Cuts of My Life (The Chronicles of Enhanced Males Book 2)

by Doc King

  The Chronicles of Enhanced Males

  Part Two: Cuts of My Life

  Doc King

  Copyright © 2015, by Doc King All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Foreword

  What is power? Is it money? Social status? Career? Family? Sex?

  Whatever answer you pick, you’re not wrong. However, whatever answer you pick, you’re not right, either. Power is not a one-way street. It is a synergy of different factors, intertwined, complementary, which merge into a superstreet that can either be the Stairway to Heaven or the Highway to Hell. Most of the time, it’s both.

  Of course, different people have different needs, and the relative proportion of individual factors we use to measure power varies from one person to another. For some, career is the key factor that makes them feel powerful; for others, it’s money; and finally, there are those who measure power by the number of sexual partners they’ve had. It is all relative and susceptible to discussion and analysis, but I’m afraid I’d go too far, trying to explain every little detail.

  Besides, since the very beginning of mankind, people have strived to find answers to numerous questions about the essence, being, and other matters that human existence relies on, including the matter of power.

  Likewise, I have spent my entire 36-year-long career trying to answer miscellaneous questions dealing with the essentials: “Who are we?”, “What are we?”, and “Where are we going?”

  What is the force driving us forward?

  Power?

  Could be. But, what kind of power? What forces underlie it?

  I’m Dr King, a psychotherapist, and I specialize in behavioral therapy and psychoanalysis. I’ve had over 2500 clients. My main field of expertise and the focus of my work is the theory of the evolution of libido, within which I have developed various methods for overcoming various problems. Throughout my career, I have encountered many cases in which problems were often caused by deficits in self-awareness, self-confidence, and valuing one’s own capacities and achievements. Or, to put it simply, the problems stemmed from the deficit in power.

  Over the years of working as a therapist, I have devised the so-called, “mirror technique”, whose goal is to make the patients see themselves where they currently are, and, by the end of therapy, realize who they really are, leaving my office as better, more self-confident, and more successful people.

  I have triumphantly applied this technique in almost 95% of the cases. Numerous colleagues have been talking me into writing a book about this technique, to patent it, so to speak, and profit from it. However, I’m one of those people for whom money doesn’t rate high on the list of power factors. I was happy just having my patients come to me and leave my office satisfied.

  So, what made me decide to write this book?

  Throughout my long career, mostly men have been turning to me, looking for help, and one could notice a sort of a pattern in the sample. The root of their problems was more or less the same. It was sex that was stopping them from reaching their true selves and their full capacities. This pattern inspired me to perfect my methods in the field of sexual therapy, so I could help my patients more adequately.

  Numerous sexual dysfunctions, such as inability to achieve an erection, premature ejaculation, or inability to climax, were main reasons why my patients decided to turn to me for help. Sexual dysfunction pushed them towards anxiety, depression, and into a vicious circle they couldn’t break.

  One of the most frequent problems my patients spoke of was inadequate size of the sex organ. They are not alone in this; it is the problem most men suffer from in the contemporary world, where power is directly proportional to the size of the penis.

  Self-confidence induced by a large penis is the key to success in life, be it sex, love, or work. It’s easier to find a partner, a job, or achieve success of any kind if your body language exudes self-confidence resulting from the size of your sex organ. True, statistics have shown that the danger of catching an STD and dying in consequence is greater as well. This book will also deal with the problems of men whose penis is large or too large.

  Now try imagining how, for some people, everything is diametrically opposite because their penis is too small. It is harder for them to approach persons of the opposite sex, because they know that it is just another failure waiting to happen. Other people will get the jobs they want, because during the job interviews, their body language, impeded by the size of their penis, shows the employer how anxious and insecure they really are.

  In treating this problem, therapists most frequently resort to the traditional approach, explaining their patients that they have no choice but to be themselves, and founding their therapeutic approach on the efforts to make the patients happy with what they’ve got.

  My approach goes one step further, because I wasn’t satisfied with the results that basically summed up to pulling the wool over everybody’s eyes. What we were solving were mere fragments, while the real problem remained unsolved.

  I decided to explore unconventional methods that could help my patients solve their problems. At first, I suggested using auxiliary methods, such as vacuum erection devices, so they could begin by eliminating at least one problem on the psychological level.

  But this merely solved the temporary problem of achieving an erection, not the problem of permanent penis enlargement.

