The Condition of Marriage

This is an obvious work of fiction and a strange one at that. Feel free to drop me a note with your thoughts of why this was rattling around in my subconscious (or conscious). I have some theories but, damn, I freak myself out sometimes.

I proposed to her and it was silly to do so. I was so in love and so naive. And desperate. 

She was the only girl that paid attention to me in spite of my condition. It was like we were dating and I thought we were. We weren't really intimate at all. We kissed, hugged, danced, and made out. I thought we were just taking it slow. I had felt her up a couple of times but that was it. I was masturbating all the time fantasizing about being with her and I assumed she was doing the same while thinking about me. 

My condition, however, turned out to be a problem. When all the other boys hit puberty, they got huge and hairy everywhere. I didn't. At first mom, dad and the doctors all thought I was just a late bloomer. Years passed and I just never turned into a man. I stayed short, skinny and hairless. Inside, things seemed to be working but my outward appearance never changed. 

It was obvious to everyone that something was wrong and I got picked on a good deal in high school by the kids that didn't know me from junior high. The locker room was awful because then it was obvious that I wasn't just short and skinny, but my little hairless penis still looked like a child's. Even erect, it wasn't very big. But, like I said, all the inside stuff was fine so it was erect a lot and it did just fine when I masturbated. 

Eventually there was one of those anti bullying movements and an assembly was called. Somehow the person running the thing convinced me that all my troubles would be over if we just educated everyone. It worked in that I didn't get picked on anymore but in the process, it came out that I wasn't packing anything impressive. My dating prospects dried up overnight. 

Sally was different. She had been my friend for a long time and she must have felt sorry for me. We started doing things together as friends, then as good friends, and then as inseparable friends. I should have known it was too good to be true. We told each other secrets, fantasies, fears, and dreams. We were best friends and if I had known better, I would have realized that was all it was. 

It was the summer after our senior year and I proposed on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. She must have seen it coming because she was so nice about it. In the end, she said she had to think about it. I told her that made sense because it was a big decision and everything. I was too naive to know that this isn't how it works. 

She came back a couple days later and said we had to talk. I should have known that that was a sign as well but I optimistically thought this made complete sense. 

I'll paraphrase to keep this short but the upshot was that she felt like we were soul mates and that we belonged together for the rest of our lives. That was the good news. The bad news was that she wanted children--lots of children--and she was deeply concerned about passing my condition on to them. In addition, she blushed and said very haltingly that she only was really turned on by men that were tall, muscular, and packing a huge penis and proportionately large testicles. Basically she said that if we were married, I would never or very rarely get to have sex with her and that I would have to accept that she would seek out lovers to satisfy her and breed her. She actually said "breed me" rather than impregnate or donate the biological material or whatever. She made it perfectly clear that large powerful men with huge parts would regularly have sex with my wife. 

I was crushed. It just couldn't be true that the woman that I loved and loved me back found me sexually repulsive or non-existent. I won't lie, I started to cry. 

"But, I want sex. I need it," I whined. 

"I know, baby, I know. And it makes me sad that I don't think I or any other woman will be happy letting you have sex with us. Look, I like it that you look so young. I feel, maternal, and stuff. Like, I want to take care of you, mother you, feed you, treat you like a little boy. Haven't you noticed that I kind of do this when we are alone together?" she asked. 

"I thought you just liked me. I thought that was how girls act when they like boys." 

"Well, I do like you but I kind of like being sort of a mother to you as well," she explained. "I think I like both things. Maybe if we were married, I would be even more of a mother to you. I like to protect you. I want to protect you like a mother would. I want to take care of you. But, I think I want to do other motherly things for you as well," she trailed off. 

"Like what?" I asked brusquely through tears. 

"Well, you've always been a very good boy. What if you weren't and you needed to be punished?" she asked almost in a whisper. 

Suddenly I was all ears. Something she knew about me that no else knew was that I was fascinated with spanking. In one of our late night confessional chats we were trading secrets and it had sort of slipped out how it frightened me but also excited me. 

"How would you punish me?" I asked also almost in a whisper. 

She paused before blurting out what sounded like something she had thought about far too long, "I would strip you naked, turn you over my knee, then spank you first with my hand and then with a hairbrush until your bottom was bright red and you were crying your eyes out." 

It was my turn to pause as I looked at my boy hands and considered the offer on the table. My erection wanted to do the talking. He twitched uncomfortably in my pants. 

"What if I liked it?" I asked quietly. 

"What do you mean?" she asked back. 

"What if I was, um, excited by getting a spanking? What if I had a hard-on and I had an 'accident' during my spankings?" I stuttered. 

"That sounds pretty naughty," she answered. I sensed she was smiling before I looked up into her hazel eyes. "Little boys that can't control themselves deserve lots of big spankings, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, ..." I trailed off. 

