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This is a question Body Horror

Mictoboy writes, "I once picked a spot on my cheek only for a half-inch long ingrown hair to coil out covered in pus."

How has your own body made you recoil in disgust?

(, Thu 11 Jul 2013, 14:02)
Pages: Popular, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I suffer from Uveitis, as well as ingrowing eyelashes, one needs the hospital, the other a steady hand, and if its not the lash, then its the hospital.
The last time I was suffering from a sore red eye, a quick hunt with good tweezers removed nothing, So off to the hospital where uveitis was not the culprit, but a little lash that grew out, curve right along the lid, and back onto the eyeball. This was quickly removed and a further week of agony ensued, back to the hospital, where an eyelash, INSIDE the lower lid was found,growing straight onto the eye!
My consultant said it was the second one she'd ever seen in her career
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 18:27, 4 replies)
I had Richard Fairbrass's face tattooed on my stomach, and then it turned out that he'd had sex with men.
Boy, was I pissed off.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 17:59, 3 replies)
Not my body,
just a body.

A couple of weeks back I got home late, and there, on my step, was the body of a seagull chick. I hate the screeching fucks, so I didn't go all girly and "aw" and "aah" at this tragic loss of life, a soul cut short by the evil whims of nature. No, I bent down to take a closer look.
It was a damp night, and the tiny fluffy body was, grotesquely, covered in slugs. There was no way I was picking up a sluggy corpse. Disposal could wait until morning.
Morning came, as mornings do, and the sun was shining. It was a hot day. I got out of bed just as my phone started ringing. Dad was on his way to the tip, and he asked if I had anything he could dispose of. I had some cardboard to get rid of, so I gathered it up and ran out to meet him.
Through the conservatory.
Over the patio.
Down the steps.
And onto a sweaty rancid juvenile avian corpse.
It's bowels exploded out of its arse and decorated the steps with delicate pinky-brown tubes, and my next step landed in them. I can honestly say that sitting on a curb dry-heaving with a footful of entrails as strangers walk past is a humbling experience. I really don't think there can be many things as fucking disgusting as having to wash day-old guts from between your toes with a hosepipe.
Even writing this has had me gagging like an inexperienced choirboy. Fucks sake.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 15:57, 6 replies)
Much like Mictoboy's headline story, i had a run in with an ingrowing facial hair.
I hadnt shaved for a few weeks. three, maybe four. i am blessed with the hairy gene, so this means i have a lustrous manley beard should i so desire.

i had an itch on the right hand side of my chin and as i was idley rubbing the patch, i realised there was a little lump, about an inch or so long running along the line of my jaw.

I managed to get my fingers around it while probing its extremities when without warning, it emptied itself into my hand. lots of pus. it didnt smell or even hurt, but i went to the toilet and squeezed the remnants out.

it was, truth be told, rather satisfying.

that night when i got home, i had a squeeze and saw what i thought was the tip of a hair within the pore. a little more probing with some nail scissors revealed it to be not the tip, but a point halfway along. i teased the loop and with a pair of victornox tweasers, extracted a one inch length of mutant stubble, going on the break like a small hairy tommy voeckler.

top tip - using razors with more than one blade helps ingrowing hairs slip under the skin. i now use a DE safty razor with Feather blades and i have no spots at all.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 14:18, 2 replies)
Hardcore pornography.
If I'm watching porn, and the male participant has a foreskin, I have to turn it off. There are few things more wrong than foreskins. Not even outie bellybuttons.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 13:55, 9 replies)
It feels so good, when the pain starts to fade.
Only, not this time. After inadvertently kicking a table leg head on with my toes, the pain came immediately and intensely. But it was only the next day when I discovered, my toe was swollen to a comical size. It took more than a few days for this to wear off, but eventually my foot started looking human again, when suddenly, my toenail just fell off clean. No rupture or scarp to be seen, just a nailless toe.

As the nail grew back, it was quite painful, seeing how the sharp edge of the nail just scraped over my tender flesh. But even as the nail reached its original length, the irritation didn't stop. Because, for some reason, the edge of the nail didn't grow back straight, but had taken a jagged shape instead. So every millimetre my nail grew was like a knife cutting open my toe again.

