Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: i am an old hand at masturbation. like a grizzled and salty sea dog that has seen too many years on the bow of a battered tug boat, i think i’ve seen it all through a haze of white pipe smoke. **nods sagely**. only a few haggard superstitions from lands still inhabited by dragons remain. i’m no longer the masturbateur of my teens or even my twenties. i have learnt and grown along this epic voyage into the masturbator i am today. and just like any long voyage, games pass the time. except instead of “i spy” i have become exceedingly good at the game of things not to put your penis into.

actually there are surprisingly few rules for this game. they say to someone with a hammer, everything is a nail, and i’ve nailed most things, even the things that are nailed down. a walkman? sure, put some blu tac around the gears and wear a condom and let it glide under the head. various fruits, bottles, back massagers? pfft child’s play. these weren’t the new-fangled internet days of a million voices coming together as one to solve the problem of spicing up masturbation, they were the cold dark, medieval learn by trial and error of the before times. like alchemists we tested our creations on ourselves, alone and hobbled by our experiments, like spartan children we were forced to rail against the wild and become victorious.

what i’m trying to say is, i have this shit on lock down. i’m at the stage of life when i should be collecting my notes in a studious leather bound tome to pass onto my children and my children’s children (please no) to guide them forward should the combined maturbatory intelligence of the internet be lacking, what with your electric toothbrushes, vibrating phones and nicky minaj ass cheeks these days dumbing all our masturbatory intelligence down. what will you bunch of pillow fuckers do if you’re stranded on a desert island i’ll cry, shaking my fists at the sky - what will you do then? no bear grylls seaweed fuck sleeves for you gen y wankers… no macgyver rubber band and a piece of string lady parts for you.

anyway. as they say, pride cometh before the fall.
as most of these stories start, i was alone. i was painting our new house before we moved in and sold our old one. i was on a deadline. i’d spend hours after work doing the monotonous job of piling more and more paint on top of other slightly less strongly coloured paint. i was stressed and so hadn’t really gotten around to relieving things for a while. days probably. anyways i quickly realised the unparalleled freedom i was painting away with. after having new babies not only is sex a fairly distant memory for a lot of people, but even jerking off is only snuck in in fits and starts. everyone’s asleep? jerk off. if i’ve actually had enough sleep and am horny in the morning shower? jerk off. but not the luxurious no headphones jizzing.. (or conversely, headphones with no fear of dampening approaching sounds jizzing) not the edging for hours just because you’re bored and you can.. not the jesus masturbating christ i hope i don’t have a heart attack while wearing my wife’s clothes with a hairbrush handle up my ass while looking at a photoshopped picture of her sister’s head on sasha grey’s body on the laptop kind of jerking off. y’know.. the good stuff.

suddenly all of the work objects in my house go through the things not to put my penis in game. the drill? can i put a paint roller over a thick bit and get it spinning endlessly against the head of my cock? hrm.. keep that one for later.. i don’t have a condom or anything to put over it and make it smooth.. the gatorade bottle?? bah.. i’d have to fill it with plastic wrappers and oil to get sensation inside… everything around me is the kind of thing that takes off thumbs in shop class… and i have no lube and no plastic wrap.. why lord, why have you forsaken me so? wiillsooon! ok fine, let’s try this. i have rubber washing up gloves and i have soap. i’ve used gloves before.. those clear plastic doctor’s ones.. soap has been bff’s with my cock since before i remember.. it’s so simple this just might work! i don’t really have anywhere to jam it into though.. it’s a completely empty house. normally the easiest thing to make is to unroll and wipe the lube off the outside of a condom and put a lot of lube inside it, then place it in a towel with the base edge poking out and roll up the towel around the length of it and stretch the base ring of rubber around the outside end of the rolled up towel forming a tight sleeve. you then wedge this sleeve in between mattresses, couch cushions, whatever and pretend it’s the doggystyle olympics and that girl you never fucked in highschool is your reluctant fellow country representative. it’s my lightbulb, my edison’s sleeve of trial and error to get things just right, my life’s great work. you probably found it on the internet when you were 13 and paid no mind to the fallen heroes that brought it to you.

