Recently, ever since I turned 27 a month ago, I've had this odd feeling in my… well… my…
Okay, that area. Not so much an odd feeling, but more so one that has gone missing for a while. One that used to taint and taunt my teenage years. One that was such a grave annoyance in the moment, but now is missed and sought after every day by my ego.
It's as if part of my manhood has been stripped away forcefully from me, leaving behind the weak, unfulfilled feeling of emptiness.
At first, I thought it could have been work stress; maybe it was all in my head. I do lead an extremely debilitating and menial work life, so much so that my coworkers fear for me.
Just last week, on a Thursday night, all of them had bidden me goodbye, saying they would see me the next day. Well… I bet you could imagine the shock on their face when they came into the workplace to see me hunched over what was the next day's pallets to unload, squatting down, mindlessly staring at each of them as I put some items into a box, and all the while, looking absolutely disheveled and feral.
"B–Bill… What are you doing? Why are you still here?" One of my coworkers, Sasha, asked me.
"Oh… you know… getting these pallets done… hahahahahaha!" I said, laughing maniacally and scaring off Sasha.
Needless to say, I was completely and utterly burnt out and stressed, but that was just for one week. I had done so much work that week that I could not show up to my job for 3 months and still not be behind.
Maybe it was my blood flow? I thought to myself, 2 weeks into my little problem. Maybe I had become so inactive that my guy downstairs had… moved out, so to speak.
To combat this, I went out for runs in the morning as the sun came up, all the while feeling disgruntled about my wood not doing the same.
I had put in hours a day into running; 3 hours each morning for a week and a half just to see some change, and yet nothing came up… no pun intended.
What was up with me?
Clearly not my penis!
I even tried changing my diet! My God-forsaken, terribly fatty and non-nutritious diet of greasy and cheesy Italian food, salty fries from the Five-Guy's menu, and caffeine. I even gave up drinking… I haven't drunk a single drop of alcohol in the last month, and my goodness, is it an odd feeling.
Now, my diet is made up of fruit… a lot of fruit and fiber, littered with vegetables and lots of water. Going so long without a sugary drink makes a man go crazy.
And, here's some "fruit" for thought: I don't like doctors. I hate them. I despise them. I would rather lose my erection—I mean… um… my "manhood" for a whole year if it meant not going to the doctor's office as well.
Dentists were okay, especially since I've been taking care of my teeth in recent years. However, nothing on this beautiful green Earth could ever make me step foot into a doctor's office willingly.
"Ugh! This sucks!" I said as I closed the fridge door in my kitchen, behind which was Hansen, my roommate, standing there all surfer–boy with his blonde hair falling to the sides and messy, looking so smart and yet so stupid at the same time.
"Oh… hey Hanny," I said to him before I took a bite of some pineapple.
"Duddeee… are you, like, doing the pineapple trick for your girl? Woahh, man… I woulda never guessed you as a nasty semen kinda guy."
"What the fuck, Hanson?" I barked, absolutely shocked at his comment, pineapple almost escaping my throat.
"Oh come on, mannn… we're both bros… I get it, the ladies don't dig it tasting like pennies… except the cheap ones."
"Whatever could that mean, Hanny?" I asked in shock as I scarfed down another pineapple.
"Because… they're a bunch of penny pinchers, and penny pinchers love pennies." He said, rubbing his fingers together, then snapping them into finger guns at me. I couldn't help but laugh and drop my pineapple on the floor.
Hansen, though extremely stupid on the surface and way too laid–back, being a stereotypical dude that practically lived at the Californian beach, was still the most honest and open person to talk to. We moved in together a year ago, and honestly, he's been such nice company to have.
Other than the fact that him doing dishes has an equal probability of me getting the man downstairs to wake up… he is still a great friend.
"That was a good one, wasn't it?" He said, patting himself on the back. "I should've, like, done stand up, mannn—"
"Hansen, you ever have problems?" I asked
"Hm? Oh, man, all the time… just last week, I had to pee really bad… and brooo, I like, found this empty water bottle on the beach next to a group of girls sunbathing in the sun… so I had Tina cover me while I went, and then I threw the bottle back at them… Next thing you know, they cover me with the stuff in the bottle, saying they drank—"
"HANSEN! Holy shit, not that! Nothing close to that. Not those pro— you made a girl drink your piss?!
