Cloth Diapers & Panties

The thing I hate about being in charge of dinner, is deciding what to make every day for the rest of my life! My back problems limit what I can do so there's a lot of repetition. Plus I am limited by finances and space (only have a working mini-fridge and small chest freezer, no full-size fridge.) Any tips?

Ahead a bright filtered light beckoned her. It was another vent. The shaft had led in only one direction. She forced the grate forward and listened as it clattered to the hard floor. This room was similar in size illuminated by two bright lights. An open shower stall and a chair were the only new features. Familiar pipes intersected the walls. Her choice was clear, and Scully dropped down. Her bare feet slapped against the concrete pavement. This room was not tiled. Immediately she tore off her jacket and shirt. It was obvious now. She wreaked of bleach and other odors. The chemically treated water seeped into her skin. Her clothes were contaminated. She hated the idea but knew she had to strip. She rotated the shower handle and hoped the water was pure. She unzipped her pants and kicked them off. She was careful not to pick up any chemicals from her clothing and used only her two index fingers. She twisted them into the waistband of her panties and slowly slid them over her pale round globes and past her thighs. She stepped away from them and delicately removed her bra. The cascade of warmth soothed the irritation from the chemicals. The burning dissipated but the itching remained. At the bottom of the stall Scully noticed a white bar of soap. She picked it up and examined it closely. The words "Clean" were etched into it. She sniffed the bar and trusted it was true. It lathered generously. Scully massaged the soap across her breasts. She lifted them and they bounced back into place. She slid her hands down across her flat stomach. The slick moisturizing soap pleased her. She moved to her privates and gently scrubbed. Scully brought the soap up and rinsed away the suds. She stared at it. The soap was encrusted with curly hair. Small tufts and stray strands were embedded into the bar of soap. Scully rocked her hips forward into the stream. She tilted her head down and confirmed her fear. She was bare, completely bare! Scully's slick privates glistened up at her. She released the soap and explored her lower region. She caressed her bottom cheeks. They felt rubbery and odd. She had shaved in the past, but this was different. The chemicals had even managed to remove the small wisps of hair along the inside of her ass. Scully finally felt clean. The irritation had stopped. However, she had no clothes, and the room was empty. Gingerly she separated her jacket from the heap of clothing on the floor. The fumes of the bleach penetrated her nostrils and she coughed. As she approached the shower the flow of water ceased. Disgusted she dropped her jacket into the stall. It angered her that he was watching. Agent Scully was nude. She shook her arms then hugged her shiny wet body. She needed to think. She weighed hypothermia against the contaminates of her clothes. She vigorously rubbed her arms and legs to increase her circulation and grimaced at her smooth pussy. Another notion bombarded her under the bright lights. Her skin appeared pink. Normally her natural tones enhanced her look but now she appeared unusually pale. She stared at her hairless vagina. It seemed smaller and she noticed that somehow her labia had retracted. It was just a smooth slit. Scully concentrated and scanned the concrete blocks for weakness. Stillness only hastened hypothermia so she busied herself with movement. She examined the shower stall, the chair, the vent, and the door. Nothing provided a clue. Music interrupted her search and flowed into the room. It was classical in nature, but the bass line underneath made her uneasy. She imagined she heard words in the music and strained to pinpoint the source. In the corner there was a small hidden speaker, faux painted to blend with the cement blocks. It was recessed and almost undetectable. She discovered three more hidden speakers and a small iron gate in the corner. The music increased. Suddenly the room plunged into darkness. This lasted only a moment as a luminescent glow emanated from the walls. Assisted by ultraviolet lights three dimensional words such as "baby", "mask", "relax", "choice", "salvation", and "rebirth" covered the cement. The word "Liar" was scrawled repeatedly. There were other words too, but she could not decipher the foreign text. Scully whirled as she read the clues. The odd shaped words floated out from the walls, blurred then snapped back into place. Huddled on a tiny section of carpet in the corner she focused