The Big Issue About C0cks
(and some hard facts)
by Beverly Fisher, Slut at Large and Woman of Easy Virtue

"Increase the size of your j0hnson! Are you happy with the size of your c0ck? Size does matter!"

It seems like the email inbox is stuffed full of the promise of big d1cks. There’s so much spam, I have to suppose it actually works – not the miracle size enlargements themselves, but the spam. Somewhere, there are a whole lot of men who actually look at these things, clicking on emails promising them a bigger t0ol. If people weren’t responding, they wouldn’t keep sending them. And it looks like a big business (pun intended).

The spam that really pissed me off was the one stating “size does matter!” Hold on there, I thought, now they’re lying to these poor bastards. I don’t care about size... and I’m betting most of my friends don’t either. I don’t hear women in the ladies restroom whining about “gosh, if only Jack’s l0ve musc1e were larger, everything would be okay,” or babbling in the beauty salon, “our whole relationship could be solved if only Jack had a bigger J0hn Thomas.” No, in those sacred temples of the female, we whine about more pressing things, like how he never notices when we clean the house or do the laundry. Or we don’t even discuss our men at all, and just go straight to discussing really important matters, like shoes.

So when I initially conceived of writing about P-e-Ni_s size, I wanted to explain, reassure, perhaps even gently caress the tender and engorged male egos that swallow this spam. I wanted to prove that women disagree with the “size does matter” statement.

I even went so far as to confirm my “women don’t care” hypothesis with several girlfriends (who are also sluts), through a highly informal, and significantly unscientific email survey. The results showed that, on the whole, women pretty much believe a.) Size does not matter; and b.) You’re not as small as you think; and c.) Shoes really are damned important, and if only men could see that, the world would be a better place.

Okay, I made point “c” up.

But in the course of my research on s@lami size, I discovered that my reassurances, and the opinions of other women (sluts or otherwise), probably won’t matter much. We tell men how we feel about it all the time, and they either don’t, won’t, or can’t believe us. When women say “it’s not the size that matters, it’s what you do with it,” we really are serious. No foolin’. Maybe men think we’re humoring them, trying to make them feel better when, secretly, we’re looking at his six-and-a-half inch wi11ie and thinking, “you poor thing... God definitely pulled you out of the wrong end of the gene pool. I’ll do my best to put up with you anyhow.”

Women do it too

What’s especially nuts about all of this is that women have a similar problem. We think all men want huge breasts. Now, while there certainly are men who have a “huge boobie” fetish, 99.9 percent of the men I’ve asked about breasts (and I’m talking about a significant sample of thousands of men) all agree that they would rather have saggy little real ones to play with, versus big spongy fake-feeling fake-looking knockers. As one gentleman put it to me, “hey, I don’t care how big they are, as long as you let me play with them! They’re breasts! And I get to play with them! Cool!”

But, like their male counterparts in the “larger is better” universe, women don’t, won’t, or can’t believe that men really feel this way. I have several girlfriends saving up right now for that all-important “boob-job.” I’ve tried telling them the truth. Men have tried telling them the truth. It doesn’t matter. Now sure, there are some women out there with a preference for the big weiNerS, just as there are some men out there with a preference for monstrous breasts. But there are also people out there who fantasize about having sex with stuffed animals, or women wearing frilly aprons (no, really. I’m serious). Fetish does not equal majority. Not by a long shot.

So why even bother trying to tell men that pr-ick size really doesn’t matter? Why waste time and energy on the topic, when I could be writing about something really important, like shoes? I don’t know. Maybe because I’m a sucker for a lost cause. Maybe because some of the things I’ve learned about the way some men abuse or even mutilate themselves in the quest for “bigger” horrify me so much, I feel the tale must be told – if only so that I know I’ve tried. Maybe someone, somewhere, will listen.... and recognize that his six-inch schw@ntz really is just fine the way it is. Maybe it’s because I’m a democrat, and, as such, just don’t know when to pack it up and accept defeat.

A growing business

Penile Enlargement (PE) is a big, big business. And it’s growing all the time. I Googled “penis enlargement” and came up with 1,650,000 hits. Do a search for “big penis” and you’ll get more than six million hits. I wouldn’t be surprised if these numbers increase dramatically by the time this essay hits print.

A lot of people are becoming very rich, milking men’s insecurities for every dime they can scrounge. Via the anonymity of the internet, at last this secret fear has come out into the bright light of cyberspace. Men are realizing that they aren’t alone in their fears and feelings of inadequacy, and have found places to talk about it, share success stories, and buy products designed to help increase the size of their PeTers.

