How to Cope with a micro penis from a man’s perspective

Congratulations on clicking on this link. I am totally convinced that when you have finished reading it, you will feel a great deal better about your own sexuality than you probably ever have done. If you think Mother Nature was unkind to you or your partner at birth where it counts, then let me tell you about myself.

Right from the very beginning, my life has been totally dominated by the size of my genitals – or the lack of it to be more precise. When I was born, the Midwife first thought that I was a girl as I had no visible external genitals. However, not really looking like a girl either, she had to inspect me very closely indeed. So I was later told, the Midwife did find my penis but it was so small that it would only come out when my legs were straightened and even then, when it was pulled out, it was only about a quarter of an inch long.

As far as my testicles were concerned, I simply didn’t have any that showed. Whether I did actually have them but they were trapped inside me or if they started growing at a later age, I have absolutely no idea. What I do know is that I had no real sign of having a scrotum of any kind until I was in my teens.

My mother, bless her, took the difficult decision after consulting all sorts of Doctors to bring me up as a girl as she was sure that with no real visible male genitals, I would never be able to live my life as a boy. That was all well and good until I started school. Apparently, I attended my very first day at Primary School fully dressed as a little girl complete with long yellow ribbons carefully tied into my long wavy brunette hair. Of course, I have no real memory of that day but my older brother never stopped telling me just how cute he thought I looked in my yellow trimmed brown dinky school uniform. With long white socks and strap-over black shoes, I looked just like all the other little girls.

However, when it came to the ubiquitous documentation, the Social Services people were immediately called in and in effect, forced my mother to dress and bring me up as a boy. As I was so girl-like in so many ways and believed that I was a girl, my mother didn’t take kindly to the idea at all. Nevertheless, when the Social Workers said that they would get a Care Order and have me taken away to somewhere where I would be brought up as a boy, my mother had no option but to comply with them.

For me as a five year old, that was a particularly difficult transition.
Every week, a Social Worker visited our house to make sure that my mother was treating me like a boy. My bedroom had to be changed from being a
gorgeously pretty girls room to a dull boys room. All my pretty dresses, swishy petticoats, frivolous nighties and other girls things were taken away and disposed of.

Even when my mother explained to the Social Worker that due to the shortness of my penis I had to sit down to wee like a girl, it made no difference. I didn’t have to sit down to wee just because my tiny penis didn’t stick out enough but simply because my wee only came out in a very thin stream.

With a normal sized bladder, it hurt the inside of my diminutive penis a great deal if I “pushed” too hard as my “plumbing” simply wasn’t big enough to cope. Subsequently, going to the toilet was always a very long drawn out business and, if I didn’t sit down, very messy!

Being so young and not understanding why I was being forced to be a boy, it was all very traumatic for me. So much so that my general behaviour became very bad. I hated having to wear boys clothes as until then, I had only ever worn girls clothes. Going from having plenty of dolls and girls things to play with to having none at all was very hard for me to accept particularly as I had to give up my favourite doll. Likewise, having to have my long wavy hair cut short and not being allowed to even wear my pretty nighties to sleep in was beyond my young brain.

To stop me slipping back into my girlish ways, my parents were extremely strict with me. So much so that I went to great lengths to conceal the fact
that I loved dressing up as girl whenever I had the opportunity. Many strange things happened in the early years but by and large I survived.

My serious problems really began when I started at Secondary School. Going to an enormous Comprehensive School and meeting all sorts of people whom I had never met before left me wide open for teasing, bullying and ridicule. For a boy to have to go to Secondary School for a couple of years without any testicles, life was pretty well intolerable. For a boy who couldn’t stand up to wee, the situation was aggravated beyond description! On one particular occasion when a gang of older boys grabbed me, stripped me near naked and then hooked me up on a fence post for all to see, I later took a wicked revenge which put three of them in hospital!