her mind. She stretched her neck and spied a soft glow from under the chair. The bent her head underneath and read the words "honest clothes". She tried to move the chair, but it was bolted to the floor. She climbed onto the seat and pondered the game. Her captor was manipulating her auditory and visual senses but there were clues. Only from her seated position did she observe the chair's message. Vantage points and vision were valuable in this twisted fun house. His goal was to save the women he had abducted but he had broken them first. Kelly Frank's suicide pressed on Scully's resolve. She was going to hold on. She would not be broken. Scully shivered again as she turned carefully on the chair. At eye level and just within reach she spotted a red glowing package secreted in the duct. Scully crouched over the brown paper package with the vent triumphantly mangled next to her. The sharp corners of metal served perfectly to cut the heavy string of the package. In the darkness the package bathed her naked body in an eerie red light. Despite the icy floor Scully did not move. She peeled back the paper and it blossomed to a disturbing image. Scully shifted backward on her feet. The clothing snickered at her. It was a white dress more appropriate for a six-year-old going to a party twenty years ago. It was adorned with frills and pink bows and a long sash that tied in the back. Underneath the dress were shoes and socks. Without hesitation Scully slipped on the short ankle socks and black shoes. The temperature in the room had dropped dramatically and Scully needed protection. She heaved a heavy sigh and began to dress. The dress was a snug fit and was tight across her chest. The sleeves were short and puffy. The length was the worst part as it barely covered her bottom. Any movement sent a breeze up between her legs. She dug in the paper and came up empty. There were no bloomers or panties. Even in the dark she knew she looked ridiculous. Time disappeared in the darkness. Hours ticked away. Huddled again in the corner Scully's mind wandered past hazy images of her father, school, and her beginnings at the academy. She shook them from her mind. Why was she thinking of school and her father? She chronologically documented and analyzed her actions. Had she been drugged? Was she being drugged now? Was the water and the soap she used pure? Rattled Scully stood and a crisp metallic sound echoed through the room. It had fallen out of the tiny pocket on the front of her new dress. It was a key, and it could only fit one door. The small iron gate creaked, and Scully crawled into the tube of concrete. Her progress was arduous, and the rough stone chewed at her knees. After several yards, frustrated, Scully tore a strip from her sash and tied her hair back. At least now she could see where she was going. The tunnel turned left, then right then ran straight then turned again. It resembled a maze, and the irony of her profession was not lost on her. "I'm a lab rat." she thought. Fifteen minutes had elapsed, and the tunnel seemed endless. Light was minimal with only a sporadic bulb to mark the path. Scully paused by one. She looked down and discovered an odd message crudely etched into the block of cement. It simply read "Don't listen!". Familiar rusted pipes ran near the top of the tube, but they were joined by a newer conduit. It was encased in heavy plastic and she ascertained they carried the audio-visual cables to a central control room. She continued her journey. Periodically she stopped to visually confirm the new conduit's presence. In a long black stretch of the tunnel, she counted the pipes and came up short. Scully moved forward to a lighted section and confirmed it absence. She crawled back and found the missing conduit where it penetrated the wall. Near the location a fan slowly circulated the dank air. She ran her hands around the metal and measured the opening. If she could stop the fan, she could enter the shaft. "Dana?" the modulated voice reverberated through the tunnel. "You can't stay in there forever. Just a little further. I am here to help. I just want to see your pretty new dress." Scully remained silent. Spurned by her new discovery she worked her fingers against the cement behind the frame of the fan's housing. "Dana. Don't be a naughty girl. Naughty girls get punished." A hissing sound arrived a moment before a noxious odor attacked her eyes, nose, and throat. Scully coughed and sputtered. She awkwardly yanked up her dress to her face, but the smoke surrounded her. It was beginning to burn. Scully scrambled through the remaining section of tunnel and rolled out onto a soft surface. On all fours she wheezed and wiped away her tears. Slowly her senses returned and