Tasteless Medical Condition... (Was:Tarra! Mutant mouse!)

From Bane

1 Nov 1995

Dr Sonya says... "ObT Idea: In my usual theme of education and tasteless coming together, I thought it might be a neat idea to do a "Tasteless Medical Condition of the Week" post. People could make specific requests, or I could pull some particularly nasty disease or entity to discuss in graphic detail."

When I was about fifteen years old, I sprang a 'roid about the size of a marble, and suffered near-mortal anal agonies for about three months until my parents made me go see a Quacktor (I guess they got tired of my shrieks from the shitter, and mopping up buckets of my bloody sweat after).

The Doktor saw me in his office and, after a brief exam, much of which concerned my ability to pay (nil), he informed me that he could perform the procedure right then and there. At his command, and with some trepidation, I dropped trow and assumed a kneeling position on his examining table, pliant boy that I was. He told me to kneel on the paper covered mattress thing (pardon the techno-jargon), ass in the air, face jammed in a pillow. He told me to reach back and spread my own butt-cheeks apart, then he slid a horse needle into my tender young rectal ringmeat. This event holds first place in my own personal Hall of Pain. I groaned loud enough to cause the office nurse to look in on us, and he snapped at me to 'not be such a big baby.'

He left me alone for a bit, and then came back with a small silver tray of sharp-looking silvery items, one of which looked like the out-sized clippers used to cut a large dogs toenails. He had me re-assume the position, and began fiddling around with my starfish in an alarming fashion. He cursed, and told me to hold my cheeks apart, and I tried, I really did. Then I heard snipping sounds like when you cut a credit card in half with a pair of sharp scissors, and a dull, persistent pain began to spread out from my virgin bunghole, traveling upwards through my body until it expressed itself with more groaning. I felt a liquid warmth gently tickling it's way down across my inner thigh hairs and thence to my knees, which began to lose their purchase on the vinyl mattress as the paper began to soak up my blood. My newly slick ass cheeks began to slip from my fingers no matter how much I tried to spread them, and I heard him curse again...then his little silver stool rattled against the examining table as he stood up with a rush and flew out of the room. It was then that I hazarded a peek rearwards. I still knelt oblatus like a penitent, and I saw that perpendicular to my navel began a sheet of my own blood that sheened my belly and thighs and thence to the mattress, runneling down to the floor in a Rorschach pool of scarlet, the Doktors foot prints clear where he had scampered away.

He soon returned in a huff, with an EMT I knew vaguely in tow. Herr Doktor had apparently enlisted this worthy to assist in the spreading of my slippery cleft, but the fellow stopped in stunned amazement when he saw the charnel scene displayed to him. Doktor snarled at him to 'move it' and he took over the job of human spreader, while I quivered and tried to not pass out. By now Doktor was in a fine frenzy, no doubt late for some pressing engagement. I could feel each mighty tug as he sewed like a sailmaker, closing whatever spurting crevice he had wrought.

He finished up in short order, which was just as well. If I'd had to take another moment of this, I would have staggered out screaming, even if I was trailing fifteen feet of my own bloody intestines. He told me to 'clean myself up', and asked (I swear) if I thought if I would 'need anything for pain.' After filling a large waste basket with bloody paper towels, I actually drove myself home and made it to the bedroom before the pain put me to the floor.

This same Doktor, eight months later, told an ICU nurse to "go ahead and let the old bastard take a shit if he wants," and my grandfather (in for a heart attack, and too proud to use the bedpan) died on the toilet on his first grunt. There are worse ways to go, I suppose.

Bane
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Cheer Up!...it's always darkest just before it turns completely black...