I froze in shock and tried to back away. She grabbed my arm in an arthritic withered hand that held me like a steel collar. “My meaning is, I was walking along here and thinking about how all the spark’s gone out of the world, men pasty and flabby and ugly and women short and careless and everyone walking too quickly and no eyes for anyone but themselves, and then here along comes walking a fella out of the times I like to think about, looking like carved copper and with a face that could tempt stone and still polite and humble.”

The woman was obviously even more insane than you’d guess from her decrepit face and trembling age. I tried to twist away but she squeezed harder, squealing, “Nice arms, too. Mm, I would fuck you hard if I were a little younger.” A passing mother looked at me, scandalized, and I tried to indicate that I was an unwilling participant. She screeched on.

“You know, boy, a fella like you doesn’t deserve cruel jokes played on you, and I still swing enough weight in certain circles to have jokes undone. Look me up when you’re dead and you can pay me back. Enjoy life.” Even as I tried to imagine what was going on in her melted brain she let go of me and somehow drifted into the crowd, even though no crowd existed. I was very startled, but it almost immediately became difficult for me to remember what had just happened; only in retrospect has this crucial part of the story become clear. Shaking off what had already acquired the feeling of a strange daydream in my head, I walked on, wrapped up in the certain knowledge of my coming doom.

I went home on the bus and ate a sullen dinner, much to my dad’s dismay who hadn’t talked to me in a week. My silence provoked a heated discussion about my table manners which evolved into a loud slamming argument about my commitment to the family and resulted in my being exiled from the family trip to the amusement park the next day. I stormed up to my room, my younger brother and sister laughing at me hysterically and my mom trying to calm my dad down, and slammed the door. I stripped naked and, as I fell furiously into bed, felt the tiny stub of dick try and fail to flop with my movement. Remembering the incredible sight of Joe’s dick slapping casually back and forth beneath Denise’s ass as he carried her past us in the locker room, I thought, Well, fuck you, life.

I woke up the next day feeling a little better. I would have the house to myself for the day, on account of my punishment from the night before, and at least I could watch some movies or something. Sure I’d have to drop out of the basketball team, but that would just give me a chance to explore new avenues for my talents. Hockey, maybe, where you wore thick layers of clothing and pads and a cup over your groin. And it’s not like I needed basketball for a scholarship; my trust fund alone would pay for any college in the land and let me live like a prince at the same time even if my dad disowned me. Things could be worse.

I could feel by the general cloggedness down south that I had a morning erection, which seemed just terribly cruel considering the circumstances, and as I rolled onto my back I laid with my eyes closed and said, “Listen, universe, I will not give into you being a bitch. So fuck off.” And opened my eyes, ready to face the new day and a new life.

And, as you have no doubt guessed, stared in shock at my sheet hanging an unbelievable distance above my crotch.

After a few frozen seconds passed I ripped the sheet off to expose the most impressive penis I had ever imagined. It throbbed with incredible hardness directly up from my body, standing like some miraculous monument to male sexuality. Not only had it lengthened but also thickened incredibly, and the head looked large enough to crack windows if it got up enough velocity. And I could now feel my legs being held a little further apart by what must be a truly impressive set of gonads to go with this godlike penis. The tan I so scrupulously acquired even on my sad little dick had spread with this change and covered the whole thing. As the first drop of precum ran out of my broad slit and began to make the long, long journey down to the ridge of my head, I let out a scream of joy and jumped out of bed.

I ran to the bathroom, the titanic gyrations of my dick and balls making me want to sing, and grabbed a ruler out of the bathroom drawer. Some swift measurements in front of the mirror, which I could barely stop staring at long enough to work the ruler, confirmed my sight judgments. I was now the proud owner of a rod of flesh which stood twelve and one-quarter inches long and was six and one-half inches in circumference. My balls seemed to hang about four and one-half inches down, and their weight in the hand was truly extraordinary. As I looked up from this examination and saw myself in the mirror, I realized that I was basically a god of sex: my perfect body was now matched with a perfect penis.

Well, aesthetically perfect, at least, combining size and heft with a pleasingly symmetrical arrangement of veins and a hardness so intense that it made my dick feel like a piece of steel and stand straight out from my body, shaming Joe’s thirty-degree fall. But did it work?

I laughed out loud as I realized that I could finally and for the first time masturbate the way all the guys at school talked about it. I grabbed a bottle of hand lotion from my counter and squirted it all over my length. I wrapped one hand around it – yelling with delight as I saw that my fingers barely made the trip around the girth – and, feeling for the first time a hand on my cock and the coolness of lube, breathed a quick prayer that this wouldn’t be the cruelest trick of all and this god-penis wouldn’t work, and let my hand make it’s first long trip down the length.

I mentioned before how masturbation and orgasm had both been stupid shadows with my old genitalia. Well, nothing could be further from the case with the new junk. I screamed and slid to the floor against the wall, my body spasming just from that first stroke. I opened my eyes, gasping, and said faintly, “Oh thank you” before I wrapped my left hand above my right and let loose with a wild two-handed attack on my dick.

The pleasure was literally indescribable. I’ve had the opportunity to see a lot of men and women have sex since then, and I have only encountered two or three who seemed to take as much pleasure out of it as I did. My dick seemed to be hooked up to some sort of amplifier; each touch and caress crashed into my brain like a bomb of pleasure.

Even as I screamed and thrashed around, I dimly remembered one of those awkward joking lunchtime conversations where I had had to pretend I knew how to masturbate normally, when one grinning guy back in eighth grade had said, “Well, but I’m sure we all agree that everything else ain’t got nothing on the old head. The head is my ticket to paradise.” With an incredible effort of will I detached my left hand, raised it to the throbbing untouched immensity of my cockhead, wrapped it around and started a corkscrewing motion.

I think I passed out. When I came to I was still violently stroking my shaft and trying to unscrew my head from the top, and I had never imagined that anything could feel so good. My throat was already raw when finally, after twenty minutes of this, I felt my first true orgasm approaching.

It was like a freight train rumbling up my spine and shutting things down as it went. My muscle groups froze one by one, starting with my toes and working higher, and as they did an increasing height built in my dick and my balls grew tighter and tighter, until finally the rumble hit my brain, my bucking hips froze four inches off the ground, and I blew.

Four, six, nine, twelve shots of cum blew out of my dick: over my head, into my open mouth, onto my chest, until they quieted down and cum just started flowing from my broad slit. And each one accompanied by an earthquake, a killing blow of ecstasy.