A series of Workshop Shorts

I didn’t want to spam out a bunch of individual stories that were all so short, so I’ve bundled them all into a collection. There’s pottery, woodworking, machining, and car mechanic work. Welcome to a series of workshop wreckage.

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I inherited an old pottery spinning wheel from my grandma. I’d gotten into it when I took a course in high school and kept up with it as a hobby after that. It was a little frustrating though as I wanted to get a good one and until I could I was going to a local shop where they let me use their equipment and then I sold a lot of things through them with them taking a cut or me buying it from them without paying for their time.

As my grandma got older, her dexterity was flagging and she was having a harder and harder time making things herself. I’d spent a lot of time with her as well getting tips and having her help me improve. She had this absolutely ancient machine that her father had built out of a repurposed metal lathe after some war or another had ended, she always kind of got quiet when I tried to ask more about him so I never tried to dig more into the history of the machine. Needless to say, the motor running it was old and could kick like a horse if you treated it wrong.

As she saw her decline, she paid for a shipping service to bring the machine to my place. I got it set up in a bit of spare space I had and was giddy to be able to use it. She had also sent a little firing kiln too, but it was only a few years old so there was no significant story to it. I put a lot of work into it and sent her one of my best pieces so far as a thank you. She still came over sometimes to watch and give little tips here and there. Over time her health declined and those trips became less frequent until she passed away.

She’d left a maintenance guide for the machine and I did my best to follow it. One of them was making sure a little metal band around the edge stayed properly inserted in the groove. I tried gluing it in place, but after a while it popped out again anyways so I just kept popping it back into place.

One day I was using it as usual when I heard a little metallic ping. I thought it was a little odd and backed up to see what it was. I was about to turn off the wheel when I saw the tip of one end of the metal trim starting to unspool from the side of the wheel. I quickly pulled back to avoid getting hit and in doing so I mostly just spread my legs to the side and leaned back. What I didn’t realize was that I’d just pretty much presented my crotch to this machine using a motor able to power through metal being cut. The next pass around, that little band of metal maybe the diameter of a pen ink cartridge from a BIC pen hit just right to thread through both of my balls.

I was quickly yanked with it, as the rest of the trim was apparently stuck to the machine just fine. I managed to hit the little foot pedal to turn it off though and it quickly came to a stop. Tenderly reaching down to see the damage, I started to try to unimpail my balls. As I was doing this, I bumped the table since I thought it was safe and I had other things on my mind. This had two effects, one, I was very close to the edge of the table now with my balls practically touching the groove that the trim was supposed to sit in, I’d been trying to take pressure off of it; two, the wartime 20 horsepower motor that powered this antique apparently shorted and went into the max speed. The table spun until my balls hit the point where the trim was staying stuck in spot, and I had the moment to prepare to get flung with it just to get tossed slightly and feel a flash of pain, heat, and then just something like a bad cut. I was only thrown a couple feet as I’d stumbled, but looking back at the machine I was glad as I watched the free section of trim whipping around.

The table apparently wasn’t balanced to be going that speed as it started to wobble and fall over. The heavy square base then acted as an anchor as I watch the wheel spin against the ground. Only then did I realize what I’d initially missed. The bit of skin and flesh spinning around still attached to it. I watched as the side of the table was used as a grindstone to turn my balls into a messy paste on the floor of my little home workshop.

I think one of the most shocking parts of it, was standing there watching the testicles lose any possibility of existence, and then feeling myself reach orgasm as a result. Finally dropping to my knees from the pain making itself known as a wet patch is squirted into what’s left of my pants.

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I grew up around woodworkers, my dad and most of his extended family were woodworkers, carpenters, loggers, and about a dozen other professions that involve tree products. As a result of this, I’ve practically grown up in a woodworking shop. Even though you see them everywhere, after a while you get used to the safety warnings on every machine. Going through school I was surrounded by the blatantly obvious safety posters, and saw a few instances where someone should have paid more attention to those posters.

After I was out of school, in the workshops I got a job in, there were still safety posters, but these were less in your face. I knew about the ones saying what to do to avoid various accidents, how to handle accidents, and reporting unsafe work conditions. After a while all those warnings become just background noise, like how you stop paying attention to the contents of a picture when you’ve been around it long enough and it’s just a blotch of colour over in *that direction*.

You get used to the safety protocols, they become second nature, you know how to handle each of the machines, and the posters and stickers become pointless for the most part. Maybe once in a while you’ll double check one that provides some instructions for a niche use of a machine.

These posters are there for a reason. The lathe can grab you and pull you in, so can the drill press but it has a bit less oomph to do it with. The drill press can still grab onto a bit of wood and either wreck your fingers or swing a longer piece hard enough to give you a solid sucker punch. A bandsaw can have the blade break and it can become a sharp whip depending on how the machine is set up and designed. Table saws and jointers can grab the wood and chuck a 2x4 like a baseball straight across the shop.

