Tapinosis (ta-pi-no’-sis): Giving a name to something which diminishes it in importance.
“Teeny Weenie.” That’s what they called me in the showers after gym class. It was true, that’s why it hurt so much. I did have a teeny weenie. It was less than an inch long and as big around as my pinky. It looked like a stubby pencil with a pink eraser. It was pitiful. When it got erect, it didn’t grow longer. It just got a little fatter, like a teeny fire hydrant.
The first time I used it for sex was with my high school girlfriend, Tammy. When I finished, she asked me if we’d done it yet. I told her we had and she started laughing and calling me “Teeny Weenie.” I was devastated and vowed to find a way to make my teeny weenie grow. My first idea was to stretch it.
I glued two of my sister’s cotton balls into the jaws of my father’s pliers. My strategy was to “squeeze and pull” my teeny weenie into a a full blown hot dog—a snappy griller with length and girth capable of doing the job.
My plan failed. The cotton balls came loose and I pinched my teeny weenie as I pulled it with the pliers. I cut it badly and had to go to the Emergency Room. They put a big white bandage on it that bulged in my pants. Now, in the showers they called me “Band Aid Dick.” As soon as it healed, I devised another plan.
I took the cardboard cylinder from a roll of toilet paper, pained it as close as I could to my skin color, and glued a ping pong ball with a pin hole in it to the tip. I filled the tube with clay hollowed out to fit my teeny weenie. This would secure my new “Mega Pecker” so cylinder wouldn’t fall off when I whipped it out.
It was show time!
I put on my father’s overcoat with no clothes on underneath. I positioned myself outside the girl’s restroom at school. A little group of girls came out of the restroom and I opened my coat with a flourish putting my cardboard mega pecker on full display. Unfortunately, my teeny weenie had warmed the clay and caused my mega pecker to slide off. The girls laughed. One of them said, “Oh. It’s Teeny Weenie! Pecker Pervert!”
I was humiliated. I was suspended from school for one year.
I turned to “Doin’ It,” my favorite porn site. It advertised a product called “T-Bone Tower,” a supplement you could take to “make it bigger.” The before and after photos convinced me. The pills were $75.00 for a bottle of 30. I got a part time job washing street signs. In 2 months, I had the $75.00. I put it in an envelope, filled out the order blank, and mailed it to T-Bone Tower.
The pills came in two days. In my desperation I took the whole bottle. It was a mistake. Almost instantly my teeny weenie started to grow—and grow, and grow. By the time it stopped it was three feet long!
I had already turned 18 so I went into the porn movie business. I was known as “Anaconda Man” and I did “constrictor” porn. I had trained my big Anaconda to wrap around women. Wearing a snakeskin condom, it looked like I was squeezing them to death. The squeezing served as foreplay for the main event. The Anaconda “shed” its skin and slithered home. My films filled a perverse niche—and probably made me my own niche in hell.
The effects of T-Bone Tower only last two days. So, I had to down a bottle every-other day to keep my Anaconda going. It was tiresome, but I lived in constant fear of becoming “Teeny Weenie” again, so I didn’t really have a choice.
Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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