5 comments/ 255226 views/ 43 favorites The Ample Patient By: JackBro My desk is layered with paper. Unopened mail forms a mountain in one corner. Rejected insurance claims forms a smaller mountain – more like a hill – in the opposite corner. Between is a low valley of checks and billing statements. For the last two hours I've been trying to finish entering the week's payments into the computer, but I keep getting interrupted by nurses, patients, and phone calls. It looks like it is going to be one of those late nights again. I figure I have about three hours worth of work to finish up. It's an hour before my supposed quitting time. I glance out through a small window to see a near-empty waiting room. Only two patients remain. One of them, I already know, will be quick. She is a 16-year old girl who bashfully asked upon her arrival if the Doctor was female. This tells me that she wants a boob job. She will go in, whine about her life being miserable because she's got a flat chest, and then Doctor Polichvich will give it to her polite but straight. The second patient will be quick too. She's back for a follow-up. The woman received breast reduction surgery two weeks ago, and she is back for the standard two-week follow-up appointment. Follow-ups take only a few minutes – assuming the Doctor does not discover an infection or other complication. I work as a receptionist in a Doctor's office. Most people think a receptionist just calls out your name when your turn comes up to see the doctor. Actually, it carries a lot more responsibility than that, especially when you work in a small, private practice like I do. I also carry the responsibility for the medical files, billings, schedule, and answering the phone – plus I call out the name of the occasional patient when their turn comes up to see the doctor. I work for Doctor Susan Polichvich. Her specialty is reduction mammaplasty – which means she's essentially boob doctor to you and me. She specializes in breast reduction and enlargement surgery, and that is how I first met her. Not for a boob job like the 16-year old in the waiting room, but just the opposite. I walked into her office about two months ago to ask about breast reduction surgery. I am cursed – or blessed, depending on who you ask – with a set of double-D tits. I loved them when I was younger. I found a big set of tits were terrific when I wanted to get noticed or have a conversation with the most gorgeous stud in the room. They still work wonders, but as I got older my priorities matured. Often, I found my tits caught me the wrong kind of man. And then there is all that weight on my chest, plus the way the bra straps chaff my shoulders. So, on a whim one afternoon as I was driving home from my last day of work, I stopped to ask about getting them pared down to size. She gave it to me polite but straight, just like she will do for the 16-year old. First, there are medical dangers. Breast surgery is a relatively simple operation, but putting someone under the knife always involves risk. Second, there is cost. Doctor Polichvich is cheap, and she charges $2,000 a pair. Third, virtually no insurance covers the expense. Unless a medical need exists – like breast cancer, for example – insurance companies don't pay for cosmetic procedures. That was the real clincher for me, the cost, especially just after I was laid off my job as a receptionist in a dentist's office. I was ready to leave dejected, but not quite. "In every cloud," as my Grandmother always used to say, "there's a silver lining." Sometime during my conversation in Doctor Polichvich's office, I mentioned that my now former employer retired and I just lost my job. He let me go home early on my last day, and that is why I had time to stop by and do a little "boob shopping." Lucky for me, Doctor Polichvich just happened to be looking for replacement receptionist for her own practice. Her receptionist gave a two-week notice just one week before. Polichvich needed a replacement, but she had been too busy to advertise or to interview. She asked if I wanted the job on the spot. * * * * "Next patient Martha," One of the nurses pokes her head in through the doorway. "Lucy!" I stand to call the 16-year old. "The doctor will see you now. If you still want to go in?" She takes a deep breath and nods to me. I take the clipboard with her chart – which isn't much of a chart because it's her first and probably only visit – and show her the exam room. "I'm going to see the female doctor, right?" She questions nervously. "We have only one doctor here," I explain. "And yes, she is still female. Just try to relax. She's real nice." "Do I need to undress or anything?" "Not yet," I tell her. "A nurse will be with you shortly. She'll ask some basic medical questions, and then she'll let you know if you need to get undressed or not." The young girl gives me a nervous nod. I hang her chart on a hook beside the door, and do a quick change of the sign to say, "occupied." One down; one to go. Maybe I can get out earlier than I think. I take a quick glance into the waiting room to see the follow-up patient still waiting. I had hoped she maybe got tired of waiting and decided to leave, but no such luck. At least nobody else joined her. We sometimes get surprise patients at the end of the day. I hate it when patients think they can stroll in right at 5:00 PM and expect to see the doctor. The sign on the door says we close at 5:00 PM. That means everyone in the office is supposed to leave at five, not that the last appointment is at five. I sit back down to try to finish entering the checks into the computer. Most offices would hire a consultant to do this, but Doctor Polichvich can't afford one. She refuses to "use my talent as a plastic surgeon to cater exclusively to the rich," as she puts it. That's part of the reason she located her office in what I call the underprivileged side of town. We sit in a strip mall with a liquor store on one side and a donut shop on the other. I don't know how many square feet we occupy, but I can say the waiting room sits just 6 patients and we have only 2 exam rooms. The dentist I used to work for had more space than this. As for my own office, it isn't much either. I long ago concluded the builders must have added it as an afterthought. The walls form a triangle with my desk parked tight up against one wall, the door to the exam rooms occupies the second, and a small window looking out into the waiting room sits in the third. I have to always keep an eye out into the waiting room to make sure no inebriated liquor store customer walks in by mistake. "Excuse me," A deep, masculine voice interrupts my progress. "I hope you can help me." I glance at the clock on the computer. "4:45 PM" "Another last minute customer," I think silently to myself, but then realize the voice comes from a man. And what a man! I look over to see a set of deep blue eyes glair down at me from the open window. He looks gorgeous, a beautiful smile centered on a handsome face. On his head sits a mop of long, blond hair. His chin supports a cute dimple in the center. And those blue eyes! I can't get over those deep, blue eyes! "I sure hope I can," I answer more assertively than I should. "I mean yes, are you here to pick someone up?" The words sound strange coming out of my lips. I hope he is here to pick me up, but then I think of