The Biggest Dick

"Oh, honey," he said softly, "we can't leave just yet. There are a couple more rounds to this game. We're on a roll now, and when we win tomorrow, we'll make even more money! It's only for a day or two, tops, and then we'll catch the next plane home. Heck, we might charter a plane."

"But Dave...," Brenda's voice quavered, "you... we... we won, right? Your dick, it really showed them. It was great. But we should be done now. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Just one more day, babe," Dave cajoled "One more day. We did win a lot of money, but it's still not enough. How can we tell Evan that we chickened out, when one more day would have more than paid for Stanford. After we win tomorrow, we'll have over $200,000. That will pay his way, in style. Maybe replace your old Tercel too. And then we'll quit, I promise. Just one more day." Did he really intend to keep that promise? Dave wasn't sure. Best to see where things stood after tomorrow's victory.

Brenda was silent. He could tell she was unconvinced. But (he sensed), she also knew him well enough to see that in this mood, he would never let it go—that he would keep badgering and pestering and debating and wearing her down until he got his way. All night if he had to. She clearly didn't have the energy for that kind of fight, not right now. And she probably hoped that Dave's arguments were correct, that it was safe for her to put her trust in him rather than in her own instincts. She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "OK," she managed to get out, "let's do this for Evan," and gave Dave a weak, unconvincing smile.

-----

Another day, another check. As soon as they arrived, a production assistant handed Dave the next $20,000, 'just for playing.' And he knew that when he won a second consecutive victory, the payout would be much higher, $100,000. This could get addictive! Still, he was even more excited to be in the driver's seat. Really the idea of quitting after day one had been preposterous. As challengers, they had been at the mercy of fate. But now, as reigning champions, strategy came into play. He and Brenda had the chance to choose their patsies, picking out a guy who was bound to fall before Dave's hunk of meat. They were finally in control.

As a result, his mood was... well, cocky, when they began perusing the four challenger couples. Strolling slowly from one platform to another, the pair exuded (he hoped) an air of cool detachment. After all, he was the reigning Biggest Dick—he didn't have anything to prove, these guys did. Still, he and Brenda agreed right off the bat that couple number one was out of the running. That guy looked like the brother of sasquatch: he was huge and hairy. The kind of guy you'd believe could play basketball center and middle linebacker. There was no way Dave wanted to face off against his piece. Just because he was cocky, Dave told himself, didn't mean he was stupid.

Couple number two looked more promising. The man, Eddie, was barrel chested, but he was also a shrimp—hardly a notch over five feet. Even his scrawny little wife Tracy had a few inches on him. Brenda poked Dave in the ribs, signaling that this guy was bound to be proportionally diminutive in other areas. Dave wasn't so sure, though. He thought he had heard somewhere that small guys sometimes compensated with big packages. Like, maybe it was an evolutionary thing. And after all, Eddie must have something down there, or he wouldn't have come on the show. The man's pugnacious, upthrust jaw certainly suggested an unexplained degree of confidence. Somehow the whole thing felt fishy, like a setup of some kind.

They lingered long over couple number three—mostly because this was the woman Dave wanted to fuck. Ellen was a long, lithe Asian tigress (though her accent suggested she'd been born in LA). Her almond eyes, olive skin, and oval face were flawless. He could just envision how he would tug on her long, silky black mane as the machine cracked her ass open for him. Moreover, contra some stereotypes, the darts in the fitted bust of her dress revealed that she possessed a good-sized rack underneath. That would make a nice change from dainty Amy the day before. Dave tried to guess what Ellen's nipples would look like. Dark and knobby, he thought, and his fingers twitched just a bit.

The real clincher for Dave, though, was that she was classy. Heck, her husband was too. More of a power couple than most of the schleps they'd seen on this show so far. Her clean, black, A-line dress had clearly come from a designer label, and cost far more than it should have. But Brent, her husband, was a little intimidating. Maybe a little too close of a match for Dave, really. From his expensive tailored suit to his square jaw to his calculating gray eyes, he gave off the air of someone to be taken seriously, of someone who could be just a little bit dangerous. Dave thought he could embarrass Brent, but he had to admit that he didn't really know he could.

