Things have been busy here so I thought I would catch up on our two latest race adventures.
It's time for another race, so I hook up to the trailer and bring it to work. The Miata has been in the enclosed trailer since I ran it through the Christmas parade, but now it is time to wake it from it's winter slumber and start preparing it for Barber, our 10th 24 Hours of Lemons race.
The car should not need much as we ran nearly flawless at the last race at Road America. We had one spin and the wing mounts broke but that was about it.
I get it to the shop and we hurry up and start in. I already have one bay tied up with the next car we are building (more on that later, it is epic) and can't afford to tie up a second during business hours. Youngest jumps in and rebuilds the entire wing assembly. Manny comes by and drives the car to his place and keeps it there until a few more parts come in. It's a block or two away from the shop, we can nearly see it from the front sidewalk. No plates, no insurance, no problem.
Next we change out the brake pads, front rotors, front brake hoses and rear pads. We also change the timing belt after a debate on exactly how many race hours the old one has. Change the oil and the car is ready to load.
Racerguy comes down and we leave out Thursday night. I am driving a little fast as the website shows the gates close at 9 and our gps says we are expected to get there at 9.01. A quick fuel stop and a brisket sandwich at Buccees off I65 in Alabama and we are rolling on through the night.
Finally we get to Barber Motorsports park in Leeds Alabama. Just before 9pm we get in line and get signed in. The team ahead of us is just realizing they lost a wheel off their enclosed sometime on their tow in. The way I was driving before we stopped for fuel I could have lost the car out the back like in the movie Cars and not noticed. Luckily everything seems to be in one piece, we give everything a check over and drop the trailer and head off to the hotel which is thankfully just across the street from the entrance to the track.
The next morning we are up early. No Gill this race as he has had foot surgery and is out of commission, which means we are sorely missing his cooking skills. So we take advantage of the breakfast at the hotel and head over to the track. After we unload the car we have a discussion which ends with us moving across the paddock to the far side as the side we have had for the last few years is shorter and we can't park the trailer in that area as the new trailer is about ten foot longer than the old open trailer.
After the first of two drivers meetings of the weekend (many tracks do the practice day and hold their own drivers meeting to explain their own rules, then the next day Lemons runs the race and has their drivers meeting) we load a driver in the car and send him out to practice. Rinse and repeat until we have sent all the drivers out for a few laps.
By then it is time for inspections. First off all the tech inspection. They have a big crew this race but our favorite inspector Dale Strimple is there. He's knowledgeable, affable and very popular among all the racers. Every day is also his birthday, a story best told later. He and the other tech people soon pass our car then it's time for BS tech.
We have gone all out this race for our theme. This has been a long time thought of mine, it just took a while to get it enacted. So for context I am a cancer survivor and we are always doing crazy themes to try and draw attention to the importance of early detection in cancer improving your chances. In the past we have done free colonscopy tests with huge antique cameras and motor oil for props which thankfully no one took us up on. Later we have done dinosaurs with the inflatable dino costumes to bring home the point that that "dinosaurs never got checked and now they are extinct" which is also on the side of the car. It was popular, I mean who doesn't like to see a inflatable dinosaur walking around?
Today we have again upped our game. We are taking a scene from one of the funniest movies I have ever seen, Johnny Dangerously. There's a part where Micheal Keaton's character is counseling his younger brother not to have sex until he is married, which is funny in itself because Micheals character is always surrounded by a crowd of ladies who apparently are all competing for his affections. Anyhow he shows his brother this video of all these poor guys who are suffering from poor choices that have caused them to have severely enlarged testicles. Like basketball sized. Watch it sometime, it's hilarious. So we made up special pants to hold some dodgeballs and shirts that said: "mens health is no joke, get checked before you croak!" We got a lot of attention for that and even made the wrap video. Walking in those pants with the dodgeballs was not easy!
The next day it's race day. It could not be a nicer day in Alabama. Temps are great, sun is shining. We get through the drivers meeting and line up the cars. Racerguy is going first, we are trying to balance our drivers so that everyone gets one start or one finish for the weekend. It's fun to finish the race or the day and fun to start as well.
The flag drops and we are off. It was a complete fiasco at the start! Someone oiled down half the track on the pace laps and the track was not ready when they dropped the green. It was an immediate yellow but cars where stacking up and passing then realizing the yellow was out. Race control messed up that one pretty badly. It took another ten minutes to clean the track. Finally it really is time for a start and we go green for real. Racerguy is driving smooth as always and moving up. He brings the car from 87th out of 131 cars there to a respectable 39th when the first incident happens. A car spins and hits our rf wheel. Racerguy didn't think much of it but they flagged him in anyway. While in the penalty box we realize the rf is going flat. I did not see it then but by the time we get the car up to our spot in the paddock the wheel is destroyed. We slap another wheel on and send him back out. We lost nearly all the spots we gained, dropping to 78th on the board. Sucks but it happens.
The rest of his stint goes great and he brings the car back to pit road and we put in Youngest. He is running great and the car is showing no signs of any issues from the earlier contact. He starts making up ground and we get all the way up to 54th. Then I get a radio call. "The car is on fire and stopped running!"
What?!!! I radio back asking if he needs to get out of the car. "I'm trying to decide that" Ok, maybe not such a big fire then? We have to wait for more information and in a few minutes the rollback shows up with him in the car. We have had a wiring fire from the passenger side floorboard where the stock PCM harness is. I immediately think the car is done but after Youngest gets some fresh air he jumps in and cuts all the burnt wires out and patches it all up. Start to finish we are off the track an hour and a half and drop to 90th.
I suit up and take the car out to see if it will run or not. It struggles and will only get up to 45, so I bring it right back in. Youngest thinks he knows exactly what is wrong and jumps in again and patches one more wire. I go out and the car is spot on. I start clicking off laps and trying some things the guys said to do to improve on my lap times. There's a few parts where I just need to be more aggressive and roll through and trust the car more. I pick up about four seconds off my best time and am pretty pleased by that. The car runs flawless for the rest of my stint and I bring it back to pit road for the crew to fuel and driver change. We put Manny in the car and send him out. He's running some fast laps and really pushing the car. All the sudden we realize we do not see the car going by. One of the other teams say our car is in the wall on the front stretch. Manny comes over the radio "I FUBAR'ed it" Great, The front stretch at Barber is one of the places I have noted will bite you pretty hard. I have seen a few Lemons cars get really messed up there including a 63 Valiant last year. I am expecting the worst when the roll back comes by with the car for the second time this day.
It's pretty bad. The nose is knocked sideways, the steering is all out of sorts, a closer look reveals the lf tie rod is broken. The right rear is all messed up, the wheel is pushed so far forward it is into the quarter panel and won't even turn. We put the car up on jack stands and look it over. Not good. But there's glimmers of hope. The radiator is not broke. The engine is still fine. The core of the car seems square. And we have almost an entire Miata in parts in totes in our trailer. Maybe we can fix this. I start dragging out parts and we start changing them. The tie rod on the front is soon changed and we now have both wheels pointing the same direction. Youngest takes the nose off and straightens the brackets that hold it and the splitter in place and adds a whole lot of zip ties.
On the rear it just keeps going and going deeper. We change the knuckle, the lower control arm and the upper. We spend a long time saving the bolt that goes through the lower control arm and knuckle, we do not have another. This one is bent and has questionable threads too. In true lemons never say die fashion we beat it out of the bent parts, straighten it and when we cannot find the correct die to chase the threads we use one that is close and pray it works. It does, but then we get it all back together and realize even with all the parts replaced we still have two inches of rear toe. Just a wee more than the 1/16th we started with.
Turns out the rear subframe is bent, so we all go out and start walking the pits looking to borrow a port a power. This small hydraulic jack comes with rams and other attachments and has a pump attached to a hose so you can jack and bend parts that are bent like ours. We actually end up borrowing two after searching almost every team that is still around. It's getting dark, rain is moving in after midnight and the clock is ticking on the car being done. Is it fixable or is the damage terminal? There are three guys under the car jacking and measuring and I am handing them parts and tools and making a run for food.
In a dramatic fashion, they pull it out. I run for food and they finally announce the car is perfect. I think they worked until nearly midnight, but everything they measured was on the money. It was an amazing effort and a huge comeback. We all fall into an exhausted sleep wondering if the car will drive good tomorrow or did we miss something important.
The next morning dawns and as expected its raining. And colder. I cannot emphasize enough just how wet and cold it was. All day long it rained and I think the temps dropped. Made for a miserable day, pretty sure even a duck would have been unhappy.
I go out first, I had called this stint early on. Sometimes you have to pull the car owner card. It's a two hour stint then a quiet hour then the race resumes.
We gas up the car and I line up. The car seems to drive straight, but it is raining and the track is slippery so who really knows? The car stumbles a bit on accel and I wonder if we outsmarted ourselves with our home made ram air system that sucks air from right below where the left headlight was. It keeps on doing that for a few laps then finally gets better.
Driving in the rain is not without it's challenges. You have to drive very carefully and not push the car too hard. The fun part is the Miata goes straight when you floor it so anytime I get a chance I gas it up and go hard to the next corner where I slow down and ease through it. Soon enough another issue arises. The windshield starts fogging up. It gets real bad on yellow flags where we all slow down then gets better if I have a good run at speed, but there are times a smart person would have pulled off as you cannot see much at all. But most of us aren't real smart. I can't reach the windshield or I would try to wipe it. The temptation is there to loosen the belts and get enough room to reach but even I am not that crazy. I keep the belts tight but do take off one glove and give it a few swipes under a long yellow then hasten to put the gloves back on. There's probably not much chance of a fire in these conditions but no sense chancing it. I've seen pictures of burns from race car incidents and they aren't pretty.
On one corner I make a mistake, I get off line to let a really aggressive car go by. It's the Party Girl car and they are hyper aggressive. If you would think they would wait to pass until you get through a critical part you'd be wrong, they typically will jam their car in wherever they can and go on. Other fast cars are a bit more respectful and do a better job on the give and take. Not wanting to make an issue, I get over and promptly realize there is zero grip outside on this corner and slide through the grass. I go to penalty and explain what happened. The judge asks if I learned anything, I said "Yes, next time to be a jerk" I might not have used that exact wording but I meant it. The same car also was what indirectly caused the wreck the day before, their aggressive driving was what caused Manny to get the red mist when they did the same thing passing him. He over drove the car after that and lost it. Mental note to drive them the same way going forward, we both can be hyper aggressive and see where that leads. We have a few more cars to build in the driveway if need be.
After my two hours are up, I bring the car in and explain about the terrible fogging and vision issue. Manny goes out after the quiet hour and slides off the track for black flag number two. It's just very nasty out there and cars are going off all the time. We fix up a ice scraper with a rag tied to it to give the driver a method of clearing the fog. It's primative but way better than nothing. The drivers report they used it quite a bit the rest of the day. It's just gloomy and the race is going on, but cars are hydroplaning if they get into the water which is starting to pool on parts of the track. The rest of us are watching from inside Manny's car with the heat on, it's gotten that cold and wet.
We are so far behind now we aren't bothering to suit up and go to pit lane. Rather we bring the car up to the pumps, get the driver out and fuel and put the next driver in. It's still raining and not having to get anymore wet than necessary is a plus. Racerguy gets flagged in after he's run about half his stint and he has no idea why. Apparently the cameras show what they thought was contact in the corner, he says he got real close and braked hard to avoid it. The car shows no new signs of contact. The judge tells us one more flag and he's parking us for the rest of the day. Over contact that someone thought they saw on camera that apparently never happened. (I went to look this up on our go pro footage but the chip glitched and we had no footage)
Racerguy goes out and finishes. He reports the same as Manny, the track is getting increasingly treacherous. Very few cars are getting around good, if you have a front wheel drive with skinny tires, today was your day. I saw a escort wagon running laps as fast as us and later the Dodge Caravan passed us.
Youngest goes out and after about 15 minutes I notice the lap counter is not updating. I look outside the trailer and he is in the car, sitting there. We go out and he announces he cannot drive the car anymore, it's sideways all the time. I ask if he wants to load the car and he said yes. I don't object. We race for the fun of it, and at that point none of us were having fun. We loaded in the rain and left before the race was over. Many other teams had already done the same. Some were gone before the day ever started. We have raced in the rain before but this was the worst conditions I have ever seen on the track. Barber is a top notch facility, it was just such a lingering rain and the temps being below 40 made it miserable. The vision and grip levels seemingly got worse as the day went on and the water built up and the temps dropped. We saw a lot of big problems and overcame many. Probably if we were not so exhausted from fixing the car and were in the hunt for anything we might have stayed until the end. As it were, we dropped from 65th to 67th or so. Time to rebuild and get dried out and ready for the next race.

I know this is true. If any male had the choice to become female and look completely female without anyone ever knowing they would all do it. I’m so sick of people pretending that there is gender equality. Being male is the worst thing that could ever happen to someone. Women can have children and men can’t. Females are the real humans. Men are just an extension to make their existence more convenient. No one actually likes being male. There is no God because they wouldn’t make men. They’d just make two different types of women. I still want men to exist because I’m selfish and want them around. I’m going to cut my penis and testicles off. No amount of surgery can fix my face. I was a cute girl as a teen but threw all that away because I had to feel morally right by keeping my parents together and not making their life’s any more stressful. I was naive enough to think I could transition at any age and still look female. I fucked up so bad. I literally had my perfect life and threw it all away because I wasn’t thinking straight after a suicide attempt. My parents never had the power over to me to make it so I couldn’t medically transition but they made it feel like they did. I can’t believe this was my life and I was unlucky enough to be born male.