the 16-year old I just showed inside. If this is her boyfriend, a boob job might very well be worth the expense. "No, actually I'm here to see the doctor," He corrects me. "Oh! Then you must be an acquaintance," I conclude. I wonder if he is her new boyfriend. Susan – I mean Doctor Polichvich – never told me about this one! "No, no acquaintance," He corrects my assumption. "I've never met her before. I'm here as a patient." This confuses me. A male patient to see a boob doctor? It doesn't make sense. There actually is such a thing as breast reduction surgery for a man. The medical term is Gynecomastia, but this man is obviously in no need of Gynecomastia. He already has the perfect body. I've been working for Susan six weeks now, and this is her first male patient. "Excuse me," I lower my voice to speak more discretely. "I don't think you understand. You see, Doctor Polichvich is a plastic surgeon who specializes in the female breast. You know, like breast enlargement, reduction, or plastic surgery after a mastectomy. This is her outpatient office." He smiles back at me. It is a beautiful smile. I only wished it belonged to a brighter guy. But then I suppose he doesn't need to be bright, not with his good looks and all. I hear men talk about dizzy blonds. I think this must be the equivalent in the male variety. "I'm well aware of the Doctor's specialty," He lowers his voice to match my own. He has a sexy, quite voice, one of those voices that sounds like a whisper but remains perfectly clear. "Actually, that's exactly why I am here. I work at a club two blocks down the street," He motions in the general direction. "I drive by her sign all the time on my way to work. I always found it tempting, so today I left early to stop by." He leaves me thoroughly confused. He wants an appointment with a doctor that works on boobs, but he is most obviously a man. He sounds intelligent, yet he makes ridiculous requests. I start to wonder if the guy might not be all there – I mean, in the head. "Please," He almost pleads. "I just want a word with her. Don't worry, it's got nothing to do with my breasts or the breast of anyone else. I am just hoping she might point me in the right direction." "Um, I don't know," I stumble, not knowing what to say. "We close at five, you know, and the Doctor normally refuses appointments after four-forty unless it's important." "I can return next week," He offers. "How about next Friday? I prefer as late in the day as possible. I start work at seven." The last thing I want is for this nut case to return – well, let me put that a different way. Actually, I want this hunk of a man to return again and again, but it's just that nothing he says makes sense. What kind of job only starts at seven at night? And he says he works two blocks up the street. The only businesses two blocks up the street are an adult video store and a strip joint. I wonder if he might be one of those sleazebags who hangs out at X-rated attractions. He certainly doesn't look like your typical sleazebag, but then I start to think maybe he is a pimp. "I'm sorry," I tell him. "None of this makes sense! Doctor Polichvich is busy with real patients. If you want to see a doctor, you really need to go to your own physician or you can always stop by County Hospital." A look of disappointment comes over his face. I worry I might have upset him. Even worse, I worry he might be a little crazy and maybe I just pushed him over the edge. "I really am sorry," I try to console. "I understand," He accepts. "But let me first explain. This is a bit embarrassing, but once I explain my situation I think you will understand. Could I at least ask you to carry a message back to the doctor to ask her if she is willing to see me?" I remain confused, but nod my head anyway. "I guess so," I accept him. "Good! Then please tell her I only request she point me in the right direction. I don't expect her to do the surgery herself. It's not her specialty, but I figure her specialty is closely related. I'm hoping she might at least be able to provide me enough information to show me where to go. Maybe she even knows a name?" I shrug my shoulders. "She might," I don't know what else to say. He hasn't told me anything yet. "It's like this," He speaks more quietly and his head almost comes through the window. I smell him, and he smells good. There's something about strong, handsome men that makes them smell good. "I just logically figured a Doctor who does plastic surgery to reduce breast sizes in women," He speaks shyly. "Well, she might know something about reducing penis size in a man." I think my eyes pop out of my sockets. My jaw most definitely drops to the floor. I can't believe what I have just heard! I wonder if I really heard what I thought I heard! I think again that he might be a nut case. And then I wonder if he might be part of some practical joke. April fool's Day was over three months ago. My 28th birthday is approaching, but this is a bit early for a gag gift. "Excuse me?" I almost choke on my own words. He repeats himself, and I hear it again. "I'm here to hopefully get some information on penis reduction surgery," He says. The gears in my head turn quickly. He said he worked at the club two blocks down the street. The strip joint club! And Friday night is Lady's night – or so I've heard. I never went myself, but I could not help but overhear a few patients in the waiting room occasionally joke about the male strippers on Friday nights. Women can be such sluts when no men are around. And what he asks actually carries a strong thread of logic. A doctor trained in breast reduction surgery might logically know something about penis reduction surgery too – if there even is such a thing. I never heard of it myself, but then I'm no doctor. Who knows? "I understand!" My face must look like it has been blessed with some cosmic revelation. It takes me a few seconds to come back down to reality. "Now I understand, but I'm not sure if the doctor would be willing to see you or not," I admit truthfully. "I've only just been on this job for six weeks, and you're the first patient to ask such a thing. I used to be a receptionist in a dentist office, and we never had to worry about things like this." I realize I am rambling. It is what I do when I get stressed. For some strange reason, I talk when I get stressed out. Rambling relaxes me, and right now I need a lot of relaxing. My pulse races. I think my hands shake. It is a good thing I am already sitting, else I probably would have fallen over. "Anyway," I force myself to shut up. "I'll go ask her." He looks pleased. He gives me his great big smile again. His teeth are so white they sparkle. And those eyes! "That's all I ask." He turns back into the waiting room, giving me a view of his entire body and of his behind. This is the first time I get a view of his entire body. He is a big man – in more ways than he just pointed out. A muscle shirt shows off his bulging biceps. Tight shorts display a tight ass. I figure he must weigh in at about 250 pounds, and I bet there isn't an ounce of fat on him. * * * * * I have trouble getting up from my desk. My legs feel numb. My heart continues to race. I need time, time to think. I feel as if I just saw a ghost. "Did I really hear what I thought I heard?" I ask myself. "Did a fabulously handsome man just ask me about reducing the