The Wet Noodle Written by uppishcarrot (Patreon)

This one is another one of my faves. If the author ever wants me to remove please let me know.

The Wet Noodle

Written by uppishcarrot

How a vasectomy affected my marriage.

I always considered myself to be an alpha male. I prided myself on my virility, my masculinity and my sexual prowess. I was the object of affection for so many and I spent the majority of my free time sculpting my body as close to as what I considered to be an Adonis. I also had a massive ego to boost. In my twenties, my whole purpose was to sow my wild oats and I led a very sexually promiscuous lifestyle. In other words, I was a womanizing misogynist and I broke many, many hearts in my youth. This continued well into my thirties and as I approached 40, I'd finally met 'the one'.

My wife, Caroline is an honest to god knockout, a goddess in every sense of the word. I met her at the gym on the eve of my 39th birthday and we instantly hit it off. She was a tall athletic brunette with piercing grey eyes and a sassy, overwhelmingly confident demeanor. Most men found her intimidating and I must admit, I did too. She had a semi sadistic sense of humor and was always in control, in life and in the bedroom. In fact, I struggled to keep up with her. The sex itself, was incredible. Never had I ever had such an athletic, side splitting, sweat laced lovemaking session. The first time we made love was the most intense sexual encounter I had ever experienced and I made the decision, right then and there that I was going to marry this woman.

After six months, I proposed. Six months after that, we were married.

Caroline is very ambitious and overwhelmingly driven, working as a medical sales rep. Her career just continues to grow. In the time we've been together, she's been promoted twice and her salary has tripled.

A year into our marriage we had a pregnancy scare which pretty much meant alarm bells for my wife. Being a whole decade younger than me, she made it very clear that there was still so much she'd hope to achieve professionally. It dawned on me that we'd never really discussed the possibility of having children and I, had always hoped that one day, in the distant future, I could become a father. Caroline however made it clear to me that she just wasn't ready, at least not just yet. So the decision was made that I would be getting a vasectomy, under the assumption that the whole thing could be reversed when we were ready to conceive.

So, after a quick search online, I'd found a respected and well known urologist who had received multiple awards of excellence. Unfortunately, he was a tad pricey. Instead, Caroline suggested we see her ex, Doctor Bernard Harris, who, although wasn't exactly a urologist, did on occasion perform the odd vasectomy here and there. It was considerably cheaper and Caroline insisted that he was an experienced seasoned doctor despite his young age of just twenty-seven. Caroline shared with me that they had ended things amicably and were still in touch. I was to later learn that he was actually a client of hers at the time.

On that fateful day, with her by my side, we drove off to Doctor Harris' practice. His office was attached to a bowling alley. That was the first red flag. When I expressed my concern, my wife simply told me to be mature about the whole thing and to stop being so silly and judgemental.

Little did I know that a trip to this particular doctor would mark the end of my sex life.

When I met Doctor Harris, I was immediately intimidated. He was a tall, muscular black man in his late twenties. He had the type of physique I was killing myself for. He was this massive oak of a man who commanded the room and made me feel weak and small, almost like a little boy. He and my wife of course were very friendly, making idle chit chat with plenty of inside jokes as I sat there, too nervous and flustered to say anything.

Of course he went through all the standard questions, "do you have children?" he asked to which my wife responded, "no and we're not planning on having any," she said. It dawned on me that she was the one doing all the talking and doctor Harris was actually saying very little to me, nor was he directing any of the questions my way. It felt odd, but more than anything I just wanted to get this whole thing over and done with.

From there, he announced, "okay! We're good to go!" he locked eyes with me said, "drop your pants little buddy and let's get you snipped!"

My wife laughed at this as something in my stomach turned.

Moments later, I was naked from the waist down, laying on a cold steel bench. My wife sat by my side, but mostly engaged in what I could only describe as mild flirtatious chit-chat with her ex. It was clear to me that they still had feelings for each other. Ordinarily, I would've been confrontational but, the man literally held me by the balls as he flirted with my wife in front of me. She was putty in his hands. The whole ordeal felt strange and it almost felt like I was a third wheel, despite the fact that my testicles were the ones that had brought them together again. The whole thing was such a blur, I managed to loose myself, daydreaming about past conquests and all the pussy I'd plundered in my 40 years on this planet. All too suddenly, blinding pain winded me, snapping me out of my daydream. I gasped and looked down between my legs.

