"Don't let it worry you darling. It's just a nickname. It's a joke. You know what us girls are like. It's funny." Sylvia was dressed in a pink dress that showed her fulsome breasts, no bra, her narrow waist and her wide hips. She'd curled and dyed her hair and wore a gold necklace and low heels. I was still in my bath towel, unsure about the tight satin shorts and t-shirt she'd chosen for me to wear for the night.
Her friends were coming over to our house for a planning session for her hen-night. I was the only male allowed and was expected to answer the door, take their coats, serve snacks and drinks. And look nice.
"Yeah but 'Baby dick'? That's not nice. It's embarrassing." She kissed me and laughed.
"It's just a girl thing. We've got daft names for all the guys. Mike's called 'Gorilla' and Terry's called 'Horse'. It's affectionate. It means they like you."
"But why 'baby dick'?"
She giggled. "Why do you think?"
I went red. "How do they know I'm a bit smaller than average?"
She gave me a look and rolled her eyes: "Dave, what have I told you about kidding yourself? It's stupid and I really don't like it. Your dick isn't 'a bit smaller than average'. It's the smallest one I've ever seen. Accept it."
"That's not the point. How do all of your friends know?"
"We tell each other everything. It was the first thing I told them about you. Not in a bad way. When we first started dating they wanted to know what you were like. I said you were really sweet, very handsome, courteous, kind, intelligent, caring, you were clean, you didn't smell, you made me laugh, you played the piano, owned a house and a car, you weren't married, you weren't gay and you could cook. And my friends all looked me and said; so he must have a really small dick. What was I supposed to say? I can't lie to my best friends."
I muttered that I can't be that small otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to marry me.