here though i only have washing up gloves and soap. i don’t really know why i thought this would be so innocuous. maybe it’s because it’s been well over a decade since i’ve made any kind of real mistake - i’ve been shooting nothing but net for so long i feel invincible. i’m over-confident and i don’t have plot armour.

i put a little water inside the glove and stick a bar of soap in and really give it a rub about inside the glove to froth things up and i’m ready to go. i get things going the normal way. savouring my glove vagina like some reserve whore unit in a horrible war against the forces of onan. once i am nice and erect i slip it in. yes, yes my precious! i am differenting! my penis has a new happy place! strike this down as another win in the win column of life. 
now do not think i am unaware of soap’s drying effect. i’m not 13 and struggling to remain lubed outside of the bathroom like it’s the first time i’ve tried it. i don’t expect it to be a magical panacea that cures all lack of lubrication, it’s just as long as there is plenty of water in the glove there should remain some slipperiness and frankly i must again state, the house is empty. there are no oils, butters, margarines, hair conditioners. there isn’t even anything i can boil to extract fats from. there is only soap.

**plateau**

only.. my wife calls. shit. fine. stop. phone talk. yeah yeah, working real hard here honey.. better get back to it, jolly good, tally ho, tea and crumpets. ok now i kinda have to get started again.. only.. there is a sensation starting out this time that i was a little blind to before… it’s not dry.. there is plenty of water in there and it’s still soapy.. but there is a little pain.. i’ve obviously gone on too long and this set back has prolonged this whole endeavour even further.. i’d better get back to it quick smart and finish this thing off.

now i’m not sure if you’re aware, but being near orgasm is one of the strongest natural pain relievers there is. it’s why using a headache as an excuse to get out of sex is a cuntwhore cutpurse raggard vagabond’s way out. so i’m definitely sensing there is wrongness in the universe, but it’s also pleasant. i guess this is why people mix pleasure and pain, and whips and electrodes are sometimes used in the bedroom.. it’s like a bad itch that i’m scratching.. and like every time your penis goes into a vagina it’s not supposed to, i’m just not thinking straight. i’m completely focussed on the end goal. i’m riding my unicorn down a fluffy rainbow. its happening.

it can’t come soon enough as at least one part of my reptilian brain knows that this whole enterprise needs to stop forthwith. it’s not as if it would be the first time i’ve given myself a friction blister on the side of my wang or something. salty sea dog, master masturbator and all that.

**resolution**

like all sexual mistakes they appear resonant and with almost immediate regret. the constant of regret is 28mph, the speed at which ejaculate travels, and much like the speed of light invites immediate speculation about the possibility of time travel backwards to undo mistakes of the immediately recent past.

so as the endorphins leak out of various membranes it’s escalatingly apparent i’ve done damage. i’ve managed to mask the true enormity of the situation. it hurts. fuck. no really, this is bad. i'm every fallen soldier in a movie with that look in his eyes after he's been disembowelled or had all the skin of his lower body melted off. that pleading look into his buddy's eyes that everything is going to be ok because he can't see the wound. i'm my baby girl who thinks she's invisible when she puts her hands over her eyes and i ask where she's gone. it's schroedinger's cock, it could still be ok right, right?. i waddle into the bathroom where the light is on and risk a sideways glance down to let the waveform collapse.

blood. why is there blood.

on. the. head.

my favoritest bit.

it’s bright red and fresh. it looks like every gravel rash i had as a kid when i came off my bike only on the head of my penis - it’s some horrible viking death ritual for when the blood eagle is considered soft on crime. what horrible treachery is this? how could my body work against me like this? isn’t there an emergency parachute? some kind of do not want alarm? no darwinian impulse to save the baby making parts? then i realise if you’re about to come it doesn’t matter whether your cock is mangled and bloody - you finish jizzing now and pass your genes on, then you can bleed out from your cock like a golf course sprinkler system because your job is done. the praying mantis she-bitch can bite your head off, you can die stingerless on the ground. there is no great poetry left in you. you have fulfilled your one true purpose and it wasn’t writing that book you always thought you had in you.

