By littlechasteguy
A few years ago, after several interviews, I finally got that good job I’d been seeking. The last step was to pass a pre-employment physical with the companies chosen doctor. The HR person gave me a sealed packet of forms to be completed and the name of the doctor to call. I was somewhat taken aback as the doctor’s name was obviously female, and that meant she’d likely have to see my teeny weenie, something that I tried to avoid happening. My teeny weenie measures just under four inches (ok, closer to 3 ½ inches) when fully erect while being very thin, less than 3 inches in girth. When flaccid it is not much more than a skinny little nub.
I called and made an appointment for in the afternoon three days later. I made sure I didn’t jerk off in between, so that at least I would be likely to show a swollen penis, better than a flaccid little nubbin if I needed to expose myself.
I arrived at the doctor’s office at the appointed time and it was obvious that I was to be the last patient for the day. In fact, I think they were staying late to accommodate me. The waiting room was empty except for me, and the receptionist locked the door behind me and turned the sign to show the office was closed. Within a few minutes an attractive, young medical assistant named Vicki came out and led me back to a rather spartan exam room, swinging the door most of the way closed, but still open a crack. She then told me to remove my clothes so she could get my vital statistics.
I removed my clothes except for my underwear. Looking rather impatient as she stood by the scale, she said, “C’mon. All of them.” Sheepishly I slid my underwear down, exposing my partially erect, yet shamefully small penis. I noticed a slight grin on her face as she told me to come over and get on the scale so she could measure my height and weight. She checked my weight (165 lbs.) then proceeded to check my height. As she raised the measuring arm she gave me a little pat on the ass as she said “Move forward a bit so it will reach.” Then looking at my little erection she added, “You have plenty of room.” By this time I was at my near 4 inch maximum length protruding straight out. After measuring my height (5’7”) I was told to have a seat on the exam table so my blood pressure and temperature could be checked. All was well.
Vicki then told me I needed to provide blood and urine samples. She pricked my finger and filled several small glass tubes with blood samples. As she handed me a plastic cup for urine she informed me that for chain of custody purposes she would need to witness me peeing into the cup. “Come with me,” she directed, opening the door and walking down the hallway. Naked, I followed her down the hallway to the bathroom, grateful that no one saw. Holding the cup in my left hand, and my little erection between my right thumb and two fingers, I managed to squeeze a little urine through my hard penis, filling the cup about half way. As I handed the cup to Vicki she looked at the sample, looked down at my little erection, and said, “I guess it will have to do.”
My luck didn’t hold out on the return trip to the exam room. As I left the bathroom, there were the receptionist and two black ladies, apparently the cleaning crew, standing in the hallway. They both snickered as I covered up my penis and squeezed by.
Back in the exam room I was told to lie down on the table and that the doctor would be right in. I asked Vicki for a sheet to cover up and was told that this practice had stopped using such items to keep costs down.
A few minutes later, just as my erection was beginning to soften a little, in walked Doctor Karen Simpson, along with Vicki. Dr. Simpson was a tall, attractive, blond, probably in her mid forties. She shook my hand and introduced herself. Noticing that my little weenie was pointing straight up the doctor told Vicki that she should remain in the room.
As I laid there Dr. Simpson took the packet and told me there was a medical questionnaire to complete first, and then she would perform the physical exam. She walked around the room asking me various questions about my medical background. Eventually she reached the section regarding sexual history and practices.
“Ever have sex with a man?” she asked. Being honest I replied that a previous girlfriend used to make me perform oral sex on another one of her boyfriends. “I see,” was her nonchalant response. However, I was sure Vicki was trying to suppress laughter. And my little weenie was now beginning to throb. I began to wish I had jerked off before the appointment.
“Do you use condoms for protection when you have sexual intercourse?” was the next question. I hesitantly stammered out a, “Yes.” I’m pretty sure she left the questionnaire, when sensing my hesitation, the doctor asked, “Do you have any trouble finding condoms that will fit and stay on. You are quite a bit smaller than average.” Now I knew Vicki was stifling her laughter as she watched my little weenie pulse. I could only respond by saying that I’d found a shop that orders extra small condoms for me. “Good,” replied the doctor.