It was somewhere around that time that by chance, I discovered that I had a small ‘lump’ under the skin behind my penis. After examining me, my mother duly took me to the Doctor who told us that it was in fact my testicle and not a cyst as my mother had first thought. Some six months or so later, my second testicle appeared. Whether they had slipped down or whether they had started growing from nothing, I have absolutely no idea. What I did know was that those two ‘lumps’ felt like two hugc rocks to me. To help ease the continual aching, my mother solved the problem by buying me a girl’s lightweight panti-girdle. When the Social Worker found out what my mother had done, my mother was successfully able to explain that there was simply
no other garment on the market available that gave adequate support to my “danglings”. For simple hygiene reasons, my mother had also bought me some girls knickers to wear under my panti-girdles. The Social Worker was far from happy about it but, under the circumstances, there was nothing that she could do about it. Although my mother never admitted it, I always had the sneaking suspicion that she actually enjoyed going out to buy me dainty little knickers and slinky panti-girdles – I certainly had plenty of them!

Having to do P.E. at school and then use the communal showers with all the other boys was a nightmare to me as I never knew what the other boys would do to me. Instead of the two male gym teachers protecting me in some way, they only made my plight even worse. The way they contemptuously behaved towards me was as though they didn’t think that I should have been included with the boys in the first place. Wearing a girls slinky panti-girdle and skimpy little knickers certainly didn’t help me!

What I did know was that although I really did have some testicles, they were so small and tightly hung that nobody believed that I had any at all!
In time, I learnt that if I actually let people go on believing that I didn’t have any testicles at all and that I was far from unhappy about it, they were more inclined to leave me alone. Likewise, at first I desperately HATED being called ‘Sissy’ but I eventually discovered that if I showed that being called such a name didn’t upset me at all, the teasing was much less severe.

No matter how many times I asked my mother why I couldn’t find my Adam’s Apple, she could never give me any satisfactory explanation. Nor could she explain why I had inherited her facial features so much nor why I had so much ‘puppy fat’ on my chest yet none anywhere else on my otherwise slender body. Outwardly, I hated repeatedly being called ‘girlie bum’ but inwardly,I rather liked the idea of knowing that my bottom was shaped more like a girls bottom than it was a boy’s.

Time and time again, teachers had to put me in with the girls to protect me from the boys who seemed to get a tremendous amount of pleasure out of making my life hell. I did try many times to join in with the boys in the boys playground but it never worked. I wasn’t allowed in the girls playground so break time meant that I was usually left with nowhere to go.
I wasn’t a ‘loner’ by nature by any means but I did find out what it was like to be so lonely whilst being surrounded by well over a thousand other school children.

When I was thirteen, I had to choose what subjects I wanted to study as part of my ‘Comprehensive Education’. Before I realised what was going on, I finished up being the only boy out of two classes of girls who had opted to take Commercial Studies. At the time, it was quite a new thing and so traditional subjects like typing, shorthand and telephone operating were combined with the new subjects. Needless to say, it was an immensely popular course for the girls but for boys? The school had never had a boy on that course before – I was the very first one.

Whether it was really my idea to do Commercial Studies or whether I was covertly “steered” into it by my mother is hard to say for certain. What did happen was that I found the studies all very interesting and extremely enjoyable. More so when it meant that I was more or less totally segregated from the boys. The things that happened to me during that period of my life now seem almost too bizarre to imagine. The more effort that my parents put in to bring me up as a boy, the more I craved to be left to live my life as a girl. Just wanting to dress the same as all the other kids in my class became very important to me as I felt so much like the “odd one out”. The fact that they all wore skirts, didn’t deter me one bit.

Wondering just what sort of grey pleated skirt I would wear to school if I had had the chance, kept my mind busy for hours and hours. I knew that boys weren’t supposed to crave to be allowed to wear a skirt for school but I certainly craved like crazy for one – so much so that it became impossible for me to keep it a secret.