Dr. Harris smiled at me, in one hand, he held a syringe, "sorry little buddy. It always stings," he said as I caught my breath, "in a few minutes, it'll be numb. You won't feel a thing," he said. My wife chuckled at this, "Hopefully it's not permanent!" Sensing my discomfort she leaned in to me and gently caressed my face, "Sorry....you okay baby?" she asked, to which I nodded with a wince and a grunt.

I looked back down between my legs only to notice that I'd sprouted a boner, standing at full attention. Clearly a direct result of my daydreaming. I gazed up at her ex, suddenly terrified. Caroline simply smiled at me and said, "Doctor Harris also has that effect on me!" the two of them laughed and laughed at my expense as I lay there, overwhelmed and embarrassed. In a matter of seconds, my erection subsided and my penis simply dwindled away. Once the laughter died down, Dr. Harris chimed in, "it's okay. Perfectly natural. Nothing to be ashamed of."

My wife laughed out loud at that statement, "I forgot just how cheeky you were!" again, they were flirting, right in front of me. It felt almost surreal. I was about to be removed from the gene pool and my wife was openly flirting with the hunky black doctor who was about to make me completely sterile. "If you like, I can show you what I'm doing?" he asked her, to which she leaned in, hovering closer to him, closely examining my junk.

"You're snipping?" she asked.

"Oh no, I'm burning," he said as he approached me with a steel rod, "I've made the incision and now, I'm just going to burn the cord here... and here...." He said out loud as my wife gazed up at him in lust and adoration. "I forgot how talented you were with your urm.... Instruments," she teased playfully.

In that moment, I simply couldn't take anymore. So I closed my eyes. But unfortunately for me, I could still hear every fucking word they were saying. It made me queasy to say the very least. All too suddenly, I felt tugging and smelt burning. "ooohhhhhh," my wife gasped in amazement, "that's incredible!!" she exclaimed.

To my mortification, I heard him respond with, "I can yank the cord out some more and you can have a go? Would you like that?"

I opened my eyes just in the nick of time to see my wife, burning my vas deferens shut. She met my gaze and shot me a cheeky grin, indicating that this was part of some kind of sick game. "Can I... do the other one?" she asked her ex, who simply chuckled out loud and responded with, "sure, just let me show you where to apply pressure...."

I closed my eyes once more in an attempt to block them out.

Ten minutes later it was all over.

"In two weeks, your stitches will dissolve and everything should go back to normal. In the meantime, take it easy and try not to do anything too strenuous," he paused before adding, "no sex for a month." With that, he shot a look at my wife with an impish grin, "I know that might be hard for you."

She playfully punched him in the arm, "oh you're bad!" she joked back.

That weekend, my wife attended to my every need. I literally spent the whole two days in bed, bingeing bad television. To my utter surprise, my bits were not sore, nor were they tender. My wife of course gave me extra special care and attention, insisting that I didn't too anything too taxing. By the Monday, I was getting stir crazy and decided to go for a walk. To my delight, there was no pain. In fact, everything seemed to be okay. From there, I healed up pretty nicely and everything quickly returned back to normal.

In fact, I was back at work on the Wednesday.

The following weekend, I nuzzled into my wife in an attempt to 'get her in the mood'. Ordinarily, she'd be quite responsive to my advances but on this occasion, she stopped me and rather sternly said, "no sex for a month!" I knew she was right, it was best not to push myself too far.

So I waited.

One week turned into two.

Two weeks turned into three.

And eventually, a month had passed.

It had been a whole month since I'd made love to my wife and I was overwhelmingly excited to finally have her. I was also so pent up, not having 'released' for four weeks. I was anxious, excited and nervous. In my mind, I was eager to give it to her hard and fast, I'd planned to pound that pussy like no tomorrow. I also felt free knowing that there was no risk whatsoever of getting pregnant. I was super duper keen to go absolutely crazy and fucking destroy her.