size of his penis?" I know what this means, of course. A male stripper wanting his dick pared down to size can only mean one thing! It is obvious! He must really be hung! I naturally want to know how hung, and then I remember the strip joint. I make a promise to myself to visit next week. I will sneak my way into a seat in the back corner so he won't notice, and then I will check out his size. Doctor Polichvich and the young girl come out of the exam room just as I step out of my office. "What about those pills they show on those commercials?" The young girl cries. "Bogus, I'm afraid," Susan wraps a consoling arm around her. "They're just specialty formulated vitamins. You can try them if you want. They won't do any harm. But it's cheaper if you just eat healthy and take standard vitamin supplements." I silently point to my office, not wanting to interrupt but needing to get her attention. Polichvich nods. "There's no charge because I really didn't do anything," She continues to console the young girl. "Come back if you need to talk." I duck back into my office as Doctor Polichvich bids the young girl goodbye and gives her a few pointers. She hands over a pamphlet hanging on the wall that has the numbers for various support groups and the suicide prevention hotline – just in case. "You need me?" She pokes in her head a minute later. "Close the door," I tell her. "I need to talk to you about a request of a walk-in." "Do you mean Mrs. Alvery?" She looks out to the reception area. "Do you think she's having complications?" I shake my head. "Not her, the other one." Susan looks. "Wow! What a hunk!" She takes in a breath. "I didn't even notice him! I must be getting old." Susan isn't that old, maybe in her mid 40s. I can tell she still has good tastes in men. We don't often talk to each other about our private lives, but I know from the two nurses that she's twice divorced and currently lives with a guy. "He's an even bigger hunk than you think," I urge her to sit on the folding chair that suddenly appears from behind the door as it closes. I don't want him to see us talking. "You have me interested!" She laughs. "But what on Earth are you talking about?" I suddenly find myself at a loss for words. How should I say it? How should I phrase his question? My naturally gabby personality goes away and leaves me embarrassed. "Well?" Susan prods. "I have one patient in back and another in front!" "Actually," I correct her. "You have two patients waiting in front, provided you care to talk to him." "What about?" She questions. "Is he growing boobs or something?" She laughs, but I fail to see the humor. "I told him I would pass on his question," I begin shyly. "But it's kind of embarrassing just to ask it." Susan seems to understand my reluctance. She sits back in the chair and waits. I suppose this is the same way she has to treat a lot of her young patients when they are too embarrassed to ask about breast reduction or enhancement surgery. She must simply wait until they are ready. "The guy might be a little crazy," I first give my personal opinion. "Or maybe this is all part of some elaborate joke. I don't know! I just know that he asked me to pass on a question and ask if you would be willing to see him." Susan nods without talking. "It's like this," I give it to her straight. "The guy is interested in a reduction, but not to his boobs." She returns a look of confusion. I hoped my hint would be sufficient for her to understand, but apparently not. "What I'm talking about," I lean over and almost whisper into her ear. "He asked about reducing the length of his penis." I do not see her reaction. I am leaned over too close to her face to see it, but I hear it. I think she stopped breathing. Maybe her heart started racing like mine. "Interesting!" She quickly recovers. "Very interesting!" "He knows it's not your specialty," I revert into my rambling mode. "But he logically figures you can maybe send him where to go. He asked if he could like maybe talk to you a few minutes. Maybe you could give him some suggestions or the names of some doctors. Maybe you know some fellow plastic surgeon who might be able to help." Susan nods while I ramble on. She leans back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling, and seems to think. I don't know if she hears me. "It appears as though I would be a fool not to see him," She concludes after I finish. "Wouldn't you agree?" She smiles, and I know what she means. "Yes," I agree. "I wouldn't mind seeing him too!" She laughs at this remark. "Then tell him he can come in, but he will have to wait until my other patients are through. Treat him just like any other patient. Start setting up a chart on him. Get all his personal information. Ask for his name, address, allergies, medications, phone number…" She needs not go on. "And one more thing," Susan pauses at the door. "Ask him his length and how much he wants it shortened." She says this professionally, with no emotion. I do not even realize the impact of her words until she turns the corner and disappears. The Ample Patient "And set up Mrs. Alvery in Exam One," She yells from down the hall. My mind reverts back to my job. I open the window, call for Mrs. Alvery, and lead her back to Exam Room Number One. One of the nurses takes over and the other prepares to leave. I go back to my desk and start a new chart. "Excuse me," I call out the window to the weightlifter sitting in the undersized chair. "I'm afraid I don't know your name." "Jonathan," He stands up to join me at the window. "Jonathan Demetres." He looks just as good from the front as he does from behind. Broad shoulders show off a hard chest. His blond hair makes him look German or maybe Swiss, but his last name sounds Russian. I can't help but fantasize him as a soldier of fortune sneaking across a boarder with a machine gun slug across one arm and a grenade launcher on the other. I only wished I was dressed better to meet him, like perhaps in a low cut blouse to draw his attention to my ample cleavage. Instead, I must talk to him while wearing a standard issue white uniform the same as what the doctor and the two nurses must wear. "The doctor agreed to talk to you," I inform him as soon as he is near enough. "I spoke with her, and she says she will see you as soon as she is done with her scheduled patients." "Great!" He gives me that wonderful smile again. "It will be about a fifteen minute wait. She's already got two other patients in back." "No problem," He is very accommodating. "Actually, I figured I would have to wait a lot longer." "And while you wait, I have a couple of standard questions that I have to ask all first time patients," I chime in. "I know you just want to talk to her, but I still have to ask you a bunch of stuff about allergies, allergic reactions, current medications, etcetera. It's the rule." He nods. I sit down at my computer and go down the list. I get his name, address, telephone number, occupation…" "Construction manager and part time male stripper," I think I hit the delete key a dozen times to type in his 7 words. I already knew the answer, but actually hearing a guy admit that he's a male stripper is kind-of erotic. "Allergies?" "None." "Allergic reactions?" "None." "Any prescriptions or any other medications you are currently taking? "Just vitamins." "Any diseases or conditions you want the Doctor to