Under Female Supervision: A Medical SPH Novel

I wrote a short story, bittersweet: Explicit Medical Femdom featuring Clothed Female Nude Male, Small Penis Humiliation and Male Training

Have fun! :)

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The imposing glass facade of the Wellness & Behavioral Correction Institute loomed before Andrew, its modern architecture a stark contrast to the quiet suburban medical complex surrounding it. He checked the address on his phone one last time - 1847 Whispering Pine Drive. This was definitely the place his urologist had referred him to, though the building looked more like a high-end spa than a medical facility.

Andrew's palms were already sweating as he stood there in his ill-fitting khakis and rumpled blue button-down shirt. At twenty-three, his boyish face and lean 5'9" frame made him look even younger, especially when nervous. He ran his fingers through his disheveled brown hair, trying to compose himself. The morning sun felt unusually warm for September, or maybe it was just his anxiety making him sweat through his clothes.

The automatic doors whispered open, releasing a blast of cool, perfumed air. The lobby could have been mistaken for a luxury hotel - all marble floors, modern art, and sleek furniture. Behind a curved white reception desk sat three young women who looked more like models than medical staff. The shortest one, a petite redhead with brilliant green eyes and freckles dusting her nose, looked up and flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Welcome to WBCI! Do you have an appointment?" Her voice was musical, her white uniform dress hugging curves that made Andrew's mouth go dry. Her name tag read 'Nurse Katie.'

"I... uh... yes. Andrew Mitchell. Ten o'clock." He tried not to stare at the way her uniform stretched across her chest as she typed his name into the computer.

"Ah yes, here you are. First-time patient for... behavioral modification therapy." Her eyes flickered up to meet his, a knowing look making his cheeks burn. The other two receptionists, both stunning brunettes, exchanged glances and subtle smirks.

"If you could just fill out these forms..." Katie handed him a tablet with an electronic questionnaire. "Please be as detailed as possible about your condition. The more information we have, the better we can... treat you."

Andrew retreated to one of the plush leather chairs, crossing his legs to hide his growing discomfort. The questions started innocently enough - basic medical history, allergies, current medications. Then they got increasingly personal:

"Average frequency of self-stimulation per day?"
 He reluctantly typed: 8-10 times
 "Duration of each session?"
 15-45 minutes
 "Maximum frequency in 24 hours?"
 His face burned as he entered: 13 times
 "Current genital measurements when fully aroused?"
 He swallowed hard: 4.3 inches

As he completed the humiliating questionnaire, a steady stream of staff members passed through the lobby. Each one seemed impossibly beautiful - tall, leggy doctors in lab coats that somehow looked like fashion statements, nurses whose uniforms seemed tailored to emphasize every curve. Not a single male employee in sight.

A statuesque blonde in scrubs that could have been painted on strode past, her perfect posterior swaying hypnotically. Andrew shifted uncomfortably, his persistent problem already manifesting. This was why he was here - his inability to control these urges, the constant need for release that had taken over his life. Even now, his right hand twitched with the familiar impulse.

"Mr. Mitchell?" A new voice, smooth as honey, made him jump. He looked up to see yet another gorgeous staff member - this one a tall Asian woman in her early thirties, with high cheekbones and lips painted a subtle rose. Her lab coat bore the name "Dr. Victoria Chang, MD, PhD."

"Y-yes?" he stammered, standing awkwardly with the tablet clutched in front of his crotch.

"I'll be conducting your initial evaluation today. Please follow me." She turned and began walking down a softly lit corridor, her heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor. Andrew trailed behind, trying desperately not to watch the way her coat swished with each step.

They passed several examination rooms, each with frosted glass doors bearing different labels: "Behavioral Modification Suite," "Stimulus Response Testing," "Endurance Training." The meanings made his imagination run wild, and he had to take several deep breaths to maintain composure.

Dr. Chang led him into a room labeled "Initial Assessment." Unlike standard sterile medical offices, this one was decorated in soothing blues and grays, with ambient lighting and what looked like surprisingly comfortable examination table covered in soft leather.

"Please have a seat," she gestured to a modern chair while taking her own behind a sleek desk. As she crossed her legs, her coat parted to reveal a pencil skirt that rode up her thighs. "I've reviewed your intake forms. Eight to ten daily episodes of self-gratification is indeed concerning, especially given your... modest endowment."

Andrew wanted to sink through the floor. Hearing his shameful habits discussed so clinically by this beautiful doctor made everything worse. A familiar tension began building in his groin.

"Tell me, when did this compulsion begin?" Dr. Chang leaned forward slightly, her silk blouse shifting in ways that made it hard to maintain eye contact.

"I... uh... I guess around puberty? But it got really bad in college. I couldn't focus on classes. Had to... you know... between lectures. Sometimes even in the library bathrooms." The words tumbled out in a mortified rush.

