Motorized Pussy for Your Needs

Roughly a year ago I became the recipient of e-­mail messages from unknown senders; it started innocently enough. Every few days I would receive a message in my inbox from an “Alexander” or a “Jenna” with a friendly, colloquial subject to the tune of “I haven’t talked to you in forever!” When I opened the e-mails, the body would either be a jumbled rant from what seemed like a schizophrenic, non-native speaker or a painfully out-of-context excerpt from fantasy writing. I dismissed the e-mails as a curious annoyance and promptly deleted them. Over the subsequent months, however, the trickle of unwanted and unwarranted e-mails has evolved into a kinky, insulting barrage.
I know that the e-mails are part of unfocused mass-spamming effort because most do not apply to my demographics or my personal tastes. For example, I receive messages offering to sell me “Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Chanel handbags for $100,” as well as messages colorfully titled “Spread her wide with your new enlarged member!” Anyone who knows me would be aware that I am against the illegal manufacturing and sale of knock-off goods, as well as against vagina — be it spread wide or not.
The senders also do not seem to have an inkling about my age, because I get plenty of messages soliciting Viagra and Cialis (creatively spelled V!agra and C1AAL1S to get through my spam filter). At 21 years old, the last thing that I need is more frequent erections, especially those that can last for up to four hours. These messages soliciting medication to combat erectile dysfunction garner even less interest from me than the “Subject Her to a Punishing Ride,” and “Clean shaven and tight” (well, at least that one is ambiguous). I suppose the only type of e-mails I receive which I, and a little less than half the world’s population, are in the appropriate target demographic for are the ones for penile enlargement.
These e-mails pray on any insecurities the receiver may have about his penis, and if those do not exist, they try their damnedest to create them. Simply based on the subjects of most of these e-mails, I have learned that men should never “settle for anything less than a nine-inch cock.” And if you happen to be the pathetic shmuck with an eight and a half-inch penis (or, god forbid, smaller), all women will reject you and men will laugh at your misfortune when you are not around. As one email’s subject succinctly put it, “Getting penetrated by a small weener gives a women little sensation, so make sure you are large and thick.” Of course, though, in order to properly “Fill her up tightly and deeply,” you have to be, at the very least, nine inches.
After reading literally hundreds of these email headings, I was curious to see the websites they were soliciting. On cheoziz.com, they claim that the average growth of their clients after five months is 3.02 inches and they have a member’s testimonial and impressive photographs to back up that claim. They feature a prominent section that describes the life-altering and damaging psychological effects of having a small penis. However, if you use their all-natural product, “Anxiety, depression and low self-esteem have no chance against a big penis and rockhard erections that last much longer than before. Women will be impressed by the hefty dick that just keeps going and men will eye the bulge in your pants with envy.” Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me. Oh, and of course, “You have nothing to lose, just a lot to gain!” I wish I were making this up ….
On a side note, I have more recently been receiving e-mails soliciting medication to prevent stomach ulcers. I have a sneaking suspicion that they are sent by the same people who argue for the nine-inch minimum.
Being the recipient of all these e-mails is rather embarrassing. When checking my email at school or even in my own apartment, I make the browser window smaller on the computer screen for fear that someone will think I am some sort of small-dicked porn addict with a sweet tooth for Viagra and women’s designer handbags. Something needs to be done.
So what about the motorized pussy, you ask? That email, sadly, I have yet to figure out. The body of the email contained only one sentence: “Do what you’ve always wanted to do.” To be honest, I have never had a thing for mechanical genitalia — call me crazy.
What I do want to do, though, is stop using Webmail and use a service that actually blocks the spam. The time has finally come. I know I am ready to do something drastic because I no longer find titles like today’s “pink pussy smells like heaven” or “nipples like raisins” amusing.