Don’t Be Like Me: that one time when i ended up with a bullet vibe stuck inside of me on high

3 speeds and one pulse function, velvet-touch ABS plastic in a variety of shades, about half an inch diameter and 2 inches in length: these are the qualities offered by the ScreamingO soft-touch bullets. They’d been staring at me from behind the counter of the sex shop where i work; a sex-toy-virgin, their small size and gentle vibrations piqued my interest. One night before closing i hurriedly brought out my wallet and purchased one, stashing it in my bag and promptly hiding it when i got home. I didn’t touch it for two days, too nervous to tell my boyfriend – it seemed like a silly purchase. Since our work schedules were in direct opposition of each other at this time, i took it upon myself to finally give it a go while i was alone. I found that in use, the vibrations are quite dampened – when clicking the buttons to “test” it before buying, they’d seemed a lot more promising. I did find, however, that sort-of sticking it between my labia, with the top of the vibe resting on my clit, elicited a pleasant sensation. Especially when accompanied by some arousing media, i settled into bed quite nicely and just enjoyed the relaxing, gentle vibrations. As a first toy, it was somewhat disappointing – i mean, i expected something grander, especially because i’ve struggled for so long with arousal, stimulation, orgasm, etc. It was nice to have something to at least somewhat help me get a lil stimulation but mostly it was just a nice way to relax.

 

That is, until my boyfriend found it when cleaning up the bedroom, and the next time we had sex, he brought it out.

This sex wasn’t any ol’ sex, though. Led up to by a night of drunken shenanigans, we had plans to go back out and get up to some more mischief but made a quick stop at the apartment first. In what i think was a weird, half-hearted attempt to assert some dominance (something foreign to us in the bedroom, to be honest), the BF brought out the bullet vibe and nested it in me. He then left the room (for a reason i can’t quite remember), and i went to readjust the vibe. However, it wasn’t tucked between my labia as i had thought it was – as i had done to myself previously- he had inserted it (“IT WAS ONLY A LITTLE BIT!” is what he claimed in the panic later on), and my vagina had totally. sucked it. right up. Upon realising this, it was hard not to enter an immediate drunken panic attack – i tried to pull it out and only succeeded in pushing it up further. I screamed.

He ran from the bathroom, freaking out to see what had happened, and i’m sure it was a fucking sight to behold: there i was, an absolutely drunken puddle on the bed, sobbing and panicking, legs spread open, fumbling futilely for the tiny vibe inside of me. He tried to calm me (what a task that was), and then attempted to go for it himself. He said he could see it up there – and believe me when i say this was worse than the worst pelvic exam i’ve endured thus far – and tried to reach it, but only ended up causing me more pain and thus more anguished sobbing. Man, i don’t know that i would have reacted this way if i had been sober, and in hindsight it’s really really funny. But at the time…..nope. Not funny. Neither of us were laughing, not in the slightest.

Oh, and i forgot to mention – it was on the highest setting. Yep. Resting at the top of my vaginal canal, tilted just slightly so that it didn’t quite hit my cervix, this fucking thing was buzzing full speed. If i stopped crying and concentrated, i could feel it inside of me. And then i’d start crying again. I hopped in the shower to try and relax my muscles with the warm water, all the while my BF is beside me encouraging me to “push! Push!” It’s not a fucking baby, i feel i yelled at some point. I remembered times when i’ve had my tampon not-quite situated and a good strong bowel movement would dislocate it. I tried to replicate those situations, terrified that i’d shit on my boyfriend in the process. This was a grade-A nightmare, folks.

After more of the same fruitless attempts to push it out, pull it out, etc, my panicky boyfriend suggested grabbing at it with some tweezers. I shrieked! There was no way! The next best makeshift solution we could come up with……a spoon. He ran to the kitchen. I realized that the only way i’d be getting a spoon up my vag was with some lube. And the only lube we had seriously, seriously burned. As the situation at hand dawned on me, i quit my sobbing and became much more solemn. Here we were, in the midst of a night that was originally quite promising, panicking to get a bullet vibe out of my vagina with a spoon. Good lord. I got serious. I told him to bring some coconut oil. Don’t microwave it, i said. Too late. He brought me back two spoons and hot coconut oil. I made him leave the room, dipped the smaller of the two spoons into the coconut oil, put some fingers inside, and found the vibe. It was tilted, nestled into my tissue just enough that it wasn’t coming out easily. Using one finger to push it straight, I slowly inserted the spoon……and scooped out the vibe.

 

Holy mother of hell, batman

 

What the fuck just happened

 

In the calm after the storm, we kind of lost our shit, laugh-crying hysterically. The next day i made sure to tell my mom all about it; she laughed her ass off while cooking a quesadilla, made me tell her friend, and thank god because that helped me push through the traumatic aftermath.

 

The batteries died from it being inside me on high for so long, and i haven’t been able to bring myself to get replacements. It sits in my drawer untouched.

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