
Your pathetic micro-shrimp dick is the tiniest, saddest failure nature ever shat out—like a shriveled pink eraser that got chewed by a toddler and then forgotten. Women would collapse laughing: “Holy shit, is that a clit with ambition?” “I’ve seen bigger ticks on my dog!” while tears stream down their faces.
It couldn’t satisfy a thimble, a ladybug, a baby mouse, or a fucking grain of rice. They’d howl, “That’s not a cock, that’s a typo in the penis factory!” “I’d need tweezers and a microscope just to jerk it off!” and then snort so hard they can’t breathe.
Pure comedy gold. “Babe, did you order that from the clearance section of tiny dicks?” “I’ve had more action from my vibrator’s lowest setting!” they’d cackle, pointing and wheezing. “No wonder you hide it—shame that small should be illegal.”
Utterly worthless little nub. “That thing couldn’t even tickle a flea!” “Congrats, you’ve got the world’s smallest disappointment!” they’d scream-laugh, slapping their thighs. Pathetic, laughable, microscopic trash.