Naturally, the entire area had become inflamed beyond recovery, but my doctor just kept on insisting I let it grow out. I think it was only more than a year later that he finally agreed to do the operation, and take out part of the root of the nail. I was surprised at the sheer amount of blackish yellow liquid that can ooze out of a human toe, before the blood even starts coming. Try to make a bad pun on a pusseous toe while a sweaty doctor is pulling on some place deep within your dead leg with tongs and brute force. And in the operation, he left some loose chunk of nail inside the wound, so I had to be cut open a month later again.

It still hurts sometimes when I try to play football, even though it's been 10+ years, but at least I can walk normally now.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 13:15, Reply)
So I was at a Suzanne Vega gig at Glastonbury.
Sitting cross-legged (natch) and rolling a spliff (MASSIVE DRUGS).

I totes got a paper cut off the rizla. It stung a little bit.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 12:35, 11 replies)
I gained a lot of weight after devoting my every waking moment to winning arguments on the internet.

(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 11:33, 8 replies)

(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 9:17, 14 replies)
I wish Misery McUglywife's ugly wife had lost bother her legs to gangrene following that tiny prang in her 'ute'

(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 9:04, 5 replies)
I used to suffer from tonsil stones
Squeezing one of these foetid beauties out of a crevice in your tonsil is (a) disgusting and (b) blessed relief.

I have just looked them up and discovered that the crevice in the tonsil where they form is called a "crypt". Appropriate, for they smell like something long-dead.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 6:08, 5 replies)
I reckon the lady that gave birth to the person who wrote this charming little gem -

probably gave up trying to hide their disgust with him along time ago.
(, Tue 16 Jul 2013, 0:48, 96 replies)
Another colleague of mine
a fellow Time Lord, Morbius - poor sod! Now HE ended up with a body that was a REAL (if not particularly original)horror.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 22:45, Reply)

Everytime I look at myself naked in the mirror I am faced with what would have been produced if Elliot had his wicked way with ET.........
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 21:12, 3 replies)
I have body hair to rival Chewbacca, especially over my back and shoulders. It mings....I seriously hate it, but there isn't much to be done about it.
Waxing....hurts like hell and is a two-person job. Shaving or using clippers works, but has its drawbacks - back stubble! After a few days, slipping off a t-shirt becomes like ripping off a giant bit of velcro.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 20:54, 11 replies)
Purple-Helmet Warrior
I learned when I was 7 that you should never ever pull your foreskin back when going for a piss (it got stuck back). It will ensure an embarrassing visit to the doctor with Mother Speed and a unhappy Mini-Speedy.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 19:11, 5 replies)
The scrotum in my mouth
It was a typical thursday morning and I had a hangover. I felt a little sickly, so I went to the bathroom to puke it all out. A classic manoeuvre.

Unfortunately, the retching outlasted the contents of my stomach, and stringy bile began to spatter atop the undigested Guinness and chips in the toilet bowl. Then blood appeared. Then more blood. Blood upon blood upon blood.

Terror gripped me. I managed to stop retching long enough to look down my throat in the mirror. At first, all seemed normal, albeit a little blood-flecked. Then I saw my uvula (the little dangly thing at the back of your mouth).

It was horribly swollen and hanging very low. And it was resting right on that sick-inducing sweet-spot. No wonder I'd been retching so much. It was like having a finger permanently shoved down my throat. Panic set in and I couldn't breathe and I had my first (and only) full-blown anxiety attack.

A few hours later, when I'd calmed down, I went to hospital. The doctor couldn't explain it. "These things sometimes happen," he remarked, like a true professional. "Gargle some aspirin or something," he suggested helpfully.

My uvula is now hideously disfigured. Where once there was a smooth teardrop of flesh, there's now something that looks alarmingly like a ballsack, with one side hanging lower than the other. And it still dangles precariously close to that sick-inducing sweet-spot.

TL;DR: I puked so hard I grew a ballsack in my mouth.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 17:31, 5 replies)
this morning
when i worked out that the funky smell in my living room was coming from the rug, which had absorbed and fermented the utter stench of my feet. no matter how often i wash them, deodorise them or what have you, the smell never goes away. also, the second toe on each foot is at least an inch longer than the big toe.
my feet are fucking disgusting.

oh, i threw the rug away.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 14:08, 22 replies)
I tried to sell this guy my ideas for a cartoon series, and he told me that I had to get INSIDE the animals.

