"OK -- hurry!"
He is sitting on the toilet, shirt off, shorts around his ankles, red-faced. His right hand holds a ruler and his left ... well, his left hand seems to be choking some otherworldly tentacle. The thing's the size of a paper towel roll, but looks perfectly healthy.
"Check the ruler," he says in a faintly strangled tone. Leaning forward gingerly, I confirm that his bone-pressed penis is indeed 10 and a half inches.
As the blood drains back to the rest of his body, Mike twists his penis over and points to the stretch mark. And, sure enough, it is there, and it is nearly 5 inches long, pink and angry, a symbol of everything a man can aspire to.