Some Size

Owen could have at one time or another been deemed a celebrity. The more tactless among us might refer to him as “a bit of a D lister”. He had been getting by hosting things like QVC and snapping up any reality T.V opportunity he could. To be honest he had hit a low point in his career and his emotional well-being was suffering. This manifested itself in a few different ways. Most alarming to him was his sexual performance. He hated the phrase but the fact of the matter was, he couldn’t get it up. Or at least, not naturally. Viagra worked like nobody’s business. Big solid hardons the likes which he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager. The first time he took it, veins had appeared along his length he didn’t know existed. The head could have been used to help planes land. Enough about that though. And so Viagra became a part of his daily ritual. Like popping a hayfever tablet. A wee half on the week days and two full pills on the weekends.

One day he gets a call from his agent. Apparently a contestant for the upcoming Strictly Come Dancing show had pulled out last minute and the stand by for him had taken ill and they couldn’t get a hold of that guy from that thing that nobody watched. They were fuckin desperate. So his agent had told the producers that he knew a guy. Owen didn’t think twice. The fact of the matter was, he loved Strictly Come Dancing. Not only that, he had always danced, ever since drama school. He also knew that this could be his foot back in the door of proper celebrity status. He could get his career back. He told his agent it was a yes he didn’t even care about the salary, just get me on that fuckin show.

And so it was that Owen got his wish. He would be a contestant on Strictly Come Dancing. On top of that, he got the professional dancer that he pure fancied. He didn’t think anything would happen but still. Knowing that this was a great opportunity Owen took the training dead seriously. He practiced at home after training was finished and he’d get a bit of training in before actual training would start. Some would say he over trained. But it began to pay off. He was already getting high scores and compliments from the judges in the early rounds, even that harsh cunt said he had a lot of potential. He worked on his sob story as well, depression and that. The audience lapped it up. And would you believe it, his dance partner was starting to make more than obvious hints that she was into him.

Fuck me, he thought. Wasn’t that long ago I was on T.V at two in the mornin selling frying pans to fuckin dafties sitting at home.

And so Owen made his way through the rounds. Not once did he have to dance to stay in the competition and it was becoming clear that he was the favourite to win. It was the night before finale. He was getting a bit of last minute training in with his partner. At one point she pulled him aside.

I like you she said. If we win, the first chance we get I want to. She made a circle with her thumb and index finger and pushed her other index in and out of the circle. Owen was almost certain he knew what she meant but to be sure he raised one eyebrow questioningly and made a “V” with two fingers, raised them to his mouth and flapped his tongue quickly up and down between the “V”. She nodded.

When he got home he was on cloud nine. Absolutely flying. However, there was one thing, mild panic gripped Owen and his chest tightened. He wasn’t sure he had any Viagra left. He searched about in all the usual places and then in a more manic state, all the unusual places for his wee box of sexual performance pills. Nothing. Shit. He really liked the woman and he wanted to give her the best penis he could muster. Nowhere would be open at this time either. He had an idea. There was one guy he knew. A bit dodgy, sold all sorts but he had at one time offered Owen some Viagra at the same time Owen was getting himself a wee bit of coke. It was late but he had to try, there would be no time in the morning.

After making arrangements with his contact it wasn’t long before Owen was at the guy’s house, exchanging cash for a small rectangular box. It wasn’t until he got back home that he had a proper look at what he’d just bought. The print on the box looked like it was in Russian. Opening it up and taking out the contents revealed several oversized neon blue pills.

Check the fuckin size of these.  He said out loud to himself.

He would have to break them in half to get them down his throat. He trusted his guy though. He’d never let him down in the past and had always provided Owen with quality goods. And so it was he went to bed that night a little more content and slept, dreaming of the finale.

The day of the finale was upon Owen. He wasn’t nervous. He was a natural performer and his confidence had grown throughout the competition. He almost didn’t want to think about winning or losing but at the same time, Owen had a good feeling about the day. He had the ability. He could win. The theme for the finale was ABBA and he along with his partner would be performing to “Dancing Queen”. Before leaving his house that morning for rehearsals he opened up the box of pills and a touch nervously, snapped one in half and gubbed both halves with some water. That got him thinking about his dance partner.