through her misty vision she saw the tunnel had deposited her into a new nightmare. It had dropped her directly into a large metal crib. The crib was flush to the wall and metal bars surrounded her. The only exit was the tunnel. Another hissing sound alerted her, and she watched her options diminish as the railing slid back into place. She would be cut off from the tunnel and completely imprisoned in the crib. Unthinking she painfully blocked her hand between the railing and post of the crib. It stopped and Scully worked her shoe into the gap as she massaged her sore hand. The railing above prevented her from rising so she crawled around to assess her surroundings. She was in a nursery, painted blue and pink with cutouts of rabbits. On the far wall was a table with a stack of white cloth that sent a chill down her spine. Scully began to cry. In reality she was pretending. She curled into a fetal position and covered her face. If her abductor's motivation were to break her then she would deliver and hopefully gain an advantage. Her performance continued as she pretended to sleep. The lights dimmed as a sickly-sweet lullaby played from the hidden speakers. Again, the bass beat bothered her. Satisfied she stirred and quietly made her way back into the tunnel. The fumes had gone but the smell had lingered. She found the fan and removed her shoe. In one swift movement she jammed it into the spinning blades. She squeezed through the tight passage as the motor whined aggressively. She freed her shoe, and the blades regained their momentum. Scully rocked her shoulders and wormed through the shaft. At the end, a light appeared through another vent. Silently she wriggled up and peered. A wonderful sight greeted her. She had found the control room. A laptop, electronic technical manuals, medical books, and stacks of files were strewn across a wooden desk. On one side of the room a door beckoned. Her captor was absent. She had to act fast. Apprehensively she kicked out the vent and dropped into the control room. Investigative instincts took over and squelched her survival impulse. She dove toward the files and ripped them open. They were filled with gruesome photos. Surgical procedures on unsuspecting women. She needed names. Scully tore into a new pile. The photos of Camille Douglas, Kelly Franks and Beatrice Dorner cried to her. She tucked the files under her arm along with a few more and turned to the laptop. The webcam was focused on the nursery and in the dark it was obvious she was gone. The sound of keys clicked outside the door. Panic shot through her. In a moment she would be trapped. The image of her angry father slammed into her brain. He stood and scolded her for being a naughty spy. She was in trouble. She thought about the diapers and imagined her humiliation as her legs were raised and the soft cotton prison encased her privates. They seemed very appropriate for diapers, smooth and hairless just like a baby! Through her tears Scully tossed the files back on the desk and grabbed a pen. She wedged her body behind the door. The figure she had so confidently pursued earlier now seemed much larger. She plunged the pen into his upper shoulder with all her force and shoved him hard. He screamed and fell forward onto the edge of the desk. Scully picked up the laptop and cracked it over his head. Sparks danced and the figure collapsed. Scully was dizzy and feared she may pass out. She had only wounded her abductor. Soon he would regain consciousness. Scully fled. She raced along thin corridors of blocked cement crowded by more pipes. Finally, she found a ladder. It led to darkness and a faint low bass beat. She recognized the warehouse environment and maneuvered across the pitch-black cavern. A few times she intersected with a crate and cursed but continued toward the music. Scully's fingers padded forward then stopped. The texture of glass was unmistakable. She restrained her instincts to kick the glass panels free from their frame. The pounding beat was louder, and the music was familiar. Somehow, she had reconnected with the house. Confused she temporarily dismissed the puzzle. She traced her fingers downward and worked her nails deep into the soft wet wood and found the small separation for which she hoped. In minutes she worked her fingers under the frame of the small window. She pulled but it would not move. She summoned all her remaining strength and placed her body close to the floor and lifted. Her arm muscles ripped. The deafening blast of pounding rock music was a mixed blessing. It confirmed her location but gave no frame of reference. The strong cool air felt good on her face but reminded her of her missing underwear. Scully peered into the void around the window. Careful