They are doing exercises involving stretching, slapping, using weights, pumps, and a variety of other devices. They are paying huge sums of money to learn the “secrets” of how to best do these “exercises.” And then reporting back to their friends on the web boards about how well they’re doing, exercising their d1cks every single day like religion.

Men are also having surgery, much as women do with their breast implants. The scary thing to me about penile enlargement surgery, or phalloplasty, is that the success rate is so low. Yet men try it anyway – sometimes mutilating or damaging their p@ckage in the process.

Traditional phalloplasty for increasing s@usage length involves making an incision at the base of the shlonG and cutting the ligament anchoring it to the pubic bone. So the part of Mr. Happy that is normally a bit inside the body falls forward, and the s@lami looks longer. This is what one of the most famous of all the “big love musc1e men,” John Holmes, did to himself. The problem with slicing that little ligament is that the c0ck is unstable, swinging free, shifting and moving around during intercourse, instead of those nice smooth thrusts some of us, me in particular, love so much. To prevent any shrinkage during healing, patients must often wear weights for several months following the procedure. Also, that little ligament is what keeps the 0ne-eyed MonSter standing upright. Once cut, even fully erect d1cks hang downward.

Wrapping the sausage

E. Douglas Whitehead, M.D., F.A.C.S., is President of the American Academy of Phalloplasty Surgeons, which was established by Dr. Whitehead in the 90s. This Academy, incidentally, is not a part of the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, which was established in 1931. Dr. Whitehead’s website states that there are “several unproven, non-surgical techniques of penile lengthening, using penile weights, penile stretching devices and a vacuum pump (penis pump).”

Dr. Whitehead’s website goes on to say that “The medical community does not recommend these techniques and since no studies have been made it is impossible to tell how effective these techniques are or what the risks might be. Sometimes, overweight men with an increase in fat in their pubic area will notice increased penile length after significant weight loss. There is [sic] no non-surgical techniques that produces permanent penile widening.”

Let’s replay that last bit: “There is no non-surgical techniques that produces permanent penile widening.” Penile widening – which, according to the good doctor, can only be achieved with surgery – has a scary history. A few years back, phalloplasty surgeons would perform a fat transfer, whereby they injected fat (usually from the patient’s own bottom, thighs, or waist) into the pR-ick, in order to make it nice and thick. Problem was, fat is often reabsorbed into the body, and usually not very evenly. So these men would end up with these gnarled, lumpy, misshapen c0cks.

Many phalloplasty surgeons have given up the procedure completely – the failures far outweighed the successes.

Dr. Whitehead, however, has not given up. When it comes to making a thicker skin Flute, Dr. Whitehead is a proponent of a type of surgery he himself invented, using something called Alloderm. He got the idea from observing procedures used on burn victims, who are treated with Alloderm to rebuild severely damaged skin. Alloderm treatment for penile widening involves layering dermis around the Pe-Nis, like rolling up a rug. Dermis, or skin, isn’t reabsorbed back into the body like fat, so the doctor’s procedure avoids the problems inherent in fat transfer.

BUT... Alloderm isn’t a traditional skin graft. It’s purified cadaver dermis. Which is to say, it’s chemically treated, sterilized skin... from a dead guy.

Now listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m not grafting dead guy skin to my body unless forced to. Like if someone throws battery acid in my face, or something. It’s DEAD GUY SKIN. Get serious. What scares me most is that someone may actually be reading this, and thinking, “well, yeah, dead guy skin, pretty gross... but if it works...? Hmm. May have to give that Whitehead guy a call.”

Does size really matter?

In my highly unscientific survey of my friends (two or three were actually not sluts at all, but very nice, normal girls that you could easily take home to mom), we really did agree that size doesn’t matter... too big can actually be painful. Honestly, the vast majority of us agreed that anything larger than seven inches is too damned big. And a b@nana that’s too thick can be very painful, especially for a woman who is of smaller proportions. Additionally, most of us need clitoral stimulation to actually achieve orgasm... something better done with the man’s fingers or tongue. For women, it’s all about how we feel about the gentleman in question. If we’re in love, we’ll overlook anything. D1cks are great, sure, but it’s the person attached to the me@t whistle we’re interested in.

Besides, honestly, if I knew my partner had layers of DEAD GUY SKIN wrapped around his pee-pee, I wouldn’t touch him or the offending member with a million-foot pole, let alone let him put DEAD GUY SKIN into my p-Ussy.