The sad thing is, I didn't realize something was wrong until it was time to step up to the plate. I'd had my last erection back at Doctor Harris' office and I was so absent minded that I simply didn't even notice that I hadn't had wood in a whole month! Not even morning wood. My wife realized something was wrong when I failed to successfully mount her. My flaccid member hung limp, like an overcooked strand of spaghetti. Sadly, she looked down between my legs at my limp state, confused, disappointed and frustrated. "What's wrong?" she asked. I simply couldn't answer her, I couldn't even explain it. In my mind, I was aroused. I was beyond horny.... but my penis was simply not responding.

We tried just about everything that evening from: her signature blowjob, to an erotic massage, to playing with toys, to watching porn.... Alas nothing happened. My dick was dead and no amount of effort was going to make it come back to life. I simply couldn't figure out why. Panic soon set in as my wife tried to reassure me that it was probably just all in my head and that we could try again the following evening.

Sadly, I was unable to rise to the occasion the next evening, reconfirming my failure as a man.

Unfortunately, the evening after was also a sexual disaster.

I had spent the whole day googling, 'impotence after vasectomy' and 'ways to please your lover with a flaccid penis'. I even went as far as to show Caroline one of the articles before we attempted to do the deed. She humored me with an sympathetic grin and a nod saying, "It's okay sweetie. Sex doesn't matter that much...." She didn't sound genuine, and it shook my confidence even further.

That evening, I decided to take charge and try to emulate the type of man I used to be. I started slow at first with kissing and groping. From there, I forcefully picked her up and tossed her on the bed. I tore off her blouse, buttons flying everywhere. She panted at that, she always liked me taking charge.

Then I disrobed.

My pathetic little nub just hung there, limp, lifeless, useless.

Frantically, I flicked it with my finger and tried to pinch and twist it in an attempt to get something to happen. In desperation, I gazed up at her, expecting sympathy. Instead, I realized she was trying to suppress a laugh. This wasn't working and I was clearly making a fool of myself.

After a few more minutes of trying, she eventually tapped me on the shoulder and said, "It's okay. Maybe you should stop before you hurt yourself." It was genuine, but a small part of me felt like my whole predicament amused her on some level.

"I'm sorry I can't! I'm so sorry," I said on the verge of tears.

"It's okay. It doesn't matter," she said, before adding, "It's not your fault. Nothing to be ashamed about."

In my mind, I was half a man. It was utterly devastating. I was so ashamed of my inability to function.

After six nights in a row, we stopped trying. I was became an anxious frazzled mess, self-conscious and terrified that she was sharing my sexual failures with her friends and family.

Then one night she approached me and mused, "I think I know what the problem is."

I didn't really want to talk about it, it was the most humiliating thing that a man could go through, or so I thought, "What is it?" I asked, regrettably playing along.

"You look down and see a sad little pickle between your legs, it makes you feel inadequate. I think you need to get it all out of your mind and think of yourself as an actual man. Forget you have a flaccid little penis," she said.

I didn't like where she was going with this, "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you should wear a cock extension," she said.

I looked up at her confused, "A cock extension?" I asked

"Yeah, it's like a strap on. You just slide it over your limp little penis. It'll make you feel like an actual man again," she said.

A few nights later she approached me in the living room and surprised me with, "I want you to fuck me with your big thick cock! I need it bad!" she said this with a tone of mockery.

We both knew I was un-functional. But I took this as my queue to take my clothes off. I was aroused, but was unable to get wood. Oddly enough, bossing me around was working for me. I was extremely horny and pent up.... I just didn't have an erection.

"I want to be fucked by this!" she said as she pulled out a 'cock extension'.

My mouth was agape.

The sexual humiliation I was feeling was intense.

I finally got it. It was all about her pleasure, not mine. I would not be feeling a thing, she would. She handed me my cock and ordered me to put it on and 'pretend to be a real man'. So I slid it over my limp little pee pee and to my surprise, it fit like a glove, essentially giving me a 'rock hard cock'. Although it was fake, it looked real, at least on some level.