Couple number four was puzzling. Here it was the woman who was small. Kim was no midget, but she was one of the shortest people Dave had ever seen, like a china doll brought to vivacious life. She even had on a flowered top and short, perky, frilly little skirt to complete the effect. Paul, by comparison, was pretty darn ordinary. Clearly life had not been especially kind to him. He was average size, or just a bit bigger, with a muddy-blue T-shirt stretched over his husky build and slumping shoulders. His complexion was on the dark side, and he had a broad, shaved head that apparently always wore a hangdog expression. This tiny, energetic female and stolid, blockish male made an odd pairing. They were hard to figure out. Maybe they complemented one-another.

Brenda and Dave retreated to their corner to confer. They still couldn't agree about short Eddie—Brenda was convinced he was the easy win, while Dave still thought something was up. And anyway (he did not say out loud), the man's wife Tracy was really kind of frowzy. Dave made a half-hearted pitch for Ellen, er, Brent, and Brenda looked at him like he was crazy. Dave quickly gave in on this one—Ellen would still be in the pool tomorrow, he thought, and it would be better strategy to fuck her then.

Silent and at an impasse, Dave suddenly had a thought. Of course: here he was thinking with his dick, when this was the time to use his brain. They were focused too much on the men, and their physical appearance. Maybe they should really be considering the women. And one, in particular: Kim. The point being, she was tiny! There was no way a cock of any serious size was going to fit inside her! So Paul must not really be that well hung. Heck, probably the couple just thought his dick was big because of the contrast with her pocket-sized little cunt.

Before he proposed this theory, however, Dave contemplated a moment longer. How did he feel spending today's conquest on Kim? After all, if her canal was that small, then surely he wouldn't fit himself. Was that a problem? Amy's tightness had put him off at first, but in the end, forcing his way through her resistance had been kind of a rush. So now, if he had to give this little lady a good stretching out too, well, that wouldn't be so bad, would it? Likewise, although he didn't really want to goose Kim up where it hurt, at least if (or when?) he did, she would know without a doubt that she'd been fucked. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Dave liked the idea of a girl that couldn't accommodate him. Once he had pushed in as far as he possibly could, when the head of his cock met the unyielding wall of Kim's cervix, he'd know for certain that she had nothing left to surrender to him. He'd know his seed was at its destination. And she would never forget that he had owned her cunt, all the fucking way.

And, he mused, in the warm glow of this notion, Kim most certainly seemed fuckable. Under other circumstances, the mere size of this little vixen would have been tremendously-exciting. With a girl like that, even a guy with Dave's physique could execute the sort of athletic Kama-Sutra moves that he and Brenda had never been able to pull off. In this setting, though, that didn't matter so much (he just hoped the machine could be calibrated to a body so small).

But Kim had other charms as well. Her strawberry-blonde complexion wasn't his ideal choice, but it did exude a certain fresh, wholesome charm. And while he preferred a woman with a degree of maturity, he appreciated the way Kim's dancing hazel eyes, electric energy, and miniature frame injected a note of youthfulness into her womanhood. She was fairly flat-chested, unfortunately, but then her tits would only be the warm-up course anyway. Yes, he thought, more than anything else, her appeal was that vivaciousness she had, that spark. Dave licked his lower lip as he contemplated how much he would enjoy dousing that spark, as he worked his cock inside her diminutive cunt and she came to terms with the inevitability of his victory.

Leaving these other considerations aside, he laid out his dick-size theory to Brenda. She got his point, but remained skeptical. Paul was no specimen of masculinity—in fact, he had a sort of sad-sack presence on stage. And yet, there was also a solidity to him, a gravity, that indicated he should not be dismissed as a lightweight. Dave persevered. He was so confident in his assessment now, so proud of his counter-intuitive thinking, that he didn't really register her objections. At last she acquiesced. What did she really know about cocks anyway? Dave wrote "couple 4" on the placard and handed it to Delilah.

-----

This is already starting to feel routine, Dave thought. Why did the idea of dropping my drawers make me so nervous yesterday? He looked across to the other platform and saw cute little Kim (not even coming up to Paul's chest, he noted) stroking her husband's arm, and then going up on tiptoe to whisper something in the direction of his ear. With her feet stretched that way and her back arched slightly, her skirt rode up, showing off the upper reaches of her delicate thighs. We made the right choice, Dave thought. I am going to have so much fun fucking her. This time I just need to slow it down a bit, and really get all the good out of her.

