Description An account of what it’s really like to have a dick that keeps growing and growing and growing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always more than you expect.
|Updated||02 Sep 2016|
I know that most of you don’t want to know anything about my early years, because I was so young and this topic is kind of dangerous with young people, but this story is about me and I promise you that I’m okay with it. I learned to live with it. I am who I am and I finally want to tell you my mind-fucking story.
As hormones kicked in, I started to attract more and more attention. Questions raised at sleepovers were always hilarious and made me proud of who I am and what I’ve got. Questions like: “Are you doing anything with it?”, “Was it always this big?”, “Can you…you know…show it to me?”. In my nearly 50 years of life I’ve heard them all.
I soon discovered, like any young boy that age, that my penis wasn’t just another limp, useless part of my body. Before the internet raised us we had to learn a lot of things by ourselves.
Before I was going through puberty, it grew approximately a quarter inch each year. Sometimes more and sometimes less. Some years were just crazy, and I asked myself many times if I was still normal, because nobody in my class had such a big penis. But I always told myself that Benji, from class, was 5’7” and the biggest, and he was cool with it. So I simply was the kid with the big cock. Nothing to worry about.
The other hallmarks of puberty came really late for me—hair, height and so on. I watched the others growing up and wished that my body would wake up from its winter sleep. Except for that one region that wasn’t sleeping. There was one moment—I was thirteen or fourteen, I think—when I wasn’t the one with the biggest dick in class. Benjamin passed me by…but only for a few weeks. Then, finally, puberty was there for me. My body changed at lightning speed. I got bigger, hair sprouted under my arms and elsewhere, and life drove into my nuts. They got bigger—nothing compared to how they look now, but I don’t want to spoil anything.
I didn’t feel like my dick was growing bigger—it felt more like its own gravity was pulling it down. And it didn’t stop growing like the other guys’ at school; it just got more and more insane. I measured it every month because I was obsessed with it, because the others were obsessed with it. Every time I measured it, it was bigger. Every fucking time. In my first year of puberty—I was fourteen, I guess—it grew nearly half an inch. The year after that, even more than half an inch. Everybody was asking me about it.
“Wow! How big is that thing?”
“Seven and a half.”
I grinned and walked away saying: “Even bigger!”
That was the year I started playing sports. Nothing too serious—I just wanted to give my body something back. I wanted to look a bit wider and bigger over all, so I wasn’t just a growing horse dick attached to a lanky frame.
The third year of puberty was the wildest. My hormones went into overdrive and I could measure the results with my ruler. From age 16 to 17 it grew an inch from 7 ½” to 8 ½”—soft(Maybe I should say again that every number here is soft. Some things should stay secret, but let me tell you: I’m a hell of a grower.)
Benjamin, who was way taller than any other guy in our class, told me: “Don’t be ashamed of that dick.” And everybody nodded. So I wasn’t ashamed of it. It was that simple.
In my last year of school it grew another half inch, and I learned that casual underwear wasn’t made for men with nine-inch dicks. When I had a hard-on, pants were pretty tight. “Could you please stand up and present your project in front of the class?” a teacher asked me once, not realizing I was hiding the boner of the year under my desk. I asked if I could be next after that because of…reasons. End of the story: Everybody saw the visible line of my horse dick that day. Except for the teacher. And the moral of that story? Always wear the right kind of underwear. And today, over 25 years later?…don’t ask. Underwear is still its own kind of hell.
After that I went to college and the growth didn’t stop. In the first few semesters I slept with a lot of women, and the moment I unveiled the beast was always a moment to savor.
“Are you the hunk with the big dick?” someone asked me at a party over a beer.
“Wanna find out?”
Sooner or later, pickup lines like this always worked. This was a huge boost for my ego, and in some ways it shaped the person I am today—in a good way, I hope. Anyway, the bat between my legs was a lady magnet, and after a drunken night with a long-time friend, I realized that women weren’t the only ones grinding my gears. I also had a thing for big boys, because of my fascination with size, I guess.
Some men would probably agree with me when I say that your dick grows thicker when you get older. Automatically. Anyway, if that isn’t true, no one told my dick. None of my long-term relationships were thrilled about it, but I was curious where that road would end. I had no idea what was in store.
