My Anal Fissure Bob pt IV
Bumptious Q. Bangwhistle
From: afis...@yahoo.com (Joe Cidoni)
Date: Tue, 28 Dec 93 23:49:00 +0200
My anal fissure Bob and what happened.
It's been a while since violent anal dilation.
I'm afraid that I have neglected my duties by not telling you
about it sooner. But I have been at some loss for words about
it.
My anal fissure Bob who had plagued me for the last three
years is in the process of dying.
After the violent anal dilation I had expected to awaken from
my anaesthetised slumber to find that Bob had been completely
destroyed. Annihilated by modern medicine in a small sterile
room of a hospital in Seinäjoki Finland. A rich heritage of
blood and pain wiped out in minutes by strangers in mask and
gown.
It all started a couple of Mondays ago at 7 am. I hadn't slept
much the night before. Bob was quiet, but I lay awake thinking
about what was to come the next morning. I was a little
worried. I was about to experience something called violent
anal dilation and I was a bit concerned. I found out later that
my fears about the procedure where in fact justified and pretty close to
reality.
I arrived at the hospital in good spirits. I was shown my bed
and given the button up the back surgical minidress. Even
though the procedure wasn't scheduled until 1:30 I was required
to change into the garment. I suppose that it's a mandatory
indignity to humiliate and degrade potential troublemakers.
Perhaps the word had got out that I had been asking questions
about the procedure. What kind of drugs that they would be
giving me, if my physician had performed many of these
procedures etc. Medical personnel here don't like being quizzed
by foreigners with anal fissures. It had taken lots of
explaining just to get permission to have a video taped
documentary of the procedure made and released to me. I had to
get my local practitioner to request it. It has since been
explained to me that most procedures are taped anyway. They
just don't release the tapes to the public.
I was in bed dozing when I felt a sharp pain in my ass. I
whirled my head around in bed to see a rather stern and
matronly looking woman with a large enema bag. Presumably it
was her and her nozzle 'o fun that was causing the distress. I
admired her technique. I was asleep. She probably figured that
I would sleep right through it. What, and miss all the fun? Not
likely. Besides, she was about as gentle as a bull elephant.
Anal fissure Bob let out a sharp cry of pain. And so did I. She
smiled and patted my head like a lap dog as she filled my
rectum. As I looked around the room, I realised that we were
not alone. Not 10 feet away was the wife and 2 teenage
daughters of the vericose vein strip down in the bed next to
me. They were all checking me out. I smiled my best grimace and
tried to enjoy myself.
At 1:00 my doctor dropped by for a chat. The first thing that
I noticed about him was that the hand that he extended in
greeting had a slight palsy. Actually, it was more of a
tremor. This is true! "Halloo" he said with a poorly forced
smile that revealed his large yellow teeth." I spake anglish
warry badney." " Uh....hi" I stammered ". We chatted about
the usual stuff.....pain.... etc. I'm trying to ask the guy
about the procedure when out of the blue, he looks up and says
"We will tear you a new asshole." I am not making this up. By
this time, I am not feeling very confident about what's going
on and am giving some serious thought to just getting up and
leaving. I knew about A.F. Bob. He was something that I could
understand. I could live with him. This surgeon was something
else. An unknown X with a license to dilate. He gave me two
tiny white pills to swallow. "For made you relax" he said.
Hmmmm this guy was starting to speak my language, maybe this
wouldn't be so bad after all. "Seee yuu in da operashunn
place" he said and was gone.
I began feeling a little light headed from whatever drug it
was that he had given me when two orderlies came in. They clucked
low and softly to me in Finnish. Who knows what they were
talking about. I just kept nodding my head stupidly. I couldn't
have answered them anyway as my tongue was stuck to the roof
of my parched mouth. As they rolled me down the hall I tried to
count the number of acoustic tiles in the ceiling.
Eventually, we arrive at the big swinging doors of the
operating room and are met by two others in surgical greens. It
was like a prisoner exchange at the Rhine. They greeted each
other. The two that transported me there wish me a happy
dilation, hand over my file to the others, then turn and leave
me with the dilation team.
As we enter the operating theatre I begin to feel quite
apprehensive. My tongue is thick in my mouth. I am transferred
to the main operating table. The anaesthetist walks in and
without so much as a hello starts tapping my forearm to find a
suitable vein. I try to greet him but all that comes out is a
horrible squawk.
I had been relieved of my meagre garment and I lay there,
alone and naked. I look down in horror to see that my penis and
testicles have completely withdrawn into my abdomen. Perhaps
they had seen it first and were trying to warn me because
there, on a stainless steel tray, nestled amongst strange
looking devices is the object of my apprehension. It is some
sort of anal battering ram. It is matt brushed steel and is about
a foot long. It has two handles bolted to it. And for all the
world it looked like one of those metal thermoses.
