Meeting Angles Ch. 01

Introduction to Josh's Phobia

I overheard my mother talking to the high school principal about me, but I wasn't surprised. The school nurse told me earlier in the week that Dr. Whipple planned to discuss my refusal to shower after gym class unless I changed my ways immediately. That was a week before, and the gym teacher saw me sneak out after class without showering on Tuesday.

The last thing I heard mom say was, "I'll ask his father to call and schedule a meeting, Dr. Whipple. I don't understand Josh's problem, but Ross will take care of the situation."

I knew I was in trouble because this was the third time someone from the school called. First, it was the gym teacher, then the nurse, and now the principal. It was after 6 PM when dad arrived home from the mill, and mom met him at the door with instructions to call Dr. Whipple, but mom didn't go into details other than to say I had skipped showering after gym again.

Dad and I were tight, and I was sure he'd support me once he knew the details, but I wasn't totally correct. He's a blunt man, and dad said, "Josh you're 18 now and will be graduating in a few weeks. What's the problem with showering after gym class? Mom said this is the third time the school called."

There was no lying to dad because he could see a deer grazing behind a distant tree at 200 yards through a thick fog. I knew I'd need to fess up now or we'd be up all night until he received the horrid truth. I knew my reason for skipping showers was stupid, but I also knew I had a phobia about being naked among a group of guys. I hated it and refused to participate, pure and simple.

Dad knew that I wasn't a troublemaker, and more than one of my teachers had told my mother how caring and helpful I was, and Ms. English, my homeroom teacher called me an angel more than once after she saw me offer a kind hand to a new student or troubled kid that lost a parent from divorce. I always had a kind heart that took the part of less athletic kids that were always selected last when we played sports, but I didn't care to be referred to as an angel. I had some character flaws too, but the one that troubled me most was my phobia about my slow to blossom adolescence.

When I explained my position dad never argued and said he understood and that he'd talk to Dr. Whipple in the morning and see how he could resolve the situation. I had no idea that he had the same issue when he was a young man and that's the reason he didn't lay the law down and tell me to follow the school rules -- or else. When he told me that he suffered from the same anxiety when he was a young man, it made me feel better, because I knew there were no better fathers, and if he could overcome his phobia, I could too. I just needed a few more years.

Equally important was that I never sensed mom was troubled by any shortfalls my father may have had, and as a matter of fact, I knew they had a wonderful marriage. More times than I could remember I caught them tightly embraced slipping off to their bedroom, and I was somewhat ashamed that I listened closely to their sweet times together and heard their bed squeaking long before I headed for bed and dreamed that someday I would be so lucky as my dad.

I knew from when I was in grade school how beautiful and caring my mother was, and how she always seemed to have time for dad after a busy day chasing me around and trying to keep me out of trouble. And dad, well he worshipped mom and treated her royally with affection and for working part-time as a home health nurse while I was in school. She wanted to be home when I stepped off the school bus until I started ninth grade.

Dad sat me down and told me he made arrangements with a very old friend to talk with me and attempt to resolve my resolve to maintain privacy while I went through a troubling state in life. Dad said Dr. Ann Pembroke was a woman that specialized in helping men and women overcome troublesome social issues by recognizing everyone had some personal character flaws and accepting that their partner wasn't perfect, but neither was he or she. He called Dr. Ann a highly trained medical doctor that specialized in psychiatry that graduated from Stanford University, one of the most prestigious medical schools in the world.

As I mustered up my courage in the kitchen to leave for my appointment with dad's shrink friend, I sensed mom was upset that I didn't consult her regarding my problem at school. Mom pulled me into her loving arms and said, Josh, I could have told you there was nothing wrong with you the moment I changed your diaper for the first time. You know that I'm a nurse, and over the eighteen years I've spent loving and caring for you and bandaging your wounds, I saw you develop. Physically, you're as close to perfect as a son could ever be, Josh. Trust me. I know!

I saw that mom was choked up, as tears wept from her eyes and whispered, "Someday Josh, you'll find a woman that knows you are an angel sent from God. She'll need you and recognize your sensitivity to her needs, and she'll offer her love in return for your understanding and compassion." I wasn't sure exactly what mom was talking about, but I also knew she infrequently made a mistake in judgment. After all, she picked out the best possible dad for her only son.

I was happy I had an appointment with Dr. Ann Pembroke, and that I had to go alone. Dad told me that he went to school with Ann Pembroke, and she became a world-renowned psychiatrist and opened her practice in Portland twenty years before. He told me that he explained my school issue, and Dr. Whipple agreed to my suggestion to get you help. "Ann said, after your appointment, she'd talk with your principal and ask to have you excused from gym classes for the remainder of the year." I agreed to make a solid effort to resolve my phobia of being seen naked in front of adult male students.

