Date: Tue, 6 Apr 2004 10:15:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Josh Dugan
Subject: Three Penises, by Josh Dugan

For the most part, nothing is too surprising anymore because they can say
almost anything on the air or in print. At some point it became okay to say
the word "penis," so it's come into common usage, which is just fine.

But it was a surprise to see, there in the rack of supermarket magazines,
the upscale fitness magazine for men. Usually decked out on the cover with
a handsome shirtless man with a next-door-neighbor smile and a body to make
sailors swoon, the magazine's teasers generally promise better abs, less
fat, bigger muscles, better sex, whatever.

This time, there was the attractive, muscled, smiling neighbor-type, his
lean abs shining, pulling his little jogging shorts down to reveal three
towering, gigantic penises, all in full arousal. "Grow Three Penises!"
shouted the teaser. And there they were, each one enviable in itself, all
three, each complete with its own large, low-hanging scrotum, veined and
fully engorged shaft that swelled and tapered way up to a fully filled,
rounded and tumescent head. I suppose as a matter of decency they didn't
show any precum on the three penis heads; that would be porn.

But there they were, the middle penis just a little higher than its
flanking brothers, but all three huge, proud and so very much a threesome.
The cover model's smile was the typical modest smile of the steady
achiever, radiating friendliness and encouragement. "You Can Do It!"  said
the smaller banner under the "Grow Three Penises!" teaser.

Inside, past the innumerable ads, regular features and other stories, the
actual story carried its handsome burden of exercise photos showing the gym
routines and the special exercises that would develop the owner's original
penis into a huge outcropping of three giant penises. There were warnings
against supplements because of unknown side-effects and future health
hazards, there was a major side bar on the tantric tradition of the three
penises and the karmic meaning of each one, but I couldn't really get into
that as much as the magazine's usual retinue of simply-staged photo
sequences of its hunky college-boy models doing their three-penis
exercises.

Another side bar compared the progress of three different fitness models,
whose shirtless good looks and muscular bodies followed slightly different
lines based on their height and varying ethnicity. Sure enough, each of
them ended up with an enormous complement of penises, all three of which
seemed inclined to remain at full arousal.

I liked the one picture which showed the handsome cover model having an
outdoor waterhose fight with someone else off-camera. His handsome face was
soaked in a dripping smile as a heavy stream of water came in from
off-camera, hitting him in his muscular pecs. Somehow the stream of water
had dislodged his running shorts, halfway dropping them down his lifter's
legs, and there against the backdrop of his glistening abs were his three
enormous male organs, the three penises fully erect and barely flexible
even as he was obviously ducking and playfully in motion as he shot his
hose's stream at his unseen playmate.

I realized that my heart was pounding and the sweat from my hands was
curling the pages, so I bought the magazine, laying it cover-side down on
the checkout counter. It was the last one they had.