I studied in Germany for two semesters. I was twenty years old and my dick was over 9 ½ inches long. And, maaaan, dicks are big over there! Had some wild nights here and there. But most importantly, I had an open relationship over that year. A blond girl named Anika and her boyfriend Marcel. We always had a strange bond, right from the beginning, and there were many moments when I felt closer to them than I did to anyone else. They had a party and I crashed on their bed one night. After the party we three lay there for hours, talking and drinking. Suddenly, I felt Anika’s lips on mine, and my first reaction was to see what Marcel was doing. He was smiling peacefully, and Anika turned my head back to hers. We kissed passionately, and even though I had never thought of her that way before, I wanted more right at that moment. Marcel’s hands encompassed my upper body and a hot shiver ran through my spine. It got even stronger when Anika put her hand on my crotch. She grabbed the whole of my half-hard dick through the pants and smiled over my shoulder into her boyfriend’s eyes and said: “Marcel, you two have even more in common than you think!” She said it in German (“Marcel, ihr beide habt noch mehr gemeinsam, als du denkst!”), but mine was already good enough to understand her. I felt Marcel’s hand on my dick. He was kneading it steadily, and I turned to him to kiss him. I searched for his dick and found it at the side of his hip bone. He was packing a real monster cock and this was my first time seeing it.
Over the summer I saw a lot of it, and we had our fun. I miss them.
A few porn studios seemed interested in an interview: “You can come here, show us what you truly got, and maybe we can come to an agreement with you and your show pony,” was the standard line. But I was more than a little unsure. So I waited for a sign, and I got one. And hell, it was a clear sign:
Of course I was happy with my gigantic dick, ever since it had broken the eight-inch mark. But sometimes, like anyone else, I wondered how it would feel to have an even bigger one. I think even a guy with a four-foot-long dick would wish the same thing at least once in his life. So I dreamed about it, and realized that I would be a dream come true for many viewers. And I got even more excited about this fantasy when my dick began to grow even faster than it had during puberty. It was insanely hot to see it grow one and a third inches in the year after I turned 21. I was 22 and my dick was nearly 11.5 inches long. There was no need to wait for a sign to join the porn industry. The sign had always been there, and it was still growing strong.
The first two interviews were four months apart, and I could write them two different penis sizes, which was just ludicrous. The conversations were way weirder than normal job interviews, but hell, it was porn. I wore extra-tight clothes to the interviews, so they could see from the beginning what they were bargaining for. And they were all really enthusiastic. They asked me if I could whip it out, and I did. I flopped my dick onto the desk, and seconds later I got the job. The problem wasn’t me finding a job in the industry; it was them finding someone able to take my growing dick. Of course, I hadn’t told anyone that my dick was still growing. It was just too hard to believe, and they’d find out anyway someday, I thought.
I became a porn star overnight. You’ve probably seen some videos of me if you’re reading this article right now. My first movie phase lasted till I was 25. I started porn with 11 ½” and left with 12 ¼”.
I left for an underwear model job. It sounded like a perfect match for me, but when I walked back into the studio, naked, my dick slapping against my thighs, everyone was speechless. The underwear was created especially for very BIG men, but even the imagination of the designer didn’t meet my reality. We tried stuffing my enormous package into the biggest pouch available, but it still was incredibly uncomfortable; my dick was nearly exploding out of it. We made some photos with their biggest brief and it became their best seller. Don’t ask me why.
New year, new size: 12 ½ inches. People in my local gym started to recognize me from the web or the online store or elsewhere. I met some very nice people, both men and women, but I couldn’t stick with anyone for more than a few months. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for a standard relationship. I thought back to Anika and Marcel.
Sometimes I woke up late at night with my dick lying hard against my stomach, stretching up to my chest. It was uncomfortably hard, pulsing and leaking precum, so that I really had no choice. After turning from side to side in my overheated bed, I bent my head down, opened my mouth and sucked my own dick. Yeah, you read that right. Casual hand jobs are nice, but blowing your own dick is in another league. I can’t remember the moment I realized that I could do it, but ever since I’ve been having way more fun in bed with myself. And there were many partners who loved watching me doing it. There’s something very sensual about the act. Sometimes I did it in front of my webcam. I got paid for jacking my horse cock! My life was a dream.
