There are skinny dicks. There are average dicks. And then… there are fat dicks. And let me tell you something: fat dicks are not just dicks. They are events. They arrive like natural disasters. You don’t meet a fat dick, you survive it.
Do you know what it feels like when you first see one? Your brain goes through the five stages of grief in real time.
- Denial – “That’s not going in me. That’s a violation of the Geneva Convention.”
- Anger – “Who the fuck allowed this to exist???”
- Bargaining – “Okay, maybe if I angle just right—”
- Depression – “I’m about to die.”
- Acceptance – “Split me like firewood, daddy.”
A fat dick is a paradox. It’s horrifying and holy. It’s like staring into the Ark of the Covenant except instead of melting your face, it’s rearranging your intestines. You don’t slide onto it — you climb it. Step by trembling step, like scaling Everest, but instead of frostbite, you get your insides permanently adjusted like a sofa that’s been moved too many times.
The first push? Unholy. It feels like someone is trying to fit a car tire through a keyhole. Your body screams “NO,” your soul screams “YES,” and somehow you end up sounding like a dying kazoo. Then it’s deeper. Wider. Splitting you open like the Red Sea except Moses is a veiny bastard with a smug grin. And you’re praying, not to God, but to whoever the hell invented lube.
And when it’s in? Oh, baby. That fullness. That stretch. That obscene, toe-curling, life-ruining fullness that makes every other dick you’ve ever taken feel like a fucking USB plug rattling around in an empty port. You don’t just feel it — you become it. Your lungs, your heart, your ancestors three generations back are suddenly aware that you are hosting a fat dick, and they all clap politely in horrified admiration.
But here’s the kicker: the aftermath. You don’t just walk away from a fat dick. No. You stagger like a survivor. You sit down and feel it still there. You cough and wonder if it knocked something loose in your ribcage. The bruises inside you are writing a tragic poem, and your hips whisper: “Never again.” But your brain? Your brain is already googling when you can do it again.
Because fat dicks ruin you. They reset your standards. After one of those chonky destroyers, a normal dick feels like stirring soup with a cocktail stick. No shade, no disrespect — but once you’ve been reupholstered by a fat one, everything else is background noise.
So here’s my ode, my hymn, my desperate love song: Bless the fat dicks. The girthy, terrifying, doorframe-breaking fat dicks. The ones that make you cry and laugh and see God all in one thrust. Bless them, and damn them, because they’ve ruined us all forever.
BUT...
Here’s the thing no one tells you about HAVING a fat dick: it’s not just an organ. It’s a lifestyle choice. It’s like owning a great dane — everyone gawks, people ask questions, and you can’t take it anywhere without causing a scene.
Fat dick ownership is a responsibility. You can’t just whip it out like some average joystick. No, no. You reveal it. You unveil it like a Renaissance statue at a museum gala. People gasp. Someone clutches pearls. The national anthem starts playing faintly in the distance.
And then comes the look. Oh, you know the look. The wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights, “what the FUCK am I supposed to do with that?” look. That’s when you know you’re holding not a penis but a religious artifact. They’re not staring at you — they’re staring at destiny.
But let’s get real about logistics, shall we?
- Condoms? More like balloons you have to wrestle onto it like fitting a sweater onto a pit bull.
- Blowjobs? Oh, you sweet summer child. Watching someone try to deepthroat a fat dick is like watching a python attempt to eat a beach ball: impressive, terrifying, and you have to check they don’t die mid-performance.
- Casual quickies? Forget it. Nothing is “quick” about this. This is a project. This is a “clear your schedule, we’ll need water breaks and maybe snacks” situation.
And yet. AND YET. There is no greater pleasure than watching someone’s face as they finally take it. That exact moment when disbelief melts into feral lust, when their whole body adjusts around you like a glove on a goddamn sledgehammer. That’s when you ascend. That’s when your soul exits your body and claps for itself in the astral plane.
