by Peter Sacco
“Where is it?” She screamed.
“Inside you,” he gulped.
Needless to say, the moment had ended and Stacey had to go to the hospital and have it removed. As captain of the cheerleading squad, it wasn’t too long before Ryan’s new name “ pipe cleaner “ spread around the school. From that point on, most of the girls Ryan dated were from other high schools. Unfortunately, most, if not all of his relationships were quite similar. University had pretty much been the same.
The size of his penis wasn’t as deflating as his self-esteem. What had been a physical deficiency, was becoming a cognitive disability. Sure Ryan was successful in school and now in his career but the success by which he had judged his manhood, was the pits. His penis was no longer the issue but, rather, the control he had to surgically enlarge his penis. By keeping his current penis, his irrational beliefs and self-concepts would linger. He would have no control. By having the operation, he would have control. And it was during the week before Thanksgiving Day weekend, Ryan had the operation.
He had taken the week off for medical reasons, minor surgery, and would return the following Tuesday, a new man. When asked what the surgery was for, Ryan shrugged it off as a little imperfection that needed to be corrected. Little imperfection? Could have been anything. None of his co-worker pals had any idea, and as far as they were concerned, it was common in this day to have minor surgery and be up and about in no time.
***
Ryan remembered very little about the operation. He remembered being briefed that morning in the doctor’s office prior to the surgery. Once in the operating room, he was prepped and was asked to lie on a small table with a soft sponge mat below him, naked from the waist down and covered with a thin white sheet. The two nurses assisting his doctor bustled about the sterile room, making small talk. Ryan was put under, once the doctor entered the room, and he could remember one of the nurses saying something about three inches as he slipped away.
Ryan awoke in a private hospital bed, very groggy and it was suggested prior to the operation, that he stay at least two days following the surgery. That was fine with Ryan. He had told his family and friends he had to leave town for a few days. If he had told them the truth, he would never have heard the end of it. This was the best plan. He was out in a couple of days and family and friends had been told he would be away for a couple of days and indeed, his recovery went so well, he was able to attend the holiday turkey dinner at his mother’s house.
The operation had been a success. There had been no complications. The doctor told Ryan he would have an additional four inches during erection. Ryan was also told it would be a week or two before he would experience any erections. The doctor also told Ryan that it may be a little uncomfortable, even painful, for the first couple of weeks when having erections, until the skin had stretched. Ryan said he could live with the pain and whatever inconveniences might pop up.
“No pun intended,” he had chuckled.
Ryan went to work on Tuesday. The employees at the bank noticed there was something a little different in his personality. He had a certain glow or radiance. It was as if he reeked of self-confidence. The normally get-go Ryan seemed more laid back. He had never been difficult to get along with, but now he seemed even more easy going. He especially seemed to be more confident around the women of the office. Before, it seemed he could never really stare them straight in the eyes while conversing with them. Now it seemed he could not get enough eye to eye contact. Ryan was back to work, and he seemed better than ever.
It was two weeks to the day when Ryan experienced his first erection. The chubby came at a place he had never dreamed of, a board meeting. All of the managers from local branches had gathered at the corporate office. It was a typical large board room, big table, thick cushioned seats, big window, and air conditioning which caused one’s neck to stiffen after glancing down the table at progress sheets. And of course the boardroom was on the ninety-ninth floor, bridging the heavens. Ryan had always hated tall buildings. It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights but rather the damn time it took to get to the top and get back down. For lunch breaks, you were better off packing a lunch and eating it on the elevator. By the time you got down to the bottom, it was time to come back up. Ryan never had luck in elevators. He could never take an elevator, even in a lifeless building, from top to bottom, or vice versa, without someone having to get on or off.
Of course, there were always those rides that had to stop on every floor up and every floor back down. It was always enough to make you puke. The ride to the top of this elevator had not been bad at all. He even kind of enjoyed staring out of the window at the city skyline as he waited for the meeting to begin.
It was the same nine managers at the meeting, as always. Several of them had disliked Ryan because he was the youngest, been with the company the least amount of time, and it was his bank which was running smooth as silk. Before Ryan got the position, it had always been on cruise in first. Ryan’s get-go and smarts had turned things around in a hurry. And most of all, Thomas Thome, the president of the company, liked Ryan very much. Ryan reminded Thome of himself as a young man. This raised the ire in many of Ryan’s managerial co-workers.
Thome, a gray haired man in his late fifties, was usually on time, if not early, for these meetings. Ryan figured he had been caught up wheeling and dealing some outrageous amount of money. Perhaps he was late leaving the golf course. The weather had been unusually hot for this time of year and many golfers were embracing the courses with open arms. Being the avid golfer he was, Thome was probably determined to finish his eighteen holes.