When Dave's cock came out into the lights, it was already pretty stiff. The smile he directed toward the cameras was considerably more honest than the one he had worn the day before. Strangely, however, no one seemed to be looking at him, or his prick. The eyes of the audience, of Rocky, of Brenda (!), all seemed drawn off to his right. Toward Paul and Kim's platform. Almost against his will, Dave's head swiveled and his eyes followed their collective gaze.

Paul was nearly overweight, definitely burly. There was a good layer of fat on the man, belly, arms, and chest; yet under that you could tell he had some serious muscle too. His figure was not what had caught everyone's attention, though. No, that was Paul's cock. Flaccid, as far as Dave could tell, the glorious uncircumcised penis curved out and down, in a gracious arc, looking like a big unpeeled banana. Like a giant banana. Like one of those bananas you don't buy because it's weirdly big. Like the biggest damn banana Dave had ever seen. Rocky was saying something about it, Dave knew, but the blood was rushing in his ears again, and he couldn't hear what it was.

Then the screens came up and the timer began counting down. Brenda knelt before him and looked up, cheeks red. The mask of complacency she had worn so successfully the last couple of days had evaporated in an instant, and he saw fear written in her widened eyes, flared nostrils, and arched brows. She definitely wasn't panicking, but he could tell her gorge was rising. She hesitated and shifted around for a moment, and he didn't understand why. What is she doing?, he thought, she needs to start sucking! Then he realized what was up. She had quickly pulled her arms inside her blouse, unhooked her bra, and looped her arms out of the straps. That done—cameras be damned—she literally ripped the buttoned front of her blouse open and allowed her bra to drop down into her lap. Her sweet, sweet tits spilled out, seeming to fill Dave's field of vision. He had definitely not seen that coming.

Her breasts were undeniably sexy, but that wasn't what this was all about. No, Dave got Brenda's message loud and clear. What she was telling him was that in this moment of crisis, they were in it together—that she was willing to do everything she possibly could, willing to strip away the dignity she had hoped to preserve, in order to try to help him win. And it was that thought, even more than the view, which really began to pump up Dave's dick.

Brenda clutched his balls in one hand and massaged them. Her large, puffy nipples began to firm up as she made her mouth into an O and guzzled him down. Rhythmically, bewitchingly, she swayed in and out, massaging the skin of his penis, flicking her tongue enticingly over the ridge around his circumcised head. This time she continued to hold his gaze while she worked his cock—her upturned eyes and batting lashes conveying (as intended) a captivatingly coy expression. Her dainty freckles blended into the excited flush of her face. Beneath her chin, he could see her breasts swaying to and fro, in time with her insistent, driving pace. A tingle shot through him as he noticed that with each motion, her nipples were brushing tenderly, rhythmically against the dangling edges of cloth from her sundered blouse. Tiny bubbles frothed around her lips as she worked him, in and out, faster and faster. Dave was letting her run this show, but his prick couldn't resist thrusting to meet her, demanding to go even deeper. There was no way she could throat him, but she suppressed her gag reflex as best she could and took in more of him than she ever had before, probably more than she had thought possible. As Dave looked down at this woman, her mouth crammed full of his dick, he was able to make out a weak smile in her watery eyes. Yes, with her help, he thought, I can win this. The blood was flowing into his cock, and he could feel it growing, stretching the bounds of skin and flesh. He was going to save this beautiful woman kneeling before him. He was going to do it!

The couple had entirely forgotten the clock, lost in their collective project of jacking him up. When the chime sounded and Delilah flounced over, Dave saw her scrawl 8 1/4 on her card. Well, that was a little disappointing. True his dick had measured longer than it had the day before. And, in his defense, he hadn't had two weeks of randyness saved up this time either, so any improvement was surely a plus. (God, he thought, how does anyone win this game three days in a row?) Even so, with the fire coursing in his veins and his prick wedged in Brenda's throat, he had felt sure he had grown still larger. But the game wasn't over yet. It was hard to say with Paul's unusual, er, configuration. Maybe his schlong didn't have much upside. Maybe... just maybe... Dave's cock would be enough.

