The Size of the Sausage

Clint had seen her in the bar every week for a month. Doris was her name. He'd overheard one of her girlfriends call her that the second week. She was a real nice piece of ass. Just the kind he liked. A blonde with big tits and a tight waist. Fuckable.

There was no ring on her left hand, but he'd seen her in the bar with a guy last week, and that's when his plan had been formulated. Maybe they weren't married, but she probably lived with him. They acted the part, anyway.

Clint took an immediate dislike to her boyfriend. Clean-cut, obviously some money there. It was a situation made to order for Clint, and the path was clear. Take the guy's woman and rub his nose in it. Along the way, he would avail himself of anything the boyfriend had to offer, including money, booze, house, and car.

He'd already made his interest known to Doris. Every time she glanced his way, Clint was staring at her with that wolfish face. He knew it made her uncomfortable in an erotic way. He had the power that women craved to experience. He knew his tight jeans showed off the hunk of meat between his legs, and it put the fear and desire into Doris as she glanced at him nervously every week, sitting there on the same bar stool.

The week after the boyfriend showed up at the bar, Clint moved in for the kill. Suddenly, he was at her table, sitting beside her, ignoring her friends. He merely looked at her, not speaking much, and she resisted little when he took her hand, walked her to his car, and put the meat to her in the back seat. Her friends were shocked but reluctant to alert Hank, her boyfriend.

Every week after that, Doris showed up with her friends only to leave promptly with Clint. At home, she tried to maintain her usual demeanor, but inside, she was confused and torn. She simply couldn't resist the strength of Clint's mental hold on her.

She loved Hank, in her own way. He was a good lover, and she realized that, oddly enough, he gave her much more pleasure than Clint did. Clint was big and filled her pussy, but his banging produced little in the way of orgasms. Still, she responded so submissively to him.

Clint began to push her to talk trash about Hank. He told her Hank was a pussy, a wimp, not a real man. He told her that Hank could never hold a woman such as her for long, because he was naturally weak. Clint explained that, in the nature of things, men like him should dominate weaklings like Hank. Soon, he was pressing Doris to make Hank see reason and assume his subservient position. He would allow her to give the occasional pity fuck to Hank, he told her.

*****

Hank knew what Doris was up to. It didn't take a genius, although Hank could have qualified for the title. He had learned early on to go with his strengths, and those strengths were always mental rather than physical. He was no frail little nerd, but at 5'7" and 165 pounds, he wasn't going to intimidate anybody, either.

Hank was a smart guy, and there was no doubt about that. He had finished his master's degree in Information Science by the time he was 24, and he used his skills to land himself a good job. Knowing he would never impress the women with his physique, he steadfastly pursued the aphrodisiac of wealth, and at 30, he was pushing his career along nicely. Women, and getting women into bed, had always been a driving force for Hank. Hank still wasn't ready for marriage, but in the past year, he had started living with Doris, the stacked blonde who now occupied his thoughts.

Doris was Hank's equal in height, but not in intellect. He had pursued her strictly for her physical assets, although those charms had now faded for him a bit. She had a cute face, ample tits, and a wasp waist that made her ass even more prominent. She had moved in with him within a month of their first meeting at a company get together. Doris smelled success when she met Hank, and when he took her to his home, she saw what advantages could be had if she played up to him. Not that either of them was in love. They both knew it, although she pretended to be in order to secure her future.

Doris was very sexually experienced. A lot more so than Hank, although he had used his intellect and diligence to make himself into a woman-pleaser. Doris liked sex, and lots of it. That suited Hank fine, but he never trusted her, and he kept an eagle eye on her. You might say that he had trust issues, but there was a real man inside him, and he would not allow anyone to walk all over him. So when his sources informed him that Doris had been seen several times with a tall, rough looking guy, Hank went into action.

Was this just some pussy hound nosing around? What was this dude's thing? Hank used his people manipulation skills to find out who he was, and then his technical skills to get all the information he could about the guy. It turned out his name was Clint Burden, and he had a rough reputation. Clint made his living mostly off women. He was known to have broken up more than one relationship and he saw himself as an alpha male with a huge cock. He was the bad dude that some women are irresistibly drawn to. In short, he was someone Hank had to handle promptly, carefully, and thoroughly.