to maintain a firm grip on the frame she stretched. She strained and waved her free arm for a connection. She pulled back inside and straddled the open window. Scully winced as she placed her bare bottom and privates onto the cold sill. A splinter would be unpleasant, especially in that particular area. Scully cautiously reached with her foot to touch solid ground. Frustrated and close to exhaustion she resumed her position inside. Scully squinted into the darkness and her eyes adjusted. The faint image of a tree branch materialized. Underneath she saw an even larger and heavier trunk. Her only course of action would be to leap. The larger branch would absorb her fall and from there she could climb or drop down. It was a gamble of an assumption, but she needed to move forward. Her abductor would wake soon. Scully took a moment to steady her breath and her nerve. She placed both feet onto the sill and mused on the picture she presented. The pink and white dress smudged with patches of dirt had ridden up onto her thighs. The cool air caressed her exposed privates and she poised for her leap of faith. With both hands outside of the window she edged her feet forward. Scully was grateful for the traction of the schoolgirl shoes. She took a deep breath and sprung. She dove hard. Her form resembled an Olympic swimmer as it reacted to the familiar pop of a starting pistol. Upward and outward she flew with her body straight. She slammed squarely onto the massive tree trunk. The force of her impact broke the branch above and it fell onto her back. Scully heaved. The wind knocked out of her. She struggled to calm her erratic breathing. The pain from her jump manifested itself more prominently and her muscles screamed. Pain is a strong motivator. She had to move. Through her clouded mind Scully assessed her physical position. She had landed exactly where she aimed but only her torso and thighs were supported. Her arms and legs dangled lifelessly over the sides of the massive tree branch. Her legs were straight, but her head was lower than her body. This caused her dress to slip down and expose her bare bottom. She had to get out of this position.

Chicken noodle casserole 

It was hard to find my breath as I stood there, nude from the waste down, behind a thin white cardboard wall. The sterile classroom lighting meant no shadows to hide my completely shaved and exposed lower half. My heart raced as my brain struggled to process the reality of what was happening. My wife , Suzie had pestered me for years to seek help about my medical condition she was becoming more and more frustrated by my lack of action and more importantly our diminishing sex life ,I was only ever able to please her with oral sex.You see, I had been suspecting that something was wrong with my penis for years, but I was always too insecure to risk anyone finding out about it, even my girlfriends and when they finally saw me naked the relatinship never lasted long .Suzie was different in that she never mentioned my lack of size certainly not until well after we married.   The veiled  black curtain.was my only hiding place  Two familiar female voices lectured from beyond the veil, reciting the findings of their research. This was their final thesis of medical school and a huge chunk of their grade. Their thesis? A new cutting-edge way of treating micro-penis. Their test subject? Me. And it was only a matter of time before the curtain was pulled and my shriveled, one-inch limp wiener was on display for the whole room.   So how did I get myself roped into this mess? Well, eventually I contacted my Doctor who reffered me to urology specaiists.  So I decided it was time to confront my fears and find out why my penis was SO much smaller than any other one I'd ever seen!   Sure, I was nervous, even but I had been living in the dark for years, anxious and worried that I was inadequate, with  clear  confirmation from Suzie telling me she was unable to feel me inside her and the look on her face after pentrative sex ,with her  understanding nature I had to do something  about it. I couldn't take it anymore.   . What I didn't realize was that this referral  was obviously a teaching facility, and part of the reason it was free was most were  18 year old college students studing psychology  and first year  medical students  most were no older than 23 . By result, I was shocked when my name was called in the waiting room by a  young looking and very cute, dark-haired, Latina who shot me a flirty smile when I stood to follow her.   As she led me to my room, I couldn't help but observe the way her scrubs fit snugly around her curvy figure. Awaiting me in the exam room was another sexy 20-something. This one a little  taller  with a slender figure and long blonde hair . I was twice their age and felt quite an amount of anxiety  Knowing what I was there for, however, my anxiety was spiking hard.   