"Look," she said taking control, "we don't have to figure it all out but I think it could work. I want to be with you but we just can't have sex. I'm not sure what it will be like, but if you can accept this, my answer is yes." 

That was three years ago. Our wedding was interesting. We kept it small because it was going to be a spectacle for sure. Sally is 5'9" and I am more than a foot shorter than her. She is beautiful with long dirty blond hair, large breasts, a narrow waist, and wide birthing hips. She is an hourglass and I am a pale stick figure with blond hair. The pictures were crazy strange with me standing on boxes to make it look less crazy. Glasses make me look older so I wore fake ones. There were also lifts in my shoes, I stood nearer to the camera, and we used every other trick in the book for me look older and bigger. 

The honeymoon was also fun. We went to Disney World because it wouldn't be strange for a mother and son to be together. We were affectionate in public but not overly so. Still, we got some looks. I brought children and adult clothes with and switched between as it served us best. At the park, I was a little boy. At night, I tried to look like a man. And back in the room, I was a naughty little boy indeed. 

The first night was rough. We agreed that we needed to consummate our marriage in order for it to be real. It was her idea, actually, but I think the idea of making love with a little boy is disgusting for any woman. Over the year of our engagement, we unlocked the secret which was that no matter what, my high voice, short stature, little boy penis and testicles, and pale, muscleless, and hairless body was just too much to get past. 

So, she drank and she never drinks. I stayed sober and took my drunk wife to the honeymoon suit when the party was over. In the room, she drank even more, we turned off the lights, and I undressed my statuesque smoking hot wife. She was on the pill at the time so I didn't have to wear a condom. It was quick but wonderful to me. My little hands touched her naked body everywhere. I especially loved fondling her trimmed but hair covered pussy. My little fingers found her clitoris and made her moan as I executed techniques I learned from books, videos, and web sites. Eventually, I mounted her and while sucking on her left nipple, I thrust just a few times and spilled my seed in her vagina. 

It was nice. My little erection slipped easily into her vagina. There wasn't much friction but it was so warm and soft that it didn't matter. She was asleep almost before I climbed off of her. I told her about it the next morning. She didn't remember any of it but was happy that it happened and that we were officially completely and totally married. 

Hotels were difficult for us during the honeymoon and still are to this day. She has to be the visible part of our partnership. She checks us in, orders room service, meets the bellhop at the door, checks us out, gets extra towels, everything. But on our honeymoon we realized that we could just embrace the age difference. I started dressing even younger and no one looked twice. She was the young single mother and I was her bratty little boy. 

She spanked me for the first time the second night we were married. We were both so nervous. We decided that if I was going to be a little boy getting a spanking that night, I better be a little boy all day. At the pool, she was in a bikini and I was in board shorts with a superhero theme. I played in the pool while she worked on her tan. I had an embarrassing amount of fun but was a little naughty when I accidentally splashed her. I said I was sorry but she just said, "now behave or you will be." I was hard instantly, blushed and got back in the water to hide everything from everyone. 

Then we went out and got some lunch. I wore red shorts, tennis shoes with velcro and another superhero t-shirt. She bought me a children's meal and then an ice cream cone. I wanted a double but she didn't want me to have a double scoop. I threw a little fit and she relented. As soon as we were outside the shop, I dropped the top scoop. She gave me a swat on the bottom and an "I told you so." The tight little red shorts didn't hide how I really felt. 

She tried on clothes while I played impatiently. I was right on the edge of being a brat the whole day. We picked up snacks on the way back to the hotel. I was scared and too nervous to eat. She gave me a little grin and said that I should be nervous. She looked a little nervous too. 

In the lobby of the hotel, she stopped and knelt down in front of me so that I could look down into her eyes. She put her left hand on my shoulder, touched my face with her right and said in voice of an adult speaking to a child, "Now, I want you go up to the room and get ready for your spanking. Go potty, brush your teeth and take a shower. I'm going to stop in the bar for a drink and then I will be up to take care of your naughty bottom." 

"Do I have to? I don't want a spanking," I said in my best little boy voice and sulking pout. 

She took my little hands in her big hands before saying, "Yes, you do. You were very naughty today and naughty little boys need to have their little bottoms spanked." 

We were having fun. It was scary and embarrassing. Anyone listening would hear what we were talking about. Even if they didn't hear, it probably looked pretty obvious that a mommy was talking to a naughty boy who was very unhappy about what she was saying. 

I decided to press on a little. "Is it going to be ouchy?" I pouted. 

"Yes, baby. You know that spankings are very ouchy," she responded like a caring mother torn apart because she has to discipline the child she loves. 

"On my bare botty?" She just nodded. I must have looked like I was going to cry, "No, please not on bare botty." 

