A victim's story:
I never thought I’d say this, but, hey, maybe this penis extension thing has gone on too long. I mean, take my case. Two years ago I was carrying around a six-incher and I was pretty content. My girl Rosie was a little contemptuous at times, and I was used to getting pitying looks from girls in the street, but… well, anyway, when I read an e-mail about this great deal for making it longer, I jumped at the chance. Two inches in a couple of weeks! Who could quarrel with the price of that? Rosie was delighted with it, and I was on top of the world.
For three months or so, anyway. Till I caught Rosie screwing around with my best friend Bert. Bert’s kind of spotty, and he’s only got one eye, so I knew it wasn’t his looks that had attracted her. We had a quiet talk about it, and Bert told me he’d discovered another treatment that took him up to ten inches. Ten inches! It seemed like a lot at the time. Naturally I didn’t blame Rosie – what girl could resist a temptation like that? There was nothing for it but to sign up for the treatment myself.
Sure, it worked, but having a ten-incher banging against your leg all day is kind of distracting. It also makes it pretty obvious when you’re having a moment, if you know what I mean. I had to throw out my Versace slacks and buy some baggy cargo pants instead. Not that it stopped me from drawing the ladies. They were queuing outside my door for a while there. Then things started to slacken off, and sure enough one day Bert came back from the steam baths with some bad news. Ten inches was so last year. Nothing less than a foot, Bert said.
Well, I found another treatment, even though it was getting a little expensive, and it finished up at thirteen inches and a quarter. I can’t wear shorts any more, or move faster than a slow walk, but it’s worth it to see the look on Rosie’s face. Trouble is, I can’t get close to her. Even when I’m close to her, if you know what I mean. And I’m getting pretty red and sore from trying to lift up my desk every time a female client walks in. What’s more, it’s only been three weeks, and already I’m hearing stories about guys who have got, like, fifteen or twenty.
What I say is, enough is enough. The treatments are great, and the ladies love it, but let’s leave it there, guys. While we can still walk. Please?
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