So, in all my sexual undertakings you'd figure as careless and scandalous as I've been in the bedroom (and in bathroom stalls) that I'd have caught some sort of sexually transmitted infection somewhere along the line...

And you'd be right...

I have...

Four times...

And counting...

All of them we're curable thank God but after the fourth one

I really did learn something...

That I'm fairly susceptible to disease...

It was a Monday.

I was working at the International Academy Of Design and arrived there first thing in the morning to prep for my first lab.

Seeing as I was drinking only a few short hours ago and then partook in some dubious sex with a dubious lady, it was no surprise that when I went for a piss, it was bright orange, burned a little and stunk a lot.

No big deal.

Happens everyday.

I chalked it up to my swanky ROCKSTAR lifestyle, continued with my day and figured I would just do what I normally do when my body starts telling me it needs to be cleansed...

I tell it to shut its face and force some Whiskey on it...

But since I was at work and "on the job boozing" is frowned upon in most educational institutions I drank water instead.

Lots of it...

I chugged about eight glasses thinking I could just flush out whatever toxins were in my system causing me grief.

About an hour later, I got a strange sensation in my pants.

It wasn't anything like a boner or a yearning for a slap.

No. It was something different.

Something I can only describe as "hurt."

I went for a piss and although it was less orange in appearance this time, it smelt worse and the pain had increased.I told myself that it was because I'd been extra rough on my body the last few weeks, so I slugged some more water and then headed to the staff room to fix myself a tea because drinking tea makes me urinate so frequently that my piss actually goes clear.

So my thought process was still, "cleanse."

About half an hour later I felt the pressure of my bladder needing to be emptied again and was certain that after this piss, I'd have rid my body of the pollutants that were causing my penis misery.


This piss burned about twenty times worse then it did before and it hurt to shake. I came to the conclusion that it was going to take more than water to remedy my problem and decided not to drink anymore seeing as the act of urinating was only leading to unhappiness but I had already drank so much that the damage was done...

I started pissing every twenty minutes.

By the end of the first hour I could have been classified as a cripple. The pain was so epic that I tried to reestablish my relationship with God.

Apparently he wasn't speaking to me that day.

I dragged my swollen dick head back to my class, sat down in the corner of the room and hoped that none of the stupid students asked any stupid questions because I wouldn't be able to even pretend to be patient or kind.I look up "burning penis" in Google and came across a few websites that all said to check your underpants for discharge.

I ran out on my class, kicked open the bathroom door, jumped into a stall and yanked my pants down...

Sure enough it looked like somebody had blown their nose in my shorts...

There were streaks of discharge all down the front of my Fruit Of The Looms.

I thought, "What have I ever done to deserve this?"

Don't answer that...

While in the bathroom, I had one final piss and shed a tear...

Okay fine, I was bawling.

I never bothered going back to my class and went straight to The Deans office, cradling my dick in the most inconspicuous way I could think of...

From behind...

I told him that I needed to leave for personal reasons, which he consented, so I limped out of the school and hobbled to the clinic next door. The waiting room was full.

I told the receptionist, or nurse or whatever the fuck she was at the front desk that I needed to see a doctor immediately.

She told me to have a seat.


I sat down and felt ill from the soreness in my crotch, which was unbearable. It was making the walls distort and the people around me move in slow motion.

I thought I was going to faint...

I mean fart...

So I did.

It felt like an eternity had past before I actually got in to see the GP and when I did, there was no time for pleasantries. I had already whipped out my dick after the nurse had shown me to the examination room, so as soon as the doctor came in I just shrieked "Doc, the burning...make it stop...please."

He told me to sit back on the operating table...and to release his stethoscope.

I sat back while he went over to his cupboard and grabbed a vile like container containing a swab like swab in it.

He came over to me and told me to hold my penis steady and lean back.

I thought, "This is no time for a blowjob," but figured what the fuck, so I grabbed my junk, closed my eyes and leaned back...

And Dr. Kevorkian shoved the swab like swab in my dick like dick hole.

"Jesus Christ!"

He said, "hang on..." as he twisted the swab around inside me and continued, "I need to make sure I get a good sample."

I think, "I'll give you a 'good sample'you fucking prick." After he pulled out the swab, he told me he was pretty sure it was Chlamydia that I had and that I'd be good as new in ten days with the little help of some antibiotics.

