Part One
At 26 I have the world at my feet. I am 6 foot 2. A large framed, muscular boxer. Body honed in the gym and a face that attracts attention to match. I am successful as a young doctor at the local hospital and my friendship group sees me as the alpha male. Life is good.
From puberty I have always been successful at hiding my flaw. The characteristic that I can't alter. It's just unfair that I hide a tiny peanut for a dick inside my shorts. God's little joke. A humiliation I have to bear silently and secretly. And no amount of stretching can change it.
Believe me I have tried. My medical journal confirms that I have a micropenis. A tiny button that sits as a useless nub on top of my large balls. To me it's a proclamation that I can never be the alpha male and - whilst my buddies shag around like rabbits - I shun any female attention, horrified at the reaction it would elicit in the bedroom. It's all so very unfair.
I stand alone in my bedroom and survey my naked body. The body of a Greek statue. Beautiful muscles but the tiniest nub between my legs.
My research drew a blank. I could find no solution to growing my dick. To making me normal. As a doctor I felt something should be feasible but it seemed a forlorn hope. At the gym I showered alone, hiding my nub away with towels and facing the corner as I dressed.
My acquaintance with Bryan started in the staff canteen at lunchtime. We struck up a conversation and he seemed a nice guy. Very different from me physically with a slight frame and a geeky looking demeanour but he spoke with quiet assurance and confidence. I discovered that he was part of the psychology team. His role to support patients recover from trauma, and build social skills and confidence. As our friendship grew in the canteen, I realised somehow that he was the guy I could trust. He seemed to like me with a steady, reliable and trustworthy manner about him. And whilst I didn't relish telling anyone my secret, maybe he could help me at least improve my confidence.
It was very, very difficult for me to open up and tell him my problem. In the corner of the pub he listened carefully. He didn't interrupt and he didn't react as I stuttered out the flaw in my life. The problem I could not fix. After finishing my story and appealing for his help, he paused and considered. Reassuringly, he suggested he may have a friend who could use physical methods to massage me down there and increase the size. It was worth a try.
After contacting his friend, an appointment was made and - with my genitals freshly shaved as requested - I presented myself at Bryan's office. After being ushered in I met with Phil, who assured me he could help. The first task was to take some measurements and photographs so he could work out the correct exercises to stretch my genitalia. I was so excited at the prospect of becoming normal down there, I shunned my embarrassment. Bryan agreed to leave as I undressed. And with a shrug of necessity I peeled down my underwear to reveal my shame to Phil.
I thought I detected a raised eyebrow of surprise as he looked at my peanut. But he said nothing and commented only positively about my muscles.
Posing was excruciating. I was made to stand naked in a variety of positions including arms outstretched and squatting. My concerns at being photographed in total exposure reassured by the medical setting and professionalism of Phil. When finished we set an appointment for the following week to decide the course of action. Phil said it would be most discrete if I visited his home and I agreed.
The following Thursday, I knocked nervously on the door of his imposing Edwardian house. Not knowing just how much my life was about to change. Forever.
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