Using a GPS tracking device attached to Doris' car and a small voice transmitter in her purse, Hank began gathering data to plan his strategy. He wasn't in love with Doris, and he always expected she would branch out sexually, once she thought she had him pacified. Or, "pussy-fied", as the case may be. So, the primary goal of Hank's spying was to destroy his new enemy and punish Doris for her stupidity. He wasn't really nursing hurt feelings, and her eventual infidelity was expected. He just didn't want to wind up as a loser, as he had with one woman previously.

Within a week of learning about Doris' dalliances, Hank was putting together a profile of Clint and was well on his way to planning his revenge. Several things were clear from the recordings he had made of the two. Clint was nailing Doris with his big cock, which was no surprise at all. His style was rough and hard, and his purpose was domination and control. During their sessions, Clint would bad-mouth Hank and demand that Doris feed his ego with pleas for more of his cock. It seemed that Clint got off on degrading boyfriends and husbands as much as the actual sex with the girlfriends and wives.

"What do you want, bitch? Tell me what you want me to do with my monster cock," Clint would demand.

It was all stuff he'd learned from inferior pornography. Nothing inventive or new. Clearly, Clint was a bull wannabe, but not a true alpha male as he tried to project himself. He was a guy who, by virtue of having a large cock, thought the world of himself and expected women to agree with him. He was a guy in need of a few life lessons.

At one point, between fucks, Clint allowed as how he was superior to Hank by virtue of cock size, and that Hank should be made to acknowledge Clint's superiority and dominance. He was obviously feeling his oats. He had made Doris tell him things about Hank, and having already fucked Hank's woman several times, he now wanted to feed his own ego by rubbing Hank's nose in it. Besides, Hank had some dough, and Clint always needed dough. He thought he could use Doris to get Hank's money, along with Hank's pride.

Clint had seen part of a documentary one time (obviously by mistake) that explained Darwin's theories of evolution and survival of the fittest, and something about that struck a chord with him. He had a big cock, and therefore he was top dog. He felt it was his duty to pass word of that status on to the weaker individuals in the pack, including Hank. So, Clint told Doris that they would visit Hank at home and explain to him his new subservient position. Doris was reluctant, because she didn't want to upset the apple cart with Hank and jeopardize her good thing, but she was so awed by Clint that she agreed. Clint told her it would be great. They could run all over Hank, use his house and car, spend his money, fuck in his bed, and Hank would just have to take it. He told her Hank would come to appreciate his place in the pecking order and be in awe of Clint, as she was.

Clearly, asshole Clint had missed the documentary that explained that knowledge is power. Hank had the knowledge and the brain to formulate an effective counter attack. Hank took steps to implement his plan. There was no way of knowing for sure when Clint would show up to claim his spot as the new sheriff in town, but when he did, Hank would be waiting for him.

Hank knew a few things about the psychology of conflict. For instance, he knew how to create a diversion, how to throw a foe off by reacting differently than expected, and how to take advantage of timing. He had worked out several scenarios, and he put in place safeguards to prevent unknown factors from intruding. He kept his guard up, and he maintained backup plans. Hank used his superior brain to oppose Clint's mere cock size advantage.

The day Hank came home and saw a strange car in the drive, he was sure his moment had arrived. Doris had been coming home late many nights, using transparent lies about 'working late' or 'being out with the girls at work'. When Hank walked in, he found Doris and Clint ensconced on the couch, waiting for him. Clint was wearing a tight t-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops. Doris sat close to him in a white blouse and short black skirt. Doris began to speak nervously.

"Hank, this is Clint. There's a new situation...some things have changed...we need to talk about some, uh, some new stuff. It's all gonna be okay, Hank, but we just need to talk about it..."

Hank smiled broadly while Clint stared holes in Hank's chest.

"Great! What's going on, guys?"

"Here's what's going on, asshole. You're out, and I'm in. I own Doris' pussy now, and you're gonna have to adjust to the new way things are gonna run around here, you wimp," Clint said, his most deadly look trained on Hank.

"Wow, that sounds cool, Clint," Hank said, still standing and smiling in his living room a few steps away from the couch.