things to do with a bleeding glans

* fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
* think of all the good times we’ve had and salute a fallen soldier
* fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
* wash some blood off and survey damage?

i pinch the base of the head to restrict or distract nerve signals. i rinse it in the sink and howl. oh the humanity! oh mistakes i have made. why does it hates us? washing up gloves aren't like surgical gloves at all. they have fine texture on the inside like polishing sandpaper and the soap made the rubber gloves the opposite of slippery. the rubber texture became very very grabby with the soap stripping any natural oils off my cock leaving it super frictionated and proceeded to slough many, many layers of super-delicate skin off while i whacked off like a loon, like some penis shaving savant creating his bloody masterpiece.

i have nothing. no first aid kit, nothing. it’s an empty house. i do however have a foreskin. oh thank you baby jesus.. soft soothing foreskin… how glad i am right now to have a turtle neck. sweet holy steve job's taint how i love you right now. but like pulling a jumper over a bullet wound, the foreskins they do nothing! it hurts like fuck just trying to pull it back over.. and yes even though it’s undoubtedly better than rubbing against fabric, there are sharp, sharp spiking bolts of pain from the raw exposed nerves whenever there is a bump that magically travels through the foreskin which each movement seems to cause. it’s like putting a pillow over someone’s head to dampen a .38 - it’s mostly so you don’t have to witness what you’ve done.

the only thing i have at hand is painkillers. good stuff too. 12.8mg of codeine and 200mg of ibuprofen. they’re like tylenol 3’s. i used to get migraines as a kid so i don’t fuck around when it comes to pain. i don’t tough it out and man up.. i just take pills, the stronger the better and get on with life. anyways. i have a vague plan. take several pills and maybe by the time i take a shower they’ll have kicked in and i can survey the damage again.

at this point my painting is at an end. i’m calling it a night. fuck this. i’m not schlepping my bloody stump around the skirting boards of the house. i’m going home and hoping by the time i have a shower i’d move into the next phase of putting a lot of life and distance over this mishap. the knowledge that in a few weeks things that seem bad now will be better has gotten me through a lot in life. there is a road to recovery, a path i can take that will lead me through this. i don't have to run back and forth squealing incredulously. it mostly involves not playing any kind of penis games for a while, but we coo’ right?

**the worsening**

so i’m on my way home ruing my existence. my penis is crying red tears of blood. i’m having my moon time. my penses. and like a bolt out of the dark it hits me. my baby is teething. teeth ripping through gums hurts. when it hurts we put on bonjela baby teething gel. it’s like an anise flavoured local anaesthetic. in the 1890’s they probably just rubbed cocaine on their gums but frankly that’s just too expensive for us and likely to keep her up and crying for longer so bonjela it is. i fixate on this miracle cure to my ills. i have a local anasthetic meant for mucus membranes. hah! having a baby was totally worth it just for this moment. all the actions of my life have lead to this final fortuitous crescendo. i high five the universe and drive on! fuck i’m rad. all i have to do is ensure i have access to this stuff without the wife being suspicious. i formulate a plan. i map out our house. i’ve played enough hitman, i know how to get in and out without being seen. i’ll grab some sudocream too, we put that on the baby’s ass to prevent nappy rash. i have penile glove rash.. perfect. i’m starting to pile up the wins like so many unhatched eggs.

i get home and sneak the items i need into the bathroom. i’m still getting shocks of pain from the nerves and although the painkillers have kicked in, to say i’m approaching peeling back my foreskin under running water with some trepidation is a massive understatement.
i pinch below the base of the head again to help with the nerves, providing another sensation or however it works. i pull back. yep, still bad. i'm not sleeping this one off, fuck, i'm lucky if i’m going to be sleeping at all. i just have to make it through the next few days… i just have to make it so i can sleep tonight.. with the water running i squeeze a liberal blob of bonjela out. sweet mercy here you come.

