Jack's Little Lesson in Utility

"Mr. Hopper, we do not have time for your small inconvenience," Renée said. "Outside there are patients needing this room for examinations. I have two patients hooked up to dialysis machines. Two others are getting infusions. These are people with real problems, sir, not tiny issues of self-esteem. Get over yourself, get dressed, and get out of this office before I call security."

I opened my mouth and closed it imagining the headlines, but my generally unreliable erection showed no sign of wilting.

"You have five minutes to compose yourself, sir," she said slipping out. "Use you time well."

"Wait," Leila said, and there was something calculating in her voice, and that animal deep within me still lusting for her turned wary.

"You must be very ashamed," she said.

"Mortified," I agreed.

"Because you are afraid all the women in the office will know you have a little weenie?"

I nodded and shook my head.

"Yes, I'm afraid they will all know I have a little weenie. Then they will tell everyone, and one day, I'll be out with my wife and catch someone laughing at me. Maybe some man will come on to her."

Renée leaned forward, and her cleavage was almost in my face. I did not turn away.

"A man with a bigger penis than you?" she asked.

I nodded emphatically.

"That's easy to imagine," Renée said. "Ok, What are we doing here?" The question was directed to Leila.

"If you ask Julie, Lucinda, Chrissie, and Heart to come witness Mr. Hopper's genitalia, every woman working in our office will then be aware of his shortcoming. Once it's done we can have the men come in too if he needs. Mr. Hopper, do you need the men to see your piruzinho too, or is it enough for all the women to know how unmanly you are?"

"I'm not gay," I stated, my voice hard. My dick gave a little jump.

"Is that yes or no?"

"No."

Renée crossed her arms.

"No, you want the men to see, or no you don't want them to see. You realize everybody probably knows already anyhow, right?"

"Beatriz probably told everyone already," Leila said.

"Absolutely," Renée said. "There is an unofficial office pool betting pool. You probably got some bets."

"Really? Wow!" My weenie gave another jump. "You have a pool for betting on who has the smallest cock!"

"No," Renée said. "The pool isn't for the smallest penis, but for the most pathetic man of the month. I should have bet on you too. Might have gotten a free lunch out of your trouble."

"Give me a few minutes to clean this thing up," Leila said. "Then bring the others."

"Such a useless excuse for a man," Renée muttered. "People are busy doing their jobs. It's so disrespectful, but..." She glared at me. "So typical for an entitled little man. You need eight women to humiliate you, and you don't even have a half-inch for each of them."

"It is too longer than four inches," I said, stomping my feet, and my shorts fell from my knees to my ankles.

"I'll return," Renée said with a toss of her head, leaving me alone with Leila who pointed at my shorts and put on a new pair of disposable gloves.

"We clean these examination rooms daily and between patients, but that floor is dirty with months of grime," she said. "If you hand me your shorts, I will pass a wipe on the outside and also try to clean where your piruzinho has leaked."

I doffed them for her at once and stood, my penis rising, no longer than before, but arching higher.

"It's kind of cute how it tries so hard," Leila said, and she leaned down until her face was just in front. If I blew now, I would cover her with a flood of desire. "How much bigger are they?"

"Sorry?"

"In that fantasy you were telling us just now, how big were the men fucking your wife?"

My mouth went dry.

"Pretty big," I said.

"Six inches long? Eight? Thick too?"

I nodded.

"You licked them too. Didn't you? Those thick-veined shafts plunging in and out of her hole. You must have tasted her pussy on them."

I nodded, my mouth even more parched if possible.

"Tell me."

"It's a nightmare. He is thick inside her vagina, and she is screaming with delight. She presses my face against her vulva, and my tongue is going wild, licking her clit. Licking." I looked up at her, meeting her gaze. "Licking everything." I swallowed again. "Sucking."

"That doesn't sound like a nightmare for her. Were you sucking him too?"

I nodded.

"Imagine how much worse it would be if you were really gay. So you have her lover's fat cock inside your mouth you are about to gag. Can you imagine his hot load shooting down your throat?"

"It never happens like that."

"But you do eat his cum."

I nodded.

"From inside of her," I confessed.

"That's a very boring cuckold fantasy," she said. "If it ever happens in real life, you must ask him for a Lucky Pierre. You liked my fingers in your butthole. I could tell."

"I did not," I protested. "Besides, it's not a fantasy for me. It's a real problem. If my wife ever knew how much larger other men are, I could never keep her."

