Little Red Pill Ch. 01

"Yeah well, I got a small dick. We all have our crosses to bear I guess," my lame attempt to make some light of my situation.

"Well the reason I bring it up is that I think I may be able to help," Dr. Curtis offered.

Red flags immediately started raising in my head.

"Why does this sound like the start of some weird infomercial I'd see on cable at 4 in the morning?"

The doc chuckled.

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I can assure you it's legit."

Dr. Curtis wheeled his stool across the room, producing a ring of keys in his pocket that he used to open a drawer in the counter. Out of it he pulled a small prescription pill bottle. He wheeled his stool back closer to me and held up the bottle.

"Right now it's just being called the Little Red Pill."

I threw my hands up.

"Nothing like that!? it sounds exactly like that! You're trying to sell me on some natural male enhancement shit! Like I haven't already googled all of those and read that they're scams!"

"But you see, it isn't some 'natural male enhancement pill'." He assured me. By this point I was mostly trying to get to the end of this sales pitch and get out of there.

"Well, whatever you're selling, I'm not buying, dude." I made a move to jump off the table, when Dr. Curtis put his hands up defensively.

"Hold up a second, Noah. I'm not selling you anything. The cutting edge pharmaceutical company that I'm working with is looking for some real world data. They're ready to start clinical trials. Free clinical trials." He emphasized.

The term 'free' was certainly cause for at least a moment of pause. I still wasn't completely sold.

"So, you want me to be your guinea pig? See what kind of horrific side effects I can wrack up? A little diarrhea, dry-mouth, kidney failure, some hair-loss, dizziness, blindness, a smidge of death?"

The doc smiled. "Hardly anyone has died yet." He actually winked. "But in all seriousness, no. We are well on our way with some patients' trials and there have been no dangerous side effects, I assure you. You have my word as a physician that it is extremely low risk. And it works. It really does. The goal of these trials is to simply see how well it works."

It was starting to veer back into unbelievable infomercial territory for me again.

"So I just take this magic pill and my tiny dick just grows over night? Funny I haven't heard of this on the news... or better yet, the internet." I smirked derisively.

"My partners aren't ready to go public yet. And you'll have to sign a nondisclosure form before you go home today." He explained.

"Uh huh, of course I will."

"Listen," he sighed, "There really is no harm in trying it, is there? I'll give you a two week supply, for free. You take a pill twice a day for those 2 weeks and either it does nothing and I really am just wasting your time, or a problem that I'm sure has weighed on you since puberty is lifted from your shoulders, and you end up with the large penis you've always hoped for. You come back for a follow up in two weeks and either laugh in my face, or shake my hand and thank me for changing your life."

I rolled my eyes. At this point I really just wanted out of there and it was starting to look like acquiescing would be the quickest way to it.

"Okay fine fine, gimmee the magic penis pills."

"Excellent!" The handsome sonofabitch beamed.

After producing a waiver from the same locked drawer in the counter, Dr. Curtis had me sign and then handed over a pill bottle that jangled with its contents. I shoved them down as far in my shorts pocket as I could and headed for the door.

"Just tell Shannon on your way out that you need a follow up appointment in two weeks."

I did as instructed, trying to hide my embarrassment as I stood at the receptionist window and scheduled my follow up with the attractive nurse who had measured my height and weight earlier. If she knew what the follow-up was for, she was good at feigning ignorance.

And then I was out of there. On my way out the door into the parking lot, I nearly collided, lost in my thoughts, with someone coming in. It was a rather muscular urban looking young black man. His tank top exposed arms were both covered in a sleeve of masculine tattoos. I muttered an apology and an 'excuse me' as I stepped aside to let him pass. The bottle of mystery pills making a maraca sound in my pocket.

The intimidating young man paused and looked me up and down before licking his lips and commenting, in a deep and city-accented voice.

"Mmmm, why don't you come back and see me after them pills do they work?"

Mortified, I put my head down and hurried out into the parking lot to my car. Once inside, I yanked the pill bottle out of my pocket and quickly stashed it in the center console, telling myself I was just going to forget this ridiculous and embarrassing little episode had ever happened. To get it out of my mind, I decided to stop at the gym on the way home for a quick workout.