But oh, the power. Having a fat dick is like owning the Death Star. You don’t always use it to blow up planets, but just knowing you can makes you strut a little different. People sense it. The swagger isn’t in your walk; it’s in your hips, that unspoken hum of “I could dismantle your spine if I wanted to.”
Of course, there’s a curse too. The curse of ruining people. They come for a good time, they leave re-evaluating their life choices, unable to go back to standard-issue hardware. You are the ruinous monarch of girth. The destructor. The ruiner of holes and the redecorator of souls.
Do you know what aftercare looks like when you own a fat dick? It’s not cuddles. It’s helping someone relearn how to walk, like a proud coach teaching Bambi to use its legs. It’s fluffing pillows for their poor battered ass while they look at you like you’re both their hero and their war crime.
So yeah. Having a fat dick isn’t easy. It’s a responsibility, a curse, a divine gift, a comedy routine, and a felony in three states. But would I trade it? Never. Not for anything. Not even for a smaller, “easier” life. And to make it even easier, HERE IS MY HANDY SURVIVAL GUIDE! BRACE YOUR EYES, CHILDREN!
Section 1: Safety Procedures
Stretching is Mandatory - Your partner is not a microwave burrito. You cannot just jam it in and expect success. Warm-ups are crucial. We’re talking foreplay, lube, negotiation, a signed treaty, and possibly yoga.
Use of Lube
Standard lube: “We’ll see how this goes.”
Extra-thick lube: “God help us all.”
Coconut oil: “We’re about to summon a deity.”
Safe Words
Always establish a safe word before insertion. Popular choices:
“Mercy.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Oh god it’s in my lungs.”
Section 2: Positioning and Angles
Fat dicks don’t go everywhere. Some holes are dead ends, like parking a monster truck in a bike rack.
- Missionary: Romantic, intimate, also a good chance for someone to have a religious awakening.
- Doggy style: Ideal for physics experiments. May require helmets.
- Cowgirl: Works only if your partner has thighs forged in the fires of Mount Doom. Otherwise, they topple like Jenga.
Pro Tip: Bring a carpenter’s protractor. Angles matter when you’re wielding the girth hammer of God.
Section 3: The Insertion Process
Think of it as space docking, but with crying.
- Stage 1: The Press. The tip arrives. You laugh nervously. “That’s not going in me.” Oh, sweet summer child.
- Stage 2: The Push. Suddenly it’s halfway in and you’re auditioning for the role of Banshee in an Irish folklore documentary.
- Stage 3: The Full Dock. You black out briefly. When you awake, you’ve seen the face of God. He winked.
Section 4: During the Act
What to Expect:
- Gasps, moans, possible demonic possession.
- A sound leaving your body that’s somewhere between a kazoo and a death rattle.
- Utter betrayal of your brain as it goes from “This is too much” to “More, please” in under 30 seconds.
Pro Tips: Communicate. Yelling “JESUS, FUCK, SLOW DOWN” counts as communication.
Don’t be afraid to cry. It’s part of the rite.
Section 5: Aftercare
Hydration: Both parties should drink water, Gatorade, or possibly a Capri Sun if you really want to feel like a champ.
Soothing Balm: Aloe vera isn’t just for sunburns. Enough said.
Emotional Support: Sometimes people cry afterwards. Not because they’re sad, but because they just got soul rearranged.
Section 6: Side Effects
Common side effects of encountering a fat dick may include:
- Limping.
- Staring into the distance like a war veteran.
- Excessive texting: “U up?”
- Sudden inability to enjoy anything smaller than a Pringles can.
Rare but serious side effects:
- Exorcisms.
- Telepathic visions.
- Lease termination (walls are thin).
Section 7: Community Resources
If you or someone you love has experienced a fat dick, please contact:
- FDAS (Fat Dick Appreciation Society) – weekly support groups, free donuts.
- Hotline: 1-800-THICC – trained operators standing by to say “Damn, girl” in soothing tones.
- Wikipedia – because you WILL want to fact-check if that was medically possible.
