I know this isn’t the medical help subreddit however i’m desperate and need someone with basic understanding of electricity to tell me if i’ve been fucked or i’m okay
Yesterday I had my hand stuck in a vending machine, I stuck my hand in and couldn’t get it out partly because of a watch I had on (thin metal mesh watch).
At first i felt slight pressure then I started to feel tingling which I instantly knew was electricity since anytime my watch would touch the metal on the bottom part it would make my hand feel tingly. I tried multiple times to pull my hand out regardless of the watch — which caused a lot of initial bruising in the area, as well as swelling.
My hand was stuck for approximately 8 minutes
I didn’t feel a crazy electric shock while my hand was in the machine however i kept feeling tingling in my hand even a while after.
I went to the healthcare center at my uni and they checked my pressure and assessed if i can move my hand, I can move it very well nothing was broken, and I guess my pressure was fine since they didn’t point it out. They sanitized my hand and applied fucidin for a light scratch I had. After that I also went to an ER who checked off i could move my hand, but no one so far, including myself, noticed the light burn mark from my watch.
I noticed the burn only a few hours after and have been researching electric shocks and I’m not sure if I’m getting the google scaries or this is justified.
Right now there’s around three small marks around my wrist, of a quite reddish colour as well as swelling. Unfortunately I cannot attach any photos here.
I feel fatigue in my forearm and occasionally tingling towards my elbow, which all i thought were from the physical pressure on my wrist while it was stuck, but now i’m wondering if this is the aftermath of the electric shock.
Any advice is appreciated

F18, 63kg, 174cm Yesterday I had my hand stuck in a vending machine, I stuck my hand in and couldn’t get it out partly because of a watch I had on (thin metal mesh watch).
Photo of skin in comments
At first i felt slight pressure then I started to feel tingling which I instantly knew was electricity since anytime my watch would touch the metal on the bottom part it would make my hand feel tingly. I tried multiple times to pull my hand out regardless of the watch — which caused a lot of initial bruising in the area, as well as swelling.
I didn’t feel a crazy electric shock while my hand was in the machine however i kept feeling tingling in my hand even a while after.
I went to the healthcare center at my uni and they checked my pressure and assessed if i can move my hand, I can move it very well nothing was broken, and I guess my pressure was fine since they didn’t point it out. They sanitized my hand and applied fucidin for a light scratch I had. After that I also went to an ER who checked off i could move my hand, but no one so far, including myself, noticed the light burn mark from my watch.
I noticed the burn only a few hours after and have been researching electric shocks and I’m not sure if I’m getting the google scaries or this is justified.
Right now there’s around three small marks around my wrist, of a quite reddish colour as well as swelling. Unfortunately I cannot attach any photos here.
I feel fatigue in my forearm and occasionally tingling towards my elbow, which all i thought were from the physical pressure on my wrist while it was stuck, but now i’m wondering if this is the aftermath of the electric shock.
Any advice is appreciated, i will most likely go get checked up tomorrow for the burn.

