�����Funny how I wuss out at nervous times like that. I never show an outward sign. Instead, I say outloud how screwed I am. Think of the whole experience like riding a roller coaster going up for the first dip.

�����"Everyone aboard!"

�����Oh crap, I'm into the store. I pick my jewelery. I buy all the supplies.

�����*rumbling begins*

�����I walk to the back room, where my "support" says just how much that it will hurt. I start to think. "My nipple and I have been together since his birth. He trusts me like a child. Can I really do this to the poor guy?" I can hear his sobbing through my shirt.

�����*Click. Click. Click.*

�����I'm sitting in the chair. Oh crap. My nip looks up at me, and I look at my nip. I'm sorry, man. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He looks up at me with tears in eyes, unable to believe what it's own parent would do.

�����*Click. Click. Cliiiiick. . .*
�����Whooooosh!!!

�����Eeeaia! My "deep exhale" becomes a kind of stiffled staggered sneeze. I'm told my body looks like it's being sucked into itself.

�����And then the ride comes to a stop. I don't look down until I pass the mirror outside of the parlor. Hey, cool; not bad. I look for my little nipple, but he is nowhere to be seen. "I'll miss ya, little guy."
�����The after rush is great, but I'm thinking, "I never want to try this ride again."

�

---Danny