Holiday stocking stuffer

Alright guys, I know you love your good-ole-boy, Republican Jockeys cause they're all conservative and dad-like. And you hike 'em up to your belly button like a pair of granny panties. Bitch, please. If you could rock a basket like this guy without a trouser snake, suspensory, or sock, you'd do it ... even if it seemed a little gay. I mean, look at it. Look at this man's unit. He could poke somebody's eye out with that thing. It's huge and bulbous and you don't know whether you should get down and worship it or secretly shoot daggers from your jealous, hateful eyeballs. It's commanding and you want it. You might even feel "alpha" enough after putting them on to shave your chest and abdominal hair. (If you haven't already been tempted to do so by that other jealousy-inducing commercial for Phillips BodyGroom shaver. Faggot.) So, you stand there in your new skivvies looking in the mirror and everything looks as it did until you turn to the side, and then, bam! You knock something over on the counter because your package is so fucking huge it'd knock just about anything out within a foot radius of your existence. "I really am a size queen," you think. "Am I gay?" Then, your girlfriend walks in with her Wonderbra and models and whatnot and you try to hug each other but you just can't because you're both poking each other and putting distance there and argh! It's awful. (But you look good.)

And that's all that matters.

Introducing the men's version of the Wonderbra. Meet the Wonderjock.

Men, it's time to lift up and push out. Let's see those bulges.