According to a recent study (cited on Clitical.com), involving 800 men of all races and physical descriptions – tall, fat, short, lean – the average c0ck size is 5.5 inches. An 85 percent majority of the men studied averaged between 5-7 inches when erect. Accuracy-wise, this study isn’t perfect, as the men themselves submitted the measurements, rather than being measured in a lab somewhere by a technician with either a serious fetish, or too much time on her hands. It was also clear that flaccid shlong size has little correlation with erect proportions.

It seems to me that, despite the averages, despite women’s reassurances, the men who still are concerned about their l0ve musc1e probably have more self-esteem issues than any real physical problem. It’s about how men measure up to other men, literally and figuratively.

How do you measure up?

Men have the chance to compare their d0rk with others in the locker room – first, at school, as teenagers, and then later, as adult men, at the gym. But even then, only a quick glance is appropriate, because staring can either get you killed, or a hot date you might not want. So the main basis for size comparison is porn. And we all know the male requirements for a job in that industry.

The size of the c0ck is, throughout history, a symbol of power and strength. Many ancient cultures depicted their male deities sporting enormous erect phalluses, symbols of their God-power. For men, weenie size is all about virility and manhood. And because of this, no matter how many sluts say otherwise, men will continue to obsess over their size – even if that size falls well within or even above the “normal” level. It’s not rational, it’s not logical... it’s the animal brain, the still-wild part of men that measures power, strength, and his place in the male pecking order by using his d1ck as a measuring stick.

In a recent discussion on the Clitical website about this very topic, one anonymous member wrote: “All I can say is, having frequented gyms, nudist camps, nudist beaches, swing parties, and four years in the U.S. Army, I can safely say... the men getting the great blow jobs, the deep throat blow jobs, the multiple sex partners are... average and smaller guys. Why? Because it is normal, more of them, and they usually aren’t hung up on size as much as the guy who thinks he is large, and the guy who is worried that he is small.”

I personally, as a professional slut, had to agree with this statement. I have an oral fixation; I love giving blow jobs. And it is far more fun to suck on a smaller dipstick than a larger one... I like to see how far I can take it... and with monster members, the most I can manage is the head and maybe an extra inch or two. I don’t want to scrape with my teeth. I’m well aware how poorly that sort of behavior goes over.

In my personal survey of my slut friends, and in other studies, the vast majority believed that the quality of sex is more important than the quantity. Women relate on a psychological level first, a physical level second. If a man takes the time to listen to a woman, pay attention to her body cues (Is she breathing faster? Making happy little noises? Writhing about like a woman possessed? Waving the flags of all nations?), and really focus on her pleasure first, she’s not going to be thinking of, or even caring about, pe-cker size. The performance, not the pr1ck, is what gives women pleasure.

Love that d1ck!!

I love peN-ises. All of ‘em. They’re absolutely splendid. One would think, given the rather huge number of wi1lies I’ve seen, I would get bored with them. But for some reason they never fail to delight, fascinate, and entertain me.

Every peTer is different. You could forget fingerprinting men and just take d1ck prints instead. The color, the shape, the texture – all different. I actually like the ones with the less-than-perfect circumcisions best. A minor mistake in a circumcision can result in strange, lovely ripples of skin, variations in shaft thickness with little ledges of skin, or even cause a curve or arch in the overall shape of an erection. Every one has a different uretheral opening – some only small circular holes, some slashes, some longer or shorter than others.

Circumcised r0ds all look like naked firemen from the back.

Shl0ngs also make great puppets.

No, really. Take a sharpie marker and draw eyes on the head, using the opening of the urethra as a mouth. It’s fun! I make them talk, saying things like “Hi there! I’m cold! Cover me up with something warm!”

Alright, alright. So maybe I have an obsession with c0cks. But I’m not the only one... men themselves are obsessing too... and for no really good reason. But I doubt it’s going to stop any time soon.

I am reminded of a story a friend of mine told, about her little nephew. He was three years old at the time, and had discovered the joy and wonder that was his little peN-is. He would whip it out and show it to anyone, explain that it was his peN-is, and that anyone was also welcome to touch it if they wanted to. All of this greatly to his mother’s dismay. Now, like any child, when he senses that he can upset his mother with a certain activity, well, he’ll do it more. The capper came on the day they went to a public swimming pool. The child pulled off his swim shorts and went running, bare-ass naked, around the pool, singing at the top of his lungs, “it’s my peN-is, my peN-is, my peN-is!”

My friend, who shared this little story with me, tells of the day she caught her husband admiring himself in the mirror. “I swear,” she said, “It was like he was singing `it’s my peN-is, my peN-is, my peN-is’ in his head.” He probably was.

Maybe men wouldn’t be so obsessed about their J0hn Th0mases if only they’d buy more shoes. I don’t know. Just a thought.

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