It takes Elroy a few days to crunch the data, but when he finally finishes, he says he has some good news.

"I think we can add two, maybe three inches of length to your penis, without surgery," he says. "With any luck, we should also add proportional girth, because the only thing worse than a needle-dick is a pencil-dick."

At the mention of surgery, I look around Elroy's lab for an operating table, but all I see are his monkeys, Colonel Mustard and Rita. It looks like the Skittles have added an inch to Colonel Mustard's waist, and for a moment, I wonder if Elroy's plan is to fatten up my dick with candy? But that thought doesn't last long because I can't quite get the idea of surgery out of my head.

"Are you even qualified to perform surgery?" I ask.

"Qualified, yes. Licensed, no."

Just then Rita shrieks, and a terrible thought crosses my mind.

"Elroy, you're not performing surgery on these animals, are you?"

"Of course not," he says.

"Oh, that's a relief."

"I don't know nearly enough about their physiology to perform surgery," he adds. "My expertise is limited to humans."

That part isn't a relief. In fact, it's terrifying.

"You wouldn't consider a surgical option, even if it means a bigger penis?"

I hadn't considered a surgical option mostly because Elroy isn't a surgeon. But now that we're talking about slicing and dicing my wiener, I find myself crossing my legs and resting my hands over my junk.

"It's just a hypothetical," Elroy says.

"Oh."

A wave of relief washes over me, but I keep my legs crossed and my hands over my junk, just in case.

"I guess I... Well, I don't think I'd do the surgery."

"No? Not even if you knew it would work?"

"I don't know," I say. "It sounds painful."

"It's very painful."

"And there would be scars," I say.

"Chicks dig scars."

"Not on your penis," I say.

"How do you know?"

"I guess I don't."

"So what's the objection to surgery?" Elroy presses.

"I don't know... I guess it just seems a little extreme."

"Extreme. Fascinating."

Elroy makes some notes on his tablet. Then he asks, "So as much as you want a bigger penis, there are limits to how far you're willing to go to get it?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Meaning that if surgery were the only option, you'd just have to learn to live with a small dick?"

"Yeah, is that so bad?"

"Not at all," Elroy says. "Like I said the first time we met, there's no judgment from me. This is purely scientific. But I find it fascinating that, on the one hand, you say the size of your penis determines your happiness, but on the other hand, you've set a hard limit what you'd be willing to do to change your situation."

"I said the size of my penis determines my happiness?"

Elroy holds up the tablet and says, "In so many words you did. Peter, before we proceed I need you to understand two things."

"What's that?"

"First, your penis is smaller than average."

"I already understand that."

"But it's important to quantify what we're talking about," Elroy says. "After compiling a meta analysis that combined more than one hundred separate studies looking at penis size, I estimate that your penis is in the twenty-fifth percentile."

"That means seventy-five percent of all men have bigger dongs than me?"

"Correct. But it also means, twenty-four percent of men have smaller dongs than you."

"That's not very comforting."

"Be that as it may, the point is that your penis is small, but not necessarily, the smallest penis in the room."

"I guess that depends on how many dicks there are in the room."

"True. But remember, there are one thousand seven hundred and sixty-two male students at John Wayne High School."

"So?"

"So four hundred and forty point five boys are likely to have smaller dicks than you."

"That doesn't seem to have stopped them from laughing at me, or sharing memes of my tiny dick."

"No, that's true," Elroy says. "In fact, it's a good guess that the reason they mock you is because they're insecure about themselves. That motive, by the way, likely holds true for many of the boys at school, regardless of penis size."

"What about the girls?"

"They're insecure too."

"But they don't have dicks."

"No, of course not. But you don't need a penis to be insecure, Peter. In fact, all you really need is a body."

"Yeah right."

"It's true. And that brings me to my second point. While you're below average in terms of size, you top the charts in every measure of mental health."

"I don't feel mentally healthy," I say.

"You're not. When I said top the charts, I meant you have issues."

"Oh."

"You're depressed. You're neurotic. You're obsessed with your penis. And you demonstrate a wide range of disorders."

"You really know how to cheer a guy up."

"Actually, I don't know how to do that, but I'm hoping that my work with Rita and Colonel Mustard will someday shed light on that challenge."

I look over at the monkeys who are pelting each other with Skittles.

"In the meantime," Elroy continues, "I think it's safe to say that a bigger penis will cheer you up."

"That's what you got out of all that data?"

"Yes."

"Elroy, don't take this the wrong way, but I think science is overrated. I mean, I told you from the outset that a bigger penis would make me happy. You didn't need a study to figure that out."

Elroy smiles. Then he walks over to a mini fridge in the corner and removes a beaker that contains a thick, green liquid.

"What is that?" I ask.

"I call it Chub Potion Number Nine."

"And it'll make my dick bigger?"

Elroy nods. 

"What's in it?"

"The recipe is a secret, but I can tell you that the ingredients include kale, garlic, rhino horn."

"Rhino horn?"

"Yes, we're quick to dismiss Chinese medicine here in the West, but the they've been doing amazing things with rhino horn for centuries."

"And it's legal."

"It's a grey area."

"What else is in it?"

"Vitamins. Minerals. Testosterone."

"Where did you get testosterone?"

"Better not to ask," Elroy says. "In fact, it's probably best if we don't talk about the other ingredients. But rest assured, Chub Potion Number Nine is totally safe."

"How do you know?"

"Lab tests. Plus, Colonel Mustard drinks it on the regular."

"And it worked?"

"Show him, Colonel Mustard."

Just then, Colonel Mustard reaches to the top of the cage and hangs there, dick out. His monkey-dick looks regular to me, but I don't have a basis for comparison. Still, the fact that Rita covers her eyes seems like a positive sign. Plus, whatever stuff went into Chub Potion Number Nine didn't seem to hurt Colonel Mustard, so I guess it's safe enough."

Elroy hands me the beaker. I smell it, and immediately recoil because it smells like used gym socks and stale farts. 

"It's better if you drink it all down in one gulp," Elroy says.

I hold my nose and down the Chub Potion Number Nine. It tastes worse than it smells, and somehow I manage not to gag. A second later, Elroy hands me a bottle of water and bag of Skittles to kill the flavor in my mouth.

"So how long before I see results?"

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks!?"

"Is there a rush, Peter? You don't have a hot date or something?"

"Actually, I do."

"With who?"

"Audrey."

"Audrey."

Elroy looks concerned, and for a moment I worry that he likes her too.

"She's not your girlfriend, is she? She didn't mention anything. And honestly, she asked me out."

"No, it's not that, Peter. I'm actually gay, so no worries there."

"Oh... then what is it?"

"Peter, there's something you should know about Audrey. It happened before you moved here."

"What is it?"

"There were a lot of..."

"What?"

"Dick pics."

"Dick pics?"

"She collects dick pics. She has almost every boy in school. That's why she was expelled."

"What a school," I say. "They expelled her for receiving dick pics, but nobody cares that the entire school keeps sending around my dick pic."

"Yeah, that's not what I'm worried about."

"What are you worried about?"

"Well, Audrey is great. I mean, she's really cool. And she knows a ton about art and French cinema, so we get along great, because it's hard to find someone who knows anything about culture in this town."

"But?"

"But the rumor is... Well, I don't know how to tell you this, Peter."

"I think you just tell me."

"True enough," Elroy sighs. "The rumor is that the reason she collected all those dick pics is that she's a size-queen."

I feel a knot tighten in my stomach, and I'm pretty sure it's not the Chub Potion Number Nine.

"A size-queen," I say.

"Yeah," Elroy says. "She likes big dicks. Really big dicks. Gigantor-dongs."

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