(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 13:37, 1 reply)
Not me and not relevant and not funny lol
my mate once paid for his chips with a Scottish pound note and got change for a fiver.
Star Trek.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 7:54, 9 replies)
The birth of Lak Junior
Not a horror for me as much as a horror for Mr. LakAttack. Or really any guy who has watched their kid be born.

Well, if you're one of those people that actually are allowed in the room for those sorts of things. I was at one of those neato new style hospitals where they were really careful about who they let in the room, but anybody you did allow seemed to instantly become part of the helper crew. That would just be poor Mr. LakAttack, who in lieu of stirrups, was my "right leg holder/right foot brace for when I pushed" And got a very very front row show for the spectacle. Doc took a single look at that kid's head size and said "nope!!" and grabbed some huge surgical snips and made him a proper exit. So he got to watch my special parts get sliced up, then a purple slimy crying monster emerged. I think he looked at the wrong time and also saw the placenta. Poor guy. The best part about having the kid is you don't have to see it happen. I did have the courage to look at my stitches one time though the day after, but it was also after I had stopped putting ice on it for a few hours. Yeah. Don't get a mirror and have a look see. That'd be my advice.
(, Mon 15 Jul 2013, 5:48, 12 replies)
Talkin' 'bout my regeneration
OK, a proper story now.

As I am a Time Lord - well, not technically; the High Council kicked me out after all that bother with - bah, that's another story! I'm a Gallifreyan, at least. Anyway, Time Lord, Gallifreyan, whatever, my body is rather more advanced than yours (two hearts, respiratory bypass system, etc) and I also have the wonderful gift of regeneration. If I am very badly injured, I simply regenerate into a whole new, healthy, uninjured body! It's mint. Got me out of a few scrapes I can tell you!

But when it goes wrong - boy, does it go wrong.

There was this time after the Magnallavax-Urgfiend war. I'd been contracted by Magnallavaxian Military Command to devise a bio-weapon to help them win the war, and so had developed a particularly vile bacterium which caused incurable, explosive diarrhoea, which only affected the Urgfiend metabolism. The unfortunate victim would defecate violently almost continually, and die of dehydration within a matter of hours. Once unleashed on the Urgfiend Throneworld, it completely decimated the population, and the Urgfiends surrendered within a day of the first reported case.

The Magnallavaxians were overjoyed with this success, and rewarded me with ten million grotzits, some of which I planned to spend on the pleasure world of Florana. So I left Magnallavax with a light heart - but, a few light years into my journey, my ship was set upon by Oabex mercenaries (contracted by the Urgfiends, I suspect) and it sustained substantial damage to its engines. I was forced to crashland on a nearby planetoid, and due to the damage, the landing was a bad one and there was an explosion which sent shards of hot metal and plastic flying through my body, lacerating my internal organs.

No worries, I remember thinking as I lay there in agony - I'll just regenerate. And so I did - but what I didn't know at the time that this planetoid was orbiting too close to its sun, and bathed in all sorts of nasty radiation: Z-Rays, Q-Rays, M-Rays, Bhoov's Radiation, the lot. All this shit seriously interfered with the regenerative process, and it went, well, all wrong.

When I came round I knew it was bad. For a start, I could not feel anything at all with my hands! That's because I didn't have any - or arms. I staggered to my feet, noticing that my left leg was a mass of suppurating, stinking sores oozing pus, and limped to the ship's bathroom, where I surveyed my new body in utter dismay.

It was a complete mess, a useless biological disaster, fit only for a freakshow. No arms, as I've said. Left leg a weeping mess. Right leg, thankfully, normal - apart from the seventeen ears which sprouted from my knee. Genitals - horrendous. Tiny cock and about thirty testicles (I lost count). What with this and the gammy leg, walking was difficult. Torso that of a Birastrop - good lung capacity, I suppose, but horrible and hairy and smelly. Face - this was the worst off all - I looked like Jim Davidson. Well, sort of - a nose had developed on top of my existing nose, and I sported a superb but totally unnecessary pair of stag's antlers.