"Mhmm." She made a note on her tablet. "And current triggers? What stimuli typically prompt these episodes?"

"Just... women, I guess? Attractive women. Like if someone beautiful walks by, or if I see a nice... um..." He gestured vaguely, unable to say 'ass' or 'breasts' to this sophisticated doctor.

"I see." Her painted lips curved in a slight smile. "And right now? Are you experiencing urges?"

Andrew's face felt like it was on fire. His erection strained against his khakis, impossible to hide while seated. "I... yes," he whispered.

"On a scale of 1-10, how strong is the compulsion to touch yourself right now?"

"Eight? Maybe nine?" He squirmed in his chair.

"I suspected as much." Dr. Chang stood smoothly, her coat falling open to reveal her full outfit - the silk blouse was nearly sheer in the soft lighting, her skirt hugging every curve. "We'll need to conduct a physical examination to establish baseline responses. Please remove all your clothing and lie on the table."

Andrew froze. "All of it?"

"Everything," she confirmed, snapping on latex gloves with practiced efficiency. "Don't worry - at this facility, we take a very... hands-on approach to treatment."

Before he could respond, she pressed an intercom button. "Nurses Stevens and Rodriguez to Assessment Room 4, please." Within moments, two more stunning women entered - one a tall redhead with legs that went on forever, the other a curvy Latina with bedroom eyes and pillowy lips.

"Ladies, please assist Mr. Mitchell in disrobing and prep him for examination. I'll return momentarily." Dr. Chang glided out, leaving Andrew alone with the nurses who were advancing with professional yet predatory smiles.

"Don't be shy," Nurse Stevens purred, reaching for his shirt buttons. "We see cases like yours all day long. Though usually..." her eyes dropped to his crotch, "they're a bit more... substantial."

Nurse Rodriguez circled behind him, her breath warm on his neck as she helped slide his shirt off. "Pobrecito... so tense. We'll help you relax."

As four soft hands began efficiently stripping him, Andrew realized this therapy was going to be unlike anything he'd imagined...

Under the soft LED lighting, Andrew stood completely undressed, his arms instinctively trying to cover his inadequacies. The cool air raised goosebumps across his pale, relatively hairless skin. Nurse Stevens and Nurse Rodriguez exchanged a meaningful glance as they began documenting his measurements.

"Arms up please," Nurse Stevens directed, her measuring tape sliding against his skin. "Hmm... chest 36 inches. Rather narrow shoulders..." She jotted notes on her tablet while Nurse Rodriguez circled him like a hawk.

"Muscle tone is... minimal," the Latina nurse commented professionally, though her subtle emphasis made Andrew flush. Her manicured fingers pressed into his soft bicep. "Do you exercise at all, Mr. Mitchell?"

"S-sometimes... I mean, I walk a lot..." His voice trailed off as both nurses made noncommittal "mhmm" sounds.

"Note marked physical underdevelopment for age," Nurse Stevens murmured as she typed. "Feminine hip-to-waist ratio..." Her measuring tape wrapped around his midsection, her perfume making his head spin.

"Turn please," Nurse Rodriguez commanded. As he rotated, he heard a barely concealed snicker. "Glutes significantly underdeveloped. Grade 2 posterior feminization."

The clinical terminology somehow made it worse. Andrew knew they were basically saying he had a girl's butt. His face burned as they continued their assessment, their professional masks occasionally slipping to reveal barely hidden amusement.

The door opened and Dr. Chang returned, now accompanied by an even more stunning blonde doctor whose coat read "Dr. Sarah Palmer, Sexual Behavior Specialist."

"How are our baseline measurements coming along?" Dr. Palmer asked, her voice rich and smooth like expensive chocolate. She took the tablet, perfectly manicured nails scrolling through the notes. "Oh my... yes, I see what you mean, Victoria."

Dr. Chang nodded. "Classic case of delayed masculinization. Note the minimal body hair distribution and underdeveloped secondary sexual characteristics."

Andrew stood there trembling as they discussed his body like he was a specimen, using technical terms that barely masked their true meanings. His persistent erection betrayed him, bobbing slightly with his rapid heartbeat despite its modest size.

"Mr. Mitchell appears to be experiencing stimulus response despite the examination," Dr. Palmer noted with clinical detachment. "Though the reaction is... somewhat underwhelming. Nurse Stevens, please measure while he's in this state."

The redheaded nurse approached with a smaller measuring tape, her face professional but her eyes dancing with barely contained mirth. Her soft hands moved his own away from their protective position.

"Four point two inches erect," she announced. "Significantly below average girth as well."

"Smaller than in his self-reported intake forms," Dr. Chang added. "Patients often... overestimate."

A bead of precum formed at his tip as Nurse Stevens continued measuring, her latex-covered fingers clinical but still somehow arousing. Behind him, Nurse Rodriguez was testing his muscle density, her strong fingers kneading his soft flesh.

