders, and a pearly white smile. His eyes narrowed in on his penis, or what little of it he could see. It stuck out like a sore thumb since he spent so much effort on the rest of his physique.

Mark grimaced and recalled his last date. Up until the big reveal, sex went well. Of course, he kept the lights off and prioritized her needs, which she didn't seem to mind. However, there are only so many times he could ignore a woman's "fuck me, fuck me." And if he were being honest with himself, he didn't join the bed for purely altruistic reasons. He wanted his dick wet, too.

It all came crashing down with "is that it?"

Well, no more! Finally, everything would come together, and he'd never have to worry about his little secret again.

He unscrewed the top and gulped it down. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, but he told himself it was worth it. With that, he started his shower and never once thought to read the tincture's instructions or warning.

It was hard, so to speak, to not keep looking at his penis. When shampooing or conditioning, he kept looking downward. His eyes stung from soap getting in them, yet he did not relent. When body washing, he kept returning downward. Was it bigger yet? He continued staring, even outside of the shower.

He opened the bathroom door to let out the accumulated steam. He placed his hand on his hips and stood in front of the mirror once more. He seemed... the same? Just a lot more damp and black hair slicked down. His eyes traveled down his happy trail and to his penis. Maybe bigger if he squinted just right and made a wish. He continued staring as if he could will the growth into existence.

Come to think of it, what's the growth even supposed to feel like?

He decided to call up Kevin, the friend who recommended the apothecary and blind date.

Kevin was only a few months younger than Mark. They met during childhood and remained friends. He was one of the few people Mark confided in about his little problem. Turns out, Kevin suffered similarly. One time during high school, they whipped their dicks out to see how they measured up to one another. Kevin, somehow, suffered a fate worse than Mark. A small consolation, but at least Mark was bigger than someone. When Kevin discovered the apothecary from an online ad and tried it himself, he passed the good fortune to Mark.

He grabbed the phone and waited for Kevin to answer.

Kevin finally answered, the sleep still present in his voice. "Yo, man, what's up? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

"No, no. Just the opposite. I'm getting ready--"

"--Right on--"

"--for it. I took the serum or tincture or whatever. When's that supposed to kick in?"

Mark heard the rustling of Kevin sitting up. "Just give it a few hours. It's gradual, so it's not gonna just spring up at ya."

Mark let out a big sigh of relief. He thanked Kevin and hung up.

PART TWO

Mark tugged at his collar as he entered the restaurant, a quaint Italian bistro tucked away in a cozy corner of the city. The warm glow of the pendant lights cast a soft, inviting ambiance, and the gentle hum of conversation floated through the air. He scanned the area for his date, Samantha.

The dim lighting proved no obstacle. Mark spotted a young woman in a maroon blouse, their agreed-upon color. His heart fluttered like a trapped bird in his chest. The blouse complemented her sun-kissed complexion. Samantha sat at a corner table, her dark curls cascading elegantly over her shoulders as she scanned the room, a small smile playing on her lips. Mark's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, his stomach twisting with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Summoning all his courage, Mark made his way over to the table, his steps hesitant yet determined. Samantha looked up as he approached, her eyes lighting up with recognition as she returned his wave with a warm smile.

"Mark?" she said, her voice soft and melodic. "It's so good to finally meet you."

Mark returned her smile, feeling a surge of relief wash over him at her welcoming demeanor. "Likewise, Samantha," he replied, pulling out a chair and sinking into it with a sense of nervous anticipation.

As they officially introduced themselves, Mark learned she was a friend of Kevin's girlfriend. She worked as a manager at a small downtown clothing store.

Mark couldn't help but admire Samantha's beauty up close. Her inviting pink lips, framed by a silver nose stud, were perfectly complemented by her rich brown eyes that sparkled with warmth and intelligence. He found himself captivated by her effortless grace, her every movement exuding a quiet confidence that drew him in like a moth to a flame.

As they perused the menu, Mark couldn't help but steal glances at Samantha. His eyes lingered on her deliciously long necklace, which dangled close to her cleavage. He tried to keep it respectful, but every so often, his eyes leered downward to her breasts to the hint of cleavage peeking out of her blouse. Maybe a bit more than a handful? He hoped to test his theory later.

Their conversation easily flowed as they exchanged pleasantries, delving into topics ranging from their favorite foods to their shared love of travel. Mark felt himself relaxing in Samantha's presence, the initial awkwardness of their meeting melting away as they found common ground and shared interests.

As they placed their orders -- two house salads, followed by chicken fettuccine and shrimp alfredo -- Mark couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation that coursed through him. He felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach; a sense of possibility and promise fought against the usual anxiety and dread.

Throughout the meal, their conversation flowed effortlessly, each exchange drawing them closer together. They laughed and joked, sharing stories and anecdotes as they savored their food and enjoyed each other's company.