"Whoa! Hey man! It was a mistake. You think I would—me, myself, I—would ever do such a thing—"
"YES!"
"Whatever, smelly man." He said before walking off to the living room, switching on the TV. "Want a light?" He said, throwing himself on the couch with a blunt in his hand.
"No, I'm okay… But, I will ask… Do you have any problems…"
…
"Down there?" I asked shyly, to which Hansen began chuckling. "What? What?!"
"Oh, my sweet summer child." For a second, Hansen switched from slightly stupid to slightly informed. "Let me tell you a little something about down there…"
Never mind, the stupid is back. It's so back.
"I have, like, seen everything you've been doing. Super cool stuff, dude… but if none of that is working, you gotta, like, open your horizons…"
"Okay… yeah! I guess I could start looking for a new—"
"And find a woman who can pop that prostate back into place."
"New job— What the fuck? What are you talking about?" I asked, finishing my sentence after his bodacious claim. Hansen was now taking a hit from his perfectly formed blunt, breathing the air in, holding it in his mouth for a second, then blowing it out, making our apartment smell even more like cat piss.
"Maybe yous like, gots prostate problems. Listen, and you listen too, little dude." He pointed to my crotch area as the weed steadied his mind, allowing him to talk more clearly. "You're doing everything right. Have you been watching porn?"
"Porn is—" I hesitated to answer, but this was Hansen we were talking about, the same man who just a few moments ago admitted to accidentally letting a girl drink his urine. "Porn is boring, man. No matter what I watch, it's just… ugh, icky."
"I hear ya, noodle boy." Okay, thanks a lot, piss boy. "You haven't brought a girl home in a long time… when's the last time you've courted?"
"Oh, last week. I lost, though. I hate playing point guard—"
"Not basketball, silly man, I mean girls." He said, taking another hit of his weed.
"Well… when did you move here?" I asked.
Hansen shook his head in disapproval. It wasn't due to my lack of courtship and my extremely low body count. Even a jock–type guy like Hansen steered clear of toxic mindsets such as viewing women as prizes and objects to score off and keep records of.
Shockingly, Hansen was very innocent in this field.
"As your love doctor—" He began.
"Very big stretch on that title, but go on."
"I think you should go out and start mingling. Go play basketball with some chick, see if she likes the way you dribble and shoot your ball—"
"Is this supposed to be an innuendo?"
"No… God, I hate your generation. Silly Man; I'm telling you to go to the doctor first to make sure you're all good, and then go and find love…"
…
"And then let her in your end though… Haha!" Hansen joked, but I didn't laugh. Aw man, tough crowd… Your generation can't appreciate good humor."
"We're a part of the same generation, Hansen! And I'm not letting some girl go into my ass! I'm not g—"
"Bummer! And I'm the toxic one? Look at you… With your fragile masculinity… suit yourself, then. Be floppy like a disk. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna lay back and green out. Goodnight, simple slime." And with that, Hansen lay back, closed his eyes, and traversed this plane of existence.
Sigh.
He was right. It's been a while since I went out and found something truly fun. To be honest, the last 2 months have been pretty boring and routine for me. There was not one single exciting bit in my life.
Maybe that was it… I just needed to find something exhilarating or fulfilling for me to get my spark back and my Johnson fighting through my jeans.
I looked over at Hansen.
Though he can be bat shit crazy sometimes, he is still as wise as the next guy…
…
Ugh fine! I'll go and get checked.
And so I booked my appointment tomorrow, this time, with a new doctor. A proctologist named Eleanor Carabel.
End of part 1.
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Afterthoughts!
I hope you enjoyed reading CH 1 of my erotica "A Trip to the Cockter's Office." I will be updating this weekly on all platforms, including Scribblehub, WebNovel, Inkitt, and Wattpad.
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Hope to see you there, and thank you!
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