Battle of the Bulge in my Pants
The "These Were My Best Jeans, Dammit!" Offensive (16 December, 19:44 – 25 January, 19:45) was a major "German frankfurter" offensive launched towards the end of the Christmas and beginning of New Year period through the forested make-out region of Belgium Street, London (and more specifically of Wallonia Secondary School: hence its French name, Bataille des Willy), the party itself occurring in my Y-Fronts. The offensive was called Unternehmen Wacht am Rhein (translated as That freak's underwear has gone as wet as the Rhine or Operation "Watch where you're shootin' that stuff, you twat") by the languages student witnesses who turned up for the court case. But the unfortunate incident is better known known to the general public simply as the Battle of the Bulge in my Pants. The “bulge” was the initial incursion my "dachshund" put into the lining of my underwear, as seen in drawings presented to the judge.
The objectives of my "flying Dutchman" were achieved and the seams of my underpants were thoroughly ripped asunder. This was the turning tide of the period of my adolescence back in 1994. My nipples had swollen like fuck and my voice went back to being squeaky once in a while, but all fears of turning into an infernal girl were allayed by the immensity of the "bulge" in my pants. Being more of a man still has its downsides, I suppose.
One day, my bedside phone was ringing and that and my mate said "heya mate, bring your jar of E and we'll get high at the park before the bus comes, maybe even see a pink bus instead" and I was like "yeah okay, whatever".
So I got out of bed, put on me clothes, denim jeans and blank purple polo shirt with the collars un-popped (since it was the early 1990s and everything) and swiped the jar of ecstasy tablets from the bathroom cabinet I hid 'em in. It being the early 1990s and everything I put some sounds on my vintage 1987 sony walkman ("Parklife" by Blur, it being the early 1990s and everything) and nicked me bro's bike to cycle down the park (it being the early 1990s and everything, and let's face it, there was fuck all else to go to back then).
My mate who had ringed me wasn't there when I arrived and still hadn't come after an hour or something and I thought "well the bus will have gone by now, that twat". So I decided to just start without him. Unscrewed the lid, took a few ecstasy tablets, popped 'em in me mouth, back of the net. Score.
I sat there, like a mug, sittin' on the park bench. Orange morning was crisp as, fuck all about. Most importantly, nothing happening. No hallucinations, no woozy beats, no pink buses neither. Just me and my walkman pumping out some house. "Fuck", I thought "fuck". I weren't so sure if the tabs had started to make an effect, but I threw away the lid, bunged the whole lot down me throat. Bring on the pink buses.
Then, all of a great sudden, I noticed that my jeans showed evidence of a third leg. "Well fuck me sideways", I'm saying to meself "that's not going to work now, is it? My jeans only got space for the two legs. After all, I only remember having two legs to start with. I wasn't paying any more than a fiver for me best jeans having three leg holes in it". I kept looking at it, and it was like the more I looked at it, the more it grew and became more acquaintenced with me.
"Oh shit!" I'm now saying to meself, "that's not a third leg! That's me penis! It's the size of a canoe!". Initially there was some immediate joy. I had a penis the size of a canoe. All the girls in 9KE are gonna faint. At least, when my humongous urethra slaps them about like they're fucking high-fiving me. Then I remember I'm thinking, this feeling ain't joy. It's a horrible feeling, soon that penis is gonna need another shoe and that, but it's definitely not a joyous feeling. Oh shit, I'm thinking, the E isn't working after all.
I used my hands to feel about me pockets, of what space I had of them to meself, to get a gander at the jar, see how powerful the E was. I get it out and look at the label. "Blimey," I said to meself, "This isn't E at all. It's fucking viagra!". Me dad's viagra, to be precise... He's a miner. So right now he must be on cloud nine in the pits at the moment, presuming he takes his tablets at the workplace (fucked if I know).
Then, morning still fresh, students started turning up for the bus. "Fuck", I'm thinking to meself, "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck".
Well, it began to pop out, didn't it? Out the busted fly of me trousers, out the trouser legs themselves, or through me sleeves, the ding dong tried everything to break free. I could've gone to the pub and spill everyone's pint.
So there I was, still sitting there on the mildewed bench, folks walking past, more and more of them. Most of 'em students like me, some from my own classes too, but also some old ladies going by to the bingo hall or whatever the fuck.
"Old ladies" I thought, "there are old ladies walking past, and I have a boner big enough to put people on the moon again". I take my rucksack cautiously and dump it on my lap. Oof. That hurt. "Wait, why the fuck am I thinking of old ladies when I have a boner big enough t- Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit". I've gotta admit, I kind of lost track of what I was thinking, or even doing for that matter, at this moment. I decided to try and eliminate all knowledge of the passing jurassics and stare inanely at all the girls from school instead. It sort of worked. I wasn't thinking of old people any more, nope. Not even thinking of 'em. I tried to think how it's a shame that Thatcher isn't PM anymore, she's the only canyon-esque twat on earth who could handle my goolies now.
But it sort of went from bad to worse, more or less. My eyes darted from girl to girl, relinquishing in their beauty. Man, I went to a great school for females. The most petite of noses, the delicate eyes, the most curvaceous of waists. Hairstyles ranging from cute brunette bobs to whole golden waterfalls. I wondered if their tears fell like that... And then their assets... Oh man. I could go on all morning on that bench.
"Fuck it" I thought, and legged it for the tree. I used my penis as a pole to vault onto the branch (no joke, I press bench when I can at home).
All of a fucking sudden I feel like an assassin complete with rifle. The tree overhangs one of the main paths leading out of the park towards the town, and it's to people as a tin is to sardines. I could anyone of these sad fucks if get overexcited. The mention of which, the royal family. HM The Queen to be specific. Growing up in a C of E school, there was only one picture I could jack off to in the toilets: Queen Bessie herself.
