When Phil won the euro millions lottery, he thought he would never have to worry again. Worry seemed to be his default state of mind lately. He and his wife had always both worked, and they had no children, but they never quite seemed to crack the big time - they had holidays and cars and a nice house, but there just never seemed to be quite enough money. He constantly worried about being able to afford things, he worried about keeping his job, which seemed to get harder by the week, with no extra pay, he worried about his wife's job - he just worried all the time. Then he won €61,000,000 in the lottery.
But, strangely, the worry didn't stop right away. First he worried about how to invest it. Then he and his wife argued about how to spend it, and he worried that the money was ruining their relationship. Pretty soon, she divorced him, though his worried lawyer made sure that she only got €10 million of his money. Then he bought a magnificent villa estate on the island of Menorca, in the Balearics, with its own private beach, pool & stables, although he worried for a time over which one to buy. He worried about the alterations he wanted to make, the décor he would choose, the cars he wanted; everything, in fact. Then one miraculous day, he woke up, in his new home, with the exact furnishings he wanted, with his Ferrari, Bentley and Jeep in the garage, his money safely invested, (and earning a simply ludicrous income of nearly €5 million a year,) and discovered that he had absolutely nothing to worry about. This was a strange feeling, and one he had not had for nearly fifteen years, since he got married at the age of twenty. He tried worrying about what to have for breakfast, but discovered he was perfectly happy with coffee and a toasted bagel, so that didn't last.
This uncommon state of affairs lasted several days, and with no worries to occupy it, his imagination suddenly took hold, free from fifteen years of mental bondage, and he began daydreaming about how he might spend his time, now he was completely free to do as he wished. To his surprise, his daydreams lingered constantly on sex. Sex had never played a big part in his relationship with his wife: it was one of the few things he never actually worried about, being, he thought, largely indifferent to it. Now, suddenly, it consumed almost his every waking moment. After a few days of this, he decided he had to do something about it. He took the next morning's ferry to Ibiza, booked in to a five-star hotel, and with the nodding, winking connivance of the hotel's concierge, acquired himself a very expensive, but dazzlingly gorgeous call-girl.
After a minimum of polite conversation in the hotel bar, he and Giselle, his new "friend," retired to his hotel room. Giselle disappeared in to the bathroom, reappearing just moments later, wearing remarkably sheer, flesh-coloured stockings, of the hold-up type, with elasticised frilly lace around the tops. Nothing else, just the stockings and a smile. She was almost six feet tall, with a model's looks, and a perfectly proportioned 38-28-34 body. Unusually for Mediterranean girls, she had light brown hair, which fell in gently undulating waves halfway down her back, and she had amazing soft, downy, almost blonde hair covering her pubes, from which Phil sensed a tremendously arousing musk emanating. As her golden-olive tanned skin shimmered in the afternoon light, Phil started to hurriedly rip off his shirt and trousers, somewhat to Giselle's amusement. Giselle, not wishing to offend, struggled to contain her further amusement, as Phil's final garment, a pair of rather unflattering Y-fronts was shed, revealing his erection. Phil's manhood wasn't very big, about 8 inches long, but rather thin and weedy, in contrast to the rest of him, which had always run to rather stocky proportions. Phil, never having been with anyone but his wife, was oblivious to Giselle's concerns and swept her up roughly, on to the king-sized bed. With a minimum of fuss, he drew her magnificent, stocking-clad legs apart, breathing in the delicious aroma from her pussy. While his eyes devoured her superb, firm breasts, still shapely, even lying down, he easily entered her, and with a few short thrusts, he came, to the accompaniment of a huge sigh of breath, like a departing steam engine.
Giselle was a professional in every sense of the word, accomplished at making every lover, however inept, feel like a sexual god in her company, but even she was lost for words at this display. After a few moments, she asked, "Phil... er... did you, ah, enjoy this?"
Phil, who was still trying to regain control of his breathing, said nothing.
