Just another feel-good rabbit penis story

I, for one, was more than thrilled to learn about a groundbreaking scientific discovery in the area of “renewed HARE growth”—specifically, the partial removal and then substantial enlargement of rabbit penises at a North Carolina university (or, as I've now come to know it, the Land Where Animals Take One for the Team.)

I’m also convinced I’ve missed my vocational calling. I’d just love to carry on this end of a conversation:

“So, what do you do? Oh, an accountant; that sounds fun. What do I do? Oh, heh, heh, nothing special. See that rabbit over there? No, no, he’s not floating. Nope, that’s no pedestal. Look closer…”

A moment of patience, a warm smile, and then, “How YOU doin’!”

It seems rabbit-pecker experts have been successful in removing a substantial section of junk from a number of rabbits (none of whom, I would bet, were volunteers) and then, after doing a few rounds of laboratory sleight of hand, reattaching bigger, stronger, supercharged bunny-dicks on the suddenly oh-so-confident test animals. No participants were available for interviews, but most were, I am sure, forgiving of their forced participation.

I wasn’t at all enthusiastic about what this discovery meant for these footloose skank-hos of the animal kingdom—they’ll still be a menace to my vegetable garden, even if they’re dragging fur-wrapped English cucumbers across the lawn—but the human implications are enough to make me sit up and clap my paws.

Scientists hope to transfer this learning to the area of human penile enlargement—of course. Otherwise, why bother even telling us? Just consider the possibilities.

You’re a young man of average appearance, hopelessly lost amid a sea of hotties in a dance club. You finally work up the nerve to approach an attractive gal, who turns away sharply at your approach. Timidly, you tap her on the shoulder and, when she turns, you break the ice.

“Hi there. My name is Jeff.”

“So?”

Another turn. Another tap.

“So, I don’t suppose you’d like me to buy you a drink?"

"No."

"Then I don't suppose you'd like to see my genetically enhanced and freakishly oversized superphallus, would you?”

She flips up her smallest finger, wiggles it and grunts, “It’s probably like this.”

Whereupon, by way of retort, you simply unzip and, with a quick flip of the wrist, smack both the self-righteous look off her face and the drinks off three nearby tables. Zipping back up, you retreat to a quiet corner and wait for your newfound popularity to come to you.

No word as yet when I’ll be the first human volunteer but, when I am, you’ll know. Oh yes, you WILL know.

NOTE: Not all future stories on this blog will involve animal penises; well, not directly, anyway.