By Johnny Hazzard

Picture it – 2005, a hot summer day in the San Fernando Valley. I showed up at an enormous factory and was promised a tour after the deed was done. They asked me if I needed Viagra and I refused – so confident in my ability and unaware of what was to come. I thought this would be carried out in some sort of special room with flat screen TVs playing the porn of my choice – along with candlelight and plush pillows. Instead, I was led into what can only be described as a storeroom with a gurney, an Ikea room divider, and lots of fluorescent lighting. This was not what I had expected, not in a million years. I had at least thought there would be something stimulating showing on the monitors, and I never expected that the guys involved in this “casting call” would not speak any English and would not be gay. This is so hot – and it gets so much hotter...

The door opened in front of me and the ringleader of a little gang of frightened Mexican men made a poor attempt at introductions before throwing me a hospital gown. I responded by saying that it didn’t seem necessary, given the circumstances of my little visit. He explained kindly that it was not for me, but for them! Great. Because I was so comfortable before... I ducked around the room divider and prayed that it would all work out.

“Ready?” someone asked from behind the pressed wood panel.

“Ready.” I replied, half-heartedly and quite terrified.

I thought “ready” meant I was ready to get this party started. But after three minutes they began shouting and I realized that "getting started" wasn't what they had meant. “Ready” meant the party was already in full swing, but I was not – and nobody had bothered to tell me that this little production was operating on a very tight schedule and according to a strict set of rules.

You see, the mixture of magic goo that they use is only good for about 3 minutes. After the zenith of activation is over, it must all be thrown out if the casting is unsuccessful. Plus, I needed to stay really hard for about a minute while the plaster was setting up, in order to ensure an accurate casting. This was beginning to scare me. I had no idea how I was going to get through it. Not only was I fishing for stimulation in the deepest recesses of my mind, but I also had less than 3 minutes to do it. And I had to hope to God it would be hot enough to keep my pecker at full attention while the mold was setting up.

The first two attempts didn't go so well. I was able to get it up, but then had to race around from the corner and hop onto the gurney. Then they had to stick a cone with a huge rubber seal around the base over my dick and press down very hard to create a vacuum. Once that was done, another dude poured the very, very cold dough over my very, very overworked – and very, very nervous – schlong. The 3rd or 4th try was the last. It had either worked or else they had just given up. I wasn't sure which, since I had been focused on staying hard and retreating to that sexy place in my head.

In retrospect, it was actually one of the most difficult, memorable, and rewarding experiences I've had in this business.

Once we were done I got my tour, as promised. As we were walking into the showroom, Ma Hazzard called and asked me quite nonchalantly if I had “gotten my dick done” yet. I said yes and then began to describe the room I was in and all the surreal rubber orifices that were staring back at me. She wanted to know if they had any vibrators. I was lost at this point, but I knew we had a true expert on hand – so I thought it best to let my guide field Ma Hazzard's questions. He giggled as I handed him the phone and he then began darting around the room and pulling things down from walls, out of baskets, and off hooks as he tried to keep up with Ma's questions. And all of this while laughing and chatting as though he was talking to his best girlfriend. He finally hung up, walked back, and said, “She is soooooo cool” as he handed me the phone. I know Ma Hazzard ended up getting a lot of shit – and I think one of the vibrators was even on a key ring! Leave it to Ma.
This story originally appeared on Johnny Hazzard's blog, Hazzard Ahead. For more about Johnny, check out Hazzard Central.

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