At a party last night the topic of if its possible that guys will throw up if hit in the crotch. Everybody was in agreement that it hurts, but even the guys weren’t so sure that is was possible and worse…none of them wanted to volunteer for the sake of science. However, after doing some research I have found that it is true, but how frequently does that happen?
As rarely as possible, please.
I’ve seen it happen to a friend; I’ve been hit there hard enough to gag and reach, but without actually vomiting.
I’ve never seen it happen, and I’ve seen guys get hit in the nuts quite often while playing sports (baseball, basketball, wrestling, rugby…). It always feels like you’re going to puke, though!
I’ve never puked from it although I don’t think you’ll find any guys arguing the fact that a shot to the family jewels usually results in an instaneous nauscious/sick-to-your-stomach feeling.
The OP is clearly a woman. Guys don’t discuss such things. It’s just to painful to think about.
If throwing up would ease the gastly lingering pain that would be caused, there isn’t a man in the world that wouldn’t give you a mighty display of <announcer voice>“Puking for DISTANCE”</av>
I don’t possess a pair of testicles but I can comment on the “sudden, sharp, severe pain” = “urge to barf”. Some years back I smashed a finger and came very, very close to losing my breakfast. I would imagine a blow to an even more sensitive part of the anatomy might have a similar result.
You can chalk up one anecdotal point from me.
Many moons ago I was working as a can-do lad on a small farm during the summer to earn spending money. I dug postholes, I mucked out the barn, I fetched eggs… you name it.
I also had to clean out the horse stables.
Now, one of these horses was a mean bastard. Sir Alfred, they called him. I dunno why. He was never ridden and I don’t think he pulled a load a day in his life. Near as I can tell his only job was to eat, crap, and service the occasional mare.
I’d been working there almost a month on that fateful day, and had become somewhat complacent. I’ve always been good with horses, and had even (I thought) won Sir Alfred over - he no longer tried to bite me when I came near his stall, and he didn’t rear and challenge any more either. So I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have while going about my chores.
I’d just finished cleaning up a steaming pile right outside his stall when it happened. I set down the bucket, leaned the shovel against the rail, and stretched, trying to pop my back. While I was in this position I recieved an almighty great hoof to the groin - the evil bastard had aimed right between the slats on his fence and caught me dead-center.
Well, I dropped like the proverbial sack, of course, clutching myself and moaning. I managed to crawl a bit away from him, just in case he was in the mood to kick a guy while he was down. The owner – a friend of the family – was alternately laughing and trying to help me stand. I finally got to my feet…
… and exploded. I hit John (the owner) at about the knees, and coated his legs all the way down. I couldn’t hold it back. It just… happened. I retched until my toenails were lying on the ground, then I retched some more. It was the Puke That Would Not End. John took it well. After dodging clear of the second (and subsequent) fusillades, he hosed himself off and turned the hose on me once I’d managed to stop heaving. The cold water helped numb things a bit, so that was nice, at least.
His daughter thought it was funny as hell. Not so much as an ounce of sympathy from that little witch. She preceded us – John wincing in sympathy and helping me walk, me trying to stagger on legs made of jello – into the house, shrieking at the top of her hateful little lungs, “SO-FA got kicked in the NU-UTS! SO-FA got kicked in the NU-UTS!”
I spent the rest of the day icing my marbles and feeling miserable. The bruise was magnificent – it spread out to cover half of both thighs and all the way up to my belly button. I had trouble walking for a week, and baggy shorts were the attire of choice. Fortunately for my future offspring, he didn’t quite nail the boys – Sir Alfred’s hoofprint was neatly pressed into my skin starting just above the important bits. So, while I was hoofed in the groin, it was more the pelvis that took the blow, I suppose. It still hurt like a mofo, and to this day I’ve yet to have anything hitting me ‘down there’ hurt that much, even an actual nutshot.
Damn horse. I hope he went to the glue factory. And the little girl, too! 