She stared at my new cock for a long minute with a self-satisfied grin on her face. "Oh god yes. You look just like a normal man now.... Honey, you have such a big cock," she teased, coming in close to me, licking my earlobe.

Yes, it was emasculating. It was mortifyingly embarrassing. I felt every little bit like a failure of a man. The very thing that made me a man, no longer worked. All too suddenly, I had vivid flashbacks of past conquests: one night stands, orgies, public romps, countless blowjobs..... yes, I was a stud and women would look at me adoringly with hot animalistic lust! I was the man and the envy of so many. As this was going through my head, Caroline hefted my fake phallus and let out a gaudy laugh, amused at what had become of me. "I wonder what your old girlfriends would think if they saw the 'new you'...." A cruel, sadistic smirk washed over her as she met my dumbfounded gaze.

She was enjoying this. She was enjoying my torment. My embarrassment, my humiliation. The realization that I was nothing more than a joke, a fake, pretend man. But she prodded even further, "Are you proud of your big cock?" she teased, breathing hoarsely in my ear.

Sex with a fake cock felt odd.

It felt good to be able to finally fuck my wife. My new cock gave me a fake sense of masculinity. I felt manly and powerful. I knew with every thrust, she was getting closer to climaxing. I studied her face as I pounded her with my new cock. She was drunk with pleasure, her face a wet sweaty mess as I continued to fuck her harder and harder. Yes, I felt like a man. I grabbed her by her hips and quickened my pace. "You enjoying that? You like that?" I said, getting into the role.

"Oh god yes! Fuck me harder stud!" she said, audibly climaxing.

She clutched onto my back, digging her nails into me. She screamed at the top of her lungs "MFPPPP ARGHHHHH OOOWWWHHHH" as she came all over my fake prosthetic cock.

The whole time, I felt nothing.

When she was done, she fell back, limp and lifeless. "Okay, you can get off me now," she said, trying to catch her breath, "I needed that" she added.

I sat back and examined her. She was satisfied. I had finally pleased her.

As I slid my cock off my soft penis, it made a 'pop' noise.

She looked down at my limp little dicky and broke out in laughter. "I'm sorry, so sorry." She said. I knew it was insincere. She clearly thought my little flaccid penis was amusing. "Aww, that's so sad...." she added, her voice trailing off.

We'd finally found a way to 'make love' and this soon became a ritual. Every Wednesday and Friday night she would hand me my new cock and I would fuck her with it, well.

It became our little game.

Quite often she'd hide 'my cock' somewhere in the house. She'd tell me that If I was able to find it in time, she'd give my 'little penis a small suck'. Of course, I'd never find my cock in time and I always missed out on having her hot lips wrapped around my own little dick. It was her game and I knew she had no real interest in sucking on my wet little noodle. On the rare occasion this happened, it drove home the fact that the whole exercise was utterly useless and pointless. My dick was dead.

Despite all of this, I was overjoyed to bring her pleasure. I'd look forward to slipping on my cock and bringing my hot wife to orgasm through regular old fashioned fucking. Something I was not able to do with my own penis anymore.

After two months of this, we decided to visit a urologist... a proper urologist for a thorough examination. I had came to the assumption that my problem was probably directly related to my vasectomy and perhaps a consultation with a respected urologist could provide some insight as to why my dick just decided to quit. Once again, I lay on a cold steel bench, naked from the waist down as he examined my little bits and pieces. My wife sat by my side, providing moral support, although on some level it felt forced and I'm sure she wondered why I was even bothering, after all, she was getting her rocks off... she clearly didn't care whether or not I was.

An hour later the good doctor had confirmed what I'd been dreading: I had undergone a botched vasectomy. Apparently, Doctor Harris had severed 'something' that he wasn't supposed to, which effectively meant that I would forever remain impotent. It was hard to hear, especially when he told me that the damage to my glands were 'irreversible' and that forever I would be this way. In other words, my sex life was well and truly over. Nothing was ever going to bring it back. I'm ashamed to say, but in that moment I cried.

