My story: from 'oh, shit' to 'holy shit!'

Several years past adolescence, I had 'one of those' locker room experiences. The guy who had just thrashed me on the squash court stood next to me in the showers. I didn't mind losing the game – I've never been real competitive. But this guy was HUNG. I glanced down. My little unit, barely larger than my thumb, seemed to point straight out.

I'd almost forgotten it a week later, when I again lost on the squash court and stood next to a huge, swinging dick that made mine look like a little boy's. But this time it was a different guy. I began to feel a little unsure of myself.

Sex was not a problem, other than an occasional 'lost in space' vagina. I'd been around plenty of naked people, guys of all stages in boarding school, coed saunas in Europe. But now little memories started rustling and nibbling at the edge of my consciousness. A good friend at age 15, taking a piss with his hands on hips, while I had to hold my penis down or splash off the back off the urinal. The swinging monster a classmate pulled out in the woods in eighth grade while I was still waiting for pubic hair. The 'normal' bulge in jeans that I didn't have.

Standing in front of the mirror naked, I tried to console myself that my height exaggerated the appearance of my penis, which it did - but that only made the 'problem' worse. My penis was barely bigger than my thumb.

In my insecurity, I ran across a sex question book for boys in a closeout bin, and of course it answered 'the question.' For an adult, it said, normal (soft) was:

• 3 - 4.5" (7.62 -11.43 cm) long
• 1 - 1.5" (2.54 - 3.81 cm) across

So I was 'normal,' but barely. My 6" erection was normal too. (Why did it seem so skinny to my hand? Especially with nothing else to compare it to?)

Changing toilet paper one day, I got curious and measured the empty tube. 4.5" long, a little over 1.5" wide – almost the same as a big 'normal' penis. I dropped my pants in front of the mirror and held the tube next to my little stub. 'Oh shit,' I thought as I looked at the tube, 'some guys are actually THAT big!' 

I wondered what that would feel like. I remembered shower encounters in the locker room. I felt 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 a gay friend in San Francisco at one point. Flipping through his local paper, I saw an ad for penis enlargement weights. What? I quietly clipped the ad, and carried it home – then basically forgot about it. 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 and clear: I'd get a bigger dick.

But that was definitely impossible. (I wondered if penis transplants existed.)

Then I remembered the ad.

I sent away for a brochure. The expensive weight hanging device in the photos also looked surprisingly 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.'

It was July 1996, and suddenly I was a man with a mission!

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. I started with one pound of weight, hanging 20 minutes, removing it for ten minutes, 20 minutes again. After a few days I added another half a pound, then another.

Within a week I knew something was happening. After four months (140 hours of hang time), I'd gained over an inch in length, and thickness as well. Then the gains slowed, stopped (I had kept daily records).

The numbers don't tell the whole story, though. Driving, I found myself distracted by the new bulge. Over those few months, it grew into a cylinder pushing down my pant leg. For the first time in my life, I had a dick you could see in blue jeans! In bed, I heard my wife say, 'Whoa! You're huge!' And I had that wonderful feeling of really filling her up for the first time, in over ten years together.

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. One guy wrote that he found my site just as he was about to go under the knife - canceled his doctor's appointments, saved a ton of money, and started to grow after having some girls tell him his was the smallest penis they'd ever seen.

By the way, I absolutely DO NOT recommend this design – it can cut off circulation and leave the head of your penis curving upward. But it did the job! Poke around my site for much better, more effective, and safer approaches.