Clint and Doris glanced at each other nervously. This was not what they had expected. Doris now jumped into the conversation again.

"Hank, honey, you just need to face up to some things. Clint is the dog now. I mean, he's the alpha dog. He'll be in charge from now on. He's the new man of the house. But don't worry, honey. Things will be okay. You'll learn to like it. Clint says so. He says, you'll fit right into the new way things are gonna be."

"Okay...so, why is Clint in charge now?" Hank responded, the big grin still on his face, much to the consternation of the couple on the couch.

Clint decided to kick it up a notch to get the reaction he expected from Hank. He reached over and began massaging Doris' left tit roughly through her blouse.

"Because my cock is bigger than yours, you little wimp. I took your woman away from you, and now I'm the man and you're the cuckold. You got it now, or do I have to spell it out for you, dumbass?"

"Got it!" Hank said.

Still smiling, Hank stuck his right hand out as if to shake Clint's and walked toward the couch. Clint was wary and unnerved and pressed his palms against the cushions as he began to stand up. When he was half standing, Hank nailed his left shin with a hard kick. Hank had recently taken to wearing steel toed safety boots, and the impact cracked Clint's tibia. As Clint screamed and doubled over in pain, Hank brought his hands down on Clint's neck and his knee up into Clint's face hard, twice, and he went down on his side, bouncing off Doris.

Doris' face was a mask of horror. She hated violence, even though she was drawn to rough characters like Clint. She froze like a rabbit cornered by a cheetah as Hank began stomping Clint's bare feet with his boots, breaking several bones. It was clear to Hank that a man who couldn't walk couldn't fight effectively, and Clint would not be walking anytime soon. Leaning over Clint's moaning agony, Hank braced his hand against the back of the couch and jerked Doris by her blouse until her face was a couple of inches away from his own. His grin was gone now.

"Make no mistake about it, slut. I'M the man of THIS house. Shit head here on the floor is just a big piece of garbage, and when I'm done taking him out, you'll never see his ass again. Now, you just sit there quietly until I tell you what the fuck to do, bitch."

Hank strode toward the hall linen closet while Doris looked between her knees at the agonized man on the floor. When Hank returned, he spread a sheet on the floor and rolled the injured man onto it. Clint was cursing and trying to crawl toward the front door, his face a bloody mess.

"Stay down, wimp, or I'll break both your hands. You won't be even be able to crawl if I break your hands. Doris, grab a corner of this sheet and pull. We're going into my studio."

Together, Hank and Doris pulled Clint across the cool tile floor on the sheet and down the hall toward the converted bedroom that Hank used for his home recording studio. It was a completely soundproofed room with no windows, and all the gear had been moved to the walls. From the middle of the ceiling, Hank had recently installed a block and tackle with a pipe attached horizontally to the lower pulley. The bigger man was still on his hands and knees on the sheet, moaning and trying to breathe through his shattered face. Hank grabbed a zip tie, straddled him, and jerked Clint's struggling arms across his back, where the plastic tie effectively handcuffed him. Then he lowered the pulley and secured Clint's knees around the pipe. There was a kind of spacer in the middle of the pipe that forced Clint's knees far apart. Then Hank pointed Doris to a chair and began to lecture them.

"Time for a life lesson, since neither of you apparently learned much in school. Let's talk about the importance of size, shall we? They say size matters, and I'm here to tell you that it's true. I hear that Clint has a large pecker. Is that correct, Doris?" She nodded silently.

"Clint the wimp believes his freakish cock entitles him to all the pussy he wants. He also thinks it gives him the right to invade my home and insult me. I think we have proven today that he is wrong, at least about the second part. Doris, on the other hand, you have large titties, and you think maybe that entitles you to ignore your responsibilities to me and screw around as much as you like."

"No, Hank. I don't think that. I love you, honey. I'm so sorry about all this."

Hank ignored her.

"Take off your blouse and bra, slut, and let's take a look at those tits. Do it."

Reluctantly, Doris stripped to her bare chest. Hank stepped to her and roughly examined her boobs.

