Like any other straight male I'm somewhat proud of the fact that I seldom see other men's penises. Yet, like any other straight male with an internet connection, I've seen a lot of pornography and the first time I saw an apadravya was about fifteen years ago in a professionally taken porn photo. My initial reaction was, "Wow, that's cool but it had to hurt". I thought that I'd like to have one myself if I didn't have to fly to New York to do it, and if I could tolerate the pain. Neither condition seemed very likely.
At A Glance Author Mark C. Contact maninroom5@yahoo.com When N/A Artist Shawna Studio Psychopathic Ink Location Bloomington, IL, USA Fifteen years later much has changed but--hey--internet porn was still free and more available than ever. I saw the apadravya for the second time and once again I was interested. Now, however, it was a more realistic desire. The piercing boom had put a tattoo/piercing shop on every corner of my two college town.
Body modification was everywhere and even an anti-social guy like me was into it. An apadravya wouldn't be my first body mod, but it would be my most extreme. I had the usual ear lobe piercing plus a helix and tongue piercing. On my chest, a serpent style dragon encircled a pentagram (taken from Starhawks Truth or Dare). I figured that if I could get a dick piercing under my belt (no pun intended) then maybe my piercing itch would be satisfied without submitting to several less exotic piercings before arriving at "the big one"; and if not then at least I'd know that I could handle any future pain effectively.
A quick Google search enlightened me about the several ways the male genitals could be pierced but after looking at them all I still favored the apadravya. Narrowing my search criteria on the apa alone unearthed my worst fears. I encountered phrases such as "most painful and dangerous male piercing", "longest recovery time", "loss of sensation", and the scary-as-fuck problem of "avoiding the main artery". Yet all these concerns evaporated when placed against the single benefit which every account repeated--echoing through the piercing community in a reverent hushed awe--this piercing "enhances the female's pleasure during intercourse" and "she will thank you". Most male piercings are simply decorative but there's a nearly universal agreement that the apadravya is functional. So when someone asks me why I'd allow a stranger to shove a needle through the head of my prick the answer is simple. Chicks like it and I like chicks.
Checking my watch I realized that I'd just spent the last 30 minutes looking at dicks on the internet. In that time I had reached two conclusions:
1: Most people are lousy photographers--I'd have to do better when I took my photo.
2: I was gifted from God--because I put 95% of these guys to shame.
The following week I contacted one of my more dubious friends and purchased eight 40mg methadone tablets. Taken correctly this is about three weeks worth of pain killers--much more than I needed--but my friend insisted I purchase at least this many. (They don't call them "pushers" for nothing.) Lastly, I made two other wise purchases: a package of dark colored Fruit of the Loom briefs and an athletic supporter with cup. The supporter was to catch blood throughout the day and protect myself on the job. The colored briefs would hide any blood which did seep through and save me from ruining my usual white briefs.
I won't name the first piercing studio I visited but I'll tell you about their fiasco of lousy service which caused me to ultimately go elsewhere. First I had to wait three days for them to order the right sized barbell. When I returned the piercer was out sick. The next day I missed him because he was running late. The following day the shop was closed. In all, I made five wasted trips before giving up. I began to think that it would be so much easier if our organs were removable. I could just tell the guy at the shop, "Yeah, I'm here to drop off my dick for the apadravya. I'll pick it up on my lunch hour tomorrow."
I mentioned my problem to a friend who suggested Shawna at Psychopathic Ink in Bloomington, IL. I stopped off at Psychopathic on the way home and dropped inside to ask the usual questions. Shawna wasn't there but her husband was, along with tattoo artist Art. Art was able to answer all my piercing questions and Shawnas husband offered to run home, pick her up, and bring her back if I wanted the piercing done immediately. He had the phone in his hand before I stopped him and said I'd just make an appointment for 2:00 pm tomorrow.
The following day I took 40mg of methadone over a 2 hour period leading up to the piercing (kids, don't do this at home). I dropped back into Psychopathic Ink at 2:00 pm and Art told me Shawna was running late and would be there shortly. After a five day delay at the first studio I figured I could wait an hour or so. Besides, it allowed more time for the methadone to kick in. In the meantime, I discussed tattoos and piercing with Art.
"I got a Prince Albert myself", he confessed.
I merely nodded and feigned interest. It just seems wrong to have anything protruding from the end of my manhood. After all, the urethra was there for a reason and blocking it seemed both ugly and counterproductive. I consider the PA to be about as attractive as having a booger hanging out your nose. "Hey baby, wanna see something. Check this out!"