"What?"

"Don't look so astonished. Yes, she is middle-aged, but younger men find her desirable. She is so curvy and vivacious. Despite the abundance of evidence to the contrary, I'm a very lucky man."

"No, no. My surprise was because you think your wife doesn't know how small you are. You are an engineer? Do the math. If she slept with two other men, they would both be larger than you. That's what 33 percentile means. Now if she slept with ten other men, you may have two smaller, even three if you are lucky, but all seven others would be bigger. My point is that what you most fear isn't a real thing. Your wife is a lot smarter than you think she is, and she already knows all about your piruzinho. If you think I'm wrong, though, we can ask her. Give me her number."

She had so much honey on her tongue that I almost did.

"That hesitation defines the conflict between your fantasy life and the real life you are pretending to live. That's the life where your wife doesn't know you came commando to the doctor's office so you can shove your, uh, weenie in other women's faces without consequences."

A knock on the door interrupted us. Renée entered with the receptionist, a young plump Hispanic girl with braces.

"This is Lucinda," she said by introduction. "Don't cover it up, Mr. Hopper. The whole point is for everyone to see what you have, so you won't be so excited. What do you think Lucinda?"

"Well, I don't really like penises," she said. "This one is way too small though. Every one of my toys is bigger. This is an entirely useless waste of human flesh, like you-shouldn't-have-children useless."

I closed my eyes and sighed.

"If you do, I hope they're girls," she said and left with Renée.

"Harsh," Leila said. "Look at you. Still hard though." She turned my shorts inside-out and indicating the places where my cum had spilled over. "You look like you came enough to actually have an orgasm. You just kind of leaked it out."

"It's pre-cum."

"No," she said, and using a wood applicator, she scooped a dollop of my jism that still hung from inside, just above the pocket. "This is your cum."

"I know. I know," I said. "I'm really sorry, Leila."

"Open your mouth."

"Why?"

"Shut up and open your mouth to receive the gift from that thick cock pounding your wife."

I did what she told me.

"Do you like how it tastes?"

I shook my head.

"You forgot to say thank you."

"Thank you."

"Here. Have some more." It fell on my tongue at the same time the door opened, this time without knocking.

Two women entered with Renée, a tall youthful blonde with a glorious figure recanting the sweaty story of a hundred hours a month in the gym. I had never seen her before. The other woman I recognized, Chrissie, the office manager. She glared my way.

"Well, well," Renée said. "Only half-mast now, sailor?"

She was right. My erection was no longer full, but of course that only meant my weenie was more pathetic. I mean cock. Penis. Whatever.

"Why is there a naked man standing here?" the blonde asked.

"Mr. Hopper is a man with a public shaming problem," Leila replied. "I don't believe I've met you."

"Jess Flood. I'm with Pendocro Marketing. I was working with Miss Fields detailing a kidney drug when Renée scooped her up to see a penis. I came along because I'm a connoisseur."

"A cockoisseur," Renée joked to general approval. Even I laughed nervously, and my erection was gone.

"I'm not an expert," Chrissie said. She pointed at my little fellow. "But this is a disappointment by any standard. Right?"

"I call these the catch-and-release type," Jess said. "This is a small, thin penis, but an inventive woman can do a lot with it anyhow. My baby finger is a lot smaller, but I can bring myself to ecstasy within two minutes, just by teasing. This penis's biggest problem is it is attached to this man." She waved in my direction.

"You don't even know me."

"Oh, I do," she said wearily. "Six figure income. How much? 200K? You have a sports car or a pickup truck?"

"It's not like that," I protested.

"Tell me the truth."

I swallowed.

"20 grand a month, a pickup truck, a boat, a big house, some rentals."

"How many guns?"

"A small collection."

"How many?" she persisted.

"Seven."

"Can we just leave? I'm actually busy."

It took another five minutes before Julie appeared. She was Dr. Akmed, an endocrinologist. She listened to Renée and Leila explain my situation.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" she asked me. By now I had shrunk to my flaccid two inches.

"Only that I'm very sorry."

"Renée brought me here while I was on my five-minute break. I have to go see a patient now with stage-four kidney disease and give them the news that their GFR rating has slipped to 12. Pull up your pants and go home."

After she left, tears welled into my eyes.

"She's right," I said. "You have so many sick patients, people who really need help, and I monopolized all your attention for my little penis."