I hadn't been to my hometown gym since Christmas break, working out, instead, at the gym on campus. It hadn't changed much. I took my prepacked gym bag out of the backseat, did a quick change in the locker room, and hit the racks.

I tried to focus on the sets and reps, but my mind kept going back to the bizarro doctor visit. After repeatedly telling myself to stop it and focus on something else, I made an effort to clear my mind, and instead started focusing on watching the other activity in the gym.

That's when I noticed the high amount of hot gym girls that seemed to be working out today. Once I started looking, I couldn't stop noticing all the hot little training bras and yoga pants.

I noticed a few of the girls even eyeing me back. I thought about picking someone out and approaching them, striking up a conversation, looking for a rebound hook-up from Casey. Thoughts of Casey led to thought's of our last night together. Thoughts of our last night together led to thoughts of my small penis. Thoughts of my small penis led to me abandoning any thought of approaching any gym babe. Finally, my thoughts circled back to the doctor visit, and the bottle of pills in my car's center console.

Frustrated, unable to concentrate on my workout, and now suddenly with the paranoid notion that everyone was staring at me, and for the wrong reasons, I grabbed my gym bag and bailed.

Back in the car, I stared ahead for a minute, then glanced over at the center console. Fuck it. I pulled the bottle out of the console, shook a little red pill out into my palm and tossed it in my mouth, washing it down with a swig of warm water from a bottle in the center cup holder.

When I got home, I took the pills inside with me and stashed the bottle in a drawer in my night stand. My mood was pretty much ruined for the day, and I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon mindlessly scrolling on my phone, or playing Xbox.

the remainder of the day went by dully and without much incident, except for an odd moment after dinner when I was watching a baseball game alone in the living room and suddenly found myself popping a random angry little boner in my shorts.

I tried to ignore it at first. Random unprovoked stiffies had really started winding down towards the end of puberty, but this one was rock solid and persistent. My mom was still around the house somewhere, so I would have to head to the bathroom and lock myself in if I were going to begrudgingly take care of it.

As soon as I had the door locked and started untying the draw string in my gym shorts, I remembered the pill. I had to smirk at the thought that I would yank down my drawers to find my junk had magically grown into a monster cock over the course of a single afternoon.

Alas, I had no such luck, as I was greeted with the same minuscule boner I was used to as I dropped my shorts around my ankles. Albeit, it was definitely a rock hard little boner, exquisitely sensitive to the touch. Still, I detected no size difference. Thinking back to the pills, my smirk soured when the thought occurred to me that Doc Grant might have set me up with a bottle of some kind of knock-off Viagra pill. I pictured myself waking my mom up in the middle of the night to take me to the ER for an erection lasting longer than 8 hours.

Still, through all my musing and worrying to myself, my hard-on wasn't going to take care of myself. I grabbed hold of it right there in front of the sink and medicine cabinet mirror and started dry stroking it.

Before I knew it, I was in a masturbatory trance, not thinking of any of the usual hot girl fantasies, not worrying about pulling up some Pornhub in incognito mode on my phone for some visual stimulation. It was just me beating my little cock. I alternated between staring down at my blurred two fingers and a thumb grip stroking up and down the short shaft, and staring at my own face of intense concentration in the mirror above the sink. Faster and faster I stroked while small beads of sweat began to form on my forehead and the sensation in my crotch built and built.

Before long it boiled over. I stifled a grunt, and was suddenly pumping out jets of cum onto the surface of the sink and counter. My mind went blank besides the pleasure it registered from my release. It was one of the most intense orgasms I could ever remember from masturbating and it caught me completely off guard.

Standing there panting, my thoughts began returning to me, and looking down at the amount of jizz I'd left splashed across the gray sink top, I did a bit of quick rationalization in my head. After getting all sexually worked up with Casey my last night at school, we'd ended up fighting and I never got to release that I had built up. I'd been too down on myself in the time since then to feel like giving myself a hand. That must account for the volume and intensity of my orgasm.

