Thoughts on Packing

“You don’t pack, do you?” My mother asks this question as we sit in slightly awkward silence after watching Boys Don’t Cry together; a query procured by the opening scene of Brandon adjusting the sock in his underwear. I am fourteen.

“No,” I answer with an obvious air; I cannot imagine the desire for such an activity, nor any situation in which the need would arise.

Two weeks after beginning testosterone, the need arose.

Aware of my small stature, I was cautious about size while constructing my own hand-made sock packer. As I had been too shy of yet to purchase my own underwear, I was disappointed to find that the one pair of male underwear in my possession was too loose to prevent it from falling sideways, or worse, in the middle of the sidewalk. Shortly after this, I began wearing pants that actually fit instead of pants that hid my figure — a full two sizes smaller, as I discovered. I was surprised to find that while they accentuated my new appendage, I was not at all self-conscious — in fact, I felt supremely empowered, and fantasies began to manifest in my mind that people were looking, or that they might care. The initial rush of masculinity and power dissipated after several weeks, and though on occasion I still find myself having the idea that a girl is looking at my dick, all in all it has become exceedingly normal to the extent that I feel as though I am missing a part when it is not in place.

Although it took nearly three years after the initial desire to commence the purchase of a binder, the idea of a genuine “packer” or “stuffer” has been a vague thought for only the past year or so. After extensive searching, it appeared that there exist only a few packers of quality while also being sensibly functional; having narrowed it down to two of, as it would seem, the most popular ones, and having recently received my tax returns in the mail, I decided that the necessity for realism did in fact exist.

My first choice was, perhaps predictably due to its popularity, the durable and impressive Mr. Right of Vixen Creations. (If you don’t want to see a dick pic, don’t click.) My foremost concern was sanitation; as, after all, this thing would be living in my pants. Mr. Right is made of non-porous silicone, being the safer and nearly universally agreed best material for sex toys, particularly because it can be boiled to the result of sterilization, or else placed in a dishwasher — to which, one might hope, is not accessible by your roommate or your mother. Certainly this is an advantage.

My second choice, and at the end being my purchase, was the equally known Packy of Early to Bed. While Mr. Right, in its quest for realism, has asymmetrical testicles, the Packy is nicely symmetrical, which pleases my OCD tendencies. It seems that many men may in fact wish to be symmetrical given the choice ; therefore, I feel that I have a distinct advantage in this regard. Mr. Right also seems to be rather ill-designed in regards to size; it would seem that its overall mold is somewhat impractical, as it would tend to hang in a way that procures a sightly bulge evident of an eternal, never-ceasing erection; while the Packy has the advantage of not looking like a porn star. Although the Packy is constructed of Cyberskin-like material, which is soft, porous, difficult to clean and tends to disintegrate in a method reminiscent of a bar of soap gradually losing its mass, it costs a pleasing $12 while Mr. Right is an intimidating $50.

I admit my first reaction upon receiving my mail-order dick was not altogether pleased — at radiant pink, the colour is striking; but truly, it occurred to me several moments later, any situation that would arise in which another individual had visual access to my dick would, hopefully, be one in which the relevant party was already aware of the situation; and having been willing to engage to a level of intimacy as to see it, would probably not consider the colour a hindrance at such a point in time. It is a reasonable size and, dare I say, pleasing to the touch, particularly as it absorbs body heat in a surprising amount of time.

Having also purchased a simplistic harness, it is in this method that I wear it for the first time. It juts out from my body horizontally and quivers as I move; a proud, radiant, 4½-inch presentation. Several moments after I decide to try it out in underwear, I am met with a distinctly masculine experience as, somewhat flustered, I attempt to squash it into an apparent flaccid state. After some observation I realize that the testicles are far too high, and lowering it several inches creates a perfectly angled presentation. As I pull on jeans, I am struck with how different it feels from the hard, oddly-shaped, ball-less sock: it is warm and soft against my body, and to my amusement I am instantaneously aroused as I feel its weight and mass while I walk. The egotistical empowerment of my first packing experience returns in a rush, and I spend a full day at home going about my activities with it extending proudly. I can’t keep my hands off it. I feel masculine, tightly wound and sexually charged.

I am obsessed.

By the second day, I am used to how it feels, and am no longer surprised to see it attached to me. It is almost surreal how normal its weight and shape becomes in my mind. It does tend to be pushed upwards and bunch into a ball when walking up stairs, running or walking for much time; though this would be easily remedied by an additional length of elastic sewn into the harness. For $12, overall I am very satisfied.

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Surgery is in three weeks and three days; in three weeks exactly, we depart. The final installments of payment have been sent to Dr. Brownstein, leaving nothing remaining to do save for preparation. The total cost of the surgery so far:

Dr. Brownstein’s surgical fee: $5,250.00
Pathology fee: $200.00
Anesthesia cost: $900.00
Hospital stay during and following surgery: $1,800.00
2-way train tickets, sleeper cars: $1,082.00
Estimated hotel cost: $1,100.00

Total so far: $10,341.00

Three weeks!

~ by geekbynature on May 30, 2009.