The #1 Male Enhancer
The commercial features Major League Baseball hall of fame pitcher Akira Honda wearing only the helmet American G.I.’s wore storming the beaches of Normandy and an ornate red codpiece that would make Henry the 8th envious. He lies in a bed between two curvy women in bikinis, his very presence leaving them in permanent O face.
“When I turned forty,” Akira says, “I couldn’t get it up.”
The women groan.
“Then I tried Re-Man.”
The women moan.
Akira holds up a pill bottle. A narrator explains the benefits. Blood flow. Endurance. Work outs. That person in your bed; you salt their earth. It’s Simple. Just send a text. PLOW.
If the effects are too strong, please discontinue use.
A bodiless voice, a whiny, suburban, too afraid to try new things, beta voice asks, “Akira? Does it really work?”
The women on his right, in a voice of pure ecstasy, says “I love it,” and begins to move her mouth toward the codpiece.
limp
Part 1: The Historic Mountain Tips
The staff wear tight midriffs that press against their breasts. Benjamin can’t look away when Springtime puts beers down in front of them. He hasn’t got it up in almost two months. He digs her, despite this massive flaw. Digs her rounded ass. All the expressions in her large eyes. The fact she’s twenty years younger than his ex-Denise.
“Boys,” Springtime says.
“Springtime,” they say.
She smiles and heads down the bar to help some other lonely soul decide between Jalapeno Poopers or Mozzarella sticks.
“Belly button ring. I like that,” Aaron says. “Ask her out.”
Benjamin shifts uncomfortably. “I should,” he says.
He and Aaron work for the city. They drive around to city owned properties and fix plumbing, electrical, landscape problems. Unless these problems require too much work. Then they call a contractor. Aaron is twenty-eight and wears hats to hide the blooming hair hole on the top of his head. Benjamin feels a very real sadness when he sees Aaron without a hat. Poor kid is already tubby.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Why don’t you?” Benjamin says.
“Jeez. I don’t know.”
Originally, they’d meet a couple other city guys for lunch at this endless sushi buffet. Or sometimes Taco Bell. Benjamin had thrown Mountain Tips into the mix in an admittedly lazy attempt to get Aaron laid. But then Benjamin got the sickness that turned his stomach into a torn-open grocery bag. Left him flaccid. Some foods still weren’t sitting well.
Sushi is off the menu.
The two men remain silent for some time. Drink their beers. Stare at the tight shirts of the Mountain Tips staff doing mundane restaurant tasks. Glass washing. Lime and lemon slicing. “I think she likes you more than me,” Aaron says.
So Benjamin has to explain himself rather than hear Aaron lose it to self-pity. How, since his stomach thing he can’t get aroused.
“Is it because you’re over forty?”
No. Not because he’s over forty. He was over forty with Denise and all they did was fuck. On again. Off again. Fucking. They’d met at a swinger’s party for Latter-Day-Saints couples desperate to save their marriages. Benjamin had ceased being married after he bought his wife a new pair of boobs and she divorced him. Denise was in a similar boat but couldn’t commit to giving up her husband. How many times had he hid in Denise’s closet when her never-to-be ex showed up unannounced? Hid in the closet while Denise went out to confront the man, Benjamin’s semen running down her leg.
Springtime brings their meals. BBQ bacon burger for Aaron. Cobb salad for Benjamin. “A salad,” Springtime says. “Mixing it up.”
“Trying to eat healthy.”
“Like you need it.”
Aaron elbows Benjamin. Springtime heads into the restaurant to help calm down two heated bikers arguing about blow jobs and the origin of the Federal Reserve.
“I ordered some Re-man off the TV,” Benjamin tells Aaron. “If that works then I’ll ask her out. I’m not asking someone out if I can’t perform.”
“You did? Did you talk to a doctor?”
“No.” After work he’d been watching episodes of American Greed on some true crime channel. The Re-Man ad aired every commercial break. In between ads for My Pillow and Relaxium Sleep. All he had to do was text the word BONE.
They ate. Paid. Tipped decent. Drove to City Hall to check on a clogged toilet. They flush it around ten times and when that doesn’t work, they call a plumber.