Fuck me she was beautiful.

Not just that. He actually really liked her. They had grown close over the course of the show.

Fuck it.

He cracked another pill in half and downed both halves before heading out the door.

On the drive over to the studios. Owen began to feel a slight buzz. Not unlike the onset of certain drugs he had once indulged in. Paranoid thoughts flitted across his mind.

What an idiot. Putting fuck knows what into your system cuase you’re worried you won’t get a fuckin stiffy. You really are a fuckin dick head, Owen.

He thought about calling up the guy who’d sold them to him but he decided to wait a while. See how he felt. There was still ages before the show went live anyway. And besides the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. The world looked a little brighter, there was a spring in his step. In fact, the longer he left it, the more he had the distinct feeling that absolutely everything he did was completely the best thing to do. He just felt sooo…right.

Waiting back stage it was minutes before he was ready to go on and dance live. Dance for his career. For his life. The effects of the pills had grown steadily over the hours but not in an overwhelming way. He felt unstoppable. Physically and mentally like nothing could stand in his way. And his cock!

Fuckin hell my cock. Thought Owen. It feels like a fucking electric eel down there. I might have to tape it to my stomach.

The golden silk dance trousers were tight and didn’t leave much to the imagination. So that’s exactly what Owen did. He taped his cock to his stomach. It was strange though. Maybe it was the effects of the pills messing with his perception but his once average penis looked like half a baguette. He had to tape round his body several times from his pubes all the way to his solar plexus.

No time to worry about that. I’ve got a fuckin dance to win.

And with that thought he knew he would.

The time between him wrapping his cock up and him standing in front of a studio audience and a T.V audience of 17 million flew by in a blur. He couldn’t feel the floor underneath him. He was absolutely buzzing. In a good way. Dancing Queen started.

Fuckin yeeeessss, here we go!

He actually said that out loud and hoped it was drowned out by the music. Half way through the dance now and everything was flawless, He was even adding little improvised moves, working them in seamlessly. Both he and partner as one. Perfection.


Owen could hardly keep the lid on it.

This is fuckin brilliant man!

Was that too loud? A don’t give a fuck!

At that moment he broke from his partner. This wasn’t part of the routine but she went with it. He turned a double somersault. Owen had never done that in his life!


The audience were on their feet now. This was incredible. A glance at the judges he saw that they all had huge smiles, a couple of them were even clapping along hands in the air.

As he re engaged with his partner something felt a little off. A disembodied strangeness outside his total euphoria. He barely paid it any attention though. How could he when his head was on the fucking moon? But that feeling persisted. It wasn’t long before Owen realised what it was. The tape holding his massive penis in place was giving way. It wasn’t that though, the penis had actually burst through and the head was poking through the low v necked collar of his loose fitting golden silk shirt. It must be two feet long! His partner hadn’t noticed yet. Owen had noticed and at this point in the dance they were chest to chest pirouetting across the stage. Instead of the shock and embarrassment that you’d expect a normal person to feel at that moment. Owen felt elation. His thought process in those moments was something along the lines of.

You all think this dance is something special? Wait till you see my penis!


A couple of times he even tried to get his partners attention. Whenever she made eye contact he would nod down at his pulsating penis, all the while wearing a huge grin. But she was in her own zone, concentrating on the dance.

You’re so fuckin sexy. Owen mouthed the words silently as he gazed into her eyes.

And with that thought he began to get a little turned on. He was barely aware of anything else around him. He didn’t know or care where he was. Only that he was massively attracted to her. Looking down at her, where he expected to see her face, all he saw was his penis. Easily 3 foot long now and fully erect, it had burst through his shirt. His partner backed away from him screaming. He interpreted this as awe and excitement on her part. So he stood there, centre stage with hands on hips, twitching his eyebrows up and down in what he assumed was a thing sexy people do. The music had stopped now. There was a lot commotion going on around him. It seemed that more than one person appreciated his girth as he heard several screams mostly coming from the audience.