Dad shoots straight from the hip, and he said he would be in constant communications with Ann, as they were close friends. I had no way of knowing they dated before my mother came into the picture, but I later learned it was before she went to college and they never were involved seriously though she was his date for the senior prom.

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Dr. Ann's small office was on the third floor over Portland National Bank with a gorgeous view of the Columbia River in downtown Portland. It was nothing fabulous, but the woodwork was hand-stained mahogany, which I recognized because of my interest in lumber and woodworking.

Jillian was her young receptionist, and I remembered her from school when we were in the same advanced math class. She was two years older than me, and I barely knew her, but that said, she was smart. She looked prettier than I remembered, and I recognized her voice quickly and her name popped into my head. She called me Mr. Edmonds and stood up from her desk, offered me her delicate hand, and said she was looking forward to seeing me again. "I remember you, Jillian Taft; it's been a long time since I saw you last, but I recognized you instantly."

She asked me if she could take some information down for the medical chart and ran over questions of my health, my parent's health, and if I had any physical issues. By the time she was finished, I thought she knows almost as much about me as I know. After she finished quizzing me about my medical condition she asked what I planned to do when I graduated, and I responded I planned to go into the lumber and logging business with my father and grandfather.

She tried to make me feel smart when she mentioned how I was outstanding in the math class we shared and mentioned she almost asked me to a Sadie Hawkins dance once, but she worried about getting teased for asking a younger guy. I smiled and said I wished she would have asked, as I was always too shy to ask pretty girls on a date.

It was all over when Ann opened the door to her office and invited me inside. She brought me up-to-date on how she knew my parents before telling me her daughter just opened a new medical practice on the fifth floor and that if she could steal away for a few minutes she'd like to introduce Karen.

It was obvious that Ann knew all about my phobia and asked if I understood she was a psychiatrist and treated phobias like I may have. She took her time as she talked about her medical practice and that she was happy my father remembered her after all the water that ran over the dam when she saw him last. She wanted to know how mom and dad were doing and if I had siblings.

When she thought I was at ease, she asked me to tell her about my resistance to showering with the other young men after gym class. She was easy to talk with and said that many people hated to be seen naked, and it wasn't always a phobia. Some people are ashamed of their excess fat or lean bodies while others have some visual defects that appear ugly in their view.

I knew I had to be truthful when Ann asked me why I didn't want to shower openly with other men, and I bluntly told her I felt my genitals were inferior to other guys my age. I thought my answer was plain and to the point, but she wanted to know what seemed inferior.

I knew I was having problems coming out and saying my penis was smaller than others, and she quickly said many men believe that, but often they're mistaken. "I'd like to see exactly what you're talking about, but the law requires that I have a witness present to examine a male's genitalia. I could ask Jillian to come in, but I overheard you say that you knew one another so that's not a good idea. Someday you may want to date her and that would be unfair.

Ann asked me if I was in a hurry, and I told her I had no plans other than getting home in time for dinner. She picked up her cell phone and said, "I'm going to call Karen's office and see if she'd have time to stop in after her last patient. She's a much better judge of this anyway, as she recently graduated from Harvard Medical School."

Thirty minutes later Jillian knocked on the door and ushered a beautiful 25-year-old MD that started medical training when she was only 15. I assumed it took more than smarts to get into Harvard at 15 and figured she had to be brilliant. I couldn't help thinking that it must be thrilling to be so pretty and smart at the same time while still in the prime of her life.

Karen quickly shook my hand and told Ann she had just finished with her final patient for the day, and she was glad her mother called. I had a sneaky suspicion this was a planned event, but then again, I always suspect the worst.

Ann went over everything she and I talked about and even mentioned she dated my father in high school once. That's when Karen took over and said, "Josh, I'll bet right now that you are normal when it comes to your genitals. Many men worry about it, but few have a problem. It's not like girls go around with a tape measure to check before they date a guy, and although you may not realize this, an oversized penis would repulse more women than one that's undersized. May I take a peek?"

Ann quipped up and said, "Josh, this is not something that we'd ever share regardless if it were large or small. This is a private medical or psychiatry issue, and I'm sure one of us can help you."

I was surprised that I had no phobia about standing up and pulling my slacks and shorts off for the two doctors to take a look. They remained seated in opposing chairs which brought my penis about even with their eyes. I was surprised when Karen pulled a tape measure and a steel ruler from her white jacket pocket. I was flaccid when I removed my clothes, but I was fearful it would begin to grow as soon as Ann held my penis firm so Karen could measure me. I heard Karen say, It's barely under three inches, mom. I'm going to tickle his scrotum and attempt to get him erect for a measurement."

