This is a work of gay fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely unintentional. This story's main themes are dominance, mind- control/ manipulation and reluctance. Please do not take this more seriously than it is intended.
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CHAPTER 4 - Josh
"We regret to inform you that your insurance does not cover HGH-X5 at this time"
Never in my life have I felt as deflated, depressed and discouraged as after opening my most recent message from "Small No More". Literally 24 hours after hearing that I appear to be a "prime candidate" for hormone therapy based on my clinical profile, I am told that my insurance won't cover the treatment I so desperately need. This is the worst emotional whiplash I have ever experienced.
The week started off great. Within hours of submitting my initial application through the Small No More website, I received a response from them. The message confirmed receipt of my application. It stated that everything looked great, and that they were ready for me to take next steps with them.
The message explained that next steps would include undergoing some non-invasive testing, for which they would mail all necessary supplies. It went on to say that testing was needed to establish the "before levels". As in, my own Human Growth Hormone levels before starting their medication. Without precise before levels, it is impossible to say with certainty whether hormone therapy is working.
The paragraph that explained this read: "An accurate before profile enables us to prescribe the correct hormone therapy cocktail. This will ensure that we destroy the hormones that are currently conspiring against your growth and are preventing you from becoming the man you want to be."
I felt a tad offended reading the final words of that paragraph. "The hormones that are preventing me from being the man I wanna be?" I mean, shit, first price for stating the obvious? Oh, and also, do you have to call it out like that? Ok, you got me. My dicklet is so tiny, you need a magnifying glass to see it. Do I feel like a real man? Nope! I didn't think they needed to rub it in like that. It felt a bit unprofessional.
The use of the word "destroy" made me chuckle. It's one of those words that you don't expect in a medical brochure or in an email message from a legit medical company like Small No More. It is not really a word that is used all that much in general - unless you are my housemate Travis of course. It's one of his favorite words. He loves to destroy. He destroys thirst (when he drinks water). He destroys every opponent he meets when he goes out and plays baseball. Oh, and of course, let's not forget the most important one. Travis works out every day (and it shows, dude is ripped) and he loves to talk about how he destroys laziness and weakness every time he hits the gym that his dad had installed inside their basement. It's a shame I cannot share this email with him, he would be so excited to see a company like Small No More use one of his favorite words.
Not that I am planning to tell him anything about all of this, obviously. My Small No More journey will be shared with people in my life on a need-to-know basis. As of today, the people on the need-to-know list are no one, ever.
Travis finding out my growth plans has been somewhat of a worry for me all along. He and his attached-to-the-hips best bud Taylor have been at our place 24/7 this past week. While all of us are perfectly cordial to each other, I always feel a little bit awkward around them. This past week, things have been more awkward than normal.
Travis is pretty much ok. He and I don't really have anything in common, or at least, nothing I am aware of. He just tolerates me and we don't really interact a ton - other than making sure there's enough food in the house, and being on the same page about what day the cleaning crew is gonna visit, etc.
It's his best friend Taylor who I cannot figure out. There is something about him that makes the hair in my neck stand up sometimes.
One day this week, I got back from a ride on my mountain bike, and I was wearing this pair of shorts that fit me tighter than most of my clothes. I parked my bike in the shed and started to walk towards the house, when I noticed that Taylor was hanging out in the backyard. He was seated in the grass, more or less halfway between the shed and the backdoor. He was working on cleaning his cleats, which had gotten really muddy at last week's baseball game.
The spot he decided to sit down at gave him a first-row seat to the thrilling action sequence of me coming home, parking my bike, and then walking 15 steps from the shed to the back door.
Well, he clearly enjoyed the show. Not only did he openly follow every step I took with his eyes, right when I got ready to open the backdoor, he casually made a comment about my ass! I don't remember it word for word, but he basically said that he could tell that all this biking I do is really paying off for me and has rated me with a "first class bubble butt."
He followed up his comment by reminding me that I was more than welcome to start working out with him and Travis (no thanks), and that either one of them would be willing to teach me proper weightlifting (thank you for offering, but no).
I turned beet red when Taylor gave me his unwelcome ass appraisal. I get embarrassed easily, and I blush quickly. When you are as light complected as I am, and you start blushing, there is no place to hide.
Even though I knew that Taylor didn't mean anything sexual, and that he was just talking to me as a muscle jock, his comment made me feel super exposed.
This backyard incident happened just two days after I had an equally uncomfortable encounter with him in the kitchen. I came home from school this one afternoon and decided to grab a quick glass of ice water from the fridge before heading upstairs to my room. Taylor was hanging out in the kitchen, seated at the massive kitchen island in the center of the kitchen. He was on his phone and didn't even look up at me when I entered.
When I got to the fridge and pushed down on the waterspout, Taylor got up from the stool he had been sitting on. Within a couple of seconds, he was passing behind me, apparently on his way to the pantry to get a snack. As the space between the kitchen island and the fridge is only a few feet, Taylor turned his body sideways to pass behind me. While that move should have given him plenty of room, Taylor ended up brushing his crotch against my ass hard enough to where I remember my body instinctively tensing and even pushing back to ensure that my head wouldn't get knocked against the fridge door.