"Very little resistance in the gluteal muscles," she reported. "Should we note potential hormone therapy as a future treatment option?"

"Let's complete the full workup first," Dr. Palmer replied. She approached Andrew directly now, her ice-blue eyes piercing. "Mr. Mitchell, your physical development suggests some endocrine irregularities. When did you last experience significant muscle growth?"

"I... uh... maybe high school?" He could barely focus with four beautiful women examining every inch of him, their professional demeanor somehow making it all more intensely humiliating.

"Evidently arrested development," Dr. Palmer murmured to Dr. Chang. "Note the feminine fat distribution pattern in the hip region."

Nurse Stevens was now checking his chest. "Mild gynecomastia present," she reported, fingers brushing his sensitive nipples and making him gasp.

"Heightened sensitivity noted," Dr. Chang said. "Typical of underdeveloped masculine characteristics."

Andrew's erection throbbed painfully as they continued their examination, discussing his various inadequacies in clinical terms while occasionally sharing knowing looks. Every touch, though professional, sent jolts of electricity through his overstimulated body.

"Turn and bend forward please," Dr. Palmer instructed. "Hands on the examination table."

As he complied, he heard a poorly suppressed giggle from one of the nurses, quickly covered by a cough. The cool air hit his exposed regions as latex-covered hands spread him for inspection.

"Perineal sensitivity test," Dr. Chang announced. Without warning, her gloved finger pressed against his most private area, making him jump and squeak in a most unmanly way.

"Vocal response registers in typically feminine range," Dr. Palmer noted. "Nurse Rodriguez, please record these reactions for the case file."

The Latina nurse held up a tablet, apparently filming his responses as Dr. Chang continued her intimate examination. Each probe and touch made his small member leak more precum onto the floor.

"Subject displays extreme sensitivity to prostate stimulus," Dr. Chang reported clinically. "Consistent with chronic masturbation pattern."

"Poor impulse control noted," added Dr. Palmer. "See how he's dripping already? Typical of developmentally delayed cases."

Andrew's thighs trembled as they continued discussing him like a science project. He felt another warm drop of fluid escape his tip, adding to the small puddle forming below.

"Should we proceed with the stamina assessment?" Nurse Stevens asked, a slight teasing lilt in her professional tone.

"Yes, but first..." Dr. Palmer moved to face Andrew. "Mr. Mitchell, your condition appears quite severe. We'll need to conduct extensive therapy sessions, possibly daily. Are you prepared for an intensive treatment program?"

His breath came in shallow pants as Dr. Chang's examination continued. "Y-yes... anything... please..."

"Desperation response logged," Dr. Palmer said to Nurse Rodriguez's tablet. "Alright ladies, let's proceed with stamina testing. Standard protocol seventeen."

Andrew heard latex gloves being changed behind him as Dr. Palmer lifted his chin to meet her gaze. "Remember, you're not to release without permission. We need to document your baseline control... or lack thereof."

Four sets of hands began working methodically over his trembling body as Andrew realized this was only the beginning of his "treatment"...

Under the soft LED lighting, Andrew stood completely undressed, his hands awkwardly trying to cover his persistent erection. Despite his best efforts to think unsexy thoughts, his member remained stubbornly rigid, a steady stream of clear precum forming a small wet spot on the examination room floor.

"Mr. Mitchell," Dr. Chang said with professional patience, "we need to begin with baseline measurements in a relaxed state." Her eyes flickered to his futile attempts at coverage. "Your... excitement... while natural, is impeding proper examination."

Nurse Stevens approached with a measuring tape, her green eyes clinical but somehow amused. "Rather impressive precum production," she noted, making Andrew's face burn hotter. "Should be noted in the file as a positive physiological response."

"Indeed," Dr. Palmer agreed, studying her tablet. "However, we need flaccid measurements first. Mr. Mitchell, please try to relax."

Andrew nodded miserably, but being bare in a room with four stunning medical professionals made that nearly impossible. Every time he almost got his breathing under control, one of them would move, their uniforms rustling or heels clicking on the floor, and his arousal would surge again.

"Sorry," he mumbled, mortified as another drop of precum escaped his tip. "I'm trying..."

"Nurse Rodriguez, perhaps some cold compresses while we document his general measurements?" Dr. Chang suggested.

The Latina nurse retrieved some chilled towels. "Arms up please, Mr. Mitchell. Let's start with basic measurements while you... compose yourself."

Andrew raised his arms, exposing his lean torso. He wasn't out of shape, exactly, but there was little definition to his muscles. Nurse Stevens began measuring his chest and shoulders.

"Chest 36 inches," she reported. "Shoulders 38 inches. Within normal range but..." she paused diplomatically, "on the leaner side."

"Minimal upper body development," Dr. Palmer noted. "Mr. Mitchell, do you engage in regular strength training?"