know about?" "Nothing." All in all, he looks to be in perfect medical health, but then I could have determined that by just looking at him. Finally, I get to the bottom of the form where it asks for "Other pertinent information?" I think about Susan's last instruction and wonder if she was serious. "There's one other thing Doctor Polichvich wanted me to ask you," I turn to face him, which I immediately regret. As soon as I see his face, I get embarrassed. I think my face turns bright red. "It's kind of an embarrassing thing to ask," I take a deep breath and start up again, this time without looking. I keep my eyes on the computer screen. "The thing is, if you were a woman, Doctor Polichvich would want to know your cup size and what you want to change it to." "Flaccid and full?" He replies without hesitation. He immediately understands, and unlike me is embarrassed at all – but then I suppose that's from working in a male strip joint. I mean, if I stripped off my top to a room of strangers every night, I suppose I wouldn't be embarrassed at telling a man my cup size either. As for his question, I'm not sure of the answer. Susan wasn't specific, but I know the question I want him to answer. "Full," I take a gulp and look at him. "Twelve inches." My legs go numb again. I can't move. This incredible hunk of a man just told me that he has a 12-inch cock. My God! What a whopper! I never knew they could grow so big. I type something into the computer, but it is nonsense. A lucky thing he can't read the screen from where he stands – I hope. "And I'm interested in paring it down to nine." Nine inches! Even a 9-inch long cock is huge. The biggest I ever experienced was seven, and that was a plastic dildo. I can't imagine what it would be like to take a real live 9-inch cock deep inside me, much less twelve. "Is there anything else Nurse?" I realize he talks to me. I remain frozen in place, unable to move. I type more nonsense into the computer. "No!" I answer almost in a shrill. "I mean, no, nothing else. We're done. You can go back and take a seat for now." He backs away and leaves me to my own thoughts. I need to be left alone. I need to think. I need to calm down. My heart races and my hands shake, and they do so even more than before. I find myself unable to remember the location of the letters on the keyboard. And then I wonder if he noticed. "Did he notice my amazement?" I ask myself. "Did he hear my gasp when he said his length?" I figure I must have turned red with embarrassment. My body nearly drips with sweat. I stand up to get a drink of water. I go to the small bathroom, splash my whole face with water. I try to calm down, but the only thing I can think about is the 12-inches. At that length, he would extend upward beyond his stomach. I look in the mirror at my own tummy, and I try to picture how far his 12-inches would extend inside me. I try to measure it out with my hand and nearly come up to my chest. "My God!" I think to myself. "His dick would practically go up my throat." It takes a few minutes before I am able to return to my desk and finish the last line on the form. "Current length," I type. "12- inches. Desired Length: 9-inches." It looks strange, but I type it out anyway. I print out the results and attach it to a clipboard. He still sits in the waiting room. I glance over to check, but try not to look. I want to make sure he didn't leave my life, but he still sits waiting. I try to go back to the billing statements but have a hard time concentrating. All I can think about is him. I can't believe such a good-looking guy and such a big dick sits so close to me. I feel this tremendous desire to call all my girlfriends and tell them to quick come over. I will tell them later, of course, but they won't believe me. I also feel a desire to call Bob, my boyfriend. Well, he's not my boyfriend any more. We broke up a few months ago, but I sure would like to use his dick tonight. I feel a tremendous desire to call him over to my apartment and ask him to screw my brains out. I'm in need of a good fuck. I have a long session planned with my dildo this evening. I wish I had it with me right now. "Goodnight Dawn," I hear from behind me. "See you bright and early Monday morning." "Have a good weekend," I tell Betty, one of the two nurses. She leaves right at 5:00. The higher paid nurses get to leave on time and the poor receptionist has to stay until the work is done, but on this night I do not mind. I turn back to my work but only think about his cock. I type $112.12 into the spreadsheet by mistake. I can't get the number 12 out of my mind. I pause to think about how long it must be when flaccid. A 12-inch hard-on must translate into something like a 6 or 9-inch softy. I mean, the thing must extend a third way down to his knees! I pause again to think about its girth. I wonder how wide it must be. A long cock logically requires a wide support, or so I would think. I suppose it could be long and skinny, but probably not. I figure longer cocks must also be wider cocks. "She say how long?" I jump at the words. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jonathan apologizes. He stands at the open window. "I'm not in any hurry or anything, but it just looks like you're closing up." "We close at five, but don't worry," I assure him. "The Doctor will still see you. The nurses are always in a rush to get out of here on Friday nights." "Except you," He looks at my desk. "You look like a dedicated nurse who stays all hours." I'm tempted to tell him that I am no nurse; just a receptionist, but I figure it doesn't matter. "Somebody's got to get the work done," I tell him. "Besides, I don't have any real plans for tonight anyway." I contemplate the plans I have for my dildo right after I say this. "Alone on a Friday night," He consoles me. "I figure a cute little thing like you would have a date every night of the week." I think I blush with embarrassment at the compliment, especially considering the source. I can't believe I'm doing this, having a conversation with a handsome stud with a 12-inch dick – or at least that's according to him. I have a disturbing thought: How do I know he isn't exaggerating? I mean, every guy likes to exaggerate about his size. I don't think many would take the time and trouble to go to a doctor and risk embarrassment just to exaggerate his size, but you never know. In Jonathan's case, I think he tells the truth. Besides, even if he exaggerates by only 1 or 2 inches like most guys do, he's still plenty long." "You can always come over to the club later," He suggests. I think I blush even more. "Sorry, but I'm not into that sort of thing." He laughs. "That's what they all say, but every girl enjoys a good strip show." He pauses and then adds. "At least after they get a look at me." I believe him! "You ever been to a male strip joint?" He asks. I shrug my shoulders. "Sort of." "What do you mean, 'sort of?'" "I've never been to a club," I explain. "But I've seen male strippers before, like at bachlorette parties, you know?" "Boy do I know!" He rolls his eyes. "I used to do those things myself, but not any more. Too dangerous with all those drunk and horny woman around. They get one look at me and… Well, they nearly raped me a few times!" A shiver goes through my body as I think about this. I wonder how "nearly" they got. I wouldn't mind raping him