I tied my balls up yesterday night and mastrubated. But after 3min i untied it bc didnt feel good. Not the first time like 3rd time. But now im afraid that i cut off the blood supply of my testicles.
I dont feel any pain in the testicles but i feel pain on my left hip and abdominals but i had that like a week ago.
Can someone help me clarify?

Hey everyone first time here in the subreddit. I have read some posts about puberty and how it affects your voice, however I could not find exactly what I was looking for. First of all, I have hit my puberty many years ago (aprox. 10 ish years) and the way it happened, was that I got sick and my voice was low and raspy at that time. After I got better it just stayed there. My voice dropped a lot sooner than the others. I had a deeper voice while the other boys had to wait 2-3 years. Back then I was going to music school and before my voice dropped I was told by my teachers and others in the music school that I was gifted with a voice (I hated music school back then, so this didnt matter to me much). I used to lead sing all the time as I could outperforme the girls and hit high notes with an ease. As a kid back then it didnt really made much sense for me as it felt naturally easy, so I didnt take any of the attention to my head. However, the teachers had their eyes on me and were putting all the effort into me (sorry if this sounds like a glazing story, dw I get humbled soon). After I got sick, my voice never came back to where it was, I could not hit high notes nor I could control my vocals anymore. I also lost emotion in my voice, became monotone. My vocal teacher and the other teachers at the school were telling me that it was very weird of how fast my voice dropped and were telling me to get checked up with a "vocalist" doctor (idk how they called in English) to get a check if something is up with the strings, because it wasnt normal. I of course did not do that, as I was very young and scared of the doctors and the pressure they were putting on me made me feel uncomfortable. The teachers kept on trying to "fix" my voice and tried to make me sing high notes again, however I could not hit them, I sounded horribly. Later on they tried to make me go lower, but I could not find my "voice?". After a while the teachers were getting quite upset and were just giving up on me to the point where my vocalist teacher told me that "if you want to become a great singer, you have to make sacrifices. You either cut your testicles off and get your voice up or you become nobody" lol, just heads up this was in Eastern Europe, in todays era this probably wouldnt slide off the radar. Anyways, what I'm actually trying to find here is if there is a way for me to go back? I know it has been many years since I sang, however it haunts me everytime I hear someone sing amazing and knowing that I had a gifted voice and was able to sing but then it all disappeared. I'm currently 22 as of now, and my monotone voice, I think has gotten better as where people dont bully me by saying "you sound depressed and emotionless all the time" I really wish to go back to singing as that was what made me feel myself, but I do not know if monotone voice can do it or if I should go get checked with a vocalcord doctor who probably will say its normal as it has been 10 years since. I also noticed something, which probably isnt an important factor but when I speak my own language my monotone voice is very horrible, however when I speak English it actually is nice.

Hey all! I’ve been trying out a few different options for soft tucking (i.e. flattening out the crotch for people who have a penis and testicles but don’t want them to be visible in tight clothing, without using tape or pushing the testicles into the inguinal canal).
My primary use case is wearing leggings for exercise, particularly martial arts training including Muay Thai and BJJ. I want my solution to be cheap and washable, so no single use items like menstrual pads.

About me

I'm a size M in most underwear, or a 12-14 AU in bottoms. I'm slightly fat, and moderately athletic. Trans-fem, about 1 year on HRT. Have a waist slightly narrower than my hips, and mild pelvic tilt.

Reviews

Nala

Everybody Tuck Brief

I won't spent too much time on these because they've been covered more, but they're my base layer for everything and everyday underwear. Under slightly less tight clothing they're great, and my only complaint is that the gusset is still not quite wide enough for me and my testicles like to escape if I'm wearing short shorts.
Not enough compression on their own to wear under tights without having an obvious bulge.

Everybody Tuck Gee

I was excited to try this one, but found the g-string part uncomfortable between my butt cheeks. For more money but more comfort, I prefer the Urbody equivalent, but that fails the "cheap" requirement. Effectiveness is about the same as the Tuck Brief above.

Uniqlo

AIRism Body Shaper Non-Lined Half Briefs (Smooth)

On their own, they're not enough. However, on top of the Nala Everybody Tuck Brief, after exprimenting a bit with the angle, these do a good enough job to totally hide my genital configuration under a pair of tights! I've tested with both black leggings of various thicknesses, and bright pink sparkly ones. Also great under a bodycon dress or skirt.
Wearing high-waisted tights, they don't roll down, and don't add a visible seam at the top. Wearing anything less tight at the waist, they roll down on me when I sit and stand, but the tuck still holds.
The cons are:

• they're pretty tight to get on and off,
• add slight (but not really noticeable tbh) warmth because of the extra layer,
• (this may be a pro or a con depending on the look you want) also compress the stomach and upper thighs,
• are too long to be invisible under short shorts or a micro miniskirt. Could probably be solved by cutting them shorter.

AIRism Body Shaper Non-Lined Half Briefs (Support)

Pretty much the same as above, except that they do add a seam under tights at the waist, but don't roll down with looser clother.

Kmart

Period Full Briefs

I tried these because they've been recommended on Reddit a bunch. They do help flatten a bit, but with a thicker front rather than much compression. I don't like them and find them a bit uncomfortable, but serviceable for cheap. Not sufficient under tights. I haven't tried the classic solution yet of cutting a bra pad to size and slipping it in, though!

Conclusion

For me, wearing any kind of compression tucking underwear under the Uniqlo AIRism Body Shaper has been a game changer, and cheap! The Nala underwear are $25 each and good for wearing under anything, and the Uniqlo shaper is $19 each and the two varieties cover me for most high-waisted clothing (or if I'm wearing a top that doesn't reveal midriff).
I haven't solved the problem of short shorts (testicle slip, lol) for myself yet, but might try cutting a Uniqlo shaper shorter at some point.
Please share your experiences with these or other products!

I’m wondering if this constitutes malpractice. About a year ago, I had a vasectomy at a local decently sized hospital everything seemed to go ok, nothing too far out of ordinary, other than the lidocaine didn’t seem to numb the left side too much.
I did not have an ultrasound or anything, other than just a regular physical examination during the consult for the procedure.
Fast forward a year later, I’m now having pain in my left testicle to the point I think I might have testicular torsion. I go back to this hospital to be seen in the ER, have an ultrasound done. Same urologist that done my vasectomy was the on call for the evening, which I thought was good at first.
The ultrasound was read and it noted decreased blood flow to the left testicle. The ER doctor and nurse start prepping me for surgery (mind you this is like 1 am in the morning at this point). The urologist comes in and examines me and says he doesn’t see any discoloration and what not and doesn’t feel surgery is necessary. He does however says due to liability purposes, he’s willing to do an exploratory surgery.
His demeanor came off as he was annoyed he was called in and didn’t want to be there, so I didn’t feel comfortable letting him cut on me if he didn’t want to be there, so I declined the surgery. The ER doctor and the nurse apologized for how he was and I was discharged with some antibiotics.
48 hours later, I’m still in the same amount of pain. I go to another ER, they do an ultrasound and find I have tubular ectasia, microliths in testes, vericoceles, and hypervascularation. I now have an urology appointment at the second hospital.
Does all of this constitute malpractice from the first urologist?

