Less hurt, more not really deformed...
Like most young lads I was intrigued by my dangly bits. I wasn't the most well sexed child so I had to try and work everything out by myself.

While musing upon the physical aspect of my cock I decided that I was deformed and this deformation was far to embarrasing to tell anyone about, even a doctor. For months I lay in bed at night worrying about whether they'd cut it off if I showed it too my GP.

It was only when I found out how to delete the history on my computer and I started to go on porn regularly that I realised that everyone had one! I wasn't a freak!!!!!

The deformity that had caused me so much worry? My frenulum.

No apologies for length, it's meant to be that big.......I think.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 12:37, Reply)

Skatebording hurts
A used to cripple myself quite a few times while skating when i was a Kid

Ollieing (that's making the skateboard jump) then sliding down handrails, actually managed to do them but, one time front foot came off and landed on the hand rail on my nuts, very painful - did that a few times

Then once went for a long handrail (you would think ramming my testiciles inside my body i few times would have stopped me doing this but, NO!)got on the long rail, leaned to far back fell on the handrail and this time chipped by cocsic bone - now don't do handrails but 12 years on still skating!
(SneakyTadople, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 12:32, Reply)

I nearly hurt my rude bits
A few years ago, I was on tour with a chamber orchestra in Spain. One of the biggest differences between Spain and the UK is its low population density. You can drive literally for hours without coming across another living soul. In areas where there are few living souls, there also tend to be few toilet facilities.

An hour into the journey, my bladder began protesting slightly. Never mind, I thought, we’re bound to have a pit stop sooner or later. An hour later, I was rather uncomfortable. No service stations, gas stations or even just holes in the ground had materialised for the whole of the time we’d been driving. I was getting desperate. We agreed that we would stop at the next available bush.

That’s another thing about Spain. Owing to the relatively dry climate, bushes are few and far between. We drove and drove for what seemed like hours (it was probably only about twenty minutes). I was in complete agony.

Finally, bless the sainted heavens above, a bush appeared! It was large and leafy and perfect. I leaped out of the minibus and scampered over to the bush. I squatted on the ground and began relieving myself. I closed my eyes and grinned as the profound sense of calm that can be achieved only by emptying one’s bladder after a long period of time washed over me.

But wait – what was that buzzing sound? It was an angry sort of sound, rapidly increasing in volume, and seemed to be emanating from just below my lady parts. Yep, I was pissing on a hornets’ nest.

I leapt up, ran like the wind back to the minibus with these irate insects following me, dived in whilst still pulling my pants up screaming GO! GO! GO! at the driver and slamming the door, leaving a swarm of soggy and extremely angry hornets in my wake.

I am officially a legend.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 12:20, Reply)

Breakin' the worm.
Aged 10 at my Birthday Breakdance Party... Unfortunately my mother had decided that I should wear a pair of farrah trousers to look a bit smarter than the usual grubby tracksuit and nike windrunner jacket I lived in. However, this is definitely not good clothing for breakin'! So I pull off the usual crazylegs & Windmill move and then move into the worm/caterpillar manoeuvre whereby the metal pull part on the zipper pierces my cock and spits blood all over the front of my stay-press trousers... Cue: Mother trying to pull trousers off in front of all my cool breakdance mates in their cool breakdance clothes.... Hmmmmm!

Farrah Trousers - Know your Place!

Kid B.
(eurrrrrggggggghhhhhh Cunting /talk, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 12:10, Reply)

Thanks to Mr. Sturmey and Mr. Archer
There is a whole generation of men who know what it feels like to have their knackers impaled by the crossbar mounted gear change lever on a Raleigh Chopper (I'm one of them).

The new model Chopper has a pansy twist-grip gear shift in the interests of health and safety. Boo.
(conkerking, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 11:55, Reply)

I'm now a freak of nature
During some very energetic shagging with my girlfriend of many, many years ago i got a cut on my frenulum. Dunno how, unless she used to hide sharp pointy stuff up her tuppence. Anyhoo over the next few days and weeks of continued vigorous shagging it developed into a hole which eventually got bigger and then healed around the edges. Consequently I have a hole in the bit of fleshy string that keeps me knob and foreskin joined together. It's big enough to get a pencil through. Probably.
(dogspoo, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 11:28, Reply)

Accidental and also deliberate damage
Accidental - When i let my g/f (now mrs turtles head) touch my thingy for the first time. I had been practising twice a day and 3 times on a Sunday for several years....she had not really touched one before.She squeezed it as though trying to pop it, then alternately tried to pull it out to arms length, then ram it back so hard i would become a ladyboy. I had to inform her that it might be better if she was a tad gentler.