HEIMLICHS AND BONE SPURS AND BURPS, OH MY!!!
Hello all! In passing, I mentioned to a friend that I've never been able to burp. She introduced me to RCPD and referred me to Craig Villari - the rest is history. I got surgery in March and I figured I would share my kinda crazy story! It's a long one.
In January, my friend mentioned that she suspected I have RCPD, which she had recently received treatment for after learning about it here on Reddit. I was stunned - I didn't realize this was a real thing! I had just thought all my life that I was a coward who couldn't burp
I was able to get an appointment with Dr Villari, an ENT, in early February, and he said he has been receiving lots of referrals and that he's starting to suspect that RCPD is more common than originally believed. It was a short appointment - he asked about my symptoms, explained the treatment, and then we scheduled a date for surgery. I was excitedly telling all my friends to pray for me and my 'burp surgery'
My symptoms for the last 24 years were pretty straightforward: I just couldn't burp. Anytime I tried to follow someone's advice, I felt like I was forcing myself to gag and vomit. I could never find the air or gas to make it happen. I was often bloated, I farted A LOT lmaooo and I always had emetophobia. That's about it, though - I didn't think it was anything that out of the ordinary.
My surgery was on Monday, March 25th, Dr. Villari said it went well and that my recovery should be smooth! I was surprised by how sore I was - I knew they'd be putting me under and invading my throat, but my friend had told me it was the easiest surgery of her life with no complications, so I think I just underestimated everything. My throat felt MASSIVE from the swelling and my inner gums had been nicked during the intubation, resulting in a small and swollen cut. I don't think I really processed the idea of 'slow swallowing', since it was mostly mentioned in passing as a part of the healing process - maybe I was hyperfocusing more on the 'microburps' and the excitement therein. This was also before I'd perused this subreddit.
I was back at work the following Wednesday after my surgery, feeling normal but a bit thick around the throat with a raspy voice and uncontrollable microburps. Optimistic about recovery!
Slow swallowing was really rough for me. I thought the 'soft food' was more of a tip as opposed to a prescription, and so I opted to eat somewhat normally but avoid crunchy/crumbly food. Dear reader, I should've been eating waaaayyy more applesauce and pudding. The swallowing was so slow that I constantly felt like I was being slowly suffocated by my food and throat. Along with slow swallowing, I felt a constant frog in my throat. When I'd lay down at night, my throat felt like a half full water bottle laid on its side. I don't know how else to describe the feeling of slightly drowning. I had to sleep with my head elevated for almost 3 weeks after surgery, which was mostly just a nuisance considering the otherwise simple recovery.
In the days following my surgery, I'd been making off-hand jokes to my brothers that I was slowly suffocating and being choked by my food every time I ate. Eating took FOREVER. I can usually eat a burger in 10 minutes tops LOL. That Friday, it took me the better part of an hour to eat 3/4 of the same burger. Eating was such a long winded chore that most days, I avoided food and went hungry - something I hadn't anticipated. That's not to say it was painful or truly challenging - more so just a psychological battle that I was not prepared for. I figured it would pass soon enough.
The Sunday following my surgery was Easter sunday, so my whole family would be spending the day together and having dinner. My dad made a prime rib ^.^ I was so excited. I ate everything on my plate, in small bites with lots of water. Everyone was mostly done eating after about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, I was still chewing after an hour had passed at the dinner table. At one point, a small piece of steak took an especially long time to find its way down my throat, and I touched my brother's shoulder to say 'ok keep an eye on me here Im struggling to get this down' and by the time he acknowledged me, the moment had mostly passed. That is to say, just lots of moments where the slow swallowing would get too slow and I'd struggle to breathe. But I was mostly okay! Four hours after dinner, I offhandedly grabbed a rye chip from the trail mix bowl. Literally just one rye chip - and it became lodged in my throat and I immediately started choking, like, frantic no air turning blue choking. I had to get heimliched 4 times before I was able to dislodge the chip and start breathing again. I threw up after that : ( I've never been heimliched before. I think it was just a perfect storm that was mostly borne of my own carelessness - dry, crumbly food and a thick, slow throat. I literally thought I was going to die in that moment lmao I had a gooood loooong panic attack immediately afterwards. But its okay my slow swallowing got a lot better after that!
Dr. Villari called me for my post-op check-in on the following Monday, April 8, and I relayed the heimlich story, which he sounded genuinely shocked to hear. I know it had nothing to do with him, but it still shocked me that he hadn't heard of the slow swallowing affecting anyone else so strongly. I also mentioned to him that my gums had been cut during the intubation, but that my mouth was slowly healing from that. He told me to reach out if I had further concerns. He was really kind and professional!
After the heimlich, I was much more careful about what I ate, and my slow swallowing seemed to get better each day. However, my gums were not healing from the small cut I'd received during surgery. The left side of my inner gums was acutely painful and I became worried that the cut had become infected. So I figured that I was due for a teeth cleaning anyway, and scheduled an appointment with my dentist on the soonest day they could get me in, April 30th.
There was no infection in my gums, but the dentist did acknowledge that the cut seemed to be a result from trauma, and she said she could've sworn that she saw some bone sticking out. She told me to rinse with salt water twice a day, she prescribed me with chlorhexidine, and told me to come back in two weeks once I was more healed up. I was relieved that I wasn't infected.
I came back on May 13th with less pain and what I thought was a white scab over my cut. The hygienist noted that it was odd and took a photo for the doctor to review later. We cleaned my teeth no problem and I went home. I became increasingly curious about my gums and kept prodding that rough white spot with my tongue. Eventually, I got curious and reached in with my fingers and was able to pull it out of my gums - it turned out to be a bone spicule, likely resulting from trauma during intubation. I was super disturbed, but the cut was completely healed over and the pain was gone.
Now, it is May 23rd: nearly 2 months after burp surgery. It was a fuckin TRIP to get here, but here we are. The burps are lovely. Just monstrous. I had a 15 second long burp, which had to be over 20 years in the making. I've had many friends coach me on belch strategies and I feel like I am completely relearning my table manners. I have also since learned that heartburn is a beast all its own. I am so glad that my friend recommended Dr Villari, even though the recovery was nothing like what I had anticipated. I am so happy to be burping.
Even after the heimlich and the bone spicule, I have to assert that BY FAR the most traumatic part of all is the FLAVORS of my burps. My god. I don't know if I will ever get used to it.
Thank you for reading my behemoth post! Let me know if you have any questions!
TLDR; surgery went well, slow swallowing fucked me up and I had to get heimliched, intubation fucked me up and caused a bone spicule, and burps taste really bad but feel really good. Sláinte!

