I seem to recall hearing a story about a prince with two penises who spent his whole life looking for a woman with two vaginas with whom he could live happily ever after (trust me, read the post below this and it will make sense) and he never found her and so his spirit still roams the land, but much smaller than it was in real life, copulating with people’s noses and that’s why we have snot.
It’s stupid, but I could have sworn we learned about it in my folklore class in college and yet the internet let me down.
But I did stumble onto a body-modification site and, good sweet Jesus, I would return to Christianity if I could purge the sight of the things those men have done to their penises out of my head.
I don’t consider myself a prude and yet, yet, I have found a line I cannot cross nor support a loved-one in the crossing of and cutting yourself a cooter-like entrance on the bottom of your penis so that your loved-one can lick your urethra or cutting your penis in two or just cutting half of it off is that line. Pierce away! Tattoo away! Not for me, but more power to you. But hacking away at yourself?
Nope.
That’s where I have to part company with the body modifiers.
Tiny Cat Pants 
Gah!
So much for dinner.
Joe
Aaah. Ow. Ouch.
I… ow. See. I could get behind someone deciding to have a psuedo-cooter put in under their penis for the fun of it, if it were just a psuedo-cooter. (Though one wonders what has to give way for it to fit…) It would be weird, but I could understand that. It was the followup “so your loved one can lick your urethra” that did it for me.
*winces*
…. I was going to pit my google-fu against your story and see if I could come up with anything, but, er… this seems like a sufficient cautionary tale. Not to mention my being at work, in a position where the boss-of-the-whole-agency looks directly over my shoulder and onto my computer screen. I somehow doubt he’d approve.
Well, here I am working on a gate….wait! I hear my daughter calling me.
Me: yes, dear?
her: whats a urethra?
Me: (Not hearing her right because I’m way out back) What?
Her: Whats a urethra?
Me: Um, what are you reading?
Her: Tiny cat Pants
Me: Oh, um, she was the Queen of Soul, sweetheart.
Her: frowns.
I really love how you push that envelope. Its so….cute.
So, you’re saying that I should teach your daughter how to use dictionary.com the next time I’m over there so that she doesn’t bother you with simple questions?
Or you’re saying that you find “the membranous tube that extends from the urinary bladder to the exterior and that in the male conveys semen as well as urine” to be so scandalous you can’t bear to have your daughter know that such a thing exists?
It’s okay for her to know what a penis is, what a cooter is, shoot, even what copulation is, but the urethra? No, that’s too much! I’ve gone too far!
Listen, she’s at the age where you can tell her to not read me, she can rebel against you by reading me, but since she’ll be pretending like she doesn’t read me and you’ll be pretending like she doesn’t read me, you won’t be faced with these difficult questions.
See?
I should really be a family therapist.
Her: Whats a urethra?
Me: Um, what are you reading?
Her: Tiny cat Pants
Me: Oh, um, she was the Queen of Soul, sweetheart.
lolololololol!!!! That is awesome. I was really pissed off about something that just happened, and I just read that and feel much better now.
Mack, you are the king of quick. (…and you have quick comebacks, as well!). hee!