It’s beach season, the time of year when the most intimate details of a man’s personal life are dragged bouncing and flopping into public view. There is no better time than now to remind everyone of a very important fact that I’ve just made up:
There is no such thing as a monster dong.
Or rather, every man has a monster dong. The very idea of a “monster dong” is ludicrous. Who gets to decide the length at which a penis becomes monster-sized? Is there a secret cabal of women with measuring tapes and scales who decide what amount of cock volume is required to fill their cavernous wombs?
When the topic of penis size comes up, as a man you should feel free to describe your cock as monstrous, no matter what its actual size. Anyone who says otherwise is not interested in promoting healthy male body image but is just trying to maintain an increasingly unnatural and harmful standard of penile length.
When you’re in the urinal, stand back far away like the old guys who don’t give a shit about anything anymore. And when you hit the beach, break out that thong speedo, the one that makes it look like you’re flossing your pale, scraggly-haired, pimple-covered ass cheeks while you strut in the sand. And sport that bulge proudly no matter how underwhelming it is. Don’t worry about length. Two, three, four inches—who cares? When women laugh and point at the bee sting in your speedo, you look them in the eye and say, “What? You’ve never seen a monster dong before?”
They can laugh and have their opinions. People will always have their opinions, just like they’ll always have stupid eyes and stupid brains they use to draw those stupid opinions. But guess what? Yours is the only opinion that matters.
We are all Sean Michaels. We are all Shane Diesel. We all have pain-inducing, pleasure-delivering pussy-pulverizers.
Today you have a monster dong! (Oh—and every girl has a “bikini body,” too.)