Then Shawna arrived and it was show time. She played some crappy "Nu Metal" band that combined heavy metal with a strong thumping bass and someone imitating a gangster rapper. I guess from the name of the shop I should have known it was Insane Clown Posse, but I don't listen to that sort of music. After hearing two songs I realized why bands like ICP and Slipknot wear masks and makeup. If my band sounded like that I'd wear a disguise too.
She asked me to remove my pants completely, which seemed a bit excessive to me. I would have much rather simply dropped them, but that would have made it more difficult to straddle the bench. However, I obeyed and sat on the bench half naked, with her sitting on a stool between my legs. She immediately began to wipe down the area to be pierced with antibacterial liquid. It was a strange feeling to have an attractive female wiping her hands over my dick and knowing that I was not supposed to get excited. Usually when I undress for a woman her husband isn't in the room with us.
The next step was to mark the entry and exit points for the needle and I was thankful when I noticed that she was going to mark the bottom side first. I already knew that placement of the bottom hole should be determined first because the complex shape and flexibility of the foreskin made selection difficult. Once the bottom point was found it would be easier to locate the best possible top point since this would protrude from the head, and that skin was basically uniform. She originally placed the bottom point slightly off from where I would have liked it but I said nothing. I trusted her opinion and desperately wanted her to avoid hitting the artery. After examining the mark, however, she decided against it, wiped it off, and began again. Her second mark was exactly where I had originally wanted the piercing and I was immensely happy to see that she had independently reached the same conclusion. From there, marking the top point was quick and logical.
"Now I gotta clamp it", she said.
I'd read a lot of negative things about clamping the penis. Several people have complained that the clamp hurt just as bad as the needle and there have been cases of tissue damage from poorly placed clamps. I envisioned a massive piece of tackle the size of a toaster, with teeth like a bear trap, or perhaps sticking my penis into a garlic press. Yet, the other option was for her to attempt the piercing free hand and that sounded worse than a epileptic nurse giving an IV to a fat lady with jello arms. All things considered, I'd rather have the clamp for a couple minutes than a crooked piercing scar forever.
Seeing the actual clamp made me feel stupid. It wasn't anything special or complex. It was, in fact, a standard medical clamp very similar to a pair of scissors with flattened blades and ending with an eyelet. It fitted on my penis with the eyelet positioned over the markings like a bullseye. With the clamp correctly placed it was almost impossible to miss the mark. Once it was fitted I relaxed slightly. Pinched inside, the head of my prick seemed smaller because all that spongy tissue was being squeezed. The needle would only penetrate less than an inch of compressed flesh.
I won't elaborate upon the actual piercing. Shawna told me to relax and she shoved the needle through on my second deep breath. I had taken four times the recommended amount of methadone and I still felt the pain. It wasn't the worst pain in my life, but it was damn close. I didn't look down because I didn't want to see what was happening but when her head dipped low I knew she was screwing on the barbell. She sat up straight again and told me it was finished.
It was perfect; exactly as I'd envisioned it beforehand. Researching at BME had taught me that you're supposed to tip tattoo and piercing people but I wasn't sure if it was the usual 15% or not. I did the only thing I could do to show appreciation: I gave her everything I had. It was only about $10 extra but knowing that I gave her all my money seemed right, even though she probably didn't realize what I was doing at the time.
The only problem I had was the barbell was a standard 14 gauge and--not to brag--but it seemed too short. The balls pressed too deeply into my flesh but I assumed this was due to swelling. I waited a week but things became worse. The balls nearly vanished into the piercing. The good news was that the piercing itself had healed enough that I could already move up to a 12 gauge painlessly. However, once again--not to brag--but the 12 gauge was also too short and the balls wanted to vanish into the piercing. I could maybe move up to a 10 gauge but that was just too thick. I didn't want a barbell that size running through my penis; if I should ever remove it permanently it would leave a noticeable scar. Instead, I'd probably need a custom length 12 gauge and until it arrived I found a clever solution. I purchased a 12 gauge horseshoe shaped barbell and straightened it with vice and pliers. That was long enough and will hold me over until the custom jewelery arrives.
Despite this, I'd give Shawna and Psychopathic Ink top ratings. The piercing itself was fast, professional, and almost bloodless. The aftercare instructions were adequate and she had warned me that the piercing would probably need a larger gauge once it healed, so I knew what was coming. I'm in love with this piercing and I'd go there again.