Jn time, I fitted in with the girls so much and so well that the school inevitably had a very serious problem on their hands. What I didn’t know at the time was that me doing my P.E. with the girls and using all their facilities including toilets and playground only exasperated the situation even more so. No matter what the teachers did, protecting me from verbal as well as physical assaults by the boys proved virtually impossible. In an attempt to solve the problem, I was sent to a girls only private school on the outskirts of town for two days to see if I would like to go there permanently. I obviously couldn’t go there as a girl but nor did I have to go as a stereo-typed boy. It was proposed that I would wear exactly the same
uniform as the girls except that instead of a regulation pleated skirt, I would wear short trousers made of the same burgundy coloured material.
Wearing short trousers was no problem to me as it was something my mother had always insisted on by arguing that long trousers were only for “mature” boys. The idea of wearing long white socks and tan coloured sandal-type shoes quite appealed to me – in its own odd sort of way!

Before I had a chance to make my mind up if I wanted to go to that school permanently, I found myself being sent off to a boys only boarding school – all arranged by the Social Services. It was sheer HELL! In fact, I lasted just ten days before I had to be rescued from an ordeal worse than death. Memories of that terrifying experience haunted me for the rest of my life. When it was realised that that idea couldn’t possibly work for me, I was sent back to my old school. Unfortunately, my old school wouldn’t have me back as they simply could not guarantee my physical and sexual protection. At not quite fifteen, I had no option but to leave school altogether. Had I have stayed on at school to finish my
education, I was expected to gain a good number of G.C.E.s but as it was, I left without any qualifications whatsoever.

Within two weeks of me starting work in a large office of a giant international manufacturing company, my “men problems” started with a vengeance. I had by then learned that to certain kinds of men, I was a very attractive boy indeed. What I didn’t know was how far such men would go to have their way with me. I thought that once I left school, my life would improve. Unfortunately for me, I just hadn’t started to show even the slightest indication that I was maturing and as such, it left me wide open for all sorts of things. My voice hadn’t broken, my skin was smooth and soft and although I really tried hard not to act or behave in a girlish manner, there were times when the true me slipped out. Time and time again I wished that I had normal sized genitals so that I could fit in better yet somehow, I was never really unhappy about being so nonmasculine.

For someone so young, knowing so little about sex and for certainly NOTHING about homosexuality, I was extremely vulnerable indeed. Subsequently, it didn’t take much for the man whom I worked with to get me to agree to let him do things to me which I knew that my parents certainly wouldn’t have approved of! When my parents did find out that I was having a “relationship” with the man, they were content for him to be sacked too close the matter rather than report it to the Police. To my way of thinking at the time, by NOT calling in the Police it was like my parents were not totally convinced that I was quite as innocent as I appeared. It was even vaguely implied that for me to have intimate affairs with men was only to be expected in view of my lack of masculine endowements. In an incredibly short amount of time, I had to learn all about the strange ways of men. I learnt fast but in the end, I had no option but to give up my job as the pressure on me to let men have their way with me became intolerable.

Job after job I got and then lost it in one way or another -all due to my unusual sexuality. I was trapped. I couldn’t get a job as a girl and nor could I get one as a boy. For a teenaged boy not to be able to masturbate, it was very hard to keep the fact a secret. Why it appeared to fascinate other people so much never failed to baffle me. Being the way I was, I never had any male friends yet I was never short of female friends. It seemed to me that boys didn’t like associating with me because if they did, they believed that either their penises would somehow magically shrink to the size that mine was or they would be taken as being “bum boys”.

By the time I was eighteen, my penis was still no more than about a half an inch long when flaccid and proportionately thin. Try and try as I did, I could never give myself an erection although it occasionally did happen involuntarily on the most absurd occasions. My life became so intolerable that one day, I was so chronically depressed that I simply drove my car off of the road at full speed in the hope of killing myself. It was a crazy thing to do but, walking away from the totally wrecked car without so much as a scratch on me, it did teach me that I had to get away from home and my home town if I was going to have any sort of life. For an eighteen year old boy who didn’t shave nor have a single pubic hair, joining the Army wouldn’t
appear to have been a wise thing to do by any means. Nevertheless, I told myself that if I couldn’t “make myself a man”, then I would let the Army do it for me.

