When I was a college student, I experienced an unusual, one could even say absurdly tragicomic event. It all happened one lethargic afternoon in the student dormitory where I lived. As I lay flat on my stomach on my bed, recovering from the previous night's party, a girl—who had also attended the party—sat on my lower back and began to massage my upper back. During the massage, I bent my legs at the knees and playfully patted her back with the soles of my bare feet, as if I were massaging her in return. She chuckled, finding it amusing. It was a comfortable, easygoing moment.

However, while I was patting her, I felt her necklace with my toes. She had turned the necklace on her back while massaging me so that it wouldn't bother her. The necklace had a small medallion that I inadvertently tangled between my third and fourth toes, along with a few strands of her long hair, which was tied in a ponytail. A mischievous impulse took hold. I held onto it, not wanting to let go. She turned around, still seated on my lower back, now in the opposite direction, my sole in front of her face. She grasped my foot with one hand while using the other to try and untangle the chain and medallion from my toes. I laughed at her futile attempts, playfully refusing to loosen my grip, despite her pleas to let go of the chain to prevent it from breaking and to stop pulling her hair.

Her pleas only fueled my amusement. Quite simply, I enjoyed the fun and tortured her with pleasure.

To put it mildly, she was a girl for one night. A former cheerleader and once a pole dancer in a strip club, she was a very cunning and skilled girl, and was one of those who drifted through college parties. I didn't particularly appreciate her, but she was... available, and sometimes that was enough. I brought her into the room, taking advantage of the fact that my girlfriend had been away for some time. She was of medium height, slim, and well-built. Her face wasn't what you'd call pretty, save for one truly remarkable feature: her teeth. Her teeth were flawless. She had a beautiful, impressive set of exceptionally large and strong teeth. When she spread her lips in a smile, they looked like perfectly strung pearls.

My playful game came to an abrupt halt when I felt her long, sharp nails begin to scratch, not gently, but with a deliberate, unpleasant drag across the toes which were holding the chain, then along my sole. My amusement vanished, replaced by a sudden jolt of apprehension, a cold prickle of fear. This wasn't playful anymore. Afraid that she would scratch my foot and toes, I immediately loosened my grip, allowing her to free the chain. I took great care of my feet, with an almost obsessive attention, and was proud of their appearance, especially toes. I was practically at the beginning of my career as a sandal model. My big toe was a special and a striking feature on my feet: very large, nicely shaped, significantly longer than the second toe and exceptionally dominant, and art directors and photographers liked it. I had appeared in magazines and commercials for men's sandals, mainly toe-loop sandals, flip-flops and various other attractive sandals on several occasions.

But the game, I realized with a sudden chill, wasn't over. Not for her.

The moment the chain was free, swiftly, unexpectedly, she seized my foot with both hands. Her grip was surprisingly strong. Then came the shock! Before I could even register what was happening, before my brain could process the intent, before I could even think of pulling my foot away, she bit down on my big toe!

A crushing pain exploded through my big toe. The pain was instantaneous and excruciating, unlike anything I had ever felt. It was as if a vise had clamped down my big toe and then crushed. A raw, involuntary scream tore from my throat, ripping through the quiet afternoon. I screamed at the top of my lungs, the pain so intense I felt my eyeballs bulge, threatening to pop out of their sockets. I nearly fainted.

In the ensuing chaos, the bookshelf beside my bed, an old, rickety thing overloaded with textbooks, somehow dislodged from its precarious perch and struck her. The sudden impact caused her to release my toe, and I was finally able to yank my foot free. All of this happened within a maximum of 10 seconds.

I ended up in the hospital. Doctors, their faces grim, explained the extent of the damage. The bite, they said, had been so strong, that she almost bit my big toe off! The big toe bone was crushed, pulverized just below the upper joint—a little more than half of the big toe.The upper part of the big toe looked almost separated. The doctor told me, that I was crazy lucky, becose that the bookshelf saved me at the last moment, otherwise that girl would have definitely bitten off my big toe. By the way, when I arrived at the hospital until I told them what happened to me, the doctors thought I was bitten by a dog.

I lay there in profound shock, terror seizing me at the realization that whore had almost bitten my big toe clean off. I was scared and desperate. The doctors were miraculous. They performed some intricate, delicate procedure to save my toe. “You were lucky,” the nurse had said later, her voice grave, checking my IV. “That big toe was nearly bitten off. Could have lost it for good.”

The recovery was an agonizingly long ordeal. Weeks stretched into months, filled with physical therapy, throbbing pain, and the frustrating helplessness of limited mobility. Even now, many years later, my big toe sometimes still hurts and often goes numb. Despite efforts to remove it, an ugly scar remains to this day. Because I have a very large and strikingly prominent big toe, significantly longer than the second toe, scar is even more clearly and unmistakably visible.

That single, savage act ruined my fledgling career as a model for sandals. It was a valuable source of pocket money during my college years, a small but steady income that had once allowed me a measure of independence.

I’ve replayed that event in my head a thousand times, sifting through every detail, every word, every look. How could a playful game turn into such a visceral act of aggression? I'm still in shock and disbelief that that girl had such strong teeth. I still wonder, is it normal for a girl to have such strong teeth and a bite!? I wish I had an explanation, because I'm simply shocked that a female can have such a strong bite. I am most disappointed in myself as a man, because I didn't even try to free my foot, I just screamed, and I let a girl who is a head shorter than me defeat me. I didn't do anything to defend myself, only an incredible lucky circumstance saved me.

I wanted her to get a prison sentence. The police were involved, the hospital reports stark and undeniable, the gruesome photographs of my mangled toe laid bare. But her version of the story, where she conveniently omitted to say that I had released her chain before the bite, was, somehow, more believable in the eyes of the law. She painted herself as the victim, reacting defensively to my "assault" with my foot. Her portrayal of herself as a victim of violence was at the highest level. During the trial, at one point, when she glanced at me, she discreetly stretched her lips into a smile. I interpreted to mean she had no remorse at all for her action. The legal system found her not responsible for the wrongdoing she did. The judge was a woman and I believe that there was also female solidarity. She managed to get out of everything without any consequences.

Also, it was hard for me that s got a lot of support from the girls, and many of them were delighted by her act and I was their object of ridicule.

I am convinced that the bite wasn't in affect, but completely calculated and that she did it with premeditation.

In the end, once again, I am infinitely grateful to the doctors who saved my toe and prevented me from losing it in such a bizarre way.

What would people have thought if they had seen this on a reality TV show?

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