Tiny D*ck Tax

Added By

Harpytalons

Another day went by and your d*ck didn't get any bigger. It's time to pay the Harpy.

Your d*ck is so small, you pay double the normal tax to make up for it.

It's so small you could pick locks with it. It looks like it just sailed in from Lilliput. It would be better put to use skewering olives in my martini. If it doesn't vibrate it has no business being pocket sized. How do you even manage to not p** on your shoes? It looks like one of those dinky pencils you get at a mini golf course, you pathetic wretch of a person.

For every partner you have left or will leave unsatisfied, pay me.

For every guffaw your bu*ton mushroom draws out of a potential lover, pay me.

For every "is it in yet?" omg, you diminutive d*ck slinging dipwad, you better god-damned pay me.

If you've ever heard or said any of these teeny-weeny-p**ny-apologist phrases:
"It's not the size of the boat it's the motion in the ocean"
"It's ok, if it was too big it would be intimidating"
"It's not the tool it's how you use it"
OR ANY VARIATION THERE OF
You. Will. Pay. Me.

Did you want something in return for your money? Oh well. You should have invested in a strap-on instead to make up for what you lack.

Rules:
Pay up and shut up.
Don't talk to me.
Don't message me.
Just don't.
Your name is Nubs now.

20.00 USD

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