Ryan was correct. Thome was doing something much more important, more fun, than attending the meeting he called two weeks ago. The members learned Thome was not able to attend when his secretary came into the room and read them a memo Thome had sent, probably from the fourteenth hole. The secretary did say Thome’s new personal advisor would be attending the meeting in his place and should be arriving any time. She warmed their coffees and brought them fresh donuts. Ryan sighed to himself impatiently. The day truly would suck listening to some old fart talk about quality and finance. Great! Ryan sat alone like an island, two seats away from the nearest member. They had made their usual small talk with him and had not spoken a word to him since. He would catch half smiles from them, more leer-like in appearance. They were like a pack of wolves sizing up his carcass. He could not wait for the meeting to end. And that was when Thome’s advisor walked in.
Wow! It was definitely not what Ryan, nor any of the other managers had expected. She was incredibly gorgeous. She had long blond hair, penetrating blue eyes, and sultry brown skin. And the tight blue dress that exposed every curve on her body was tormenting his loins! This had to be the most beautiful woman Ryan had ever seen. She was in her late thirties and this turned him on all the more. Ryan had always found older women attractive.
She was definitely the sexiest woman he had ever spied. And when she spoke, he melted. Her deep raspy voice shattered every bone in his body. She spoke with such wisdom and charm. As the words flowed out of her mouth, her cherry red lips formed circles and puckers. Ryan would have given his eye teeth to watch her eat strawberries. She was hot! Ryan could feel the sweat sizzling in his loins. Just five minutes with her was all, he begged, just five minutes. Ryan could also see the expressions on some of the other guys’ faces when their eyes met. They exchanged the same sighs. For the first time, he was on the same wave length with his male counterparts. This was the time for differences to be put aside and moments savored. The two women managers also appeared shocked at her beauty and intelligence. Even though they were not too bad looking themselves, Ryan could see how they imagined looking like her, Ms. Scott. The meeting had a new outlook. Ryan was happier than a cat in catnip. He could not take his eyes off her.
Hundreds of fantasies raced through his head, with Ms. Scott in each one. He was sure
the other guys had the same fantasies. How dare they share his fantasies! His loins throbbed in pain. He could feel his balls succumbing to the sweet itching sensations he had not had in weeks. The little fingers grasped at his shaft and made their way upwards. He could feel the bulge growing in his pants. He was getting his first new hard on. He felt like blurting it out at the table and embracing Ms. Scott with a hot wet kiss for providing him with this moment.
The evolution of his shaft made self-esteem rise to the highest crescendo. He couldn’t help snicker to himself that he had the complete package and the other guys didn’t. The thought of it growing in his pants made him feel whole. Wow! Perhaps this is what a woman experiences as the fetus grows in her womb. Unfortunately, what was growing in his pants felt like quintuplets.
The hardness was swelling like a water balloon almost ready to explode. There was no more room for blood to flow into the shaft. He had never felt one so hard, and so big. The sweet, tantalizing feeling was overtaken with a dull, throbbing pain which much to his dismay, evolved into a sharp, cutting torment. The hard on was still growing. Ryan began to sweat profusely. He had to look away from her and think about something else. Something that would turn him off.
It was not working. The other members began to notice the sweat dripping off his chin. The hard-on kept growing. He could feel the tip of it wedge against his fly. There was not enough room for it in his pants. It felt like a rolled up hose being inflated with water and needing to be let out. He had to let it out. He had to leave. He couldn’t unzip his fly in here. If he got up, however, they would all see. Big deal, he thought to himself. He was sure half the guys in the room had a stiff by now. He had to get out! The pain was surging like shallow waters crashing through rapids. Ryan was worried if he didn’t let it out soon, it would blow apart like a wiener in a microwave.
Ryan desperately shifted around in his chair, trying to make himself comfortable. It was not working. He was still growing like the magic rocks he had when he was a kid. Just add water and watch them grow! Just take my pants off and watch me grow, he sighed under his breath. He was getting the hell out of there before he exploded. He needed a ruse. The coffee! That would do. He would spill the coffee on his lap and grab some napkins and excuse himself.
Only seconds had passed before he put his plan into action and was out of the room. He went directly to a stall in the men’s room and let it out. It was so big and red. The pain was now going away and it was losing some of its stiffness. Ryan was relieved.
At the doctor’s office that afternoon, Ryan was told what he expected to hear. The implanted extension needed time to adapt to the live tissue. The doctor told Ryan it was quite common for patients to have a reaction similar to the one that Ryan had experienced. The doctor also told Ryan it was quite possible that he would experience similar episodes, but they would gradually be shorter in duration and less painful. The doctor also mentioned that arousal was ninety percent mental and ten percent physical. If Ryan didn’t tell himself something was arousing or sexy, then he could not get aroused. How many comatose patients pop an erection at the sight of their nurse? The doctor said it best, “If you don’t think it, then you can’t feel it.” Ryan would have to apply some of this thinking discipline to himself.
As the days passed, Ryan had experiences very similar to the one he had at the meeting. Unlike what the doctor had told him, they had been more intense instead of milder. Every time a good looking woman walked into the bank, Ryan had to hide in his office with the door closed. The episodes were getting longer in duration and more painful. He tried the distraction scripts to try and turn his thinking away from the arousal, however, it was not working. Nothing worked! The increased pain was also causing a tendency to grab at, and massage, the area. This was not a good idea, especially in public, let alone at work.
