Go back to his desk

Cary was nineteen and fine with being the jolly fat guy.

The world was brutal on fat girls. But the rotund guy with an easy smile, with a sympathetic ear, that was an identity niche that a boy could slide right into. From age thirteen Cary was the Friend Who Listened, who remembered birthdays, who could be counted on for support over text or voice. He had made a deliberate decision to value female friendships. But, High School being what it was, no one had an issue with a soft guy struggling to grow a beard, who could be counted on in group projects, who knew how to keep a secret.

This came with costs. It was broadly assumed he was gay. That was how these things went. But with some positive thinking Cary had seen a way forward: he’d eventually put on a little muscle, find a heavy-set girl with glasses, and wear her down with sincere compliments and thoughtful comments. It was a foolproof plan and, if he had been too shy to put it into action, at least it loomed in a comforting future. An attainable dream.

The working world was happy to have him in the workforce. There was much value in being the token male, the one who knew how to nod sympathetically. The girls were far from unfair about the arrangement. He was treated to lunch regularly. All of their letters of recommendation for transferring to a better college, those were done and signed.

“Everything good?” Evelyn said, when he emerged. He’d slid the offending penis down his straining underpants and then adjusted it next to his thigh. It was getting dangerously close to knee region.

“Oh, sure!” Cary said, positively.

“We think we heard a grunt,” Clara chimed in, from her own desk. They all faced the only window, overseeing the parking lot.

“Did you?” He’d struggled to **** it down his pants. Possibly he’d grunted. Did he need to buy bigger pants? Were there pants that could accommodate big dicks? He half-turned. Clara was tapping a pencil against her lips, regarding him gravely. She was wearing a baby blue blouse. Behind her, Jane was deep in thought, her brown boobs held up in a black tanktop. All of Cary’s deep-breathing, and facewashing, started to dissolve. He was surrounded by pussy. Available women.

“I’ve got man problems,” he said. Clara and Evelyn shared a quick, amused look.

“Man problems!” Evelyn crowed. “Oh, Cary. You got your man period? We’re period brothers? Oh my GOD. Man problems!”

“Evelyn, please,” Clara had the grace to look concerned. “Cary, you may disclose the nature of your man problems to us. We will be bros about it. This is a progressive workplace.”

“It’s–” Cary couldn’t seem to stop himself. And it would be easy to defer, joke it off. Something about his ego needing a massage. “Puberty. I thought it was all done with me but guess not.”

“Puberty,” Evelyn said. Her eyes narrowed. “Okay. Harmful… facial hair? I don’t know.”

“A growth spurt? I used to have growing pains,” Clara said. “You don’t look taller, though.”

“Maybe eventually,” Cary said, a little hopefully. That was a nice thought. Maybe this would end with him at six foot three. Maybe it had just practiced with his cock, to start. “But not yet. Just… bits. Right now. There’s some growage.”

“Bits… bits…” Evelyn looked confused, as if she’d run the various bits through her head, and couldn’t come up with an answer. Did they really not know? Or did they just want to hear it from him? “What kind of bits?”

He really needed to stop. He could not, should not, show the bulge of his cock to these girls. Although they needed to see it, needed to admire it. Needed to fondle and suck it. Needed to worship it, until all they were was useful toys to fuck it. He stood up, shuffled around. His dick had popped free of the little cage he had arranged and was trying to break his fly apart. He made a helpless gesture.

“Oh my GOD,” Clara said. Evelyn just mouthed it.

There was a long moment of silence while everyone’s reality rearranged itself. For all three of the women they were now in a room, everyday, with a man with a huge dick. Any lingering boyhood attached to Cary fell away and was gone. Only men got to have large cocks. For Cary, he was now a man with a known large penis in a fairly small room with three women. His penis loved the attention. It was achingly erect. Cary felt light-headed, powerful, incredible.

“You should —” Evelyn was trying hard to speak. “You should – geez.” She play mopped at her forehead. But it was sweaty. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “Do you– smell—”

“You should probably go to the doctor,” Jane concluded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cary said. He was still standing. He was going to need new pants. “I should.”

“So how big is it?” Clara said..

“Fully erect?” Cary said, looking her in the eyes. Evelyn mouthed that, too: fully erect. Clara couldn’t quite keep her gaze up. It shuffled between his eyes and between his legs.

“Cary, just give us a number so we can return to work,” Jane said. But she had stopped her endless typing, and pushed away from her monitor, to better watch the situation.

“Not quite twelve inches,” Cary said. “Just a little bit less than twelve inches.”

“Twelve inches,” Evelyn said. Her eyebrows went well up.

“Thanks and congrats, Cary,” Jane said. “Please see a doctor. Lets get the quarterly report done.”