"No... not really," he admitted, wincing as Nurse Rodriguez began applying the cold compresses to his groin. Despite the chill, his erection barely flagged.

"Upper arm circumference 11 inches," Nurse Stevens continued measuring. "Below average muscular development for age and height."

Dr. Chang made notes while circling him slowly. "Some tension in the trapezius muscles. Likely from... frequent manual stimulation?"

Andrew wanted to disappear into the floor. They were basically saying he was weak because he spent all his time masturbating instead of working out.

"Core strength appears minimal," Nurse Rodriguez commented, her strong fingers pressing into his soft abdomen. "No significant muscle definition."

"I walk a lot," Andrew offered weakly, still fighting his persistent arousal despite the cold towels.

"Cardiovascular exercise alone is insufficient for proper masculine development," Dr. Palmer explained. "Your file indicates up to thirteen... episodes... per day? That energy could be better directed toward physical improvement."

Another drop of precum betrayed him, sliding down his shaft despite the cold compresses. Nurse Rodriguez clicked her tongue softly.

"Still producing considerable seminal fluid," she noted. "Even with cooling therapy."

"Impressive production rate," Dr. Chang agreed. "Though this hypersexual response is precisely why he's here for treatment."

"Let's try distraction techniques," Dr. Palmer suggested. "Mr. Mitchell, please recite multiplication tables while we continue measuring."

"Seven times one is seven," Andrew began shakily as the nurses continued their assessment. "Seven times two is... oh!" He jumped as Nurse Stevens measured his inner thigh.

"Focus, Mr. Mitchell," Dr. Palmer commanded. "Seven times three?"

"Twenty-one... seven times four is..." He tried desperately to concentrate as cool latex hands moved efficiently over his body. His erection finally began to soften slightly.

"Good response to cognitive distraction," Dr. Chang noted. "Continue with the mathematics please."

For several minutes, Andrew recited multiplication tables while the medical team measured and documented every aspect of his physique. Their clinical touches and professional terminology somehow made it worse than if they'd been openly mocking him.

"Note moderate pectoral development," Nurse Stevens reported, measuring his chest again. "Though insufficient for age and frame."

"Definitely below optimal muscle mass," Dr. Palmer agreed. "Both aesthetic and functional improvements needed."

Finally, after what seemed like hours of measurements and cold compresses, Andrew's erection subsided enough for proper documentation.

"Flaccid length three point two inches," Nurse Stevens measured quickly before he could become excited again. "Girth three inches even."

"Within bottom percentile range," Dr. Chang noted. "But consistent with reported chronic stimulation causing temporary size reduction."

Andrew's cheeks burned. Even their attempts at being encouraging only emphasized his inadequacies. His member threatened to stiffen again at Nurse Stevens' touch.

"Measuring tape isn't going to be accurate much longer," Nurse Rodriguez observed as his penis began to swell once more. "Subject shows extreme response to minimal contact."

"Clearly significant impulse control issues," Dr. Palmer said. "Mr. Mitchell, your inability to maintain a relaxed state is precisely why you're here. Each time you become aroused, your body produces more seminal fluid, creating a cycle of necessary release."

As if to prove her point, a fresh drop of precum beaded at his tip. Nurse Stevens efficiently wiped it away with a cold compress, but the clinical touch only excited him further.

"Should we proceed with strength assessment while we have him relatively calm?" Dr. Chang suggested. "Before arousal becomes unmanageable again?"

"Good idea," Dr. Palmer agreed. "Mr. Mitchell, please approach the resistance testing station. Nurses, continue cooling therapy as needed. We need to document his baseline strength before beginning treatment protocols."

Andrew followed their directions to a weight machine in the corner, his face burning as his erection began returning despite the cold compresses. He could hear the nurses whispering behind him, their professional masks slipping slightly as they discussed his obvious lack of physical development.

"Remember, this is a medical examination," Dr. Palmer reminded him as he positioned himself at the machine. "Try to focus on the task rather than the presence of medical staff."

Andrew nodded miserably, knowing it was useless. Even their clinical professionalism turned him on, and the growing wet spot beneath him betrayed his lack of control.

"Let's begin with basic pull strength," Dr. Chang announced, adjusting the machine's settings. "Though given his muscular development, we should start well below average weight..."

"Ten more repetitions," Dr. Palmer instructed as Andrew struggled with the lightweight lat pulldown bar. His bare form trembled with effort, drops of sweat joining the steady drips of precum on the padded floor mat. The constant drip-drip sound only added to his mortification.

Nurse Stevens stood nearby with her tablet, documenting each rep. "Subject struggling with 40-pound resistance. Significant muscle fatigue evident." Her professional tone barely masked her amusement at his performance.

"Nnngh..." Andrew grunted, face burning as he completed another weak pull. His erection bobbed with each movement, leaving shiny trails on his inner thigh.