I’ve taken some good hits in the… uh… groinal area, but I’ve never thrown up as a result. Wanted to die, yes, but no vomiting.
The worst was when I was a teenager, playing goalie on my soccer team. The ball was going high, heading to the top of the goal, so I jumped up to block it. I hit the ball, but a forward had come running up and was jumping up to head the ball. Well, I was on my way down, and he was on his way up- with a knee held up.
Why he was jumping like that, I’ve no idea. He was a really gung-ho player, very agressive. Almost a bully, really. He caused several injuries in that game and others.
Anyway, so I was coming down, his knee was going up. Ow.
The worst part of it was lying on the ground, waiting for the pain to hit. You know it’s coming, and there’s nothing you can do about it, except hope someone will put a bullet in your brain before it hits.
I also do not possess testicles, but I have puked from the pain of a severe headache. Which is a stupid way for a body to react, as the act of getting on one’s knees and praying to the white porcelin god only makes the headache worse, but the human body is a bizarre thing.
I can well believe a man would want to retch, and might even do it, after an injury to the goolies.
I would like to see the cites that you found. Personally I’ve never seen nor heard of it happening. I’ve been sparring in Tae Kwon Do for over 12 years now. You get hit in the nuts good, you go down. I’ve been hit damn hard twice. Even with a cup I dropped and saw stars. You lay there for a bit, get up, walk around, and it’s all good.
I’ve never seen nor had it happen either, although Sofaspud’s experience sounds awful. It’s a shame it doesn’t though. Some adolescent boys have a bad habit of playkicking other’s nuts and maybe a good, immediate hosing down with stomach acid would have discouraged them.
I used to puke with my migraines all of the time. About twice a week, on average, when I was a kid.
Migraines and upchucking coincide with many people, and aren’t correlated through the pain.
Never puked.
When I were a wee lad… I delivered papers on an old bicycle, the type that you see on silent movies with the big basket on front and the small wheel, rod brakes - the works!!.
It had no gears (technically I suppose it had one) and weighed only slightly less than Luxembourg.
One day, while standing on the pedals, trying to convince the thing to go up a hill (with a full load), the chain broke!
Testicles, meet saddle.
I remember having to sit down by the side of the road for about 15 minutes.
I didn’t puke though.
I’ve taken some pretty hellacious assaults targeted towards those regions of my person identified as exclusive to the male of the species (brothers, beware of rambunctious three-year olds and Labrador Retrievers!), but have never, as a direct consequence of such, served up a street pizza.
Nor have I been witness to any such cause-and-effect scenario.
The testes are enervated by visceral nerves (among other nerve plexi). Visceral pain is frequently associated with nausea and vomiting.
Oh, and BTW, I’ve seen enough testicular crush injuries in my career to verify that such an injury does indeed frequently lead to vomiting. Among other things.
Absolutley gospel. At least with a broken tooth or crushed paw you are immediately distracted by the pain, and so it is possible to bear it with a degree of animal stoicism. Not so with the pills. You have just enough time to realize exactly what has happened, how severe the injury is and think about how bad this is going to be and if maybe you had a gun you wouldn’t have to deal with it. And if you’re really lucky, you have time to drag yourself to a safe place to be alone with your terror and discomfort.
Stephen King described it as the urge to simultaneously crap your pants and blow your lunch. You’re afraid to take a breath, because once you do, the pain takes up residence, puts up its feet, and stays a while.
It’s not really a knifelike pain, either, more of an incredible ache.
ivylass, not a man, never will know, but as mother of a boy and wife of a man, I can sympathize.
It’s never come to vomiting, but extreme pain does make me feel nauseous. I’ve been kicked hard in the heuvos, and that was almost as painful as the time I dislocated my knee (it popped itself back in)
Ot certainly is a deeply sickening kind of pain, not like, say, toothache. I describe the sensation as: really severe ice cream headache, but in the groin, simultaneously combined with the feeling that someone is trying to yank an opened umbrella out of your arsehole.