Beep! Beep! Beep! The brain piercing sound wakes me from my attempt at a wet dream. "Gosh darn alarm clock," I slur, drool pouring from my mouth. I roll out of my warm, comfy bed and onto the cold, hard floor. I like to wake up like a Navy SEAL, hard and fast. Don't ask why, it's just my way.

Lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling, I try to muster up enough strength to rise to my feet. The only thing that makes me want to stand is the fact that there are a lot of single horny females out there that need my attention. My last count was 313 million; almost the entire population of most small countries. Unfortunately, I have yet to hit my stride.

Today is the first day of a new week and I am going to shine. I am going to shine like a greased up zoo monkey with a 15-inch hard on. My goal today is to make every attempt possible to get laid. It is going to take a lot of strength on my part due to the fact that I suffered a blow last night. And not a good blow.

I am always working on my craft. Sometimes it's good. But when it's bad, it's really bad. I don't know about your book, but having a vacuum nozzle stuck to the end of my prick qualifies as a really bad day in my book. The stench of humiliation permeates my entire being—an odor I am all too familiar with, so I have no problem accepting it.

Dressing takes considerable effort. My prick has swollen to the size of a kiwi fruit and the action of lifting my legs into my pants sends pain shooting down to my feet. The pain convinces me that my balls are going to explode, so I take my time to ensure it does not happen. You never know, I may need my balls for later. It could happen.

Before leaving my apartment for the mind numbing commute to the office I make a quick stop at my fridge to grab a bag of frozen peas. I plan on stuffing it down the front of pants to hopefully limit the amount of times I cry out in pain during the drive.

Traffic is hell; the continuous stop and go of my vehicle causes me mental and physical anguish. After enduring the hellish rat race in pain for 45 minutes I now know why people have guns in their glove boxes. I would never harm another human being but in this situation I think I would have no choice. Maybe if I made a sign that read, "Get the fuck out of my way I almost had my cock torn off last night by a vacuum and it hurts when I hit the brakes," other drivers would take pity on me and comply with my message. Probably not, so I do the next best thing: I open my glove box and grab my backup pair of socks and jam them in my mouth. The socks give me something to bite on as the intense waves of pain send hellish electrical impulses from testicle to testicle. I may look like a freak but hey, a man has to do what a man has to do.

I arrive at my building and hobble to the elevator. Each step is pure hell. The elevator ride to my tomb is different from the previous ones. The difference is that people are actually looking at me. My fellow passengers whisper to each other and I am unable to make out what they are saying. But hey, at least they are making eye contact with me. Maybe it's because I am wearing my reserve bottle of High Kung-Fu cologne. I save it for special occasions. What is so special about this occasion? Well I believe that there is a huge possibility that I may die today from the excruciating pain I am experiencing, and if I am going to die I want to die smelling like a man.

When I arrive at my cubicle I find that someone has left a bag of peanuts on my desk. What a nice gesture. I carefully sit down on my bag of frozen peas and begin to enjoy my newfound treat. It is not often I receive gifts at work. Actually this is the first time I have ever received a gift from anyone at work. Maybe my coworkers aren't a pack of dung-eating fucks after all.

I start the day with my ritual of staring intently at Mary's ass. Praise Mary's ass. The image of her perfectly-formed rump makes me pop wood. The pain of the erection is overpowering. I snap open the bottle of aspirin I brought from home and begin to shovel handfuls of pills into my mouth. I must have the painkillers in my system as fast as possible so I chew them like a wild animal feasting after a bout of starvation. The painkillers will require some time to take effect so I desperately apply pressure to my groin in an attempt to decrease the pain.

It must be the sound of a grown man whimpering that makes Mary look in my direction. If her view is anything like the image I have of myself in my mind, she is assaulted by the pitiful sight of a crying man with a death grip on his cock, foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. Mary throws me the same look she threw me at Wal-Mart before she runs back to her desk. "Fuck," is all I can say. I think I may have blown my chance of nailing Mary today.

I compose myself and turn my chair to face my computer monitor. There is a yellow sticky note attached to it that reads, "These nuts are for you elephant man." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I turn on my monitor and I am devastated at what I see.

My computer is connected to the Internet and open to a web page showing a picture of me with what appears to be a trunk hanging from my cock. Oh shit! It's on the Internet. Those unethical fucks at the hospital did post a picture of me.

I stare at the hideously embarrassing image of my smothered cock and forget to breathe. The sustained lack of oxygen renders me unconscious. My head bounces off of my keyboard as my limp body falls out of my chair and onto the ground. Lying on the floor of my cubicle I look up at the bottom of my desk and pray for death. As usual my request goes unanswered. I'm forced to pick my sorry ass off the floor and face the day. This situation is going to be tough, but I have dealt with worse. I can weather this storm.

To my amazement The Dick walks over to my desk and informs me that due to my temporary disability he will decrease my workload to aid me with my recovery. My response to The Dick is "Good idea, Dick, decreasing my work load will help heal my cock." The Dick gives me a look of wonder before he walks away scratching his ass.

I put in my usual day of superior slacking but this day presents more difficult than the last. For the rest of the day my coworkers continually bombard me with negative and demoralizing comments like, "Hey, elephant dick."

"Nice pubes, Krishna boy."

"Do you need a date, vacuum fucker? I think I know a Dirt Devil that's just your type."

I could go on but I think you get the gist of it. The day finally ends and I hobble to the elevator to make my escape from my temporarily pitiful existence. On the elevator ride down to the parking lot I formulate a plan to get even with these dumbass fuckers. My plan is simple and I am sure it will provide me with some pleasure.

"Sleep well, cum guzzlers, tomorrow is the day of retribution."