"Maintaining arousal even during physical exertion," Dr. Chang noted clinically. "Quite impressive precum production. Almost continuous flow now."

"The physical effort seems to be increasing his excitement," Nurse Rodriguez observed, readying another cold compress. She dabbed at his dripping tip, making him gasp and twitch.

"P-please..." Andrew panted, both from exertion and arousal. "I can't..."

"Three more," Dr. Palmer insisted. "Then we'll measure your aroused state." Her heels clicked on the floor as she circled him, making notes. "Though your strength scores are concerning, your sexual response is remarkably consistent."

Andrew's arms shook as he forced out the final reps. Sweat ran down his lean chest, his penis achingly hard despite his exhaustion. The knowing looks between the medical staff made everything more intense.

"Alright, you can release the bar," Dr. Chang finally said. "Nurse Stevens, please measure him while he's fully aroused."

The redheaded nurse approached with her measuring tape. "Stand straight please, hands at your sides." Her latex-covered fingers brushed his shaft as she positioned the tape.

"Four point three inches erect," she announced. "Though there's visible throbbing, suggesting possible additional expansion."

"That's... that's as big as it gets," Andrew stammered, mortified.

"Hmm." Dr. Palmer raised an elegant eyebrow. "In our experience, male patients often achieve maximum size only under optimal stimulation. Nurse Rodriguez, prepare the arousal assessment tools."

The Latina nurse wheeled over a cart covered with a cloth. Andrew's eyes widened as she unveiled various medical instruments.

"We'll begin with standard tactile response testing," Dr. Chang explained, snapping on fresh gloves. "Mr. Mitchell, please inform us if you feel any additional growth potential."

Before Andrew could protest, skilled hands began methodically exploring his most sensitive areas. Dr. Chang's fingers traced expert patterns while Nurse Stevens continued measuring, calling out minute changes.

"Point one inch increase," she reported. "Slight girth expansion noted."

"External prostate stimulation may yield better results," Dr. Palmer suggested. "Nurse Rodriguez?"

Cool gel dripped between his cheeks as the nurse's gloved finger found his most private area. Andrew gasped, more precum flowing freely now.

"Subject highly responsive to posterior stimulation," Nurse Rodriguez reported professionally. "Though size increase remains minimal."

"Try simultaneous stimulation," Dr. Palmer directed. "We need accurate measurements for his file."

Andrew moaned helplessly as three sets of latex-covered hands worked in clinical precision. His cock throbbed desperately but grew no larger.

"Still four point four inches," Nurse Stevens confirmed. "I believe this may be his maximum extension."

"Rather disappointing," Dr. Chang murmured to Dr. Palmer, just loud enough for Andrew to hear. "Even with optimal stimulation."

His face burned with shame as they continued their relentless examination, discussing his inadequate size in professional terms that somehow made it worse than outright mockery.

"Note continuous precum production," Nurse Rodriguez observed, her finger still working expertly. "Perhaps quantity compensates for... other metrics?"

"Indeed," Dr. Palmer agreed. "While size is unfortunate, his fluid response is quite impressive. Nurse Stevens, please collect a sample for analysis."

Andrew watched through heavy-lidded eyes as the redheaded nurse held a graduated cylinder under his dripping tip. The steady plink-plink of his precum falling into the container echoed in the quiet room.

"Two milliliters already," she reported after a moment. "Still flowing steadily."

"The combination of minimal size and excessive fluid production suggests significant hormonal imbalance," Dr. Chang theorized. "Consistent with his chronic masturbation history."

Andrew's legs trembled as they continued their methodical examination. Every clinical touch and professional observation pushed him closer to the edge, yet they hadn't given permission for release.

"P-please," he whimpered as Nurse Rodriguez found a particularly sensitive spot. "I need to..."

"Control, Mr. Mitchell," Dr. Palmer reminded him sternly. "This is precisely why you're here for treatment. Nurse Stevens, final measurements please."

The measuring tape wrapped around his straining shaft once more. "Four point four inches length, three point eight inches circumference. No further growth observed despite maximum stimulation."

"Very well," Dr. Palmer sighed. "I believe we can conclude this portion of the examination. Mr. Mitchell's size limitations are clearly structural rather than situational."

The nurses withdrew their hands, leaving Andrew trembling and desperately aroused. His cock bobbed sadly at its modest maximum length, still leaking steadily into the collection cylinder.

"Remarkable fluid production continues," Dr. Chang noted. "Nearly three milliliters now. We should proceed with the stamina assessment while he's in this state."

"Agreed," Dr. Palmer said. "Mr. Mitchell, please approach the examination table. We need to document your control capabilities... or lack thereof."

Andrew stumbled toward the padded table on shaky legs, his minimal endowment leading the way like a leaking compass needle. The medical team followed with their cart of instruments, discussing his various inadequacies in clinical terms that made his face burn and his cock drip even more...