“So, how much?”
I didn’t know Charles well, but well enough to guess that the grizzled hog farmer was a talented salesman. ‘No lowballs,’ I imagined him drawling, waggling his finger, and speaking over his exceptionally jutting chin.
“Three-hundred fifty for the land, the pen, and the house,” the man said. He spat, hard, and the tobacco-black phlegm stuck to the side of the fence post and slowly ran down the side in three rivulets.
“Then another twenty grand for the hogs. Two-hundred thirty-three of ‘em, not a large passel. Price of swine is goin’ up, I’ll tell you, so t’s the best I can give you for what you’s gettin’.”
I had expected to hand him even more money. Charles and his wife had a small operation, but big enough to matter, with a beautiful two-story farmhouse to accompany it nicely. I wasn’t getting a better deal anywhere else. At least not anywhere I wanted to be. I’d longed to live as a farmer in Tennessee ever since my family’s entire property burned to the ground back in the fall of ‘68. It was dry, and we’d just fertilized after the harvest.
Not a living thing was left untouched by the flames, not even my father, who ran back to get the horses after the barn shot up with a pillar of fire. We never found his body. Or maybe we did, but the charred dust of the barn, the corn, and the animals we called our lives and the blackened remains of the man that was my world were all reduced to ashes in the end. And when the wind came, they all blew away just the same, forever to leave me, my two sisters, and my mother behind.
I held out my hand to Charles and we shook on it.
It wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself. Not when I got my engineering degree from Georgia Tech. Not when I began work at a small engineering firm. Not even when I saw the hog farm for sale less than an hour from my house did I realize that was the world I lost that I needed back. My wife didn’t care; in fact, it brought her work commute down to forty minutes from an hour ten.
After we moved there and I began consulting part-time to make allowance for the time I needed to spend raising the hogs, caring for the land, and tending to my now-pregnant wife, the fulfillment I sought seemed that much closer. But only that. Closer, yet still out of the reach of my yearning clutches. It wasn’t until two years after I bought the farm, almost to the day, that the chips seemed to fall on my side with her.
“Micah?”
Jackie was calling from the cubicle over. Then I heard footsteps coming towards my own office space.
“Hey, yeah, did you finish the drainage plans for the floodplain you were working on? If so, I’d happily review and sign off on them.”
Jackie had come here a couple of years after I did. She was an intern at first, and everybody loved her cheery smile and sharp intellect, so she was hired on after she finished her degree. The youngest of our crew, she lived by herself in an apartment, but her lack of experience didn’t keep her from coolly sharing her opinion on matters of work when she knew she was right. And she was always right.
Jackie had always taken a liking to me in a way she didn’t seem to show toward the others. I never became sure of why she did, but I had my suspicions. Trauma and mystique go hand in hand. Maybe she saw me as broken in the same way she saw herself. After all, it didn’t take a psychologist to tell Jackie had her own skeletons in her closet. She just had that aura, the one that neglected children and broken adults share with each other. Nobody knew what life she walked out of and nobody cared. She did her job, and that was all the company cared for. But not me.
I turned away from my computer screen towards the opening of my cubicle and she was there, half silhouetted by the light behind her, staring me in the eye. Jackie trailed a finger down the edge of the cubicle wall, her mouth open barely enough for me to see her tongue flit deftly over her perfectly-aligned incisors. Ignoring my question, she continued.
“Your wife, I take it?”
She gestured with an outstretched palm toward the wedding photo I had framed on my desk.
“Yeah. Hard to believe we’ll be a family of three soon. Ha!”
I chuckled, nervously. Slightly excitedly, too. I can’t tell if Jackie knew that the latter was for what I knew was coming rather than what I had already said, but I don’t think she would have cared one way or the other.
“Say, she must be lonely waiting for you at home? I know that feeling. Being lonely.”
She took a step towards me and I glanced down at my feet. Looking back, it felt like an eternity, that looking down, that knowing what was happening and making a decision. It was a choice. And while it felt like it stretched for minutes, hours, I knew it was but a moment. Yet it only took a moment to make my descent into sin.
“I know it too. Well. Too well. She’s on a business trip - a long one. Say, I raise hogs. Prize swine, there’s good money in them. What’d you say about coming to see my farm sometime?”
It had been two hours since Jackie had left the farmhouse and was almost one-thirty in the morning, yet I wasn’t tired. According to my doctor, I have insomnia. According to my mother, I have “bad juju.” According to myself, well, I guess I just don’t feel like sleep is worth the trouble sometimes. That night, though, I didn’t sleep at all until the sun shone through my window in the early hours of the morning.
Living among swine never gave me a lot of grief before then. Some people hated the stench - my wife among them - but the manure never bothered me, and, come to find out, it didn’t bother Jackie, either. I would have asked if she had been on a farm as a child, but her demeanor and attitude told me that she wasn’t interested in the slightest in my life and that I shouldn’t be in hers, either. I suppose I wasn’t - not in the one outside of our affair, at least.
But that night, when the stars were out and shining like eyes in a limitless black sea, and when the wind rustled through the trees, a gigantic army moving across the land like a plague towards destinations unseen, I started to feel bothered in a way I never had before.
I had been sitting on the back porch in view of the pig pens after having just finished the chores. I knew I wasn’t drunk, I was only on my second beer, but sitting outside, half-empty bottle in hand, I suddenly wished I could be completely wasted. I’d never been one to believe in those types of things that you can’t touch with your hand or see with your eyes. The hair stood up on my arms and the taste of metal lapped my tongue as if a storm was coming. No, I didn’t believe in the things you couldn’t really feel, but I could sure as hell feel something now.
Unsettled, I was turning around to go get another beer before something caught my eye in the pig pen that made me glance over.
All of the pigs visible from this side of the house could be seen, through the metal fencing, staring in my direction. The ones who were blocked by the lumpy bodies of the other swine stood on the hind ends of the others to see. With their combined mass, the pigs strained the metal of the pen stalls until each stall’s fencing bulged out in the middle where the weight was distributed.
Most unique of all was the unanimous behavior of the swine. Not one fell out of sync. Each one, eyes glowing like headlights in the dark, bodies silhouetted against the light of the moon, was without noise or disturbance. Once all of the pigs were in position, they all stayed ominously still.
As I watched, one by one, hundreds of eyes closed, and a wave of darkness spread over the pen as no more eyes were open to reflect the light. I swore for a moment that the stars did too and that the world around me plunged into complete darkness, but I cannot be for certain, because at that same moment, I involuntarily blinked.
I say involuntarily because, frozen in place, the scene was too strange for me to willingly turn away from. I do not know if the same force that caused the swine to flicker their eyes caused me to do the same, perhaps a gust of wind - or of something less tangible - but upon opening them, the pigs had returned to their discord, with several having already gone to sleep. Deeply disturbed, I went inside the house and drank until the morning came and I finally found sleep.
My wife returned from her trip soon enough and without much ado upon her arrival. For the next month or so, the two of us were together, and our lives were lived without significant discord. None that she knew about, anyway. I never told her about Jackie and I certainly didn’t mention the times I saw my coworker after my wife returned, either. And while I did float an innocent question to her asking if she had noticed any of the hogs’ strange behavior, I didn’t enlighten her as to the motivation for my interrogative manner. She never appreciated being in the company of swine as it was, and turning her disdain into disgust wasn’t on my agenda.
Almost as abruptly as she had returned, my wife left, again, to be gone for the next week and a half on another trip. Probably best for her, too, because the hottest days of the year hit western Tennessee when she wasn’t there to experience them. And no sooner had she gone than Jackie resumed her nightly visits to the farm. Each time, she showed up without much notice, if any at all, and left just as abruptly.
Funnily enough, I didn’t care much. I felt no more and no less empty after she left than when she was here. So after I spent my days with my eyes on my screen and my nose in my boss’s ass, I spent my nights staring up through the bottoms of bone-dry bottles, faintly wondering if the path I walked down could’ve been just a little warmer or just a little brighter if things were different.
In spite of my catering towards my boss’s every wish at the office, he didn’t return the good-will in kind.
“What do you mean you’re asking for a raise?”
I swallowed and continued.
“I mean that it’s been five years, Glenn. I simply asked that my pay might increase to match inflation.”
My boss folded his hands across his desk and sighed. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at a couple of beads of sweat running down from his brow. We were in the heat of summer, and the air hung thick and humid around us. The office had air conditioning, but the unit was old, and the fan whistling away in the corner didn’t do much good against the record-breaking heat pressing in around us.
“I’m sorry, Micah. It’s just that you’re consulting, now, and… I can’t afford you those kinds of benefits-”
“What do you mean benefits? I’ve been here long enough I’m owed at least that, Glenn! What the fuck do you think I’m still here for? Pot lucks?”
That was the first time I had lost my temper at my boss; at least, the first time since he ripped up one of my drafts for a project several years back. That had been a long day for both of us. Now, Glenn sat back and scowled ever so slightly, and only for a brief moment, an indication that his inhibitions keeping his attitude in check were wearing thin. Nonetheless, he put on a smile, and chuckled coldly.
“Micah, look- you always were my right hand man, but you’re here so little now. One could say you’re more like my right thumb man, now.”
That was a long day too. The heat didn’t help. Somehow some bugs got into the office. Somebody probably left a door open to quash the heat, fruitlessly.
No wonder the AC’s shot, I thought to myself.
By the time it was the hour for me to leave, there were moths flitting around the lights, flies eating the stale food in the cafe, gnats alighting on every exposed surface in the office- insects were everywhere. I figured that door must have been left open most of the day.
Gotta be pretty stupid bugs, if this is where they want to be.
The time came for me to leave and I did so without a fuss. As little as I could manage, anyway. I took time to complete some errands and returned home, only to realize the heat wasn’t much less oppressive there than it was at the office, even if there weren’t any insects. If anything, it felt oddly empty without them, even after Jackie showed up. The rest of that evening was a blur of empty bottles and used cigarette butts littering the porch.
