Although I always liked the aesthetic of a PA, I decided some time ago that I'd never get one. They were too extreme, I thought, they weren't for uncut men, and they weren't for men who weren't hung. I had body-image issues which meant that dropping my shorts for a stranger was not going to happen. No way, no thank you.
At A Glance Author Andy Gates Contact andyg@ravenfamily.org When It just happened Artist Kat Studio Blue Banana Location Exeter, UK Or so I thought.
On midwinter 2001, coming out of the back of a spell of depression, I did a magical working to empower myself (you can mail me for details, if you like). Part of that working entailed getting a permanent physical reminder, something that would be always-present to nudge me whenever I flagged. It had to be something that took a load of willpower to do - something way outside my comfort zone. "Fine," said I to my inner voice, "I'll get my dick pierced."
The problem with saying things like that to yourself is that you can't pretend you didn't say them. The pressure to complete the bargain grew rapidly.
After Christmas I did some research, confirming that I wanted a Prince Albert and that my chosen piercer was a good 'un. Of all the options, a PA was the most aesthetic to my eye; an apydyvra or amplallang really required a cut penis, and I wasn't going to get circumcised in order to get this done: there's such a thing as going too far. I ride a bike daily, too, so a guiche was out of the running.
My chosen piercer was Kat at Blue Banana. I'd checked her out earlier by having her stretch my lower lobe, which gave me a good impression of whether she was a good person. While she was sterilising her stretching spike, we discussed PAs and the various issues: healing, aftercare, whether it mattered if I was uncut. I found myself as much at ease as you can be under the circumstances, and decided to trust myself to her hands.
This morning, I went in for my PA. I'm not sure how many genital piercings they get at 10:00am on a Monday morning - what a way to start the week! While I babbled nervously, she got me relaxed and left me to clean up and lie back on the couch while the jewellery sterilised.
I had read that PA's didn't hurt that much. Since I already have a tongue, labret, three lobes and a cartilage, I was expecting this to me moderate. I was *so* wrong. It was absolute screaming agony - the front-of-house guy turned up the stereo to drown out my cursing.
If you want a scale, I'd rate my tongue at 6, my labret at 5, braking my finger at 8, a high-speed face-plant onto tarmac at 8, and this right up there at 9.
I have a tight urethra. That's probably what it was. The recieving tube hurt like nothing I have ever experienced and it was all I could do not to bail out of the studio. After the tube was in, the needle went in behind my glans, and the ring was passed through and fitted. I don't know what happened exactly, because I didn't pay much attention: I was lying on my back, eyes scrunched up tight, gripping the couch and sweating heavily. I couldn't even tell exactly when the flesh was pierced. Much kudos to Kat for getting on with it which I was howling like a baby.
I have pitiful pain tolerance. That's probably important from a magical point of view: if this had been easy, it would not have been as valid.
I had a 2.4mm gauge 19mm black titanium BCR put in: a little smaller than the usual 24mm ring but I'm relatively small. It looks great and there's not much swelling. My foreskin covers it entirely and comfortably when soft. I'll let you know what it looks like hard when I can get hard - now is not the time!
I was wrapped in tissue and packed into a latex glove (Mister Happy does chicken impressions!), tucked into my shorts and packed, slowly, our of the studio.
Initially there was some bleeding, but not a lot. My first attempt to pee was nasty - man, that hurt like crazy, for just a few drops. Seeing blood mixed with the urine was a little disconcerting, too, but I'd been warned to expect it. Now, fifteen hours after it was done, the bleeding has stopped (though I expect it to start up again after morning wood) and I can finally pee without howling in agony.
I'd been advised, while it was raw, that to ease the sting I could pee into a glass of warm water. It works a treat: get naked in the shower, fill a pint glass with tepid water, and dangle your penis into it. Now, gingerly, pee. Just a little. It slops everywhere, but hey, you're in the shower so don't sweat it - the water takes the worst of the sting out of it. Change it frequently,
So did the magic work? Yes, absolutely. My poor body-image has been almost immediately replaced by a feeling that this has made my penis beautiful. I feel more balanced and stable. And I feel that I can do anything. Hey, I just let someone stick a spike in my dick! How can anything the mundane world has to offer possibly be scary after that?