I had every impulse to bail on my plan and just get a normal physical, but I fought off the temptation and doubled down. I had to get answers. It was now or never. 'Maybe they can help me, if it's really that small.' I thought. 'If I don't ask I'll never know!'   They introduced themselves as Student Doctors Jasmine and Natalie. And they must have instantly noticed how nervous I was, because they spoke very gently to me throughout the routine parts of the physical. It was almost as if I was a child in their eyes, being a brand new patient.   Eventually, they got to the bit where they asked if I had any specific concerns or questions and I managed to choke out "Yes but, it's rather private." They reassured me that all of my medical information was strictly private and that I should feel safe to ask anything. Clearly, they've been taught about bedside manners, as they genuinely put some of my nerves at ease.   "Well, it's about my um, my penis. I'm worried about it, I guess." I confessed.   "I see, well no need to be nervous, sweetie. It's important you take care of your whole body, including your penis. And we are here to look after you," Jasmine assured me. "Now, what's worrying you?"   "Oh, okay. Well, you see, it's um... small? I think," I squeaked. They both stifled smiles.   "Ahh, okay. Well, it's normal to be concerned about that. Let's take a look and see if there is any cause for concern," Natalie instructed, coldly. Before I knew it, my pants and boxers were around my ankles and both of the sexy doctors-in-training were staring down at it with puzzled looks. There was a deafening silence as they both leaned in closer to study it. They seemed utterly fascinated by it.   'Better than laughter, at least' It thought. They kept their composure well, but as the exam went on they got more and more thrilled by the discovery. Jasmine used her pen to prop my one inch soft penis up so she could see my balls. Natalie noted that they were undersized as well. At this point they both wore big smiles. Soon, they had a ruler out and were taking thorough measurements, eagerly writing down each finding in my chart.   It didn't take long for their attention to excite me with  their soft delicate hands ,sexy bodies and attractive looks . My penis twitched its way up to just under 3 inches. I always hoped I'd at least hit 3- but no luck. They continued to record their observations, making frequent comments like "Wow, how fascinating!" and "Significantly below average! Remarkable!" and "Such an outlier from a normal adult penis!".   My mind bounced rapidly from emotion to emotion throughout their examination. Embarrassment, arousal and nervousness at hearing their comments , and an odd sense of pride at their captivation were all in rotation. I couldn't tell how long they spent studying my penis as it felt like a lifetime to me.   Eventually, Natalie reported, "Well, you were right to be concerned. I'm afraid you have a textbook case of micro-penis. Meaning, your erect penis is under 3 inches in length- 2.8 to be precise." Jasmine jumped in, "Unfortunately, at your age there isn't much we can do for you physically. If you had seen a doctor about it when you were still in the early stages of puberty, there might have been a hormone treatment that could have helped with development. As it stands however, the rest of your body shows signs of being fully developed. It's only your penis that didn't grow up, and it never will ."   With this news, I suddenly felt thrust into a deep whirlpool of humiliation. My face dropped as I stood before them bottomless, my 2.8 inch boner still pointing up at them as if trying desperately to outgrow its new title of "micro-penis".   "That said, a micro-penis is not the end of the world. And while there is no way to correct the diminutive size of your penis, we do have a different treatment approach in mine. One that will tackle this issue from a different angle- your mindset. The right cognitive therapy could very likely help you come to terms with your condition and help you become quite happy with the body you have," Natalie explained however its worth asking your wife to come to your next appoinment so we can talk to you together".   Jasmine took it from there, "The thing is, we are only medical students. So, if you give us the consent to proceed with this treatment, we'll need to consult our Attending and have her sign-on as our instructor for this unique treatment." Natalie jumped in again, "In fact, micro-penis is rare enough that your case is considered a prime candidate for research and, with your permission, we'd love to use your case for our thesis project."   