But after a few months of that, I wanted a job, and I found one in a PR agency. I was 27, and the growth seemed to be subsiding a bit. But don’t get me wrong: I was still 50% worried that it would never stop growing and 50% full of hope that it would never stop growing. Stupid, I know. Back then, at 27, it was 13 and a third inches, and one year later 13 and three quarters. After that, it slowed down.
I don’t want to sugarcoat things. Having a 13-inch dick has its dark side. People reduce you to your monster dick. There are far more worse things you can be reduced to, but still. Buying clothes can be a pain in the ass. Speaking of which: for most sex partners my mammoth cock is a literal pain in the ass. You need an hour of preparation for just a few minutes of sex, and I hadn’t gone balls deep into someone in years. I miss that feeling. Taking a leak while sitting is no longer possible, unless I hold my dick like a fire hose. Lots of disgusting stories. There’s no such thing as a casual boner for me any longer. If I feel one building up in me, I have to leave and find someplace more private. I’ve tried thinking about non-erotic things, but my mind is always traveling back to my colossal dick and how it’s growing inside my way-too-tight pants, getting bigger and bigger—well, you see where this is going. After that, I have to wait till it’s over or help myself. Public areas where people are wearing less clothing can be a problem too. This wasn’t a problem in my year in Germany, but here it is. I would love to wear skintight Speedos and go for a swim, but there are too many people who would have a problem with that. The list is endless—but hey! On the flip side, I have a gigantic dick. So that’s a pro.
Laura joined my workplace when I was 35, I think. I had done some good work in the prior few years. So had my dick. I should stop making these dick jokes. Anyway, like I said, my growth had subsided and I had a 13-and-three-quarter-inch dick. It slowed down, but it didn’t stop. Since I’d started my new job, it had grown another inch. Maybe a bit more than that. And Laura seemed to be aware of it from the beginning. We started dating, and her eyes bulged when she opened my pants for the first time. My monster cock fell out and she jumped back. It was way more than she had dreamed of. Way more than she could handle, apparently.
I said: “It’s okay. There are other ways. We can take it slow.”
But she wanted it all. And I mean all. But she isn’t to blame. I got carried away too. End of the story: I hurt her really bad. At least, that’s what she told everyone: not that my big dick was too much for her, but that I hurt her. Everyone thought I’d hit her or something. Work wasn’t the same after that. She discredited me in the eyes of the entire company.
I talked to the boss, and fortunately he wasn’t entirely on her side. We had known each other for many years and he knew about my huge third leg. It wasn’t something I could hide for long, apparently, and he liked it to make jokes about it.
“So, did you hit her with it or something?”
“No. We were just messing around when she started shouting. She left immediately and never answered my calls or texts. And now she’s starting all this shit!”
“Okay, everything’s all right. Calm down.”
“I’m not fired, am I?”
“Of course not. I’ll talk to her.”
I was allowed to stay after that, but after a few more months, I found I no longer wanted to. The air was poisoned and once-friendly colleagues were whispering about me behind my back. I was 36 and left with a smile.
I thought about another pause for my professional career. I had saved some money over the years and my porno career still earning me residuals every month. But then I made I wrong move: I tried to satisfy my curiosity. I went to a doctor looking for answers. I met many over the next few months. They passed me from one to the next, hand to hand, a medical anomaly. I should have searched for an ancient tribe somewhere in the rainforest, one that prayed to a masculine god with an unbelievably huge penis. I would be their new god and everything would be fine. But the doctors found another way for me. The reaction when I dropped my pants and showed them my 36-year-old dick was always the same. They were blown away, but at the same time they tried to cover it with cold professionalism. Some of them wanted to make a television show about me, but I wasn’t interested in being used and spat out afterwards. The “FAKEEEE!” comments under my porn videos were enough.
The last and most important doctor I visited discovered an unknown hormonal imbalance in my body. He searched for a tumor, a defect in my thyroid or my brain, but there was none. Everything seemed fine except for my hormonal levels, and there was no explanation for that. My colossal dick was fine. My lemon-sized balls, meanwhile, were even more than fine. He told me about a therapy option I had. A serum that would control my hormone production over several months and correct it. My dick would stop its growing process after a short time period.
I sat half-naked on my sofa that evening and considered it, playing with my dick while I thought it over.