Caroline shared with me that she felt guilty at least on some level due to the fact that she insisted we used Doctor Harris. She also shared that she still had feelings for the guy and that she had a torrid affair with him not that long after my botched operation. I of course flew off the handle bars and prepared to lawyer up, with hopes of making him sweat. Alas, I later learnt that shortly after my vasectomy, Doctor Harris had folded up his practice and left the country, setting up shop in Guatemala. Clearly, he was facing multiple law suits and opted to just bolt rather than 'face the music'. It was hard to let it go, but I decided to simply power on with life.

It was an overwhelmingly difficult period. Eventually, I conceded defeat and accepted my fate. I even forgave my wife and tried to move past it, focusing on 'returning back to normal'. Things were indeed tense with my wife and despite the fact that it was all her doing, it felt as though she oddly resented me.

There was one particular evening, a particular Friday night that essentially changed everything for us and our relationship took a very sharp turn. Ultimately, my suspicions had been confirmed, she had been sharing details about my private issues with all of her friends. They all found it hysterical.

Anyway, on that particular evening, I came home fairly late, around 9pm. I noticed three cars in the driveway. Then it hit me, Caroline was having a ladies night. Being the gentleman I was, I decided to enter from the rear, to give Caroline some space with her friends. That and I hated engaging in small talk with her annoying intrusive girlfriends.

As soon as I entered the house, it was clear as day, four women were heavily intoxicated, swapping stories and gossiping. You could hear them from way back in the house. I crept slowly, not wanting to be noticed. I peeped through the crack of the kitchen door.... There they were: Kelly, Michelle and her sister Jean. Yes, they were red faced from all the booze and laughter.

Jean in particular was a sight for sore eyes. The best way to describe her is bitchy, slutty and athletic. She was almost ten years younger than Caroline, but I was never certain of her age. She oozed confidence and every time I saw her, she always looked down her nose at me as if to say 'you aren't worthy of my presence, you little whimp'. It was clear she thought very little of me, with her cold crystal stares and her condescending remarks about my masculinity. Yes, she oozed confidence and I was terrified of her, somehow she knew this and she found it hysterical. Whereas everyone else was dressed in casual attire, Jean was dressed in her gym gear: tight bright pink spandex with a little razor back top. God she looked amazing!

I quickly snapped out of it, and decided to surprise the girls with a round of banana smoothies. I figured it would earn me brownie points with the wife later. So there I was, in the kitchen, making these four beauties banana smoothies. I figured I'd make one for myself and join them for a little. I took my time, I made every beverage a work of art, I was sure they would appreciate it. I like to be liked.

I put the five smoothies on a tray and I slowly made my way through to the living room.

Suddenly I stopped by the door, thinking when would be the right moment to enter. I didn't want to just burst out in mid conversation, even startle them. So I sat and waited for the right moment. Unfortunately, I couldn't help but eavesdrop.

It was just childish gossip really, nothing too extreme, until they started talking about Jean's new lover.

"His name is Antonio, he's a tall muscular hunky Latino," she said gleefully.

"Oh come-on, details!" Kelly said, cooing her on.

"Is this the one?" Michelle asked.

"No, no," she said laughing, "I'm not ready to slow down yet, I'm just having fun," she paused, "'massive' fun."

The girls chuckled some more.

"Just how 'massive' is this fun?" Caroline asked.

"Two can's of Red bull's stacked on top of each other," Jean responded.

More laughter ensued as I stood there, nervous. 'Perhaps I should just ditch the smoothies and retreat upstairs before anyone finds out I'm eavesdropping' I thought to myself. I soon realized this was a very bad idea. I was intruding on their ladies night, I was eavesdropping like a disgusting little pervert. I suddenly felt uneasy, little did I know it was about to get much worse.

Jean continued to describe her lovers' prowess, "It's such an incredible cock. I've never been with such a stud. He's a 'real man' you know? He's manly, so fucking manly. Not just between his legs, but he's strong, he's tough, he's got so much bravado, so much attitude" she chuckled, pausing for a moment before adding, "He's an asshole, a major dick, but 'ohmygod' so big, so very thick, so manly," Jean mused.