"I am so sorry, baby. It has to be on the bare or you won't learn to be a good boy. When I get to the room, I want to see a naked boy ready for his spanking. Do you understand?" It was my turn to just nod. "OK then, take my bags up with you. Now get going." I picked up the bags--two in each hand--and shuffled toward the elevator. 

Sally stood up behind me, turned to the right, and went to get a mommy drink at the bar. 

I showered quickly and brushed my teeth. Then I just walked naked around the room nervously. I was impossibly excited and my penis was likewise impossibly hard and pointing straight up at my chin. My scrotum was tight around my grape size testicles like just before I shoot. Though I had an idea of what to expect, I didn't know the details and that made it maddening. 

I heard her card in the door and my heart stopped. She walked in smiling which made me just a little less nervous. "I see you are ready for your spanking, young man. That's good. Looks like you are ready for something else too. A little excited, I see. A hard penis while waiting for a spanking? Hmph, that isn't very good. Well, what did I expect? You've been very naughty today. A good hard spanking is just what you need. 

"Go stand facing that corner while I get everything ready," said commanded pointing at the furthest corner of the room. I shuffled over there under her gaze and took my position facing the corner. The sounds of the closest door opening and closing, the bathroom door, the toilet flushing, clothes being changed, a zipper opening, furniture moving, just made me more nervous. My erection twitched. Just the night before, my little guy had been inside a woman. I was a man. I wasn't a little boy. I wasn't even a virgin. I was a grown, married man standing naked in the corner waiting for his pale buttocks to be turned bright red by a woman technically two months younger than him. 

"OK, let's get started, naughty boy. Come over here." I turned to see my wife dressed like a mother from the fifties with a long dress and an apron. "My goodness, you still have a hard penis. We will have to take care of that, I suppose. Little boys don't appreciate their punishment when they have a hard penis." 

She was sitting on a small padded bench. Next to her right side was a small dark wood hairbrush. I gulped so loud I was sure she heard it. On legs so heavy I had trouble moving them, I walked over to her and when I got close, she just patted her lap with the hand that wasn't holding the brush. 

"I'm sorry I was bad," I said standing at her side. 

"It is too late for sorries. You need a spanking." 

"Is it going to hurt?" I asked stalling. 

"I think you will do some crying," she said reassuringly. 

"Please, I don't want ouchies," I whined. 

"That is enough, little boy. Over my lap. Now." 

I didn't push my luck and bent forward over her lap. My penis rubbed on her apron and I gasped. I humped a little loving the feeling. 

"Stop that, you dirty little boy. If you take your hand spanking like a brave boy, you can do some of that when I use the brush." 

I immediately stopped humping as her right hand gently rubbed and patted my bottom. She wrapped her left arm around my middle, patted a little more firmly twice, and then took her hand away. She paused probably for a second but it seemed like minutes before the first spank landed. It was surprisingly not painful right away though it sure sounded like it should have been. 

She spanked me slowly at first but then seemed to gain some confidence. Later she told me that she had been worried about breaking me. I seemed so small and frail on her lap. When I didn't snap in half and actually didn't even start crying right away, she realized that I could take more. 

It got harder and faster and I did start making some noise. At some point, I realized that with all that noise, someone in the hall would be able to hear what was going on in the room and it would be completely obvious what that was. It was starting to sting pretty good and I was starting to feel like maybe I really had been naughty when she suddenly stopped. There was a pause and then I felt the wood of the brush as she rested it on my bottom. 

"OK, ready for the hairbrush?" she asked rhetorically. "This brush will really sting. I know; my mother used to spank me with this hairbrush. She spanked my bothers and sisters too but since I am the oldest, she said I should have it. She gave it to me a couple years ago. She said that her mother spanked her with it too. 

"This brush has blistered a lot of bottoms and caused a lot of tears. Momma said she spanked daddy with it sometimes and sometimes he even spanked her with it. I don't think anyone ever has used it on their hair. But, enough about the history of this hairbrush; I think it will speak for itself." 

She paused for second and I felt the wood of the brush rub a circle on my right cheek and then my left. She seemed to be thinking of something more to say. 

"I want you to make your penis do its dirty business--make your little squirt. This is going to sting bad so I don't think you will enjoy it very much but when your penis is soft, it will hurt a whole lot more. So, I want you to be a big boy and make your squirt so that you can really appreciate your punishment." 

After she finished, she took the brush away. Then suddenly it was back with a bracing sting. I jerked in shock just before my other cheek felt the sting. I gasped audibly. More spanks hit as she methodically worked all over my small bottom. 

"Aren't you going to do your dirty business? Better hurry while you still can," she chided. 

I started to hump her lap like I humped my naked bride the night before. The soft fabric and her even softer legs felt good even as the sting turned to a burn on my backside. It took longer to ejaculate than the night before and I realized as it neared that this was going to be the first time Sally would see me orgasm. Her first time witnessing her husband's ejaculation would be as she spanked it out of him. 

