Cross-posted from Junkbuzzed…

For those who missed it, this week I am reviewing the masturbatory wonders of the Fleshlight in a 5-post series. Part one went up yesterday – catch it here. (I strongly recommend reading them in order, because reading my crap is a lot like watching HBO’s Carnivale, in that we both suck as exposition, unless said exposition is thrown out there to confuse the viewer/reader even further.) But nonetheless, a quick recap, for those suffering from short-term memory loss:
- I threw a hissy-fit over not getting any free sex-toys
- Always Aroused Girl, the Official Angel-Faerie of Teh Internets, offered me a Fleshlight through Eden Fantasys, provided I would review it
- I did a happy dance

III. SEE WHAT BROWN HAS DONE FOR ME

Like a kid who begins his Countdown to Christmas three months early, I too awaited the arrival of my Fleshlight with what can only be described as savage glee. For this represented several personal (if not mildly pyrrhic) victories for me, which I proudly trumpeted to anyone who would listen to it:

- I am a bold, fresh new voice on the internet, and thus the internet respects me
- AAG has promised not to file a restraining order against me
- I like toys
- I really like free toys
- Not only am I receiving a free sex-toy, but I am continuing to make good on the enduring promise of manhood, which of course is to stick your penis into as many different holes as possible before you die (I think it’s in the Bible)
- The internet really wants me to masturbate and tell them all about it

One week later, Brown came a-knocking at my door. And Brown, for those not in the know, always comes as advertised – brown shirt, brown shorts, brown knee-high socks (you know, it’s sort of a Catholic-tranny kind of thing when you get right down to it), and a big brown box. With my name on it. The topper is a beatific smile, because if you spend your days clad in the color of turd, you may as well let yourself be in on the joke, right?

“Good afternoon!” I said. “What can Brown do for me today?”

“Brown can give you some sex-toys,” responded Brown, handing me the big brown box with my name printed across the front.

Please remember that you should always be kind, courteous, and above all respectful toward Brown. Because if you piss him off, Brown can fuck your shit up but good. And so, a glass of lemonade and a slice of coconut cake later, Brown was on his way, off to shower more of his special brand of goodness upon the rest of the world. Kind of like a benevolent brown Santa.

Again I thanked Brown profusely. Then I locked the door and checked the box to make sure that he hadn’t given it a test-drive.

And then I beheld it.

IV. FIRST IMPRESSIONS

…are important, but overrated – after all, there are far too many ugly people having sex for first impressions to matter that much. Nonetheless I will now share with you my first impressions upon my Ark-like unboxing of the Fleshlight, STU Vagina series (Stamina Training Unit; it sounds so suburban commando, doesn’t it?):

- It looks like a Maglite, minus both the Mag and the Lite.
- In lieu of these things is a silicone-molded vaginal sheath with that real-feel sense of microwaved chicken breast. Which is actually kinda nice.
- It is essentially a giant pussy-thermos. Which is subjunctively different than a thermos full of pussy. Although I wonder, if I were to remove the pussy from the equation, would it serve double-duty as a beverage/soup thermos?
- It’s not really pink, or any other realistic Benetton-hue of vagina. It is in actuality more of a brain-matter grey. Which means that zombies will love the fuck out of this thing.
- As is the case with most silicone products kept in tightly-sealed storage, it smells kind of like old-lady feet wrapped in nori. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; I have been known to succumb on occasion to some good, sturdy MILF (and even the occasional post-MILF).
- Due to its resemblance to a heavy-duty flashlight, I am suddenly struck with the vision of young costumed children on Halloween accidentally taking it out with them for their trick-or-treating. Hilarity, I am sure, ensues.

V. FIELD-TESTS (OF A NON-SEXUAL VARIETY)

I thought it both novel and wise to begin the field-testing phase with several non-sexual experiments. One is a direct throwback to childhood – a fetish of sorts that has haunted my waking dreams for a long 25 years.

One is simply the by-product of can-do man-talk, in that, unless it is really shiny and really expensive, any and everything you own should serve as a multi-tasker of sorts – even if you have to force it into double-duty.

The third and final of the non-sexual field-tests is a process of determining exactly how much like a flashlight a Fleshlight actually appears.

a. THE BOBA FETISH

If you are not a regular Junkbuzzed reader (and if you’re not, you are so due a whipping – go on – get my belt – I said git!), then you already know of my Boba-Fetish for all things Star Wars.

Allow me then way-back your asses to the Supercuts days of Return of the Jedi. After Luke kills Jabba the Hutt’s pet Rancor, a totally pissed-off Jabba orders Luke and Co. taken to the Pit of Carkoon, where they will be tossed into everybody’s favorite vagina dentata, the all-powerful Sarlaac.

Even in 1983, at the not-quite percolated age of 11, I was well aware that George Lucas created the Sarlaac as a representation of Freud’s vagina. And we’re not talking about the new-and-improved Special Edition version of the Sarlaac, where Georgie CGed in a rather PC-like venus flytrap-beak thing into its vaginal cavity, probably as an apology to his then-girlfriend. Because girls in general tend to take it personally when boys depict their va-jay-jays in such fashion; don’t ask me why.