To make this moment extra awful, Taylor wears shorts year-round, and, I am 99% sure he goes commando most, if not all of the time. I know this because, well, you cannot miss his junk swinging side to side when he walks by. It's always there, reminding me of something I have never done in my entire life. Feeling your junk sway from side to side while walking confidently.
When Taylor brushed his crotch past me, I clearly felt the outline of his large tool brushing past my butt cheeks.
Taylor immediately apologized and said he lost his balance there for a second. Even so, the incident gave me a funny feeling in my stomach. I am not saying he did it on purpose, but there was something about that moment that stuck with me as not feeling right.
Despite this awkwardness between me and Taylor, the week continued to go extremely well. The Small No More testing went forward without a hitch. The testing materials arrived literally 24 hours from the moment they sent the email message mentioning them. Thank God for their discreet packaging, because the person who got the mail that day was Travis, even though I was on the lookout for the mailman. Thankfully, he didn't bat an eye when he handed me the package. All he said was something about "parts for your board" (aka my skateboard), which I obviously did not contest.
The test package contained clear instructions on how to collect my urine sample. It was as complicated as peeing in a cup, soaking this little swab stick in my pee for exactly 90 seconds, and then quickly sealing the stick with the swab into a plastic baggy that was provided in the test kit.
I mailed my sample the same day I received the package. As in, my pee sample was on its way to the Small No More laboratories in Atlanta, Georgia literally 30 minutes after I opened the test kit.
Two days after mailing the envelope with my pee sample, I received another message from the Small No More clinical team. It stated that the results of my urine analysis show me to be a great match for their flagship medication "HGH-X5".
HGH-X5 is the medication that drew me to Small No More the first time I studied their website. The medication is a synthetic kind of Human Growth Hormone. In clinical trials, HGH-X5 has proven to be five times as effective in treating certain growth anomalies than Human Growth Hormone alone.
The email said that my hormone profile makes me a "Prime Candidate" for HGH-X5 and that the only thing left is for my insurance to approve it. They explained that while more and more insurance policies cover HGH-X5, there are still many that don't pay for this therapy, even when it is clearly medically necessary.
The message contained a link to upload a copy of my insurance card. Since my dad is doing his "Debt Erasure" Tour and now works for this mammoth sized government contractor, I felt 100% confident that the insurance would cover this. I quickly uploaded the copy of the insurance card and closed my laptop, trusting that things were moving in a very positive direction.
Now, 24 hours later, my hopes are dashed.
"We regret to inform you that your insurance does not cover HGH-X5 at this time"
I am in complete shock. Just when I got some hope that there is a solution out there for me, my dad's insurance company is ruining my prospects of growing a visible-to-the-naked-eye fuck-stick.
The email explains that there are self-pay options available. I qualify for a "deeply discounted rate", which, depending on the needed dosage, will cost "between $25,000 and $40,000 per year."
I swallow hard to prevent tears from forming. I don't understand how I ever thought this would work, and I am beating myself up for believing that there would be a solution for me and my anatomical deformity.
There is no $25,000 in my present or future, there is definitely no $40,000 in my future, and there is no cure for my situation.
As I get ready to delete the cursed email, I catch something at the bottom of the message. The sentence explains that for those of us who don't have $40,000 lying around, there are "natural alternatives that may be worth looking into." While those alternatives "are not as potent and effective as HGH-X5", some "hopeful growers" may find benefit in this approach.
I immediately click on the link. My browser takes me to a page that is titled "Natural Alternatives to "HGH-X5".
The page starts with some quick reminders of the HGH-X5 medication. It reminds the reader that HGH-X5 basically mimics the effects of naturally occurring Human Growth Hormone. The important difference is that because it is synthetic, the medication is way more potent than "Naturally Harvested" Human Growth Hormone.
I wonder what they mean with "Naturally Harvested" Human Growth Hormone. I mean, are we talking blood-plasma? Or do I go and scrape a little skin off a fellow human being, and grow some Human Growth Hormone from it in the family fridge? Or start dumpster diving in hospital parking lots, and "harvest" some medical waste?
The article explains that when HGH-X5 was tested in large scale clinical trials, it was compared to two control groups. The first control group got a placebo, like a sugar pill of some kind. However, the second control group received "Ethically Harvested Natural Human Growth Hormone." The placebo control group experienced no growth of any kind. While HGH-X5 caused five times the growth results than the second control group, the Natural Human Growth Hormone group did show a benefit from the treatment.
The report says that the test subjects who experienced the most significant growth from Naturally Harvested Human Growth Hormone were males who had reached a height of at least 5'4" without any therapeutic intervention, and who were in the 16 to 19 year old age group.
I find myself holding my breath after reading that. Wow, I am in! While not by much, I am tall enough (by an inch), I am definitely male, and I have two years left to get this done.