“Last question: Do you currently have a sex partner, and how often do you have sex? If not, how often do you masturbate?” I’m sure I was bright red as I related how I have a girlfriend, but she thinks I am too small. So mostly I provide her with oral sex. I masturbate once or twice a day normally. “I understand,” was the response. “And does she have other partners?” Sheepishly I answered, “Yes. She tells me she needs sex from someone who is more well-endowed.” She jotted down some notes, and mentioned that some additional blood tests were to be ordered.
“Ok. Let’s check you out now.”
She put on rubber gloves and gave the form to Vicki, so she could complete the paperwork as the doctor performed the exam. The doctor then began with the physical exam, poking, prodding and using her instruments. She checked my eyes, throat, heartbeat, breathing, reflexes and internal organs. She had me get up and demonstrate balance and coordination by standing on one foot with my arms extended, the touching my nose. Then, she checked flexibility by having me lean over and touch the ground. As I was bent over she gave me a little pat on the ass and said I could stand up.
Then came the part I was dreading. “I need to check your sexual organs.” I nervously nodded and stood there, hands at my side, as the doctor took my little erection in between her thumb and forefinger. “Obviously this works, in a sense,” she noted, “even if unfortunately for you it is a bit small.” She smiled as she gave it a couple of squeezes. I nodded my head in agreement, trying to think of anything I could to avoid squirting in her hand.
Dr. Simpson then took my ball sack in her right hand, manipulating them around. “Your testicles seem to be healthy, if a bit underdeveloped,” she noted. She went on, “Tell me, when you ejaculate, do you seem to ejaculate a normal amount. I mean compared to the guys your girlfriend made you perform oral sex on?”
By this point Vicki was almost openly laughing as she jotted down notes and avoided making eye contact with me. I could only reply with the truth. “No. I usually produce a smaller amount. Nothing like some of the other guys I’ve seen.”
“That’s what I thought. But don’t worry,” she told me. “Just because you are small doesn’t mean there are any health issues. You seem to have found ways to achieve sexual satisfaction despite your rather diminutive size.”
“We need to check a couple of more things. First let’s make sure you have no hernia problems.” With that she stood at my side and put her left hand between my ass cheeks, in the area between my ball sack and anal entrance. With her right hand she cupped my ball sack. She checked several areas, asking me to cough each time. I’m not sure if it was intentional but as she checked various areas her right forearm was applying pressure to my throbbing penis. I was panting and on the edge of cumming. By the time the hernia exam ended my little weenie had a drop of precum on the tip and I was involuntarily moving to and fro, as if fucking the air.
I was beginning to tremble, and my breathing was coming in short gasps. I was on the edge of orgasming. The doctor waited a few seconds for me to regain some sense of composure. “One last check is all. Then we will be done. I need to check your prostate.” I gasped and almost cried when Dr. Simpson put some lube on her right index finger. “Please climb back and lie down on the table,” which I did. “Now Vicki I will need your help here. Stand behind his head.” The doctor then lifted my legs and had Vicki pull them toward her so that my ass was in the air. “Keep your arms to your side and get ready. This might be a little uncomfortable,” she warned. Then her finger entered my ass.
That was it. I could take no more. I started shaking, rocking around and holding on to the edges of the table. Vicki strained to hold my legs still as I grunted and a wad of cum shot out of my little weenie onto my chest and face. The doctor also held on, keeping her grip on me and her finger in my ass until I settled down. “That’s ok,” she comforted me. “Let’s finish this exam. Vicky, when we are done please note in his record that he has an unusually strong anal stimulative response.”
I was still shaking as she removed her finger, utterly humiliated and babbling something about apologies. “It’s ok,” the doctor said. “You can get dressed now and clean yourself up.” She then left the room. Vicki stayed, finishing the paperwork and giggling as I dressed. Already totally humiliated and in a hurry I simply used my fingers to scoop the cum off me, then licked them clean.
Vicki then escorted me out, again patting me on the ass and quietly saying, “Thanks little guy. It was fun.” As I left she added, “You poor thing.” I hurriedly scooted out, hoping I still had the job.
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