His mind flashed to the new possibilities a more prominent penis could finally afford him. His mind flitted across countless images, all too tantalizing to stay focused for long unless he wanted an erection during the middle of dinner. The thought flickered to a new fantasy: Samantha, on her knees beneath the table to swallow him in secret and almost being exposed by the noises she'd keep making when she found him too big.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a fantasy. At least, not yet.

Beneath the surface, a nagging sense of insecurity lingered in the back of Mark's mind. What if the tincture didn't work? What if Samantha discovered his secret? The thought sent a shiver down Mark's spine.

Even as he felt her foot brush against him, Mark remained preoccupied by the terrible weight of the unknown. The question repeated itself endlessly: what if the tincture isn't working? He should feel something by now, right? Kevin did say the effect was gradual. But how gradual was gradual? Surely, Kevin would've mentioned something if it wouldn't work by tonight.

A quick trip to the restroom and unbuckling would put an end to the whole sordid mystery. He only mildly succeeded in scooting his chair back, halting as her foot brushed even higher. He swallowed hard and strengthened his resolve.

She batted her eyelashes and said, "Going somewhere, handsome?"

Like a moth to a flame, he didn't dare leave her light.

He forced himself to push it aside, to focus on the present moment and the woman sitting across from him. He owed it to himself and to Samantha to give this night a chance, to see where it could lead. With a renewed sense of determination, Mark leaned in closer to Samantha and left worries behind in a cocktail glass.

A couple of hours and drinks later, Mark paid the bill. While waiting for the receipt, Samantha sipped the last of her margarita and licked her lips.

Wait, what was she saying? He was too busy staring at her lips--imagining them around his dick--that he didn't hear her question.

"Erm, sorry. Repeat that?"

She brushed off his distraction with a giggle. "My place for coffee?"

Really? Her place? This was it. It was finally happening.

"Y-yeah," he stammered out and then cleared his throat. "I mean, yes. I'd love to."

After paying the tip, the pair went outside to wait for their ride to arrive. The wind blew, and she pressed against him for warmth. He prayed she couldn't hear his heartbeat ramping up. Their ride could not come soon enough.

PART THREE

This. Is. It.

In a blur, Samantha and Mark end up in her apartment. Her top lay disheveled on the floor, and his button-down became unbuttoned. He's touching and feeling and squeezing. She felt soft and heavenly as she straddled herself on top. He reaches behind to try unhooking her crimson bra. It proved too complicated, so she reached behind instead. A second later, it joined her blouse on the floor. His earlier inquiries were answered: more than a handful; brown.

He felt the familiar rush of blood downward. Yet, while the rush felt familiar, the finish line was wrong. He always imagined a larger erection to be more... more? Why did it feel like less? He tried rationalizing that a bigger dick took longer to get erect.

The moment continued; more clothing was discarded as she shimmied out of her black leggings. He felt her hands reach for his buckle, and he pushed her away to do it himself. Quickly, he opened his boxers to take a peak.

Oh, fuck.

"I, uh! Got to pee--"

He suddenly started standing up and accidentally knocked into Samantha. The tangle of bodies began stumbling to the floor. On reflex, she reached out to grab leverage as she fell. Unfortunately, it was haphazardly at Mark's waist. His horrified expression blurred as he rolled to the carpet.

Samantha caught her breath after a few moments. She broke out into good-humored, if slightly inebriated, laughter. She blinked at the following silence and turned her attention to Mark. She then followed his eyes. It took a few seconds for the reality to dawn on her. At first, she opened her mouth. She readied herself to assure him she was laughing at the fall, that she didn't even know his dick existed.

More laughter just came out.

To Mark, Samantha's laughter felt more akin to a whispered echo. He remained frozen in place, propped up into a somewhat sitting position on the carpet. He couldn't move an inch. Despite much prettier sights in the room, he couldn't remove his eyes from the horror below. No simpler way to put it: his dick shrank.

Hell existed and thrived in this woman's apartment. He clearly died downing the tincture without a second thought, and now Hell incorporated it into their torture. Or maybe a previous incarnation fucked up tremendously in a previous life. He conjured no other reason for life to dangle hope only to have it yanked away. Even worse-- an incredibly gorgeous woman bore witness.

"Wow, uh, I didn't know they got that tiny."

A new low. Mocking. And could he blame her bafflement? He didn't even know dicks got this small.

Still, his dick, what barely remained, twitched slightly at her remark. With too much already happening, he didn't question whatever wires must've been crossed for his dick to respond this way. She must've noticed it, too, given the alertness in her shifting body. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

He swallowed. When did his mouth get so dry?

"It's not. It's not usually like this." Oh geez, how many times has she heard that one? He ignored her disbelief as he scrambled to his feet.