The lack of arms made my next course of action difficult, but I was able to use my mouth and the antlers to manipulate the ship's controls and - once the engines had repaired themselves - set course for Karn, where I was able to buy a tiny amount of elixir from the Sisterhood with the grotzits the Magnallavaxians had given me. Bitches took it all - but it was worth it, and, easy come, easy go! The elixir fixed the regeneration, antlers, ears, testicles and all, and even sorted out the Jim Davidson resemblance. My body stabilised into a lean, dark, handsome form - this was several incarnations ago, I've changed a lot since then - with excellent eyesight and a pleasantly substantial penis.

I tell you, it's not all fun being a (disgraced) Time Lord!
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 19:21, 19 replies)
Another colleague of mine
a botanist called Arnold Keeler... DAMN!
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 19:13, Reply)
The sensation of an achilles tendon rupture is quite rough

Combine the sensation of having someone smack the back of your calf with a baseball bat with the feeling of pulling a chicken leg from the carcase and add the sound of a cartoon catapult being fired.

with a large dose of rolling around on the floor trying to work out what the fuck just happened and 4 months of not being able to walk.
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 18:26, 2 replies)
My wife thought it would be a good idea.
So I end up in the doctors asking him how I go about getting a minor operation performed. I told him my wife and I had been talking and we both agreed that I should get castrated. For a long time I'd had problems down there and she'd been talking to her friends and read a few books on it and we had come to the conclusion that the best thing to be done was that I should be castrated.

Well I wasn't really ready for the third degree my doctor gave me but eventually after I managed to pursuade him that both me and my wife wanted it and if I didn't have the operation then we'd most likely have to get divorced and this really wasn't fair on the children, he agreed.

I could tell he was reluctant but finally he agreed to refer me to the hospital and presently a card arrived telling me that my operation was scheduled for later that week.

So I turn up at the hospital and again I get this grilling by the surgeon. It was almost like he'd never done the procedure before but at this point I was insistant that both my wife and I had agreed that this was what needed to be done to save our marriage and so they gave me a gown to change into got me on a trolley and wheeled me in to surgery.

About an hour later I was coming round on the ward and I noticed a guy sat on the bed next to me. He was dressed and looked like he was waiting to go. Oh good I thought, soon I'll be out of here too so I asked him what operation he'd had and how long he'd had to wait before he was discharged. "Oh I've only been in this morning, just a quick in and out job" he said. "Oh really what did you have done" I asked. "I've just been circumcised" he says. "Circumcised? - that's the word I was looking for!!" I replied.
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 10:39, 3 replies)
once, many years ago
I had a serious nosebleed in my sleep.
when I woke up, and was cleaning myself up in the bathroom,
I picked my nose, and pulled out a slimy snot-covered semi-congealed stalactite of blood that was about six inches long that I felt sliding out of my head, I dangled it off my finger for a moment of horror before flicking it into the toilet bowl for everyone else to enjoy
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 8:58, Reply)
I had a small lump in my neck,
It wasn't painful, or anything. Just a lump. Then one morning, it was gone, and all I found was a little lump of poo in my bed.
I can only assume I had a neck poo.
I was not happy.
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 2:43, 2 replies)
Mate of mine worked on the rigs.
They used to constantly get covered in oily slurry as they drilled.
Seeing as this was a mixture of compressed dead animal, mud and oil it usually stank.

My friend came upon a novel idea to try to get rid of the smell.
He would go outside during a storm, lash himself to some railing and let nature "scrub" him clean.

He was doing this one day when his boss (a loud, brash Jamaican fellow) braved the elements and came out to see what the fuck was going on. He found my friend, naked lashed to some railings facing the full fury of a Southern Ocean squall.
"What __ fuck___ you___doing, mon?" the boss man tried to shout over the tempest.
"___get rid of___smell___fucking oil!" my mate responded.
Eventually the boss got him inside and clothed. He then told my friend not to be so silly as - "You'll never be gettin' rid o' the reek of oil in dis' gust."
(, Sun 14 Jul 2013, 1:31, 2 replies)
Another mate of mine
more of a colleague or a peer, Dr Seth Br - oh arses.
(, Sat 13 Jul 2013, 21:39, Reply)

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