Where the Sun Doesn't Shine

Penetration.

Such a charged word on so many levels.

Some may enjoy it. Others are called Joe and just recently had a very unpleasant visit at the hospital.

I eat crap. No, really… I eat all that stuff that so many “experts” are telling us on TV, 24/7, not to eat. I hardly ever chew. I don’t fucking count calories or have any regular set hours for when I eat. Considering that and that I from time to time may have a somewhat stressful lifestyle, its only a matter of time before my stomach will yield. So, it finally did.

After having my stomach problems checked up at the doctor's, I had to come back for a more thourough check-up to do a little something called colonoscopy. A colonoscopy is basically where they take a camera and shove it up your arse. Sounds lovely, right? Ask around. More people than you may think have had one. They just don’t want to talk about it. Now I know why. But being me, and being known for not being able to shut up, I will share this with you… You're welcome.

The nurse, Erica (of course, one of the most beautiful women on the planet), asks me the standard questions, and so on, guaranteeing that nothing will go wrong today. As if sticking objects up my rectum is the right thing to do? She asks me if I would like to have some kind of drug, so that I may feel more relaxed. Now, I'm against all kinds of drugs (except alcohol - which is not a drug; it's booze, mate) and am also a fucking control-freak, so, no, I think I’ll pass on the date rape drug thank you. Or… should I, Erica?

“Well, some people feel no discomfort. They may wish they never had taken the drugs. While there are those who obstain, but wish they hadn’t.”

Clear enough for everybody so far? Of course that is the fucking case, Erica. What kind of fucking answer is that anyway? I know what these drugs do! What do YOU think I should do? You're the expert here for chrissakes!

“Well, did you drive here today?”

Yes, I did. Why?

“Youre gonna have to wait a few hours before we can let you go, if you take the drugs. But we will offer you coffee and a snack afterwards…”

Right… So, this rape comes with a continental breakfast? No thanks, Erica. I wont be taking the drugs. I am not sitting down to have cookies with you after you have plunged my asshole. What am I, a Polish stripper?

I get undressed and get to wear one of those hideous hospital outfits. Anything to make me feel as small as fucking possible, right? What is it with those fucking outfits anyway? Surely there must be a more comfortable design for hospital purposes? Does hospital policy include ridiculing their patients? Wait… Hang on, I should know the answer to that one. Since this hospital is also my work place. Did I mention that? That the people that will soon have me impaled on a 9 yard camera are the very same people that I will meet in the hospital cafeteria every bloody day? Well, there it is.

After getting all dolled up in my little hospital dress, II finally enter the room where it will all happen. Erica looks me up and down, clears her throat and says: "You have it on backwards. The open end goes on the back." Thanks, more humiliation coming my way. Now I look like an extra in a really bad porn flick.

So I lie down on the bed. Next to me theres is a TV. The image looks a bit messed up though. Can't quite make out what it is supposed to show. Oh, hang on! The images are moving now! Hey, its me! Lying on a bed with my arse sticking out from this blue dress I'm wearing! I turn around and I see a man holding a fucking garden hose with lights, lenses, pipes and claws at the nozzle!!! Sweet Jesus, the brutal reality of this exam is starting to dawn on me.

“This is the one we will be using,” the man says with a smile.

Oh, hello, you must be Dr. Tact. Please don’t make me pet that thing. I don’t need any introductions. I need understanding from people who don’t think of penetrations as a petty thing. I turn away and start biting that pillow. I suddenly feel the man, who is actually called Dr - (actually, I never caught his name as I was busy sucking my thumb) - sticking a fucking finger up my arse "to lubricate". Might as well been using his own fucking semen for lubrication for all I know. Prejudiced? Me? Yes! This guy had how many career choices to pick from, but he chose proctology? What the fuck…? “Yeah I could have been a plastic surgeon, squeezing hot chicks’ boobs all day long, but instead I think I will anally rape young men with a rubber schlong.”

A finger doesnt easily slide into an arsehole. Believe me, I know. I've helped many a young lady to experience that. No, not my arse. Theirs. You see, I’m not one of those guys who prefer having a finger up my rectum while having any form of sex. What the fuck is that all about anyway? “Yeah, I will fuck you now, girl! But feel free to pentrate me at the same time. After all, I’m a big girl who likes to get fucked also!” People, people… Check your kinks in at the door, please. Normal sex rocks if you do it right. If you're so fucked up you can only get off on some weird shit, maybe you just need to practice on the regular stuff some more.