Deliberate - I chose to have a vasectomy. What suprised me was that they don't stitch you up, but use cornflour, as it helps to heal better supposedly. So for about a week, whenever I sat down, a small cloud puffed out of my pants.
Best thing was taking 2 cooked bits of pasta tube in a jar to work when i started back, showing the lads my 'souvenirs', then watching them go deathly white when i popped them in my mouth.


Don't worry about the length, it will all be over before you notice it.
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 11:01, Reply)

I didn't hurt my rude bits, someone else did it for me.................
Donkeys years ago I had to have laser surgery up my mimmsie. Not an entirely pleasing experience unless you like the feeling of a staple gun being shot up your undercarriage.

Anyhooooo, there we are in the operating theatre. Me, legs akimbo grasping tightly to my last shreds of dignity, surgeon with his phasers set to stun and a gaggle of theatre nurses. After a couple of minutes of small talk from the surgeon (not an easy thing to do when the bloke is a complete stanger, at eye level with your cnut and is intermittently shooting laser beams up your chuff), I notice a smell of burning. Oh blimmeh, thinks I, who the hell is smoking in a hospital.

Well it was me of course, the smell being my barbequed girls bits. FUCKING OUCH!!!!!!
(Dozey Oates is off to Merkinland soon (:, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 10:22, Reply)

One week from now...
...I'm due in hospital where an esteemed gentleman I've never met will be evicting an uninvited lodger from my nether regions using the gifts of very sharp objects and, I'm hoping, a very very fucking very steady hand.

I'm gutted enough about it now, but I've a feeling I'm going to be a lot more so next week. Women don't know they're born :(

EDIT (after reading Oates' post above): Okay, maybe they do then - at least I'm getting a general anaesthetic for mine - there's no way would I be able to make any smalltalk whatosever beyond 'Just get the fuck on with it' in that setting :)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 9:19, Reply)

Leaves
When i was at school for some unknown reason i thought it would be a good idea to take part in the Duke Of Edinburgh scheme. Unfortunatly the story does not now go into ramblings of how i broke my cock in his arse, it goes like this:
We were sent out on the expedition Exmoor, Exeter, i dunno can't remember. I awoke on the third morning in our freezing tent and really needed to go for a shit, so i ambled about until i found a nice space where none of my mates could see me, curled one out- not a problem. Had no toilet paper or any tissues on me, so reached around for the nearest greenery to remove excess cack, all fine and dandy- however as soon as i pulled my trousers up an intense stinging sensation took over my sphincter and my arse cheeks, i spent the rest of the day walking 30 pissing miles randomly grabbing doc leaves and desperatly wiping them on my arse.
Happy Days.
(bobthebluenose, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 7:14, Reply)

this question is so boring

that I've been having to hit my bollocks with a cricket bat to stay awake.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 4:42, Reply)

Dragster
When I was 8, we were building a house near-ish to where we were living, so we (me, older sister, younger brother) used to ride our bikes from one house to the one being built, and back, with Dad following behind in the trusty Kingswood (yes, it was brown. Metallic, but brown), to make sure we were OK.

I had a Malvern Star Dragster, which had Sturmey Archer gears - control on the crossbar, gears in the rear wheel hub - but one of the gears was a bit on the dodgy side, so every so often, it would slip as power was put to the pedal.

Anyway...End of a long summer day, we'd well and truly worn ourselves out over the course of the day. So, we head back, cycling back home, when I decide to stand up on the pedals, and power away.

The gears slip, and I drop onto the crossbar, saved by my nutsack. I fainted. Immediately.

Next thing I know, I wake up, in enormous pain, with my father looking over me concerned, and my Sister and Brother pissing themselves laughing.

Apparently I fainted while standing up, and cartoon-like, stopped pedalling instantly, and toppled over sideways.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Mon 17 Jul 2006, 2:17, Reply)

Football injuries
The problem with being a goalkeeper is the tendency to occasionally have someone hit a football very hard into your bollocks or becoming entwined with a goalpost. However the most memorable save I've made with my testicle(s)was during a game for the school where we were getting humped.
Their left winger plays a throughball which our right back manages to miss by slipping and falling like Peter Crouch standing in viscous dog shit. The striker is clean through, he's already scored twice, so he's on a hatrick. I come out and narrow the angle and he runs right up to me and toe-pokes it. I get down quickly and save it at the expense of very painful bollocks.
Unfortunately the ball cannoned off mine and off the knee of a defender who was running back and went in the top corner.
If only we could pass the ball as quickly as that.
Oh and a dog once bit me on the arse.
(thePontificator, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 0:32, Reply)

Raleigh Chopper's ARE dangerous
I'm old enough to have enjoyed the pedalled Easy Rider first time round, when the gearstick was still a natty stick-shift mounted on the crossbar.