I’ve got just the very thing.

And with that thought Owen took a short run up to the front of the stage and did a front flip using his penis to flip himself over instead of his legs. He landed arms outstretched like an Olympic gymnast. On the same moment he landed. He was tackled to the ground by several security guards.

Owen never worked again.

Some size of cock though.







Dave took his coffee over to where he wanted to sit, his favourite seat in the café was free. “Yas!” Making sure to choose a table with two seats and not three or God forbid Four seats. It was bad enough that he had no choice but to take up a table with two seats, 100% more seating than he actually needed but it was the best he could do. People wouldn’t see how considerate he was being though. They would get their own coffee, pay and then look out over the seating area and before long notice Dave.

“Look at that ignorant cunt” they would mutter under their breath to their respective partner. “There’s only one of him and he’s taking up all that fucking space”.

But he really, really liked coffee. Especially drinking it in coffee shops. So he pushed that thought to one side and took the first sip and settled right into his comfy chair. You weren’t supposed to care about what other people thought anyway. Letting strangers control your emotions like that was silly. The café was getting busy though, it was lunch time. Maybe he should have come at an off peak time when there would be less people. Then he would be less likely to take up space. Nah. Stupid. If people taking up more chairs than they needed was actually a problem he would have heard about it by now. The cafe would have signs up. Or they would put out those single chair/table combo things where the table folds down. It’s up to them to make things better not me, he thought. Realising he was a little tense Dave relaxed himself. He took a sip of coffee. Strong!

The coffee shop was dead busy now. He liked it like that. Listening to the all the voices mixed in together making that soft murmuring din. From where he was sitting he could see, on the opposite side, the till area. He watched as one couple, boyfriend and girlfriend he assumed, ordered and payed for their coffee. He watched them approach the sitting area, the guy was holding the tray with their coffees. Dave watched as they both scanned the sitting area. In a panic Dave began looking about the café. All the tables were taken! Not only that. He was the only single person taking up two seats.

“So fuck!” He reasoned to himself.

“They should check before they order the coffee it’s their own fault. Anyway, there’s a family of three over there siting at a table for four. Why don’t they ask them to move? Because, he realised with a sinking feeling, when the couple sit down at the family’s table, they’ll be a two at a table for four. Even worse! Plus, that family has a child. That probably works in the family’s favour when it comes to who’s entitled to what. What if that couple actually come over and ask me to move? Dave wondered. Where will I go? Sit down with the family in the spare seat? Just stand up and drink my coffee? Maybe I’ll go sit in the fucking toilet.”

“Calm down” He told himself. “Getting all worked up over nothing.”

Dave tried to keep one eye on the couple. He felt a bit ridiculous but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s just how I am”. Thought Dave

It wasn’t long before the boyfriend’s eyes locked onto where Dave was sitting.

“No way” Dave thought in amazement.

“Is he actually staring at me?”

Dave glanced up pretending he was only absentmindedly looking about the café.  The couple were talking to each other now and not looking at Dave. The girl looked exasperated. She spoke to the boyfriend while one hand gestured in Dave’s direction.

“Surely not” Dave thought and could feel his adrenaline rising.

Dave took a rather large gulp of his coffee and fixed his gaze in the opposite direction from the couple. His thinking was that if they didn’t know that he had noticed them then they wouldn’t expect him to give up his table.

“Excuse me” a female voice said. To Dave’s ears, a touch of arrogance resonated.

A tap on the shoulder at the same time took Dave by surprised and spiked his adrenaline. He looked up and into the faces of the couple. “This is fucking ridiculous” he thought and nearly said it out loud. He didn’t say anything, however He just continued to stare. The man, Dave considered, had a big dumb face. The woman had a prettiness that was somewhat negated by her apparent attitude.

She continued.

“Hi, sorry but there’s two of us and there’s no seats left could you move please?”

One sentence flew across Dave’s mind “the entire world has lost its mind”

Dave spoke up eventually after an effort to regain his composure.