By this time, a vein had been found and been hooked up to the
Anaesthetist. He still hasn't said anything so I find my
voice. "How about a little valium to get thing started." He
surprises me by speaking perfect English. "Here;" he said, "Try
this" and injects something into the hook-up that *IMMEDIATELY*
makes me feel secure and right at home. No more problems. I
chuckle at the prospect of the stainless invader.
As this all was happening, the nurses were quite busy. They
had poles that they were affixing to the sides
of the operating table. On top of these poles were large
plastic blocks that were deeply indented to accommodate what
could only be my thighs. A more compromising version of the
stirrups that doctors often use to examine women. And truly,
the video has born my theory out. My buttring is bright,
exposed, and nearly eye level to the wielder of the dilation
tool.
The chief dilator strolls in, and nods at the anaesthetist.
The latter hooks up a large syringe full of some thick and greasy looking
chemical
to my I.V. line and says "See you later." I remember
trying to fight it just to see if I could. I couldn't. I remember having a
monster head rush and trying to speak. That's the last thing that I
remember.
It's only now that I review the video tape that I realise the
horror of what actually happened to me.
It's strange to see yourself lying on a cold slab, your penis
retracted falling unconscious. Right after I go out, a nurse
puts a black rubber mask over my face. Two attendants raise my
thighs into the "stirrups" and scrunch me down so that my
ankles are bent straight back towards my head. The camera
angle is from straight overhead, so you get a weird out of body
feeling watching the whole thing. One nurse manipulates what's
left of my genitalia out of the way while another
unceremoniously paints my asshole with some sort of red tinted
disinfectant.
The doctor wastes no time and before you can say "Is he
asleep?" has two of his fingers deep into my ass. He checks
around and during the examination gives my prostate a mighty
push. I swear that I shoot a load of something straight onto my
belly where it just sits there through the rest of the
procedure. The doctor gives a grunt of satisfaction and reaches
for the dilator.
Nurses squirt some kind of lubricant from a large syringe into
and around my ass. The surgeon then inserts the end of the
dilation unit into my ass and begins rotating it left and right.
Soon he had my poor asshole fully dilated. And I mean
*DILATED*. There I am out like a light with a stainless steel
thermos up my ass. Every thirty seconds or so the doctor does a
360 with the thing.
Everyone is looking pretty bored, especially me.
After about 1/2 hour of this, the doctor removes the dilator
and PUTS HIS ENTIRE HAND UP MY ASS. This is the best part of
the video. If you have had a few drinks and squint a little it
looks for a moment like some kind of bizarre bondage/fisting
film.
A satisfied nod and the nurses move in for the clean up.
Someone has the presence of mind to wipe the manually
ejaculated fluid off of my belly. Someone swabs the shit and
blood from my ass.
I get another syringe of something in my arm. The mask comes
off my face. A nurse shakes me gently and my eyes flutter
open. "Is it over?" I ask with wondrous shining eyes. Lots of
nods around the room. "I dreamed" I say. "Wow, I feel fine!"
End of video.
They wheel me into the recovery room where I try to sit up. I
carefully reach down in a cautious exploration of my asshole.
It is confounded with a giant tamponlike stuffing. "Uh oh" I
think to myself and try to ignore it. It's only later when
they pull the stuffing out do I realise the full extent of
what's happened.
Anyway, a little later I eat some soup and vomit it back up
right away. The vomit is a vile green.
The next day, I took the first effortless shit that I had in
sometime. Oh joy! Oh nirvana.
After the surgery, Bob was still his usual self. In fact, he
was more terrible than usual. He had expected sudden death and
when he awoke, believing that he had survived a professional
ass (hehe) ass (hehe) ination attempt he was even more pissed
off and motivated then before. He had felt betrayed, and had
amused himself for the first several days after the procedure
by visiting a torturous itching upon me, his host.
The hard part about his slow strangulation is that I can feel
him dying. He groans and complains like any other terminal
patient. I must take him with me wherever I go. We are like the
Siamese twins Chang and Eng. Can I survive without my symbiotic
buddy?
Well, at least fire and blood won't shoot out of my ass every
time that I try to pass a stubborn grogan. I will no longer know
the joys of crying real tears when I shit. For a long time I
was told that painful elimination was unnatural. Now, I truly
understand.
Now, two weeks later Bob is only a faint echo of his former
self. He is still hanging onto life, but only just. He is still
there, and ugly slash of an anal fissure. But no longer red and
pusy. The occasional itch. That is all. And even that is
fading rapidly.
And oh yes....my butthole has sprung back to a more manageable
size. Your asshole really is an incredible machine.
I had a small dinner party on Christmas day. After dinner I
put on the video. It took about twenty minutes before anyone
realised that it was me. I guess they thought it was some science programme
or
something. Ho Ho Ho.
Thank you for your interest in my anal fissure Bob.
Joe