@Cro-Bot I am not kidding at all. This is insane but true. You are the reason I masturbated at a doctor's office and handed it to a hot technician.
I've told most of the story on previous boards, so the shortened version:
You posted a medical article about there being a slightly increased risk of testicular cancer among those who smoke a lot of weed. You captioned it with something about mellow harshing. It was funny. I read it and decided that it would be a good time to check out my balls for tumors, especially since I'd been having some minor but inexplicable ball ache.
I FOUND A LUMP. Very small, but there was def a hard lump on the lateral side of my left one. I immediately started freaking the fuck out. In the next couple of days, I wound up at my HMO's basement-level urgent care after midnight, with a Somali doctor who barely spoke English absolutely fucking crushing my balls, trying to find the lump. The fluorescent lights were flickering. The whole situation was Jacob's Ladder-esque. He eventually felt the lump, or pretended to, and ordered an ultrasound.
At the ultrasound, a technician polished my balls with ultrasound gel in a dark room while I held my dick out of the way. This would have caused an embarrassing boner if I hadn't been so sure that I was about to get a crucial cancer diagnosis. Luckily, it turned out that I didn't have ball cancer, although I do have a faulty vein in my ballsack that was the source of the pain (no surprise -- I have a genetic abnormality that completely fucks my venous valves). So no big deal.
Fast-forward a year or two, when ex-poster Cath and I were first planning to mate for the purposes of procreation. She was kinda tripping about the threat of infertility, so I volunteered to go get my shit checked out. Everything was fine and my dick and balls are not messed up, but this was basically all your fault.
Side note #1: The walls of the masturbatorium were COVERED with this kind of artwork:
Side note #2: After you hand the cum to the hot chick, there is a special hallway that you use to exit the building that allows you to bypass the waiting room, so great is your presumed shame and humiliation.