Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Nighclubber Chow Kah visits bomoh for manhood enlargement
[Pixs of models for illustration purpose only]
Ang Chow Kah parked his car outside a wooden house in Datuk Keramat Village. He had gotten the address from his drinking-buddy Hussein. He stepped out of the jalopy and walked to the rusty gate. Hanging from the gate was a wooden signboard with the painted words “Bomoh Siam.” Siamese Sorcerer. Pots of aloe vera resembling crocodile’s tongues, diffenbachia displaying white streaky patterns, alocasia looking like sting-rays, cycad palm brandishing pinnate leaves and pointtsetia flourishing red and green leaves lined the paved pathway to the house.
“Master Apichart! Master Apichart!” he called.
A fair-skinned busty girl of about eighteen (pix below) came out, walked up to the gate and asked in Malay language, “Do you have an appointment with my father?” She had big, bright eyes and thick lips.
Chow Kah replied in the same language. “Yes.”
The bomoh’s daughter opened the lock to unlatch the gate for Chow Kah to enter and led him inside the living room. Dark furniture with carved motifs of fleecing clouds, catnips and stylized flowers stood facing a TV. “Please take a seat,” she said. “I’ll tell my father you’re here. May I have your name, please?” She switched on the ceiling fan which groaned as it turned slowly.
“Ang Chow Kah.”
The girl went to the back, returned a minute later and gently waved her hand. “Sir, please come this way.”
Chow Kah followed her to a back room next to the kitchen. The door was open and a man with streaks of grey at the temples sat in a half-lotus position on a green pandanus-woven mat. He had on a long-sleeved black t-shirt, a checked sarung and a yellow bandana with Thai scripts. “Enter, please, my friend,” he said in accented English, his voice sepulchral.
His client stepped inside, dropped to his knees to sit on the mat with legs crossed. On several rows of wall-mounted shelves stood countless vials and bottles filled with liquid of various colours. A few grass effigies in the shape of human figures huddled in a corner. A telescopic standing fan swung slowly from one side to another.
“Mr. Ang, what’s your problem?” Master Apichart’s weather-beaten features, his deep eye sockets and long creased cheeks were those of a man ending his forties.
“Er…can we talk without anyone listening?”
Master Apichart looked out the door. “Busabong, please come close the door,” he yelled.
The door was drawn shut from the outside, and Master Apichart repeated his question..
“My problem is the size of my manhood. It’s too small. I want my pride and joy to be bigger. I’ve tried almost everything, from pumps, pills to weights except surgery. They didn’t work.”
“Are you married?”
“No, but I’ve a girlfriend. I’m worried I’ll disappoint her when we marry.”
“I’ll give you a lotion to apply. You’ll also need to drink a specially concocted tonic. Price for both is seven hundred. I guarantee you’ll get results after three days.”
“Jeez…that’s expensive. Can I pay half first, the balance when I see the result.”
The bomoh shook his head and flashed a faint smile. “You don’t pay a doctor half and the balance later when the sickness is cured, do you? My price is cheap. Phalloplasty in a Bangkok clinic will cost around four thousand, U.S. dollars.”
“Okay, then.” From his back pocket, Chow Kah dragged out his wallet, counted seven hundred and handed the notes over. Master Apichart took the cash, slipped them under the folds of his sarung and rose to his feet. “Please wait here while I prepare your medication.” He took three jars from the shelves and went to the kitchen. The clanging of pots sounded, and after a few minutes, the stink of rotten garbage wafted into the room.
Master Apichart stepped in with a corked vial of lotion and a mug of black liquid in each hand. “Drink this,” he said and handed the mug to his client. He returned to his former spot, sat down, placed his left leg on the right thigh, and tucked his right leg under.
Chow Kah took a deep breath and swallowed the foul-smelling liquid. “Christ, you sure I won’t suffer a stomachache later?” He put the empty mug beside him, and wiped his lips with a handkerchief.