The worst episode thus far had to be at his sister’s wedding. Ryan was also chosen as the best man. Why he was ever chosen was a mystery. Anyhow, there he was, standing at the altar across from his sister’s best friend, the maid of honor, whom he had always secretly fantasized. And there it happened in front of all the people. His family, his friends, the priest. Vavoom! It was the big one. He always heard about the “Big One” coming to the state of California. Well his big one measured an eight on the old Richter scale.
He clutched at it and grabbed at it until his fly popped open. The pull tab on his zipper flew right across and hit his sister in the nose. The head of his penis peeked out the hole. Looked just like the groundhog taking its first springtime peek. People sitting in the front row of the church began to chuckle.
His sister almost passed out in disgust. The priest even had a smirk on his face. Ryan ran out of the church in embarrassment. He did not return to the ceremony, nor did he attend the reception.
Given all the happening shit in his life, the doctor told him to relax that it was just a reaction to the implant that he was having. The doctor gave him some pills and lotion to rub on the penis twice daily to relieve the inflammation and the pain. The doctor also promised Ryan the penis would get smaller once the inflammation disappeared. To be honest, the doctor was baffled as to what was happening. There really was no physical reason this should be happening. He had performed many surgeries, and this was the first with this kind of complication. The pills were nothing more than depressants that should inhibit physical arousal and the lotion was nothing more than a placebo. It was the doctor, who had told him these painful erections were ninety percent mental. Therefore he would psyche himself into believing the lotion was working.
Wrong! Ryan was applying the damn lotion ten times a day and there was no difference. The pills didn’t help, even though he increased the dosage. And wouldn’t you know, the doctor had to be on vacation. His family wasn’t speaking to him. The employees at work were talking behind his back. It seemed everyone wore a smirk whenever he walked by. He told his bud, Downing, and of course he laughed about it. He jokingly told Ryan to keep his space shuttle in its launching pad. Worst of all, the damn episodes were growing longer and more painful.
He was now averaging twelve to twenty erections a day. Ryan was so disgusted by his new toy he even checked Guinness to see if there were any documented records as to number of erections. Whoever had the record was about to lose it. And not only was the number of incidents increasing, the erections were happening everywhere. No longer did he need to see live women or women in magazines. Even odors were making him horny. Just walking by the perfume stand in one of the stores in the shopping mall caused his pecker to go into convulsions. He was beginning to feel like Superdick! He was always looking for the nearest john or change room.
The pressure was really getting to him. He was grumpy as a bear due to lack of sleep. How the hell could anyone sleep when their pecker is constantly playing let’s pop a tent. And urinating was something else. Ryan was awaking in the morning with hard-ons which lasted thirty minutes to an hour. In the meantime he had to piss like a race horse but anatomy wouldn’t allow it. The worst had to be while he was sitting on the throne and one popped up. Sometimes there would be no warning and his pecker would be jammed in between the seat and the toilet bowl. Ryan almost beat the hell out of a guy taking a crap, when the guy would not get out of the one toilet washroom at a conference he was attending. There it was popping out of his pants, and the guy wouldn’t get the hell out of the john. Ryan’s life was growing more and more out of control. And songs by the rock band Van Halen drove him into another dimension of arousal...Hot For Teacher! What’s funny is that he got the surgery so he could finally be in control but now the damn thing below his waist had a life of its own.
Doomsday came four days before Christmas at Thome’s annual Christmas office party. That morning, Ryan had a separate incident when he went Christmas shopping and had to duck into one of the change rooms following Mr. U.G. Erection. Ryan had started calling his pecker that when he realized that it was now
in control of his life. Anyway, there was Ryan seated in the change room, nursing his now twelve incher, when a little boy, no older than seven, throws open the door. The kid’s mother is right behind him, takes one look and screams for the manager and security demanding Ryan be charged for indecent exposure. Luckily, Ryan had friends in high places and nothing came of the incident.
The incident of all incidents happened! The party Thome had put on. Ryan had pretty much kept to himself all evening. He had a fair bit to drink, trying to drown his sorrows in bitters. That old tale about how alcohol made you limp was a load of crap. Ryan already had about seven eruptions since the party began. He spent the better part of the evening in the men’s room. Thome joked with him telling him he shouldn’t be drinking so much if he can’t handle it.
The moment that would change his life forever came around one-thirty. Thome’s wife, a real prude, had a fair bit to drink herself that evening. After seeing others dancing, she decided it was time for her to dance. Thome didn’t feel like dancing with his wife. He had an image to keep up and it was bad enough that he had to go home with her. So he pawned her off on Ryan, his chip off the old block. After Ryan groveled and begged endlessly to not have to dance, he was on the floor with her. And wouldn’t you know, a slow tune had to come on.