  On one of my travels, I met a cultural anthropologist who was then conducting a research in an African tribe that exercised a ritual of penis enlargement. In their value system, penis size was a characteristic of every grown man that had to take part in the ritual. My trained eye couldn’t overlook the data in his report showing that the average penis size in that tribe was significantly greater than that in the rest of the world. The anthropologist had an interesting collection of research on penis size in other tribes around the globe, and I focused on those that had the largest average values. Taking further interest in those tribes, I discovered that what they all had in common were penis enlargement rituals. The rituals in question revealed an ancient technique which, if applied properly, resulted in permanent enlargement of erectile tissue.

  I decided to approach a couple of my patients with the proposition that they could, apart from attending our sessions, try doing penis enlargement exercises at home, in accordance with the clearly defined instructions, and we would record the progress together.

  This was a rather risky step to take, since I could have been labeled as a charlatan by many, which would result in my losing both my current and my future patients.

  At first, we were equally skeptical, both my patients and I. But, as time passed, the results began to show, first in terms of enlargement (in some patients, noticeable in a matter of just a couple of months), and then, consequently, in terms of life changes. Changes for the better. My patients became more self-confident, more self-aware, and significantly more extrovert; they advanced both professionally and romantically.

  It was truly eye-opening,
no matter how rough it might sound, that size really does matter. With larger penis came greater happiness for my patients.

  We recorded their progress together, in the form of notes and audio diaries, created based on a series of conversations. I tried to make the conversations, although taking place in formal sessions, more casual than that in the standard sessions. I asked them to be open and detailed in their descriptions, and that is exactly what we had achieved.

  Later on, while listening to the conversations and reading the notes, I realized that, by virtue of this casual form and the quantity and quality of information thus obtained, many people could benefit, since it was a simple way for them to recognize the extents of the change that had occurred. I entertained the idea of publishing the results in a series of books.

  I contacted the patients that had participated in the application of this method, so I could ask for their permission to publish the collected material. I was shocked when a few of them explicitly demanded that I use their real names in the book, which I, of course, refused to do, in accordance with the legal and moral code of every respectable therapist.

  - Ok, then at least don’t sugar-coat it. Let the people see, hear, and feel the real truth. – they would most often add.

  Needless to say that most of them agreed to participate in the project, which is why this book includes the experiences of all those men who have agreed to share their stories with the readers.

  I’m telling this story in their words. No censorship or sugar-coating.

  All pieces of information in this book are published in agreement with the patients. The names of the persons, institutions, and locations have been altered for the purpose of preserving their discretion and privacy. Some of the original names have remained unchanged for the purpose of authenticity.

  Any resemblance to real persons or institutions is purely coincidental.

  Part Two: Cuts of My Life

  - Sir, are you sure you want another drink? – asks the deep, leery voice across the bar.

  I look at my fingers intertwined around a glass of bourbon. I’m leaning against a wooden counter, worn out by many elbows and cheeks that have rested on it since the bar was opened. Proudly serving you since 1923, says the writing above the entrance door.

  I look up. My eyes meet the worried expression on the young waiter’s face across the counter. He’s got a thick dark beard and nerdy glasses. Wool cap is covering his wavy hair, which is sticking to his neck in sweaty spirals. He’s holding a bottle in his hand.

  - Sir?

  - Just pour away. – I muster. – If water makes up 70% of a man, then bourbon will make up the same percentage of me.

  I’m still holding up, but if I was to try to get up from my chair, I would prove that the aim I’ve just stated is almost accomplished.

  - What’s the occasion? – he’s reluctant to pour me another drink and has a sour smile on his face; I guess he’s trying to cheer me up.

  - I’m celebrating.

  - Yeah, what? – he’s persistent.

  I take a sip of bourbon.

  - I’m celebrating… the fact that everything is a circle that will close sooner or later and you can’t escape from it.

  - We don’t often have guests with such interesting and abstract thoughts.

  I look at him. He’s smiling more confidently. Oh, shit, don’t tell me you’re hitting on me. You’re gay, right? You’ve got that spark in the eye.

  - Sorry to be rude, but tonight, I want to drown them all, both the abstract and the banal. When I think about it, I’m going to need the whole bottle for that task. – I take a crumpled $100 bill from my pocket and throw it onto the counter.

  - As you wish. – says the bearded guy, looking a bit offended, and leaves the bottle in front of me.

  Then he turns to some girls who have just walked into the bar. They’re kissing one another on the cheeks and chirping.

  My brain is in a haze. All I see is the half-full bottle of the dark-honey colored liquid which makes everything easier. Everything really is a fucking circle that needs to close. Even when you’re miles away and running for your life, the past catches up on you sooner or later. Wherever you may hide, that miserable stalker will find you. Whatever lie you may say about yourself, the past will show up, holding the log of your secret embarrassments, wide open for everyone to read.

