caliber vs. ammunition

Tim was impressed as the long-promised Dr. Vixen Sinclair strode into his room. He had to confess that it was nearly impossible to think of her as a scientist rather than a sex object, inspiring, sudden, deep, and serious sexual yearning -- but he elected not to talk about that. She appeared preoccupied, focusing on her clipboard.

"All right," she seemed to be saying aloud more for her own benefit, "I'm still not able to see Mr. Krown just yet, so I may as well make the rounds I promised -- and it is such a shame that policy keeps me from seeing for myself Mr. Hammer and his sixteen inches ... !"

Tim felt amused as Dr. Sinclair just stood there in a sudden reverie over this "Mr. Hammer and his sixteen inches."

"Ah, Dr. Sinclair," Sophie spoke up, "Mr. Tim Buckett here -- "

"Beckett," Dr. Sinclair kindly corrected her.

"Oh, yes, of course! Just this morning we upped the dosage of the Plantagenet **** for Mr. Buh- Beckett here -- and this is the result." She helf up the bulging straing tie-dup Kong condom.

Dr. Sinclair just smirked. "Really, Sophie, I would love to believe that myself. OBGYN is really on us to determine if DEEP, the so-called second puberty, can be of any help to their fertility goals. Our funding is at stake, I know that, and evidently you that -- but fraud will not do."

"I'm serious, Doctor."

"Sophie, for any man to ejaculate that much in one session -- the poor guy would dehydrate, he would be as dead and dry as a mummy!"

"But you will recall that there is a billion-to-one chance of an unusually strong genetic response to the ****, and you will also remember that the **** induces 'plantimality' to be able to boost the bulk of certain tissues from directly out of the surrounding air. Besides, Doctor," Sophie added a bit ruefully, "it's really more about ammunition than claiber, you know."

"Even so, we need hard data ... like what we've been hearing about that Mr. Hammer and his sixteen inches ... !"

Tim had to shake his head. Another reverie? But he was also somewhat concerned, because he liked the idea of at least one cool professional running things, but if Dr. Sinclair herself was spacing out so often over sixteen inches, he had to wonder what his own serpentine two-footer, currently twitching to new life between his knees, might mean to her.

"All right, gils, clear out -- and Sophie, be sure to analyze that semen." At last alone with her patient, she sat next to Tim. "Good morning, Mr. Beckett. All right, then ... " She began to pull his blankets away from his body. " ... let us see how you are doing today, shall we?"