I had just beat my dick to Hell, and the worry returned to me that my little boner was not instantly deflating on account of the mysterious and now suspect pill I'd ingested earlier. I pushed the thought aside, went to work cleaning the sink up with wads of toilet paper, and decided a second shower for the day was in order to wash off the little sweat I had worked up. By the time I had got the water on and the temperature adjusted, I noticed my swol little guy was deflating, and sighed with relief.

Later, as I settled in for the night, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed with my night stand drawer open and the bottle of Little Red Pills in my hand. Did the pill I'd taken earlier outside of the gym have something to do with the boner sprouting up out of nowhere and the uncharacteristically intense ejaculation that had followed? Or, was it just a few days of sexual frustration pent up and released in one satisfying go? If the pill had anything to do with it, it hadn't left me with a painful unending hard-on or anything else worrisome. In fact, if anything, it had provided me with a slight increase in intensity of pleasure as I climaxed. On the flip side, if it was all in my head and the wacko doctor had passed off a bottle of sugar pills, then it still didn't much matter.

I had nothing to lose, so I popped another pill with a gulp of water from the glass I kept on my nightstand, and turned in for the night.

I slept unusually heavy and through the entire night. When I woke the next morning, I was shocked to find I had kicked off the sheets and comforter and was actually laying with my head down where my feet usually went. I must have been having some wild dreams, but I could recall none of them. In fact, the first thing I registered after noting I had flip-flopped positions on the bed, was that I had another raging erection in my boxer briefs.

I grumbled to myself as I rolled over off of my stomach to afford my boner some relief from how it pressed into the mattress. I hadn't woken up with hard-ons this solid since my high school days.

Absentmindedly, I pushed the elastic band of my briefs down and out of the way and began the task of stroking myself off. Wake and spank was something else I hadn't participated in much since High School.

My mind remained mostly blank as I focused on my handiwork. I did keep getting vague flashes in my mind of a fit guy, myself maybe, sweaty and working out. The details were fuzzy around the edges and I wondered if it was faint images remembered from the dream that had caused me to toss around like a psycho in my sleep.

Before the images could become any clearer, my entire lower mid-section and below began contracting as I blew another thick milky load onto my own hand and abdomen. My little cock spasmed a few more times as I ran dry and lay there panting.

Awkwardly twisting and hanging off the bed, trying not to let any of my seed dribble off my body and onto my mattress, I fished an arm under the bed blindly until I found what I was looking for; A jizz crusted old tube sock that had remained under there from previous jack off sessions while I went away to college.

I wiped myself off as best I could, enough to stand and shimmy the rest of the way out of my briefs without flinging cum anywhere. I hurried naked to the bathroom to shower off.

It actually wasn't until I was under the hot spray, beginning to lather up some Old Spice body wash into my shower sponge that I noticed that my cock was still bobbing around hard as ever between my legs.

Initial frustration quickly shifted into yet another strong desire to grab myself and masturbate. It was when I looked down and did wrap my hand around my short pole that an odd notion struck me. Was something different? I let go and squinted down at myself in the dim light of the curtained off tub. Everything looked the same. didn't it? It was swollen and red from not only the hot water but probably also from how I'd beaten the dickens out of it twice in the past twelve hours, but that was all, right?

I turned the water off and abandoned the rest of my shower, leaving a trail of wet footprints from the upstairs bathroom down into the kitchen as I stormed over to a drawer next to the oven, dripping and naked. My mother, again thank God, was at work.

I opened the drawer, rummaged around among rubber bands, decks of cards, stray dice, batteries and chip clips until I found what I was looking for. I retreated back up to my room and threw on all the lights available to me overhead, on my desk and on the nightstand, before plopping down on my mess of a bed.

I held in my hand the same small plastic tape measure that I'd used obsessively during the height of my puberty, when I hoped against hope that I was a late bloomer and would start growing any day. Yet I would be disappointed every time to measure out the same 3 and 7/8 inches.