I noticed as Ann stroked my cock, while Karen massaged my scrotum with her sensitive fingers and licked her lips, and said, "That's much better, Josh." She pulled out the ruler again and said, "5.5", and now I want to measure the circumference. 1.75" perfect." Josh, I brought a chart so let's see where you fit."

Ann said she didn't need a chart to know my penis was at least normal, but Karen said I was about a half of an inch longer and over a quarter of an inch thicker than the average adult Caucasian male. Karen changed the subject and asked me if I had a family doctor, and when I said no, she said, "Josh, you do now. I want to see you in my office for a complete annual exam next week."

It was Ann that saw my urethra oozing precum and wiped it off with a Kleenex before I dressed and say, "Josh, why do you feel inadequate down there? You're above normal, and you have a perfectly shaped penis that has been circumcised to perfection. You're any woman's dream!"

Karen was on her way out the door and suggested I should try to take the last appointment for the day. "I can take more time than when patients aren't waiting."

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Josh was looking forward to seeing Karen again, but he realized she would never stoop so low as to put out for an eighteen-year-old. When I arrived, Emma, her older assistant was standing by the door to unlock it. Their last client had already left, and she took me directly to the examination room and helped me complete a new patient form. Emma wasn't much to look at, and she was at least fifty with gray hair and brown eyes hidden behind thick glasses.

She said she needed to prep me for a complete examination and led me back to the Asian room divider to remove my clothes. "You'll need to remove everything, Josh. I'll give you a paper gown after I weigh and measure you." I could tell she had done this many times before and didn't waste any time checking my naked body out.

She did not attempt to avoid eye contact and had no problem saying I had an attractive body for an eighteen-year-old teenager. She had me stand on the scale while she fiddled with the weights to achieve an exact number before filling in the appropriate blanks with 6'1" and 162 pounds. Emma unfolded a white gown, held it open, and commented that I wouldn't be wearing it long.

Dr. Karen Pembroke popped into the examination room after a soft tap on the door and dismissed Emma for the day, after cautioning her to be sure to lock the door when she departed. I saw her wash her hands thoroughly with soap and water and after she dried them she applied a medicated cream to keep her skin soft.

She had barely left when Karen said it seemed warm and removed her white medical jacket, which revealed her tight thin braless sports top. I was confident I would have an erection before she had me lie back on the examination table while she fluffed a miniature white pillow to make me more comfortable.

I quickly learned when Karen said I was going to get a complete examination that she meant complete. There wasn't a part of my body she didn't touch as she checked everything from my reflexes to my prostrate. It was after she finished with the basics that she had me lie on the examination table and said she planned to check me for testicular cancer and take a sperm sample when she was finished, but first, she wanted to check my body for hernias.

My erection had softened until she started probing my groin with her tiny fingers, as she watched my eyes to see if I flinched when she touched a tender area. She spent several minutes running her fingers over my balls and the cords that hold them in place, which she called vas deferens. By then I had precum drooling from my urethra, and she repeatedly dried the sticky residue with her index finger and then used a wet wipe to cleanse her finger.

I was surprised that she didn't use latex gloves except when she fingered my prostrate glan, which she said was smooth and normal in every way. I was wondering how she would take a sperm sample after she took three tubes of blood from my arm and said all she had remaining was to collect some sperm.

She retrieved another vial from the cabinet, which Emma had already identified with my name and an ID to report the findings back to Karen. I saw the vessel was tapered with an opening large enough to contain the urethra to prevent sperm loss when I ejaculated. She asked me to masturbate while she watched, but I resisted.

"Would you feel better if I do it for you, Josh?" My dick was ready immediately, as she wrapped her sweet ring-free fingers around my steely shaft after she applied some lubricating lotion. She kept pausing to wipe precum from my urethra, as I was enjoying her pleasurable stroking. She asked me to give her notice before ejaculating so she could point my helmet into the glass reservoir.

Karen commented that I obviously didn't have a problem with premature ejaculation syndrome and finally brought a spectacular eruption as she used her other hand to tease my swollen helmet. I nearly filled the jar, which she covered with a rubber cork before she said she'd never seen such a colossal load. She wiped my penis dry and said she was finished with the exam, but she planned to repeat similar exams every year to catch any developing medical issues before they get out of control.

As I drove home, I realized an angel was treating me for a disease and that she showed confidence in her ability to cure me. I felt like a new man knowing I wasn't abnormal, but school was already over, and I had my sheepskin hanging on my bedroom wall.

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