I worked in a big shop, and I knew the owner, so over time as they upgraded a still functioning machine I’d buy the old one off of them. This meant I was able to get some high power industrial grade machines for my home shop. I love the amount of power these things can put out because I can put any kind of wood I want through them and they will just keep on going.

One night I was at home, I was working on a side project I was going to sell to my neighbor for their new kid’s room. I wanted it to be solid so the kid couldn’t hurt the thing so I was using a pretty tough type of hardwood. I was cheating a bit since I knew I’d need to cut eight pieces to size so I figured I’d cut the lengthwise part first before cutting it into four pieces saving me some work. I’d set up a roller stand to catch and stabilize the wood as it got to the other end of the tablesaw so I could push it through just fine.

I made a mistake between the stands I was used to at work and the ones I have at home and I’d accidentally set it slightly too high. As it started feeding into the stand, it was pushing the stand rather than going over the roller. I figured I could just wobble the wood a bit and get it up onto the stand so I wouldn’t need to risk the cut going awry if I turned off the machine and corrected it.

As more of the wood was fed through and I continued trying to push it up onto the stand, I didn’t notice that I’d moved from standing beside the piece of wood to behind it. With the length of wood I was running into it, I’d moved one of the wings to the in-feed side, it’s not something you’re supposed to do, but it made it easier to keep things lined up. I started leaning forwards to get the wood in the right position, but only when it’s too late so I realize that I’ve started leaning on the wing and tipping the machine upwards. This tilted the wing down, and the piece of wood jumped from where it was pressed against the roller stand.

I only worked out the order of events after the fact since it all happened so fast. As the wood had jumped up, the blade caught part of it and shot it back partially. This managed to slip the wood down my pants and position it against the top of my dick. The table shifted again as I stopped leaning on it and the wood came back down before the table finished dropping down. I felt the pressure and instinctively lifted myself up, this meant that the wood that was pressing into my dick is now aiming more between my legs than downwards. As this happens, the wood lands slightly off the original cut giving solid purchase for the saw blade to dig in and fire the piece of hardwood into my wood.

In the moment, I perceived none of this, I just felt the table tip, I lifted myself up for some reason, and then there was a horrific pain coming from my crotch. I fell down, and my muscle memory even had the wherewithal to turn off the lathe. It took me a bit longer to manage to call 911, and I don’t know if the operator knew what I said or just took my pained sobbing to mean I needed an ambulance. After they got me stabilized at the hospital I got word that they’d found what was left of my cock and balls. The cock had some significant abrasions on it and my balls seemed to have been stuck behind the wood as it hit a wall as they were mostly just a splatter against the wall behind my tablesaw.

They were able to reattach most of my cock, but it was no longer able to become erect, and there was essentially no nerve function anymore. But I could at least still pee while standing up.

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Machinists always think they’re the best of the workshop monkeys. They love to brag about their precision and accuracy. They also work with some of the most terrifyingly powerful machines that you’ll see in most workshops, it’s a requirement for when you’re turning a block of solid metal into a good mound of decorative chips. With all that power comes a similar amount of warnings to pay attention.

Those same machinists love to brag about how hard working they are. They love to talk about how they pulled a 21 hours shift yesterday getting their CNC programming dialed in perfectly for a job they’re doing. And as a result of this massive workload they are always walking about grasping onto a cup or mug of coffee for dear life.

Sleep deprivation and heavy machinery don’t mix well. Add in high speeds to that mix and it becomes catastrophic. One morning I watched the machinist coming in looking like he hasn’t slept since the weekend. He’s bleary and holding a cup of coffee looking like a home depot bucket. I know he’s out of it, he knows he’s out of it, but he still figured he should show up to work. I ask him if he’s up for it and he says he is, he’s not doing anything complex that day.

He gets out some work that needed to be cleaned up after a CNC operation yesterday and brings it all over to the lathe. I watch for a while and make sure he’s okay and then move on with my work. I check on him a few times through the morning and he seems to be up and down with the coffee and I’m not sure if it’s helping.

Finally what I was worried would happen, happened. I hear a loud clatter, a thump, and a shriek and I quickly make my way over to him. What I find is the large chuck key sitting between his legs, and he’s up against the wall.

When I get closer, I realize my mistake, the chuck key is not sitting between his legs, it’s through his pants and I see a bit of blood. One of the handles has passed through his pants and seems to have pinned him to the drywall. I go over and try to move the key and he cries out. I call the ambulance and start cutting away his pants to figure out just how bad it is.

I was taking my time to avoid hurting him more, so I’m just getting his underwear pulled away when the paramedics come in and we all get to see the machinist’s new 2cm diameter prince Albert piercing and the Jackson Pollock that’s left of his nuts. Looking at the scene, it seems that the handle had gone straight through his dick and badly ruptured one nut, then the other nut got hit by the 5-6cm diameter key shaft itself and was turned into a paste that burst out of the sack from the pressure and painted the inside of his underwear.