A day previous, a mate of mine had borrowed my Chopper (f'narr) and crashed it into a tree, bending the front fork. Me n dad had to take it to bits and stomp on the bent bit to fix it.

Cycling back from the park next day, I discovered we hadn't tightened the handle bars up properly, cos they suddenly came loose and I lost steering control.

I hit a HUGE kerbstone about the height of the (tiddly) front wheel, so the bike stopped dead. Normally in that instance you hold onto the handle bars... but they were loose, 'member.

So I catapulted straight forwards at lots of speed, and used a patented testicle / gearstick interface to impede my forward motion.

It fuckin' hurt. Lots.

No apologies for length... I'm quite glad to still have some.
( Skotzmun Blah blah secret passage blah blah diamonds., Mon 17 Jul 2006, 0:15, Reply)

I managed
to stab my Frenulum on the tip nof an ex-girlfriends coil.

Cue loads of pain and blood
(ceebs, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 0:00, Reply)

No yoking
Once chucked an egg at Bob Geldoff. Not really a story about hurting a rude bit, but in theory I did cause some distress to a smelly cunt.

PS. It was no ordinary egg...oh no...this was....HARD BOILED!
(Lt Columbo, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 23:30, Reply)

Another injured knob story............
Lots have been told here already, but I'll add my own.
Back in the early days when I'd just learnt about the joys of pleasuring the ladies me and the then gf were getting down to a bit of hot and heavy. She had just gone on the pill and so this was to be my first outing sans le rubber.
She got on top of me. Good. She reached down and took a hold of little boltneck. Even better. But when my little friend didn't quite go in right and not only bent in the middle, but snapped the banjo string as well! Double whammy!
To this day I will never forget the pain and bruising of a bent dick, but the sickening feeling of tearing flesh( I SWEAR that I heard it go with a gut wrenching crunch!) still makes me feel a bit queasy.
(boltneck sacrificed a smurf to Cthulhu on, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 23:03, Reply)

Imperial Lather
I have mild eczema. Nothing really horrible, but certain things trigger it. Remember this as you read the following story.

Eleven years ago I was young, free and single and at University. It was the start of the new academic year and there were various fresher events. Being an aged research student, these events didn't usually have much of an appeal to me, but I agreed to go to one with friends. On the night of said event, I was having a shower when I decided to relieve my tension, if you get my drift, with the aid of my freshly purchased Imperial Leather Fresh shower gel as lubricant. Unfortunately, the lovely people at Cussons had recently changed the recipe of said product and added something I was allergic to. When I reached my vinegar strokes, to my horror my willy started to burn, then feel rather sore. The gel had taken the top layer of my skin off! I decided to rinse my poor member. The pain was even worse!

I was in agony but as I had agreed to meet up with friends at the bar in twenty minutes, I got dressed and went out, making sure that I was wearing my most roomy pants and jeans.

That night I pulled. I wasn't even trying, but somehow it happened. We went back to her room and started cuddling and one thing led to another. However I refused point blank to take my pants off. Why? For one, my poor gradually healing willy had stuck to the insides of my underwear and my pubes and, more importantly, I knew that getting an erection would be utter agony. I told her that I had eczema on my willy, but it was getting better. She asked to have a look. Her exact words were 'if you think you are going to put that in me you've got another thing coming'.

I made my excuses and left. The relationship didn't last for some reason.

(Luckily it did heal and I have learnt to avoid all shower gels.)
(koinuchan, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 22:04, Reply)

I've bruised my coccyx...
...which while amusingly named isn't really rude. But I did it sliding down a big pile of amethyst rubble in Cornwall and I fell off a 4 foot drop onto my arse.

I also did it a second time at Trago Mills in Devon, where they have an enclosure with three slides in it. One is a vertical drop slide, another is a spirally snake ride and the final one is a bumpy slide. It started raining so they closed down the bumpy slide, but I snuck onto it and discovered precisely why they close it down in light showers - it pretty much doubles the speed at which you go down it, meaning that I missed every 2nd bump and landed painfully on my arse just in time to gather enough speed to miss the next bump. Ow.

