Originally Posted: 6/22/09
So, by now all of you have seen those commercials on television with the smiling douchebag dressed as a racecar driver or Santa or a bunch of other things while the narrator spouts off quasi-clever euphemisms about how huge his cock is and how much sex he's having. Or the ones for Enzyte where they have people on the street talking about how their lives have changed based on the product ala Real Sex or Taxicab Confessions. Most people just change the channel or ignore this kind of bullshit. People with tiny dicks shell out hundreds of dollars trying anything they can to make a difference in their lives because, let's face it, women are pretty much all whores with gaping vaginas that require King Dong to please them, right?
Me? I'm just stupid. Therefore, when Chris came to me with a plan to try these products and see how they worked for someone with a healthy libido and a penis the size of my own, I agreed.
We tried Extenze first because you can buy them in gas stations. We each took two. Not a god damned thing happened. We even spent time with his sexy friend, and there was no change whatsoever in any facet of my existence from level of arousal to my color-coded scale of penis size (the largest being Code Green, as I will explore later). Now, being an optimist, I tried to give the product the benefit of the doubt and wait a little longer than I expected it to take. I even went so far as to find stimulation in the seedy world of erotic literature. Beyond a little late-night self-gratification (which I'm told is normal among young people) nothing particularly interesting happened.
Then we purchased a product with a name I have already forgotten from Walmart and things got a little more interesting. Now, before I go any further let me assure you that what follows is potentially obscene. Or, at the very least, a little bit inappropriate. I have very little problem with talking about my sex life or my body. My level of modesty is pretty negligible, and despite my constant joking that I've got a penis the size of cell phone antenna I'm pretty comfortable with my situation. So, onto the family jewels.
We took this thing Saturday night. Now, we were drinking and we had a house full of family and friends, so the decision to experiment with something of this nature was perhaps a little irresponsible. However, you'll be happy to know no children were traumatized in the making of this stupidity. The product allegedly works about an hour after taking it. Bullshit. An hour and a half later I was still essentially flaccid, despite the presence of previously mentioned sexy friend. So we took another one. A few more hours went by and I decided it was time for bed.
I awoke at around 1:15 a.m. with a cock the size of Minnesota. This was full-on Code Green a.k.a. Hulk Dick. I mean, I could have beaten a rhino or a clan of Tusken Raiders to death with this thing and still had enough left in me to Sammy Sosa the shit out of a baseball before I killed an Atlantic City hooker with it.
Try as I might, there was nothing much I could do with it. So, I went back to sleep in hopes that it would just work itself out. Every hour from that point until I woke up for work at noon on Sunday I was roused from my slumbers by this monstrosity. So, I ate my breakfast and, hangover raging in my body and erection firmly growing down my leg, I went to work. What followed was probably the worst nine hours of KFC employment in the history of KFC employment. Needless to say, everyone else thought if was fucking hilarious.
Now, by my count, about 48 hours have passed since I took those pills. The arousal has worn off but my head is still pounding. I'm not sure if this is a rare two-day hangover, some residual effect of the product, or a plague I might have contracted from my sister or her friend who were both sick last week. Personally, I hope it fades away by tomorrow. Point is, I haven't felt right since.
I'd like to go on record and say I'm pretty comfortble with myself. I'm ready to go pretty quick and I'm a decent lay, or so I'd prefer to think. Also, I'm not overly concerned with penis size or ability or personal satisfaction. This little experiment, though, opened my eyes to the suffering of people who are concerned about these things. People who spend hours fretting about the length and girth of their junk, their ability to please someone else and so on and so forth are, I think, wasting their time. Why do that to yourself? Why convince yourself that a product will help you be a better lover? It won't. It will cause you to lose valuable sleep, valuable time you could have used recovering from twelve hours of binge-drinking. It will cause you to wonder if that heartburn you've been having for two straight days is actually just a series of minor heart attacks and if your headaches are a sign of cerebral bleeding because, despite all your big talk about how you never get sick, you worry a little bit about dying as a result of your own idiotic tendencies.
Seriously, fellas (and ladies, if this applies) stop worrying so much. If she sleeps with you more than once, it was worthwhile enough to keep it going. If she doesn't, big deal. Sex is great, but it is not something your life should revolve around, despite evidence to the contrary. "The nasty," as they call it, should be fun. It should be a relief to get off, not a chore. Relax, enjoy the ride, have a good time.
I think I'm done with experimenting, though. At least in terms of male enhancement products. I do have two regrets, actually. First, I didn't test-drive that Hulk Dick and see what it could do. Second, that I'm still bat-shit crazy enough to let my eighteen year-old, testosterone driven brother talk me into this nonsense.
Then again, it was fucking huge.
Until next time babydicks and baby mommas,
-S.R.
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