"Hey listen," she said, "you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. And don't think I don't empathize with you. I mean, that's a weird deal you got there. But...you know it will be bad for you no matter what. At least if we keep working at it, your experience will help someone else. I mean, if we isolate the parts that took care of your cancer, then you are helping to save lives right now." And that actually made sense. I didn't like it, but it made sense.
"Okay, what do you want to know?" I asked. She started to ask questions. How increased was my s*x drive? How big was my p***s? Did it look like a man's p***s? What effect did my sperm have? And on and on and on and on. I tried to whisper, I didn't want anyone to overhear. Angie was discreet as well. And it felt good to talk, to