Constance's perspective
I was led down the passageway, by the quiet Asian submissive, Sarah Kim. Going to see the Big Man personally, Master Dave Henson. Lucky me. Probably the white prick just wants to leer at me.
Speaking of white pricks, an all too familiar voice yells "Hey, Constance, Sweetheart! Looking forward to putting more white sugar up that cute black ass, soon!"
I turn my hooded head to see that acne riddled little creep Mistress Daci pimped me out to.
Yeah, QOM has rules about that; Mistress Daci likes to ignore the rules when she can make a fast buck. She made a show of taking a wad of bills from him, right in front of my face. The Romanian bitch then made a point of fanning herself with the bills as she said "I the pimp, you the ho, Monkeybutt." laughing at me. Wicked cunt . The little creep makeshift leashed me with his belt and dragged me to a storeroom.
I tried to stay stoic, but the little creep forced me on my stomach on the filthy floor and started raping my bare black butt while choking me. Also pelting me with racist and sexist slurs. I started sobbing and begging him to at least let me breath, which made him bang my butt and choke me even harder. Instead of finishing in my ass he forced me up and shoved his dick in my mouth. I closed my eyes, tasted my own shit, and tried to angle my head and throat to let his come just run down me.
I was relieved not to see the creep again, until now. Leering at me wickedly, no surprise there. What did surprise me were the actions and reactions of my "escort". The Asian girl moved in front of me to block his view, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at my crude suitor.
He realized his mistake when the three Alpha bitches rounded on him. Probably even the tiny little Blondie could beat him in a standup fight. He knew he didn't stand a chance against all three of them, and tried to scurry off.
I heard Miss Connor say "Stop right there." In a low dangerous voice. It was gratifying to see him freeze in place, looking scared. With good reason, "Boss Bitch" taught me at our first meeting, she's more than the cute little piece of fluff she looks like. Considering this creep's feelings towards women, especially ethnic ones, it was gratifying to see the mixed race girl make him shake in his shoes.
"You're that little sneak that's always looking for an excuse to get near the set when one of my girls is naked or tied up. I've talked to you before, and your supervisors. It's fell on deaf ears, because "we're just a bunch of whores" and you fucks call our Ready Room the "Cat House" is that about right?"
He actually seemed about to answer, seems the little creep was almost as lacking in brains as consideration for women. Then he wisely clamped his mouth shut.
"I'm actually going to talk to Mr. Henson right now, I'll do my best to make sure it's your LAST Day here. If by some miracle, you keep your job, you ever come near this girl" she points at me shielded behind the Asian sub. "Or any girl under my charge again, you lose a testicle!" She held up a fist and clenched to emphasize her point.
The tough Hispanic girl took a step towards him, and it was gratifying to see him take a step back. "I got the other one, boss." Fixing homie with a big predatory smile. "Now scram you little creep!" Her grin twisted as she growled at him. The little creep wisely scurried away.
Sarah turned to me, and actually reached out to gently squeeze my right shoulder with her left. "You Ok, sweetie?" I mmmped "Yes, Miss Kim." She gave me a pretty little smile. "Miss Connor is a demanding hardass, but she takes good care of us, you'll see." She turned to our Dommes "She's ok, Miss Connor, Mistress Nora, Mistress Layla."
Our Mistresses nodded and we wordlessly started trudging to Master Dave's Office. I noticed our formation had changed some, the three Alpha's seemed to circle Sarah and I more protectively, Miss Connor in front leading, of course, Mistress Nora to our right, Mistress Vasquez to our left.
When we got to the outer reception area, Mistress Vasquez took charge of me from Sarah. Taking my leash, she led me to the far left corner. "Nose in the corner, slave, don't show your face until you're told to." the dusky Domme ordered me. I immediately stuck my face in the corner while mmmphing "Yes, Mistress Vasquez."
I heard the little Blondie saying to her sub "Just wait on the couch like a good girl. We'll call you in when we're ready for you, be a good girl." It sounded like they hugged. I thought "WTF, she's just going to be in the next room, not the next county " I guess they really were close.
So I get to stand with my nose in the corner, like I used to do to my subbies, only they used to pay me to treat them like this. I'm supposed to be getting paid, eventually. It's really starting to seem not worth it, no matter how big the payoff. I'm not into this subbie lifestyle.
Sarah and Miri chat amiably, like good friends, while I stew like a naughty little girl, ignored by the adults in the room. I may be treated a little better, for a slave, but I'm still the odd woman out, and it sucks.
Nora calls her precious Sarah in, and I'm left to stare at Dave's Tacky wallpaper while Miri quietly works at her desk. I have a lot of time to reflect on my poor life decisions that led me here.
Then I hear Mistress Vasquez command, "Slave, turn around and face me." I see the girl standing in the doorway to Dave's office hands on hips, giving me her best domme glare. I have to admit, it's pretty good. For an amateur.
So...good, I'm starting to get wet...A younger, hot dusky girl has total control of my black butt...ugh, stop. For the record, not only am I not submissive, I'm straight. Well, when I have a choice in the matter. QOM cut into my business by domming guys as well as women. My losers liked having a smorgasbord of mean bitches to top them, even a hot Ebony Goddess like me struggled to compete with them. I thought, can't beat them, why not join them? Yeah, that's working out real well for me now.
Like telling myself I'm exclusively dominant and straight, when Miss Big Booty Latina's stern glare is making me....ohhh, ohhh...so hot.
She steps out of the doorway, presumably to let me pass. "Get in here, girl, and stop two paces in front of Master Henson's desk. MARCH, slave!"
Ooh....yes, Mistress Vasquez...mmmm. Stop Constance, you can obey her without enjoying it! But a growing voice inside says, "Why not enjoy it?" I automatically obey my Hispanic Domme, knowing I can't answer the voice inside my head.
I keep my eyes straight ahead, but can't help notice everyone else is sitting down, even Sarah, no chair for me though. Mistress Vasquez orders me to stop in front of Master Henson's desk, kneel, and bow my head. I can sense Mistress Vasquez sitting almost directly behind me. Ooh, is this to better control me, or just ogle at my firm black behind? A bit of both?
Would Mistress take suggestions from her sub? It would be hot if I had a collar and leash on, that Mistress Vasquez tugged at, occasionally...
My horny, dismaying lesbo thoughts are interrupted by a smooth, powerful, masculine voice. "Actually, Miss Anderson, please raise your head and look at me, I like to look in the eyes of whom I'm talking to. Miss Vasquez please remove her hood and ungag your sub, you know how I like looking at pretty faces."
As I raise my head to look at him. "Her sub"? Have they made a decision? Do I belong to Mistress Vasquez now? I should be mad at these dirty lesbos trading me like a little subbie. Should. But my butt as the personal property of Miss Latina Bombshell? My pussy gets that familiar throb of pleasure...oh....
Stop, Constance! Focus on the matter at hand. I really looked at "Master Dave" for the first time. Late forties to mid fifties, executive type, still fit and handsome, if graying. Kind of reminds me of some of my clients, you'd be surprised at how many white boy senior management types like to be whipped by a black bitch behind closed doors. The difference is despite his calm demeanor, this man exudes power and control.
And makes my wet pussy even more...damn. A room with three Alpha females, and it's clear this white man is the rooster of this little hen house. Or the cock...mmmm. Fuck, Constance, you picked a helluva day to explore your submissive side.
I try to focus on what he's saying as Mistress Vasquez removes my hood and gag. I want to hate this smug white prick, but just his voice is making me wet. Ooooh.
"Miss Anderson, I feel I've been remiss in not introducing myself personally sooner; though I understand a woman of your reputation and acumen in our "business" might be a little dismayed at your abrupt role reversal." Despite my arousal by him I think "No shit, honkey!" I stay silent despite being ungagged.
"I'm sure you understand, in your role, there is a lot of business that doesn't concern you, like the visit by Mistress Ariana Cromwell, I'm sure you've heard the name before?" First question ungagged, hope I do well. I nod my head and say "Yes, Master Henson." No correction from Mistress Vasquez, my heart leaps, why is part of me so eager to please her? I mentally kick myself.
"Your dommes, especially Miss Vasquez, will prepare you and instruct you on how you will present yourself to her, if that becomes necessary. Understood?" I nod my head again "Yes, Master Henson." This guy should do ASMR's, his voice is so smooth and hypnotic.
"Which brings us to our next order of business. Your Mistress Daci is somewhat taken with our Mary, she wants to have some one on one time with her to train her to be a better sub. She reached out through Mistress Kealoha, who agrees Mary needs more training, and you deserve a bit of a break, they give you high praise as a good slave."
"All five of us discussed it and agreed, my girls would like to swap you for Mary, at least for a couple of weeks, we all know being Mistress Daci's sub is rough, but you've done well. We all concur with Mistress Stacy, you deserve a slightly easier time."
Was I being turned over to the "Powder Puffs"? That was one of the derisive names QOM's crew had for the Perseverance women. Both sides were cordial and professional working together. After hours Mistress Daci and a few of the more bullish dykes derided them as silly, cock loving "Femmes".
Yeah, I just learned first hand that these girls were no joke and strict dommes. But compared to the QOM crew, they were like a hutch of the playboy bunnies. Another derisive term QOM's crew tagged them behind their backs, of course.
"I want to make sure you're amenable to all this, Miss Anderson. I'm sure you know by now my girls are no slouches, but they're probably a nice break from your lovely Miss Stoica and the rest of her crew."
Was he kidding? Getting whacked with rolled up scripts and a few nipple flicks beat being jerked around and even slugged by that wicked bitch Daci. Even the clamps and clit leashes Mistress Nora liked to use on Girl Mary, especially if I'm protected from being SA'd, were tolerable.
"Also, before you say yes, Miss Vasquez put in a request with Sheila and I to be your domme. Though she has shown admirable natural talent, she'd like to have a girl of her own to train and mold, and you would be perfect at this time. Nora is amenable, as she already has a well trained sub in Sarah, she thinks Mistress Vasquez deserve a turn."
How about it, Miss Anderson? Unless you really want to stay with your Mistress Daci..."
Not only do I get to stay with the "Powder Puffs" but the Sexy Big Butt Latina girl is going to be my domme! Hog heaven.
Calm down, Constance, a well disciplined Subbie doesn't disrespect her betters with unseemly excitement. "Master Henson, I accept. I will be a model submissive for Mistress Vasquez, and accept all her guidance and direction for me." Traitor Vag, stop getting wet....stop it!
Master Henson nodded. "I believe you will, your record as a domme is impressive...until you messed with the Queen of Mean. We all make mistakes. Put all your effort into being as good a sub, and I'll have a glowing reference for you at the end of this project, count on it."
"One word of caution. You not only have to obey Mistress Vasquez, you have three sets of slavegirl eyes watching you, one former, two current. They will help keep you in line if you fall off, I'm sure they'd love to give "extra" attention to a former domme, if she needs it. This isn't to humiliate you, but to inform you."
It was humiliating...and still fucking making me wet. Three former slave girls to keep my ebony ass in line, I really was their little bottom bitch. Same with QOM, except these girls have a lighter touch, and they were actually protective of me when it counted! Could I grow to like being lez submissive under the lighter touch of the bunnies? Mixed feelings all around.
Master Henson said "One final matter before I dismiss Sarah and yourself. My ladies made me aware of that rude young man who harassed you, I assure you he will be terminated, effective immediately. I do not tolerate the abuse or harassment of my performers, the lovely Sheila took me to task for being lax in that area when this project started."
"But my ladies are concerned, they feel what that young cad said to you indicated he might have done something to you in the past. If he did, and you want to pursue criminal charges, we'll support you Constance. I'll leave it up to you, take a few moments to think about it."
It was a tough call, I started to chew my lip, then stopped myself, not "model submissive" behavior. I wanted that little creep, and Daci, if possible to face consequences. But working in the sex and fetish industry for so long, I knew the odds of Daci, and even that little turd, facing consequeces were slim to none, slim being on vacation. And I'd still be in a submissive position to her or at least her colleagues as long as I worked here. I believe Dave and his ladies would try to protect me...but. But oddly enough, I was already starting to like them...I couldn't saddle them with my problems, not now. I tried to quickly come up with a plausible story for them...
Mary's perspective
So I'm back at the Queen Of Mean's main compound, supposedly only for the night. She wasted no time in having me bitchsuited, hooded and ballgagged. I'm resting on my elbows and knees next to Mistress Dacia lounging in a bean bag chair.
Suddenly she puts a phone under my nose. WTF. "You need to see this PAWG, it's important, you see, we spend more time together my big ass baby girl!"
I noticed Master Dave's name pop up, and instantly the phone had my full attention.
David Henson: Miss Kealoha, Miss Anderson was fully amenable to all our terms and conditions. My ladies will be taking charge of her, with her assigned as the personal slave of Miss Layla Vasquez.
Wtf, Dave? What about me? I was about to find out.
Stacey Kealoha: Daci will be so excited, she really has a crush on your Girl Mary, she's excited to have a white slave of her own. I know your concerned about her roughness with subs, I promise I'll talk to her.
I knew that bitch wasn't going to do anything, she was just blowing smoke. Dave , wake up, you know that to, how can you abandon me like this? The rest of the girls, even Sarah, can't hate me that much? Can they?
Dave Henson: We'll be addressing that tomorrow in Conference Room two at 1000. I want QOM, you, and the rest of your leadership there. An incident today has me concerned for any submissives under your control. It may be nothing, but I want to be sure of that. Our crews have different ways of domming sometimes, but on my property all subs are safe from outside assault and harassment.
Stacy Kealoha: I understand your concern, Master Henson. I know Daci and some of our younger dommes can be a little to rough for your tastes sometimes, but we're still working with them to develop good domme skills. We'll develop a plan to assure you Mary, Constance and any subs we bring in are safe and well taken care of.
Dave Henson: I hope so. The war storyline has our ratings flying higher then the first season, and that's saying something. I want to ensure we can continue our mutually profitable endeavour while making sure all our performers are safe. I appreciate your cooperation my little 🏝️ sweetheart
Stacy Kealoha: Oh, Davey, this is supposedly a professional chat, you old haole stud! But seriously, we'll get to the bottom of this and make sure all our subs are safe, going forward. 💋
Dave Henson: I know, sweetie. 💋 Bye
Stacey Kealoha: Aloha, baby!
The flirty banter between my lover and master and the Pacific Island girl do not fill me with confidence. I didn't think things could get worse for me. They have gotten much worse.
A loud painful barehand smack to my barebutt refocuses my gloomy reverie.
"Poor, poor Girl Mary, her Master no want her anymore, and her little perfumey girlie friends no like her either. Girl Constance get to snuggle with your cute little bunnies! They so cute, Daci like a snuggle sometimes, too."
"But, Girl Mary, now we get so much time together, my cute little Fat Ass Girl! I get to train my little PAWG so good! Rougher then the cute little perfumey fems, but we have more fun, Girl Mary! You see!"
As I stare at the last flirty exchange between Master Dave and Mistress Stacy, my heart sinks. I'm going to be doing a lot of things with the Eastern Europe Domme, fun isn't one of them.
https://www.reddit.com/BDSMerotica/s/SVmuVAi6ny Part 6