myself. "Sorry if this embarrasses you," He must notice my reaction. "Maybe I should just go back and sit down." "No," I don't want him to leave. "I was just thinking back to the bachlorette party." I lie. I find myself actually enjoying our conversation and want him stay, and it's not just because of his long dong – at least I don't think so. I think it's because I'm getting used to him. He's a good conversationalist. He actually seems to be an intelligent, nice guy – or maybe it is just because of his long dong. "I suppose a Nurse doesn't need to go to strip joints," He thankfully decides to stay. "You see nudity all the time in the office." I laugh. "I suppose that could be part of it." I notice he again mistakes me for a nurse, but again, I don't bother to correct him. "Sort of like a male gynecologist going to a strip joint," He comments. "The guy probably gets sick of looking at it after a while. I laugh some more. He's actually quite funny. "That might be true," I decide to tell him about me not being a nurse. "But I should probably tell you that I'm not…" Doctor Polichvich cuts me off in mid-sentence. "Mrs. Alvery is done," I hear the Doctor behind me. I never heard her approach. I wonder how much of our conversation she overheard, and I especially wonder if she heard the part about me being a nurse. "She's getting dressed right now and will be out in a minute." Susan hands me the clipboard and chart, which I take to be filed. Meanwhile, Jonathan backs away and now sits down. "That him?" She takes a quick glance out the window. "Sure is!" I tell her. "Very nice," She takes an interest. "Very nice indeed. And did you ask him?" I know exactly what she wants to know. "Under the comments section," I hand her his chart; the chart I printed out earlier. "Really!" She takes one look at the paper and then another look back out to the waiting room. "At least that's what he said." "No wonder you were talking to him. Got a date yet?" I grow red with embarrassment. Susan smiles and then proceeds to call him in. "Mr. Demetres," She opens the door to the waiting room and speaks to the patient directly. She never does this with any of her regular patients. "I am ready to see you now, if you would like to come in?" "Thank you very much," I notice Doctor Polichvich even holds the door open for him. "I hope this isn't too much of a bother for you. Martha already told me that you usually close at five." "No problem at all," She winks at me. "My only problem is that the other two nurses need to leave at 5:00, so I will require Nurse Martha to assist me." She winks at me behind his back, so he doesn't see. I distinctly notice her use of the title "Nurse." Obviously, she overheard our conversation. I don't know what to do. "Go with Jonathan into Exam Two," Susan comes to my rescue. "Show him the room. I will join you in a minute, just as soon as I show Mrs. Alvery to the door." I automatically get up. I still don't know what to do, but I know how to follow orders. "This way," I walk past him to open the door to the second examination room. Normally, this is as far as I go. I lead patients to the room and then allow the nurses take over. But for this patient… "She seems kind-of strict," Jonathan comments as I follow him inside. "Must be difficult to work for." "Not really," I defend the doctor. "Actually, she's quite nice after you get to know her." We talk for the few minutes it takes for Susan to finish up with Mrs. Alvery. She seems to be taking an abnormally long time, but I don't mind. I like talking to Jonathan. Besides, it gives me the opportunity to take the occasional glance at his crotch. It looks more swollen than most men, but it's hard to tell. He sits down on the examination table. I remain standing and try to look busy by going through some of the overhead cabinets. I have no idea what I'm doing. I just try to make it look like I am a nurse doing a routine check to make sure everything is in its proper place. "I'm a little nervous," He admits. "I don't know what to expect. I've never been to a woman doctor before." "That shouldn't make any difference," I tell him, feeling a little nervous myself. "A doctor is a doctor." "I know," He agrees. "I guess I'm just a little worried she might want to examine me and ask me to undress." I hope she does, but I keep the thought to myself. "I assume she just wants to talk to you." "That's what I figured," This seems to relieve him. "But then why did she ask you to join us?" I turn to face him. "Actually," I decide to be honest. "That's a good question. I've been wondering the same thing myself." Just then, Susan enters. "I forgot to introduce myself earlier," She holds out her hand. "I'm Doctor Polichvich and I understand you are Jonathan Demetres." They shake. "I hope you don't mind if Nurse Martha joins us," She glances at me. "She's new and you are an usual case. I hope I can use this as a teaching opportunity." "Not at all," Jonathan accepts. "I was just telling Martha that I'm a bit nervous. I think it might actually calm me down if she stays." He smiles at me. I try to smile back. "Now there's absolutely nothing to be nervous about," Susan wheels out a short stool. She sits and wheels it over closer to him. "Now, I understand you want to enquire about penis reduction surgery." "Does such a thing even exist?" He quickly asks. "Of course," Susan answers. "You ever hear of sex change operations? They can make it shorter or even take it completely off if you want." Jonathan laughs. "Oh no! I don't want to go that far!" Susan laughs along with him. "I didn't think so, but I must warn you that the operation is very rare. And the more rare the operation, the more risk it entails. No operation is completely risk free, and there's always some danger." Jonathan nods. "And it is also expensive and only a few doctors are capable of performing such an operation," She goes on. "I can give you some names and references, but first I'd like to ask some question. I'd like to know exactly why you want this surgery? I mean most men would do most anything to get it lengthened." "Lots of reasons," He quickly answers. "I suspect it's not much different than a woman blessed with big boobs. It's very desirable at first, but as I've gotten older…" I notice him glance at me as he says this. I wonder if it is a random glance or if he notices my big chest. In either case, I know exactly what he means. "Basically, let me just say that mine is a little too big," He goes on. "It's gotten me a lot of attention over the years. It certainly brings in big tips at the club, especially when you're the star attraction," He speaks proudly. "But I think I'm ready for something a little shorter." "Exactly how short?" "Well," Jonathan thinks. "The way I figure it, most women are accustomed to 6-inch cocks and they think 7 or 8-inches is a lucky catch, so I figure 9 would be just about right." Susan thinks about it too. "That's logical. What do you say Martha?" I think my heart skips a beat at the sound of my name. So far I've been a passive observer; observing mostly his crotch. I realize Susan wants me to express my opinion. "Um, yea, I guess so," I answer shyly. I feel embarrassed at having to give my opinion on male cock size. "And there's a second reason why I would like it shortened too," Jonathan rescues me – but only temporarily. "This is a little more personal, but