At some point — two in the morning, three, it didn’t matter — I was pulled out of my drunken slumber and forced into sobriety by a noise I could no more determine the source of than what I had eaten for dinner a year ago from the day. I sat up with a jolt and listened, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The sound, if it could be called that, was discordant, unnatural, wrong — and yet, I couldn’t remember another thing about it. It wasn’t a sound heard through your ears, a vibration in your skin, nor even a sensation of one’s physical brain; it was a thought processed through one’s sleeping soul, something that certainly cannot be described with words without diminishing the weightiness placed; without negating, in full, the sense of abject horror at its state of being.
I had sat atop that precipice between reality and unreality; sleep, the abyss, where devils absently play amongst the nightmares of men. I told myself it was just that, a dream, but I know now that the place I was and the places I was soon to go were gateways between the waking world and the one beneath it. Before I had time to process what I had just felt, I heard another sound, this one very much real, and resembling a dying animal. Slowly, I made my way out of my crumpled bed and opened the blinds. I almost wished, upon doing so, that I was back on the precipice.
Thirteen of the hogs stood in a circle on the lawn; how they had gotten out, I don’t know. Each stood perfectly still, equidistant from the next, and faced a quivering shadow in the middle of them all. I could make out faint features: a scraggly beard, a bottle- whether the man was a hiker or a drunk, I couldn’t tell. Nonetheless, he had wound up on my property, and found himself caught in a circle of pigs.
I watched the man’s motions and noted with rising horror that as he walked in one direction, the circle of pigs shifted to keep him at the center of the ring, and all the while they drew nearer to him. The man was clearly intoxicated now; it was almost half a minute before he stumbled, fell, and no sooner squelched in the dirt than thirteen squeals rang through the night and the animals blotted out his body from sight with their unified mass.
The man let out one scream but could manage no more than one. The ring was a blur of motion. I saw little but I saw enough; one pig reared its glistening head and I watched part of a scalp fly from its gaping mouth, arcing dark liquid as it trailed across the yard. Another couple chunks of meat rolled away from the pile and reached a stop several feet away in the yard; once the pigs were through with their feast, they broke off from the previous site, now nothing but a red stain on the earth, and gobbled up the pieces that had got away.
It took me the next four hours to get the pigs back into their pen, but I managed it. And, none had to be shot in the process, though I surmised I should come with a gun readied. A cleanup wasn’t necessary either; it was a hog farm, so it’d be getting dirty again soon. I considered another individual might find the stain, but there was no proof it was human blood, and I had no intention of calling the police out there.
That morning, my boss was late to work. I suppose that’s to be expected, though, when one has had their tires slashed. He was livid, and I didn’t correct his supposition that his ex-wife had committed the act, though I’m sure he would have loved another reason to fire me. After all, I was nothing more than a right thumb man.
The day had gone quicker and cooler than the former, and the low droning of the rain made the day seem just a little less lonely. Of course, I was slated to see Jackie that night, and after lunch I had left work, gone off to purchase more drinks from the local liquor store. I remember having gotten enough to fill the passenger seat of my truck, and felt almost as if the pile of liquor was a singular being, watching me; the silently judgemental friend. I had a twinge of anxiety, and half wondered if I was going insane; at that, I laughed.
The air was cool when Jackie got there. My mother always used to call that the first breath of autumn, when the reaper opened his eyes and cooed softly to his crop before the inferno was snuffed out by the frigid winter. As a child, I didn’t pay much attention to her words, but as I grew older I felt the cold in my bones, and tonight I felt it in my soul, a faint whisper of death like the mark of the beast. I watched Jackie’s hair whip to the side, a black flag in the wind, as she approached the house. On the doorstep, we embraced, and I recall she said she needed to talk.
“You’re an awfully successful man, Micah. And I know you’ve got a lot of money. Maybe you’re not wealthy, no, but you’re richer than me, and there’s enough to go around. It’d be a damn shame if your poor wife found out about me. No, I haven’t said a thing yet, and I know you know that, for the poor thing couldn’t take the stress and might just die. But I could say a thing, and maybe even a little more. And a nasty thing it’d be, too. I’d just ask for $1,000 a month, but times are tough, so I’m inclined to say $2,000 would be enough to keep my mouth shut. And, of course, we could continue seeing each other. . . if you’d so please.”
Some say they see red when they’re angry enough, but I still remember how I saw even less; the next five minutes of my life were no clearer to me than several brief glimpses of reality, interspersed by periods of unreality before the next glimpse. A scream, and then another. The thought: she’s got a knife. A bone snapped: mine, hers, it didn’t matter. Blood; spattered on the carpet, on my shirt, and the drip-drip of a glistening red globe, smashed in through the side like a cracked egg. I remember the silence before the adrenaline eased and I felt pain, and I remember the pain before the squelch when I issued one last kick to the body, lying on the ground.
It had been time for me to feed the pigs. Jackie usually helped me with the feeding when she came over, always with a coy look, and often it was short lived and I needed to finish the job on my own after she left. I was betting that she could help me again. Hoisting her up onto my shoulder wasn’t difficult, though I supposed she was lighter than usual. I stooped to pick up the last few pieces that didn’t come with the rest of her and took the two of us to our yard.
The part of the brain we, as people, already understand cannot possibly encompass every sensation which we, as people, feel. Scientifically, maybe- but that feeling that makes dogs bark at empty rooms; that makes cats stare into walls before jumping away, frightened; that feeling exists in humans, too. Call it a sixth sense, or ESP, it’s there, and I felt it when carrying Jackie. The birds had stopped calling, the trees had ceased rustling, and a low, droning buzz resounded outside the pig pen. It rose in volume and pitch, and as I dropped Jackie’s lifeless corpse onto the ground, it blocked entirely the noise of the world around me.
I didn’t even hear the thump. Nor did I hear the pigs, for it wasn’t until I looked up from her body, panting heavily from the effort of what had transpired, that I saw that we stood on the fringe of a gathering of the pigs. I couldn’t see if any remained in the pen, but I could see that at least a hundred gathered here outside the pen, all staring at me with glassy eyes and salivating mouths. Some stood on the haunches of the others to see, and many were covered in blood, having been left uncleaned since the events of the previous night. Even through the foggy daze I was in, my fear registered on a guttural level and, in horror at the unreality of what I was seeing, I backpedaled, eventually tripping over a rut in the earth and falling to the ground.
The next moment, each of the pigs had turned to look at what was left of Jackie. For a couple of seconds, they stared at her, and I realized that the droning in my ears had stopped, replaced with nothing but an ominous silence. That silence was short lived, for in one, unanimous, ear-splitting squeal, the pigs raced each other to the body, and carnage ensued.
The hogs in front no sooner reached the body than were ripped apart by the pigs behind them. Huge flaps of fatty skin hung in ribbons from the napes of their necks and blood sprayed in all directions as necks, limbs, tails, and extremities were mangled with the reckless abandon of a pack of wild dogs. I suppose that’s what they were; even if I treated them like domesticated creatures, they were animals, and they were out of the control of any constraints that civilization wanted to place on them.
The mass of flesh moved rhythmically and dripping bodies were flung like oversized rag dolls from the fray to land wetly and lifelessly on the earth. Occasionally, I would hear a crunch as bones were rent and snapped under the pressure of the fray, and squeals as the broken limbs stabbed through the fleshy bodies of the animals atop them. Hooves, teeth, and bones carved the flesh of the other pigs, and while blood and feces sprayed freely, chunks of gore rolled out of the fray like meaty baseballs.
The pleasant temperature drop had undone itself, as the wind had stopped blowing, and the stench of the scene hung thick in the hot and heavy air of late summer. I vomited, over and over, bent over in the shit and the blood, eyes watering from the smell, and blood dripped from everywhere on my body. It ran off my body in rivulets and pooled around my feet. Some was mine, but more was Jackie’s, and more yet was the remains of the pigs. Blood dripped from my mouth onto the dirt, and I could no longer tell if I was looking up towards the cruel stars, down at the earth, or witnessing the slaughter before me, for my sight was veiled by a coating of blood, and my senses were clouded by the rush of adrenaline, though I could do nothing but sit in shock.
Breathe.
A chunk of meat smacked me in the shoulder.
Breathe.
An ear bounced off of my forehead.
Breathe.
An opened artery sprayed blood across my face in a line.
Breathe.
My eyes recognized four pigs on the fringe of the conflict abandoning their course for what was left of Jackie and I saw turn to me, each foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. I saw two get ripped away by two other pigs, but the remaining couple charged. The one that reached me first clamped its maw around my leg not a moment before the next reached it, bit into its neck, and thrashed it back and forth.
I couldn’t hear my own screams above the countless squeals of the hog pile and the constant wet ripping that resounded through the dark sky. Eventually, the pig that had bit me gave out with a squeal, but not before the lower half of my leg was snapped with one, final pull, and the pig behind then buried its face in the body of the dying hog before being dragged back into the conflict by another. I failed to even hear my cries of pain over the sounds of the fray; I knew I screamed only from the burning in my throat.
Breathe.
A second later, I was thrown by the arm and crashed against the soggy earth several feet away from the conflict. For a moment, I wondered if I was alive, or if the world I was seeing around me was really Hell, and I was a damned soul being punished for my sins. At that, I blacked out, and entered a timeless, dreamless slumber that sent the world back into the buzzing mayhem I had felt before the carnage.
I opened my eyes some brief time later to find that the buzzing persisted in my ears while awake. Perspiring heavily from the heat, I found I was lying on my back on the ground, facing the burning remains of my house. The buzzing was really the rush of flames lapping at the sky and the crackling of embers as the roaring fire pulled them out of sight.
“Swine,”
The voice, which rang impossibly clear in the noise of the night, above the roar of the inferno and the sounds of the approaching sirens, had come from but a few feet behind the back of my moist head. Even after all that had transpired, the word made my hair stand on end, for it was spoken with a voice that could snuff out the stars if it were to say that they ought to stop shining.
I turned my head to face behind me, groaning sharply from the pain, to see a man atop a mountain of hundreds of mutilated hogs. The pile ran with a constant stream of blood and feces, which dripped slowly over the terraced stack of corpses to form a small lake underneath, the edge of which lapped my face with miniature waves of gore.
“. . . they never learn.”
Then, the man smiled, and I realized with horror that his legs resembled those of ruminants.
And atop his head rested two ebony horns, glistening in the moonlight.