So, me and a good buddy of mine, Hog Meat, were out in the middle of Mothman River fishin for channel cats in my old john boat. All of a sudden this most foul and putrid stench permeated the air around us. It were one of them REALLY bad stanks too, like the kind that makes yer eyes sting and get all watery. I immediately suspected that the smell’s genesis was in old Hog’s drawers, as he had been muchin on a truck stop burrito made up of goat and cheese and washing it down with Papst beer.
“Goddamn it, Hog!!! You gotta warn a fella before you go ripping muddy nukes in your drawers!!! That bout made me puke, you dirty sumbitch!!”, I said. But old Hog Meat just turned to me and said, “It weren’t me.” I retorted, “The hell it wasn’t, you no good sumbitch!!”, and picked up the paddle so I could crack his skull.
Just then came a blood curdling scream from the ridge above the river. Instantly, I knew what it was. It were one of them goddamn sasquatch!! Them sumbitches are known to inhabit this here valley, and they put off an odor that would make the Reverend Wilson slap his momma! That sumbitchin, mangy motherfucker must be up thar on that ridge spyin on us, I thought to myself.
See, them old sasquatch put off a putrid odor. That’s how you knowd they is in the vicinity. Some folks say it is some sort of furmoan they put off as some sort of self-defense mechanism. Or, it could be a wet old fart emanating from their hairy nethers from all of the rotten shit they eat. Or, it could just be that they don’t bathe. Whatever it be, it smells like microwaved dog shit!!
Well, we kept on fishing. I figured, “Fuck that damned old mangy beast!! He is not gonna fuck up my Monday fishing. I layed outa work down at the saw mill just so I could go fishin.” But if’n it moves closer or starts throwing rocks at us, then I would have to whip out my .44 magum and cut down on its ass. That is when the second toe curling scream erupted.
It was like “HOOWOOOOOWOWOWOOOOOWWWWWWOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!”
Then it dawned on me. That weren’t no damned sasquatch. Old Hog Meat turned to look at me. We both knew something was off with that second scream. He said, “I don’t reckon that thar is one of them boogers. I think that is ….a…” Then I cut him off and completed his sentence, “Dogman!”
Even the word “dogman” sends chills up and down my spine. It am is a big old mangy mutt that looks like a wolf. They can be all black, or gray, or shit-stained brown. They stand up on their two hind legs and walk just like a man! They got them long ears that stands straight up on their haids with frilly little tufts of hair standing on the ends of them. They got them big old ferocious teeth, and glowing yellow eyes! They got no front legs. Instead, they gots them some arms and hands that looks like a tyrannosaurus rex! You know, thar hands kind of dangle out in front of them like some sort of fairy.
Those dogmen motherfuckers are pure evil! They ain’t good fer shit! Take sasquatch, for example. At least when you murder one of those monsters you can carve it up and slow cook it fer a couple of weeks and eat it. But them dogmen, shit, they is uneatable. When I kill one of them thar dogmen I usually just take em off and throw their corpses in a ditch on the side of the road. I tried burning their bodies at one time, but the smoke from the fire made me hallucinate. The last time I inhaled the smoke I wandered around butt-ass naked in the woods fer 2 solid weeks thinking I was Jesus Christ for squirrels. When I finally came to, I was down thar in Wendigo General Hospital. They found me in front of the Dairy Queen making love to a VW bug in the parking lot. They carted me on down to the hospital. They told me I was foaming at the mouth and dug 11 pine cones out of my ass. That were sum fucked up shit right thar! But I digress. Now, back to the story at hand.
Hog Meat had already unpacked his AR-10 rifle, apparently preparing to defend hisself. I said, “Hog Meat, put that damn shootin iron away, you shit head! Everbody knows that dogman don’t attack nobody when the sun is out! They wait fer dark. That old fuck is jest gonna pace around on the ridge top, howling and making an ass outa hisself until it gets dark. Then – and only then – he will skulk down to the water’s edge and make his attempt to murder us. But listen to me. By then we will be long gone!”
This made old Hog Meat feel better. It was about 2:00 pm at the time. I said, “Let’s just fish fer a couple more hours, then leave at 4:00 pm. The sun don’t set til 6:00 pm, and by then we will be back at my trailer cleaning these here catfish and sipping shine!” Hog Meat agreed, saying “Damn, son, you is right! Fuck that damned old dogfuck. Let’s git to fishin!”. I nodded in agreement.
Well, over the next couple hours we heard that sumbitch up there on the ridge, stalking around, back and forth, and occasionally howling. I am thinking to myself, “Shit fire!! What kind of hunter can this here dogman critter really be if it lets it prey know where it is at like this? What a fucking asshole!” But anyway, it did not matter none. We will be long gone soon enough. Then that old monster dog will have to be content to dine on road kill. Serves him right!!
Well, the next couple of hours the fishing REALLY turned on. We soon passed our limit of fish, but kept on a’fishin’ anyway. Fuck them game wardens!! Ha ha!! We was gonna have us enuff meat to put in the freezer! We just popped open a few more beers and kept fishing. Then, something terrible happened.
Hog Meat said, “Hey, I hate to break it to you, dude, but we are out of beer.” He looked at me, and I looked back at him. Then I spoke. “Goddamn it! I can’t fish without drinking beer!! I was so pissed that I picked up the boat paddle and flung it into the river. Next, I grabbed the tackle box and was about to sling it into the drink too, but Hog Meat stopped me just in time.
“Whoa!! Calm down, dude! It’s ok. It’s ok! I got something even better than beer!”, he said. My eyes grew bright and wide in anticipation. I asked, “You got some blow?!?!” Old Hog Meat shook his head no, then proceeded to pull out a half gallon of Jack Daniels. At first I was not very impressed. “Oh, its that fancy smancy, high-filutting store bought whiskey. Oh well, I guess if that is all you got …”, I said.
So we kept on fishing, passing the bottle back and forth between us. After a while passed we had filled up every stringer we had and every ice bucket we dun brung with us with catfish. We had to start throwing them down on the floor of the boat. But after a bit even that became ridiculous. It looked like it was bout time to stop fishin. “Well, hell, I guess we got to call it a day and git to skinning these here fish”, I said. Old Hog Meat was drunker than a drunk-ass skunk. Me, sure I was a little buzzed by the time we finished that bottle of store-bought hooch. But for the most part, I was fine. That damned old store licker ain’t high-proof enuff to twist my testicles, if you know what I mean. I decided to pull up the anchor.
As I was busy doing that, old Hog Meat had pulled out his AR-10 again and was blasting away at ducks flying by. I screamed, “WATCH IT! GODDAMN IT!! THOSE SHOTS ARE GOING RIGHT BY MY HEAD!!!!” He laughed and put the rifle down. “Fuck face!”, I said.
As I was bout ready to crank up the old Evinrude for the ride back to the boat ramp, old Hog Meat got a really serious look on his face. I figured he needed to shit. But that was not it. Instead, with a quivery voice Hog Meat said “What the fuck happened?!?” I said, “You is drunk! That is what fucking happint. You need to pull yerself together, brains-fer-shit!”
“No!! Look around!! It’s … dark! What happened?!?!?!”, he said. I replied, “It’s called night, motherfucker!! It’s what happens after the fucking sun goes down!!!.
Then it hit me. There’s a fucking dogman in the woods. After cypherin on this here predicament fer a moment I realized that the boat ramp was on the same side of the river as that infernal dogman. Hog Meat, now clutching his rifle, knowd it too. “Well, goddamn it!!! You forgot about that goddamned dogman in the woods, you hooch swilling sumbitch!!!!”, I said to Hog Meat.
“ME?!?!? What about YOU!!!!! You forgot it too!!! And you is the smart one!!!”, protested Hog Meat. He was right. I have about 30 IQ points on the old boy. Afterall, old Hog Meat still can’t figure out how his phone knows to ring right at the exact moment someone decides to call him. “It’s like it’s designed to do that, er something”, he says.
Well sir, we high tailed it to the landing. I told Hog Meat that I would load the boat on the trailer and that he had to stand guard with his rifle while I was doing that. Then we would dive into my truck get our asses outa there. He agreed.
When we got to the landing everything was going like clockwork. I was busy loading the boat and Hog Meat was standing guard like a champ. We was all loaded up and ready to skedaddle when headlights from on oncoming vehicle approached. Hog Meat got all excited. “IT’S THE DOGMAN!!!”, he yelled. I replied, “Shut the fuck up! Dogman don’t drive no truck, dumbass!”
In fact, it weren’t the dogman. It was the game warden. He got out of his green truck and walked over to us. “Hey thar”, he said. “Ya’ll been doin sum fishing out on the river today?” We said that we had, and then he asked to look in the boat. There were more than our legal limits just lying on the floor of the boat, and many, MANY more on stringers and in coolers. The warden said, “Well, it looks like you two boys had a good day on the river. But I hate to tell ya’ll this, but you is about to have a shitty night, cuz I is taking ya’ll to jail for poaching catfish!”
“Aww shit!”, I said. Hog Meat asked the warden if he could just let us off with a warning this one time. This seemed to rub the game warden the wrong way, as he pulled out his baton and started beating the shit out of old Hog Meat while telling him that you can’t catch and keep 300 “fucking catfish in one day of fishing!”
Then it happened. Quicker than the human eye can see, that damned old dogman shot out of the woods and flew by the warden, taking off his head with his razor sharp claws as he passed!!! Then it came by for another pass, scooped up the headless body, and took off with it into the woods. Then he, and the warden, were gone! Hog Meat was standing there in disbelief. I said to him, “Git in the goddamned truck, Hog Meat!! Let’s git outa here!!” Hog Meat hastily complied, and off we went!
The ride home was quiet. We were both a little bit in shock from what we had just witnessed at the landing. Finally, I reached into the glovebox and took out a Slayer cassette and put it into my truck’s tape player. The gentle shred calmed my nerves.
When we got back to my place, old Hog Meat looked like he was gonna puke. He started ambling off to his truck, as if to leave. “Where in the fuck do you think you are going?”, I asked. He turned and looked at me with a blank stare. It was as if his soul had left his body. “Git your fat ass over here and start helping me clean all these fish, fuckhead!”, I demanded. After a moment, he did as I said. He knowd I would throw a good beating down on his ass if he did not.
In about a half hour we wuz armpit deep in fish guts. Old Hog Meat looked over at me sheepishly and asked if we should tell someone what happened back at the landing, perhaps even call the police. I picked up a whole catfish and smacked Hog Meat over his head with it. “Fuck face, are you dumber than a dick?!?! Ain’t nobody gonna believe us if we tell them. The way I see it, that damned old dogman did us a real solid tonight. We got away with our hide and all of our fish!!! Otherwise, we would both be in the pokey tonight, cuddling with ‘Big Jim’ in lock up. Now shut yer yap and git to work!”
We finished up and called it a night at around 2:00 a.m. Hog Meat went home and I settled in with a nice jar of shine. Old Hog Meat was never the same after that night. He started staying to hisself and stayed real quiet around others. I reckon he dun up and got hisself a case of the dogman pussies.

I've just noticed a weird pattern that exists in the Law of Moses:

Deuteronomy 23:1 -- No one whose testicles are crushed or whose male organ is cut off shall enter the assembly of the Lord.
Leviticus 21:16-20 -- And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “Speak to Aaron, saying, None of your offspring throughout their generations who has a blemish may approach to offer the bread of his God. For no one who has a blemish shall draw near, a man blind or lame, or one who has a mutilated face or a limb too long, or a man who has an injured foot or an injured hand, or a hunchback or a dwarf or a man with a defect in his sight or an itching disease or scabs or crushed testicles.
Leviticus 22:24-25 -- Any animal that has its testicles bruised or crushed or torn or cut you shall not offer to the Lord; you shall not do it within your land, neither shall you offer as the bread of your God any such animals gotten from a foreigner. Since there is a blemish in them, because of their mutilation, they will not be accepted for you.
Deuteronomy 25:11-12 -- When men fight with one another and the wife of the one draws near to rescue her husband from the hand of him who is beating him and puts out her hand and seizes him by the private parts, then you shall cut off her hand. Your eye shall have no pity.

Does anyone have any insight into what exactly is going on here? Why were crushed testicles such a serious concern in Mosaic Law?
​