After work the discreet unmarked package is waiting for him on his porch. He opens it, takes the pill while eating a yogurt. Before bed he thinks of his ex-wife’s boobs, Springtime’s belly button ring, Denise.
Nothing.
So, he takes another pill and waits for sleep.
Part 2: The End and the Beginning
Two months back one of the city buildings needed new filters. Being unoccupied (this being a Friday after eleven) Benjamin went through the breakroom fridge. It wasn’t uncommon to go on treasure hunts. Jolly Ranchers from candy dishes on desks. Cold pizza and soda from refrigerators. One time a whole unopened bag of jerky off some assholes desk. This building had a freezer packed with a baker’s dozen meats wrapped in unmarked butcher paper.
“Forgot the meat,” Benjamin said.
“Staff picnic this weekend?” Aaron said.
“Maybe?” Benjamin unwrapped one package. Bacon. Unwrapped another. Chorizo. Another is a grey meat unknown to him. He sniffed it. “What do you think this is?”
“Human meat?”
“I’m taking one,” Benjamin said and pulled out a package that contained ham hock. “I don’t have the kids this weekend; I’ll cook up a fancy dinner for Denise. They won’t notice.”
He and Aaron went and changed the filters.
And Benjamin did cook the ham hock that Sunday night. He ate it alone; Denise having cancelled unexpectedly. She’d been acting weird. Benjamin thought she might be back with her husband again.
The ham tasted fine.
He awoke that night and raced to the bathroom before gallons of liquid streamed from his stomach. It would be like that for a whole month. He was so dehydrated at one point his daughter Sarah forced him to let her take him to the hospital where he spent the night being fed liquids and antibiotics. When he got back to mostly himself everything was different. Denise was officially unseparated from her husband, foods with taste didn’t sit so well, and his once fully charged libido was a dead battery.
He takes another pill in the morning with breakfast. The kids are with their mother this week. Sarah, 17, who won’t quit drinking and driving and Mason, 9, who doesn’t play sports or have friends or seem to do anything besides read long fantasy novels featuring mice and badgers. Benjamin misses them when they’re gone. Also, he doesn’t.
Work is uneventful.
In the shower after work Re-Man answers. There he is, after all these weeks, hard and straining. He soaps up his hand and gives a few solid strokes. Then comes that always amazing moment before the contents of his testicles expel themselves into the shower spray.
“Jesus Christ,” Benjamin pants. “I’m back. Jesus Christ.”
He runs dripping to his phone and texts Denise a simple HEY. Not hoping for much but too horny not to try.
HARD
Part 3: Denise
She never texts back. The next day she just shows up.
It had been a long day at work. He’d been horny and edgy. A persistent itchy spot underneath his left shoulder blade kept drawing his hand. The spot is smooth like obsidian and touching it sends a quick spark of pleasure through his body. And then trying to get a box of filters up a ladder onto a city owned roof Benjamin dropped the box on Aaron’s head and almost knocked him off. Benjamin had the box but instead of gripping his fingers into the cardboard he’d been thinking of the re-awakened sensations in his crotch and the box slipped. Aaron cursed about it, of course, said he was fine. He wanted an apology Benjamin was never going to give. It had been awkward the rest of the day.
So before taking a shower Benjamin kicks back on the couch, takes a Re-Man. Drinks the first beer he’s actually enjoyed since his stomach thing.
The doorbell rings and when he opens the door there is Denise. “I love my husband,” she says. “Benjamin. I’m not leaving him.”
Then they make out.
Her hand ringing, constant back and forth, indecisiveness has numbed Benjamin to much of Denise. Yet he wants her as he no longer wants his ex-wife. The sight of her gets him all sweaty. Her hair is a little greyer than the last time he saw her. But her chin is still sharp, her eyes lust the way he lusts.
Benjamin is in her, harder than he’s ever been. Denise has lost herself to the moans, one arm pressing into the bedroom wall, the other gripping his ass. Benjamin goes off. They lay there and pant. She starts rubbing the spot under his shoulder blade.