"Face up on the table, Mr. Mitchell," Dr. Palmer directed. "Legs in the stirrups, please."

Andrew climbed onto the padded examination table, his face burning as he placed his feet in the cold metal supports. The position left him completely exposed to the four medical professionals.

"For accurate stamina assessment, we'll be monitoring several metrics," Dr. Chang explained, attaching small sensors to his chest. "Heart rate, blood pressure, muscle tension, and seminal response."

Nurse Stevens approached with what looked like a measuring cylinder attached to a clear tube. "This will collect and measure ejaculatory volume," she explained clinically, fitting the tube over his dripping tip. The cool touch made him twitch.

"Still producing significant precum," Nurse Rodriguez observed, watching the fluid slowly fill the bottom of the cylinder. "Should we note the continuous flow as a separate concern?"

"Indeed," Dr. Palmer agreed. "Though in this case, it's one of his few positive indicators." She made notes on her tablet while Andrew squirmed in embarrassment.

"Beginning baseline stimulation test," Dr. Chang announced, snapping on fresh gloves. "Mr. Mitchell, you are not to ejaculate without express permission. We need to document your control threshold."

Cool latex fingers wrapped around his modest length, making him gasp. The doctor's touch was perfectly clinical, yet somehow more arousing than any of his frequent self-administered sessions.

"Initial response strong," she reported as his hips jerked involuntarily. "Subject displays significant sensitivity."

"Likely due to excessive self-stimulation," Dr. Palmer noted. "The penis has become hypersensitive from constant handling."

Andrew bit his lip as Dr. Chang established a slow, methodical rhythm. His precum production increased, steadily filling the collection tube.

"Five milliliters of pre-ejaculate already," Nurse Stevens announced. "Still flowing consistently."

"Add posterior stimulation," Dr. Palmer directed. "Let's test his full response threshold."

Nurse Rodriguez moved to his exposed rear, her lubricated finger finding his sensitive ring of muscle. Andrew whimpered as she began matching Dr. Chang's rhythm.

"Subject showing signs of approaching climax already," Dr. Chang observed. "Poor stamina indicated."

"P-please," Andrew gasped, his thighs trembling. "I can't... I'm going to..."

"Control, Mr. Mitchell," Dr. Palmer commanded sharply. "This is precisely why you require treatment. Your lack of discipline is concerning."

But the combined stimulation was too much. Despite his best efforts, Andrew felt the familiar tension building. His modest length throbbed in Dr. Chang's skilled grip.

"Imminent ejaculation noted," she reported calmly. "Less than two minutes of stimulation required."

"Stop," Dr. Palmer ordered. All hands immediately withdrew, leaving Andrew gasping and desperate on the brink of release.

"Subject displays significant vasocongestion," Nurse Stevens observed, examining his straining erection. "Though size remains consistently below average even at maximum arousal."

They waited several long minutes while Andrew fought to regain control, his cock twitching sadly in its collection tube as more precum dripped steadily.

"Shall we proceed with the second trial?" Dr. Chang asked once his breathing steadied.

"Yes, but add the vibrating prostate stimulator," Dr. Palmer decided. "We need comprehensive response data."

Andrew moaned helplessly as they began again, this time with the addition of a gently humming device that Nurse Rodriguez carefully inserted. The sensation was overwhelming.

"Time to ejaculation threshold please," Dr. Palmer requested as Dr. Chang resumed her methodical strokes.

"Thirty seconds," Nurse Stevens counted quietly. "Forty-five... one minute..."

Andrew's whole body tensed as he approached the edge again. The clinical observation of his lack of control somehow made it more intense.

"Holding back ejaculation appears to increase precum production," Dr. Chang noted as the collection tube filled further. "Though his stamina remains severely limited."

"P-please let me finish," Andrew begged, sweat beading on his forehead. "I need to..."

"Another forty seconds," Dr. Palmer said firmly. "Demonstrate at least minimal control."

But it was too late. With a strangled cry, Andrew's hips bucked as his orgasm overtook him. His modest length pulsed weakly as he filled the collection cylinder.

"One minute, forty-three seconds," Nurse Stevens reported, documenting his failure. "Subject unable to maintain control despite direct instruction."

"Volume measurement?" Dr. Palmer inquired.

"Three point two milliliters of ejaculate," the nurse replied. "Below average, though combined with pre-ejaculatory fluid, total output is within normal range."

Andrew lay panting and humiliated as they discussed his performance in clinical terms. The prostate stimulator still hummed inside him, quickly making him squirm with renewed arousal.

"Note significantly shortened refractory period," Dr. Chang observed as his penis began to stiffen again. "Consistent with chronic masturbation pattern."

"Indeed," Dr. Palmer agreed. "Mr. Mitchell, your stamina results are concerning but not unexpected given your history. We'll need to implement an intensive control training program."