He started bending downward to reach for a belt loop. He then felt her hand on his shoulder, applying enough pressure for him to know to stop. He looked back up, captivated once more by her rich, brown eyes and knowing smile. Slowly, he took the opposite route and continued when he noticed her not interrupting him.

Once naked and standing, she pushed him back onto the couch. He unceremoniously flopped down.

The familiar look of pity in her eyes flickered to something else. A delightfully wicked grin spread across her face.

"Honestly?" she started. "I'm amazed. I had no idea dicks could get that small. You're truly remarkable. You know that, right?"

His heart thumped loudly in his chest. She then straddled herself on his lap, her legs stretching on his. She used his shoulders to balance herself. She leaned closer, creating the slightest friction over his bump. She didn't remove her panties, black with a sharp geometric pattern. He shuddered at the sensation of her clothed body against his nudity.

"They should give some sort of record-breaking medal for how tiny it is." As she continued, she opened the space between them to look down at the little guy. The numb ached for her, stretching as far as it could, in vain, for her. Pathetic. "It's a shame the medal will probably be too big and heavy for the little guy to wear, huh?"

She began touching it to get a real feel for its lack of girth. It didn't take much for her to grip him in his entirety.

"How's the rest of you so big, and this guy is so small?"

When he didn't answer, her grip tightened to the edge of becoming painful. God, he needed more of her.

"I, uh, don't know. I mean, I--" He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Did he dare admit the truth? That he was so self-conscious about his previous dick that he tried many supposed enhancements over the years? That this time, he somehow made it worse?

She tightened further, drawing out a moan from him.

"I'm just like this," he admitted. "I like it. I mean, I like you. I mean, I..."

She must've taken pity on his confession. The grip lessened and, then, disappeared entirely. When he felt the weight of her body redistribute, he reopened his eyes. Samantha leaned away and was scrolling through her phone. Her attention was focused entirely on whatever it was she was doing. She wasn't pitying him earlier--she finally realized he wasn't worth her time of day.

Seconds passed? A minute? Mark couldn't tell. The world moved like molasses, determined to stretch the hell out for an entirety.

"Oh hey, check out this article I found." She flashed the phone in his face. "It's about world records for penises!"

He longingly tried guiding her spare hand back below. She swatted him away and then gave him a look as if he should know better.

"Don't you want to know if you're the best at something?"

He shook his head. Not this. With his new microscopic penis, he knew he'd be smaller than any man she found on her phone. Even as it still stood firmly, he knew he'd never be able to penetrate her and feel her warmth squeezed around him. Hell, he didn't even know if he was allowed to touch her. Did his new, worse status mean his hands would never more know the soft skin of a woman?

She must've seen the desperation in his eyes.

"Fine. If you don't, we can just call it a night. But let's face it, when's the next time you'll have a woman pay attention to you?"

He cast his eyes downward.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said and started sliding her finger across the phone's screen.

He reached down, and he began trying to stroke himself in small, half-hearted attempts. He then noticed how his hand dwarfed his dick.

"Wow--look how big that guy is!" She pushed the phone in his face again. It lingered longer this time, not allowing Mark to look away. "See that, 13 and a half inches. He'd break me in half, and you're barely a tenth of his size."

His face flushed. Would that have been him if the tincture actually worked? Thirteen inches? He let out the slightest half pain and pleasure moan.

"Come on, let's see where you rank at the bottom."

He felt his heart quicken in anticipation. Did he really want to be the best? Even if it meant being at the very bottom?

"Well, shit. I hate to break it to you. Turns out there is some poor unfortunate soul actually smaller than you."

His heart dropped, and his fist quickened.

"Man, you can't even be the best at being small." She smirked down at him. "Aw, come on, why are you crying?"

He blinked his eyes until the faint tears vanished.

"Do you actually care about not being that small? You really want to be the smallest for me? You're so sweet."

He couldn't, he couldn't.

Couldn't what? Couldn't be the smallest? Couldn't disappoint her? God, he felt so close.

"Say it." She pressed her spare hand on his below, stopping his pitiful movements. "Tell me how small your shrimp dick is. Tell me how you want your pathetic excuse for a cock even tinier. Then you get to come."

He breathed out the faintest answer before repeating louder. "I'm small, I'm small. It's so tiny you didn't even notice it. I didn't even notice it, and I'm the one it's attached to." The weight of her hand lifted, and he continued with furious strokes. "But it's not even good at being the worst. It can't even do that right."

"Say it! Say you want to be smaller."

"I want it. I need to be the smallest," he said and then finally realized the genuine desire behind his voice. Over and over, repeating himself, feeling the heat build and build until--the tiniest spurt of come trickled down. Yet for him, in this moment, it was everything.

Mark wouldn't want to admit that one of the worst mistakes he made in life resulted in one of his best nights. Truth be told, it was a pretty pathetic admission. For now, new, uncharted nights awaited him.