“What’s this,” she says. “Did you do this at work?”
“Not sure,” he says and closes his eyes against a wave of pleasure. “It feels good.”
“It’s so smooth. I don’t think it’s a scar.” Her fingers move slower. Almost a tickle.
“Don’t,” he says.
“What?” The fingers cease.
“Stop. Don’t stop.”
And slowly she starts again. Rubbing her fingers over this smooth spot. His eyes are shut; he doesn’t see the bemused look on Denise’s face. Orgasm stops his breathing. His body bulges. Something under his shoulder blade bursts forth and warm liquid runs down his back.
“UUUGGGGLLLAAAAAHHHH,” Benjamin says.
Denise throws herself off the bed. Benjamin can only lie there and gasp. She screams and screams. “What?” Benjamin whispers.
Denise keeps screaming.
Seeing her naked like that, crab walking on the floor away from the bed, gets him going again. The sweat that shines above her breasts. The various trails in the flesh of her buttocks he likes to travel with his tongue. His cock hardens.
Both of them.
A new penis hangs from under his shoulder blade. He can feel it bobbing against him. See the yellow goo smeared tip appear from behind his back. “Oh God,” he screams. “Oh God. Denise! Denise!” He turns around so Denise can see his back and the newborn appendage. “Help me!”
Denise stops screaming. Grabs her pants and coat and leaves the rest.
Part 4: Aaron
Aaron rings the doorbell. After a minute passes he uses his fist to knock. After another minute he calls out. “Benjamin.”
Benjamin has called out sick for the last two days. Ignored Aaron’s texts checking in on him. Instead, he spends all his time with his erections. The one under his shoulder blade is only the first. Smooth spots are all over his body now. His skin is the texture of tumescent pulp. New dicks have emerged from his chest and right next to his belly button. No cock is the same. Shaft length. Circumference of the head. Placement of veins and discolorations. All different. After pleasuring himself he thinks on his wasted time as a missionary. Those rare times he masturbated. The fear that his fellow missionaries would catch him touching himself and send him home in shame.
What would those cucks think of him now?
Benjamin opens the door, mostly because he has a hard time reaching the penis on his back. They never stay flaccid long. “Benjamin,” Aaron says. He is wearing his work clothes. “You doing okay?”
Benjamin is pale and sweaty, wrapped in a towels. He steps back and allows Aaron to come in. To Aaron the house smells like a keg of beer spilled in an overheated cargo container. “It’s good to see you, Aaron,” Benjamin says. He turns around and pulls away the towel covering his upper body. Shows Aaron the throbbing monster on his back. “Jerk me off.”
“Gaahh,” Aaron says.
“Please. It’s the Re-Man. It works too well. The effects were too strong. Please. Jerk it off.”
“Oh. Uh. No.”
“Please.”
“I’m not gay,” Aaron squeals, his back now pressed against the door.
“Gay? It’s coming out of my fucking back. Close your eyes and do it. Do it!”
Aaron does. Grabs the shaft and tugs like he’s squeezing a tube of toothpaste. Hot liquid squirts all over his arm. Benjamin makes a sound like someone dying in a restroom stall. Aaron turns and runs. Rips the door open, doesn’t stop until he’s in his car. He drives around the block. Twice. Stops in front of Benjamin’s house. Wipes the white goo onto his work pants. Gets out of his car and goes once more to the door. He’s going to pound on the door again. Tell Benjamin he’s going to call 9-11. Get him an ambulance. He raises his hand and before he begins to pound, hears from inside unthinkable sounds of immense satisfaction.
Aaron flees.
The #1 Male Enhancer
Just another day at Mountain Tips. Springtime spends most of her day calming down a table full of tech bros in super expensive suits who are planning massive layoffs and a table full of UFC hopefuls in super tight shorts who are scarfing down sample platters. Bulking up before they purge to make weight.
These pressures have left both tables in need of shots. Also, many hugs from Springtime. Which she gives. There have already been a few arguments; the tech bros think they know everything about mixed martial arts. The fighters think they know everything about crypto currency.
