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Ladies and gentlemen - but mostly gentlemen - I give you: the internal clitoris:

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"It's sole function – its singular, wonderful purpose – is to make a woman feel good!!"

And now let's do a Google image search for "floating alien."

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There we are; that's one of the first six results. When I saw that first image, I emailed the woman who had shared the link: "Of course men hate women. They're all pretty and alluring outside, but inside, they're terrifying alien monsters that demand satisfaction - not for the good of the species, but for their own mysterious selves. Kidding! Kidding? Kidding."

She replied: "Terrible creatures. It's true."

And then. Then I saw this over at The Hairpin. The language that follows is fairly crass and explicit, so be forewarned.

Not only does this particular scent [yes, you can guess which scent] enhance the perception of our beauty, copulins have actual mind control effects on the male brain. When a man is exposed to a woman’s copulins over time, she is eventually able to:

1) Change, remove, or insert memories 2) Tell the male what he sees, hears, feels, smells, tastes 3) Insert subconscious thoughts that will surface as male "ideas" or behavior later 4) Plant trigger words or actions that can cause thoughts, actions, or sensations in the male at later dates (days, weeks, even months)

Here’s how. The process is called “coupling.” A man has to be inside you, but not thrusting. You lie together like puzzle pieces, and:

While the penile duct is being opened, the vaginal walls begin secreting a much thicker fluid, thicker even than the fluid holding the penis in place. The fluid is chemically attracted to semen. In short, the fluid enters the penis, follows the semen down the shaft and directly into the gonads. This process can take as long as fifteen minutes, and requires that the vagina produce up to and exceeding 100 milliliters (a little less than half a cup) of this fluid in order to completely fill the penile shaft and gonads. This is over twenty times as much fluid as is ejaculated by the male during sexual intercourse.

Perhaps you are thinking, “How do I get a guy to hang out inside me while also resisting the instinct to thrust back and forth?” Good question. You have two options.

The first is to be honest. Tell him what you are doing, make him a willing participant, and then go feed that unicorn.

The second is to be discreet and distracting. It takes time for your nectar to stream into him, so the fastest and most effective position is lady on top. My advice is to have sex but then don’t get off of him. Play it cool. Talk about upcoming global warfare, ask him to explain the rules of a sport you hate, or simply pretend to fall asleep because he was “that good.”

After 15 minutes, the copulins have been released like a pack of wild dogs. They travel from his balls up to his hypothalamus. He is now fully susceptible.

Once a hypothalamus is flooded with copulins, the male brain is just sitting on idle, with only the bare minimum of thought process. In this state, the male is probably not thinking of anything at all, but any input from the female will become the male’s singular focus.

The implications are pretty wild. Under the influence, you can suggest acts for him to perform. I recommend staying within reach of his moral compass, but from there, the sky’s the limit. Testimonials are remarkable. Copulin-infused men not only comply with the requests of their women, but also do so happily. Men and women alike attest that “coupling” has genuinely improved their relationships.

While it’s fantastic on a micro level that men can became better partners, I can’t help but think of the bigger picture. Imagine if we get the wives, girlfriends and mistresses of male members of Congress to couple their way into some much-needed legislation getting passed in this country?

Are you ready to change the world?

If that's not the setup for the scariest Invasion of the Body Snatchers/The Manchurian Candidate mashup ever, then I don't know what is. (Scary, of course, from the male perspective. They might ask us to hand over the remote! Or stop watching football! Or worse!) Again, all I need is $100K and a satchel of cocaine, and I'll have you a script by Monday.

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