I wasn't so sure at first, but the promise of being happy with my penis and ensuring Suzie listend to what solutions were available was alluring given how humiliating this day had been already. Jasmine finally convinced me by saying, "And think of it this way, what we learn from studying your micro-penis could help other people with micro-penises all over the world!" With that, I hesitantly agreed.   Before I left, they had me book an appointment with them and their Attending for my file- doctor of psychology named Dr. Cassidy Bridges. Given the nature of the appointment being cognitive therapy and not a strictly medical procedure, I was told to meet with them in Dr. Cassidy's office for private therapy sessions and possible seperate sessions for my wife. Dr. Cassidy was in her early 40s slender body clearly went to the gym and quite an head turner ,her long dark brown hair and dark rimmed glasses gave her a very sexy look.. She came across as  quite has she confident and  conducted herself around the room with professioalism and charming with a commanding presence. I would soon learn that she was an esteemed psychologist that is known for her work pertaining to toxic masculinity and its effect on mental health in men.   I began going to Dr. Cassidy's office once a week for therapy, after finishing work ,sometimes my wife would attend with me and  Natalie, Jasmine, and Dr. Cassidy talked with Suzie seperately .Our sessions  became the highlight of my week. They pushed me. They teased me. They comforted me. They challenged me. They transformed me.Susie found her own sessions "intruiging and thought provoking" but didnt go into great detail.   Now, 6 months later, here I am at Jasmine and Natalie's thesis presentation. The culmination of not just their time on my case, but all of their years in medical school. In a sense, I was honored to be such a big part of their career trajectory. That said, if I had known that part of what I was agreeing to was showcasing my micro-penis to a room full of their peers, and younger students barely 18 years of age ,most  of them would be were female in attendance .  I may not have said yes so easily. However, given everything I had already been through in therapy at this point, I was able to center myself and prepare to be the subject of the room's attention for the next 60 minutes.   My mind state had already been largely transformed since the day I met Jasmine and Natalie. I was still nervous, but I was also a bit excited. The idea of a room full of people seeing my tiny dick would have terrified me a year ago, but now the potential embarrassment drew me in. I was thirsty for it.   You see, the "cognitive therapy" they had in mind was actually an experimental new approach that utilizes SPH or "Small Penis Humiliation" to completely resurrect the sex-life of a micro-penis man from non-existent to overwhelmingly pleasurable. It was essentially exposure therapy. They forced me to face all sorts of various forms of embarrassment surrounding my size in order to train me to be aroused by the humiliation. the private discussions with Suzie were to help reinforce this humiliation during sex ,to be brutally honest how my size ,lack of penetration and  "unable to give her the pleasure and feeling of being filled" And so far, it had worked wonders for both of us -Suzie was able to vocalize her true feelings and let go of years of sexual frustration.Dr Cassidy along with the two junior Doctors suggested flirting with other men or even taking a lover as a solution .   I was having multiple mind-blowing orgasms every day thinking about all this , and all I had to do was allow my micro-penis to be exposed and humiliated. The shame and insecurity weren't overcome or defeated. Rather, they were embraced. And I never felt better!    I found myself more confident in my day-to-day life. It was an enigma to me, but for some reason, being degraded and emasculated in sexual settings by these medial professionals and my own wife  was helping me to flourish in all other aspects of my life. And as humiliating as this thesis presentation was to me, I have to admit- I believed in their thesis. It worked.   Once introductions had been made and formalities were through, the student doctors finally began to break down my case and present their research. We had done a quick walk-through beforehand. So even though I didn't know every detail of their presentation, I knew that they would start by presenting my case. Then, they would explain the treatment plan. Then, they would show the findings from my cognitive SPH-exposure therapy. And finally, they would do a live presentation of the patients results, which is when the curtain is pulled.   