My girlfriend and I decided both to get a clean bill of health so that we need no longer use barrier contraception. In addition to blood tests, part of the procedure involves culturing a cell sample from within the shaft of the penis.
To obtain this, the young female doctor used her icy gloved fingers to grab what had earlier on that day been my dick, but which had now contracted to Fantastic Voyage proportions with the cold and trepidation, and of course because a female doctor was involved, said “this might feel a little odd”, then jammed a sharp little plastic spoon down the middle of my bell-end.
I was replying to her at the time and was saying “It’s going to ‘feel odd’, or do you mean ‘some discomfort’ as you doctors like to say as a euphem-- HOLY JESUS FUCKING H CHRIST FUCKFUCKFUCK OWOWOWOWOW!!!”.
Scrape scrape scrape, she went, then scraaaaatch as it came out. It stung every time I peed for the next day. Fucking hell, I get the shrinks thinking about it now. I can’t believe some people do that sort of thing for kicks.
It’s just as it sounds. Your face (or mouth, rather) gets a similar treatment as the normal penal receptacle does. Definitely not for the faint of heart or persons with gag reflexes. :o
My experience that’s worse than I imagined? Having a high paying job where I don’t have to do hardly anything. This is what Purgatory must be like. I just sit and wait… bored… bored…
Also, putting a pet to sleep. I’d never had to do it myself, and last year was the first time. It was traumatic. I don’t know how I’m going to manage it with my other pets when the time comes.
I agree. Why, I just looked in the mirror, the stress and angst has made my complexion all wrinkly and saggy, made my hair turn gray, and I gained 20 pounds since my wedding day! Listening to the oldies station on the radio is soothing, though.
Dating. I enjoyed dating when I was young and have had three good, long relationships in my life. All three were relatively easy to get into, and the men involved were thoughtful and faithful, at least for several years. So when I got divorced I looked forward to being back “out there” and dating and having fun. But it’s not fun. Not at all. Oh, the first few dates are pretty nice, when the man is “courting” you. But once he thinks he’s “got” you, he disappears. This happens to me every.single.time.
I think I’m finished with dating. It’s much worse than I ever imagined. This makes me sad, but I just can’t stomach this anymore.
Waterboarding myself and going through the gas hut in bootcamp. The gas hut is where they expose you to high concentration of tear gas in an enclosed space and leave some time before they allow you to put on your gas mask.
So, as it turns out, you don’t realise just how pleasant it is to breathe until you feel like you can’t.
Rachel,
Would not closing a fist around the shaft prevent movements that are too deep while still giving the recipient whatever it is s/he gets out of it?
That’s about what a PAP smear feels like to me. Of course, a sharp stick to the cervix can’t be pleasant, but I was really unprepared for how unpleasant (read, hurt like a BITCH!!) it was. :eek:
I just called up a collectables store to see if I can get rid of my collection of mint condition 1989 Fleer and 1991 Upper Deck baseball cards. Guy said he wasn’t even interested.
Not as painful as some of the stories here, but I was hoping to get maybe $20 for these.
Catheterization. Although, to be honest, it was because of two things: I was getting the urine sample for testing because I have an overactive bladder, so I had to pee and endure the sting A LOT and then before the catheter went in, the student nurse and the teaching nurse had an argument because the student kept on insisting my clit was the urinary tract. I have a new respect for teaching hospitals.
An MRI. I had to get one to rule out MS as the cause of the weird numb patch on my leg.
I was looking forward to the damn thing! I had two small boys and an hour with nothing required of me but to lie still was a luxury not to be dreamed of. I was planning on napping…ah sweet napping.
Filling out the forms I blithely checked off NO for “have you previously experienced symptoms of claustrophobia (fear or panic in enclosed spaces)”
Even being slid into the thing was fine, but then I was curious. I’d went in with my eyes shut and I naively wondered what it looked like inside. And that is how I learned what a panic attack feels like. Dammit.
Even coming back weeks later having been prescribed a dose of Ativan, it was very difficult to keep from freaking out.
Well advice on technique is a bit belated, considering it happened like 2 years ago. I don’t know whether your method would work or not. I suppose it depends on the person. The whole reason I wanted to try it was because I enjoyed being subjugated by that particular individual. I didn’t want it to be safe. I also didn’t have a strong gag reflex until after that day… now I can’t even brush my tongue whereas I used to be able to almost deep throat.
Hence the experience being worse than I had imagined.
I’ve broke my back, passed a half dozen kidney stones and had one stone (the size of a marble) removed in a hospital, been blown up and shot at, wrecked cars and fell off a ladder…
but I still contend…
The Experience that was way worse than I imagined:
Raising two teenagers. :eek:
Having the brakes fail on my car. Everybody knows it’s incredibly scary, but the actual fear while it happens is far more gut-wrenching. Luckily the emergency brake worked and I didn’t injure anybody or crash.
In 1924 (pre-antibiotics), one of President Coolidge’s sons died from an infection from a foot blister. Count yourself lucky.
Being buried in a small avalanche. A friend once mentioned the thought of it terrified him due to claustrophobia, boy did I laugh. Claustrophobia is an indulgence for those that are able to breath.
Yes I know nobody in their right mind would think it would be fun. I am a very experienced backcountry skier, read case studies, taken courses, done a lot of snow study. I know what horrible trauma and violence an avalanche can do to a person. I have seen hundreds, and the aftermath of a thousand more. But this was the smallest amount of snow that could possibly bury a person; less than a cubic meter even. My partner who I trust with my life was right there, safe, shovel ready. He knew exactly where I was. My fingers were sticking out the surface, my head inches beneath. I knew rescue was less than a minute away.
You cannot move. At all. Your mouth is packed with snow so dense it might as well be concrete. You can hear everything going on above you clearly. YOU CANNOT BREATH. Not being able to breath sucks really, really bad.
Having two warts removed (burned off) from the palm of one hand and one from the lower inside of the middle finger on the other hand when I was 10, in 1972. Oh, they injected enough stuff to kill the pain that my hands were extremely swollen, but it did nothing. I was screaming and fighting to hard that I had three adults holding me down and two nurse/receptionists trying to calm the people down in the waiting room because they thought I was being traumatized.
Divorce from a Psycho who tried to destroy me.
Eight months of Unemployment in 2008 while being essentially bankrupt. Applying for over 100 jobs in May 2008 and not getting one damned response from any of them. Starting to think seriously about eating a gun for my birthday in June and then having both my father and my sister yell at me over the phone because I’m obviously not doing enough to get a job.
Herniated disk in lower back going out for the first time, about 15 years ago. About an hour on the floor, unable to move, then about two hours with my knees on the floor and my upper body face down on the couch, also unable to move. Incredible pain. Helplessness. Fear.