“Well, ya see, up in here in the southern Appalachians we got us 2 kinds of Sasquatch. We got us them great old big ape types like Patty that get up to 15 feet or more tall. Then we gets the smaller chimp-like foots that usually only reach 7-8 feet tall. These chimp-squatch, though, be sum dangerous sumbitches because they is inbred. That makes them crazy as hell.”
“Most the Sasquatch up here in Sasquatch Hollar are the Patty types. Lots of pudwhackers think these only out in the Pacific Northwest. That ain’t true. They is everwhar.”
“Sum people fuck up the identification of critters they see. For example, lots of folks see bars and thinks they is Sasquatch. They’s are dumbasses. Then sumtimes people sees them old swarthy dogmen bastards and think they dun seen a Sasquatch. This shit happens a lot. It is well known that here in these Appalachian Mountains, dawgman outnumber Sasquatch 3 to 1.”
“Then ya got the assorted monsters, ghosts, and goblins that run around in the woods at night. People see all sorts of shit and jest assume it’s a big old Sasquatch. But 9 times outa 10 it ain’t.”
“Now, I been quarreling with Sasquatch since I wuz 5 years old. Ya see, my pappy took me down to the crick one day to do sum catfishin. Like any boy that age, I got bored after about 5 minutes and wandered off to smoke a cigarette and have a drink from my old Sippy flask. As I wuz walking through them woods I started hearing sum weird shit. It sounded like sumthang squeaking and grunting. I decided to investigate. I walked a little way toward the noise then stopped at a big old bush. Whatever wuz making the noise, it wuz jest on the other side of that bush!”
“Though I wuz only the young and tender age of 5, I carried a big-ass buck knife with a 10” blade. I whipped that sumbitchin blade out and then pulled back the bush to find the source of the weird noise.”
“Thar it stood. A big old gnarly Bigfoot. It wuz at least 13’ tall, and it had its hairy wang in its hand jacking off. It stopped abusing hisself as soon at it seen me, jest sorta standing thar with big eyes knowin it had been caught. I did not know what the fuck that thang wuz. But, I knew that in that first moment of shock and stillness that my life depended upon me acting decisively. I immediately slashed downward with my knife and cut off that thang’s dinosauric wang!”
“That thar beast immediately fell to its knees and let out a blood curdling scream. I hauled ass back to my pappy. When I found him he wuz passed out on the crick bank with an empty jar of shine layin on the ground next to him. I tried to rouse him but it twernt no use. He wuz out like a light! I knew pappy carried a 1911 pistol in his tackle box so I got it out. Pappy always carried cocked and locked.”
“Well, it wuz about that time that the old dickless Bigfoot came a’haulin ass through the woods like a bulldozer. It wuz in a rip-roaring rage. Well, sir, I climbed up in a big old oak tree to hide from the beast. Once I wuz in position, that sumbitch came stomping up to the side of the crick. It still had its severed dick in its hand while its other hand wuz holding onto his cock wound.”
“Then It spied pappy. I thought, “HOLY TAP-DANCING CHRIST!! THAT SUMBITCH GONNA KILL PAPPY!!” I jumped into action, diving from my lofty perch and down onto the old critter’s neck. I put the gun barrel right up to that bastard’s head, but afore I culd pull the trigger the animal lurched and I dropped pappy’s gun!! It plopped down into the crick. So then I pulled out my big old knife. SSSUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPP!!! I slashed that motherfucker’s throat wide open. It fell down, with me on top of it. It started spewing blood and hacking like it wuz struggling fer air. After a couple minutes of gurgling sounds, that old fucker got real still and died...like a bitch.”
“Well, it wuz about that time that my pappy woke up. He noticed that his tackle box had been gone through. Then he turned around and saw me standing next to this huge Sasquatch, holding a knife and covered in blood. Pappy staggered over to me and sed, ‘Where da fuk my .45?’ I told him I accidentally dropped it in the creek while fighting the Bigfoot. Old pappy hauled off and smacked the shit out of me. Then he made me retrieve his pistol and carve off sum Bigfoot ham fer dinner.”
“So, ya see, I been doing battle with these smelly beasts since I were knee-high to a $10 whore in stilettos. Here in Sasquatch Hollar, they is thicker than cockroaches in a Chinese vittles barn. I is always blasting those motherfuckers!”
“Then one day, I reckin back in 1982, I stumbled across a new kind of Bigfoot creature. It twere about 3:00 am one morning. I had be screwing the Thrasher sisters, all 3 of ‘em. I had em in my bed and we wuz all sleeping after having us the super bowl of sex. These here girls are all sisters in town. They all had, well, issues. Brandy wuz 20 at the time. She were smoking hot with a tight little body. But she was a mute; couldn’t speak a lick. Her twin sister, Serena only had one leg. The other one wuz accidentally cut off during a chainsaw fight with her pappy. Then there wuz sweet little Linda Lou. Sweet little Linda wuz a real looker. Too bad she wuz missing her left eye. She lost it in a knife fight that erupted after an illegal dog fight when the house wouldn’t pay up. She thought the house was stiffing her, allegations started flying, things got heated, knives were pulled, and you know the rest.”
“So, I gots these 3 cuties in my bed: one wuz a mute, one wuz missin a leg, and the other wuz a’missing an eye. I lured them all back to my place from their jobs at the Dairy Queen with promises of shine and meth. They wuz all addicts, ya know. I gave each one a hit out behind the DQ, then loaded ‘em up in my wagon and headed back to Sasquatch Hollar.”
“Now, it wuz a long haul. I had my mule, Old Betsy, pulling that thar wagon. It would be about a five hour ride anyway, but on that particular day Old Betsy had a broke leg. A nasty old Sasquatch got ahold of her and tried to run off with her. During the melee, it dun broke one of her legs. Poor old gal. Ya see, I wuz gonna put her outa her misery, but I got me a powerful hankering for a DQ Blizzard and decided to see if I could get one more run to town out of her before I sent her to the great beyond.”
“Now, Old Betsy performed like a champ! She made it all the way down and off that mountain and to the edge of town before the bone in her leg started poking out her skin sideways. She hooted and hollared, but I kept whipping the shit out of her and jest kept on a’going. She wuz a fine animal!”
“So me and the DQ bitches wuz jest barely out of the parking lot when one of Old Betsy’s good legs gave out. I heard me a loud ‘SNAP!’, then the old girl went down, face first into the asphalt. I sed ‘Gall darn it! What in tarnation?!?!’ Well, Sir, I climbed down off my wagon and inspected the situation. It seems that Old Betsy, being the good old girl she wuz, wuz shifting her weight to offset fer her broken laig. She obviously overloaded and caused the break.”
“Them old DQ whores started squalling and crying at the sight of the mangled mule. I told them to shut the fuck up before I mangled them. When I dun seen what the problem were, I knelt down, patted Old Betsy on her head, and sed ‘Well, old girl, I guess the next time I’ll be seeing ya will be when you are pulling my wagon in Hell. Praise Satan.’ Then I made the sign of Baphomet with my right hand.”
“The whores were watching me intently, which is why they let out a big shriek when I whipped out my .44 magum and splattered poor Old Betsy’s brains all over the road. Those bitches went to wailing, so I pointed my pistol at them and told them to ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP!’”
By this time traffic wuz startin to back up cuz my wagon wuz blocking a lane. I told the one-eyed whore to get down off my wagon and direct traffic while I unhooked the dead mule. Well, she promptly jumped down off the wagon with purpose. I wuz not used to a woman doing what I told her to do the first time. I find that about 90% of women have problems hearing. So, when old One-Eye landed next to me I punched her right square in her face. She went down like a sack of taters!”
“When she climbed to her feet she asked me why I punched her. Scratching my head, I replied ‘I don’t rightly know. I guess you must be one of the 10% of women without hearing problems and I wuz jest kind of acting out of instinct. I jest wuz not expecting you to do what I told ya the first time. Now, get to work directing traffic, bitch!!’ Again, she obeyed. I thought, ‘Damn. I might have to keep that bitch around.’ Then I turned my attention to the matter at hand: getting my goddamn wagon home.”
“I told the other two bitches to get off the wagon and to help me push it back into the DQ parking lot. This time I waited to see if they would obey like their sister dun. To my shock and disbelief they did. I asked them, ‘Who obedience trained you bitches?’ Old One-Leg sed ‘Our dad dun did it. He taught me to kiss too. Want to see what he taught me?’ I sed ‘Later, you dumb slut! I gots to figure on how to git my wagon back home to Sasquatch Hollar.”
“Well about this time, the owner of the DQ came running out of the joint, yelling at me to move my wagon because it wuz blocking his customers from getting out of the DQ parking lot. He wuz yellin at the bitches to get back inside and get to work waiting on his customers. Then he got all up in my face, saying ‘You got to move that hillbilly contraption RIGHT NOW, or I am going to call the POLICE!!!’ I asked him, ‘And jest who the fuck is you?’ He sed his name was Bob Patel.”
“So thar I wuz. My fucking mule wuz dead. My wagon wuz stuck in the road. I had me three disabled and horny whores ready to smoke meth and fuck, and now I had me a swarthy Pakistani prick up in my face. I had had enough. I narrowed my eyes, looked at Patel, and sed, ‘You motherfuckers hid Osama Bin Laden’. His eyes widened. I grabbed him around the collar, pulled out my .44 magum, and brutally pistol whipped that sumbitch right thar in his parking lot. He must have been a real asshole too, cuz them DQ bitches were cheering me on. When I wuz dun, that sum bitch had to crawl back into his shitty DQ, leaving behind a trail of blood, piss, and shit.”
“The mute bitch started trying to tell One-Leg something. It sounded like she had a mouth full of peanut butter and jizz. Then One-Leg sed, ‘She is trying to tell us sumthang to help.’ The wagon wuz way too big and heavy fer me to push out of the road. So, flustered as a tick on a dick, I looked at the dumb bitch and asked ‘What?’, expecting sum sort of dumbass response. She sed, ‘Daddy let us drive his truck to work today. Why don’t we hook up your wagon to his truck and then you can haul it home with that?’ I wuz dumbfounded. This wuz actually a good idea.”
“Guarded, I asked One-Leg what kind of truck she got. She sed an F-350. I paused. Then I thought ...’Goddamn...I have struck gold here.’ I sed, ‘You 3 bitches are absolute ANGELS!’ They all smiled in appreciation of my praise.”
“Thereafter, I pulled the truck around, got the wagon hitched up to it, and got the rig ready to go. The traffic jam got to be too unruly fer Old One-Eye, so I whipped out my .44 magum and dispersed the crowd. Then I told the bitches to get in the truck cuz we wuz high-tailing it to Sasquatch Hollar.”
“Right about then Old Sheriff came a rolling up in his car, lights on a siren wailing. When dipshit Patel saw Sheriff, he came running outside the DQ to meet him. ‘Goddamn it, if’n it ain’t one thang it’s another’, I sed. I whipped out my .44 magum and blew the fucking siren right off the top of Old Sheriff’s car. BAM!!!!”
“Sheriff got out and looked at the empty spot where his siren used to be. He sed ‘Awww damn, Roy! Why did you have to go and do that?!?! Now I’m gonna have to ask the county to buy me a new one.” I told Sheriff to shut up. Old Patel wuz battered and bruised all over. He wuz crying to the Sheriff about my wagon blocking his parking lot and the savage pistol whipping I inflicted upon him.”
“Sheriff hushed up Patel, looked at me, and asked, ‘Now, Roy, what’s really going on here?’ I sed, ‘That Patel feller there grabbed my cock. I felt threatened and marginalized, so I defended myself the only way I knew how.” Patel exploded at my accusation. I told Sheriff, ‘See that? He’s got a right nasty temper on him. That’s the way with them thar Muslims.’”
“Old Sheriff narrowed his eyes and slowly turned his head toward Patel, as he released the safety strap on the holster of his service weapon. Sheriff asked Patel, ‘Is that right? Are you a Muslim, boy?’ Patel wuz pissed. ‘I am no fucking Muslim, you asshole!!! I am Hindu, and I’m from India, not Pakistan!! You are racist. Both of you!! You are both racist!!!’, sed Patel.”
“I leaned over Sheriff and sed ‘Ask old Patel here if he has accepted Jesus Christ as his lord and savior.’ Patel heard what I sed. Sheriff asked ‘....Well, have you, boy?’ Patel sed ‘WHAT?!?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! I AM HINDU, ARE YOU REALLY THIS IGNORANT?!?! OF COURSE I HAVE NOT ACCEPTED ...’ Then came the gunshots BOOM!!! BOOM!!! BLAMM!!!! The foreigner hit the ground with a thud.”
“I sed, ‘Damn, Sheriff, your aim is gettin better! It only took ya 3 shots at point blank range to take down THIS perp!’ Sheriff asked, ‘What are we gonna do with him?’ I sed ‘That’s yer problem, Sheriff. I gots to get back to Sasquatch Hollar and fuck these here whores in the truck. We is about to have the sexual Special Olympics back at my place.’ Sheriff looked distraught.”
“I decided to throw Old Sheriff a bone. I sed, ‘Ok, looky here, Sheriff. Here’s what ya do. Set that DQ on fire and burn it to the ground. Call the feds and tell them you caught old Habib here in a terror plot to blow up the Cracker Barrel, and that all yer evidence got burnt up in the DQ fire HE started.’ Sheriff looked hopeful and asked, ‘Do you really think that will work?’ I sed ‘I don’t give a fuck. Just dump him down in Sasquatch Creek per usual. I’ve got to go git my dick wet!’ Then I wuz off.”
“So me and the girls were a humpin’ it down the highway in their daddy’s truck with my wagon in tow, headed fer Sasquatch Hollar. I figured it would be a very tight fit down the trail fer this F-350 after we got off the road. I might bang and dent the fuck outa this thang. Fact is, if’n I can even git the truck to my cabin, it prolly ain’t leaving the woods. Even it it’s in any condition to travel back, I figure I will jest steal it.’
“The bitches had already entered the foreplay stage of our encounter. One-Eye had my old whoopin’ stick out and slobbering all over it. The Mute wuz leaning over her and fondling my scrotum sack. And I wuz fondling One-Leg’s perky little wine-glass titties. Then I had a thought. I bet these girls’ daddy would have a shit-fit if’n he knew I wuz molesting his girls in HIS truck. Heh heh heh!!!! Now, mind ya, all 3 of these girls were over 18 years of age. Still, once daddy’s girl, always daddy’s girl.”
“Curiosity got the best of me. I jest had to know. I asked ‘Hey girls, you sed this here truck belongs to yer daddy?’ One-Eye removed my pud from her mouth and sed ‘Yep, this is daddy’s truck.’ Then I asked, ‘Who is yer daddy?’ Old One-Eye sed, ‘William Perkins’.
“ I thought, ‘Oh shit. That’s Old “Will Bill From Hawkinsville”!! That’s a crazy sumbitch! He has dun prison time for raping a Chevy Malibu! What’s even worse is that I used to fuck Old Wild Bill’s wife while he wuz off in prison. What wuz that....15-20 years ago? If’n I remember right, that bitch’s name wuz ‘Alex’. I remember her name distinctly because it wuz a dude’s name. But thar wuz no dudeness about her. She wuz SMOKING HOT and could handle the timber better than Old Mark McGwire on the roids!!’
“Still, I had to be certain there’s nothing unseemly going on here. Holding my breath, I asked ‘What’s your momma’s name?’ One-Leg spoke up, and with a grin on her face sed ‘momma’. I backhanded the shit out of her, and she went flying over and landed on the mute. Then Good Old One-Eye, the Einstein of the group, again removed my whoopin’ stick from her mouth and sed ‘Momma’s name is soooo beautiful. It’s “Alexandria”. I thought, ‘WHEWWWWWWW!!!! That wuz fucking CLOSE!!!’”
“Well, me and the girls made it back to Sasquatch Hollar in record time (compared to a mule-drawn wagon). I got my wagon home in fine shape. But that fucking truck is wider than the wagon and lost both front fenders, all doors, and both side panels off the bed. I’m also pretty sure it sustained some damage to the front axel when we splashed down into Dogman Creek. One-Eye sed ‘Daddy ain’t gonna be none too happy about his truck.’ I told her to jest tell her pappy that negroes stole it from them at the DQ.”
“Now, at this point me and the girls went inside my cabin and started Imbibing, smoking, and fornicating. I will not get into all the gross mechanics of what exactly transpired therein, cuz that ain’t really essential to this here story. Jest be assured that several laws were violated that day, including God’s laws, man’s laws, and the laws of physics.”
“This leads me back to whar I wuz. All 4 of us wuz piled upon on my bed, laying all over each other ... naked, spent, exhausted, and sticky. I wuz awakened by the sound of a scuffle out back behind my cabin. I could tell from the grunting and thumping footsteps that Sasquatch were involved. I didn’t want to crawl my ass out of bed this early and go out in the freezing night to break up sum fucking Bigfoot gangbang. But, if I didn’t then they may get to rough housing and tear up my shed or rape my tractor or sum mess. So I crawled outa bed and put on my overalls. I did not have to worry about waking up the girls cuz I dun shot them up with enuff sweet H that a nuclear blast weren’t waking them up.”
“Ya see, as fun as these here girls were, I knew they wuz gonna be trying to hang around Casa De Roy fer more candy. I can’t have that. So I dun made sum arrangements to get them outa here. A business associate I will call ‘Carlos’ is supposed to be at my cabin at sunrise to take possession of each of the unconscious girls. He is gonna take them off to sum shit hole foreign country and make them sex slaves. He’s giving me $500.00 a head fer these girls! That’s what I call a Win-Win situation!”
“So back to my story, thar is sum kind of struggle happening in back of my cabin and I thinks it involves sum Sasquatches. I got dressed, grabbed my old AR-10 rifle, and headed out back to investigate, castigate, and seal sum fate.”
“I snuck around my cabin slowly. I needed to do sum recon so I could see what exactly wuz a’going on. When I cleared the side of my cabin I immediately saw movement next to the chicken house. First I thought sum sumbitchin Bigfoot wuz trying to steal my chickens. Then I snapped on the flashlight attached to my AR rifle. It appeared that 3 big old Sasquatch wuz gang raping the fourth, which wuz being held down by one of the other 3. The 3 rapist Bigfoot immediately stood, showed their teeth to me then growled. They was telling me that they wuz pissed and wuz looking fer trouble.”
“My rifle was already raised and on standby while I kept the three beasts in the light. The rape victim squatch jest layed thar moaning. The big 3 ambled into attack formation, like they was ready to attack old Roy. If I did not act decisively and quickly, I’d be dun fer!”
“BAM-BAM-BAM!!!!! Three head shots in quick succession and they wuz all dead. ‘I’m gonna be eatin good fer the next few days’, I thought. Then I thought about the raped squatch. I raised my gun, with my light trained on its face. A wave of shock and disbelief filled me at what I saw.”
“This ain’t no ordinary Bigfoot here. She wuz very human looking. Yeah, she wuz hairy and smelled bad. Her face wuz... almost cute. And she had her some C-cup titties. Now, I would never lie with a beast. But, this one made me question my rule. She looked jest like a bitch, but bigger and hairier.”
“When I approached the thing she started shrieking and pushing away. Clearly, she wuz afraid of me. I shone my light up and down her supple squatch bod. I reckon it wuz 6 ft tall. It had the curvy figure of Kathy Ireland and the facial structure of Sandy Bullock. Again, though, she wuz covered in hair. I thought to myself that sech a thang could come in handy after sex cuz you could use its hair to wipe off yer dick before taking a piss.”
“Then I thought, ‘SHEEYIT!!!!’ and punched myself in the nuts! I had to tell myself that it wuz a beast and that I ought not be having these impure thoughts of beastiality. ‘Hold it together, you sumbitch! Keep yer dick in yer pants!!’, I told myself. Then I punched myself in the balls again. This time I puked from the punch.”
“I decided that instead of executing this critter I would keep it and nurse it back to health. I thought it wuz the least I could do. I knew the girls were inside and that it would still be a little while until ‘Carlos’ came to collect the bitches. So I had to keep this lil fem-squatch under wraps. I grabbed a spare noose I had laying around, put it around the critters neck, and dragged her into my old shed, whar I tied it up and gagged it with duct tape. Then, jest to show it who’s boss, I punched it in the gut, from which it let out an audible ‘OOF!’ Then I left it alone.”
“I did not want to get back into bed with the comatose bitches, so I set down in front of the old fire and lit me up a nice Montecristo Cuban. Old Castro’s brother still sends me a box ever Christmas in appreciation fer me doing sum werk fer them back in 1962. I sat and smoked, as I sipped sum rye whiskey frum a jug. My mind kept wandering back to that feminine beast out in my shed. ‘Damn, she sure is sexy’, I thought. DAMN IT !!!!!! I punched myself in the balls again. BOOFFFF!!!!”
“At sum point I dozed off to sleep. I wuz awakened by a knocking on my door. BAM BAM BAM!!! I looked at the clock on my wall and it said ‘8:45 am’. I sed, ‘Goddamnit, Carlos!! You can’t count on those fucking be#ners to be on time fer their own funeral.’ I stomped over to the door, cussing all the way.”
“Opening the door, I am saying ‘Carlos, you rotten sumbitch ...!’ Only it was not Carlos. It wuz the Sheriff, who excitedly sed ‘Roy! We got us a problem. You ‘member that brown sumbitch from Iran that run the Dairy Queen in town? The FBI says they aren’t believing he is a terrorist! What are we gonna do, Roy?!?’ I immediately reached out and grabbed Sheriff’s nut sacks with my right hand, wrenched them violently 180 degrees, pulled them forward into the door frame, and then slammed the door on them!”
“Old Sheriff let out a HORRIFIC, high-pitch screech, then passed out on my front porch. ‘Shit’, I thought. ‘What am I gonna do with this prick?’ Then I wondered if I could sell him to Carlos along with the girls. Hmmmmmm... Nah, no woman could hate herself THAT much to want to screw that fat fuck.”
“I decided to drag old Sheriff out to the shed, tie him up, and gag him so he would not be an eyewitness to the crimes against humanity I wuz about to commit. As soon as I opened the shed door all hell broke loose. There wuz whining and thrashing and banging about. I looked into the direction of the noise and saw the Sasquatch bound and gagged, but pissed and trying to get loose. ‘SHIT!! I fergot about THAT sumbitch!!’, I sed. Then I got me a shovel and banged the shit out of it over its head. That quieted her down! Then, as she lay there on her belly convulsing, I looked at its quivering Sasquatch butt and thought ‘NICE!!!’ Then I punched myself in the sack again.”
“I hog-tied and gagged that sumbitch Sheriff and left him lying on the floor. By the time I made it back up to the house I found that rotten cocksucker, Carlos, standing on my front porch and smoking a cigarette. He sed ‘Heeeeyyyyyy, Gringo! You got my ladies? Heh heh heh?’, then he stomped out his cigarette on my front porch. I looked down at the cigarette butt and then up at Carlos. I pointed at it and sed ‘Pick up that shit, asshole! Where the fuck do ya’ll think you are? Mexico? FUCK!!!’ Carlos obliged.”
“I noticed that Carlos came alone. I asked him how in the hell is he going to carry 3 unconscious bitches 5 miles through the woods. He sed, ‘Well, uh, you know, amigo, I thought you would help.’ I sed ‘SHEEYIT! Once you pay fer them whores, they is yours. But I guess fer an extra $50.00 I can be convinced to sell ya a wheelbarrow you can use.’ This made Carlos happy. Those little fuckers are practically born in a wheelbarrow with a leaf blower in hand. I told Carlos to go grab the bitches outa my bedroom whilst I go fetch the wheelbarrow.”
“When I got back to the front of the house with the wheelbarrow, old Carlos wuz still standing on my front porch but there wuz no bitches. I asked ‘Do you want me to drag those bitches out here fer ya too, you lazy sumbitch!’ Carlos looked displeased. He sed ‘Hey, man. What the fuck you trying to pull on me, man?’ I told him to get fucked. But then he explained to me that we had a problem.”
“Apparently, when I shot them whores up with H, I over-dosed them, cuz they were all dead. I sed, ‘Well, sheeyit, Carlos. I guess I went and fucked up.’ Then Carlos explained that his clientele would usually be ok with dead chicks, but that they would not fetch as much as a live one. I sed ‘I reckon I can understand that, Carlos.’ BUT, the problem Carlos had is that THESE dead chicks were disabled.”
“We finally struck a deal. Carlos gave me $50.00 fer that thar wheelbarrow, $100.00 fer the dead mute, and $25.00 each fer the other 2 dead bitches. He sed he could prolly sell ‘em fer their teeth and double his money. Fer being a good sport, I sent old Carlos off with a jar of shine and some slow-roasted Sasquatch butt roast. He wuz plum tickled pink as he headed off down the trail, pushing the 3 dead bitches in his new wheelbarrow.”
“Now it wuz time to go inspect that cute lil old squatch I had locked up in the shed. This is where shit started gettin weird. When I got into the shed, I found that there Sasquatch on top of old Sheriff, grinding on him. ‘GIT THE HELL OFF SHERIFF, YOU COTTON PICKIN BABOON!’, I yelled. Well, Sir, that thang jumped up and ran over into the corner. It wuz still tied up except fer it’s legs. Sheriff wuz not only still tied up, but he wuz STILL unconscious. ‘SHERIFF!! GIT THE FUCK UP, YA LAZY BUM!!’, I yelled.”
“Well, it wuz about that time that the lady Sasquatch ripped free of the rest of the rope bounding it up. ‘Sheeeeeeyit...’, I thought. Sheriff wuz jest coming around as I cut him loose. ‘Get the fuck up, fat ass!’, I commanded. I then sed ‘Gimme yer gun’. Sheriff sed, ‘Now, Roy, you know I can’t do that. That’s my service weapon. I can’t jest ...’ .... then BOOM!!! I punched him square in the tubulars and he dropped to the ground. The Bigfoot started going ape shit, screaming and roaring, and smashing shit.”
“I reached down and grabbed Sheriff’s pistol, aimed at the Sasquatch’s head, and fired. ‘Pop!’ I thought ‘What in the hell?!?’ I looked at the weapon. It wuz a god damned little .32 auto. ‘PUSSY SHIT!’, I sed, then tossed the little gun away. I then leaned down to Sheriff and sed ‘You ain’t worth a shit, you know that?’ Sheriff sed ‘Oh, Roy, don’t say that. We’re friends.’ I scoffed and looked fer another weapon.”
“The squatch wuz now at bat-shit crazy level, and I could tell it wuz about to charge. I quickly glanced around my shed. Then I spotted it: my Stihl chainsaw! Without a second to spare, I snatched up that saw and pulled the cord. It roared to life jest as the beast charged!’ BUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!”
“The thang charged me. I jabbed the running chainsaw into its belly, revved her up, and made my incision. The squatch, stunned, stopped. Then with pressure added and more revving, I cut upward and did not stop until I had sliced that sumbitch in half, from its belly all the way up through its entire head. Sasquatch blood and innards went everwhere, coating the inside of my old shed. The beast wuz dead and I got me sum more meat fer the ice box!!”
“As I wuz a’cleaning that booger later in the day (I had to take Sheriff home after we found his testicles) I wuz able to take stock of her. As I mentioned at first, we got us 2 kinds of Sasquatch up in here in Sasquatch Hollar: the big ape, Patty Type, and the smaller chimp type. This one wuz a might different.”
“This thang, I reckon, wuz sum kind of cromag, or caveman, descendant. The placement of its bones (like knee joints and elbows) and overall proportions were more man than ape. I have heard of these thangs, kind of look like a Neanderthal critter. They’s been talk of these here thangs being common in Russia. But we apparently got em here in the states too.”
“Nonetheless, that strange looking squatch cooked up right nice. It wuz a little tough and stringy Like Sasquatch meat. But it wuz not near as gamey. That lil sumbitch was right edible!”