Back to hell...

Taking a shit feels excellent. Right? Having that experience reversed also produces the reversed effect. It fucking sucks. But the experience also made me realize something: Anal penetration doesn’t exactly hurt, ladies. Shut up about that. Sure, there is a truly fucked up and extremely uncomfortable sensation to wrestle with, but no, it doesn’t hurt.

Suddenly, that fucking garden hose slides in. I gasp for air frantically as if dropped in icy cold water. I shiver like there's no tomorrow and start hyper ventilating.

“Just relax, Joe, if you hyper ventilate you may pass out.”

Relax? This is relaxed, lady! This is me dealing with a severe trauma to my anus in a very adult way! Please grant me hyperventilation and/or panicking in any way I see fit. By the way, its not ME doing it! Its my arse telling me to fucking do something about the intrusion here! And what was that about passing out? Oh please, sweet oblivion, take me away!

Now, to be honest with you… It didn’t hurt. Save the fucked up feeling of having a man sticking God-knows-what into my arse that hurts in a very special way, on a more emotional level, but there was no actual pain.

Or so I thought.

Remember how I mentioned that the hose had a nozzle equipped like the fucking Millenium Falcon? This fucking thing starts filling me up with air. Yes, people… It fucking starts blowing me up as if  I was a balloon animal ready to be twisted into something amusing. But I certainly wasn’t laughing. My colon… twisted… inflated… ravaged… This fucking inflation hurts. Man! It is as if someone is farting into my arsehole! Once again… Farting feels nice, reverse effect doesn’t…

Doctor Tact-Livingston is charging on into the unchartered territories of my colon, as if he had finally found his purpose of life. I guess when he saw no more blanks on the world map, he went on to discover the hidden world deep inside me, where the sun never shines. OK, enough. The inflating really starts to hurt, and as I’m complaining about it, he says (in unison with Erica, the most beautiful woman in the world):

“Just fart, Joe, you will feel better…”

Gawd… This humiliation knows no end.

I didn’t fart. I can’t fart in front of women, and certainly not the good-looking ones at that. Also, I cant fart because I HAVE THREE YARDS OF RUBBER UP MY FUCKING ARSEHOLE!!! Can it get any worse now?

“Lie down on your back, Joe… Ease up so I can get in a bit further.”

I have no dignity left as Captain Solo/Dr Tact/Dr Livingston wants me to change postion. Those words are my words, Doc! I’ve said that to so many women while screwing their brains out. Not that I want to think about sex right now. (Pavlov’s dogs and all that…)

I start to ramble and sing. I am not Joe anymore anyway. I can see how my personalities splits up into different layers. “Split personality” is no longer a concept in a psychology book. It’s fucking happening! Lalala la lalala laaa… Im losing it… It's around this time that the kind doctor mentions that maybe I should have gone for the sedated option. Hang on… What was that? I could have been sleeping through this? You tell me that now? Wanker!

“You didn’t know that was an option, Joe?”

Joe says nothing. He has left the building a long time ago. But Bingo, the new alter ego and inhabitant of what was once Joe, is laughing his tits off. Time stops… The colors fade from his world.

My Kodak moment lasted about 6 or 7 minutes. I kind of lost track after singing “Moon River” twice during the examination. But it felt like 20 hours.

Afterwards, I'm taken back to the original room where I may sit in my little gay blue dress and just hum to myself. The nurse comes in with a smile, a “That wasn’t too bad, was it” and a tray with cookies and apple juice. Kill me now. I'm hungry, all right. Haven’t fucking eaten anything for the last 36 hours, but I can’t eat that, can I? I mean… for fuck's sake!

The hunger gets the best of me and I find myself sitting on the end of a rather uncomfortable hospital bed eating cookies and drinking apple juice. I am now the smallest person in the world. Yet inflated. In a dress. With my arse whispering memories of a cold visitor…

Sure, the colonoscopy had a purpose. To find cancer, plague, bedbugs or whatever the hell… But the test results came back with nothing. NOTHING! Oh sweet baby Jesus, please let there have been something you need to fix. How the fuck can I ever learn to live with the memories of this excavation of my unholy hole, without a proper reason? I can’t… but I have to… It’s just the way it is…

Penetration…

Been there, done that, wrecked that shit.

Joe

Joe was one of our more popular DRS writers, the angry bartender, whose career was sadly cut short by a sudden change of trade.

Now he's back to tell the tale.