Springtime does not mind this job, usually. Does not mind the flirting or the peacekeeping. Minds how needy it makes some men and how quickly that need becomes demand. Becomes creepy. This isn’t her whole life. She’s in the National Guard training to command a tank crew.
After another round of hugs the tech bros order Irish car bombs.
“Springtime,” Déjà vu calls from the host station. Followed by the scraping of chairs and gasps. She can see a man walk past the hostess podium. He wears one of those coats’ road crews wear. All neon yellow and reflective material. Unzipped. His lower half is wrapped in a towel. He looks at her and she can see it’s that guy who works for the city. The older one. The cute one.
Benjamin.
Multiple penises are visible inside his coat. One in the middle of his chest. Another on his stomach. He appears to have become some kind of sex porcupine.
He sits at the bar. “Hey Springtime,” he says. “Get me a beer will ya.”
“Benjamin,” she says and takes a step back. She looks to the other girls for help but every one of them is moving away from the bar.
“I know,” he says. “It’s been a long week. A long, weird week.”
“I’m not sure,” she says. She looks away. Doesn’t want to see the dicks twitching. “I’m not sure you can be in here.”
“One beer,” he says. “Please.”
She can feel his eyes on her. Zeroing in on her exposed midriff. Her pierced navel. “Please,” he says again. In a whisper. “I really like you.”
One of the tech bros comes up to the bar. A bigger guy, hair dyed platinum. Has rolled up his sleeves to show off his tattoos. He puts his half empty beer on the bar. Points to Benjamin. His face is red. It takes him a second to get words out. “Is this some kind of joke.”
“No,” Benjamin says. “It’s Re-Man.”
“Well, it’s fucking disgusting.”
“Yeah,” Springtime says. “Benjamin, you need to leave.”
“Maybe,” Benjamin tells the bro, ignoring Springtime. “But it feels fantastic.”
“It does?” His finger begins to hover closer to the dick in the center of Benjamin’s chest. Benjamin takes the man’s beer off the bar. Drinks the remainder.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “I mean I’m covered in hard-ons. How do you think I feel?”
“Good?”
“Goddamn right.”
The UFC fighters have left their table and are now surrounding Benjamin. “What did this,” one of them asks, a skinny guy with spiky hair. He adjusts the crotch of his red shorts before reaching out to pokes the dick on Benjamin’s stomach.
“Re-Man,” Benjamin gasps. “The effects were too strong.”
“Did you discontinue use?”
“I did not.”
The spiky hair guy touches the dick again. It gives a hard twitch and spits glue-white semen all over the bar.
“All right,” Springtime screams, “I’m calling the cops.”
“It really works!” one of the fighters says.
“Great,” Benjamin pants. “It works great. I fucked this woman the other day. She never came so hard. All the dicks freaked her out, but she’ll be back. She’ll be back. After what I did to her, how is her husband going to stack up. He isn’t. And this beta cuck I work with, I got him to give me a hand job. Poor loser couldn’t resist. And when one goes off, they all feel like they’re going off. If you know what I mean.”
The men look at each other and nod excitedly.
“I mean,” Benjamin says, “I don’t see how you all can consider yourselves men with only one penis.”
“I’m serious,” Springtime yells in her command voice. “I’m calling the cops.”
Again, they ignore her. Other male patrons have come up to the bar. All are turned to Benjamin. There is some disgust on their faces. More envy. The bar is starting to look like some kind of horrible, pornographic Last Supper. Tech Bros to the left of Benjamin, UFC fighters to the right.
Springtime shuts her eyes. Thinks about being stuffed inside her tank, the smell of her team rank and ever present, complimenting the gunpowder. Earplugs in her ears. The target, dead ahead.
If Mountain Tips, right here, right now, was the target, she’d give the order. Fire.
“What did you have to do to get this Re-Man,” someone shouts out and then to her, “Sweetheart can I get a beer?”
“It’s easy,” Benjamin answers. “Just send a text. REAVE.”
Many of the men start tapping at their phones. “I bet it’s good for workouts,” one of them says.
Benjamin looks at Springtime. Aware of her again. Winks.