Also, and this is barely connected, I once took Ex-Lax to get off of school. It worked for 3 days straight.
(DrDerekDoctors, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 21:46, Reply)

Every now and then when I am sitting down
a pube (stil attached) seems to work it's way under my foreskin and get trapped there. It smarts a bit when I stand up. This doesn't really cause any damage and is easy to fix with a quick right-hand rummage.

The problem is that it only ever seems to happen when I am in public. It leaves me with the dilema of choosing between sticking my hand down my pants in the middle of a busy street, or hobbling to the nearest loo.

I like to go with sticking my hand down my pants in the middle of a busy street.
( Mystery_Bob, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 21:27, Reply)

More my lumbar spine than my bum...but I guess it's near enough
A few years ago I was doing this drama summer school. On the final performance, I slipped and fell. Cue a collective intaking of breath my the audience (I guess they must have heard my spine being CRUSHED like a telescope).

Still, afterwards I maintained that I 'meant' to fall. For a week and a half, I was in an extreme amount of pain in the lower back/posteria vicinity. However, I still maintain that I did the right thing by telling everyone it wasn't an accident. I'd rather suffer the pain and look cool (well, as cool as one can look with a crushed spince and bum) than admit to being a comlete klutz.
(Pixel, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 19:52, Reply)

Somersault Bars
At my local park, there used to be a climbing frame, with monkey bars and two horizontal bars, each about two inches in diameter, for doing somersaults on. When I was about nine, I found out that I could walk across the higher bar, slide down to the lower bar and walk across that. I did this quite often without any mishaps, until one evening when me and my parents stopped off there after parents evening at school. I tried doing the walking across the bars trick. Walked across the higer bar ok, then tried sliding down onto the lower bar. My feet missed, and I landed astride it very painfully. I couldn't sit down for about a week.
More recently, I have just got back from a canooing weekend with a group of friends. Yesterday morning, having put the tents up, we were sitting around talking, when a wasp flies down my friends fairly low-cut top. She got quite badly stung, and had to pour apple juice over it, as we didn't have any vinegar. The rest of the weekend was great, though.
(Pretty strangers and promises, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 18:56, Reply)

Oh, I have another
This one isn't dirty or anything. Walking to my boyfriend's house a couple of days ago, was texting my friend Amy about "gnome graves" which we decided are holes in the ground roughly the size and shape of a gnome's coffin... if gnomes existed (we found a couple at college, we didn't just randomly make it up). So, I was walking over a field, when I happened to put my foot into a gnome grave and fall backwards onto my arse. On the only manhole in the middle of this stupid field. Practically hobbled to my boyfriend's house, where we sexed a bit.

Walking back to college, walking a bit funnily from landing on my bum, as well as rough sex, I put my foot in the same bloody gnome grave and whacked my arse off a rock this time.

I walked like a mong for the rest of the day :(
( Kittenpants, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 18:13, Reply)

Clucking Bell!
news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/1106371.stm

Just remembered about this one - I originally wrote about on alt.tasteless when it happened. It's a tale of a woman who bit her husbands friends bollock off in an argument - and he didn't even notice until the police found it.

That's right - Geordies are so hard that We don't even notice when somebody chews one of our nuts off!!

Or it could be that we're so stupid.....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 18:02, Reply)

Not me but a friend
Heard from a friend about a man who was in the office and went to the toilet to "drop the kids off at the pool". Quite an urgent occasion, he rushed to sit down, hands on the toilet walls, span round and landed (not even enough time to lay down the standard 5 sheets for public toilets). It seems that the lid was cracked and loose.

So somehow as he lowers himself, he manages to get his tip trapped in a crack at the front of the seat, his own weight holding the crack firmly shut. He jumps up in absolute agony and the lid (not being screwed on properly) has slid sideways and he is crushing himself. Amidst the searing pain, he tries to lift his body. He cant. Hes trapped. Upon the final push, as it were, he tries to get himself free, slipping off the loose seat and taking the whole pan with him. Sitting in a pool of his own (and others) faeces, he looks down.

Swelling. Strange colours. Weeks.
(Daveypants laffo, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 17:53, Reply)

womb inflicted....
I've never felt such mortal terror as reading some of these, but at least they occurred after having been deposited on this mortal coil. Mine was inflicted while still inside of my Mummy, bless her.

When I was born there were loads of complications, my mum nearly died, i was an emergency caesarian and they suspected I had water on the brain, this carried on for 2 years, during which time other post-birth checks must have been neglected.