hey everyone, hope this isn't taken as spam, if it is, please delete. and I'm not trying to take anyone away from this lol
I run a small community here in south Florida and most of us are gamers too.
so trying to do what I can for the community, I created a discord to bring everyone together to share ideas, share RC projects, ask questions and get quick knowledgeable answers, share photos and videos. We also have a section for RC deals online, you can promote your socials, and a section for you to post things for sale as well. So if you like anything RC and video games, join me on discord.
If you're local, I'm also creating a bot that will point you to local crawling spots depending on your area. I'm hoping to expand it to different states. using info from different sites online and people in our community.
everyone is welcome to join! hope to see you guys there!
The RC Gamer HUB

hey everyone, hope this isn't taken as spam, if it is, please delete. and I'm not trying to take anyone away from this lol
I run a small community here in south Florida and most of us are gamers too.
so trying to do what I can for the community, I created a discord to bring everyone together to share ideas, share RC projects, ask questions and get quick knowledgeable answers, share photos and videos. We also have a section for RC deals online, you can promote your socials, and a section for you to post things for sale as well. So if you like anything RC and video games, join me on discord.
If you're local, I'm also creating a bot that will point you to local crawling spots depending on your area. I'm hoping to expand it to different states. using info from different sites online and people in our community.
everyone is welcome to join! hope to see you guys there!
The RC Gamer HUB

