The Transplant

I get criticized a lot for writing about unrealistically huge penises, so here's a story about a guy with a small one. Sorta. I'm average, since you were wondering - I just like writing about huge dicks, idk. I'm like that kid in Superbad who did the dick drawings. I have no artistic ability, so the written word is my outlet for it.

While this is a standalone sci-fi story, it features characters from another of my stories. They're very different stories and this is not a sequel, but it does somewhat function as one if anyone liked that story and wants more of those characters. If you want to read it, it's called "My Father, My Husband" and can be found among my stories. They're in different sections and telling you here is the only way to know about it.

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Plodoz awoke, his eyes opened, and he immediately wished they hadn't. Another day with no reason to live wasn't exactly appealing. 'Couldn't I have slept in a bit more?' he wondered, cursing his brain for waking him up into this living hell instead of letting him escape it for another hour or two.

He got up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and shuffled over to the window. As he did his feet dragged, and nothing else. His depression was too great to even walk properly. He spied Orboz rising over the horizon, it being the larger and whiter of the two stars his planet orbited. For the past year, and the next three, it was rising first. And for the past fourteen years and the next five, it was the one farther away. Zeblons, as his species called themselves, had made great advancements in science in the past three millennia, and they credited figuring out their binary star system as the major impetus behind it.

He remembered the weather being warmer when he was a child due to Orboz having been closer back then, as it would soon be again. Older folk frequently busted kid's balls about how the heat or cold would blow their minds, depending which way the cycle was headed. But the difference wasn't enormous, otherwise life wouldn't be able to survive on Planet Nordex.

Not liking hot weather, Plod brooded and cursed his existence. As if things needed to be even worse for him, the weather would start getting hotter within a year or two as Orboz came closer, and wouldn't cool off again for almost two decades. But, he mused, it really didn't matter because whatever the weather, he'd always be miserable. Still lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when Arbaz - the smaller and redder star - rose.

Zebs were, as a rule, quite friendly. They generally chose sex over violence, and had evolved enormous genitalia to aid in this. They knew they were unique in this, as no animal life on their planet had anywhere near the same ratio of genital to body size. The various biology branches of their scientific establishment had studied the issue extensively, finding a strong correlation between peacefulness and genital size. The Large Hardon Collider they'd invented over two thousand years ago remained, in the eyes of most gay Zeblon men, their species' crowning achievement.

The evolutionary pressure on women's vaginas had, in addition to giving them really big ones, also prompted their hips to widen. This made their asses huge, something most men loved. Meanwhile men's penises were also enormous. The defining sign of manhood was the visible roughening and darkening of the skin around the tip as a result of it dragging on the ground while they walked. This rough patch, known as the zizz, provided extra stimulation to men's sexual partners, and the luckiest men were those with the longest penises and therefore zizzes. Capable of giving their partners the best orgasms, these men were the most hallowed of all Zebs and were informally called morbs.

This was the source of Plod's agony - his micropenis hung only to his lower thighs. Even erect and pointed down, it barely went past his knees. Without a zizz he was seen as an eternal boy, the butt of every joke, the outcast in every crowd. Destined to never have sex, romance, or even a place in society, Plod's thoughts revolved incessantly around ending his own life. Rarely did a few moments go by without his mind at least touching upon the subject.

The Zeblon tendency toward niceness was nowhere to be seen in their treatment of the Plods of the world. He was subject to constant derision and belittlement. He couldn't even bear to hold a job, being insulted for eight hours a day by coworkers and customers alike wasn't worth it. And for what, anyway? To have extra money to spend in stores where he was always the center of amused attention or puzzled, uncomfortable glances? To buy things which at best only somewhat distracted him from his depression, and even then only temporarily? The basics provided to him by the Council, as Zebs called their worldwide governing body, were all he needed. Even if he were rich, nothing would ever make others see him as a man, short of medical advancements not yet achieved.

Plod sighed, activated his Whole-body Holographic Ontological Reality Environment (WHORE) and stepped into the machine. Using this technology he was able to have simulated sex with computer-generated partners. This wondrous invention had replaced the ancient teenage art of masturbation almost five centuries prior, something every Zeb learned about in history class at school.