Fast forward to the kind of age when not having two bollocks present and correct assumes greater relevance, and I'm stricken with fear when a school 'mate' (if thats the word) notices. Cue incessant piss taking from a group of 11 year olds.

Went to the doc who diagnosed an 'undescended right testicle'. Here's me thinking a quick massage will coax the little fella into position. Oh no. Instead cue hospital trip, 5 inch incision just above my thigh, through my whole stomach wall into my pelvic cavity, where the surgeon must then have poked it down from there into my sac by hand. He must have looked forward to me on his schedule!

Most intolerable pain ever. I could barely walk for a week, couldn't dress, wash, wipe my own arse. Worse than that, mum decided to take me to the cinema to cheer me up. We saw Mrs Doubtfire. You try laughing when all your stomach muscles are out of commission. More like ha ha yelp!
(tribalfunkster, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 17:30, Reply)

Busted my nuts popping a wheelie
When I was 6, I went to a friends house and we ere playing outside. He had a Raleigh Grifter, and I was on his sisters Striker (small version of the Grifter, less cool). As I had a Striker at home, I thought I'd show off and pop a wheelie, I'd been practising you see. Anyway, there I am bombing along, when I lean back on the handlebars, I think you know where this is going...and they come off the frame. Fuck me, I went forward, impaled my nutsack where the handlebars should have been and cried like a baby. When I got home, there was blood everywhere and had to have a few days off school, and everytime I need a slash, it felt shards of glass were passing through my shaft. Thankfully there was no lasting damage and learnt to stop showing off on shit bikes.
(dmc, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 17:19, Reply)

Another one.
a few months ago, I was taking a piss, when the doorbell rang, so double the pressure and finish up quickly, a quick hand wash and almost to the front door when the pain hit.

I had managed to grate the bishops roll neck on zip, luckily not bad just caught it a little bit. staggered to the door, was polite to the hausfrau and then when she had gone decided to check the damage, and possibly "apply antiseptic cream", the damage was a little graze, that had pissed blood all over my nice white checked boxers.

Also being a graze it had a rather large scab that I was paranoid of it breaking and either bleeding more or even worse scarring.

luckily now it is OK, but nearly 3 weeks without a wank through fear of scaring my bishops rollneck was by far the worst part.
( Neon Blue Ah ha ha haa! I feel positively capital!, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 17:14, Reply)

A friend of mine...
www.chortle.co.uk/news/july04/wilty1.htm
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 16:36, Reply)

Story Of The Lost Ball
True story of my own, and I still have the wristband from the Swiss hospital to prove it.

I was about 14-15 and was away with the school on a Skiing holiday to Switzerland

We hiked to a playground - so I decided to sit on the see saw whilst I caught my breath.

Unfortunately for me I was sitting the other way, so what I didn't notice was that 7-8 people were pushing on the other side, so that I was being raised up in the air.

At first I thought it was a joke by my mates, but unknown to me was that my mates were being held back by a group of scallies, whilst all their mates were lifting me up, and preparing to drop me (see, I was an intelligent unconventional type, which baffled their collective 5 brain cells).

I was now cacking myself, as I began to drop, and drop fast.

I was leaning to my left hand side, and I attempted (unwisely) to support my dropped weight on my left leg. My leg broke just below my knee cap, and the bone came out of the skin. Lovely.

Only, I didn't feel the pain in my leg for about 9 days afterwards, as next in line for a meeting with Mr. See-Saw were my family jewels.

I cannot describe the pain I felt at that moment. Girls, ask any guy how it feels to be hurt down below, and they'll tell you. This was about 6 times worse, easily.

As I crumpled to the ground, the teachers swarmed around me, winced at my leg, and phoned an ambulance.

This is when I cupped by swollen nadgers, and realised that I couldn't refer to them using a plural anymore. One of them had gone. Seemingly nowhere.

When I arrived at the hospital, I spent 6 days in recovery getting a metal pin put into my leg, and have it put in a cast, which EVERYONE signed.

The doctors said to me that my bollock might not come out of my body for up to 3 days, and if it didn't return after that, they would have to operate to bring it back out. Luckily for me, the day they scheduled me for surgery, it popped back out without warning.

It was the strangest, horriblest, most painful thing that has happened to me in my life.

Still hate the little bastards for doing that to me, but to my luck 3 of them were expelled for it. Serves 'em right.

{insert length joke here, as my length would fill the page} badum tish !
(tangentboy strikes again, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 16:33, Reply)