Passing all the intake tests was easy. Passing the medical examination was far from easy despite the fact that I was perfectly fit and healthy in every way. Being subjected to a mass medical examination was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. To add to my dilemma, it took a second Doctor to examine my genitals as the first one didn’t think that I should be allowed to enlist as it would be impossible for me to survive in such a highly institutionalised military environment. It took all my verbal skills to convince them both that I really did want to enlist even though I knew that I was going to have more than my fair share of problems.

My Basic Training at Catterick Camp in North Yorkshire was terrible – not the military side of things so much but the way the other soldiers teased, bullied and tormented me. Large barrack rooms, communal toilets, communal showers and gymnasium changing rooms made it impossible for me to keep my private parts private! With a penis that was only about one inch long at full stretch and soft testicles that were still not as big as cherries, I was the butt of endless jokes and ridicule. I certainly didn’t ask to be nick named “Nancy” but it happened anyway. In fact, it got so bad that I was sent to the Women’s Army barracks to see if I would make a better woman soldier than I ever could a man soldier! I was told that finding young women
soldiers who could type, take shorthand, work telephone exchanges AND drive cars and lorries without any training whatsoever was far from easy. As I was already trained and experienced in such skills, I could be put to work as a woman soldier any where in the World without any training at all.

Turning up at the Military Hospital for my appointment fully dressed as a woman soldier, I had no idea what was going on at first. After undressing and being fully examined by a Specialist, I was told that I could have my testicles and scrotum amputated and my penis. shortened so that it wouldn’t show at all on the outside. When my unusually large breasts were examined, I was told that they could be made larger for me with implants and hormone treatment. When I asked if I would then be able to have sex as a girl, I was told that such sex change operations weren’t possible as far as the Army was concerned. In other words, the Army was prepared to make me LOOK like a woman soldier but not have sex like one!

Deciding to soldier on in the men’s Army, I was told that I could have an operation to have the excessive amount of flesh removed from my breasts and hormone treatment to make me more manly but I declined as I had no wish to be artificially altered in any way at all. To my way of thinking, such ‘treatment’ was somehow cheating in some way and cheating was something that I never ever wanted to do.

Some celebrities are alleged to have really small willies too

From a purely military point of view, I achieved everything that the Army ever asked of me plus an awful lot more that only a person like me could have done. From start to finish, I always had the feeling that I had to “prove” that I was every bit as good a soldier as anyone else irrespective of the smallness of my penis.

As a result of badly breaking my arm on the assault course whilst stupidly trying to prove that I was as tough as the next guy, I was sent to a small camp in the Midlands to work as a telephone operator until my arm had fully healed. It was whilst I was stationed there that I met a really nice girl at a local Dance. She was quite attractive and had a very nice figure
for her age. Meeting her and “chatting her up” was easy enough but I knew that for the relationship to develop, I would eventually have no option but to tell her that my penis was just too small for sexual intercourse. She was the first girl whom I had met since joining up and so I spent many lonely hours trying to work out how to tell her about my sexual oddity.

When I did finally pluck up the courage to tell her that my genitals were no bigger than a small baby’s, she was wonderful
about it. With more than a good amount of compassion, she decided that we should at least try to have sex. Despite being chronically shy about it all,
I thought that it was worth a try as I had never attempted to have sex with a girl before. When she finally saw my naked groin, she just couldn’t
believe that a person of my age and size could be so incredibly under developed. Despite hundreds and hundreds of attempts at having sex over many
months, I just couldn’t get my tiny little penis into her vagina no matter WHAT we did – it just wasn’t strong enough to get into her slit.
Undeterred, she persisted in trying to get me to function like a male. Much to my delight, she was able to give me my very first ejaculation.

To her, successfully masturbating me for the very first time was, apparently, a truly magical moment for her as she saw my very first drop of semen even before I did myself – an experience that very very few girls ever have. Watching her using her finger to scoop up my watery semen into her mouth and then swallow it as though it was the most delicious thing that she had ever tasted, totally confused me. We spent hours playing about but all that we could ever achieve was mutually masturbating one another. For me even then, success was far from guaranteed as although I did by then have some semen in my testicles, I only had a very small amount and it didn’t come out with much pressure – more of a dribble than a squirt.
With the help of her very attractive best friend and older sister, we certainly got up to some very strange games indeed!