Hi everyone, I know the title is ambiguous - just like my 2yr. pain journey has been so far. I'll start at the beginning and try to be short...
July 2022 - pain in pelvis/lower abdomen came on during a family vacation. It subsided after a few days. I have had a varicocele for decades prior and up until that point any pain I'd associated with that would typically go away after sitting for a few minutes. No relief like that this time, though I still considered the pain emanating from that condition (testicular pain, reaching up to lower abdomen - kicked in the balls kind of feeling all the time) My biggest observation with this instance was that it lasted for days, and when I masturbated after it felt really strange - like my body had to relearn the sensations or something. I'd also been noticing needing to pee a lot, and much less flow/satisfaction during urinating. (Not completely emptying I believe) I wonder if 'excessive' masturbation had been a cause so I lay off on that for a bit (prior daily weekday sessions, lasting up to one hour - sometimes more than one session)
Throughout the remainder of the year, I had various bouts of similar multi-day pain.
Dec 2022 - saw my general Dr. for annual physical. He found a PSA of 7.6 and referred to urologist. Prostate was considered larger than normal. Followup PSA test weeks later it was 8.5 and we then did a prostate biopsy. 12 samples all came back negative. Diagnosed with BPH, on paper at least.
Multi-day bouts of pain continued to come and go, and there was always a 'not right' feeling in my abdomen/pelvis.
Had multiple ultrasounds, and eventual CT scan during this time to discover bilateral inguinal hernias. Had them repaired June 2023. The pain remained post-hernia recovery, and would seem to come about more often.
Sept 2023 - Followup PSA come in at 11.0 or so! I'd mentioned I'd engaged in masturbation recently, and had just come off a 3-day mtn biking trip. Decided to PSA test again a few weeks later and it was back down to 8.13
The pain persists however and cycling is uncomfortable. Feel like something is in my pelvis, or inflamed. The act of lifting my left leg applies pressure and irritates the area even more. Discuss with urologist and I decide to address the varicocele as a potential source of the pain.
March 2024 had varicocele embolization/repair. Varicocele seems gone (been 6 weeks or so now) and procedure is considered a success. The testicular issues related to that seem to have subsided. (bag of worms is gone, testicle less tender, libido seems up - I observe more night time erections) However the pelvic/abdominal pain it still there. I'm aware there may be more recovery time to go with the varicocele repair but the fact is the pain is still there, and seems to be getting worse which is striking more concern.
April 2024 - seeing new uro and ran PSA test with a result of 6.7 now. Prostate still enlarged and he orders a prostate MRI. Findings indicate more investigation (pi-rads 3 score) so I'm now headed for a Fusion Biopsy in a few weeks.
So... while we are following up this path, and I'd been labeled with BPH pretty much - I do wonder if prostatitis could be/have been a possibility? I have noted since the pain started 2 years ago my ejaculate seems more yellow than I recall. There's plenty of it but it's not white like I seem to recall. ED is a factor as well as premature ejaculation, which I'm just letting fly now - no edging or prolonging the session. I do seem to correlate some relief post-ejaculation? I'm not sure any of the blood or urine work I've had looks for specific bacteria linked to prostatitis. I also understand from the 101 here it seems a low percentage of prostatitis is caused by bacteria? Nonetheless I wonder if I should be asking specifically about tests for prostatitis next time I see my uro. I feel I should mention the times during the past years where I'd been given an antibiotic prior to, or during a medical procedure, I tend to feel pretty good/ok during the days surrounding that.
I've recently starting trying to eat better, and hydrate more. Taking a D3+K2 vitamin supplement and I've cut daily alcohol (weekends only, 1 or 2 beers a day) and stopped smoking/vaping weed.
sorry for the long read, I appreciate anyone who has read this far and may have some insight.

