Chapter 2

“Can I help you with something, ma’am?” The voice was warm, friendly, and unmistakably male. Tall, young, and handsome, the shop assistant looked like he’d stepped straight out of a college catalog—confident, clean-cut, and toned in all the right places.

“Oh ... thanks. No, I’m just looking for now. Maybe shortly,” Zoe replied, a flicker of embarrassment colouring her cheeks as she drifted through the men’s underwear section. She’d spent the better part of last night, and much of today between patients, lost in a spiral of online searches—underwear for well-hung men. Every click had led to tighter briefs, bigger bulges, and more images of lean, muscled bodies. But no matter how sculpted or well-endowed the models were, none of them quite measured up to Nate. Not even close.

She meandered slowly through the racks, pretending to browse, fingers grazing the odd pair here and there. But uncertainty nagged at her. What exactly would work for someone like Nate? What would offer support for something that big? She wasn’t sure. Still, her curiosity was piqued, and as the last few other shoppers cleared out, leaving only her and the shop assistant, she knew it was time to ask.

“Hi,” she began hesitantly, approaching the counter, her expression half-apologetic, half-amused. “I think I might need some assistance...”

“Absolutely, ma’am. That’s what I’m here for,” he replied with effortless confidence, stepping out from behind the counter. He had that unmistakable student vibe—maybe early twenties, around six-foot-two, with an athletic build and the easy, flirtatious energy of someone who knew he looked good. “What are you looking for?”

“Well ... this is a little awkward,” Zoe said, laughing nervously, eyes darting toward the nearest display. “I’m looking for some men’s underwear. That would ... how can I put this...”

He jumped in helpfully, trying to ease her tension. “It’s okay, ma’am. We get wives in here all the time looking to buy their husbands something a little more appealing.”

“Well, actually ... he’s not—” she began, before quickly rethinking her response. Telling this handsome young stranger that she was shopping for a patient? Not exactly something that would come across well. Better to let him assume.

“Not my husband yet. Perhaps one day...” she said instead, letting the innuendo linger just long enough before moving on. “But really, it’s not about the underwear being sexy. It’s more that we need something ... practical. You see, he has a bit of a problem.”

The assistant cocked his head slightly. “A problem?”

Zoe smiled—confident now, almost enjoying the direction this was taking. “Well, to be more accurate, it’s a large problem. If you catch my drift.”

The young man blinked, then grinned. “Ah.”

“His package,” she said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial murmur, “is significantly more ... substantial than average. So we’re looking for something that’ll keep his, let’s say, ‘jewels’ more secure.”

The words tasted a little wicked on her tongue, and the amused flicker in his eyes told her he enjoyed hearing them just as much as she enjoyed saying them. There was something oddly satisfying in the implication—that she belonged to someone impossibly big. And the way she said it? Like she was proud of it.

“Ahhh, haha, I got ya,” the kid laughed, catching on. “We actually do have a brand that specialises in underwear for gentlemen with ... larger packages.” He delivered the words with a flirtatious smirk, puffing up slightly as if he were one of those ‘gentlemen’ himself. “I actually wear some of these myself,” he added with a cocky confidence as he gestured for Zoe to follow him to a different section.

“Hung,” she read aloud, arching a brow at the bold branding and the photo of a barely-contained crotch stretched tight across the packaging. She couldn’t help but smile. Fitting name.

“They’ve got all kinds,” Brad continued, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Briefs, boxers, Y-fronts—whatever you’re after. Some of them even have a special pouch. You can slide your dick—sorry, your penis—into it and it keeps everything snug, stops it bouncing around or getting in the way.”

“Wow,” Zoe murmured, a touch of genuine intrigue in her voice. “They actually sound ... pretty perfect.”

“Here,” he said, handing her a pack of briefs with the built-in support pouch. “The pouch sizes come in ‘Big,’ ‘Large Package,’ and ‘Mega Hung.’ So just make sure you get the right fit.”

Zoe studied the options, biting her lip as her eyes moved from one size to the next. She had no way of knowing which would be best—not without a measuring tape and a few medical gloves—but one thing was certain: Nate wasn’t a ‘Big’ or even just ‘Large Package.’ He was ... beyond. It was hard to imagine anything short of ‘Mega Hung’ standing a chance of containing him.

“Thanks for your help ... Brad,” she said, glancing down at the name on his badge, her voice a little warmer now. “I’m just not sure how these would fit—or which ones would actually work best.”

Brad smiled with a little too much self-assurance. “I can always try some on for you, if you want an idea of what they look like.”

“Oh—I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” Zoe replied quickly, eyes darting around. “The other customers...”

“The store closes in five minutes,” Brad said with a wink. “Just hang around a little, and I’ll try on a couple for you. That way, you’ll know exactly what you’re getting.”

Zoe hesitated. The truth was, after nearly a full day fantasising about Nate’s monstrous cock, imagining it swelling in tight briefs, examining online photos of every variation of bulge and pouch and fit—well, part of her did want to see something real again. Just not too real.

“Alright then,” she said, her lips curling into a polite, measured smile. “If you’re sure it’s okay. Thank you, Brad.”

Moments later, the changing room door opened with a quiet squeak. “Alright, ma’am—first one’s up: the regular boxers.”

Brad stepped forward, proudly on display in nothing but his chosen pair. He made a show of it, clearly hoping to impress her, strutting with just enough swagger to make it clear this was part striptease, part seduction. Zoe, seated on the bench just outside the changing area, let her eyes roam. His body was, undeniably, athletic. Maybe not quite as statuesque as Nate’s, but well-built—tight chest, solid arms, and a sculpted torso that narrowed into lean, muscular hips. Her eyes moved lower, trailing past his six-pack and down to the boxer shorts.

There wasn’t much of a bulge—at least, not one worth writing home about—but she had to admit the shorts clung nicely to his toned, slightly hairy legs. He looked good. Not intimidating. Not overwhelming. Just ... nice.

“They’re nice,” she said honestly, nodding. “But they seem too baggy for what he needs them for. He’d need more support.”

“Alright, let’s try the briefs,” Brad said, already sounding like he was gearing up for a performance.

“With the pouch?” Zoe asked, her tone neutral but her curiosity piqued.

“Sure,” he replied smoothly, hiding the smug satisfaction curling at the corners of his mouth. He was convinced now—this hot, classy older woman was definitely asking to see his bulge. And he was more than ready to deliver.

He closed the door to the changing room and quickly stripped out of the boxers. His hand immediately went to his cock, tugging on it with practiced discretion, coaxing a little extra length and thickness without letting it go fully hard. Just enough to show off. Then he stepped into the briefs, guiding himself carefully into the specialised pouch like it was a suit of armour meant to enhance his masculinity.

“Ready?” he called, and without waiting, opened the door and strutted forward.

He stopped right in front of Zoe, close enough that she didn’t have to do much work to get a very good look. It was obvious he wanted her to stare. And Zoe? Well, she did.

Brad was objectively attractive. Broad shoulders. Tight core. A body honed from sports or gym selfies—or maybe both. His bulge was considerably more noticeable in the briefs now, the pouch doing exactly what it was designed to do: frame the goods, lift them, shape them into something visually ... bold.

Zoe allowed herself a moment of honest appraisal. He looked good. The bulge was certainly bigger than Barry’s, no contest there. Her husband’s dick barely moved the fabric most days. But even as she observed Brad, her brain kept circling back to Nate—unconsciously measuring this neatly packaged mound against the impossibly thick slab she’d held in her gloved hands just yesterday. And no matter how nicely Brad filled out his briefs, he still fell dramatically short.