“Ummm… not really to be honest” His voice was reasonable. People were starting to pay attention to them.

The woman tried to match Dave’s tone with her reply but the irritation that tinged her voice was clear.

“It’s not really right that you’re taking up 2 seats though is it?”

Dave was starting to feel a little threatened at this point. Probably due to the fact that he was still sitting down.

“Look” he said, getting out of his chair and standing up. The couple had to make space for him, they had been that close.

With his hands up at his chest, palms facing towards the couple Dave tried to level with them. He spoke a little louder this time to make sure those around them heard. Even if they were pretending not to listen. He was sure they would be on his side if push came to shove.

“It’s not my fault there are no seats and I was here first. Being honest I think it’s pretty rude to come over and ask me to move”

She spoke up again even more loudly than Dave had and this time barely containing her anger.

“Well you’ve obviously been here for ages already”

She pointed at Dave’s mug which was less than half full looking as if she thought this was her trump card. She folded her arms giving Dave a smug sneer.

“How long I’ve been here doesn’t matter and my stay doesn’t end with the last sip of coffee either.” Dave responded.

Out of nowhere an old lady made her voice heard.

“I think you’re in the right”. She said nodding at the girl.

“He’s been here about half an hour already it’s not like he’s meeting up with a friend or anything. The staff should be keeping an eye on things like that.”

An old lady who sat opposite the one who just spoke nodded along in agreement.

“What the fuck is going on?” thought Dave as he stared incredulously at the old woman.


He was beginning to wonder how long he was going to entertain this madness before he would sit down and completely ignore them all. Maybe until the café closed just to prove a point. Then the boyfriend chimed in.

“Look mate can you not just finish the last of your coffee it’s probably only like one gulp and move on. You’re causing a bit of a scene.”

Dave wondered if the guy actually thought he was right or if he was just scared of this mad bitch who may or may not be his girlfriend and was trying to look tough. He really did have a big dumb face and a slow dumb way of talking. Dave instantly hated him and had had enough at this point. Placing both hands together as if in prayer.

“No”. He said simply.

A quick movement from the girl almost caught Dave off guard. She had tried to commandeer one of the seats at the table. Dave realised what was happening and stepped in front of her.

“Put that down on the table” she said. Motioning to the guy with the tray. He obeyed with just a hint of hesitation.

“Sit down on the chair” she hissed, exasperated at how slow the guy was to register the situation. He sat down.

“There, it’s our table now” she said getting a little too close to Dave’s face. He was still stood in between the girl and the other chair.

“Move” she said.

Dave just stood there looking around at everyone else. Surely someone can see how absurd all this is. But anyone that was paying attention only stared back blankly even expectantly. An internal rage was beginning to take hold of Dave but he remained outwardly composed. The girl now tried shoving herself between Dave and the chair. He blocked her with a forearm, easily, giving her a gentle nudge. The girl stumbled back clearly exaggerating the force of the push.

“How dare you fucking touch me! You all saw that. That’s fucking assault”. Then directed at the boyfriend “Are you just gonna sit there and let him lay a hand on me?”

The boy was already getting out of his chair.

“Look mate I can’t let you do that” he put one hand on Dave’s shoulder.

That was enough. Dave didn’t wait another second before driving the heel of his palm hard and fast, upwardly into the boys chin. Lights out. Anticipating a violent response from the girl he turned bringing the opposite hand in a fist hard across her temple and watched her crumple to the floor. A flicker of movement out the corner of Dave’s eye had his body reacted without so much as a single thought. He spun connecting with a forearm hard on the old lady’s face. The poor thing, Dave realised, was only trying to escape the violence. Yet there she lay, unconscious and wetting herself.

Dave stood, glanced around at the stunned silence which filled the café, took out his phone and called an ambulance.

A hefty fine in the end for Dave but he had the money. That’s how he paid for a good lawyer. PTSD, you see. A 12 week course of anger management as well. Worth it.