My vasectomy journey is complete. I am posting this here for anyone in the future who may google any of these things, and because my vasectomy experience has been pretty unique. Plus I was unable to find some of this information myself. This will be a huge post, so I will post a TLDR at the end. Skip to to the end if you only want a quick explanation.
I began my vasectomy experience at the end of August, last year. I was 40, married, and I have three beautiful children. At my first consultation that doc couldn't locate my left vas deferens. He suggested I come back and see the other doctor who had more experience. A few weeks later I did that and that doctor couldn't locate my left vas deferens either. He suggested I get a sonogram. Thankfully I could get that done right then and there. The sonogram confirmed what he was thinking. I have a very rare birth defect where I am missing a kidney. The kidneys form from the same material and place as the vas deferens at development. You can be missing one vas deferens and one kidney, or even both vas deferens, which is more common than only missing the one. I believe this condition hasn't been studied extensively, but it has been associated with also having cystic fibrosis. At least certainly in men who are missing both vas deferens. This urologist was younger than me, but he said he had never encountered someone like me, only read about it, and it was fascinating. But he also suggested we hold off for a little and that I should first find a way to be tested for cystic fibrosis which had been associated with absence of the vas deferens. GREAT. Obviously I left feeling deflated and in a little bit of shock. It's not everyday you find out at 40 you have been missing a kidney your whole life.
For anyone who doesn't know, cystic fibrosis affects the cells that produce mucus, sweat, and digestive juices in your body and lungs. It causes these fluids to become thick and sticky. They then plug up tubes, ducts, and passageways and often means early death.
Trying to find out how and where to be tested for cystic fibrosis was an awful experience. My general doctor was of no help at all. She didn't know much about cystic fibrosis or how to test for it. She suggested I contact Johns Hopkins. I called the cystic fibrosis foundation, Walter Reed in D.C. and Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. I got a circle of automatic messages, transfers, hangups and answering machines. After getting nowhere I just left a message at Johns Hopkins. After about nearly two weeks someone from Johns Hopkins got back with me. They provided me with a test code for doing a blood test at Labcorp, but they could not provide a referral. That needed to come from my general doctor. I later found out that test wasn't the ideal first test to do. But I somehow eventually got the extensive blood work done after dealing with referrals and Labcorp not sure how to submit the cystic fibrosis (CF) test in the computer.
The blood test looks at your DNA for the hundreds of possible different mutations that are found in people with CF. And it takes about a month to complete. You typically get CF when both of your parents are carriers of the mutation, or one has it fully. Since 2010 every state in the US now screens for CF in infants after birth. My wife and I contacted our pediatrician to see if our children had been screened for it, and they had.
After a month of waiting I finally received the results, which confirmed what I had already knew. I was 40, had never experienced typical symptoms of CF, and my DNA test showed I did not carry the mutation.
Again the absence of both vas deferens is a strong indicator of having CF, the absence of only one I do not believe is, but more study is needed.
I believe this was now November, I didn't have CF, I needed to finally schedule my vasectomy, but the end and beginning of the year were incredibly busy for me. I decided on the beginning of February. It was scheduled for February 2nd. I bought some fancy support underwear but wasn't sure how much I liked them. So the morning of the procedure I went out to Walmart and bought some classic "tighty whiteys".
One good thing about only having one vas deferens is that I only had to have the procedure done on one side! My experience with the procedure it's self was pretty easy going. Two seconds of intense pain and five seconds of strong pressure, and then not really anything. Lots of adrenaline though having someone work on your balls. My procedure was a small cut on the side of my right testicle, and I asked the doc to not use a metal clamp. I don't really know the exact details, but I was cauterized.
After the procedure I took two ibuprofen, and drove myself home. I experienced no pain, no swelling and no bruising. Only very minor discomfort, which was the most on days 4 and 5. On day 6 I only wore the tight fitting underwear during the day, going back to loose boxers while sleeping. My balls thanked me for this. I believe day 7 I removed the last of my stitch, which actually looked like it was impairing healing. After two weeks the incision was mostly healed. After 4 weeks it was completely healed.
I waited I believe 8 days before my first orgasm after the procedure. I had no pain or blood. It did seem much more watery than before though. After 3 months the consistency and look of it had gradually returned to now being identical to as before the procedure.
One thing I had not expected or thought about before having a vasectomy was how it would effect my thinking afterwards. It briefly negatively effected sex and orgasm for me. I found my mind drifting during sex to thinking about the procedure, how things were now "different down there". Before I would have been laser focused on my wife and being in the moment. For a little bit it really diminished the pleasure of the act and even ruined orgasm for me. During all this time I'd been reading and searching this subreddit. I've read tons of post of people's experiences on here. A reoccurring thing I read on here was that a lot of the issues people had had were mental. I have tried to keep this in mind while encountering my own issues.
Another thing I had not expected was feeling a little sad that I would never experience having a newborn, buying newborn clothes, and watching another child develop during those early days and months.
BUT then my three kids I have started screaming at one another at the top of their lungs, crying, and I am suddenly reminded of why I wanted to get a vasectomy in the first place!
In the three months since having a vasectomy I have fully healed, with only occasional slight tenderness on my right testicle. I had had a total of about 60 orgasms, in preparation of the post semen analysis at 12 weeks. That was a lot of work for this, now, 41 year old. I am typically not THAT "active".
I had my post semen analysis at Labcorp. Contacting Labcorp I was told that only one location in my state of Maryland performed that. After contacting that location the nice lady explained to me that that used to be true when they performed a "full" semen analysis that required testing within an hour of orgasm. No Labcorp's do this full testing now. You can only do the semen analysis that only looks for sperm, which has no time limit. So no full fertility testing. Only post vasectomy testing. That was fine because that is what I needed anyways. And you can "provide" a sample at any Labcorp location. Just bring the provided cup with your sample and drop it off. That was awesome because I could go to the nearest location to my home.
It took two days for Labcorp to provide my results. After just shy of 12 weeks, and 60ish orgasms, my sample revealed no sperm. My vasectomy is now complete. And this journey ends with this post. I will add that any mental challenges I was having are gone. I have tried to remind myself of why I originally wanted a vasectomy in the first place. When having sex with my wife I focus on the moment. I focus on the enjoyment of it all. And I now focus on the thought of worry free sex and orgasm. Sex and orgasm has completely returned to how it was before having a vasectomy, being amazing. Our mind and our thoughts can be incredibly powerful things and can do some funny things to us. Hopefully my words can help reassure anyone who is reading this and having doubts or regret with their own vasectomy and having any of these post issues.
TLDR: To wrap up this incredibly long post, I learned I have a very rare defect where I only have one vas deferens, and one kidney, which could have been a sign of having Cystic Fibrosis. Testing revealed I do not. My vasectomy was "no big deal" with me having no pain, no swelling and no bruising. Complete healing after 4 weeks. After 12 weeks and 60ish orgasms you can provide your post semen analysis "sample" at any Labcorp location and get a result in about 2 days. Which for me was an all clear! I'm now incredibly happy to be past this entire experience.
Thanks for reading and I hope for anyone reading this now or in the future, it provides some helpful information for you!
Good luck!

32 y/o Male.
To preface, this has been happening off and on for a year or two now with certain foods. (But can’t recall exactly which ones.)
Most recently, I had pizza in the late evening on Wednesday. I’ve always suspected I might have developed a milk sensitivity in my 30’s, but I wanted to indulge as I’ve mostly cut dairy out otherwise.
The next morning on Thursday, I’m at work and around lunch time I start to have the most excruciating abdominal/large intestine pain. Deep pain that keeps feeling sharp like I’m being stabbed and twisted in my lower abdomen. I had to brace the shelf next to me at points when it would happen. It lasted for maybe 2 hours happening off and on throughout that time. During this pain I also was having deep aches in my testicles? And lower back pain too.
Then that afternoon, my first bowel movement is super fiber-like semi-brown spottings of poop. The next morning (36 hours after the pizza) my next bowel movement was nothing but white bubbly liquid. Then another bowel movement later that day (40 hours after the pizza) with nothing but clear foamy bubble froth. Now I’m at 48 hours since having the pizza and I just had another bowel movement of nothing but clear bubbly froth.
I’ve been having this happen off and on for maybe 2 years now? And my guess would be that maybe I have a dairy allergy? But I know I can have baked goods with milk and I’m fine, and even having some chocolate and I’m fine. But pizza seems to consistently cause hell, and I know that it has happened with other foods too, but I can’t remember specifically what.
I also get random sharp pains that seem to be emanating from my colon? Like really fast sharp stabs. I usually feel one quick stab of pain and it makes me jump like hell and sometimes it makes me keel over sometimes and I have to grab something. These sharp pains in my colon don’t always seem to happen in relation to food, it seems random. But I could totally be wrong.
Should I be looking into more than just food allergies? IBS maybe? Get a colonoscopy?