hey everyone, hope this isn't taken as spam, if it is, please delete. and I'm not trying to take anyone away from this lol
I run a small community here in south Florida and most of us are gamers too.
so trying to do what I can for the community, I created a discord to bring everyone together to share ideas, share RC projects, ask questions and get quick knowledgeable answers, share photos and videos. We also have a section for RC deals online, you can promote your socials, and a section for you to post things for sale as well. So if you like anything RC and video games, join me on discord.
If you're local, I'm also creating a bot that will point you to local crawling spots depending on your area. I'm hoping to expand it to different states. using info from different sites online and people in our community.
everyone is welcome to join! hope to see you guys there!
The RC Gamer HUB

hey everyone, hope this isn't taken as spam, if it is, please delete. and I'm not trying to take anyone away from this lol
I run a small community here in south Florida and most of us are gamers too.
so trying to do what I can for the community, I created a discord to bring everyone together to share ideas, share RC projects, ask questions and get quick knowledgeable answers, share photos and videos. We also have a section for RC deals online, you can promote your socials, and a section for you to post things for sale as well. So if you like anything RC and video games, join me on discord.
If you're local, I'm also creating a bot that will point you to local crawling spots depending on your area. I'm hoping to expand it to different states. using info from different sites online and people in our community.
everyone is welcome to join! hope to see you guys there!
The RC Gamer HUB

I’m currently nine weeks post op and when I first got by cast off (photo on the left) I was absolutely in love with my new nose…it was perfect and just what I’d asked for, small, de-projected with a lifted tip.
It wasn’t until I got to about week 5 when the swelling went down some more that I realised features of my old nose were starting to reappear…my tip had dropped and looked bigger and the shape of my nose had gone back to being pointy like it used to be.
I’m honestly so devastated and I know that sounds silly but id wanted this done for 20 years after so much insecurity and it was so much money and after initially thinking it was the perfect result it seems to have gone wrong….has anyone else had this issue?

I’ve never been on Reddit before, but I need some outside perspectives on this because I’m pretty torn. So, I (17f) and my boyfriend (18m) have been together for around 6 months. We live in the US and are completely across the country from each other. Since it’s about a six hour flight to each other, we’ve only met twice, once at my house and once at his, both for about a week each.
Last week, I flew out alone to his house for the first time to surprise him for his 18th birthday. I’ve never flown alone, and I’m not very familiar with flying, so I’ve never done anything even remotely close to this before. His parents obviously knew I was coming, so they helped me coordinate everything, but it was hard doing everything without him knowing. I also got/ made him a bunch of thoughtful gifts. He was super surprised and excited, and it was an amazing trip, until the end.
We were sitting on his bed after having some fun, and he was telling me a story that included this picture of him. I wanted to see the picture, so he started scrolling through his photos. He was taking a super long time, so I said, “just let me look.” He handed me his phone with the camera app open, so I clicked on the little button in the bottom left corner that shows you the most recent photos you’ve taken. The most recent was a video of me.
I’ve had a past experience where I’m pretty sure I got recorded, and since then, I’ve been super terrified of it. I’ve had multiple conversations with him about how I’m super scared of being recorded and have told him about what happened to me. When I turned to look at him, he was like a deer in headlights and just started apologizing. He knew it was wrong.
I ended up finding more in his phone, including photos he saved of me without me knowing and screen recorded videos from the hub. I obviously regret this now, but for the record, I’ve never “deprived” him of anything like this. I honestly would’ve been open to making a video if he asked, but he didn’t. He purposely went out of his way to disrespect and violate me.
The night before this, we had gotten into a small fight where he admitted to a bunch of lies about other things after I called him out on some stuff. We’ve had issues with him lying in the past, and we almost broke up a couple months ago when I found out he lied about his body count.
I feel so stupid and betrayed. I still love him and wanna be with him, but I obviously can’t trust him anymore. I know I need to leave him, but I don’t know how or if I can. My father told me that “all guys are gonna do this,” and that it’s “their nature,” and I don’t wanna believe that, but I’m scared that he’s right. I’m having those thoughts that are like, “I won’t find anyone better,” and I don’t want them to be true, but my dad saying that stuff to me made it worse. I know I need to leave but I feel like I’m stuck. He’s threatened to do something unsafe if I leave, and I’d blame myself if he did. WIBTA?

Hi all! Our elopement has morphed into a small destination wedding in a few weeks with our closest family/friends. I have not posted any dates online or announced when it is at all, I was kind of hoping after we get back from the honeymoon to announce it with one of our photographers photos like “we finally did it!”
Is there an appropriate way to ask guests not to post photos or share anything about it until we do?
Thanks!

Hi all! Our elopement has morphed into a small destination wedding in June with our closest family/friends. I have not posted any dates online or announced when it is at all, I was kind of hoping after we get back from the honeymoon to announce it with one of our photographers photos like “we finally did it!”
Is there an appropriate way to ask guests not to post photos or share anything about it until we do?
Thanks!