I clenched down and arched my back as my orgasm washed over me and felt her spank right down my crack as I did so. Semen pulsed out of me onto her apron as I involuntarily pumped and spasmed. Then it was over and the sting rushed back. I collapsed over her legs at first not moving and then as the afterglow of my sexy time passed, started kicking and clenching my fists. She probably wasn't spanking harder but it was faster for sure. I realized seconds after my orgasm passed, that I was going to cry. Then I did start crying. She didn't stop right away; she made sure I was really crying hard before she put down the brush, then brought me to my feet, and then back down on her lap where I sat in the little mess that I made. 

I clung to my wife and sobbed onto her breasts saying over and over, "I'm sorry. I'll be good. I love you." She stroked my hair, kissed my forehead, and said, "I know, baby, I know." 

Eventually I pulled myself together and she stood me up. I had semen on my right cheek and my stomach. My penis was small but still dribbling a little. She sent me to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I got a look of my bright red bottom in the mirror and felt proud that I was able to take such a hard spanking. 

There have been many spankings after that. The old hairbrush is her favorite implement though there are some big wood spoons she favors as well. The brush sure lights fire in a hurry. Most of the time I make a mess on her apron. Sometimes it doesn't happen. Those are less fun, of course. When that happens, I know that another spanking is just a day or two away. She feels bad when I don't have my little painful orgasms and tries to make up for it when it doesn't happen. 

Sally's first sexual experience as a married woman was actually later the night after my first spanking. It was her, alone, on the bed with a little finger tip vibrator. I watched her writhe on the bed and then, at the moment of orgasm, she closed her eyes, clenched her legs together and growled with a sound lower than I can make. She was a woman and I felt like a little boy. She needed a real men. It was just a matter of time before it happened. 

It happened a few months later. I knew it would and I even brought it up. It was hard to do but I just wanted her to be happy. She found a stallion, a stud, a man to "breed" her. She stopped the birth control pills and a month later, he was in our home. 

I stayed in the guest room. She said I wouldn't be able to watch in person cause it would freak out her friend. Nothing like someone's little boy watching their mother get banged by a random guy to soften even the biggest erection. I said I wanted to watch and we rigged up a hidden camera. I knew eventually I would have to deal with my wife being banged by these guys. I figured it would be best to rip the bandage off and get it over with. 

It was terrible and awesome at the same time. He was hung like an animal. He and I weren't even the same species. She looked hungry but it wasn't love. He took her missionary at first. Her legs opened willingly and wide as he mounted her. As he came I watched him spread his own legs then drive deep to the hilt and the freeze in place before his strong perineum throbbed nearly a dozen times. Then he just rolled off her. His enormous member popped out of her and semen ran down her crack. More came out of her than I had ever cum at one time ever. He must have filled her completely. 

Half an hour later, they were back at it. He was behind her as they did it doggy style. She was facing the camera and just before she orgasmed, she looked right into the camera and mouthed "I love you" to me. Then she closed her eyes and went over the edge. 

She sucked him hard after he came in her from behind and when he was close, she mounted him and rode him to what appeared to me to be a mutual orgasm. Like the one time I had made love to my wife, he sucked on her breast as he came. 

When he left, I came out of the guest room. I was pretty upset but knew I needed to be strong for her. I kept it together but had to admit to her that it was hard to watch. We fell asleep in each others' arms. I woke up in the morning still in her arms. It was warm and comforting like a mother's hug. 

She didn't get pregnant that time or even the next four times. She seemed to have fun though. It wasn't always the same guy but they were all huge men. I didn't watch every time but enough to learn for sure that I was definitely not worthy to have sex with my wife. There was no way I could satisfy her like those men. 

Then it happened and she got pregnant. We were elated and, as as it turned out, it was good for me as well. She was so happy she thought I deserved a reward: I could have intercourse with her. It was intercourse, only intercourse. The lights were off and she got naked on the bed on all fours. I climbed up and with two pillows under my knees, I was able to penetrate her. 

She kept her face in a pillow and just put up with me. I took longer than the first time but it was clear it was doing nothing for her. When the men took her, she moaned, moved, and sometimes writhed. With me, she was perfectly still and perfectly quiet. She was just putting up with me and my little need. 

I liked it but it wasn't the way I dreamed it would be. I came and squirted a little seed probably nowhere near her womb not that it mattered. A man's baby was growing inside my wife. 

Two days later, I was back over her lap squirting on her apron before crying as the brush blistered by bottom. It was worth it every time. 

I have a baby now. I am watching her tonight while I write this. My wife is working with a big guy with huge muscles on making another right now. He is a young guy and they are working on round four. He is taking a long time this time and keeps making her cum. The baby is sleeping. I think I will just watch him work on her a little. When he leaves, she said I could get a spanking. I hope she isn't too worn out.