The article urges potential participants to set a realistic expectation. This includes accepting that the natural approach will not deliver the rapid and explosive results that HGH-X5 does. That said, candidates who are male and in the right age and height group "will likely see gradual growth results", especially if they start their journey with the freely available medical supervision from the Small No More team.
There is some additional language around "dosage". It says that there simply hasn't been enough research done to know with certainty how much HGH an individual needs. Therefore, the Small No More approach will be to start gradually, and increase dosage as needed. This method ensures safety as participants work on their mission of eradicating "unwanted smallness".
I softly squeeze my little pecker as I read the final paragraph.
The article wraps up by promising that all consultative services will be delivered free of charge, as long as the "Grower" (Small No More does not believe in the label "Patient", they treat people who want to grow, which is why "Grower" is the only label allowed in their corporate culture) agrees to have their data included in scientific studies. No identifying data will be shared, the only information collected will be around growth outcomes, and what kind of dosage was needed to achieve them.
I take a deep breath as I am processing all the information. Of course, I would much rather have immediate results. Who doesn't? But if that's not in the cards, this gives me at least an inkling of hope for a bit of growth that I so desperately need.
Knowing that I do not have another option available to me, I click on the link, enter my Small No More Grower ID and submit my request to be enrolled in their "Natural Alternatives" program.
As soon as I log off from the Small No More website, I feel the need to jack off.
Ever since applying with Small No More, I have been hornier than any time before in my life. While jacking off three times a day is not unusual for me during normal times, during the last week and a half, I don't think there has been a single day I jacked off fewer than six times.
Also new. As in, never happened before. I am constantly jacking off in front of my enormous bedroom mirror, checking myself out, instead of jacking off to any of my favorite blond bombshells from my porn collection. Ok, I am not literally checking myself out. I have been getting off from looking at myself and imagining that I am tugging on a huge six-inch cock instead of my pinky sized junk. It gets me off really hard.
The renewed hope I feel after enrolling in the Natural Alternatives program at Small No More causes me to need a quick jerk session right now. I kneel on the floor and face the mirror. I took my shirt off earlier today, so when I tug my shorts all the way down to the floor, I have an unobstructed view of my fully naked body.
My little cock jumps up happily, hard as a rock. I grab it with my thumb and index finger and stroke it just a couple of times. It twitches, even though I am barely even stroking it. I lean my body back a bit. I love how that makes my stomach and chest look tight as fuck. I also feel my leg muscles tensing when I do this, which somehow makes my cock feel even better.
I check out my body. Whatever I lack in height, I make up for in lean muscle. Most of my muscle mass is definitely in my legs (yep, including my bubble butt, Taylor wasn't wrong when he noted that). I also have mad definition in my abs. Since turning sixteen, I started doing at least one hundred crunches every day. It took me about three months to transform the six-pack I already had into a legit eight-pack. I also do one hundred push-ups every day, and I rock climb several times a week. This has given me a lot of muscle definition in my arms, chest and back. I watch my abs tense and relax as I stroke my thumb and index finger back and forth over my little cock head while gently rocking my weight back and forth.
I can tell I am not going to last very long, so I decide to switch positions. While I stay on my knees, I turn 90 degrees to my right. Now I am watching my body from the side. Again, my bubble butt is kinda stealing the show here, but that's not where my eyes are wandering. I look at my crotch, and imagine my cock grown all the way to a full six inches.
I change my hand grip, instead of stroking with just my thumb and index finger, I place my full fist on my little cock. This makes my fantasy feel way more realistic, even though my fist is too large to jack my little cock off. It doesn't matter. I am so into this that I start to feel my tiny balls draw up within seconds of my position switch. My eyes stay trained on my first, pumping fast now. In my imagination, I see this enormous six-inch cock being stroked to completion. It's not super girthy, it's just thick enough. It's more straight than curved, and it's cut.
And it's gonna blow any second.
I start to grind my hips, fucking my hand. I love how my hand feels, wrapped around my enormous six-incher. I notice my bubble butt flexing. Damn I've got some junk in my trunk! My eyes dart back to the front of my body. I imagine my favorite blond babe from my favorite porn site in front of my enormous fuck stick. I start to grind harder. She likes it hard and rough from behind, and while she would never mess with a micro, she is getting wet as fuck from my huge rock-hard tool.
I feel my nuts draw up, and I start shooting. I cum hard, harder than I expected, this being load number four for the day. The towel I used for loads one, two and three is still on the floor where I left it, and most of my cum lands on it. The first volley overshoots the towel and lands on the floor. I make a mental note to clean it up as my cock keeps spewing cum, now on the towel. I lean my upper body back which makes the last two volleys spray straight up in the air, and land on my crotch. I love how leaning back like that makes my orgasm feel so much better.
I clean up and decide to grab my bike for a quick ride.
While I am still a bit sad about my insurance not covering HGH-X5, I feel hopeful and optimistic about the Small No More Natural Alternatives program. As I bike away from the house, I have a big grin on my face. I cannot wait to learn about "ethically harvesting" a therapeutic amount of Natural Human Growth Hormone.