Hi,
So, I'm in a bad place right now both mentally and physically. As the title states, I was groomed by someone much older than me, it started when I was 19 (I'm 24 now).
I'll call him John, like I did in my other posts. I met John in an eating disorder chatroom when I was at a low point, and he offered to help me bc he had experience-he had an ex girlfriend with anorexia. I felt disgusted with myself at the time and he seemed trustworthy. I thought it was kind of John to help me. He was a perfect gentleman, not a single red flag from what I could see, which only strengthened my trust in him.
Bc I was in a relationship at the time, he respected that, but would still maintain and encourage my anorexia by starvation (the longest he starved me was for about 2 and a half weeks), exercise, calorie counting, weigh ins and body inspections (I was fully clothed at this point). Sometimes he would make sexual comments on my body but apologize afterwards.
Not long after we began talking, John told me that he began seeing someone. A girl named Summer, who was my age (give or take a year or two), according to him. Despite not being sexual with me, he would describe to me the sexual activity between him and his girlfriend. My own relationship was incredibly abusive and neglectful and John would encourage me to end it, but I never could—not until it reached a breaking point, and I was ghosted.
I was broken by this, but John swooped in and made sure I was okay. He checked on me, made sure I was safe from myself, and made me promise not to hurt myself. This is when John’s control over me grew, and our relationship became sexual.
Up until this point, John only focused on my eating and physical appearance (he would play "dress up", where he helped me find clothes and outfits that were more feminine and appealing to men), and he began teaching me about adult things. Before this, I had little to no experience in relationships or intimacy. It made me uncomfortable to talk or think about, and I thought it was gross; I felt inadequate and not physically appealing to my ex so I would ask John for advice. It didn’t matter though, given that my ex wasn't concerned with being intimate or romantic with me.
John's control over me grew over time following the end of my relationship. He would teach me things by showing me adult content and going over it with me and explaining what was happening; teaching me how to...touch myself, using adult toys (I had to practise everyday and show him video evidence). He also introduced me to BDSM and DDLG-I had to address him as either “Sir” or “Daddy,” which I didn’t mind, I wanted to show him respect because he was so kind to me. He would call me his “little girl”/ “baby girl.” DDLG was a safe space for me, at least I thought because it replaced self-harm, and I thought John was taking great care of me.
This was the same 24/7 ddlg dynamic he had with his girlfriend Summer, and , and when I asked if it was okay for him and I to continue talking with each other, he assured me that Summer knew, and that because he was the dominant one in the relationship, he could see whomever he wanted. He would call us his "good little girls".
Over the years, John became more comfortable being sexual around me, and he eventually controlled every aspect of my life. I was required to keep my body thin and completely shaven smooth. He would experiment with heavy restriction and starving me of all food to see how it affected my mind and body; but I still didn’t see an issue with this because I thought he was perfecting me; not to mention my mind was so warped from the anorexia by this point.
I developed a crush on John due to his kindness, and eventually I fell in love. I loved him so much, I would have done anything to make him happy, and he knew this. When I told him, he said he wasn't sure if he loved me back, but that he wanted me, and he showed this all the time, through intimate photo exchanges. He told me he was worried about me being in love with him, because he didn’t want to feel as though he was taking advantage of me, but our relationship continued. He knew I was so attached at that point, him leaving would devastate me.
Whenever I wanted to talk to John about personal things, and get to know him (vice versa), he wasn't as eager, but he would tell me small things about himself, but I was completely open to him. It was one of his rules, I wasn’t allowed to keep secrets from him, especially not with my body (I sent his body checks and intimate photos whenever he asked). One day I asked him why, and he said that he’s not good with letting people in, which I could understand because I am incredibly shy. Because John was so kind to me, and attentive and patient, I wanted to respect his privacy.
Sometimes, John would vanish for a few days or weeks out of nowhere, which always worried me; I’d grown so attached to him that it devastated me each time, I was worried something had happened to him. But he was mostly on business trips, according to him (he never went into much detail about his work, though, and given the field he works in, I wouldn’t have understood anyway). Once last year, he vanished for nearly two months, and I was so depressed, my university was forced to hospitalize me. Everyone would try to tell me he wouldn't come back, but he always did, and this strengthened my attachment to him.
Given how much it affected me, John began to let me know whenever he needed to leave, and he promised he’d never vanish without telling me, especially after how much my ex's ghosting had affected me.
Fast forward to this year in February, John vanished again. I should mention that our relationship was entirely online (I live in the south, he lives up north-U.S.), but he would even talk about coming to see me and how excited it made him. Last time we lost contact, I gave him my phone number just in case, but after a few weeks he never reached out, so I assumed something bad had happened to him. I was so inconsolable, I stopped focusing on school, eating for weeks, and I stayed in my dorm.
This is when I began looking for him. I was 100% devoted to him and it didn’t occur to me that he was playing with my emotions, so I used the limited amount of info I had on him, and eventually, I found him (with the help of some friends).
However, there were some issues:
1.His name wasn't John, it was Connor (but I’ll call him John for the rest of this story, to avoid confusion).

1. He had a Facebook, and it had photos of a woman and child (his wife and son).
   
2. He'd been married years before he met me.
   

4.His kid was born around the time he began initiating sexual aspects into our relationship.

1. His girlfriend probably didn't exist either, but there was a girl I came across, someone his life who matches the description he gave me to a “T”. I can’t be sure of this, but the coincidence is strong.