Master Apichart held the corked vial in front of Alvin’s face. “Apply this three times a day. Abstain from alcohol for one week, understand? I must stress to you this is very important, because the alcohol may cause complications.”
Chow Kah left the sorcerer’s house, and immediately rubbed the lotion on his weener when he got home. After two days of application, he felt different, somewhat more energetic. On the third day, while taking a shower, he noticed that his weener was still the same size. Bah, he had been cheated! He was dressing up to go out for dinner when his cell phone rang.
Voice: “Hey, it’s Jason. Tonight I’m celebrating my birthday in Hot Legs Niteclub. I’ve booked a karaoke room. It’s just a small party but there will be a strip-tease show. Want to join us? Hussein will also be there.”
Two hours later, Chow Kah and five of his buddies were eating pretzels, cocktail shrimps, honey-mustard drumsticks, chicken kebabs and caramelized bruschettes. Six GROs joined in the feast, and they helped to pour the Sapporo beer and Budweiser for the men.
When all the food was consumed, the birthday boy announced the start of the strip-tease show and played a solo-saxophone number from the karaoke machine. Everyone in the room applauded. Hot GRO Wati (pix below) kicked off her stilettos and climbed atop the coffee table. She turned her back to her audience and unbuttoned her shirt. The dancer raised her shoulders so that the shirt slid down to her arms. She extracted her arms, turned to face her audience, and held the shirt to cover her bra. Then she slowly dropped the shirt to the table. Someone blew a wolf whistle.
Chow Kah gulped more beer and stared wide-eyed at the dancer. Now, Wati started to move her hips up and down, as well as moved her hands up and down the sides of her body, caressing her hips and stomach. She turned sideways, arched her back and unzipped her pencil skirt. The garment dropped to her ankles and she stepped out of it. She was wearing lacy black panties and stockings with garters.
Something swelled in Chow Kah’s crotch. It throbbed and inflated until his pants bulged. He gulped in surprise as his manhood began expanding and growing. Suddenly, his weener burst through his briefs and zipper. More than two feet long and with a circumference of nine inches, it protruded out of his pants, and continued to grow beneath the table. Shocked, Chow Kah looked down at his genitals. Holy shit! His testicles had grown to the size of oranges! His weener, bulging with blue veins, was four feet long and still growing!
Unaware of the burgeoning thing beneath the table, the wriggling dancer stroked her shapely leg with her hands and started to roll down the stocking. The legs of the table started to wobble. Suddenly, the weener flipped the table on its side as it rose upward. Wati fell down on her bottom, saw the thing and screamed, “Eeeeeeeeek! A monster! Mummy Lulu! Help!” She got up and fled.
Jason, the birthday boy yelled, “Jesus Christ! A giant python! Run for your life!”
Hot GRO Jessica held up her Buddhist swastika, leapt behind the fallen table, and chanted, “Namo-amitoufu, namo-amitoufu, namo-amitoufu...”
Amidst screams, everyone scrambled out of the room. Chow Kah grabbed his weener which was thrashing like a giant anaconda, and scuttled down the hallway. He passed hordes of screaming customers and the bartender who fainted. Chow Kah reached his car in the open-air parking lot, slid the driver’s chair backward to make more space and managed to get in. While he was driving home, his weener started to shrink and returned to normal size. He took a cold shower and went to bed. Next morning, he was at Master Apichart’s house at seven o’clock, waiting for the bomoh to open shop. In the consultation room, Chow Kah explained to Master Apichart what had happened.
“I want an antidote,” he said. “I only wanted a few inches more not several feet!”
“I warned you not to drink beer, didn’t I?” Master Apichart shook his head. “Alcohol has a multiplier effect on my medication. The price of the antidote is five hundred.”
“Anything to get back to normal,” Chow Kah said, counting the money from his wallet.
Master Apichart moved to a shelf, took out a jar of yellow liquid and handed it to Chow Kah. “Drink this,” he said.
Chow Kah held the jar with both hands, eagerly gulped down the contents and blew a sigh of relief.