Fresh precum began dripping into a new collection cylinder as Andrew realized this was only the beginning of his "treatment"...

"You may relax your legs now, Mr. Mitchell, but please remain on the examination table," Dr. Palmer directed while reviewing her tablet. His legs trembled as he lowered them from the stirrups, still completely exposed, his modest member continuing to leak despite his recent release.

The four medical professionals gathered at the foot of the table, discussing his results while he lay there vulnerable and bare. The fluorescent lights felt harsh on his exposed skin.

"Your examination has revealed several critical issues," Dr. Palmer began, her tone clinically professional. "First, your stamina is severely compromised. One minute and forty-three seconds is well below acceptable response control."

"The constant precum production, while impressive in volume, indicates a lack of basic regulation," Dr. Chang added. "Your body has essentially trained itself to maintain continuous arousal."

Nurse Stevens efficiently wiped his still-dripping tip with a cold cloth. "Even now, post-ejaculation, you're producing significant fluid. This indicates zero refractory control."

"The treatment plan will need to be intensive," Dr. Palmer continued, making Andrew squirm under her stern gaze. "Three sessions weekly, minimum. Each session will focus on stamina building and impulse control."

"But first," Dr. Chang interjected, "we need to implement immediate containment measures. Your current state of constant arousal makes normal daily function impossible."

Andrew's face burned as another drop of precum betrayed him, sliding down his shaft. Nurse Rodriguez quickly dabbed it away, her latex glove clinical but still somehow arousing.

"You'll be fitted with a medical chastity device," Dr. Palmer explained. "This will prevent unauthorized stimulation while allowing us to monitor your response patterns. Nurse Stevens will escort you to our fitting room shortly."

"A... a chastity device?" Andrew stammered, his penis twitching at the very idea.

"Yes. Given your size metrics, we'll need one of our smaller models," Dr. Chang noted, making him blush deeper. "The device will track your arousal patterns and prevent the constant manual stimulation you've become dependent on."

"You may put on your shirt and shoes," Dr. Palmer said. "The device fitting requires access to your groin, so pants would be redundant. Nurse Stevens will accompany you to the fitting room."

Andrew sat up shakily, mortified at the idea of walking through the clinic partially clothed. His hands trembled as he buttoned his shirt, which only emphasized his exposed lower half.

"Follow me, Mr. Mitchell," Nurse Stevens said brightly, holding the door open. The corridor beyond seemed endless and very public.

Taking tiny steps to minimize his exposure, Andrew followed the statuesque nurse through the busy hallway. Every click of her heels on the tile floor made him more aware of his nakedness. His shirt tail did little to hide his still-dripping member.

They passed the busy reception area where new patients waited. Andrew caught several widened eyes and suppressed giggles as he shuffled past, his face burning. A group of nurses at their station paused their conversation to watch him pass, whispering behind their hands.

"Quite the leaker, isn't he?" he heard one murmur.
 "So small though..."
 "Another chronic case..."

Nurse Stevens led him to a door marked "Medical Device Fitting." Inside, glass cases displayed various chrome and plastic devices, each looking more intimidating than the last.

"Have a seat on the fitting table," she directed, pulling out a measuring tool. "We'll need to ensure a proper fit. These devices can be quite snug on even our more... generously endowed patients."

Andrew perched on the cold examination table, watching anxiously as she selected several small devices from the display.

"Given your minimal dimensions and continuous fluid production, we'll need something with excellent drainage," she mused, holding different options up to his shrinking member. "Though containment shouldn't be too challenging, size-wise."

A knock at the door made him jump. "How's the fitting going?" Dr. Palmer's voice called. "Any sizing issues?"

"No doctor," Nurse Stevens replied with barely concealed amusement. "I believe our smallest model should suffice..."

"Mr. Mitchell, we simply cannot fit this device while you're erect," Nurse Stevens sighed, her frustration evident as she held the small chrome cage. "Let's try cold compression again."

She pressed an ice pack against his groin, making him gasp. His modest erection wilted slightly, but the moment her latex-covered fingers touched him to check, it sprang back to its full four inches.

"This is becoming ridiculous," she muttered, making notes on her tablet. "Fifteen minutes and we haven't achieved sufficient flaccidity for even basic measurements."

drip... drip... More precum leaked onto the paper covering the examination table. Andrew's face burned as she efficiently wiped him clean again, but even that clinical touch made him throb.

"S-sorry," he stammered. "I'm trying..."

"Clearly not hard enough... or rather, too hard," she quipped, making him blush deeper. "We need you completely soft for proper fitting. The cage must be secure without any possibility of internal expansion."

She tried another ice pack, this time pressing it firmly against his balls as well. Andrew shivered, but his treacherous penis remained stubbornly rigid.

"Perhaps some physical exertion?" she suggested with an edge to her voice. "Twenty jumping jacks, now."