Leila handed me my shorts.

"They are mostly clean," she said.

I slipped them on without a word.

"I suppose I'm ready to go."

"No," she said. "You haven't seen Heart yet."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does so. Wait."

A moment later a tall flat-chested woman with an air of androgyny entered.

"Heart!" Leila exclaimed. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Well, I'm here about a dick," they said by way of introductory.

Leila pointed at the offending tissue.

"He just covered it up, Heart, but if you give even the slightest excuse, the smallest hint of request, Mr. Hopper will happily show it to you. He is quite fond of his little guy." She moistened her lips with her tongue, and I realized she was enjoying my suffering. "They will give you a unique perspective."

"They?"

"Oh," I said.

"Well, show me then," they said.

I took my shorts off, folding them beside me this time, and sat on the examination table. Heart slipped on gloves and lifted my member from my pubis by the glans. It twitched in response.

"For an older penis, it seems in good health," they said. "What is your medical issue?"

"He says it is too small," Leila said.

Heart searched my eyes and then holding me tighter, rolled my glans into my foreskin, pushing everything inside back into my pubic mound. They let a little of the glans peek out, about a centimeter long.

"My clitoris looks about like this," they said. "Next March, I'm transitioning to a man. At the moment I'm deciding between metoidioplasty and phalloplasty. The first option means my erect clitoris tissue will be used, in which case I will still orgasm, but I won't have enough phallus to penetrate my girlfriend--physically I mean. The second choice requires mechanical inflation to enter her vagina. I would love to have your little penis, Mr. Hopper. Tell me. Does it get erect?"

"Mostly when it's very inconvenient," I said, relaxing a little.

"No issues ejaculating?"

I shook my head, and their eyes lifted to mine.

"It's not erect now."

"It was earlier," I said, a little anxious, irrationally worried I could not achieve another erection.

"Make it hard."

It should have been easy, right? Not five minutes before I had almost been busting out of my skin, but sex is situational, right? And being evaluated by a transitioning woman was not on my little fellow's bucket list, so it remained flaccid, resisting against all my efforts to get it turgid.

"It's not working," I said at last.

"I can fix that piruzinho," Leila said. "Stand up, Mr. Hopper. Good. Now turn away towards the examination table and bend over."

"Oh my God," Heart laughed. "Are you going to fuck his ass?"

"Yes!" she said, two of her lubed fingers sliding into my rump, but not like an examination. She was indeed finger-fucking me, this time without any pretense of medical exam. "It's what he likes best," she told Heart, her tone both conspiratorial and much too loud.

"Oh, I like that too," they said, cupping my little guy in their hands. "It's still a very small and soft penis, but he is reacting to your method, Leila."

"Are you enjoying my fingers in your ass, Mr. Hopper?"

"Of course not," I moaned, gritting my teeth.

"If only I had my strap-on," Heart said.

"I wish you did too," said Leila. "My hand is already fatigued. Would you like me to stop, Mr. Hopper?"

I was seeing red again.

"No. Please don't stop," I managed.

"How would you like me to put a big fat cock in your butt, Mr. Hopper?" Heart's voice so urgent struck a anew hidden erotic note with me, and all at once, I was fully erect again.

"Yes. Yes," I managed through gasps.

"Now that's more like it," Heart said. "Leila, did you measure it before?"

"Ten centimeters," said Leila, now hitting my prostate rhythmically.

"No. It's. Not," I growled, my brain in heaves of delirium in response to the penetration.

"Looks more like eleven I would say," Heart opined. "It's not great, but good enough for me. You can stop, Leila."

She was out of my butt all at once, leaving me empty inside and groaning internally, a sea of vestigial cum crashing like waves on my brain.

"May I also call you Jack?" Heart's voice had unexpectedly dropped a half-octave.

I nodded.

"I really like your penis, Jack. Funny how it goes. There are so many penises, but when you look for an unattached one, it's a lot more complicated. Here is a little contract and a card for you to always carry with you. It gives me priority for your penis, should some accident befall you. It also affirms that someone besides you needs your..."

She waited for me to finish the sentence.

"My head hurts. My balls hurt. I'm full of cum again."

"Say it," Leila said, her hands kneading my brimming balls.

"Weenie," I moaned as another glob arose from my glans.

"Well it says 'DICK' on the contract, but call it what you will. A rose is a rose is a rose."