In that mad dash to the kitchen and up to my room, I worried that the opportunity to get an accurate measurement had passed, however, when I looked down in my lap my unimpressive dick still stood at stiff attention among the stubble of pubic hair that I kept trimmed almost to nonexistence in a vain attempt to make my small package seem bigger.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled out a bit of length on the tape measure and set to work. Like I've said, I was already practiced at this and barely fumbled around at all in my lap before getting the measurement lined up. From where the base met my pelvic bone, up the shaft to the tip of my glands. I blinked and leaned closer, practically doubling myself over like a contortionist to get a better look at the number. I clicked the little lever to lock the protracted tape in place and pulled it away from my member and up to eye level for an even closer inspection.

Not believing the results, I released the little lever, let the tape snap back into the tool and immediately pulled it back out as I went back down for a second measurement. I repeated the steps, locked my measurement into place, and brought it back up in front of my face where I blinked at it dumbly in disbelief.

The tape read 4 and 1/8 inches. I am not exaggerating when I say that through High School, up until just before leaving for college, I had measured myself in just this same manner on a regular basis. It had been a small obsession for me. And I always came up with the same measurement of 3 and 7/8 inches hard.

Awestruck, I stared a hole in the drawer of my nightstand. Could two doses of a mystery little red pill really have grown my dick a fourth of an inch? Without further thought, I had the drawer opened and I was swigging back another pill. I stashed the bottle, and the tape measure back in the drawer, and turned my attention back to my still rock hard cock.

It still looked woefully undersized to me, but the measuring tape didn't lie. In celebration, I grabbed a hold of my hard cock and again quickly and ferociously beat it into submission into the same crusty and now damp old tube sock.

Again, as I spasmed in intense orgasm, my mind flashed to vague, half formed images of hard bodies working out. Hard male bodies. I could scarcely care as I spent my load, shocked to find I still had cum to dispense.

Afterwards, as my abused cock thankfully finally began to deflate, I thought about the images flashing in my mind. Pieces of my unremembered dreams? Or maybe my body was just telling me that I needed to get a good work out in? I had bailed at the gym yesterday without getting much accomplished.

Deciding that that must be it, I put on some suitable workout clothes and headed out to the gym.

I actually got a good workout going that day. If there were hot gym babes around, I didn't focus on them and remained focused through most of my sets on the various machines and benches that were part of my routine on chest day.

It wasn't until towards the end of my routine, while I was seated at the machine doing chest presses, that my eyes caught something that held my attention.

Across an open walking space between rows of machines, ankles hooked up under the top of a inclined bench, a caramel complexioned Hispanic man hung upside down doing a seemingly unending set of inclined sit ups.

I watched as he continuously hoisted his upper body up to an upside down seated position. He was maybe in his early twenties, sheened in sweat and hanging upside down, his short dark hair nevertheless looked perfectly styled in a purposely messy look. He wore skin tight black Underarmor training shorts and a red sleeveless Underarmor t-shirt, that although tight, was still lose enough along the bottom hem for it to fall away slightly each time he swung upside down on the bench to reveal chiseled abs with just a hint of dark hair running over them. I focused on the way every muscle, covered and exposed, flexed each time he pulled himself up into the sitting position.

I don't know how long I was staring, or why I was doing it, for that matter. In fact I wasn't even aware I WAS doing it until my gaze drifted towards his square-jawed face complete with a neatly trimmed 5 o'clock shadow beard. As he flattened himself out upside down once more that's when my eyes met his and I became consciously aware I was staring. Flustered, I realized I had just been sitting at the chest press machine for who knows how long, just watching, not even performing my work out.

The next time he went up and came back down, he looked across the space between his bench and my machine, and winked at me. I felt fresh sweat breakout all over my skin even though I'd stopped exercising, and felt the burning of my cheeks reddening as I quickly averted my eyes away to look at anything but him. Clearing my throat exaggeratedly, I continued chest presses as if I were in the middle of a set, even though I had lost count of what rep I was on.

Most embarrassingly of all, I was mortified to detect that I had popped a boner in my gym shorts. Luckily mine weren't skin tight bicycle shorts like his, and since I wasn't winning any contests in the size department to begin with, it probably wasn't noticeable to anyone else.