I thanked him and went to jump off his table, but he said, "No, wait. I have to do one more swab to be sure." Skeptical, I sat back and watched him grab another container that contained no swab like swab in it...

The Doctor pulled out this Q-tip that was eight times its normal size and headed towards my dick with it. Stuttering, I said, "that's not going to fit in there" but he assured me, "it will."

I gulped when he told me to hold my penis still again but it wasn't my dick that was shaking...

It was my hands trembling in fear.

I grabbed my dick with both hands...

Okay fine...

I pinched it with two fingers...whatever, shut up.

The point is that I held it steady.

Still in disbelief that the giant swab would fit into my average dick hole, I watched.

Even though I didn't want to, I watched.

And sure enough it went in.

Not without some force but it went in.

The sight of the foreign object stretching out my piss hole made me feel nauseous.

I only had two options.

Look away or throw up.

I choose to look away.

Without watching, I now had the ability to focus all my attention on the searing sensation that occurred while Dr. Kevorkian twisted and scraped his giant dick stick against the already irritated, inflamed walls of my urethra.

Finally he stopped with the attempted homicide of my manhood and while quivering and on the verge of collapsing, I pulled up my pants and wiped a tear off my cheek.

I felt raped.

At this point the doctor shifts from physical to verbal abuse as he harps on me about the importance of safe sex and condoms.

"You know really should be more careful. You shouldn't blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, penis, blah, blah, AIDS, blah, blah, blah." Thanks Doc but honestly, shut up and gimme my dick pills, would ya?

And are those lollipops? I'll have an orange one please.

The doctor gave me a handful of pills (in Canada they give the pills away for stuff like this) and said something I didn't quite catch, like "Don't have mexual mintercourse for ten days" or something like that...

I don't know...I wasn't really listening.

All in all, it was quite the learning experience... Except, I learned nothing.

I caught another STI a few months later from a dirtier, uglier, more Gonorrhea infected women and went through the exact same scenario only less pissing and less swabbing were involved.I just told the doctor some bullshit like "my girlfriend was cheating on me" and let him know that I myself was the victim, which I was.

I didn't give myself The Clap...

Anyway, my little white lie allowed me to skip the doctor's lecture and dive right into the pill reception. The third time I caught an STI, I was pretty relaxed since I saw all the signs beforehand and already knew what I was dealing with, so this was basically just an antibiotic run...

There is a shady little walk in clinic on Adelaide, just west of Spadina simply called "Medical Centre." It's a little dodgy so its perfect for things like getting warts removed and having your burning member inspected...

Except once you're in the waiting room and you take a look around, you start to feel like if you don't have an STI all ready, you might catch one off of the staff members just by brushing up against them...

I popped in on my lunch break and was shown right into the examination room. I was lying down on the examination table with my feet in the stirrups, fiddling with the otoscope when the doctor (who looked more like a filthy patient) staggered his way into the examination room and closed the door.

He asked me "how are you doing today?" I told him "I'm great. I have Chlamydia." He laughed and said, "how do you know?" and I responded, "How do I know? I just had to look in my looked like a slug had been crawling around in them all morning."

He asked "have you ever had an STI before?" and I answered "yes. Chlamydia once and Gonorrhea once but I caught them off toilet seats just like everyone else." and he laughed.

He asked me if I ever have unprotected sex and I looked at him like he was crazy...then answered "yes. All the time" and he laughed again.

He asked "this time...was it male or female?" and I said, " every time...except for the odd time when I'm really drunk and some dude offers to touch it..." and he laughed again.

I wish I knew what the fuck was so funny.

He then proceeded "do you know her name?" and I said, "yes" and he said "that's surprising...what was she called? Fifi?"

I answered "no."

My sac is in agony and this derelict looking MD is cracking jokes at my bags expense. You can't do anything but respect that kind of humor.

He continued with his shtick "did you meet her on Jarvis?"and again I answer "no."

Jarvis is where the hookers walk the street in Toronto... Or so I'm told...

Without any swabbing, the doctor gave me a cocktail of antibiotics (four pink ones and a large, white antifungal) and told me "take them all now and do not have sex for ten days."

He said I could still masturbate though.

I had half a mind to tell him that he could yank on it if he thought that sounded like so much fun but I didn't.

I took my pills, snagged a yellow sucker and was on the mend. The fourth time I caught something dirty of some dirty bird was from a married woman with two children.

I know.

I was shocked too.

A married woman...

Is my dick not safe anywhere?

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