My parents moved me to a comprehensive after some year seven kid opened my stall door (I swear to god it was locked) and fucking traumatised him almost irreparably (man, I wonder what he'd do if he saw me now...). I hear the kid gets called names, like peeping tom or whatever. Better than what they called me before my parents called in the EVAC. Holy shit...
So there I was, having use the double doors to get into the science block. Found me classroom, and then join class. Fuming teacher, Mrs. Bateman points to clock denoting it's 9:05am. Fuck me, she's right, it is early.
Sitting down, I noticed me mate who had called only this morning. "Where the fuck were you" I ask him. He said "nevermind that, here drink this" as he handed me a glass of water. It looked relatively watery to me anyway. So I glugged it down, I never turn down freebies from my mates, and gargle it a bit, annoying teacher Bateman. Well, some of the girls thought it was funny anyway.
I put the glass down, and me mate, he's looking at me like he can't believe what I've done or something, "I can't believe you did that" he said. "Yeah, yeah I think your face just said that or something". He's bemused as.
Class began no sooner as I licked my lips clean of any remaining liquid. Teacher began to speak "The headteacher would like me to inform all students in the science block that a Tadalafil jar has gone missing from the chemicals store. My husband, Dr. Bateman wants it back." Tadalawhat?
You know how some horrible old people burp and fart and sneeze at the same time? Well I can top that: I burped, went hard and my £6.99 jeans were torn to shit all at once. At least in the park I had kept my junk indoors. Now it's on display, in front of most of the class.
Before I can effectively fight the exposure, people are sketching images of my nether regions (because digital cameras don't exist) and falling about in laughter at my freak anatomy. This is terrible, I thought, the bulge was broken! The enemy was breaking out! This is a problem that not even 19,000 US troops could prevent.
Eventually the classroom fills with policeman and they declare me under arrest for public indecency.
There I was, slung in the nick, having to be lock up in a cell all to myself (something about the police not wanting me with other prisoners or something, I didn't understand) and the next morning, the rozzers took me to the city's courtroom. Naff place it is. All teak and ermine and that.
So anyway, I'm asked to lead myself into the dock to await questioning and stand up for the judge when he pops in. I'm there, about 30 minute, 45 or so before from all doors left, right, up and down of the court, flood in big fat men crowned with wigs that would make barber weep. The grey, rank, establishment imagery's not even making a dent in me erection none, weirdly.
It all drags on, then I'm thinking to meself, "that's a lovely hammer, that is" looking at the judge at his own dock thing with the hammer and beer glass coaster or whatever, "I bet he won't mind me using his hammer to sort me bonanza erection out". So I's stick through the whole procession or whatever and wait until the main bigwig utters the phrase "court adjourned". Then as he's turning, right, I steps up and swipes the hammer. Before I arouse (heh) general suspicion, I grasps the hammer hard start thwacking away at the Bismarck moored in my boxers.
"What in God's name are you doing young man!?" Fuck, I thought. The main bigwig reared his head towards me and started fuming like I was with his daughter or his wife or his mum or whatever. "You repulsive, nauseating insect. That hammer is property of the law and is therefore HM The Queen's property. Officers! Detain that man.".
"The Queen?" I exclaimed, "oh fu-".
The top of Mount Everest could not rival the judge that day.
They all got the message, the authorities and that, and they stick me (alone) in another cell, and gave it a week or so for the viagra to wear off. Hadn't I not downed the whole jar of the stuff, I wouldn't have five limbs for so long.
I was taken to a different, bigger, more Jewish kind of courtroom and they give me two headphones (one for me head, the other to ensure my bulge is listening as well). The judge decrees to the jury and that, that the only sentence that'd be passed would be something that solve the bulge in my pants once and for all; a final solution. Judge declared that I were to be subject to an operation to conduct a circumcision upon myself, "to which end is not ascertained". I escaped from my cell before they could do anything. Turns out my penis was as good as a truncheon (for beating off guards) as a pole for vaulting.
My docking port soon went back to normal after a week or so of hiding. They still have wanted posters looking for "a massive dick".
I was able to press my advantage after the god-awful affair though. As a result, I developed a fear of jars containing tablets and thus I got over my E addiction. I cleaned up my act, did better in school, went to university and now I'm a merchant banker with plenty of money rolling around me in times where the government is obsessed with that stuff. The only downside is that people think I have this job because I'm compensating for something. What they don't know, eh.
And now I kinda miss having the late extended appendage. Well, I'm not exactly bad as I am now, but I didn't get a proper chance of using it for a kind of max-power release, apart from when the local judge was in the way. I kind of miss that opportunity. But I guess the ultimate release is a second chance in life.
- Battle of the Bulge, an all-star cast attempt to fight of the liquid tide of the white-uniformed enemy overflowing the Ardennes
- Patton, Patton dies in car accident after his boner takes control of the steering wheel of his jeep in erotic moment
- Band of Brothers, Part Six: Mah Stones!, and Part Seven: The Breaking Point: Man, I'm Gonna Need New Trousers
- Black Sheep Squadron, Black sheep who fly airplanes have to fight Japanese air force pilots who want to shag them
- Call of Duty: United Offensive, FPS in control of soldier attempting to avoid the bromide prescription in hot beverages and fuck every Belgian chick in sight
- Medal of Honor: European Assault, similar, but player has to escape from the bulge of European homosexuals
- Only after some birds tried nesting on my medicine balls. No, not that kind of bird...
- "Son, I love being in the military! IT MAKES ME HARD. OH SHI-"