"Doris, these look pretty impressive, but when I get right up on them, they don't look so hot. You have stretch marks, and your nipples are not quite symmetrical, are they? Things are starting to hang down, and I don't think that trend is going to reverse itself. In a few years, you'll be playing soccer with these titties."

Doris felt suddenly naked and embarrassed. Secretly, she had always wondered why men were so attracted to her chest, when she knew perfectly well that her tits were far from perfect. In the harsh light of this room, her skin was an unappetizing color and texture. She tried to bring her arms over them to hide their grossness.

"I've also noticed something else you have is getting very big lately. No, not your ass. Doris, your pussy has been stretched beyond what is normal. Men don't like stretched pussy, Doris. Men prefer tight pussy. A big pussy is a definite turn off, bitch. Let's hope your pussy recovers from this dildo lying on the floor, and that he hasn't ruined you permanently. Fortunately, you have 2 other holes for me to use until I decide what to do with you. For now, I won't be using the stretched pussy."

Hank moved back to the center of the room and made sure Clint could look up and see him.

"So," Hank continued, "we see that large size does not always equate to high quality. Neither does it always imply superiority of function. Did you know, Doris, that a large cock is far more likely to suffer the effects of impotence? There's nothing more useless than a big dick that just lies there, pointing to the dirt. It takes a lot of blood to inflate a big pecker. You may not have seen this piece of shit here having trouble getting it up, but he is far more likely to have a limp dingus from time to time than a man with a normal sized penis would. That's one reason that he only knows how to pound a woman and has very little technique otherwise. Not only is he fixated on his own pleasure, but he has to keep that weenie moving or it will sag disappointingly. Also notice that it didn't keep him from getting his ass handed to him by an average-size guy like me.

"As for big tits, they can be quite a problem for their owner, too. First, they get in the way a lot. They attract men of all kinds initially, but the novelty quickly wears off for most men after they've seen them. They make the owner a target for every lewd joke and quick feel artist. It's like having a sign on your chest that says, 'Feel me, I'm stupid.' And as the years roll by, they begin to resemble a pair of water balloons.

"But, there is an organ where size is unequivocally advantageous. A big brain trumps a big dick and big tits, any day. And Doris, I have a big brain. Compared to you and the shit head, my brain is humongous. And I think you must admit that my brain has triumphed today.

"Now, Doris, I want you to crawl over here and give me a blow job. I want you to do it properly and lovingly, since you are my loving live-in bitch. When I come in your mouth, you are not to swallow my cum, but you will open your mouth and display it to me, and I will tell you what I want you to do with it. Over here, on your knees, now."

Without protest, Doris complied. Hank was so forceful with her. He'd never been like this before. He had always treated her gently. She wondered why she was so excited and almost wanted to thank Hank for letting her suck him. She lowered Hank's pants and underwear, tugged and caressed his cock, took it deeply into her mouth and within 5 minutes had him coming as he fucked her mouth. Clint, lying on the floor, tried not to watch. Hank pull his pants back up.

"Show me what you have in your mouth. Good girl. Now crawl over to your ex-lover and spit it in his face."

Doris was shocked at his crudeness, but she did what he commanded. Hank's warm spunk flew into Clint's eye and mixed with the blood on his broken face. He moaned now more in humiliation than pain.

"You mind me very well, my slut. Now, I want you to go to my bedroom and you will find some enema kits in the bathroom cabinet. Use one to get your rectum perfectly clean for me. There had better not be a hint of your shit back there. Use 2 enemas if you are unsure. Then, take a hot shower, dry yourself off, and wait for me on the bed, on your hands and knees. Get the lube out of the night stand and place it by your leg. I'll be in to fuck your ass as soon as I finish with this ass on the floor here."

As Doris left the room, her excitement growing, Hank started raising the apparatus that held Clint's legs. His discomfort was increasing as he was lifted, head down, in the center of the room. Clint's crotch was at Hank's chest level, and he was screaming, unheard in this soundproofed room. Hank retrieved a razor blade from the top of his audio mixer and began to slice through the inseam of Clint's shorts, making them into a sort of skirt. Clint was wearing boxers, and Hank sliced them the same way, exposing Clint's genitals. With a couple of quick cuts, Hank removed the underwear and stuffed them into Clint's angry mouth, muffling his cries.