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Charm City Porn Star

Porn Star-Cock cloning

If the Pillsbury Doughboy had a sister, I now know what it feels like to know her in a Biblical sense.

I opened my email the other day to find a request from a fan from Towson, Md., who wanted to send me a kit that I could use to make a vibrating rubber replica of my erection. This wasn’t the first time this request had been asked of me. Several years ago, a major adult-toy company wanted to do the same thing and sell it globally. They even had a name for it: “Kurt Lockwood’s Perfect Cock.” I was just about ready to sign the lucrative contract when they revealed that they wanted to make mine come complete with a copy of my ass that was also fuckable. Now I was OK with God-knows-who doing God-knows-what with my penis replica, but something about selling the chance to sodomize an exact copy of my ass repeatedly all over the world rubbed me the wrong way, so I ultimately turned the offer down.

Flash-forward to last week. After the price was settled upon (the cost of my time plus the cost of the cloning kit itself and shipping), the dick-cloning kit from a popular novelty chain arrived in the mail, and soon I was unwrapping the shipping material like a kid on Christmas. It was funny that this kit—with no breakables—came with packing paper and covered in bubble wrap, which was total overkill for what it was (mustn’t damage the package that clones the package!). On the outside of the box, there was a cartoon featuring a young, scantily clad white couple smiling and winking at each other as the text invited you to “Use Hollywood’s latest cutting-edge technology to immortalize Your Guy just like a Porn Star!”

Just like one, huh? What if you really were one?

What struck me most about the box was the lengths the manufacturers went to in order to infantilize the whole process. In addition to the box cartoon, there was reference after reference—not to the anatomically correct term of “penis”—to the “willy.” Willy? Really?

Once I tore open the box, there was a clear plastic molding tube (sealed at one end) which held all the various mixing powders and whatnot to do the deed. There was also a more detailed and graphic set of instructions. It seemed simple enough. First you stick your hard-on next to the emptied tube and you cut to size. What’s funny here is that the instructions at this point tell you to tape the end you just cut with duct tape but here’s the thing: No duct tape is provided. The manufacturers have just assumed that if you are the type of person who is going to clone your erection, then the chances are you probably have some duct tape. There were other humorous bits too, like an answer to “What if my penis is crooked?” and a suggestion to use a “penis pump/penis ring” because “they help keep your penis hard longer!” This made me think of a quote from an Austin Powers movie, “Swedish-made penis enlargers and me, that kind of thing is my bag, baby!”

Anyway, once you were in the upright and locked position, you poured in the molding mix, waited a couple of minutes (but no more!) and then you inserted “Mr. Happy!” Now you are instructed that this mix MUST be exactly be 98 degrees—they even provide a tiny thermometer (but no duct tape)—to ensure this occurs. The result is that when you actually insert yourself into the goo tube, it’s not entirely unpleasant. Put it this way, if the Pillsbury Doughboy had a sister, I now know what it feels like to know her in a Biblical sense.

Here’s the tough part: Though you can have a partner there to turn you on, or porn, or whatever, you can’t move your penis. And as most guys know, without any physical stimulation, you aren’t going to get maximum girth and length. It’s a catch-22. If you move your penis, the mold will shrink in on itself and you will lose size, but if you don’t move your penis, you will lose size anyway. Oh, the humanity!

After I was pretty sure that the gel of the mold had solidified, I removed myself with ease, which had actually been a bit of a concern (I mean, can you imagine that emergency-room visit?), I then poured in the liquid rubber and inserted the provided vibrator up the base as instructed and then set the whole thing aside to finish overnight like some X-rated science project. The next day, I carefully removed the clone from the mold and was immediately sort of shocked. Though it’s pretty common for male porn stars to have their replica dildos for sale in sex shops, this was a first for me. There was something off about it: It seemed, well, small. I immediately pulled down my pants and excited myself to erection to compare and found that I was right. The dildo was about 85 percent of my girth and length. I don’t know if it was because gravity pulls in the sides of the mold a bit or if during the non-direct stimulation my erection had experienced a bit of, well, shrinkage. It was still big, but more like I figure I’m at like 3 or 4 in the morning after a night of bar hopping. But what detail! You could literally see every single vein, pore, and contour. My fan surely would not be disappointed.

As I packed it for shipping, recycling the same packaging material it had come in, the last note of the instructions caught my eye, it read: Tell a friend!

Consider yourself told.

Write to Kurt at charmcitypornstar@citypaper.com and follow him on twitter @KurtlockwoodXXX.

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