No, this was the old-school Sarlaac, big and pink and slimy, with thick hentai-like tentacles designed to drag kicking and screaming any boy who did not dive in of his own accord. Oh yeah – and it had teeth, too. Big sharp nasty ones.

So of course my first field-test for the Fleshlight would be to insert Boba Fett into its not-so-gaping maw. (After all, I did request the extra-tight model, because either I have a tiny penis, or I have a tendency to stick my penis into inordinately large holes. Like, you know, bathtubs.)

I called up one of my toy-collecting friends and quickly laid out the situation. It didn’t take very long, as each and every Star Wars fan already equates Sarlaac with vagina. (And you wondered why there are so many single men in their mid-late 30s.) A short time later, my friend the M.A.F. arrived, bearing a shopping bag full of toys.

M.A.F. is short for Mini-Action Figure (nobody knows his real name). The M.A.F. is duly monikered thanks to his rather diminutive stature (on his tippy-toes, he is almost 4’9”). And his general appearance – slim, clean-cut, sort of non-descript – suggests that he began life as a GI Joe action figure clad in Bermuda shorts. Unfortunately, as the manufacturers of GI Joe felt they could not adequately market a gay beach-resort trooper, they sent him to the My Little Pony factory, where he was kissed by a fuzzy-bellied Fairy-Tale Bird, and became a real boy.

They kind of fucked up the voice-chip thing though, as he sounds like Tom Waits on helium.

Furthermore, the M.A.F. is a rather ambiguous ‘figure’, sexually speaking. No one can ever recall him going on a date of any sort, even though he spends no less than six hours each day grooming himself.

We just like to say that the M.A.F. hasn’t yet figured out which way his kung-fu grip extends.

The M.A.F. swore that he’d never before seen a Fleshlight – but really, any boy would swear to another boy that they’d never seen such a thing. They’ll cop to all the porn-watching in the world; they’ll cop to owning all sorts of sex-toys to use on their significant (or insignificant) others; they’ll cop to pretty much anything under the sun – but, by and large, a boy will not admit to another boy that he has ever used a male-masturbation device.

Of course I told him the same thing. But, you know, I was totally telling the truth.

Regardless, he brought his toys over, which at the end of the day is all that really matters. This set the scene quite perfectly: two boys, an as-yet unused Fleshlight, a bag of Star Wars toys, a carton of smokes, a digital camera, and the great outdoors – male bonding at its finest.

And thus ensued one of the most surreal fetish photography shoots ever shot….

Ratings:
- as a representation of Freud’s vagina: C (it would’ve been a B+, but the absence of teeth brought down the overall score)
- as a play-set representation of the all-powerful Sarlaac pit: A (the absence of teeth didn’t really matter much, as federal safety regulations would have defanged it anyway)

b. THE PUSSY-THERMOS

It looks like a pussy-thermos. So why not, right?

Granted, it isn’t insulated, nor does it come equipped with any sort of water-sealant. Plus, one might suspect that since it was not expressly designed to hold beverages, it might contain certain chemical agents which humans were not meant to ingest.

But, you know, fuck all that shit. If it looks like a big ol’ Slushie cup, then a big ol’ Slushie cup it shall be.

So I fixed myself a pussy-thermos full of Jim Beam and Coke. Which was pretty sweet in and of itself, as there just aren’t a lot of sex-toys on the market that you can really get your drank on with.

And really, it wasn’t so bad. As a cup, it’s perfectly adequate, as it has no holes or leaks. And the polyurethanes only served to heighten my buzz, as well as provide me with a low-level sense of vertigo. Although the lack of insulation meant that I had to keep adding ice every 20 minutes or so (apparently the manufacturer built in some sort of constant heat-applicator to the thermos, in keeping with the motif of Pussy Is Hot).

The most impressive aspect of it however is in being able to boast to your friends that after you are finished getting your drank on, you are then going to fuck the shit out of the cup.

Now that’s pretty cool.

Ratings:
- thermos: C-
- cup: A
- coolness ratio, a/k/a, drinking from that which you might later fuck: A+

c. CHAMELEON NATURE

The final of these field experiments is perhaps a nod to the late Steve Irwin, who taught us in his short time on earth two very important things:

1. if you want to see some cool shit, poke it a lot
2. if you want to see some cool shit but don’t want to get your face eaten off in the process, learn the art of disguise

As a boy who rather likes having a face, hairy though it may be, I elected for the second option – the Fleshlight as chameleon.

Yeah…this one didn’t turn out so well. Probably because during the two days I left the Fleshlight out on my coffee table, nobody came over. Can we call that a push?

Rating:
- passing as a flashlight: INCOMPLETE

Tomorrow: the Fleshlight undergoes its first sexual field-test (but it’s totally NOT what you’re thinking).