My story: from 'oh, shit' to 'holy shit!'
In my late 20s, I found myself in a locker room shower with a guy who had just thrashed me on the squash court - not unusual; it's not like I was a good player. But seeing him naked really bummed me out - he had long, full dick that hung toward the floor. I glanced down. My little unit, barely larger than my thumb, seemed to point straight out. A week later, it happened again: loser on the court, loser in the locker room - with a different guy! I started to wonder if my penis was abnormally small.... Sex had presented no problems, other than that 'lost in space' feeling with a woman whose vagina was a size larger than my penis, and I'd been around plenty of naked guys, in boarding school, swimming pool showers and saunas in Europe. But now I started remembering things. Things like pissing with one of my high school friends. As he stood with his hands on hips, I had to push my penis downward with my hand, or risk splashing myself from the back wall of the urinal.... I consoled myself that my height exaggerated the appearance of my penis, which it did - but that only made the 'problem' worse. Was I normal? I found a book for teenage boys about sex which addressed the size question, giving the range of 'normal' flaccid sizes.
My size was the lowest 'normal.' I measured between 2.5 - 3.5 long flaccid, and barely more than an inch across. My 6" erection was normal, but seemed thin. My penis even felt small to my own hand, despite having nothing to compare it to! Changing toilet paper one day, it occurred to me to measure the toilet paper tube. At 4.5" long, and a little over 1.5" wide, it made a decent facsimile of a big 'normal' penis. I dropped my pants in front of the mirror.
"Oh shit," I thought as I looked at the tube, "some guys are actually THAT big!" I wondered what that would feel like. Meanwhile, I knew what I felt like: terrible, and terrible about feeling terrible: in my early forties, a grown man with a happy marriage and a good sex life, I suffered anxiety about an issue I'd created in my own head. "Get a grip," I told myself. We visited San Francisco, and a gay friend's local paper included an ad for penis enlargement weights. I'd never heard of anything like that. I took the ad, but basically forgot about it...until some time later, listening to Brian Tracy's Psychology of Achievement audio series, I heard him ask, "What's the one thing you'd accomplish if you didn't know it was impossible?" I had been focusing on building our business, but with that one question I entirely jumped tracks. My answer was loud, clear, unmistakable: I'd get a bigger dick. Definitely impossible. I then remembered the ad. I wrote for a brochure. The weight hanging device I saw in the photos seemed ridiculously expensive. It also looked ridiculously simple to duplicate, if I could find materials. But one important question remained, and I somewhat sheepishly called their order line. It wasn't the sexual aspect, I explained, that bothered me, but my locker room appearance. Would that improve? The man's voice on the other end assured me that increased flaccid size was "a happy side effect" of using weights. I found latex tubing at a hardware store. After some trial and error, I ran a thick string through it, tied a knot, and slipped a rubber hose washer over it. From that, with an s-hook, I hung a small sack holding tire weights (free from the local auto garage).
It worked. For a tiny fraction of the cost of commercially produced penis weights, I had my own. The real cost of this design, however, lay in the way it twisted the penis head upward (I can perceive that in mine to this day), the small and critical contact area which cut off circulation, and the limited weight I could use with it - six pounds (under 3 kg) maximum.
Of course, I didn't start with six pounds, but one, and gradually added weight as the weeks went by. Regardless, within a week I sensed results. After four months (140 hours of hang time), I'd gained over an inch in length, and some definite thickness as well. The gains seemed to slow to a stop (I kept careful records). The numbers don't tell the whole story, though. Driving, I found myself distracted by a bulge next to the zipper of my pants. Over a few months, it grew until it formed a cylindrical bulge down my leg. For the first time in my life, my dick was visible in blue jeans! In bed, I heard my wife say for the first time, "Whoa! You're huge!" And I had that wonderful, wonderful feeling of really filling her up. A few months later, in early 1997, I put together a tiny web site with limited bandwidth, to share my discoveries. In achieving my 'secret longing,' I discovered a new aspect of myself: inventor; and the joy of helping others, anonymously, for free. P.S. - ten years later, I still sometimes think "Holy shit!"
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