PETA Killed My Penis

A few months ago, PETA released this information about how turning to veganism is turning men into veritable sex gods.  This quote really caught my attention:

For years, women have been open to the physical, emotional, and karmic benefits of veganism. But now, more and more men are discovering the perks of a plant-based diet. More specifically, a dramatic increase in their wang power and sexual stamina.

Naturally, I was intrigued by their claim of “increased wang power”.  I already possess a powerful wang, but the prospect of using it to subjugate entire kingdoms is too intriguing for me to ignore.  I’ll never have to reply to penis enlargement spam ever again, which is a shame because I’ve met some very friendly salesmen over the years that often send me .zip files.  Those files make my computer to do funny things.  But nevertheless, in the name of progress I will give veganism a try.  Here is a diary so far of my progress:

Day 1

I woke up with a massive craving for bacon sandwiches.  Out of instinct, I reached for the emergency supply of pork scratchings I keep by the bed, but then I remembered that pork is a kind of meat too.  This not-purchasing-dead-animals-to-feast-on-their-flesh lark is actually a lot more difficult than it sounds, so I’ve decided that I must avoid all temptation. 

I started by piling all of my meat on my front door step and inviting people to take it away for free.  A man from the local McDonalds came and stuffed it all into a container marked “Big Mac Meat”.  When I pointed out that I’d accidentally thrown some old magazines and cat litter into the pile, he simply shrugged and continued to gather up the goods.

So now I live in a meat free house!  This evening, the meat sweats started, leaving me feverish and shaking like a crack addict doing aerobics in an earthquake.  I tried to calm my nerves by eating a floret of raw broccoli, which was so underwhelming I just had to watch a documentary on wallpaper pasting techniques to liven things up.  No progress in the pants department yet.

Day 3

I’m trying to take my mind off meat by wallpapering my house.  I finished it off yesterday, but still didn’t feel any better, so I started again this morning.  I noticed that after a fresh bowl of steamed cauliflower water that I was sporting the biggest erection I’ve ever had.  I’m not sure if this was the effect of my new vegan diet, or the new roll of Hollyoaks wallpaper I’m going to put up in my youngest son’s room later.  Perhaps we might be seeing some progress.

Day 4

I was going to have some cornflakes and milk for breakfast, but then I remembered that vegans can’t consume dairy products.  I mean, what’s so wrong with dairy?  I could understand if it came from somewhere hideous, like the mammary glands of hoofed livestock, but it doesn’t and as such, it’s delicious.  Anyway, I decided to have muddy puddle water on my cereal instead.  I would have opted for tap water, but at this point I was looking for something a little more exotic to spice things up.

In terms of sexual prowess, I still haven’t managed to get rid of the hard on I got last night from moving a chest of drawers and accidentally holding it too close to my crotch.  I think it’s safe to say that the diet is working, but I feel rather light headed and dizzy all the time.  Not to mention that my constant trouser bulge makes me look like a hatstand for midgets.

Day 6

The little bastard just won’t stand down.  After a three day stiffy, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve done irreparable damage to my penis.  I mean, once the erection subsides, will it have stretched so much that I’ll have excess skin, like when fat people lose a lot of weight all at once?  I don’t want a flaccid penis that looks like a pug trapped inside a deflated parachute.

There have been some strange irregularities too.  I’ve been trying to get the thing to subside by pouring ice cubes shaped like the queen on my crotch, and injecting a local anaesthetic, but I swear that my penis looked at me.  I swear to God and all of his holy homies, my sexual organ peered upwards and studied my face.  Is this a side effect of becoming powerful, or am I going crazy?  There’s only one way to find out, and that is to continue the experiment.

Day 7

I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I’ve been hearing voices today.  Today, after a delicious plateful of pea-skin sandwiches, I heard a low mumbling coming from within the confines of my trousers.  I swore I heard a voice saying something like “feed me”.  To check I wasn’t going nuts, I pulled down my pants in front of an open window just as a school bus went past.  I didn’t manage to locate the source of the voice, but a policeman has visited and kindly offered to board up my windows if I insist on shuffling around naked during the school run.

Day 8

I wasn’t going mad after all!  Today, whilst I was preparing a scrumptious lunch of potatoes on potatoes, I heard the voice again.  I tried to dismiss it, but then I heard a zipping noise coming from between my legs.  I dropped my potato peeler in horror as I watched my flies slowly unzip themselves.  My first thought was that I was being sexually assaulted by a randy ghost, but then I remembered that my uncle was still alive.  That did little to reassure me as I looked on in revulsion as my own penis emerged from its cradle, gazed up at me like a veiny Cyclops, and said “feed me, godammit!”

“Who are you?” I stammered with a mixture of abject terror, and irritation that my own anatomy was making demands on my already limited diet.

“Oh, that’s real nice!  I’ve been hanging around this joint for 25 years, getting put into places that Victorian explorers would deem to be ‘a bit farfetched’, and you act like you don’t even know who I am?”

In my insecurity, I began to feel around for the potato peeler whilst keeping eye contact with my penile assailant, just in case this confrontation resorted to violence.

“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, fool!” stated my schlong “using that fucking peeler will only be hurting yourself.  Remember the time you put me in the VCR?  It’ll be like that, only there’ll be two motherfuckers screaming this time!”

I dropped the peeler.  This seemed to please my parasitic penis.

“Good choice, bitch!  Now lower me onto those ‘taters boy!”

More out of surprise than anything, I did as I was told.  What happened next will disgust those of you with penises, those of you without penises, and all those in between.  My penis literally ate a whole potato.  For a moment, I thought I was watching a nature documentary in which a snake swallows a bird egg that’s twice its own size.  Once it had finished, it smacked its lips and turned to address me once more.

“Good work, son.  Now, there’s gonna be some changes around here...”

Day 10

My life is a living hell.  My penis has been making demands of me for the last couple of days, getting me to do chores at its behest.  So far, I’ve had to burn all of my underwear, construct a strange hammock for my testicles out of a pair of swimmer’s goggles, and I had to drive to the garage and fill up several jiffy cans full of petrol.  I’m not sure what he wants with these things, but I’m not sure I want to find out. 

I tried to rebel against his tyrannical regime earlier by going onto the front garden, and trying to pull him off repeatedly.  I did this for several minutes and all that happened is that he was sick on me, and that policeman appeared again.  I asked the policeman to use his gun to shoot off my captor, but he said it looked like I’d already “shot a load”, and gave me a £1000 fine.

At the moment, he’s sleeping while I type this, as our struggle earlier apparently made him tired.  It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up, so I’m typing as quickly as possible.  Men of the world, I implore you, eat as much meat as you can.  Let the transfats of dead animals slowly move you towards a blissful state of impotency.  Most men already have no control over their penis, so you’re only one step away from the waking nightmare I inhabit.  Don’t let yourself become a slave to your penis!