She wanted us to get married but I knew that as I couldn’t possibly consummate the marriage, in the end, it would only lead to heartbreak and frustration for her. I thought the world of her but knew that I had to break it off. I never regretted breaking it off as it really was for the best for all concerned but the rotten way I did it was really quite unforgivable under the circumstances.

My travels in the Army took me to many far away places. In Singapore, I found a way of life that few people could even imagine existed. I had never seen a transvestite prostitute before. By the time I left Singapore, there wasn’t anything that I didn’t know about such strange creatures! With the highly unusual body that I had, I discovered that in certain Oriental circles I could have made me a fortune. As tempted as I was to quit the Army and follow the “fun”, I decided that as I had joined the Army to be a man, I would, in the long run, be better off by sticking with it. Turning my back on a fortune and the chance to travel all around the Pacific Basin first class all the way wasn’t easy but nevertheless, I managed it -just!

Many soldiers went on active service to Borneo to fight the so called “Confrontation” but NONE, other than myself, went to war whilst wearing a skirt, brassier and make-up! The experiment in a tiny border village came very close to actually working but unfortunately, a local man was so convinced that I was a young woman, he became obsessed with wanting sex with me – or at least, that is what we all thought he had in his mind when he came after me! In itself, it wasn’t much of a problem but once the shooting started, everything got out of hand. During the highly rapid withdrawal, two young soldiers were killed and several injured. Although I was repeatedly told that it wasn’t my fault, I could never get it out of my head that had I have NOT been such an attractive looking young woman and had a normal sized penis, those two men would not have lost their lives.

Few white men have ever tamed the “Alabama Black Snake” but in a honky tonk town outside the giant American naval base of Subic Bay in the Phillipines, my tiny penis saved a female officer from being brutally gang raped. From what started out as a truly frightening and life-threatening adventure, it turned out to be a whole lot of fun – for me any way!

In Bangkok, my life took a very different turn and things happened there that changed my life forever. It was by a very strange route and unconventional manner that I finally lost my virginity – or to be more correct, had it taken from me without me actually knowing it at the time!
When I had joined the Army, I had absolutely know idea what a “male lesbian” was. By the time I left the Far East, I knew very well indeed.

Caught up on the sidelines of the South East Asia wars, I grew up at an incredible rate. So much so that I probably saw first-hand more of the “real world” out there than any other British soldier ever stationed there.
Until then, my time in the Far East was mainly the pursuit of my own personal pleasure and gratification. By the time I left (under a very dark cloud indeed), my life had taken on an intense seriousness that I once would never have believed possible. I had certainly learnt that if I thought that Mother Nature had been unkind to me at birth, there were an awful lot of souls in this World who were a lot worse off than I was. From making that discovery, it gave me the determination and confidence to live the rest of my life as happily as I possibly could.

When I was about twenty-six or twenty-seven, my body went through a very substantial fundamental change. From once having a full head of thick hair yet no body hair at all, my hair started falling out of my head and my body sprouted hairs in all manner of places. Despite hair sprouting out all over my body, the hair under my armpits and pubic hair strangely enough never developed into much.

Whilst doing a ‘stint’ in strife-ravaged Northern Ireland, I became aware that my testicles had swollen up but wouldn’t go back down. They ached and ached but they just wouldn’t go back to their former size – it was like having to learn how to walk all over again. I became noticeably taller, bigger and lost most of my feminine characteristics. As for my penis, that too had grown a bit but at no more than not quite two and a half inches long when fully erect, I had to accept that I could never really meet a woman’s sexual needs in a conventional manner – I just didn’t have it in me. However, as a “male lesbian” my life has been full and, given my time again, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Now, doesn’t that make YOU feel better?

— Peter Evens

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