I took the card, scanned briefly the contract where, sure enough, my dick was referred to as DICK, all in caps.

"Hold on. Give me that card back a minute."

They made some edits.

"I'm going to want your scrotum too. Those nuts are huge. It's no wonder that you leak everywhere."

They gave me back the card, and I signed without much deliberation.

"God willing, I will do amazing things with your penis," they said.

"See?" Leila giggled. "What you don't appreciate others can use. Did you just learn that?"

I sighed.

"Can I please have an orgasm now?" I asked handing it back to Heart. They took it, and behind her mask, I could tell they were smiling as they stood.

"Do whatever you want, but don't lose that card. I hope you never need it, but if the Fates harvest misfortune for you at least some good with come of it."

I nodded. They were right.

"This is also for you," they said, handing me two copies of papers filled of legalese. "You can change your mind at any time, but before you do, think how nicely I would treat it in your stead. I would review it, but now.... Now it's my lunch break. Thank you, Jack, for being so helpful. There is a new procedure for a penis transplant that has a high success rate, but it is very expensive. If by some miracle I get the chance, though, this little fellow would work great for me."

After I signed both copies and gave her one, Heart left us. AAs I slid my shorts over my rigid weenie, I realized I was in the same situation as before, my little guy poking straight out, championing my small size like a field banner.

"Will you fix it?" I begged Leila. "I have..." I withdrew my wallet from my back pocket and looked through my cash. "47 dollars. Would you please fix it?"

She set her teeth.

"Mr. Hopper, you give me so many options to be insulted, but I have decided to to ignore you propositioning me like a streetwalker for less than the cost of a mediocre dinner. Instead, let me walk you to the street."

I nodded and shielded the view of my little pecker poking by covering it with my hands.

"About that." She pointed at my vain attempt to safeguard my pride. "Your hands draw more attention than your little pee-pee," she advised. "Leave your piruzinho alone. Stop thinking about it, and nobody will notice anything amiss."

It was still hard when we exited into the corridor though. Leila led me past the nursing station where familiar faces watched my shameful exit.

A woman wearing a bright t-shirt with a rainbow inscribed with the message "I am female. What's your superpower?" scowled and then catching the eye of some of the nurses, a shared nervous titter arose. It followed me to the exit to the waiting room.

Leila opened the door for me. Six sets of patients' eyes turned as one, and I knew Leila was wrong. My little hard-on had caught their attention.

"I never!" one woman said.

"That's pretty small," an old fellow said. "Ouch. What's that for?"

"Well it's working better than yours," his wife giggled, which exploded into a long belch.

I was never so happy I had a mask on.

"You have already made your copay," Leila said. "Finish your checkout over the phone when you get home."

I leaned towards her and whispered, "As soon as I get to my car, I'm going to drain my balls, and I'm going to be thinking of you."

She gave a panicked look.

"Your eyes, your hair, your breasts..."

"Ew."

"Can you help me imagine what I cannot see?"

"I have a shaved cunt, but I'm in the middle of my period, so if you're imagining, get it right."

My lips opened to speak but there came now words.

"I mean it's very bloody," she said.

"That doesn't matter to me." My member twitched. "Please."

I grasped her wrist, but she peeled away.

"Mr. Hopper, you are a better man when you are silent. Presley?"

The security guard looked up. He was not a big man, but he had thick biceps, and I knew he could kick my ass without much effort.

"Trouble?" Presley asked.

"No, but could you walk Mr. Hopper to his car?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Outside he whistled loudly.

"What did you do? I ain't never seen her so angry."

I did not answer.

Back in the car, my one-eyed one-and-only gave a jolt to let me know it was still rattled. I adjusted my seat and let the side of my hand graze my aching glans, but now I held my release firm, its unwavering strain a source of power now more than vulnerability. I straightened and some errant cum slithered into my butt crack.

I trembled, my need beckoning, and I wondered whether I would be spotted. That thought excited me anew, and my little fellow begged now for the open air, and how was I to deny him?

I stopped a few minutes by the lake. It was deserted, so I was able to clean myself up a little. I was a real mess, you see. So much cum had leaked from my urethra that my balls were immersed in gooey jizz. I tested it with my finger and decided it had more-or-less the same consistency as snot. It tasted a little saltier than my usual effusion, and as I fiddled with the tiny bead of elastic cum, my little fellow gave a twirk.