I want it for better sex." "Better sex?" Susan sits up. "Why do you say that?" "Because some women can't take 12-inches," He explains. I think I gasp. Luckily he doesn't hear me – or maybe he ignores me. "Most women can, but it's difficult," He continues without a pause. "It's a tight fit and I always hit virgin territory, but most of them can take all of it just fine." The mention of virgin territory sends a shiver up my spine. "But the point is that some can't. Sometimes I'm too wide. I just can't open their cunts far enough to accommodate my size. And sometimes I hurt them because I go in too deep. Their twats just aren't deep enough. It usually happens to the short or the petite ones, you know, girls sort-of like Martha." I gasp at the sound of my name, and then I gasp again at what he just said about girls like me. I realize my heart again races, just like it did back in my office when he first told me his size. "Excuse my language," He apologizes. "Maybe I shouldn't use the words 'cunt' and 'twat'." "That's perfectly all right," Susan accepts. "It's not exactly the correct medical terminology, but you are in a Doctor's office. Use whatever you are comfortable with." He nods. "So what you're saying," Susan summarizes. "Is that if you were suddenly given the opportunity, for example, to have sex with Martha right now, you may not be able because of your tremendous size." "That's about right," He looks at me and nods again. "Her cunt might be too tight to penetrate or her twat too shallow for me to screw in my full length." I step back to the wall in defense of myself. "And what makes it especially frustrating," He continues. "…Is that I often find myself attracted to shorter girls. I would really like to get to know someone like Martha a lot better, but when you're unable to have sex it can be a little difficult on the relationship." I am about ready to fall over and faint. A cold sweat hits me in the face. My heart races like I have just run a mile. "Your reasoning sounds very logical," Susan stands up from her chair. "I can tell you've thought a lot about this." "I have!" He agrees. "Then let's go on to the second part of the examination," She nods. "It just so happens that I've had some training in this area back in medical school. Although I've never performed the operation and I am not qualified to do so, I would like to take a look for myself to make sure there aren't any redeeming features that might prevent you from having this operation. The nearest facility I am aware of is in Chicago, and I would hate to send you all the way to Chicago for nothing." The Ample Patient He nods. "Sounds reasonable." "So if you don't mind getting undressed and giving your clothing to Martha," She smiles at me. "And Martha, if you could stay with Jonathan and get me when he is ready." I stand in a complete state of shock. Did I hear her right? Am I imagining things? I feel as though I am in a dream. According to Susan, I am supposed to stay in the room while he undresses. I can't believe this is happening. Before I can object, Susan leaves and Jonathan begins to undress. He starts with his shirt. "You were right," He tells me. "She is very nice." I realize he refers to Susan, but I quickly forget about Susan. He takes off his shirt and hands it to me. I am awestruck. The guy is a complete hunk. His chest looks hard as a rock. His arms are about as wide as my calves. He's got muscle all over. I picture him as one of those shirtless construction workers spending all day running a jackhammer. My head tells me to leave. This doesn't seem right. I should not be in the room with a patient when he undresses, especially a male patient and especially considering I'm not even a nurse! But another part of me refuses to go. I know what part speaks loudest. I start to feel it in my cunt – my tight cunt, if I am to believe Jonathan. He removes his shoes and socks next, and then he starts unbuckling his pants. I accept each item after he removes it, first holding his shoes in my hands and then extending my arms so he can deposit his clothing like a worshipping subject to his queen. "Where did you work before you worked here?" He attempts idle conversation. "A dentist office," I can hardly speak as I watch his zipper lower and his slacks split in two. "I didn't know that dentists hired nurses," He says in surprise. "I thought they used dental hygienists." I remember my cover and the lie I told him about being a nurse. Well, actually, I never did lie to him at all – at least not yet, but I'm about to. As he pulls down his pants and displays the sexiest set of black bikini briefs I have ever seen, I can't help it. The large bulge in the center of his briefs forces me. "Most are, some not," I lie. "Some dentists like to keep at least one regular nurse in the office just in case something unusual…" I can't speak. He uncovers it. It hangs down further than my last boyfriend's pointed up. The thing looks to be at least 8-inches long, and it's still flaccid! I am in dick heaven. I realize Jonathan didn't exaggerate. He's hung like a horse! "That makes sense," He replies as though nothing is out of the ordinary. "I guess you never know when someone in the Dentist office might have an allergic reaction or a heart attack or something." "…Or something," I speak drearily. He places his black briefs on top of the rest of the clothing I hold in my hands. I can't move. I stand in place, mesmerized. I look right at his equipment and am amazed. He's got the biggest dick I have ever seen, even better than in any magazine or x-rated movie. He is long, uncircumcised; with a thick mushroom on the top. And the rest of his naked body is terrific too. He's the sexiest guy I've ever laid eyes on. "You like it?" His question interrupts my thoughts. "I'm sorry," I suddenly feel tremendously embarrassed. I shake my head and return back to reality. "Sorry, I didn't mean to look." I try to leave the room. "That's okay," He smiles back at me. "Remember, I work in a strip joint. I'm used to women looking." He smiles at me, and I suppose I smile back. I'm not sure. I'm not sure if I'm still alive! I take a deep breath and attempt to calm down. "I suppose I better get Doctor Polichvich," I briefly turn to him and look again. "Fine," He says simply. "I'll be waiting." I clumsily open the door and leave, but at the last moment I take a last look at him as though to make a check on reality. * * * * * "Well?" Susan asks the moment I enter. I realize I still hold his clothing in my hands. I realized it just after I left the examination room. I don't know why I took them and why I still hold them, but I can't very well turn around and return them now. Instead, I step into the second examination room to find a place to lay them down. I see Susan with a chair pulled up to the examination table, sorting through a pile of paper. "Well?" She asks again. "Did he exaggerate or not? Is he really as big as he says he is?" I am unable to speak. By the look on Susan's face, I think I already have the answer. She takes his clothing from me. And then, to my complete amazement, she drops them into the trashcan. "What…?" I start to say. "We better get back to complete the examination," She interrupts. "We?" I question, distinctly noticing the way she uses the term for both of us. "You don't have to if you don't want to," She leads the way