It Starts With a Sense of Unease

It starts with a sense of unease, something isn’t quite right; a storm is coming? Perhaps I have shifted briefly into an adjacent universe where the laws of physics are off by a millionth of a degree. A cold sweat emerges as my skin seems to tremble. Is this a panic attack? Legs are jelly now. Racing thoughts of rare diseases. If I pass out make sure it’s in a public place. All is made clear, however, with a gargling that emanates from the depths of my bowels. Of course. How could I ever fool myself into thinking that I would fall victim to something so exotic as some unusual and deadly condition. The ego to assume that I would be patient zero. No, that intestinal rumbling could mean only one thing. It’s a voice. A brown voice that speaks to me. “I am diarrhoea” it says, and for the moment it seems reassuringly distant. A voice that can, however, move with a ferocious speed that would leave Einstein bewildered. They will have to revise those textbooks. “Nothing can exceed the speed of light (except the movement of diarrhoea from the moment of realisation to the moment of danger; danger I need a fucking toilet!). Curse all those wasted hours I did not spend strengthening my anus. The strength needed to both run and clench the bum’s cheeks simultaneously. Perhaps I could develop an incredible forward leap from a standing position using only my toes, as squatting would surely prove fatal. I could build up the stamina to do this all the way home as if on an invisible pogo stick. “I am your diarrhoea and you are going to have me”. It knows, a low bilious rumble represents an event horizon of sorts. Once made aware of diarrhoea you can’t not have it. A cold truth of existence.

My entire being only exists for two things now, holding back a tsunami of shit and getting my arse home. I stop at least 3 times amid the crowds in a strange calm of acceptance that today is the day I shite my pants and that’s OK. Only half wondering how quickly I could tuck the bottom of my jeans into my socks. Shitting myself would be the easy way out. So each time with renewed determination and sweating profusely I put one foot in front of the other. The comfort of home getting both closer and farther away with each step. I feel like a submarine under the pressure of deep waters. As if in protest, long whining farts begin to escape me drawing concerned looks from passers-by. One lady noticing my obvious distress actually starts to approach me, she gets within about 4 feet before she is halted in her tracks as if by an invisible force, her face contorts in a mixture of rage, confusion and disgust, she almost doubles over retching as she is caught in the fart fueled miasma of stench that now surrounds me. A murmured apology from me is met with an accusing look. I don’t need this. I keep moving forward.

At long last I arrive at my front door. I begin to fumble my keys as farts echo loudly in the stair well, I feel like a stinky fog horn. 3 floors down a neighbour is shouting about keeping the bloody noise down. I’m so close. Stumbling through the door I’m on the verge of collapsing. My jeans are already at my ankles as I launch myself backwards arse first at the toilet.

For a mere second that seems to last an infinity, nothing happens. Then, slowly at first but gathering momentum, my guts begin to implode, compressing to a near singularity. There is an almighty pain. The kind of agony that would send most men insane. What follows can only be described as the biggest loudest fart in the whole wide world. It goes on for ages and I can feel the heat from it warming my back. As my cramping bladder expunges the last molecule of smelly air it re inflates, this time blasting water and shit out with incredible force. All the while accompanied by a loud low bellow escaping my lungs.

Bizarrely, through the pain I feel something rub the top of my head. I open my eyes half delirious only to realise it’s the ceiling and that through the sheer propulsive force of the dirty water hosing forth from my frightened anus I am hovering mid-air. In shock I look down to see the toilet bowl near full to the brim and my arse showing no signs of letting up. In a panic and with no time to wonder in amazement at the fact I have become some sort of rancid jet pack, I look to the next receptacle along which is the sink. Using my hands on the ceiling I center my arse hole over the sink. In absolute despair I watch as the sink quickly fills with the pure brown sludge that shows no signs of slowing down. On to the next receptacle, the bath.

After what seemed like hours the shit stream sputtered out like a plane engine and abruptly ceased, sending me plunging towards a bath three quarters full of my own mess. It was totally disgusting. Looking across the bathroom next to the toilet all I can see, like a ragged flag of surrender are the remnants of the final sheet of toilet paper.