All the girls were taking her story in with wide grins, they were all behaving like a bunch of horny teenagers. With each passing minute, I felt more and more uneasy.

Kelly chimed in, "I had a lover like that once. He was like a kielbasa sausage, it hung down and low like an anteater. He was so fucking big! Not two Red Bull cans big, but big! And yes, he was a dick, cause he had a big dick," more laughter followed.

That's when Caroline joined in, "God I miss that!"

It felt like the wind had been taken out of my sails. 'Did I just hear correctly? Was that my wife?' I listened intently, feeling every little bit perplexed about the whole thing.

She continued, "My ex before I got married, his name was Alex and he was this Jamaican bodybuilder. He was so hung! Such a thick meaty cock" she held up her fist to demonstrate, "I could barely get my whole fist around it! Every time we fucked, it felt like thunder. He was so athletic and he fucked so hard and deep! God I miss that!" she said.

Of course, it didn't end there.

"I knew your little hubby ain't packin," Jean said with a mischievous tone.

More laughter followed.

"I love him dearly, he's so sweet but..... ummm," she was enjoying this, she had the biggest smile on her face, "he's just not....." she looked up at the ceiling trying to find the words, "ummm...." Through the crack in the door, I could see her excitedly rise up from out of her seat, turning her attention to the buffet table in the far corner of the room, rifling through stacks of papers, "just wait till you see this...." She said aloud as she finally found what she was looking for, extracting a brown manila folder.

My heart skipped a beat. I knew what that was.

When we'd planned to sue Doctor Harris, my lawyers insisted on disclosing details of a full medical, detailing what the procedure had done to me and what was left of me. In horror, I looked on as she handed the manila folder to Jean.

Jean hefted the document, before looking it over. She proceeded to read out loud, "private and confidential." With that, she turned the page before reading, slowly in an amused tone, "erectile dysfunction...."

I winced. I knew she was looking at a close up photo of my tender little bits and pieces. The second photo was worse, me, full frontal, looking particularly miserable with my flaccid little nub poking out of my body. Since the operation, it had shrunk, unbelievably so. Atrophy had kicked in which meant that it had continued to dwindle away to practically nothing. I looked on in terror as she read 'notes'. I saw her eyebrows arch as she took it all in. I knew she was reading about how my little flaccid pee pee leaks constantly. It leaks ejaculate and occasionally, urine. She was reading how I now, wear adult diapers to avoid embarrassing situations.

I looked on intently as Jean took a moment.

Laughter followed. Laughter from within. Laughter so loud and guttural that it felt as though the windows were shaking. She aptly passed the folder around as they all took turns laughing at my situation.

"He's got this little pink earlobe between his muscular legs.... And it's always wet!" Caroline said in between fits of laughter, "it's a little limp wet noodle!" she laughed, waving her pinky in the air to further driver her point home.

"He's a teeny weeinie man?" Kelly asked chiming in, holding up her thumb and index finger.

Caroline held up her pinky and waved it in the air, "even when it worked! There wasn't much there anyway...." She said chuckling in between insults. But she wasn't done yet, she continued on....

"When he has his cold showers it disappears inside him, he looks like a teenage girl!" they were all laughing aloud in hysterics, all at my expense, "To answer your question Jean, my husband does not have a cock. He barely has a penis anymore...."

I had heard enough of this, I decided to put the tray away and head upstairs, making myself scarce. Unfortunately, in the process I accidently tipped over one of the smoothies causing a ruckus. 'Oh no!' I panicked.

You could hear a pin drop as all the ladies ceased their laughter.

It was too late, they had made me out.

"Honey?" I heard my wife call out. She was caught off guard. She certainly hadn't meant for me to hear any of that. Now she had to confront me. I could tell she was embarrassed, or at least felt bad for me.

I slowly opened the door to face the four ladies. All of which, expect Caroline, were looking at me with wide grins and red faces.

