From the first time I saw what appeared to be a canned mushroom hanging down from between the legs of my best friend as a child, I was intrigued. My own crotchal region looked nothing like that, and when I asked my mother, she explained clinically that boys had penises and girls had vaginas. Hm, I thought to myself. So it’s not a second butt. Okay, then.
The Difference Between Boys And Girls
I’m pretty sure that she gave me a more detailed explanation about the differences between boys and girls and where babies came from, my mother never being someone to mince words, I’m sure I knew all of the right words and terms and everything as soon as I asked. Later, through schoolyard talk, I learned the slang terms my mom never taught me and then I learned how to combine them into even more hilarious terms for maximum hilarity.
As I grew older, this trick turned into a staple of mine and was highly appreciated especially by my dude friends who were impressed that a girl could talk like that. From them, I’d pick up more terms and file them away for future use, just like a friendly neighborhood garbage picker, carefully filching and cobbling. From them, too, I learned that they were highly jealous of we girls. Specifically, of our sweater kittens. You know, our boobs?
Stay Home And Play With Yourself?
According to most of them, if they were blessed with a pair of chesticles, they would never leave the house. Instead, they would lounge about all day, playing with their breasts and occasionally admiring them in the mirror. Inspired by their vehemence, I tried this one day, only to be bored by about minute two. It seemed that no matter how much effort I put into it, I just wasn’t going to be as entertained by my breasticles as my male friends were. Which, I suppose, made sense, considering I’d had them since they’d developed.
A Penis For A Day
A penis, on the other hand, I told my guys, now if I had one of those for a day, WOW, the things I would do with it! They seemed to think that I was joking, as though no one would actually want a penis, but no, I wasn’t kidding. I didn’t want to be a man, I just wanted to have a penis for twenty-four hours or so. A week tops. You know, a detachable penis, like that King Missile song.
Intrigued, they asked me what the hell I wanted to do with a dick.
The Mushroom Print
First, I told them that I wanted to smack someone in the face with it. Give them a real Mushroom Print. Not in like a hostile way, but, you know, pivot my hips and hit someone with my flaccid wang. Because that just seems like something that everyone with a penis should do at some point or another. They laughed and agreed.
Pee In The Snow
Then, I explained, I would need to drink a bunch of crappy beer so that I could write my name in pee in the snow. “Becky” would suffice, it wouldn’t have to be “Rebecca” and obviously cursive would work better so as not to interrupt the stream, which I knew would hurt. But I wanted to see my name steaming in the snow, in big, loopy, pee-made letters. Always been bitter that I couldn’t do it myself without involving a cup or a squirt gun or someone else’s member.
After I took photographic evidence, I would then find the nearest tall building and whip it out to pee on it. Not because I had to pee, really, just because I could. And really, after years of having to find a dark corner, or a toilet or somewhere discrete, being able to finally pull it out through a hole in my pants and let ‘er rip without peeing all over myself, well, that brings a tear to my eye. Then I would find a homeless guy taking a leak to have a sword fight with. Because obviously.
The Floating Penis
Then I would need to find a bath tub and take a bath with the dual purpose of watching my brand-new member float while washing away wino pee. Because there is nothing not hilarious about a floating penis. The guys seemed to think that I was being mean about this, but I assured them that I genuinely thought that a penis, bobbing merrily in the water was pretty much full of The Awesome. Because it is.
I Would Play Dress Up With My Penis
Clean from my bath, I would now find the most ridiculous attire to dress my dick in. Perhaps a whimsical rooster getup. Or maybe a turkey. Possibly even a dinosaur. Because nothing says “I want to have sex with you” like a penis dressed like a dinosaur. Perhaps I would put it in a box, just so I could sing in a falsetto, “I put my dick in a box, OOOOH!” After I pull my dick from the box, I think would be the perfect time to engage it in a shadow puppet show where I teach my penis how to dance. Preferably to Madonna’s “Like A Prayer.” Why that song? I dunno. I like it and really why not? It’s a dancing penis, after all. It has no dignity.
Time To Scratch My Balls
The novelty of this would wear off quickly, I’m sure, and the delicate skin would no doubt chafe from the many costume changes, so I’m imagining this would be the perfect time for me to sit back and have a good ball bag itch. Because while I don’t exactly know the sort of ecstasy that it brings, I’m imaging that it has to be somehow close to heaven. That, or there’s some magnetic pull there. I don’t know, but I intend to find out.
I’ll probably, you know, have to have The Sex with a cadre of hot girls and boys (I’d be equal opportunity with my penis, after all) just to see what ejaculating feels like and then, I told my friends, I’ll happily give back my tubular appendage back to wherever it came from because I like being a girl. They snickered, and asked me if I was SURE that I didn’t stay at home and play with my boobs all day long.
Crestfallen when I said no, they simply shook their head, disappointed. Now, I think I finally understood why.
What would you do if you had a day to switch sexes?
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