Dear reader, I made the wrong choice (well wrong-ish, I guess): I decided to do it. My growth was probably over when I visited the doctors. But hey, now I learned a new word. Retrogression. It’s a word doctors use when a condition deteriorates after a period of improvement. At first I thought everything was fine. I visited the doctor for a year and got four injections over that time. He was oh-so-optimistic about everything. And he was right: in the year before I turned 37, nothing happened. My dick stayed 14 ½ inches long. The long-term injections went well, and they were doing their job in my body. I had even stopped measuring it after so many months of no change. I moved on. Had friends, had sex, got a new job.
“Do you want to continue the injections?”
“Hell, no! The injections are the fucking problem. How long is this shit going to stay in my body?”
I was hoping for a “not long, don’t worry,” but he said: “Years, probably. After such a long treatment, the answer is years. I’m so sorry.”
He also told me that he thought that my dick wouldn’t grow much bigger. That it was only an accident. Well, guess who was wrong.
Long story short: I quit my job because I wanted to go back to pornography. The growth spurt had just started, at least that was what I thought. It always felt really massive and heavy these days, as if someone had hung a twenty-pound weight on my junk. It became thicker than my wrist, and even my balls grew, for the first time in twenty years. Now they were the size of oranges. They filled two hands easily. Running was way harder now; I felt like I could barely walk because of my ever-growing junk. It was so massive and potent and horny. I had to blow a load three times a day. At least.
Hiding the monster became harder with every month that passed. One year after the last doctor’s appointment, it was 17 inches long. I’d like to repeat that: 17 inches. My porn videos had more “fakeeee!” comments than views. But I was happy that my balls didn’t get any bigger.
After a video shoot one day, it was still engorged and slightly red when a man approached me from the side of the set. We talked about my impossibly huge pole, and he talked me into a research project. I made a ton of money from it. If they could find a way to use my condition to make pills or anything similar to grow a man’s cock and balls, they would sell like Coke bottles on a hot summer day. The way the world would be changed by such a medication was only a silent background noise for them. But I ignored it too.
It turned out that there was huge potential for my dick in Japanese porn industry. When my agent talked to me about it, I laughed out loud because I thought he was joking. But he was right, and we made many, many movies there. We had all the accessories you could imagine: half-transparent sliding doors, traditional garments, bathhouses, blushing little girls. I had never worked with so many professional people. They were all so kind and I didn’t felt like a freak like I had in the States. Even though my dick was now way bigger than any fantasy. For these movies, I started to hit the weights and I added nearly 50 pounds of muscle in two years. I thought about taking steroids, since I don’t have to worry about shrinking balls, but sadly they came with other risks too, so instead I trained hard for two years and ate right. In these two years my dick jumped from 19 ½ to 23 inches. People online recognized that my dick was still growing freakishly, and they built a timeline out of every video and every photo ever made of me.
I self-produced some videos to prove my size. Even after that there were “fakeeee!” comments. One was filmed live, HD, well-lit, shot by a team of five people. But people still thought it was fake as fuck. “Prostheses!” one commenter said. Fuckhead.
Five years after the hormones, my dick was 23 2/3 inches long. That year, I had a photo shoot that went viral around the world. The public had ignored my existence for all of my life, and I’d been fine with that because I’d never wanted to be pulled into the spotlight. But meanwhile my dick was so big that people couldn’t not talk about it. I really wonder how that works for journalists. One sees my porn videos, goes to his boss and is like: “Hey I saw this video of a guy with a dick bigger than a horse’s cock. Can I write an article about it?” – “Of course! That’s what the people want to read! Go for it!”
I should have asked one of the reporters lingering in front of the set. Anyway, the photo that made me famous is the one with me and the knot in my dick. Yes 23 2/3 inches is knottable. How did I find that out? I was bored between two movies.
Years have gone by, and I still feel like I’m 28. People guess that I’m not a day older than 30. Maybe my dick isn’t the only positive thing here. Its growth subsided when I turned 45 years old. Since then it’s been 25 inches long and it’s only growing 1/10 of an inch per year.
So … the end of the story? Well I was weak … and I missed the strange sensation of … everything that happened over the last few years. I met the doctor again… and … and … fuck … never thought we would end up here. Anyway, thats the story. This is not a goodbye. This is a see you soon.
For charts that go along with the growth described in this story, click here.