out. "But I figure you deserve a reward. You've worked for me six weeks now and you're the best receptionist I ever had. Consider this kind-of like a bonus." She holds the door open. I consider her offer. She gives me second thoughts, but I quickly dismiss them. The choice is clear. * * * * * We enter the examination room with Susan in the lead. "What do we have here?" She calmly speaks as she looks up and down his naked body – mostly down. Jonathan stands and looks down along with her. "Now you can see what I mean." "Yes, I can see why you might be interested it getting it shortened!" She looks right at it, speaking very professionally, like a doctor to a normal patient. I can't believe how calm she can be around such a long prick. I, meanwhile, almost stumble when I see it again. It looks even longer than when I left. "How about you lay down so I can get a better look," She tells him. "And Martha, step on over to the opposite side of the table so you can observe." He obeys like a puppy to its master. I can't believe the way he also remains so calm. I think the room must be about a hundred degrees. With me standing on one side of the examination table and Susan on the other, she picks up his dick and fondles it in her hand. She raises the head and places the length down on his stomach. I notice it extends beyond his belly-button – and it's still soft! "Looks to be about eight or nine inches in its flaccid state," She speaks as she looks at it. "I don't see any obvious problems. No defects that I can notice." Neither do I! "You always use protection?" She questions. "I mean with intercourse. Do you always use protection?" "Most of the time," He answers. "That's not good enough!" Susan scolds. I notice she gives his dick a little squeeze as she says it to emphasize the point. "Don't worry," He assures her. "I know I guy who got aids because he screwed around a lot – or at least I used to know him. Died about a year ago. We used to work together at various strip joints, and every night we would each take home a different woman. It was really wild back then." He laughs. "What about now?" Susan questions. "How many partners do you have in a typical month?" "That's the thing!" He answers. "After seeing what he went through, I stopped sleeping around. Stopped sleeping with strangers every night – or at least I mostly stopped." A brief wave of sorrow passes through me. I feel sorry for all the women who will never get the opportunity to experience his substantial bulk – especially myself. "So you are now a one woman man?" Susan asks. "Well, not quite one," He laughs. "Actually, it's three. I have three girlfriends that I fuck on a regular basis – or I should say that I have sexual intercourse with three women on a regular basis. I suppose I shouldn't use that word, 'fuck,' in a Doctor's office?" "Don't worry about it," Susan shrugs it off. "It's not as though I never heard it before." "Anyway," He continues. "I don't much worry about condoms with my girlfriends. They don't sleep around with other men. They don't need to, you know. After I get done with them, they don't need anyone else." I have no trouble believing this. "But once in a while I'll pick up some cute, hot little thing," I notice his eyes glance at me. "Maybe once a week I'll notice someone in the audience or maybe meet them around town, but I always use a condom when I'm with someone I don't know. I'm very good about that. I don't want to end up like my friend." Susan nods. "I also get HIV tested on a regular basis," He adds. "The club requires it because many of the younger guys still sleep around, and I'm sure most of it is without protection. They're idiots!" Susan nods. Through all of this, she continues to fondle his cock. She first moves it to one side and then points it to the other. I see her stretch it upwards as though to gage how long it must be in a fuller state, and then she allows it to relax and flop back down again. A few times she even takes a closer look by lowering her eyes. I half-expect her tongue to lurch out and lick it – I know I would, given the opportunity. I can't believe how professional Susan remains as she fondles him. I also can't believe how calm Jonathan is. I mean, if he was any of my old boyfriends, his cock would have sprang to attention at the first touch. "Now don't jump," Susan warns. "But I need to check your testicles also." He does not jump at all. Susan lowers her hand and takes hold of his balls. She takes each of his nuts in her hand and gently feels them all around. "And I don't notice any obvious problems down here either," She continues to feel. "No obvious lumps or abnormalities that I can detect, but if you don't mind me asking, about how many times per month would you say you have intercourse?" "Just about every night!" He answers succinctly. "Given my size and with three girlfriends, I'm in high demand." "Good," Susan acknowledges. "Because I notice your testicles feel larger and more swollen than normal. That's probably because of their frequent use." "Yea," Jonathan agrees. "They get milked on a regular basis." I almost faint. I mean, I've heard the term "milked" before, but never in relation to a man's nuts. But then I realize the term is actually quite accurate. In effect, the nuts of a man are milked every time he has intercourse. He even produces a milk-like liquid. I just never thought of it quite that way before. I can't help but want to milk on Jonathan. Susan finally removes her hand completely from his body. It is only at this point that I realize she never bothered to put on gloves. Normally, a doctor is supposed to wear gloves whenever she examines a patient, but I notice Susan used her bare hand. "I'm sure I already know the answer to this," She is not quite done yet. "But I have to ask it anyway. Have you ever had any trouble with sensation?" "Sensation?" He questions her meaning. "Have you ever had any trouble getting it hard?" She rephrases. "Of course not!" He answers. "Not even for a short time? Not even temporarily, like after a particularly intense masturbation session, for example?" "Never!" He answers again. "That's good!" She concludes. "The reason I ask is because of nerve damage. It's important to check for nerve damage." "I don't think I have any nerve damage," He says. "My cock operates just fine." "I'm glad to hear that," Susan lets out a slight chuckle at this. "That's all I have for now, except there is one more thing I can check if you want." She backs away, and Jonathan stands up. He stands with his back facing me. This is a bit of a disappointment for a moment, but then I notice his ass. He's got a great ass. Not as impressive as his cock, of course, but I've always found myself attracted to a tight, firm ass. "This may be a bit embarrassing for you," I hear Susan speak to him as I continue to admire his buns. "The decision, therefore, will be left totally up to you. If you want to leave right now, you may, but there is one other aspect of your penis that I would like to check." "What is it?" He asks curiously. I am curious too. Susan seems to have checked just about everything she possibly can check on his cock. "I'm afraid that in order for me to do a full examination, I need to check one more thing," She says. "Before I can fully access the impact of an operation, I really should check your cock when it is in its full state." I