They all started at me for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Caroline asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Umm, I made you ladies smoothies.... Sorry I tipped one over, that was mine. But, never mind, it's okay, I don..." I was rambling, I suddenly fell silent. I don't know what came over me, I just felt so embarrassed. My cheeks went beet red.

Kelly was staring down at my crotch. Michelle whispered something in Jeans ear causing her to chuckle. They were laughing at my lack of masculinity that Caroline had so publicly shared. I was humiliated beyond belief.

I slowly put the tray down on the table. I had to get out of there, this was unbearable.

Finally Jean spoke out, "So, Caroline tells us you're just like one of us girls," laugher engulfed the room before Kelly added, "Pee Wee," more laughter followed, deep from within their bellies. I looked over at Caroline. She seemed embarrassed for me and tried to take control of the situation, "Come on guys, please, that's enough."

I pretended like I didn't understand the reference and politely excused myself.

"Are you okay?" my wife asked me as I made my way upstairs.

"Yes of course. Enjoy your ladies night. I'm having an early night. I love you," I said.

Empathetically, she said "I love you too sweetness."

I retreated upstairs as the laughter continued on, echoing in my ears.

In the background I overheard Jean say, "I'd never call Antonio 'sweetness' he's just too manly for that." As I made my way upstairs I could only hear muffled voices. I heard Caroline respond with something I couldn't make out. The house exploded with laughter. It was clear as day, she was still talking about me, still making fun of me. They were all still laughing at my expense.

That single evening changed everything.

It was all out in the open and as time went on, Caroline found it unnecessary to spare my feelings. She became more and more honest with me. Although I appreciated her honesty, each time she opened up to me, I lost more and more of my manhood.

As time went on, I noticed subtle changes in our relationship. She seemed more outspoken and wasn't afraid to belittle me or speak down to me in public. Although I kept a pretty big distance from her close circle of friends, every now and then we were forced to go along to a dinner party or to take part in a social event.

I always felt eyes on me at those social events, it was ever so awkward. I felt as though everyone was laughing at me, or behind my back in some way. I'm sure Caroline's friends didn't tell their husbands about my short comings, but part of me always wondered.

There was one evening when Caroline publicly embarrassed me by getting me a banana daiquiris with a pink umbrella. "Something for my sweet little girl because she's a widdle sweetie!" this caused everyone to laugh. I even saw some of her friends wave their pinkies at me.

After that evening, I tried to avoid her friends at all costs, which also meant my wife would often go out alone with 'the girls'. Girls' night was constant and I was happy as long as I didn't have to see any of them.

Alas, sometimes, you can't avoid family.

Caroline insisted that Jean and her new boyfriend, David, spend a weekend at our place during the summer. I tried to make excuses and I tried to avoid the situation by attempting to work over the weekend, but I simply couldn't get out of it.

When Jean arrived, she didn't even acknowledge me. Every now and then she'd smirk at me whenever I made eye contact with her.

Her boyfriend was typical of the type of guy she normally brought over. Muscular, tall and an asshole. He too ignored me the whole time. The three of them enjoyed idle chat as I sat there in silence, trying to avoid eye contact with them.

Somehow, they all suggested we take a dip in the hot tub.

There was no way in hell I was getting in that hot tub. "You guys enjoy yourselves, I'm not feeling well."

"Join us Limpy," Jean said, staring dead at me with a wide eyed grin.

The three of them erupted in laughter at my expense as I stood there grinning impishly like an idiot.

"Well, we're going to take a dip in the tub. If you're going to be a buzz kill you can just go to bed anyway," Caroline added.

As I turned to make my way upstairs, she called out, "Sweetness, make us some drinks?" It was more like an order than anything else. "Beer for David and I'll have a martini," she said.

"yeah, I'll have a pinacolada," Jean added.

I hung my head in shame and retreated to the kitchen to prepare drinks.

When I came back, all three of them were in the tub.

"Here," I said, looking down at the ground as I handed them the tray of beverages.

It was then that I noticed a pair of wet briefs by the tub. Then it dawned on me, David was naked.

Jean sensed my anxiety and laughed, "Don't worry limpy. David's all mine, I just wanted to remind my sister what a real man looked like."

