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“Gimme a double L,” I screamed. “Gimme an N and throw in an O,” I screamed punctuated with a big pelvic thrust. “There ya go!”“Oh goody,” chirped the cheerleaders excitedly. “Welcome aboard!”I was taken aback. “Did you not understand what I just spelled out?” I asked incredulously.“I’m not really good with numbers and stuff,” chirped one of them.“It’s not numbers ... aren’t you in college?” I sputtered.“Duh ... yeah,” she chirped. “It’s awesome!”“Don’t you have to like ... read and stuff?” I asked.“No,” she said, shaking her pom-poms. “I just have to cheer!”“But how are you gonna ... I mean after you’re done cheering how will you make a living?”“You are SOOO dumb!” she smirked. “That’s why I’m glad you joined us. We don’t have to make a living. We just have to marry a football player. Then we put up with them for a few years, divorce them and take half of their money. There’s an art to it. You must time the divorce for when they’re at the height of their career. That way you get more. At his biggest he was stiff, but even then he just sat there in John's pants. The arms and legs got more and more skillful at doing exactly what John wanted, working together as a team. Penis just flopped around a little inside John's pants. A few times a day, right hand pointed him just before John let the pee out through him. Every day or two in the bath right hand brushed over him quickly with some soap and a rinse.If a hand was mad it could hit something, if a foot was mad it could stomp. But what could a penis do? Nothing! He wished he was dead. But he couldn't even have a decent fantasy of killing himself -- he was just way too incompetent.Then things started to change.All five of them had gradually gotten bigger over the years, but now penis had a growth spurt. He got hard more often. Hair grew down at his base.One morning penis realized when we woke up that he was kind of sticky around the end. John sent right hand to investigate."Oh, yuck, what is that! Did you have an.
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