stumble. My knees give out. I fall back against the counter and use it as a brace to prop me up before I fall completely to the floor. "Please Martha," Susan scolds me. "Be careful. I know the floor is a little wet and slick back there. You have to be careful." I gather myself back up again. "Sorry," I apologize. Luckily, Jonathan didn't see me. Without missing a beat, Susan returns to the naked patient before her. "It's totally up to you, but if you would like a complete examination prior to going all the way to Chicago, I have no trouble giving you one." Jonathan thinks about it. It looks as though he thinks about it very hard. "What about Martha?" He asks about me. "What about Martha?" Susan questions back. "Do you want her to leave?" "No," He says to my amazement! "Actually, I'd like her to stay, if you don't mind? I'm getting nervous again. She's good at keeping me calm." It's a lucky thing I hold onto the cupboard behind me, else I would have been sure to fall down again. "That's fine," Susan smiles at me. And then, still looking at me, she continues talking to Jonathan. "In fact, if you want, she can help you out. Most doctor's offices have erotic photographs and magazines to help the male become erect, but we don't need much of that here." She laughs and smiles at me. "So if you want, you can use Martha instead." Her smile becomes even bigger. "Martha, why don't you help Jonathan out by taking off your blouse?" "What?" I can't help but voice out loud. "You heard me! Go ahead and take off your blouse," Susan repeats. "Just unbutton your blouse and show yourself in a bra. It's no big deal! Jonathan's already taken off all his clothing, I'm only asking you to take off your blouse. And then come back to get me when he is ready." * * * * * By the time I return to reality, I find myself alone with Jonathan. I don't remember Susan leaving. It is as though I passed out and then woke up again a few seconds later. "Too bad you don't have any erotic magazines lying around," He speaks to me. "I wouldn't mind paging through the latest issue of Playboy, but you're beautiful enough to star in one." He smiles at me. I think I smile back. Maybe I blush. I don't know. All I think about is his cock. I glance down at it. It looks great in the flaccid state, and then I think about how much better it will look hardened. I have the opportunity to see 12-inches of male flesh. All I have to do is take off my blouse. I just have to show him my bra. It seems like a small price to pay, I mean, considering… My fingers move up to unbutton the top button of my uniform. Then they continue down to the second. I notice when I reach cleavage. I notice it in the reaction of his cock. It twitches. "Oh!" I let out a shrill. The buttons on my blouse continue to uncouple. My top opens. Glancing down, I see the heavy cleavage from my own tits. Looking forward, I see the affect on Jonathan's cock. It still points down, but it is definitely longer than before. "Very nice," He compliments. "Better than any erotic magazine." "Very nice," I want to say myself, but don't. I remain quite and only look. He elongates to 8 and then maybe 9-inches in length, and then it starts to rise. He stands up against the table and faces me at an angle. He stands at the perfect angle to show off his size, which makes me wonder if he does so on purpose. "Oh," I let out another shrill. "Very nice," Jonathan compliments again. His soft pecker grows into a giant cock, and then it continues to grow into a monster. It springs up quickly and soon points straight out of his body. And it not only grows longer, but it inflates wider too. My suspicion about long cocks needing a wide support is true. The sacrifice of my blouse is well worth the effort. I reach the last button and open the blouse. I pull back the curtain to show him the performance behind the stage. "Wow!" Jonathan speaks. "Very, very nice! You really have some whoppers!" "So do you!" I catch myself saying out loud. He looks down on himself. "Yes, I guess I do!" He speaks proudly. "Look at what you're doing to me." I do look! I look right at it! His cock rises from horizontal to vertical. And it continues to grow ever longer and thicker at the same time. The thing is truly a monster! It's bigger than my biggest dildo. There is no way I would be able to accept such a big man. I stare directly at it as I peal back my blouse and slip it down off my shoulders. "Do you like it?" He questions. "Oh yes!" I speak with more enthusiasm than I intend. "I mean, yes! It's a little big." "A little big?" He questions. "What does that mean?" I take a deep breath. "I mean it's big," I speak shyly. "It's as big as you said it was." His cock really does look to be about 12-inches long. I can't believe it! I am looking at a full 12-inches of male flesh. And not only long, but so wide too! I'm sure there is no way I could accept such a monster. Like he already voiced, I don't think I could open my cunt enough to accept it. And then I think about the depth and all the virgin territory he would be sure to reach. "Well, I like yours too," He tells me. "Something about short girls with big tits really turns me on. You have a very nice set of tits. What are they, double Ds?" I nod my head. "You already know my size," He tells me anyway. "12 long inches in case you forgot." "I didn't forget." I don't think I will ever forget. I wish I could take a picture and preserve the image for a lifetime. I can't believe I'm actually looking at such a gifted man. I mean it would be one thing to see a picture of him in a magazine, but I'm getting a live performance. "Do you now understand why I want it shortened?" He questions as he looks upon it himself. "It's just too big to fit in many women. It splits their pussies apart too wide. It dives into their cunts too deep. My cock is just too big for most women to hold." His words make me hot with desire. I feel a tremendous temptation to finger myself. I want to slip down my slacks and slip my fingers into my pussy. God, I am so wet! "Give me your professional opinion Martha," He turns to give me more of a side profile. "As a nurse but also as a woman, would you recommend I go through with the surgery?" I shake my head. "Why not?" I shrug my shoulders. "Tell me! Why not?" He wants me to say it. "Try to talk me out of having the operation." I shrug my shoulders again, but then speak. I figure I owe it to every woman on the planet. I speak for them. I have to try my best to talk him out of paring down such a magnificent length of male organ. "You can't," I tell him. "You simply can't! It's too, it's too…" I have a hard time saying it. "It's too sexy to make smaller!" I blurt out. "Why, thank you!" Jonathan accepts this compliment. "I'm glad you like it!" "I do!" I almost yell at him. "God I love it!" I can't believe I have just said this. I just told a man, a near stranger, that I loved his cock. "I'm sorry," I tried to pull the words back into my mouth. "I shouldn't have said that! I should be more professional. I've got to focus on my job as a nurse!" He laughs at me. "That's all right Martha," He speaks calmly. "I'm used to it. Lot's of girls have the same reaction, especially when it starts to penetrate." It looks even longer and wider when he models himself from the side. I can't help but stare at the monster. I want so much to run home and play with my dildo.