Andrew stood, his erection bobbing embarrassingly as he began jumping. The fluorescent lights made him painfully aware of how exposed he was, shirt tails fluttering around his bare lower half. Nurse Stevens watched with clinical disapproval, her perfect curves visible even through her practical uniform.

"Enough," she commanded after he'd worked up a sweat. But as she reached to check his status, his cock twitched eagerly at her approach. "Still erect. This is becoming absurd."

She pressed the intercom. "Dr. Palmer? We're having significant difficulty achieving flaccidity for device fitting."

"Try the startling technique," came the doctor's reply. "Cabinet three, top shelf."

Nurse Stevens retrieved what looked like a small ruler. Without warning, she sharply smacked the inside of Andrew's thigh, making him yelp. His erection flagged momentarily but quickly recovered as he watched her prepare another strike.

"You're actually enjoying this, aren't you?" she asked incredulously, noticing his increased precum production. "Unbelievable. Your lack of control is even worse than indicated."

SMACK Another sharp strike, this time to his other thigh. Andrew gasped, his cock twitching eagerly.

"Positive response to impact stimulus noted," she dictated to her tablet. "Subject appears incapable of maintaining non-aroused state."

She tried alternating ice packs with sharp smacks for several more minutes, but Andrew's erection persisted. Every movement of her athletic form, every brush of her latex-covered fingers, every stern look just made him harder.

"This is why you need this device," she lectured while preparing another ice pack. "Your body has zero discipline. The slightest female presence and you're leaking all over the place."

"I know," Andrew whimpered as cold compressed his balls again. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry doesn't help me fit this cage," she snapped. Then her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Perhaps we're approaching this wrong. Cabinet five, bottom drawer..."

She retrieved a rubber glove and small jar of lubricant. "Since gentle methods aren't working, we'll try something more... aggressive."

Before Andrew could process her meaning, she had him bent over the examination table. One strong hand pressed between his shoulder blades while the other...

"Ah!" he squeaked as her lubricated finger found his prostate. The touch was clinical and almost rough.

"Standard medical procedure for reducing unwanted erections," she explained professionally while applying firm pressure. "Though most patients don't require such extreme measures."

Andrew squirmed as she worked methodically, her technique purely medical but somehow still arousing. More precum dripped steadily onto the floor.

"Even direct prostate manipulation isn't working," she observed with clear annoyance. "Your conditioning is worse than I thought."

She pressed the intercom again. "Dr. Palmer? Subject showing resistance to all standard flaccidity techniques. Permission to implement protocol 17?"

"Granted," came the reply. "But document everything. This level of arousal persistence is noteworthy."

Nurse Stevens withdrew her finger with a snap of her glove. "Stand up straight, hands at your sides."

She retrieved a new device from a locked cabinet - something that looked medical but ominous. "This is a targeted cold therapy system. It's usually unnecessary, but you've left us no choice."

The device hummed to life as she positioned it around his groin. Suddenly, intense cold enveloped his entire package, making him gasp.

"Hold still," she commanded as he tried to squirm away. "Three minutes minimum. This will achieve flaccidity one way or another."

Andrew whimpered as the cold penetrated deep into his tissues. His persistent erection finally began to fade.

"That's better," Nurse Stevens said with satisfaction. "Though I shouldn't be surprised it took medical-grade cooling to overcome your lack of control."

Finally, after what seemed like hours of discomfort, his penis had shrunk enough for fitting. She quickly began measuring him with calipers.

"Flaccid length two point nine inches," she noted. "We'll need the extra-small ring to prevent any possible slipping."

She worked efficiently now, fitting the chrome rings and cage pieces while his cock remained temporarily cooperative. Even so, he could feel it trying to swell again every time her fingers brushed his skin.

"Stop that," she scolded, noticing his stirring. "Unless you want another session with the cooling system?"

Andrew focused desperately on unsexy thoughts as she completed the fitting. The metal felt cold and constraining around his modest package.

"There," she said finally, clicking a small lock into place. "That should prevent any unauthorized engorgement. Though given your size, containment wasn't particularly challenging."

She made some final adjustments while explaining the rules: "No attempting to stimulate yourself through the device. No unauthorized removal attempts. The lock is electronically monitored. You'll return three times weekly for supervised release and therapy sessions."

Andrew nodded miserably, his now-caged penis already trying to swell against its chrome prison. Nurse Stevens smirked slightly as she noticed his discomfort.

"The device will help track your arousal patterns," she continued. "Though based on today's fitting, I suspect the data will be rather... constant."

She handed him his pants finally. "You can get dressed now. Front desk will schedule your first therapy session. Though given your severe lack of control, I recommend starting as soon as possible."

As Andrew carefully zipped his pants over the unforgiving device, he realized his problems were only beginning…

....................

Did you like this story? Would you read the continuation? Let me know in the comments :)

Kisses!

Val