The knocking at my door is soft, downright timid, but since it's a rather quiet, lazy Saturday morning, I do manage to catch it. I'm not expecting anyone, so I have no real idea just who would be showing up this early, but my question is answered rather quickly as I suddenly hear a meek, hitching voice call my name. It's Jordan, one of my friends, and god, he sounds terrible. Now sufficiently alarmed, I rush to the door and open it, only to find what looks to be more a little pile of misery in the shape of Jordan than an actual human being staring up at me, his eyes puffy and red from what must have been a ton of crying, with tears still running down his face and dripping to the floor. At this point, I'm close to panicking. I am in no way prepared for the amount of emotional strength and support that this situation is going to require, but god damnit, I'm evidently going to have to be the one to do it.

Hurriedly, I usher him inside and have him sit down on the couch, taking my place right next to him and letting him catch his breath. I have absolutely no idea how to handle this, whether I should take his hand, or wrap my arm around him, or say anything... I feel so powerless right now. My friend is hurting, and I can't decide what to do. But maybe that's OK right now; maybe I just need to let him have a bit of time to calm down while he knows that even if I'm overwhelmed with the situation, I'm still here for him. Thankfully, his hitching breaths and sobs begin to slow down more and more, until I feel confident enough asking, "Do... do you want to talk about it?"

At first, he doesn't answer, and when a few words finally come, they feel labored, like it took him great effort just to spit them out. "She left me." The moment those words leave his mouth, he immediately starts sobbing again.

Those few words alone tell an entire story. I've known about Jordan's girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now—for about six months, and everything I heard about her from him made it clear he was head over heels in love with her. And if I'm honest with myself, I was scared listening to him gush about her. I knew that Jordan is a very, very sensitive soul, and a relationship like that could end in tears. Well, seems like my fears have come true. At this point, I allow myself to wrap my arm around his shoulder, pulling him a bit closer, and we stay like that for a bit. I can't really bring myself to ask any more questions, so it takes a while before he breaks the silence again. "It... it was supposed to be our first time... my first time, too. Everything was going great... until the clothes came off. She took one look at my cock and just... laughed. Like she couldn't believe how small it was. And then she... just left. Blocked my number and everything, but not before sending me one final message calling me a 'pindicked loser'." He pauses here and just stares at nothing. After a moment he continues, "...so now I'm alone again. Just another loser. Another failure. A complete waste of oxygen with a tiny, worthless penis."

He buries his face in his hands and sobs quietly. I can't bear to see him like that, so I pull him into my arms and hold him tight. Jordan clings onto me desperately, burying his head against my chest while I rub his back soothingly, trying to calm him down and let him know that he'd be okay. After a few minutes, he stops crying, sniffing loudly and wiping his tears away. When he finally lifts his head from my shoulder, he looks even worse than before. Completely dejected, defeated, and broken. "I... I don't want to die alone, Mason. How... how can I make my dick bigger? Th-That has to solve my problems, it has to! Then I can w-win her b-back..."

At that point, I press my finger to his lips, gently yet firmly shushing him. "No more of that, Jordan. You don't need a bigger dick," I tell him.

However, he just shakes his head. "N-No... sh-she said..." he mutters, and I can't keep myself from cutting him off.

"Fuck her! What the fuck does that dumb bitch know anyway? Fucking shallow size queen whore that dares to hurt my precious friend... forget about her!" I yell with a fervor that manages to surprise even myself. Jordan gasps at my outburst, clearly caught off guard as well. But as another silence follows, my thoughts turn to what I just said, and one phrase in particular... "my precious friend". Mine. Not hers. That's right... mine. I need to make him mine. Protect him from all these idiots that would hurt my little gumdrop. This fucking cunt tore him down... I have to protect him, so I can rebuild him. "You... would you like to stay here over the weekend? Maybe longer? I wouldn't want to impose or anything, but... I think you need someone right now, no?" I then ask him quietly.

There are so many emotions running through his expression right now, I could scarcely even try to decipher them all, but eventually, his response comes in the form of a shy, timid nod. I give him a soft smile in return. "That's good. I'll show you all the things about you that are so lovable. From your pretty little smile to your adorable toes. And yes... that includes your little dick. I'll show you, Jordan... you're worth so much more than you think, and your size doesn't matter one bit." And as this moment lingers between us, I allow myself to lean in, giving him a chaste little peck on his lips. When I break it, I take a long look at his face. He looks so weak... so fragile. I can tell there are still so many doubts swirling around his mind, his heart steeped in an overwhelming amount of self-loathing. But now I'm here to protect him... to protect his smile. "How did that feel?" I ask him.