There was no doubt in my mind that I’d found the right person. It was the same kind face, the same smile—it was him. But i didnt know what to make of the information. Like, who would lie like this, and I'm so much detail for years? I assumed he'd been catfished ir something. My counselors at school wanted me to move on and forget him, they all saw him as a horrible person. But I’d been so brainwashed by this point that anyone who spoke against John could not be trusted in my eyes.
Before this, I was instructed not to go into too much detail about our relationship in counseling because they would send me to the hospital and quote, “take away his control.” This scared me, I didn’t want him to go away, so I never said anything. But when I was being encouraged to do things that went against what John taught me, I broke. I told my counselors everything, how I couldn’t dress how I wanted or eat whatever I wanted because John didn’t allow it, and he controlled everything. I was genuinely afraid of upsetting John by going against what he taught me. I repeated it over and over, but no one understood, they looked at me as if something was very very wrong, and it frustrated me.
My university counselors once again sent me to the hospital. Once I was released, I looked for John in other places online, but they were dead ends (not him, I guess), so I found his phone number. Now, he had absolutely no idea I knew of his real name, his real life, etc., so once I was feeling better emotionally and mentally, I called him. I was so nervous, but because of the way John had conditioned me, I was convinced that everything would be okay once we talked, that he’d miss me like he always did when he returned from work trips.
I said a prayer before I called him..once I told John who I was, he became flustered. He managed to stutter out that he had no idea who I was, and he hung up before I could say anything else. This is the moment I lost my mind, in the worst way imaginable. Throughout this entire ordeal, I clung to the hope that things would be okay once we talked, and after our phone call I was completely broken.
I tried rationalizing it in my head, like maybe he had been catfished, but his voice matched the voice messages he'd send me, and my friends who helped me find him informed me that he deleted his socials the day after our call, so there was no doubt that I had the right guy. He knew exactly who I was. No catfish. This also confirmed to me that John was a liar, that he’d manipulated and groomed me for sexual gratification.
After a few weeks of discussing it in counseling, I concluded that I’d have to say something. Not only had John used me, but there were other girls, too. I’m not sure how many but in the beginning, he told me of another girl (also anorexic) who he was helping (he showed me her bodychecks, but idk how old she was). There were also some secret accounts I came across during sleuthing, which showcased some very suggestive images of girls who could easily be mistaken for very young teenagers. I even showed them to my counselor, and she agreed. I’m not the type to throw out accusations, but it looked incriminating.
I know people have opinions on grooming, that it can only happen to minors, but when we met, I was a 19 year old in a vulnerable state (he was 34 when we met), inexperienced in both the world, and sex, and he introduced me to all of it, gained my trust over time, made me feel like the most special girl in the world. He conditioned me to do everything he asked, to please him no matter how uncomfortable or how scared it made me—he wanted to take my virginity when we “met in person.” If I were 15 instead of 19, it’d sound horrible. And my counselors informed me that even though it was online, it doesn't make my situation less valid.
I didn't notice how sociopathic (I genuinely mean this, not just throwing the word around lol) John truly was. How he'd keep forcing me sexually even when I begged him to stop bc it hurt/scared me (he'd use the word "force"). 1. How he used his “girlfriend” to make me more comfortable with the twisted things he asked of me, how he fostered jealousy on my end by describing their closeness. 2. How he never showed me pictures of his girlfriend (but I could hear him speak with her through our voice messages). 3. How he’d pimp me out to boys on my campus and have me describe it in detail. 4. How I’d get in trouble for saying no (punishments included clothespins, binder clips, forcing toys down my throat. 5. How I'd been starved to where my clothes hung off of me and my bones showed; and how much he loved it and thought it made me beautiful. 6. How I'd been hospitalized several times bc of him, whether it be malnutrition or depression from missing him when he was away for work. 6. How I'd have to perform sexually for the camera and show him (he mentioned showing a friend of his a few times), starving me for weeks, referring to sexual interactions with me as “molesting” or “abusing.”
Some days I love him still, other days I want to ruin him the way he ruined me. I don’t like revenge, even when the person deserves it. Anger and hatred terrify me, especially when I feel them, and my love for him pushed any notions of revenge out of my mind. But I can’t let this happen to another girl. I know I’m not in control of that, but I can at least bring attention to it. He seems like a completely different person online than how he portrays himself in person, around his family/friends. It’s giving Jekyll and Hyde.
I'm currently a student but I put my studies to use and channeled my anger into a case study on John (I need the practise), and I‘ve concluded that he could be sociopathic, with a paraphilic coercive disorder and sexually narcissistic tendencies. He loved control, showing dominance towards vulnerable, helpless, innocent (in terms of sexual experience) girls, and this is the way he kept me. He liked it best when I was docile and childlike from starving-it aroused him. There are subsections to pedophilia, and when we met, I was at the cut off age for the ephebophilia (ages 15-19), and the fact is deeply unsettling.
Now that I’ve reached these conclusions, I plan to bring this to light. And while I do not see this as revenge, my counselor informed me that it is, in the technical sense, so I can’t ignore that. I won’t go into detail about what my plans are, bc this isnt the place for that, but I’ve gotten the “move on and heal” speech from everyone I’ve mentioned this situation to, and honestly, it makes me feel like I'm being dismissed and brushed aside. Like it's not that big of a deal and I can move on when it's just been a few weeks. I know they don't mean it to come across in this way but this is how it feels to me. a
I want to make it clear that I was manipulated, brainwashed, and groomed. And after my previous abusive relationship, I am so, so sick of people taking advantage of me, letting me get attached and throwing me away like trash. At this point, I’m honestly convinced that’s all I’m good for.
John/Connor, the man who hurt me was white, but I didnt really see this as an important factor, as long as he was a good person, which I thought he was. He's married to a white woman irl, and the (possibly made up) girl he told me he was dating was also white, but the adult content he made me watch included girls of all races and ethnicities. He even described adult encounters with his exes, and he would mention their ethnicity while describing their body. Now that I know what he did, I just feel gross all the time. Icky. He'd talk about how much he loved my eyes, my full lips, how certain parts of my body stayed curvy even when he starved me to a low weight. Was I being fetishized?
To add on, I was also briefly married to someone (the ex that ghosted me) who only wanted me for citizenship, he neglected me and treated me horribly. He and his family gossiped about me to everyone they could, even bragged about my ex only wanting me for the citizenship. Everything about me as an issue, from the way I dressed, my shyness, my virginity, and my race (most of them are white passing- my ex identified as white too, even though he looked nothing close).
After what happened with my marriage, I thought John/Connor liked me for me. All parts of me, even my race. He was definitely attracted to me (you can probably guess how I know), and he would tell me that I was his, that I belonged to him. He treated me like I was good, pure and innocent, infantilized me, and treated me like a child (which i didnt notice bc I was practically an older teen when I met him), but he would sexualize me at the same time (not to an exotic level imo but I could be wrong about that, too).
Idk, despite my self esteem issues, my race was the one thing I didnt really hate about myself. I can change my weight, or the way I dress but I cant change this... not that I want to... I can't tell anyone in my life about this. They either don't have the time to deal with my emotions, or want me to just forget about it. I'm just really lost right now and idk how to feel. The more I think about it, I feel fetishized.

https://imgur.com/a/sDXo2kU
Small Sebenza 31 Red Micarta Inlay
https://imgur.com/a/mmWmnjZ
This is the small seb with glass blast, Magnacut and red micarta inlay. I’ve carried it a couple of times but I don’t see any snails or any other marks on it. Hardware is not anodized. I have big trees which make all my photos get a little hint of color to them and I noticed the hardware looked a little bronzed in the photos, but it is not. Absolutely beautiful and I hate to part with it but I need the funds, so no trades today but I will knock $100 off the price I paid new, so someone is getting a nice bro price of $475 SV.
Payment by Zelle, Venmo or Paypal FF. Thanks for looking!