What It’s Like To Have Your Penis Stolen


August 3, 2019

“The biggest change in my life since this happened? Hmmm. It’s hard to pick one thing. It’s a lot, you know? Well, if I had a gun to my head and absolutely had to pick, I would say sex.”

“Sex and peeing.”

Not like I wanted this to happen, but I always thought that if it did, it would be in a rowdy place, like under the bridge in Ikeja or under the bridge in Oshodi. Somewhere badass at least, just so I wouldn’t have to watch people snicker when I tell them about it.

In hindsight, I should’ve known the second it happened. I think I did, actually. I felt a tingle in my nether regions. But at the time, I thought it was just me finally discovering my love for being choked.

I realise the backstory is needed here.

It was a Friday afternoon. The ice cream parlour was packed and there was a long ass queue, which made sense because the sun was out in all its fiery glory. As with any queue containing Nigerians, there was a scramble not unlike that one scene from that Brad Pitt zombie movie no one remembers. At some point, I noticed that the girl in front of me would sigh whenever I mistakenly bumped into her. I understood her pain (it was an uncomfortable situation to be in) but I became irritated after a while because who the hell shit in your oatmeal, am I right? I tapped her shoulder and (in what I think was a calm voice) asked her to relax. I was going to explain that I was only bumping into her because of all the pushing when this happened:

After people around got her hands off my throat, she stormed out of the shop angrily. People asked what I did and I said nothing. Was the experience weird? Yes. But I really couldn’t be bothered at the time because her leaving meant that I got to get my ice cream on time.

The ice cream (vanilla and strawberry with bits of Oreos and waffles scattered in) was DELICIOUS btw.

It wasn’t until I got home and was doing my usual “Daniel Craig on the beach in Casino Royale” impression in front of the mirror in my underwear that I noticed something different.

There was no bulge, which was weird because there was supposed to be a bulge. Not to brag, but my bulge was huge. A thing of legend. If I had a dollar for every compliment I’d gotten…

I’m sorry. I’m digressing.

Not seeing a bulge sent shivers down my spine so severe that I had to freeze for a bit to let the feeling pass. With shaky hands, I slowly pulled down my boxers and saw… nothing.

My penis was gone.

The entire area was so smooth it could’ve passed for a Ken doll’s crotch.

Legend has it that Mariah Carey is still threatened by the high-pitched scream I let out that day.

You can probably tell already, but my mind’s first defence against traumatic events is countering it with humour. This is why the first thing that came to my mind after screaming is this comic strip I saw a few years ago about what people who steal penises do with them.

A sound I can only describe as a chuckle mixed with a sob escaped my lips. This led to a full-on nervous breakdown, brought on by the thought that after drinking so much water earlier in the day (ice cream included), I’d have to pee at some point and with my penis gone, I had no idea how that was going to happen.

I paced around my dimly-lit room naked, wondering if the magic used to do this was also strong/considerate enough to rework my anatomy so I could still pee some way. (Out of my ass, maybe?) And then I had my worst thought:

“What if the magic didn’t care? What if my insides remain the same and my bladder just keeps filling with pee and explodes because there’s no outlet?!”

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because a strong wave of nausea woke me up. I sprinted to the bathroom and assumed the position over the toilet, wondering if I’d somehow gotten food poisoning on top of everything, when a warm, salty liquid began filling my mouth.

It was pee.

This was when the full effect of what had happened finally hit me. When all the pee was out, I sat on the floor next to the toilet, retching and crying. When did this happen?? I Was this my life now? Would I have to do a “Linda Blair in The Exorcist” impression every time I had to pee??

What was I going to do? I couldn’t tell anyone. I’d trend online and become known as the guy who pees out of his mouth. No way. So I kept my mouth shut. Until now. And that’s only because you’ve promised to keep my identity a secret.

It’s been six months. Peeing is still torture, but it’s either that or internet infamy, so I’m good. I still have sex btw. I’m not going to explain how, though, because Nigeria isn’t ready for that yet.

If you’re wondering how I found out that the girl from the ice cream parlour was the culprit (even though it should’ve been obvious given the series of events), she told me. She somehow got my email address and sent me a long ass message explaining why she did what she did. Apparently, during the scramble at the ice cream shop, she believed that all the times I bumped into her were my attempts to rub my penis on her butt. So, she punished me by taking it.

I haven’t given up hope, though. I mean, I may have found a way to live with my current predicament, but I still want my penis back. I haven’t been able to find her so I’ve been sending messages to the email address she messaged me with.

Fingers crossed hoping she replies one day.

Click here to read other stories in the NIGERIAN HORROR STORY series.

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