I looked behind and above me to the enormous projector screen displaying their presentation as Jasmine began to break down my file. "Patient #028, 42 y/o male- Codename 'sissybabydick' -first presented in January for a commonplace physical and expressed some concern about the development of his penis coupled with intimacy issues with his wife . Upon examination, we were able to immediately confirm upon sight that the patient was certainly below average for his age. With further investigation, we calculated that sissybabydick's  penis measured 1 inch flaccid, 2.8 inches erect, and 2.9 inches in circumference." Gasps and giggles suddenly filled the room as Jasmine clicked to a slide showing 3 photographs of my measured penis, each corresponding with the figures just recited.   Natalie continued, "Given these measurements being less than 2 standard deviations below the mean adult male penis size, we were able to without-question diagnose babydick with a rather severe case if micro-penis. Next slide please. And as you can see here, his testicles are also well below average as well. Every detail of his penis indicates complications during development that unfortunately went untreated due to the patient's severe insecurity surrounding his micro-penis."   "And while it was obvious that there was no way to help babydicks micro-penis grow, we felt confident that we could help baby exist happily with his condition with a ground-breaking experimental therapy that harnesses those feelings of insecurity and anxiety in order to use them constructively," Jasmine confidently proposed.   "And so, it is our delight to present you with our thesis today, 'SPH Therapy: Cognitive Exposure Therapy for Post-Developmental Micro-Penis'! Let's start by breaking it down." Natalie announced. The slides changed to a detailed flow chart outlining the therapeutic approach. "It begins with acceptance of the diagnosis. Then you move to calibration- determining through exposure what types of humiliation trigger a positive response from the patient. Then, exposure therapy that progresses in intensity with the patient's tolerance. And finally, development of an at-home care plan for the patient to practice on their own, allowing them to wean off of therapy and into a proper  permenant SPH lifestyle with spousal support of course "   Jasmine continued, "If done carefully and effectively, we believe Small Penis Humiliation is the number one most effective treatment for the micro-penis condition. Through our patient, sissybabydick, we intend to show you today how the patient's general happiness, confidence, and self-image has positively transformed over the 6 months of SPH treatment Natalie, myself, and our Attending Dr. Cassidy Bridges conducted with him." The crowd clapped at the mention of the esteemed Dr. Cassidy.   "We're also happy to say that Dinky consented to make a live demonstration for you all today, and is patiently waiting behind this partition as we speak!" Jasmine announced, to another soft applause. My heart jumped at the acknowledgment of my presence.   Natalie continued, "But first! Let's walk you step-by-step through our treatment plan up to this point. Next slide!" A slide appeared with the title "Phase 1: Acceptance", and a number of charts and graphs below it. "Before you can dive head first into exposure therapy, it's vital that you establish some baseline truths with the patient. The owner of the micro-penis MUST accept the realities of the condition in order to begin to treat the resulting symptoms."   "So, how do you do that, you ask? With proper education, diligent reinforcement, and recited affirmations. At our first session, we gave Dinky a comprehensive breakdown of penis size. We lectured him on national averages, preferred sizes based on studies, and in comparison, where he stands. As you can see in figure #1, Dinky is in the.1% percentile of men in terms of penis size. This means, in a room full of adult men, he would likely be the smallest one." Jasmine took over, "In figure #2 you can see a simulated comparison of a 2.8 inch penis, representing Dinky, next to a 5.5 inch penis, the national average, and a 7.5 inch penis, the number one preferred penis size according to women. Note that Dinky's erect penis 2 times smaller than average and 3 times smaller than the ideal penis size."   Natalie jumped back in, "And in figure #3, you can see the average penis size at each prospective age. You can see here that Dinky's micro-penis is the same as the average size for an 8 year old, confirming that it did in fact, not develop during puberty." With each new piece of information, the crowd reacted more loudly with sounds of shock and amusement. My face reddened more and more and I felt my penis twitch and throb at the embarrassing statistics.   "Just like we are doing now, we went over all this information with Dinky. We even forced him to memorize these statistics and recite them back to us. Then, we sent him home with a number of affirmations, or mantras, for him to memorize and recite to himself daily." Natalie explained, "And the next week, we had him recite each one from memory many times, see here." She clicked to the next slide and a video began to play.   In frame was my nude body from the shoulders down to my knees, with my shaved-bare pre-pubescent nub exposed to the camera. I heard a number of stifled giggles from the crowd. I began to recite the mantras I had, at this point, been doing for months now. I found myself instinctually mouthing along to them. First, "I have a tiny micro-penis" was repeated 5 times. Then, "Most men have bigger penises than me" 5 times. Then, "My penis didn't grow up properly", then "Women want penises 3 times my size", then "My micro-penis will be tiny forever".   It was mortifying to hear myself make these ridiculously embarrassing confessions to this room full of medical professionals- but my little penis LOVED it. I felt like I was about to burst, especially as the crowd reaction got louder and louder as the video went on. They were fully laughing at me by the end of it! It took everything in me not to touch myself.   Natalie immediately continued as the video ended, "As you can see, Dinky took very well to this exercise. We felt confident after just two sessions that Dinky was ready for Phase 2: Calibration."   Jasmine presented the next slide, revealing a large colorful bar graph. Under each bar was a humiliating nickname for small penises. "The purpose of Calibration is to zero in on what makes the micro-penis tick. Not all small-dicked men are the same, and if you can figure out what works best for your patient, you can maximize the effectiveness of the exposure therapy. So, we began by determining what names Dinky preferred to be called. We recorded his arousal level upon being teased with each nickname, and charted them accordingly. As you can see, Dinky was less fond of degrading terms like 'Worm' or 'Maggot' or 'Disgusting', but responded very strongly towards terms that leaned into emasculation and infantilization, such as 'Pee-Pee', 'Baby Dick', and, most strongly, 'Dinky Winky'- which is what determined his anonymous case profile codename."   Natalie expounded, "Also note Dinky's positive response to feminizing terms such as 'Clitty' and 'Princess', as well as comparison nicknames such as 'Pinky Dick' and 'Baby Carrot'. It's important for the next phase of treatment that you find a wide portfolio of humiliation in order to keep things fresh and exciting for the patient throughout."   They changed to the next slide, revealing a series of photos of my penis clad in different silly attire. One with a pink bow tied around it, one in tight pink princess panties, one in a crotchless thong, and one in a diaper. Natalie explained, "Given the result of the nickname test, we decided an attire test should be next. The proper outfit can be a key factor in effective SPH treatment. As you can see by the various states of arousal and, though difficult to see, bulge- all four of these experiments were winners for Dinky."   Jasmine hit the next slides and begin to lecture, "And here we have a collection of results from our comparison test, to calibrate if Dinky enjoys size comparisons to a variety of objects. He reacted strongly to pretty much all the comparison, but notably the pinky finger, baby's pacifier, and the 8 inch dildo were his strongest responses. In fact Dinky actually came prematurely all over himself when we first held the dildo up to his petite erection, hence why he isn't hard in this photo. Though, it is interesting how flaccid post-orgasm micro-penis seems smaller than just the head of the above average dildo. Remarkable!"   As they presented the various results of my SPH calibration tests, I relived those humiliating moments in Dr. Cassidy's office. Jasmine and Natalie were excitedly dressing me up like a doll, and holding whatever object they could find up to my boner, as Dr. Cassidy just sat at her office chair and watched on, smirking to herself at the gleeful curiosity of the medical student under her mentorship. I felt so powerless and helpless in that room, but every time I left, I couldn't wait to be back.

Starbucks is OK for road coffee, I guess. At least you know what you're getting whether you're in Wyoming or Pennsylvania. There are many good or better places to get coffee in town where I live. College towns, y'know...coffee, beer, & pizza on every street corner.