Every kid was provided with one at the onset of puberty, then they were taken away at the age of 18. The expectation was that adult Zeblons would by then be properly trained in the erotic arts and should prefer actual sex. After being subjected to an extremely lengthy and extensive cleaning process, they went back to central storage and awaited new kids to hit puberty. Since Plod's had to be custom-made for his diminutive penis, he was allowed to keep it despite being 23 years old. It was the only decent thing his species had ever done for him.

For this session, he programmed a Laxon Islands chick. He loved the way they looked, typically petite with slightly wavy dark brown hair, prominent noses of a particular shape he found cute, and skin the shade of a good tan, but without the look of sun damage which typically accompanied this shade on those who had begun life with lighter skin. Their asses and vaginas were relatively small, part of their charm for him, given his situation - but that didn't explain why he liked their faces and hair so much.

Variety was the spice of life, of course, and over the years he had simulated every type of woman imaginable. Once in awhile he'd even queue up a Dworkin just for something different - these were lesbians who hated men and were invariably fat and ugly.

But the Laxonis were his favorite phenotype which he kept coming back to. The computer finished loading her and he did his thing. When he finished, the performance summary told him he'd lasted barely over a half hour, ejaculated for only four minutes, and produced just under a quart of semen. This was less than half of the male average on every measurement, although standard for Plod. Even his balls were small and underperforming. He sighed an all-too-familiar dejected sigh.

Afterward he laid in bed, weeping softly. Before long Plaxaz called, a welcome interruption. His only friend, Plax was a 100% gay bottom whose penis, though average, was every bit as pointless as Plod's. It was part of why they got along.

Plax was extremely intelligent, top 1% of the top 1%, the cum of the crop. As such, he had an excellent high-paying position as an astrophysical engineer. Plod had mixed feelings about this, mostly he was happy for his friend being smart and successful. Of course there was a bit of envy - but because this envy was so unlike that which he felt toward other men, and because Plax was such a good friend, it really didn't bother him much.

"How's it hanging?" Plod asked.

"A little to the left" came the reply, an old joke meant to cheer up the sullen young man. It rarely did. He continued "Listen, I've got something I'm working on and I want you to drop by today if you can. It'll blow your mind."

All business - this was curious. Usually Plax just made small talk and tried to cheer him up, but this time he had a point and had gotten right to it. 'Of course I can make it' Plod thought, 'what the hell else do I have to do with my worthless life?'

"Sure, I'm not doing anything" was his actual reply, not wanting to let on how deep his depression ran. That would only encourage Plax to try cheering him up more, an impossible task. "I can leave now and be there in a half hour."

After hanging up, Plod donned his footies and torsocloth, the only things worn by Zebs. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door to begin the arduous trek. If he were normal, it would have taken barely over five minutes. But over the years his strong desire to avoid people had caused him to explore all the back roads and alleys, which by this point he knew like the back of his hand. The downside was how much longer it took to get around, but this was a minor inconvenience compared to the horrible embarrassment he'd face if he went along main paths where many people would see and mock him.

Even so, around ten minutes into his journey a young male child saw him and started laughing. Plod's face went bright red with shame, as the kid's dinger was already longer than his own. It almost dragged on the ground due to the runt's small size; he'd probably grow up to be a morb. Feeling nauseous, Plod hightailed it away from the little bastard and arrived at his destination panting and sweating from exertion. He'd made it in just over 20 minutes, but it felt longer than Zaxon's Cock.

Zaxon, of course, was the most revered Zeblon to ever live. Having passed on over 700 years ago, he'd had the longest penis ever recorded and was seen almost as a god by Zeblons. Legend had it that he'd bedded a half million women and that most Zebs carried at least a little bit of his genetic lineage. Historical records revealed that he'd broken 83 bones, including his nose 28 times, by tripping on his own dick and falling. His name had become a part of many figures of speech.