"Only, well, I'm not sure what you are used to, but.... It was very quick!"
With a puzzled look, Phil said, "I was exited!" After a short pause, "How long do your customers normally take?"
"Well, of course it varies, some men can reach climax in a few minutes, some men like to linger over it for longer." Another pause; "I've never had a guy come in seconds, like that though!"
Phil began to get the first inklings that his relative inexperience was such that his sexual prowess might be almost non-existent.
Reading his face, Giselle said, "Oh Phil, I'm so sorry, I've hurt your feelings!" "You mustn't worry, you can get help you know, I can recommend a fantastic doctor, who can work miracles."
At the mention of that dreaded word, 'worry,' Phil's heart skipped a beat. In his new world of personal freedom, he was determined never to worry again. Within a minute, he was dressed again and, two minutes after that, he was striding purposefully out of the hotel heading for the clinic whose address Giselle had just given him.
*
Chapter 2
Phil was slightly surprised when he arrived at Dr. Lazlo's clinic, to find that he seemed to be expected. The receptionist who had met him at the door explained that she'd been called by Miss Giselle to say he was on his way. He was immediately ushered into Dr. Lazlo's consulting room. He quickly explained that he had found himself sexually inadequate with Miss Giselle, who had recommended the clinic. Could Dr. Lazlo do anything to help? Dr. Lazlo smiled as he began explaining how the clinic operated. They would begin with minor surgery, using liposuction to remove any excess fat on Phil's body - some of the tissue thus recovered would be used in a procedure to enhance Phil's penis. Whilst he was under the anaesthetic, Phil would be given a cocktail of drugs, which would make him extremely susceptible to autosuggestion or hypnosis. During the rehabilitation period after the operation, which could be up to ten weeks, hypnosis would be used to help train Phil to be a better lover, as well as to make sure he completed a gruelling regime of physical fitness training, including using steroids, so that he would have the body of an Adonis by the time he left the clinic. During his hypnotic trances he would receive comprehensive instruction in sexual techniques, including practical sessions with some of Miss Giselle's colleagues, who worked for the clinic from time to time. Since he would be under hypnosis the whole time, he would remember none of this at the end of his rehabilitation period, except for the fact that he would be a master at lovemaking. Some additional drugs would be supplied to him, to ensure that he had no difficulty making those important first sexual conquests once he left the clinic. All of this could be provided for the modest sum of €500,000.
Phil, needless to say, was enthralled by the idea, and immediately produced his chequebook - all he said was, "how soon can we start?"
Phil woke up with a start - he was a little stiff and achy, as one might be after a very long, deep sleep. He urgently needed to pee. The room he was in, though tastefully furnished, was all in white and looked like an up-market hospital room. He wasn't quite sure where he was, though it seemed vaguely familiar, and a door to the right of the TV opposite the bed looked as though it might lead to a bathroom. He lurched out of bed and staggered in to the bathroom, before positioning himself in front of the toilet. His dick was in his hand - he could feel it there - but it felt strange somehow. There was a mirror on the wall by the toilet and he blinked into it, momentarily startled by what he saw. Looking back at him was a superbly muscled and bronzed version of himself, holding a dick, which was nearly 8 inches long and at least 3 inches around, even flaccid! The urge to pee re-asserted itself, but after finishing, and shaking off a few drips, he found himself marvelling once again, at the vision in the mirror. He took hold of his dick in his right hand, and gently cupped his balls in his left, rolling them around a little as he did. No doubt about it, this dick and this body were definitely his. Slowly he remembered his visit to the clinic and he realised where he must be. At the same time, with the attention and fondling, his dick began to swell. As he watched in the mirror, he grew to almost 11 inches in length and at least 4 inches circumference, ramrod hard, like a steel bar. He was hung like Adonis, too!
At that moment, the bathroom door was pushed open, and a pretty young nurse walked in, causing Phil's erection to grow even more - he felt as though he might burst!