The paramedics are wary of trying to remove the key, so we cut out the section of drywall and they bring it with them.

When the machinist came back a good while later after recovering, he still had a surprising amount of function for his dick by some miracle, but both balls were a lost cause. He’s been a fantastic worker since though, he makes sure to get enough sleep rather than trying to cut a day off his delivery time on projects, and he is following safety procedures far closer now.

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I was working with my son on his “new” hotrod project. He’d bought some utter wreck imagining that he’ll be able to fix it up into something to brag about. He’s helped me a bit while working on cars, but he’s far too self confident from a few hours of wrenching and too many hours of dreaming while watching mechanics online.

I figured it could be an alright project, he’s old enough and he’s paying for it all himself, so something goes wrong, all I’m out is some time. We’re over at his house where he’s turned his garage into a shiny little workshop, but I can see from the brand names all over the place that I’ll probably want to bring some of my own tools next time I come over to help.

We’ve got the thing up on some chintzy jackstands, but it’s a couple of lumps of metal locking together so it should be fine. I’m looking at the brakes to see if they can be salvaged and cleaning them up if they can. He’s taken out the suspension and is working on replacing the frighteningly rusted springs with new ones.

I turn to look at how he’s doing and scoot myself a bit to get a good view. He’s currently trying to pry the nut off the top while the spring is still in tension. I warn him to hold the spring in place properly with some tools because it can be violent when it finally comes free. He stops and says he’s got something for that around there somewhere.

I hear him grunting away again and turn and shuffle to try and see what the hell he’s up to as I see he’s got the thing braced on the ground and holding the spring with his legs. I’m about to warn him when I heard the ping and a thud of the retention nut shooting off into the ceiling, and then I hear my son screaming in a pitch I don’t think I’ve heard from him in over twenty year when he was barely in elementary school.

I watch as he stumbles back facing away from me, and bumps into the car. I hear a clunking sound which turned out to be the chintzy jackstand proving just how shitty they can be made as the lock shears off. There are a series of pros and cons in what lead up to this, although really it’s one pro and a lot of cons. I was sitting, somewhat awkwardly, with my legs spread out in front of me as I was working on the car, I was working on the front driver side brake at the time, my son was working on the suspension from the front passenger side while the suspension was still in place where I was working, the engine was still in the car, and the one upside, we’d pulled off the front side panels because they were rusted to shit and we were curious if it could be salvaged.

Pros and cons. Pro, there was no body panel to hit my legs, the odd design of the frame also meant that my legs were saved. Con, I was working on the side where there were still springs, there was a lot of weight being held up, my position and the shuffling to see what my son was doing had positioned my spread legs just right.

As the car drops, it tilts towards me, I try to respond but not fast enough. The drake disc lands with all the functionality of a guillotine on my cock and balls before the rusty mounting snaps off and the tie rod lands on top of my recently detached manhood.

Somehow, of the two of us, I’m the one able to call for paramedics first as my son whimpers in the pitch of a teenage girl while cupping his crotch. As much pain as I’m in, I manage to get a jack under the car and lift it up to see if my manhood can be saved, but I was presented with what looked like a giant version of when you kill a well fed mosquito.

The paramedics arrive and are in somewhat shocked awe at just how wrong things have gone. As destroyed at it looks I still packaged up my package to bring with us.

At the hospital I’m told there’s nothing that can really be done and they do their best to clean me up and give some function back for going to the washroom.

My son was somewhat luckier but still traumatized, the rusty edge of the spring caught his ball bag and cut it open along with cutting off the connections to the balls inside the bag. Somewhere in there it also pretty severely battered his nuts too and they said they wouldn’t be able to reattach them and ensure function. His dick was apparently basically untouched in all of that though. But I did overhear one of the nurses playing a video of someone describing a similar incident as ‘blew balls’ as one blew this way and one blew that way.

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Some people have asked where I've gotten the ideas for my other stories, this one I guess I can add here.

The pottery one was from my own experience but not traumatic, I had a loose bit of metal trim manage to stab through and through my pants, and I've seen some sketchy bodged together machines.

Woodworking was kind of secondhand experience. I was working in the woodworking shop in school and someone fucked up in a similar way with the tablesaw and caught a piece of wood to the gut, they ended up bruised and had the wind knocked out of them but otherwise fine.

Metalworking was another personal experience, I was tired and working on the lathe, I'd been shifting the piece around a few times as I worked on it, one of those times I left the chuck key in the chuck as I started it up and it was shot between my legs and left a chip in both the concrete floor and cinderblock wall behind me.

The car one is based on the 'blewball' meme and a collection of failures I've seen videos of. I've not see any guillotined packages, but I could see the right situation ending up with some fairly severe damage.