Plax welcomed his friend, greeting him warmly. He wasn't much of a people person either, although he was happily married to his husband Loz, a morb obviously. Being smart didn't carry the status of having a massive penis, but it did grant enough to help attract a morb partner for female or gay Zebs. Thankfully Loz wasn't there, Plod couldn't stand the sight of that giant dong. Like Plax, Loz was nice to him, but it didn't change how humiliated he felt due to the size difference.

"What do you know about the Lilix Anomaly?" Plax asked.

Lilix was a small rocky exoplanet Zebs had discovered well over two thousand years ago, about 20 light-years from Nordex. One of billions classified by astronomy, it orbited a single star and was completely unremarkable. That was, until 60 years ago when nuclear reactions were observed emanating from it. This was impossible, of course - even gas giant planets weren't big enough to achieve this, much less small rocky ones.

While there were other scientific mysteries, Lilix was the greatest and newest astronomical puzzle. For over a half century astronomers had made detailed surveys of it, finding out more about it than any other exoplanet. But without the ability to perform interstellar travel, there were hard limitations on how much they could figure out.

Plax spoke, "I developed a theory that Lilix harbors intelligent life, and that the aliens living there have small genitals. Lacking the pleasure of good sex, they use nuclear technology for destructive purposes, which explains the observations. Essentially, they engineer giant explosions designed to kill one another."

Plod blinked in confusion. Upon discovering nuclear chemistry over 2500 ago, Zebs had obviously recognized its potential for destruction. It had never once entered their minds to use it in this way; whether transmitted to homes as electricity or powering large ocean-going vessels, it was used only for constructive purposes. What on Nordex would be the point of destroying things?

Plax continued "But what I'm about to tell you is beyond imagination. I've actually developed a way to teleport directly around the immediate galaxy. It only works within about a 25 light-year range. I call it the Scotty."

"Bullshit!" Plod scoffed, "You're pulling my third leg!" He laughed, but Plax's eyes remained serious.

"I'm not joking," came Plax's reply. "In fact, I've traveled to Lilix and confirmed my theory... and I think it might be the answer for you. You'd be amazed how similar it is to Nordex, the gravity is only 2% less, and we can breathe the air and eat the food. It's actually quite tasty, if you avoid a place called 'England.' We even look almost exactly like the Lilixians - except for their tiny genitals, of course. My theory was right!" He beamed triumphantly, proud as a morb.

"What are the odds of that?" Plod asked thoughtfully. "Did you check any other planets? I always thought aliens would look way different."

"The only other planets within range have microbial life at most" was the reply, "so we have no way of knowing. Anyway, listen bro... your cock is huge compared to theirs, bigger than even the biggest men there. And we look so much like them you'd fit right in, aside from your peaceful nature. You'd only have to learn their language, and your neuroplant will help with that. This could be your ticket out of hell, my friend."

Neurological implants had been developed more than 1300 years back and were the standard for Zebs, everyone had one put in as a toddler. They were nothing like what science fiction had predicted prior to their development. Speculation, rarely based on any logic, had been that they would give everyone seemingly magical superpowers. Reality had to follow the laws of physics though. They were essentially small computers with a few sensors, wired into the brain and accessed like a sixth sense. They could sense the emotional state of nearby beings and do a bit of computing, nothing more.

Plod sat down involuntarily, right there on the floor. His shock was so great that his legs turned into jelly unable to support his weight. His face turned red as he realized Plax must be pulling a prank on him. Nothing good had ever happened to him, and if what his friend was telling him was true, this would be a lot more than good. It wasn't how the universe worked, existence seemed to have been specially created to torture Plodoz. There was probably a holocam recording his reaction for the amusement of others, phased out so it couldn't be seen. How could Plax betray him like this? After all these years?

Plax read his mind, partly due to their long friendship, and partly due to the wireless communication between their neuroplants. "I'm fucking serious!" he yelled, then walked over and sat down next to his friend, hugging him fiercely. "I would never hurt you like that" he said, looking sincerely into Plod's eyes. "Look, I'll send you there now. You've got nothing to lose."