-----

Dave's cock was not enough. "Paul...," Rocky crowed, "you not only have THE BIGGEST DICK, but YOU SIR are a STUD! Let me bow down and worship you!" Then he lowered his voice a notch. "Yeah, but I don't want your head getting too big. In fact, I have to be honest with you, Paul: the fact is, our fancy-dancy measuring device says you came up just a little bit short... just a teeeeeeeensy bit short (fingers held up, almost touching)... a bit short of TENNNNN INCHES that is! (cheers) But here at The Biggest Dick we like to encourage people and make 'em feel good. So we're gonna give you full credit."

Dave looked over at Brenda and saw she looked dazed. A drip of saliva still hung at the corner of her mouth, her lips were puffy and open just slightly, her eyes wide. He saw that she had pulled her ruined blouse closed in front with one hand while clutching her bra in the other, and her gaze shifted slowly back and forth between Rocky and the audience. As the cameras cut out, Dave and Brenda shuffled, side by side, over to their allotted spot on the stage. Dave wasn't sure: did she even understand what was happening? He tried to say something to her, but his throat was too dry. And he didn't know what he would have said.

While they waited on their mark, the audience was entertained by a clip from Kim's pre-recorded video interview, playing on the studio monitors. Her bouncy, chirpy voice echoed above the low buzz of the crowd. "When I heard about this game show, well I thought it was strange (of course!), but I also thought that it was just sooooo perfect for Paul! It would be something we could do together, something he'd be so darn good at! ... You know, I've always felt a little bad that I can't really please him the way I want to. We were both virgins when we got married, and—God this sounds silly now—but we just didn't really think through the 'mechanics.' Not that we'd ever trade all the wonderful things we have in our marriage. But, it's just that when it comes to sex, there's so little of him that can, you know, fit inside me. I do feel bad about that. And so I do what I can with my mouth, but, (nervous giggle), well, you'll see, he just goes on and on. Mind you, he never complains. But I just thought, maybe on this show, Paul will really get to put what God gave him to its full use. He'll get to go 'all the way' in a way he just can't when we're together. This will be a little adventure he can look back on and feel good about. And that's something I can give him."

Dave's face was ashen, his tongue felt swollen. He glanced briefly toward Brenda, and saw that she had worked her bra back on, under cover of her shirt. What was the point? Maybe just a reflex. Then he looked away again, out over the stage toward Kim and Paul. The man was still naked, of course. His penis remained half-hard, foreskin mostly retracted, knobby veins visible. Dave thought he could see them pulsing, even across the room. Kim's small right hand lay lightly, lovingly, on the base of Paul's cock, and appeared dwarfed by its size—she would probably need both hands simply to grasp it all the way around. That man was long, and he was wide. He really was a monster. God, how was something like that going to fit into even a vagina the size of Brenda's?

Time raced onward. He recalled—was it only yesterday?—how impatiently he had waited to see Amy's dress get stripped from her. The clock had simply dragged then, paying no heed to his sense of urgency. Today the roles were reversed, and it seemed that it took but a moment for the crew to drag their huge, horrible contraption onto the set and resume filming.

Brenda clearly didn't hear a word of Rocky's lusty monologue. She just stood there, blinking. Then a pregnant silence settled over the soundstage. Everyone knew Brenda was supposed to step forward and bare herself now—everyone except, apparently, her. Dave certainly didn't know what to do, so he looked at the floor. After a few too many moments had passed, Delilah awkwardly skipped over and took his wife's hand. Brenda looked blankly at the girl (or, more likely, at a point just below eye contact), and allowed herself to be led, in small, slow steps, toward the brilliantly-lit platform at center stage.

With a start, Dave suddenly realized that he had never paid the slightest attention to what Brenda had decided to put on that morning. Her attire had seemed, as recently as half an hour ago, like an afterthought—in fact, he'd given more care to the pattern on his boxers. He looked now. She had chosen a lightweight pale-pink cotton blouse, button-down, with a collar that was feminine, but not fancy or frilly. Of course, she'd never be wearing that top again, sad to say. Below it, she had on a just-above-the-knee-denim skirt, shapely bare calves, and simple but attractive navy flats. Sort of like the uniform of a sensible working mom, he supposed.