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Transcription Subject: Maarten de Groot, Human Refugee/Meat dealer
Date [standardized human time]: February 22, 2137
“♫Money, money, money. It must be funny in the rich man’s world. ♪”
I sang the classical song in old English as we entered Gilt’s house, having just made another delivery to HF. I had taken out the stack of bills that we had received for our delivery, and started to count them while walking towards the couch.
“Can you not sing that stupid song for once? We’re working for Humanity First. They tied us up, threatened us, double-crossed us, and you’re singing about their blood money.” I can’t blame Gilt for being angry, I am too, I just prefer to ignore it and focus on the good side -money.
Gilt angrily sat down at the combination kitchen table and lab and began analysing something under a microscope.
I had been working here nearly daily. Ever since we started to increase production, Gilt has been needing help. There is too much to do for one venlil, they tend to get tired a lot faster than a human does, and they can’t carry as much either. I had decided to clean some of his house as well, removing the stains from the floor and washing the remaining windows, allowing vastly more natural light in. Gilt said it was a waste of time, but I think he secretly likes it. The place looks a bit homey now, even with half the ground floor being taken up by an illegal lab. Our partnership has gotten better as well, but he’s still very distant with me, not wanting to show any more emotion then happiness or anger.
I sat down on my spot on the couch to start counting out the money so I could split it equally when I heard the crunching sound of paper. I stood up and sat down again and heard the same crunching sound. Is he hiding his money under the couch cushions? I expected better of him…Wait, why the fuck would I do that? Lifting up the cushion revealed a large pile of bills. The one on the top was placed sideways and had crumpled under my weight. I read one bill after another using my holopad’s visual translator. Electricity, water, health insurance, car insurance, the list went on and on, many demanding a fee for the late pay. How much money does he owe? “Gilt, what the fuck is this?” I said, waving one of the bills from across the room.
He looked up, still a bit agitated from the previous conversation. He squinted for a moment, trying to read the text from the distance before realizing what I was holding. “It’s none of your business!”
“Fuck you, it’s my business, this is literally our business. What the hell will happen if you continue not paying these bills? What if they cut the water or electricity, how are we then going to produce anything? I don’t think HF will be happy if we stop supplying. Or what if they kick down your door for repossession, they will see all of this,” I yelled, gesturing to all the barrels and vats full of nutrient paste and muscle stem cells.
“WELL I... didn’t tell you, because I don’t know how to fix it.” His shoulders, ears and tail slumped. He looked rather ashamed.
“What, why not? We make shit loads of cash everyday.”
“Yes, cash. You can’t pay the bills with cash, you need to make a bank transaction, I can’t just go to the electric company with a stack of money.”
“Can’t you just deposit into your bank account?”
“No you idio- no you can’t, how do you think it would look if I suddenly deposited thousands of credits? I go from someone who hasn’t worked for over a decade to suddenly having that amount of money, how am I going to explain that?” He seemed to actively try and calm himself down.
“How did you do it before then? Back when you were a drug cook.”
“I didn’t, I worked under a boss who took care of all of that.” He huffed. “It was quite clever, he started a company that delivered fresh fruit. But not all deliveries were fruit, some were drugs, and because the packages were sealed, not even the delivery boys were aware of what we sold.” He walked over to the couch, sat on his spot, and grabbed one of the bills. “Not smart enough though, we pretended to sell far more food then we actually bought. One smart inspector noticed this discrepancy between what came in and what went out, and before I knew it, I was arrested together with my lab crew, and one short trial later I ended up in you-know-where…” He just stared at the papers, lost in thought.
“So is that it, are you going to let everything go to ruin because of the past?”
He quickly sat upright and his sad look quickly disappeared, replaced with determination. “No, I simply don’t know how to do this, money laundering that is. There are too many problems to solve.”
“Alright, let’s do this one problem at the time, before you actually become a filthy homeless man.”
His ears folded back in anger. “I’m not…!” He took a deep breath and dragged his hands over his face. “They all revolve around the fact that we have to start a company. That way we can pretend we earned all of this black money legitimately and can turn it white.”
“Can’t we just open a store, buy a bunch of stuff, shelve some, label it all, perhaps have an employee…” This all requires a lot more work than I thought, if only we had some corrupt lawyer who could help us.
“No, no, that’s where it went wrong with my previous job, we can’t pretend to sell more stuff then we buy in, or they will notice the discrepancy.”
“How about a restaurant?”
“That’s a terrible idea, we would have to buy a ton of food, just so we can pretend we sold…all...of…that.” His words slowed down as I noticed his right eye focusing on the large pile of produce we had stacked up against a wall, ready to be turned into nutrient paste for the meat. “You’re a genius! We open a restaurant, and all we have to do is claim we sold all of this, we can even buy it in bulk.”
“And we can use it as a tax write off. Just because we’re going to be paying taxes doesn't mean we can’t try and lower it.”
“That does leave us with 2 problems however. We need someone stupid enough to not know that the company is there for money laundering, despite the business hardly pulling any customers yet staying open.”
“We could hire Earl.” He would probably love running a restaurant. I can already imagine him greeting a random customer in his terribly pronounced venlilian.
“What, no, we’re not going to hire a human, and especially not Earl. What idiot would hire a human to work in a restaurant? The place would instantly get shut down by the food inspectors, or perhaps even the exterminators.” Yeah, that was a dumb idea, even hiring a human as cook would be ridiculous and a recipe for a disaster.
“What about Havek?” He already knows Gilt and would be loyal, although he’s a nervous wreck.
“No, he can’t keep his mouth shut, and he thinks the exterminators are there to help him.”
“I’ll post something on a job searching site, I’m sure we’ll find someone. We both went to enough interviews to know how to do one. What’s the last problem?”
“This is the biggest one, we have to find someone willing to rent out a storefront to a human and an ex-PD patient.” I scratched behind my head, trying to come up with a plan. I took a good look at Gilt’s body; it was covered in scars, many so big that the fur doesn’t even cover them. The fur itself was visibly greasy and matted, and the once fully white fur was filled with stains of food and alcohol. “Hey, why are you looking at me like that?”
“I think I got an idea. I’ll find us a place to rent, and I’ll make sure the owner will surely want to rent it out to you.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
Transcription Subject: Maarten de Groot, Human Refugee/Meat dealer
Date [standardized human time]: February 23, 2137
I helped myself into Gilt’s house with the spare key he reluctantly had given to me, only to be met with an angry Gilt. “What is this?!” He threw an already opened package at me. I am pretty sure that he aimed for my head, but I had to lean and take a step forward to actually catch it.
“Oh good, my package arrived. They’re exterminator badges.” I’m used to Gilt’s anger by now and just let it happen.
“I know what they are. Why would you order such a thing?” His tail whipped left and right, agitated and letting me know that he was a lot more angry then he is normally. Alright, he means it, I have to explain this carefully.
“We’re going to need these for the interview tomorrow with the landlord, so we can get the lease.” I took one out of the box and inspected it; it was a shield shaped piece of metal with a symbol on the front and a magnet on the back, allowing it to be clipped onto a fireproof suit or fur.
“How are you planning on using that to convince the landlord to giving us a lease?” The tone he gave sounded almost like he felt betrayed. That can’t be, he doesn’t trust anyone.
“Because right now, you’re a filthy ex-PD patient.” Before he could get angry, I stepped towards him, and even though he leaned back, he allowed me to clip the badge onto a larger piece of matted fur on his chest. “But now, you’re a filthy exterminator veteran. He’ll surely like you more like this.”
“I’m not going to pretend to be an exterminator, they were the ones who locked me up!”
“It’s only for an hour or so, and after that you can be your crazy self again.”
“Okay…why did you let it get sent to my house anyway?”
“Because no one is going to send their dead grandpa’s exterminator medals to an address in the refugee housing for pred- humans. I bought 3 of them by the way, one for a thousand confirmed kills, another for 25 years of service, and the third badge of honour, because apparently you can burn animals honourably.” I laughed at my own morbid joke; Gilt, on the other hand, couldn’t find this situation any less amusing. He pulled the badge off the patch of matted fur, and winced from the tug. “This is part 1 of my plan to get us that lease, you’re not going to like part 2.”
“Just spit it out already.”
“You know how I said you looked like a filthy exterminator veteran? Well, perhaps we should drop the filthy part.”
“Oooh no, I’m not going to…You’re not…” His eyes went fully walleyed, and he fully blanked out.
“Hey, hey, snap out of it! Or don’t, then cleaning you will be much easier.” That last part did it, and his eyes focused once more on me. I grabbed the bag I had brought with me. “I have a few things that will make it all easier. 3 bottles of extra strong anti-tangle shampoo, 2 scrubbers, stain remover for fur, a whole bunch of different types of combs, a waterproof electric clipper just in case, and a rubber ducky to calm you down.” I loaded everything back into the bag and saw Gilt staring at me in disbelief. “Alright, I can’t believe I have to say this to an adult man, but please work with me, I have to put you in the bath.”
“Oh no, no, no, not you too.” He stood in the middle of the room, his body frozen in what in what I believed to be fear.
“Gilt, I am not going to hurt you, this is for your own good. Now if you don’t mind, I have to start disassembling your hydrogen production thingy you built into the bath tub.”
“Hydrogen is extremely flammable, you can’t disassemble that alone, it’s too dangerous!”
“Well, I guess I have to be careful then.” Please buy into my bullshit. He chased after me as I walked up the stairs. The upstairs was always a lot cleaner, albeit still very dusty though, or at least it was until I decided to do something about it on a slow day. There were 3 bedrooms, one for junk, another is permanently locked, and Gilt’s. Gilt’s bedroom mostly contained a bed and a closet. I wasn’t allowed to enter his room, but the one time I secretly did, I saw a couple of photos hanging on the wall. They were all of venlil I didn’t recognize, all except for one; a much younger and happier looking Gilt, completely clean and scarless. There was also an attic, but that was mostly filled with old junk that was never thrown away, like baby toys and old furniture.
The hydrogen production Gilt has to fuel is car is built into his bath tub, he had explained to me how it works. A couple of live electrical wires ran into the water and cause the water to split into oxygen and hydrogen. The 2 elements are then each pulled into a separate part of the tub. The 2 sides are separated almost completely by a sheet of metal that nearly reaches the bottom. The right side is that of the hydrogen, and is completely sealed off above the water, ending in a rusty pump that pumps the element into a gas tank. The left side is only covered by a sheet of wood, seemingly for no reason. Wait the left side is big enough for Gilt to fit into, we don’t even have to dissemble this whole mess, I just have to turn the power off.
“Good news, we don’t have to dissemble this, you can fit into the oxygen side.” His ears were down in sorrow and he took a step back. “Look, I know you’re scared of water, but you know it’s just a silly fear right?”
“I-I’m not scared.” He lifted his ears and tail, trying to make himself appear more confident.
“Last week you nearly crashed your car when it suddenly started to rain. That was also the only time you didn’t accompany me during a delivery, because you didn’t want to walk through the rain. You even came along every time we delivered to HF, yet you refused to when it rained.” I grabbed a cup of water and brought it to him. “Alright, let’s start off slow.”
He lowered his head and suddenly slammed it into me. A massive pang of pain rushed through me. I dropped the cup, fell onto my knees, and then onto my side, all the while covering the part he just rammed into. “Aaaagh, what the fuck was that for!?” I yelled in an octave higher then I want to admit.
“You were going to pour water onto me!” The cup of water had missed him by a hair, and he was now standing besides the puddle, still in front of me.
“I was going to let you put your hand into it, at your own pace. And why did you have to hit me there?”
“It’s only your crotch, I didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”
“’Not hurt so much?’ You headbutt me right into my bloody balls!”
“Your what?”
“My…” Still laying on the floor, I looked up at Gilt’s Ken-doll like crotch. Right… “My testicles, I thought you would know human anatomy considering the amount of time you spend on the human internet.”
“I’m not you, I don’t look that stuff up.”
“Half the internet is covered in it, you have to put in effort to never see a naked body.” I pushed myself up from the floor, and to my surprise Gilt aided me. “Ball pain or not, I still need to wash you.”
“I really don’t want to.” For once, he didn’t attempt to hide his fear or other vulnerable emotions. He looked scared and sad. Fuck, he’s really not ready, I can’t force this on him.
“You still need to look presentable though. I suppose we have to comb all those mats out and hope it looks good enough.”
The progress was slow and painstaking. This was literal for Gilt, more than once did he yelp as I tugged the comb too hard. I did his back and arms, as you mostly required 2 hands to do this right. I had to do the base of his tail and butt as well, it being too awkward of a location for him to properly comb it all out. It was mostly clean though. Mostly. The things you do for a friend…
As I worked away tufts of matted fur, some fell away revealing orange and white scars that beforehand had been completely covered up, and the bigger ones only became more prominent. Most of the scars were simply singular lines, but others branched out like the roots of a tree, starting big and branching out into smaller, thinner lines. Some pieces of fur were knotted so close to the skin that they had become impossible to comb out, and had to be shaved off. Something that must be a relief to Gilt, I had seen him often getting pains from these pieces tugging at his skin.
In the end, there was a large pile of fur, almost as much as he had still had on himself, and a now relatively clean-looking Gilt, his scars a lot more prominent.
“I look even worse,” he said, looking into the mirror and sorrowfully taking in his body.
“No, you look metal.” Gilt looked at me with confusion. “You look cool, wicked, rad…” Stupid translator, it doesn’t seem to translate slang. Earl might be onto something, with him actually learning their language. “You look tough.”
He perked up from that compliment. “Tough,” he repeated, and he turned around to fully take himself in. “You really think more people will accept me like this?”
“Well, that depends on your personality, but you look more welcoming for sure. You now at least appear to take care of yourself.” Why does he want people to accept him? He’s always so abrasive.
“I have plenty of personality.” He placed his hands in his side and looked with pride into the mirror. “Now, it is getting late, and I haven’t had my second meal yet. Are you hungry for bratwurst?”
A/N:
As always I really appreciate comments, it gives a lot more satisfaction than a few up arrows.
A special thanks to u/InstantSquirrelSoup for proofreading. Check out his fic: Arxur Hospitality
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I’ve had testicular Torsion and i went under a surgery 2 months ago and they had to remove one of my testicle due to the blood cut off. I’ve planned to fly a long haul flight which was after 2 months after my surgery. I’ve had no idea it would feel this uncomfortable and like i cannot express the feeling I had cause I am on a bit fat side, so the space was cramped and it was totally uncomfortable and stressful. I’m 6’, so i couldn’t even normally sit comfortably as I’m a bit fat, but even after this surgery I’ve had to take care and make sure I’m having a bit safe between the legs but Ive had no space. By the way i was flying economy.
So this was my experience flying 3 months after my Testicular Torsion Surgery.

Several friends told me that it was super easy, quick painless etc. I thought it would be. I don’t have an issue with blood draws, dentists or other simple procedures.
So I went to the gym first, had a good lift, ran 3 miles, rinsed off, popped the 1 valium they prescribed me and went straight to the procedure. In my head I’m thinking I’m taking the next week off so get a good workout in. Procedure fucking sucked. Apparently all that exercise tenses everything up down there so the urologist is down there yanking pretty fucking hard on the vas. When they inject the local anesthetic your balls swell and it fucking hurts. So I’m pretty tense and I can’t help but clench and that pulls the vas too. It took 45 min to snip both and it was not easy or painless. I was breathing like a woman in labor, with my eyes and teeth clenched.
They left the room and told me to get dressed. I took a moment and steadied myself, glanced in the tin and saw the 2 lengths of vas that they cut out. They looked like 1.5cm lengths of pink/gray fleshy coffee straws. I put the jock strap on and went for the after care talk.
“No sex for a week, take it easy and ice for at least 2 days. Light stuff after that is ok.”
Well no sex means bjs are ok right? I have a 3 year old and a newborn(reason for the procedure.). So I only got to ice for a few hours on day 1 and a few hours in the morning of day 2. I constantly have to pick up my 3 year old and newborn. Not usually an issue but all those muscles put strain down there. I was pretty swollen. My balls felt like they were clanging together. If I sat it would feel like I was sitting on my own swollen balls. Day 3 things were going a little better. The incision was small with 1 visible stitch but behind the incision it felt like a 3rd swollen testicle. Super tender and a lumpy mass. I think they stitch the scrotum up like a hacky sack, all the stitching is on the inside.
Day 4 I go to the gym again. Upper body lift and 1-mile run. Trying to take it easy. The run hurt. Day 5 I decided to go skiing. They said take it easy, well skiing is easy for me. Ow. It’s spring in the PNW and conditions were rough. Poor coverage on cascade concrete. I felt every bump.
1 week after I’m getting new inflammation on all the plumbing of the right nut. dull ache. I finally decided to chill. Over the 2nd week i was diligent with anti inflammatory meds and that helped a lot.
Week 3 we go on a family ski vacation. I was skiing with my 3 year old which means carrying him and a ton of gear all day. By now I thought I was going to be good. Swelling has gone down, the stitches are dissolving as expected, a little puss from incision as expected. Day 3 of the ski trip my left side has new inflammation. I think it was a sperm granuloma. All the plumbing of the left side is super swollen including a very firm mass. That took 3 days to fade and again I felt every bump while skiing.
Week 4, stitches are gone but the incision hole is pretty tender. There’s a dime sized swelling behind the incision. Pretty much back to normal now.
Anyway I’m fine. I did everything I wasn’t supposed to do. I barely iced and didn’t wear the strap passed day 2. I did keep skiing through the pain but I definitely extended my recovery time. I’m week 5 now. Week 8 is the confirmation.

I got my vasectomy this past Thursday and I feel like I completely misunderstood the concept of minimally invasive surgery and quick recovery time. For some reason I thought it would be about as difficult and painful as an eye exam or dental cleaning. I didn't think of it as still being surgery. As a very sensitive part of my body being cut into.
It didn't help that halfway through the surgery the doctor discovered my right testicle sat higher than it should and I had a cyst bellow it. He had to manipulate it kind of like milking a cow before injecting the numbing agent and then injected so much I felt guilty and didn't tell him I could still feel the incision and the tying off on that side was also particularly painful. I almost bit through my forearm while he was working on my right side.
I just felt like I needed to write this out. It's mostly user era in not realizing surgery is surgery and I'm sure in a few months I'll have no regrets at all.