  The life I’ve been keeping away from me for years has finally caught up with me. The image of me I’ve been carefully putting together like a jigsaw puzzle since I’ve arrived in NY will break into pieces. I will never be able to put back in place. All because of one man. The man that had been ruining my life for years. The man who knows my darkest secrets. Bryan Aldridge. The past with the log of my embarrassments. The ID of the real me.

  He’s got a nerve, calling me his friend. I take a sip. Oh, the look Angela gave me.

  - Mark, you’ve never told me anything about Bryan. You’re really friends?

  I’m silent.

  - We were inseparable. – answers Bryan instead. – But, that’s Mark. Forever ashamed of the boondocks he grew up in. As well as the people who could remind him of it.

  Angela’s face reads mild disappointment.

  - But now we’ll have the chance to make up for everything we’ve missed over the years, right, Mark? – his smiling face should be included in an illustrated encyclopedia, as the definition of cynicism.

  - Good to see you, Bryan. – I muster – Welcome to ThinkBean.

  I’m trying to smile for Angela, but it doesn’t look pretty.

  - I’m sorry, Angela, but I’ve got a lot of work to do. I should get going. See you later? Bryan. – I nod, trying to avoid looking at him.

  - Sure, Mark, we have all the time in the world. – he says and closes the door behind me as he walks me out.

  I wash my face in the men’s room. I rush past puzzled Laura without saying a word.

  - Mark, is everything… – I don’t wait for her to finish the question, but walk into the office and close the door.

  In there, I panic, shiver, sweat. I can’t focus on work. The circle is closing. The past finds you. No matter what you do. Game over. Checkmate.

  After work, I find this bar and I’m already drinking who knows which drink in a row. Tomorrow will most certainly come, bringing this same problem along, but I don’t want to think about that now. I enjoy the mild numbness spreading from the back of my head and my cheeks down to my legs. I look at the half-empty bottle and plot how to finish it. Bottoms up, or slowly, sip by sip.

  Sometimes a talk with complete strangers could help us taking a load off our chest. Maybe Mark would feel a lot better if he let bartender giving ear to his problems. He just wanted to talk. What's could possibly go wrong? Find out in Author's Cut.

  You can download it at: http://enhancedmales.com

  - Hey. I hope you’re not planning on drinking that all alone. – I hear a voice coming from my left.

  I turn around and see a girl with dark blond wavy hair and irresistible smile. She’s wearing tight jeans and a white sleeveless shirt, with an impressive cleavage, revealing even more impressive content.

  - Why, hello. – I say and give her a half-drunken smile. – Would you like a drink?

  - Sure. I noticed you sitting there all alone, and I thought you might use some company.

  - You’ve got great intuition and…

  - Excellent timing. – she gives a throaty laugh.

  - Exactly. Moments are all we really have in life, so we should enjoy them to the max, like an acquaintance of mine recently pointed out to me.

  - Wonderfully put.

  - Yes, truly enchanting. Bartender! A glass for the lady.

  The bearded guy comes sliding in like a ghost, carrying a glass. I wink at him, which makes him even sulkier. Sorry, my friend, no ass pounding for you tonight. Not involving my ass, anyway.

  - Listen. – she says at one point and lowers my hand just as I’m about to take a sip. – What do you say we
go to my place? Before you get completely wasted.

  - I like your proposition, young lady. And what shall we do at your place?

  - I’ll show you my art collection.

  I look at her cleavage, but she pushes my chin up with her finger.

  - No, no, naughty boy.

  - Oh, I’ve been really naughty. Are you going to punish me?

  - I sure am. You deserve to be punished. – she whispers into my ear.

  I feel movement in my crotch.

  - Let’s go! – I finish my bourbon and jump up from my chair.

  I lean onto her as we walk out of the bar, laughing like crazy.

  ***

  - Not really in the mood to party, huh? – Ann is looking at my lethargic cock lying across my stomach, showing no signs of life.

  - I’m sorry... – I’m blushing with shame.

  - Wait, I think I know just the thing to cheer him up. – she says with a smile.

  She takes it and puts it between her breasts. She moves them up and down with her hands, but nothing’s happening. The very look at her perfect tits would normally be enough for an instant erection, but obviously not tonight.

  - Fuck… - I apologize again.

  - Don’t beat yourself up. I probably picked you up one glass of bourbon too late. – she laughs.

  Too bad, such a casual and insanely hot girl, and I’ve got a knocked out lobworm in my pants.