holy skullfucking batman the blood is on fire. my penis is burning with the intensity of a thousand suns filled with meth crazed fire ants. who could have foreseen this? why is an anaesthetic not anaesthetizing? am i in opposite land? soap isn’t slippery anymore.. anaesthesia rounds all your nerve endings up and takes a molotov filled cheese grater to the ends? what. the. fuck.
abort mission.

i no longer fear the running water.. the pain level of merely gravel rashed bleeding penis head is a welcome relief as the bonjela washes off. aaaahhhhhhhhh.. sweet, sweet relief of merely flayed glans under running water, where have you been for the last 60 seconds. 
why the fuck didn't that work? why did it do the opposite of numbing like it was fucking ramsay bolton's flayed man tincture of olde time cock healing.

not at all put off by topical creams i grab a fingerload of sudocream and cake it on.. finally something that isn’t making my situation actively worse. it seems to at least be neutral in this war. it may launder my gold fillings but darnit, it’s not michael j fox holding a burning cheese grater against my cock. i think that holds up as a good guy in any court of law.

i am medicated and covered in a thick coating of sudocream. the bleeding seems to have stopped or has dialed down to just leaking plasma. i should be able to sleep tonight and begin my long road to recovery. i finish my shower and calculate the odds my wife will want sexy times any time soon. i smile in contentment for the first time in an hour, for i am in opposite land, the fact we have a new baby and i’m not going to get laid before my cock heals is a silver lining this scary, shitty godforsaken place and i’ll take it and hold it close like a r/deadbedrooms safety blanket.

** 

this is a weekend repost after it was baleeted for tarnishing people's weekdays with black dread when only work should have performed that function.

**update** holy fuck front page and gold! my thank you's are not obligatory, they are for realsies. i am at once saddened that the most popular thing i'll ever do is about a dumb thing i did to my cock on a throwaway account but also happy i managed to spin something good out of the situation and make a few people with hardy attention spans giggle and spread a bit of goodness in the universe (by touching each and every one of you with my bloody cock). you are a funny bunch of fuckers. i hypoventilated laughing at the replies. somehow they're even funnier than normal when they're directed at you and your misfortune. so the salty tug boat captain thanks his two dubloon benefactors and everyone else for putting some spring in my onetime haggard gait.

because people are asking, predictably the blunt force trauma of having a baby carve a ruinous hellscape through her vagina made my wife allergic to peen for some time. because of that she discovered nothing and has no inkling of my plight. it took about two weeks and much sudocream to heal. i did however tell my brother the very next morning to his great roflfucking schadenfraude as it is a war story that needed sharing.

no, i am not a writer, thanks to anyone who asked though, as that's a very kind inference. i don't have a blog, i don't have a twitter. i barely rise to making myself post sarcastic comments on my friends fb updates. i haven't written a story since highschool english. i doubt i'll do much writing in the future as i've kind of spent my load here and that was only done because i was procrastinating. i'm pretty sure nothing else i do will ever live up to a story about flaying my cock so i'm not exactly encouraged to try and then fail to clear that hurdle for the rest of my life only to be slapped in the face each and every time with a bloody member. additionally, i'm going to be doing my very best not to create the material for another story like this again.. thank you to the couple of kind souls who compared it to chuck palahniuk, that gave me an involuntary brain boner. i have lullaby and survivor but i'll have to check out guts.
yeah it could have been edited and snappier, but it's a story about something that happened to my dick, not a meditation on the human condition shortlisted for the man booker prize. it was treated with all the time and care a silly true story on the internet about wanking deserved, which is to say, not much. so no i didn't run it past an editor, but i did make sure i enjoyed writing it instead of doing real work, which means yeah it was a bit stream of consciousness, and done to ensure i had no time left at the end to get around to doing the thing i was supposed to be doing. that run on sentence was done just for you guys.

also i'm assuming about 7 people not old enough to have a credit card and safely get a fleshlight delivered without their parents finding the package have used my condom in a wrapped towel trick. i salute you comrades, plow forth with a mighty vigour.

TIFU by making an improvised vagina like I'm the Bear Grylls of cock sleeves.