I convinced a man he could prune his own ****.

That if he spliced it just so,
two little pink shafts would sprout in it's place.
Wriggle themselves growing into two separate fully functional phallus.
And I watched him.
As he reluctantly reached for the shears.
And went through the five stages of grieving.

"There's no way this will work.

******* for telling me this secret!

can't I just take a pill to grow a second **** without having to cut this one off?

I don't think I can live without it..."

but just think, I reminded him.
after you do this.
You're gonna have TWO *****.

"I'M GONNA HAVE TWO *****!"

TWO *****.

And with almost no other thought, reasoning or belief.

He closed the shears



He opened his eyes.

His flaccid privilege laying there.

"When does the growing start?"
He asked me, pained.
His big brown eyes swelling.

"It doesn't."

"WHAT?"

"I lied to you, it doesn't grow back."

"It doesn't grow back? Not even one?

"Not one, not two,
no **** for you. I lied."

"Lied?"

"Lied."

it was easy,
to convince him.
Just had to promise he'd have two times the power in the long run.
If he risked it all right now.