The three of them laughed once more.

I quickly retreated upstairs, their laughter echoing in my ears.

I'm not sure what happened that night, but they hung out in the tub till the early hours of the morning.

Caroline came to bed very late that night, around 3am. She was heavily intoxicated and was in the mood to get a little frisky. She spooned me and grabbed me hard, pulling my ass to her groin. She breathed hard in my ear, "you're so soft baby" She flicked my little penis with her index finger.

With her other hand, she reached around and inserted her thumb in my anus. I groaned and made an attempt to stop her, "just relax!" she demanded, "let me fuck your 'man pussy,'" she said.

She inserted an additional finger and pushed harder, deeper. I winced in discomfort. This caused her to chuckle in my ear. She picked up her pace and before too long, I felt that familiar feeling. I let out a whimpish groan as a steady flow of semen and urine involuntarily weeped and oozed out of my flaccid little penis. All the while, Caroline laughed and laughed.

"Next time, I might fuck you with your cock," she said before rolling over and passing out.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. This was my first orgasm in quite some time and after that, things quickly escalated.

Before too long, my penis had withered to the point where my fake cock was too big to fit. In other words, it didn't stay on and 'sex' soon became next to impossible. One night I desperately tried to bring her to orgasm with my rhythmic thrusts only to realize that my cock had slipped off. I didn't notice at first and kept going. Of course, Caroline roared with laughter when she realized I was just humping her leg. I pulled away from her in shame and caught her gazing at the lifeless little flap of puckered up skin between my legs.

A sad expression washed over her as I collapsed beside her, conceding defeat. "I'm sorry," I managed to say. She gently placed her hand on my chest and told me it was okay and if I wanted, perhaps we could try something new altogether. I looked at her skeptically as she rose up out of bed and approached me holding two vibrators. "It's clear you're not a man anymore, I mean.... Look at you!" she said pointing at the lifeless nub between my legs, "henceforth, I think I'm just going to call you my girlfriend," she paused for effect as a nasty mischievous grin washed over her, "let's play with each other."

Moments later, we lay side by side on the bed, both our legs spread apart. She toyed with her vibrator, bringing herself to orgasm and I did the same, rubbing my own vibrator against my spread out little 'man pussy'. I didn't achieve an orgasm that night, but Caroline did. She came, hard and I sat there, looking on in awe and wonder.

It soon dawned on me, that it was unfair to Caroline to be relegated to sex toys. She was flesh and blood woman and deserved to be pleasured the way a gorgeous woman like her should. After a brief chat, we both agreed that it would be good for us as a couple, for our marriage to be open. Open on her side.

She wasted no time in dating, signing up to a wide variety of different sites. Before too long, there was a revolving door of 'lovers' on a semi regular basis. At first it was difficult, but in time, I grew used to it and I realized that I was physically incapable of giving her what she needed. Apart from sex and the occasional jab at my expense, everything was perfect in my marriage. I still wanted her in my life and I'm sure she still wanted me too. Our bond couldn't be broken.

Of course, once she met Marcus, I had to fight for her attention. Marcus was her on-again-off-again boyfriend. He was an Englishman who had previously tried to make it as a professional athlete, alas a knee injury halted his career. He was forced to refocus and managed to successfully transition into a talent scout.

To be honest, I quite like the guy and he is always rather friendly and polite to me.

Knowing that they go out on dates and go away on holidays together was enough to drive me insane, but at least at the end of the day, Caroline always came home to me, her husband. He'd fuck her stupid and then she'd come and snuggle on the couch with me. It was how we displayed our 'intimacy'.

Then.... one day, she sat me down and shared something with me that was particularly hard to hear.

"Baby..." she began, slowly, gazing up at me with an excited and overjoyed expression plastered on her face, "I'm pregnant!"

My heart skipped a beat and it felt like I couldn't breathe.

"I'm going to keep it. It turns out, I always wanted to be a mother after all. It feels so amazing to know that I have Marcus' baby growing inside me," she encouraged me to rub her belly, "isn't it wonderful? We're finally going to be a family!"