It was true, Plod was an only child and his parents had disowned him for his miniscule penis. He was intensely lonely and spent all his time in the WHORE or playing hologames, which were extremely appealing since he could interact with others anonymously and almost feel normal. Plax was his only friend, but Plax was married, had a great career, a small circle of friends, and a large circle of colleagues and acquaintances. He would probably be happy if Plod was happy, even if it meant they'd never see each other again.

He handed Plod a small transponder, telling him that if he wanted to come back for any reason, he could simply hit the single button on it, which was under a protective latch to prevent accidental usage. Next he put a strange looking helmet on Plod, walked over to a control panel, and hit a series of buttons.

There was no spectacular light or sound show, and no buildup. It was nothing like the holofilms Zebs watched so many of, it was entirely anticlimactic. One moment Plod was on the floor in Plax's laboratory, and an instant later he was on a beach, simple as that.

Standing up, Plod tried to take off the helmet, only to discover it wasn't there anymore. He eyed his new surroundings with interest, trying to figure out where the hell he was. While the beach he was on looked very similar to any on his planet, there were differences - but the similarity was so great that he really had to make an effort to notice them.

Being large, trees drew one's eyes. And the trees Plod saw looked like nothing he'd ever seen before. This was the biggest tell, and confirmed that Plax had spoken true. The trees he saw had long, bare trunks and tufts of long leaves at the top. Just below the middle of the tufts, some bore bunches of round fruit, a fraction of which had fallen to the ground. As he walked closer to the nearest ones, he could see that these fruits were brown and fuzzy, about the size of a morb's balls - twice as big as his own.

He walked along in wonder, seeing that the other plant life was also undeniably different. This was harder to notice, small vegetation all melded into a singular patch of green, and unlike botanists Plod had never been interested enough to learn much about the millions of species of unremarkable small plants on his planet. Yet despite not being able to put a finger on exactly why, he could tell it was not the same.

A seemingly predatory animal approached, setting him on guard. The beast's tongue was hanging out, revealing numerous sharp teeth. Its hair was blonde in color and shaggy, its nose large and dark. He nearly dropped a log as it came closer, but his neuroplant told him it was calm and of a friendly nature. Indeed, it approached with apparent familiarity, completely unafraid. When it got to him it sniffed his penis extensively.

At long last, its curiosity sated, it licked his hand, then put its front limbs on his torso. Upright it was about as tall as a small woman. It began licking his face, and Plod responded with a smile, scratching its ears. Its reaction needed no translation, it loved this. It reminded him of a small sequine, though much smaller and less skittish. Some sequines weighed more than a ton and a half, and only these largest breeds had penises which could compare to a Zeblon man's. This beast could be no more than 75 pounds, he guessed.

It pushed away from him, dropping back down to all fours, turned, and emitted a sharp, low-pitched sound a few times. Not overly loud, which would be a sign of agitation, but simply a communication, his neuroplant suggested. In the distance, Plod could see two people walking, and at the animal's call they changed direction and headed toward him. Their slow pace suggested no danger, and the closer they got, the more his neuroplant could pick up about their relaxed emotional state and friendly intentions.

As they grew closer still, he could see that they wore cloth over the bottom halves of their bodies, which was certainly odd. The man's could barely conceal his penis - it was almost as big as Plod's own, from the outline he could see through the cloth. He was about Plod's height as well, although older judging by his graying hair. He was extremely attractive, muscular with a bit of a paunch, exuding an easy masculinity which Plod lacked.

The woman was nothing short of stunning. She was much younger, about Plod's age, and looked almost exactly like a Laxoni - not only in her facial structure and hair, but also her petite body size. Her ass wasn't as big, but Plod could easily see her pussy right through the teeny piece of blue-green cloth which tried valiantly to cover it - and the snatch he saw looked almost as big as a Zeblon woman's. This cloth matched the color of her torsocloth, if one could call it that - it consisted of two microscopic cloth triangles covering only her enormous nipples, and just barely. The miniature pieces of cloth were draped upon her body by string so thin it was barely visible.