The Wax Story

There are many benefits to having a boyzilian wax like hygiene, easier to wipe your ass after a dump, and it makes your dick look bigger. If porn stars are doing it, then it can’t be wrong.

When Muthu asked if I wanted a free boyzilian wax session, I paused at that thought and took a full day before I took up the offer. There were after all, several factors that eclipsed the all enticing ‘Free’ and I was weighing out the ascribed attributes of the offer.

For one, this was a session with a trainee – who is a guy and will be handling my penis, and overlooked by a female trainer. This meant that I was going to lie bottomless on the bed, leg arched like I was doing yoga on my back and have two people fussing over my man-bit.

Secondly, I’ve heard horrific stories of bruising and scalding waxes, all of which were products of inexperience. Was I truly prepared to lose my ability to have sex for a week, because of an impetus to exploit all that is free?

When I finally did turn up for the appointment, the thought of being in the room with two strangers no longer took precedence. I was now plagued with a far greater crisis; the runs. Over the last couple of hours, I was in the toilet 4 times, passing out stool that resembled more like curry.

Now hypothetically speaking, if I accidentally shit as a motor response to pain from the waxing, do I have to pay for laundry? And is it perfectly ok to kill myself because of embarrassment?

I’ve been told that having an erection actually aids the whole process of having hair ripped from your shaft, but I knew that was never going to happen because having a man have his hands on my balls has just about the same arousal quotient as watching a funeral and I don’t see how an erection is remotely possible for a heterosexual male. It will be like leg amputees trying to pass the standing broad jump.

Muthu also assured me that the trainer was highly experienced, a mother of two and she has probably seen more penises than Annabel Chong. The thing he failed to tell me was that she was young and attractive enough for me to have her on my Christmas wish list.

She quickly introduced herself and I had to pretend I was entirely comfortable with having one guy holding my balls while another girl that was younger than I was, looked on. So I quickly positioned myself in the most exemplified stance of comfort, which is essentially the hands behind the head position – coincidentally, is the adopted pose whenever your dick is the focal subject, like when having a blowjob.

I was in that pose for 4 mins, just right after the 3rd time he pulled off the strip, then I realized the default position of the hands should always be by the bed side to grip the sheets.

Guy: “Wow, you nort bard. Most guys always shouting you know.”

This was a Pinoy guy – possibly gay, cupping my balls while telling me that screaming was a perfectly common thing to do. Real men don’t scream. We laugh at the face of pain.

Me: “You don’t want to hear me scream. This is bearable.”
Trainer: “That’s because now only the sides. We haven’t gone to the centre yet. It will be a lot more painful later.”
Me: “What?”

As he got closer to the dick where the hair was a lot denser, every strip he pulled was like ripping a part of me with it. It was horrible. The pain was stinging and exponentially greater than it was just half an inch to the side. I might actually not survive this.

Me: “Has anyone passed out before?”
Both: “Hahahahaha.”
Me: "No, seriously."

I hate it when people thinking I’m joking about stuff.

In between, I said, ‘Fuck’ almost incessantly then I apologized for my language and decided the best way to distract myself from the whole masochistic episode, was so engage myself in a conversation. So I started chatting up the trainer and it was weird because here I was talking to a girl, but her eye was primarily focused on my dick.

So this is how it feels to be objectified.

She: “You should wax your thighs also. Makes it smoother”
Me: “I don’t think I’ll need it. No one touches my thigh.”
She: “Then your girlfriend touch already also shiok ma..”
Me: “Haa, I….”

Before I could even finish up my sentence, the guy pulled a strip off the shaft of the penis. And this, was so painful, it was like putting my dick against a grater, rubbing it then pouring salt over it. I was entirely out of breath and it lifted my head right off the bed.

Me: “….FFFFF....UUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKIIINNNGGGGG HHEEELLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!”

I quickly looked to see if my dick was still there.

Me: “Please tell me that was the most painful part of the wax, because I cannot sit through another one of those. If the balls are going to hurt as much as this, then can we skip the balls, because I don’t mind having hair on the balls. I’m serious.”

She kept assuring me that this hurt so much because it was my first time and that I needed to continuously come back for waxing so that the hair would be finer.

She: “4-6 weeks, then you must come back again.”
Me: “I am in a little too much pain to even think it to be a sane decision to put myself through this again.”
She: “The next time it will be about 50% of the pain only.”
Me: “Really? That means 50% less chance of passing out.”

I looked down to see the hair all gone. It was finally over, because I will need to start cursing if this went on any longer.

Guy: “Okay, now please turn over.”
Me: “Massage?”
Guy: “Hahaha, no. We need to warx your butt crack.”
Me: “Is it okay if we skip that for today?”
Guy: “It’s really nort as painful.”

As if I'd trust anything anyone had to tell me now, but the good thing was that it really didn’t hurt. The only thing I was really worried about was my stomach, because it is one thing to shit while I was lying butt down, but to shit when he is in the midst of waxing? I believe that would be the first, for all of us.

When everything was done and he got down to tidying with the tweezer, I wondered if the dick was still even capable of an erection. I could still feel it throbbing, so I knew there was a pulse, faint as it might be, but still within the reach of resuscitation.

He went through a list of ‘don’ts’ that I had to abide, which included not bathing in hot water or rubbing the areas because it would make it susceptible to infection. I didn’t really give what he was saying a shit, because there was only one concern I had.

Me: “Can I still have sex?”
Guy: “Yes.”

And that was the best thing I heard all day.